With a sigh he stirred up the remains of their meager fire, noting that they were nearly out of wood and that was after Tim had rationed it through the night. They only had a few substantial pieces left and a large pile of twigs and bark, which wouldn't last long. They would have to go for more fuel as soon as it got light out.
The smaller fire was reflected in the cooler temperature inside their shelter. He was wearing his coat again and had put on the hat Kara had given him. One of their slightly worn quilts was wrapped around his legs but even so, he wasn't actually warm. But at least he wasn't shivering.
He glanced at his watch. It was almost six o'clock. Dawn was still at least an hour away.
He looked back at Tim. He was sleeping soundly under his coat and the other quilt, his head pillowed on his arm. His friend looked innocent, almost childlike, while sleeping. Not that Tim didn't look innocent and child-like when awake.
He had never wanted any siblings when he was a kid. He hadn't wanted the competition. But since coming to NCIS, he had become a part of one very strange family.
He had Gibbs, who had been more of a father to him in the twelve years he had worked at NCIS than his real father had been in his forty years of life. On that same vein, he had the weird Uncle Ducky and his second cousin Palmer; there was no way the autopsy gremlin was in his direct family tree even if he did offer sound advice on tough cases.
Abby would be a cousin too or maybe a sister. Tim was definitely the younger brother of the group and Ziva. He had no idea what Ziva was. Maybe she was the step-sister that didn't have any blood relations to the rest of the family. That had to be it, because otherwise he had all kinds of hinky conversations and thoughts that might have bordered on incest.
He shook his head to get rid of those thoughts. He had no idea what his feelings for Ziva were and he didn't want to think of her as any more than a partner. Rule number twelve. He couldn't break rule number twelve.
He took a deep breath and thought back to this past Christmas.
He hadn't been looking forward to his father's Christmas visit, especially since his father had planned to stay with him. It was an element of chaos introduced into his sanctuary, but he was trying to improve his relationship with his father. And he had to admit, it had felt like old times… right down to his father sleeping with the cougar from next door. That had been worse than knowing there had been a triple homicide in his place.
He had been furious with his father. But he also regretted sending his father away in anger and he had been grateful that Abby had brought his dad back to NCIS for their screening of It's a Wonderful Life. It had given them both a lot to think about and afterwards, they had both apologized for their actions. He didn't doubt it would be a rocky road but they both had reason to want it to work out.
Returning his gaze to Tim he realized that his friend wasn't as innocent as he looked on the outside. Some of the stories Tim told about his childhood on base convinced him that Tim was far craftier than he had ever been. Tim had to be sneaky if he wanted to get away with the things he did and apparently, he had succeeded.
And besides that, Tim had dated Abby and slept in her coffin. That took some serious guts. Or some serious feminine bribery from a certain wily Goth. He suspected that it was a little of both.
He pulled the quilt up to his chin and around his upper body. Their cave was rapidly cooling without the benefit of a larger fire.
With another sigh, he stood up and glanced out of one of their ventilation holes. Some of the blackness was lifting. The landscape was brightening to an ugly shade of gray filled with swirling snow.
He glanced down at Tim. McGee had stayed awake most of the night even though he had told Tim to wake him halfway through. If Tim hadn't cracked his head off the ceiling after stoking their fire, he would have bet good money that McGee would have stayed up the whole night.
He looked at his partner and wondered if this was what it was like to have a brother. Sure, they fought a lot but that was mostly because he instigated the fights. But Tim always had his back when he needed it and he would always have Tim's. And besides, Tim was fighting back now. Sometimes, Tim even gave as good as he got.
He smiled at that. That made things more interesting.
He would rather let McGee sleep while he slipped outside for more wood. He was about to do so when he heard several snowmobiles.
"Tim," he hissed, waking Tim with a rough shake.
"Wah?" Tim muttered as he sat up, his hair sticking up at odd angles.
"Someone's coming," he hissed.
"Rescuers?" Tim asked hopefully.
"No idea," he said. He held a finger up to his lips. Tim nodded in agreement.
"I thought I saw smoke here," said a voice. He recognized it.
He looked out the ventilation hole and through the heavy snow, he saw three men downslope. One was definitely Brian Dunning's father. He recognized his Carhartt hunting jacket with the orange blazes on the shoulders. By his beard, the other was Rick Dunning. He didn't recognize the third, but he had a really good guess.
