Tim sighed as he surveyed the supplies spread out on the ground.
They each had a bed roll, which was a good thing. He didn't think they'd survive having to cuddle together for warmth after the sun went down.
They each had a spare pair of NCIS sweats. They'd debated a bit about why Gibbs had bothered with the change of clothes, and had finally decided that he was probably worried about Ducky's reaction if it rained, and they had no dry things. It would certainly explain why they were sealed in giant zip-lock bags.
They each had a canteen full of water, and there was a good supply of both water purification tablets and matches. A small aluminium pot would let them boil water, and they had a pair of ancient-looking enamel mugs. Dehydration wouldn't be a concern, he thought, grateful to be spared the full sucking-dew-off-of-leaves version of Marine Survival 101.
They also had a large plastic tarp, but no actual tent. The gathering storm clouds made the waterproofing the tarp would provide a welcome small luxury. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he suspected that Gibbs's fear of Ducky's reaction was also responsible for them not having to manage without any way to really keep the rain out. He had a feeling that he'd be spending a much more uncomfortable weekend, if he didn't have Tony's plague-scarred lungs along for company.
The only real problem was going to be food. The meagre supply of uninteresting non-perishables that they'd been left with would not keep them both fed for three days. Of course, they wouldn't actually starve in that time, but Tony had almost used the emergency phone to call Gibbs and ask if he really wanted them to go without meals for much of the weekend, or if he'd forgotten to leave them another bag with the real food in it. But then Tim had found the fishing line and hooks tucked inside one of the pockets of one of the backpacks, and they'd realised to their dismay that Gibbs intended them to have to supplement the menu through their own initiative... or be very hungry by the time they were rescued on Sunday.
X X X
Tony cursed as he hefted the last heavy rock into position at the edge of the tarp. Draped over a low, more-or-less-horizontal branch and weighted on two sides, it would provide a reasonable, if cramped, shelter.
He didn't like admitting that the probie was actually the one with all the outdoorsy experience, but he also knew that taking advantage of boy-scout-Tim's greater knowledge would make the weekend a little less unbearable than if he insisted on pulling rank and being in charge.
But, he thought sullenly, sucking on his pinched finger as he listened to Tim's instructions about the kind of evergreen branches he was supposed to help collect to provide a wind-break on the open ends of the shelter, that didn't mean he had to like it.