A/N: Final chapter! I hope you enjoyed this story and I thank my faithful reviewers for their boundless patience!

Chapter 18

Tim had been back at his desk for two weeks and was now due for a medical debriefing which was necessary to determine his readiness for field duty.

Before returning, albeit on desk duty, he'd already been seeing a psychiatrist. Since a critical report had been added to his personnel file, the need had arisen to have him undergo a psychological evaluation. Not that he'd been in a shootout or a hostage situation, but the circumstances had still been such that he had no other option but comply with this examination he had come to dread. His fears, however, proved unfounded. Of course he was nervous and in a sweat over this, what he considered an ordeal. However, the psychiatrist attached to the agency had found nothing amiss with his behavior. Accordingly, the specialist had ascribed Tim's unease to this appointment.

He'd come off very well with only two psycho therapeutic sessions where he'd learnt that the psychological impact on himself and his team had been negligible. Ergo, he was soon found mentally sound to carry out his high-stress job.

Still, looking back on the case, it seemed almost impossible to Tim that he had come so close to dying. Of course he was well aware that his job held risks and he was willing to take them.

Still, his mind still took him to the near fatal experience when he least expected it.

And he still woke up in the dead of the night, gasping for air and battling with the sheets on his bed. The recurring nightmares were invariably about drowning. Always that. It was all too real: the water closing above his head, and him sinking to the deep with the light becoming dimmer. No longer able to hold in his breath, he drew...water...and woke up, sweating all over his body. All thought of returning to sleep abandoned, he would then disentangle himself from the bed clothes and walk into the main room where he would sit in the moonlight, shivering, until it was time to get ready for work.

The doctor had reassured him the frequency of the nightmares would lessen, given time. They were a signal his brain was trying to cope with the traumatic experience.

Yes, all things considered, he was doing better than expected.

So here he sat, waiting for his appointment with the doctor. He felt a little more comforted by the knowledge that the others had been subjected to the mandatory periodic health examination, too. They had each and everyone of them objected to it and had concocted the craziest reasons to shirk the assessment. Vance's threat to put their refusals in their personnel file had quickly quelled their plans. Defeated, they had all gone. Except for McGee, since he had still been on sick leave.

Nobody ever looked forward to a medical and neither did Tim. Least of all, now. The doctor at Bethesda had assured him he had healed enough to do his job, but it had to be certified by the physician at law enforcement.

So, when a nurse called his name, Agent McGee had taken a deep breath before stepping into the doctors office.

- -.-. -. . .

Tony barely looked up when the elevator announced its arrival at their floor with a familiar ding.

But then, his head snapped up again seeing who was stepping out of it to stride so confidently through their territory and on to his own desk.

Tony didn't need to be a profiler to recognize the bounce in the step, the erect composure, the smile and the twinkling of the emerald eyes, as sure signs that his friend would have some good news to tell them.

"Probie!"

Tim straightened himself from his stooped position after having stowed his backpack in the corner and powering up his computers.

"Yes, Tony?" He queried, trying to plaster a look of complete indifference on his face.

Ziva, had also stopped from whatever she was doing and slowly got up from her chair to come closer.

"Sooo?" The Senior Agent prompted. "How did it go? Tell us!"

Tim merely smiled and calmly turned his attention back to what he was doing.

A crumpled paper ball sailed his way and hit him in the head. It bounced on his desk and his eyes followed its trail until it rolled off...to land into the bin. He shook his head and muttered, "one chance in a million to get that effect... Wouldn't work if you aimed..."

He sighed and, eyes closed, leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. Waiting.

Tony was about to toss another ball when his friend's voice lazily drifted over.

"Peachy. I got a clean bill of health for field duty. However..."

Ziva now stood in front of his desk with a concerned look on her face. Her gaze then met to Tony's, observing a shade spreading across his as well.

The Senior Agent leaned forward to sit a little straighter in his chair, ready to ask the next, obvious, question.

As Tim still had his eyes closed, he hadn't noticed any of the silent and worried messages passing among his coworkers. His own face, though, had assumed a sad look.

"There's one condition. The doctor said I..." He inserted a dramatic pauze.

"What?" Tony nearly yelled out, worried and yet a little irritated at Tim for taking his time. What was wrong with the younger man. "What did he say, McGee?"

"She, Tony. It was a she. And you'd have found her hot, too." He smirked and continued. "She said..."

Ziva had crept closer and was now leaning over the corner of his desk, one hand planted on it for support.

"Tim." She softly urged, slightly backing when his eyes popped open and he nearly fell off his chair with shock at finding her face mere inches from his.

"Ziva! God!" He cried out, bringing his hand to his heart.

Once more, she leaned into his personal space.

"What – did – the doctor – tell you!"

Now Tony had also joined Ziva and they both stared Tim down.

He blushed and stuttered. "She...well... Nothing, really. I'm okayed for the field. Is all."

"That's it? So what about this...condition?"

"Err..a joke." He gave that small apologetic laugh of his, still blushing furiously. "I was going to say... Only if I rode shotgun... And no more playing the pack mule carrying all the gear..." His voice petered out and he licked his dry lips. What had he been thinking. They had truly been worried about him.

*smack*

"What were you thinking, McGee?" Gibbs threw at him from over the partition wall as he walked on and rounded the corner on his way to his desk.

"Sorry, guys. Shouldn't have done this." Tim shamefacedly admitted. "Hey, I just couldn't resist it."

As punishment, both Ziva and Tony head slapped him and returned to their places. All smiles, but they weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of seeing.