"Pa Dunning," he muttered. Alarmed, Tim looked at their fire. Even though they had collected dead wood, it was soaked from the snow and wasn't properly seasoned. Their fire was putting up a lot of smoke.
Tim lurched to his feet and looked out the second ventilation hole. He looked again. The Dunnings were closer.
"Hold up a blanket to the crack," Tim said as he leaned down to grab the quilt. "If they see the smoke we're in trouble. No wait, use your coat. It's black."
He pulled off his coat and together they held it pressed against the opening. After a moment, their small cave began to fill with acrid smoke and they were forced to hold their breath.
"I don't see any smoke," muttered another voice.
"It's snowing so damn hard I don't see much of anything," said a third.
Even without seeing him, he recognized that third voice belonged to Rick Dunning, the youngest of the three brothers. He had been at Jack Dunning's house when they stopped to interview him about his son. They had interviewed Rick about his nephew but he didn't have much to say. He must have helped his older brother jump them as they left.
"And I don't smell no smoke either," said the second voice.
"Why are we out here in this blizzard anyway?" Rick asked. "Those Federal Agents probably didn't make it this far. They probably didn't even survive the night. They're city folk. They don't know how to survive off the land in a blizzard."
"Don't underestimate the Feds," Jack said. "They found my cabin and we don't know that they don't know how to survive off the land. Who knows what goes into their training? Just 'cause they're from the city doesn't mean they're stupid."
He looked at Tim and rolled his eyes. Tim looked at him and shook his head.
"And they've got supplies now, or did you forget that?" Jack asked.
"I didn't forget," Rick retorted. "I was the one that found her crying and the cabin all messed up."
"You believe her?" Jack asked. "That they forced their way in and took everything?"
"Yeah," Rick replied. "I asked her a few times about what happened, and she kept her story straight."
"Did she know where they were going?" the second voice asked as they got closer to their cave. That voice must belong to the middle brother, William.
"She said they asked how to get back to town," Rick said. "And she told them to go the wrong way." He glanced at Tim who shook his head. They had no way to know if Kara had lied to them or not. "They'll die of exposure before they realize they're wrong."
"They were supposed to die of exposure near where you dumped their car," Will muttered. "What if they live? They're going to come after us. They're armed now. We'd have to kill them outright." Will sounded nervous.
"Don't get cold feet now, Will," Jack said. "We're in too deep for that."
"I dunno," Will said hesitantly. "This is getting out of hand. Now you want to kill two Feds? It's bad enough we had to off your boy."
Given how loud their voices were, the men had to be standing just outside of their cave.
"He wasn't mine!" Jack muttered darkly. "You know that! And you know that he was going to spill the beans about the drugs. He was going to tell NCIS where our lab was."
"Was?"
"Jack and I spent most of yesterday tearing down the lab and hiding the evidence," Rick said. "It'll take weeks to get the operation up and running again."
"Better than if it's found and we're arrested," Jack retorted. "Which is why Brian had to be stopped. If it's anyone's fault, Will, it's yours for letting Brian see you."
"He was supposed to be in Afghanistan! Oh, this is bad," William said nervously. "When those two Feds don't show up, more of 'em are going to come nosing around. It'll only be a matter of time 'til they put the pieces together and find our lab."
"Their Fed friends have already showed up," Rick said. "I saw them while I was keeping watch on the town. I still don't know how he managed to drive here in that storm last night."
"Gibbs," he mouthed. Tim nodded. It was reassuring that Gibbs was in town and searching for them even if they were stuck in this cave until the storm blew itself out. At least they had someone on their side and like William said, he knew Gibbs would put the pieces together.
He took a shallow breath and had to cough into the crook of his arm. The smoke seared his lungs.
Alarmed, Tim looked at him then the cave opening. Tim motioned for him to hold the coat and once he had it in hand, Tim found and drew his Sig. He pointed to his weapon and took it from Tim when his partner rejoined him. He held the coat with his left hand and his weapon in his right with Tim mirroring him.
"They haven't come around asking questions," Jack said. To their relief, it didn't seem like they had heard him cough. "They're too busy looking for their friends."
"Not without a snowmobile, they can't," Rick said. "And Berman isn't going to organize search parties until this storm lets up."
