Callie Harris once again stood opposite the Director of NCIS, Leon Vance. The setting was different, at least. This time, it was in his office. She held her breath as she waited for the results of the last six weeks to be made known.

Leon kept her waiting. He quietly flipped through the personnel folder before him. Looking up into Callie's face, he closed the jacket.

"Well, Agent Harris, according to the reports given me over the last month and a half, you've been certified fit for duty. You've also managed to requalify with scores slightly better than your last outing."

Callie acknowledged the statement with a slight nod but remained quiet. The Director continued, "The Review Board has agreed that your actions, while unprofessional and improper, did not do irreparable damage to the case. They have agreed that time served and a formal reprimand in your personnel file will be sufficient."

Callie finally exhaled, saying "Thank you, Director."

"Don't thank me yet, Harris. Just because I'm returning you to active duty doesn't mean you're going back in the field. I decided someone with more experience in that area needed to make that decision."

Hitting a button on his desk, Vance and Harris turned as the door to the office opened, admitting another agent.

Since that night, six weeks ago in Interrogation, Callie had seen the agent only one other time. He had dropped by Tony's apartment expecting to find the Senior Field Agent. Instead, he found Callie. Their conversation had been clipped.

"Did you need something?" Callie asked cautiously.

"Things resolved between you and DiNozzo?" He deliberately avoided the question.

"It's getting there." Callie hesitated. "The psych eval's more difficult than I expected but it's what I needed to put things in perspective."

He nodded as she continued, "I, look, I screwed up, Jethro. I understand if…"

He interrupted, "Not now, Harris. If and when you return to NCIS, we'll resolve it. If not, we'll do like we did before. Go our separate ways. I don't have time to continually pick up the pieces of your life and put them back together."

Callie was stung. "Very well, sir." She finally replied, "I'll tell Tony you were here."

"Don't bother," he answered, turning towards the door, "I'll call his cell."

Vance smiled mischievously, "I believe you know Special Agent in Charge Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"

Callie and Jethro shared a look before she turned back to face the Director.

"Yes, sir." Was the quiet answer.

"I'm going to leave the final reinstatement to field duty up to his discretion."

Again, Callie nodded and answered affirmatively.

Gibbs walked up next to Callie, his chest touching her shoulder. Harris continued to look straight ahead: the Drill Instructor and the recruit squaring off.

He whispered, menacingly, "There's a desk downstairs with your name on it. Double time it and park your ass in that chair. And when I get down there, that's where I BETTER find you. Understood?"

Callie gave a quick nod, "Understood, sir."

From his desk, Vance smiled, "You're dismissed, Agent Harris."

Callie turned towards the door and then turned back. She knew Gibbs was scrutinizing her every move but she refused to look at him. She kept her eyes on the Director, "Thank you, sir. For everything."

Vance nodded and Callie hastily left the Director's office. Both men dropped their gruff exteriors upon the agent's exit. Leon looked at Gibbs, "Do I want to know what she's in for?"

Gibbs smiled, "Probably not." And they shared a laugh.

Downstairs in the bullpen, McGee had been watching the landing for Callie's exit. As soon as she rounded the corner, McGee grabbed her. During the last six weeks, McGee had his own battles to fight. In addition to having his own date with the psychiatrist, he, too, had to requalify for field duty. The surgery to his shoulder had healed slowly but Gibbs patient instruction had encouraged the younger man. Tim had been in the office for a week and was finally going back out into the field today. Neither he nor Callie had taken the time to connect over their shared trauma.

"You okay?" McGee asked.

Callie smiled, "Yeah. For right now. You?"

He nodded, "I'm back in the saddle today."

She hugged him, "That's great, McGee. I'm happy for you."

The pause was awkward as Tim replied, "Look, Callie, we haven't really had a chance to talk about everything."

Callie interrupted, "Do we need to, Tim? I mean, we know what went on. What we shared. We've both had to face those nightmares."

McGee nodded, "I just wanted to thank you. I know the beating and assault you took…" he couldn't finish.

Harris pinned him with a stare, "Thank me? McGee, you should hate me."

"Why?"

"I did the unthinkable, Tim. I left you with no backup; no support of any kind. When I was unconscious they still could have killed you." The fear in Callie's voice caught at McGee, "That's been one of the biggest hurdles for me to overcome."

Tim shook his head, "I felt guilty that you took the beating, Cal. That you had to put yourself in that position in an attempt to save me."