Gibbs took his keys, badge and gun from his desk, and something else.

"Grab your gear. We've got a case."

They all scrambled to get ready and, stepping to the elevator, Gibbs tossed something towards Tim who just managed to catch it one handed. Uncomprehending, looked up at the Team Leader.

"?"

"You ride in the back, McGee. Don't wanna have to clean up your puke, so use the barf bag."

Tony, stepping into the elevator behind Tim, gave him a nudge. "Shotgun."

"Wha...?"

"You ride shotgun. I sit in the back next to Ziva." Tony chuckled. "You can have her all you want after work. Here, Probette's mine, Probie."

Ziva gave him a look and then, with the sweetest smile at Tim, she said: "You ride in the front, McGee. That's your punishment for tormenting us by lying." Ziva winked and grabbing his hand, she gave it a little squeeze.

Breathing out a soft sigh of relief, Tim stared straight ahead, unaware of the three pairs of smiling eyes fixed on his back.

Great to be back.

- -.-. -. . .

"McGee! He's on the move! Coming your way!"

"Capicce, Tony." Tim whispered in his mouthpiece, slowly easing his Sig from his side holster.

His back against the wall, he breathlessly waited till the suspect would round the corner, gun cocked and ready.

He could hear the man's footsteps approach rapidly, yet hesitantly as if wary for a trap.

From the backyard right in front of Tim, a dog barked excitedly and a cat screeched in response before bolting out and into the alley, followed by a small mongrel. A door flew open and a child calling what he supposed to be both animals' names came running out, in pursuit of the quarrelling pets.

Tim, briefly closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the wall, inwardly cursed. "Wonderful!"

He carefully craned his neck to peek around the corner and check for the man, but the alley was empty. His charge had taken a side alley.

There wasn't a moment to lose and he broke into a run, yelling in his mike, his voice a little hoarse and trembly with the thrill, as well as from running: "Tony! He took another route! He's run for the road! I'm after him!"

"Take care, McGee! We're right behind you!"

Trusting that they'd have his back, he found a renewed strength which made him run faster.

There! A foot, as the man was rounding another corner.

As he was running, he didn't even have the time to think about his leg; if the muscle would hold. He'd had many physio sessions and he had slowly regained his confidence but running as he was now? That was something altogether different.

The circuitous route took him to a main street where a school was located. The youngsters staring in one particular direction and the excited chatter amongst themselves, supplied him with the only clues where to go next, which was right across the school grounds.

He ran on, zig-zagging between small groups of school kids and across a football field where a match was being played until it was interrupted by the fleeing suspect...and the agent in his wake.

As he scaled over a fence, Tim cursed the man for his good condition. But then, he spotted the man and praised the Lord for gaining ground on the suspect. Having gotten his second wind, he carried on loping after the man with renewed vigor, booking it through front gardens, back-yards, alleyways,...

He followed his quarry along the side of a house and rounding the corner into the back-yard.

"Umpff!" Tim fought his way through some unexpected clotheslines when he felt a fist ram into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

He went down on his knees and, trying to catch his breath, he vaguely saw the man take off again.

A coughing fit delayed his pursuit but then he was on the move again, offering a breathless 'thank you' to a Chihuahua barking the direction the man had taken.

This time, he found himself in another garden with the sprinklers on. Cool...

He ran his hand across his face, running on, never breaking his stride.

All the time, he'd maintained contact with his team on the phone, giving directions, his location, his progress...or lack thereof...

Then, without warning, the chase was over.

Hearing a loud splash, he battled through some shrubs and undergrowth, stopping short in front of a swimming pool.

He edged closer, breathing hard.

This was the terminus for his quarry who, spluttering and gasping, tried to clamber out of the pool only to find himself staring into the muzzle of a gun, and, right behind it, the grim face of the NCIS agent who'd been on his heels.

Staying alert, Tim put away his Sig and, grunting with effort, grabbed the suspect at the collar to haul him out of the pool and dump him, face down, on the grass.

Neither man had any fight left in them.

As the other made to roll on his back, Tim, arrested the movement with his foot. "Stay on your stomach and place your hands behind your back!" He instructed.

Keeping a wary eye on the other, Tim made short work of cuffing and searching his catch. Finding a knife, he tossed it out of reach.

Staggering back a few yards, Tim remained in a stooped position as he tried to catch his breath.

He was amazed he hadn't felt any twitches of pain in his leg at all. Not even now after such a lengthy chase. No, his limbs were merely trembling with the intensity of the run. Nothing more.

He was well aware of this feat which wouldn' have been possible had his injured leg not completely healed – oh boy! - didn't that feel good? He was a little out of breath, but that was to be expected under the circumstances. After all, he had run a race...and won!

Meanwhile, his team had caught up with him. He straightened his back and looked around at the semi-circle of his colleagues, grinning sheepishly.

Tony offered him a wink and went straight for the prone suspect.

Ziva came closer and their fingers brushed in passing, brown and green eyes locking for a second.

Next, Gibbs, ignoring the wordless communication, halted in front of Tim, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "You good, Tim?"

Tim, swallowed and nodded vigorously, giving the thumbs up.

"Never felt better, Boss!"

"Like it was meant to be. Welcome back."

They both turned and went about their business again, bringing the man into custody.

Now, he was truly back.

~ The End ~

I'd be pleased to read whatever thoughts you have on this story: good or bad, thrilling or boring to death. Trust me, I'm in no position to cause you any harm. Again, I apologize for any errors as English is my third language. I can only say I did my best.