"I don't blame him," William replied. "This storm is enough to get anyone turned around and lost."
"Come on," Jack said. "They probably wanted to put as much distance between them and the cabin. If they were smart they took the trail over the mountain back to town. It's just up ahead. Maybe we'll find them while they're walking back towards town."
"Well I know they didn't get back to town last night," Rick replied. "I spent half the night watching out for them. Nearly froze my ass off."
"They probably camped for the night, you idiot," Jack retorted. "If they did, they could be halfway to town by now. Double back and get Kara, Rick. We'll meet you at your place in town after we've searched for a while longer."
"What about the lab?" Rick asked. "We didn't finish."
"Too much of a risk to go back now," Jack said. "Not with this snow. It's hard enough to get to in good weather. We'll have to finish tearing down after this storm lets up."
"You don't think Berman is going to wonder what we were doing out here in this storm?" William asked.
"He knows my cabin is out this way and he knows Kara spends a lot of time out there. If he asks, we'll tell him we came back to town at first light rather than spend the storm in the cabin," Jack replied as they struggled to breath in the smoky cave. "We'll tell him that we're meeting at your place in town, Rick, just in case the power cuts out at my place like it did the last time we had a bad storm. And if those Feds didn't die and make it back into town, we can take care of them then. All of them."
His eyes were watering and he was trying not to breathe the smoky air, but it was proving next to impossible. Every time he inhaled he had to fight the urge to cough.
So, when the snowmobiles roared into life, he was incredibly grateful. He moved to pull down his coat but Tim shook his head. Instead, Tim holstered his Sig and grabbed the coat from him. Tim motioned for him to kneel.
He knelt to the ground and found the air was marginally clearer. Even so, it was still difficult to breathe. Finally, Tim handed him his coat and burst from the cave.
He quickly followed Tim, alternately coughing and sucking in grateful, clean breaths for several minutes despite the bitter cold air. Even as he coughed, he turned around and noticed that their 'door' had been covered with snow, hiding their cave from sight. But now it was dislodged and smoke was pouring out as if it housed a sleeping dragon.
Tim recovered first and began to wave his coat through the smoke to dissipate it. But his lungs still burned so he remained bent at the waist alternately coughing and taking deep steady breaths. He watched as Tim pulled on his coat and looked at him.
"You ok?" Tim asked as he helped him to stand upright.
"I feel like a piece of beef jerky," he replied as the world spun slightly as he fully stood upright. "But I'm fine." Suddenly the wind picked up and the snow started to come down heavily again. He quickly pulled on his coat, frowning because it now smelled heavily of smoke. "I don't think those guys will be back again."
"Not likely," Tim said as he shivered.
He looked down. There were footprints in the snow alarmingly close to their shelter. Tim followed his gaze. He looked down along the slope and saw the tell-tale tracks from snowmobiles. Two sets continued down the valley while the third returned to the cabin.
"Maybe we can give it some time and then go back to the cabin to ride out the storm," Tim suggested.
"The thought is extremely tempting, Tim," he said as he turned and looked up along the valley. But he shook his head. "We can't risk them coming back in the middle of this storm. Obviously, the weather isn't deterring them from going out. What's to stop them from returning to the cabin?"
"I was hoping you weren't thinking that too," Tim replied. "Which means we need to get more wood."
He nodded. After donning his hat and gloves, they hurried off into the swirling snow to collect more wood. After two trips, they could barely see more than a few yards in front of them.
"I think I've had enough snow for a lifetime," he said as they worked to chop the wood into smaller pieces and then split the logs.
"Same here," Tim replied as he paused long enough to wipe his forehead.
Suddenly they heard a snowmobile. Dropping down, they listened as the droning engine grew closer. He drew his Sig and Tim followed suit but perhaps because of the snow they never saw the vehicle as it passed their position.
"That must have been Richard with Kara," he said. Tim nodded. "At least that'll leave us in peace for a while."
By the time they finished collecting enough wood and reset their door, their fire had burned down to embers.
"Perfect," Tim muttered as they entered their dark cave just as the wind picked up again. The temperature inside the cave had to have been half of what it had been before. Tim cranked the flashlight and turned it on, so he could see well enough to restart the fire.