"But, why? You're my partner, no different than Tony or Jethro. And, I'm sorry if you ever had reason to think otherwise, Tim. I wouldn't hesitate to give my life for yours."

McGee was humbled. "Thank you, partner."

Callie pulled him back into another embrace as she whispered, "Any time, partner."

And that was how Tony found them when he rounded the bullpen. The last six weeks with Callie confined to his apartment had been an experience for both of them. The psychiatric evaluation had taken a toll on Callie, more than even she had ever expected. There were days, after talking with the shrink, that Callie would do nothing but sit in the darkened spare bathroom and cry. Try as he might, Tony couldn't get her to come out. He didn't think she would do anything stupid but he wasn't prepared to take that chance. Finally, one week into the therapy, he slipped home at lunch to remove the door handle and lock. She still hid in the bathroom but, at least now, DiNozzo could stick his head in to check on her. It made him feel better.

Their personal relationship had exploded. That night, after the scene in Interrogation, Tony had returned to his apartment to find Callie curled up in a tight ball in his bed. He slipped in behind her and pulled her close. She never hesitated. She turned into him and, finally, let the emotions of the last week release. Harris cried, cursed, hit at him but, most of all, sought Tony for the strength and refuge that she no longer had. In those six weeks, Tony and Callie knew their lives had changed forever. They would, from that point forward, be a couple.

"Half a day away from me and you're already hugging other men, Harris?" Tony smiled as the two jumped apart.

Callie and McGee shared another glance and then Tim returned to his desk. Callie still had her back toward the main entrance to the bullpen and didn't see the boss return. She felt it, though, as the sound slap came to the back of her head.

"Weren't you supposed to be in that seat?" Was the growl.

"Yes, sir," and Callie quickly obliged.

Before Gibbs could say anything else, DiNozzo's phone rang. Answering, he listened to the instruction on the other end of the line.

"Okay, thanks. We're on it." Hanging up, he looked up to the three expectant faces, "Got a call at Quantico. Dead Marine."

Gibbs nodded and tossed the keys to McGee. Callie reached for her bag but was forestalled by the voice that was now towering over her desk.

"Not you, Agent Harris." Gibbs ordered.

Tim walked past Callie's desk and stood, eyeing her over the room divider.

Gibbs continued, "You ride the pine for the next thirty days. And that's not calendar days. That's working days."

Callie grimaced. Tony had been standing at his desk, waiting for his turn.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs called.

With a malicious smile, Tony grabbed his pack and put it over his shoulder. He also turned and picked up a rather large stack of folders which he then proceeded to place in the middle of Harris' desk.

Looking up into that handsome face, Callie couldn't help but smile as she said, "Et tu, Antony?"

"As Senior Field Agent, you didn't think I would have some input in all of this?" He asked. But before he drew back, he reached out and squeezed the redhead's hand. Then, Tony joined Tim where he waited in the hall.

"Forty-five cold cases, Agent Harris. I want each one reviewed and a report typewritten for new leads. All 45 completed and on my desk before you leave work tomorrow. When we return, the van will need to be cleaned and restocked. Also, Doctor Mallard will have chores for you in Autopsy as will Abby in the lab. Hell," Gibbs instructed, "I may even have you cleaning toilets for Carl the Janitor. You thought being a probie in Europe with Jenny and me was rough? You have absolutely NO idea."

Callie swallowed convulsively as the dressing down continued, "At the end of those thirty days, I will reevaluate your performance and determine then if you're fit to be returned to field duty. It's a privilege, Agent Harris, one you would do well to remember. If I find your performance lacking, I'll kick you back to the Intelligence Desk so fast you won't know what hit you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

Gibbs looked up to Tim and Tony who were smiling like village idiots, "You two want to stay and help her?"

They didn't have to be told twice, "No, Boss." And headed to the elevator where they waited to be joined by Gibbs.

"Anything you want to say?" Gibbs the drill instructor glared at Callie.

"Just one thing, sir." Callie stated quietly. Looking up into the stern face, she smiled, "It's good to be back, L.J."

He returned the grin, "It's good to have you back, Cal. Now, get to work." And he slapped the back of her head one last time, for good measure, before grabbing his gear to join Tony and Tim.

From his vantage point on the landing, Director Vance had watched the scene unfold. Callie had spared a longing glance for the departing agents and then opened the first file and started her tasks. Thirty working days, his MCRT would be back and fully functioning. Leon Vance smiled as he returned to his office. Life was good.