"I left strict instructions with the maid to keep the fire going," he said as he stacked the wood against the side of the cave. "You just can't find good help these days."
Tim ignored him as he gathered up the pile of bark and small twigs left over from the night before.
"I think I've had my fill of camping for the next ten years," he said as he blew air on his hands to warm them while Tim carefully added their last pieces of dry wood to the embers.
Tim chuckled dryly as he paused and flexed his fingers. "Camping is usually much more fun than this, Tony," Tim replied as he placed the bits of bark under the fresh logs and into the coals.
"Yeah well, I don't really care to find out for myself. Me and the great outdoors don't get along," he replied. "Although, at least I don't get poison ivy every time I go into the woods.
Tim turned and frowned at him. "Look, I did most of my scouting in California. We had poison oak out there, not poison ivy. I can recognize poison oak. Poison ivy is a different story and I'm allergic to it," he said defensively.
"Easy McTouchy," he said with a smile. "I doubt you'll get it now."
"Probably not," Tim conceded as he returned to tending the fire. He watched his partner work but it didn't seem like the bark and twigs were going to catch. For a moment, he worried that they wouldn't get it lit again. But then Tim blew onto the coals and suddenly a flame appeared.
Encouraged, Tim carefully added smaller twigs until they had a small fire going. After nearly thirty minutes, their fire was once again crackling merrily, and they were able to dry off.
Sitting back, they shared a breakfast of peanut butter and crackers.
"You heard, that right?" he asked. Tim shook his head, not following him. "Jack and Rick Dunning were dismantling a meth lab. They must have made the meth we found in Corporal Dunning's apartment." Tim nodded. "When we interviewed him, I didn't take Jack to be the Walter White type."
"Me neither," Tim agreed. "But it doesn't take much to make meth, especially low-quality stuff. Abby hadn't finished her analysis of the drugs before we left."
"Even if it is higher quality stuff, that doesn't mean Jack didn't have help with the manufacturing," he said. Tim nodded in concession as he ate. "So, when we get out of here, I vote we don't take the pass over the mountain to town," he said.
"Vote?" Tim asked as he wiggled his toes. "I thought that as senior field agent, you would make the decision."
"You want to take the pass and walk right into the Hatfield's hands, McCoy, be my guest," he replied. He winced as the pins and needles seemed to crawl up his foot into his leg.
"No," Tim replied. "But now I'm wondering if Kara was lying to us."
"There's that too," he said. "Or she could have lied to her Uncle. He just said she told us the wrong way, we don't know what she told him." Tim looked thoughtful as he chewed. "I don't think she was lying to us though."
"I don't think so either," Tim replied.
"Doesn't mean I want to chance it," he said. Tim looked at him questioningly. "Even if she gave us good directions, how much you want to bet that one or more of the Dunnings will be watching that trail back to town?"
"I won't take that bet," Tim replied.
"I had a feeling," he said.
Tim scratched the stubble on his cheek. "I guess that means we follow the stream valley."
"Back to Plan A," he agreed. When Tim looked confused, he said, "When we first woke up, you said we should follow the valley, we won't walk in circles and we might cross a road."
"Oh, right," Tim said. "Are you up for a fifteen-mile hike?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked defensively.
"You should have heard yourself out there, DiWheezy."
"DiWheezy?" he asked incredulously. "We'll give you the plague and see what condition your lungs are in afterwards especially when we're breathing in smoke," he said surprised at the ribbing he was getting from Tim. "Besides," he said. "I'm not so sure that you could make the fifteen-mile hike."
"I've been running for months," Tim retorted. He looked at Tim skeptically. "After we were on that protection detail for Adriana Gorgova, I thought I'd challenge myself to train for a marathon," Tim said bashfully.
He looked at Tim sympathetically. Ziva had told him that Tim had asked if she thought that Adriana had been attracted to him or if she thought it had been an act. And this was on the heels of the incident with the assassin who had seduced him to get information only a year before. It was no wonder his partner was gun-shy with women.
Instead of teasing his partner, he said, "I didn't take you for a runner."
"I wasn't," Tim replied. "I started with Jethro." He looked at Tim, puzzled. McGee had been running with their boss? Gibbs ran? "The dog I adopted, Tony. Our morning walks somehow turned into morning runs. I still miss those."
He nodded in understanding.
Jethro had been older when Tim had adopted him and had gotten sick with cancer a few years ago. Tim had done his best to get him treatment, but it hadn't worked. Abby had been devastated when the dog had died. She had been in mourning for a full week and had even hosted a wake for the dog. As weird as that had been, it had been a pretty epic party even by Abby's standards. She had hired an authentic New Orleans jazz quintet and had it catered by a creole restaurant.
"I still can't believe Abby conned you into taking at dog that attacked you," he said. "Did she use her feminine guile? Bribe you with a nap in the coffin?"
"What?" asked Tim looking at him, shock written across his features.
"Oh, come on, McGee!" he said happy for the distraction. "I know about you and the mistress of the lab."
"I don't know what you think you think you know, Tony. But you don't know anything," Tim retorted.
He paused to work out what Tim said. "I know that you and Abby are unusually close and don't give me that line 'we're just friends.' There's something between you two."
Tim rolled his eyes. "At one time there was," he replied softly. "But not for a long time Tony. We are just friends, no matter what your overactive imagination might think. I trust Abby. And I trusted her when she said Jethro was a good dog. That's why I gave him a second chance and I didn't regret it."
"Deny it all you want, McGee," he said. "You two are in love with one another except that you won't admit it to anyone, especially yourselves."
"No," Tim said. "We're not in love, Tony. Haven't been for a long time. We still care for each other." He looked at Tim skeptically. "There's a difference."
"I believe you," he replied. "I also believe you aren't happy about it." He paused as he gauged Tim's reaction. Tim shrugged. "Abby's the one with the hang up."
"Does that surprise you?" Tim asked. "She's just as bad with commitment as you are."
"I'd take offense to that except that I can't," he replied. "I'm sorry, man, that sucks."
Tim shrugged again, returning his gaze to the fire.
"Want me to give her a kick in her black pants?" Tony asked.
Tim chuckled and shook his head. "Thanks, but you know it wouldn't do any good. If anything develops between us again, she needs to come to that conclusion on her own. She's stubborn like that. Until that happens I'm just fine with how things are now. I value her friendship more than a relationship."
"Yeah," he said. He knew how that went. "Don't worry, Tim," he said. "You'll find someone and make some insanely smart little McGeelets. Let's just hope they get their looks from their mother."
Tim frowned and didn't reply. He had a feeling his partner was less optimistic about his chances than he was annoyed by jab about his looks. Tim had had some decidedly bad luck when it came to women.
"Have faith Tim," he said as smacked Tim's arm with friendly encouragement. "You're a catch. You'll find her, probably when you least expect it."
Tim smiled wanly at him. "I hope so," he replied. "What about you?"
He shrugged. "I dunno, Tim. I'm not really the settling down type," he replied. "I'm terrible with kids and I'm not exactly good at the permanent relationship thing."
Tim opened his mouth but then shut it again and he had a feeling that Tim was going to bring up Jeanne. Thankfully his partner didn't. Even after all this time, how things had ended with Jeanne still hurt. If the circumstances had been different, he could have pictured himself marrying Jeanne and perhaps having a family. But given that he had lied to her, he had destroyed those dreams even before they had a chance.
"What about Ziva?" Tim asked suddenly drawing him from his thoughts.
"What about her?" he asked defensively.
"You care a lot about her," Tim said clearly probing.
"And so do you," he retorted trying to deflect Tim.
Tim nodded. "I do."
"She's my partner Tim," he said as he grabbed his quilt. "Rule twelve." Tim frowned. "Besides I'm not about to start dating a crazy assassin who's ready to kill me at the drop of a hat." Tim didn't look convinced. "I'm going to sleep now."
"Trying to avoid the conversation?" Tim asked astutely.
"No, mostly I'm trying to get some sleep. But I am trying to avoid getting myself killed." Tim looked confused. "So, Tony, how did you two pass the time in your cave?" he said in a passable Gibbs voice. "Oh, it was simple Boss. Avoided some mountain men. Chopped some wood." Tim started to smile. "Talked about Ziva,"
"I wouldn't worry," Tim said. "Gibbs would save you."
"We need saving now, McGee. But rescuers aren't coming out in this storm," he said as he looked at their makeshift door as a few flakes of snow made their way in through the ventilation holes. "Not even Gibbs."