First of all, my extremely deep apologies for vanishing into thin air! I have been having the weirdest computer problems, one of which is the will let me log on, but I can't do anything with my account once I'm on (like post updates). ARGH. And getting to a computer where I can is a pain in the butt. So I am really really sorry about how long this has taken! I'm trying to haul my computer in in the next month or so for service, which will hopefully fix the problem.

Also, I just wanted to say that all of your reviews mean so much to me. I don't have the time to respond to all of them individually, but please know that I read them and appreciate them, and that when I'm having a crappy day at work I go through them in my email and they cheer me up to no end. Thank you all for taking the time to read my work and respond – it really makes my day!

And finally, the last chapter of Here and Now…probably a bit anticlimactic after all this time, but I didn't want to leave it unfinished! Hopefully more to come on Rule 5 soon.

For the second time in less than twenty four hours, McGee woke up feeling like crap.

At least it was manageable crap. Sometime around four he'd gotten up and taken another one of those stupid painkillers and that had knocked him out for the rest of the night. Now he felt that annoying still-slightly-drugged cloud that dulled the pain but convinced him that he could make do with ibuprofen from here on out. The worst of it was past anyway; he could handle some aches and pains if it meant he could think clearly. No matter how much Abby used her big green pleading eyes on him.

Speaking of Abby…he stretched his arm out and realized that she wasn't in bed beside him. It was after nine, he noted as he checked the clock, so it made sense for her to be up, but he couldn't hear anything that placed her anywhere in the apartment. Had she gone home? That thought made him feel worse than the drugs, for some reason. He was already half convinced he'd imagined her in his arms last night. The whole thing felt like some sort of dream.

Then he heard the front door opening and felt a huge rush of relief. Maybe not a dream, then, and at least she was here now. "Abby?" he called.

"Just a second," she answered, and from a jingle and the sound of nails on the floor, he guessed that she was dealing with Jethro's leash. "And don't get up!" she added.

He mostly obeyed her – he didn't get out of bed, but he did push himself to a seated position. It made him feel slightly less like an invalid. It also made Abby frown when she entered the bedroom, but she'd evidently decided to pick her battles. "I called in and told Gibbs you were doing fine, and we'd both be out today, and I took Jethro for a walk," she said as she leaned against the doorjamb. "Gibbs says you're supposed to rest, and he doesn't need your report until Monday at the earliest, and, I quote, 'that's an order.' Ziva says to feel better and Tony said something which I couldn't hear and she refused to repeat to me. And Ducky is going to stop by this evening and check on you, which will hopefully save you a trip to the doctor's office later, though they may still want you to be looked at by someone who deals with the living on a more regular basis." She paused for a breath. "And now I'm going to make you breakfast. While you stay in bed and rest. Which is also an order, this time from me, though that shouldn't make you follow it any less."

Abby delivered this flood of information at what he thought of as one-Caf-Pow speed – in other words, normal for most people, but in her case a definite concession to the fact that his brain wasn't back up to full processing power yet – and then gave him a smile and disappeared, presumably to his kitchen.

He didn't want her making concessions for him. He didn't want her feeling sorry for him. He couldn't help being glad that she was here, because without her, he'd be likely to brood on things like various aches and pains, and how the hell he was supposed to type with a broken finger, and whether there was anything he could have done to avoid getting caught in the first place. He'd fall asleep and dream about being back there, tied to that chair, the moment he felt his finger snap, or he'd dream that he hadn't been strong enough, that he'd spilled NCIS' plans and intel, and when he woke up there would be nobody to tell him it was only a dream, that he'd done his job and everything was okay and that it was all over.

It would all pass eventually, whether she was there or not, but it was easier with her there.

So he was torn, because he wanted her to stay, but he wanted…he wanted to know why she stayed. Last night hadn't been a dream, had it? She'd kissed him. He'd held her, and kissed her, and she'd told him that she was there because she loved him. But love meant a lot of different things to Abby. Not always the same thing it meant to him.

Why was she here? What was different? To believe that she loved him and then find out she'd meant something else would break his heart. Even to be this close to that was almost too much, after the past day.

McGee sighed. Currently, Abby's laser focus was on getting him to eat breakfast. Getting her to discuss anything else until that goal had been accomplished would be nearly impossible, especially since he wasn't exactly functioning at full capacity.

He got up and made it halfway across the room before Abby yelled from the kitchen, "I told you to stay in bed!"

"Am I allowed to go to the bathroom?" he called back, not bothering to hide his irritation.

(Which she probably didn't deserve, but he was still tired and in pain and confused and could only think straight for about a minute at a time, and while he liked to believe he was a good person, he was far from perfect.)

A short pause. Finally – "Fine," she said grudgingly. "But then lie back down."

Which he didn't do. After he came out of the bathroom, he headed for the bedroom door, stopping a couple of steps outside. Far enough out that he could talk without raising his voice, but far enough away from Nurse Ratched to be safe. "What are you making?" he asked, his voice wary.

Abby shot him an exasperated look over her shoulder while stirring something in a pot. "Will you just stay in bed? Please? I've promised about ten people, including Gibbs and a couple of medical professionals, that I will make you rest, so don't make a liar out of me." She turned back to the stove. "And it's oatmeal. It'll be ready in a few minutes."

McGee made a face. "I don't like oatmeal."

She was facing away from him, but he could picture her rolling her eyes. "What are you, five? It's good for you, and you'll eat it. Now go back to bed."

He debated the merits of arguing with her, and determined that it was unlikely he'd win, and also, that his head did hurt more when he was standing. Not that he would admit it to her. So he compromised by propping his pillows against the wall so that he was could sit up comfortably. Jethro came padding in a moment later and rested his head on the bed, big brown eyes staring up at his person with a slightly worried expression. McGee smiled and snapped his fingers. "C'mon, buddy," he said. "If I have to stay in bed, you might as well hang out here with me." The big German Shepherd jumped up on the bed and curled up with his back against McGee's leg. McGee was scratching him lightly behind the ears when Abby walked in carrying his breakfast. "Careful," he told her. "Jethro might decide that's his."

"He wouldn't," Abby told him confidently. She looked down at where Jethro was staring fixedly at the plate and bowl in her hands. "No," she said clearly. "Not. Yours."

With a sigh, the dog obediently lay his head back down on his paws. McGee looked down at him and blinked. "How do you do that? If I have so much as a piece of cheese in my hand, he won't leave me alone."

Abby grinned. "Maybe he's still mad at you for shooting him." She handed him the bowl of oatmeal and crawled onto the bed, sitting cross-legged, her knees touching his. "Eat," she ordered.

Resistance was clearly futile. He took a bite. "'s good," he admitted. She'd put milk and brown sugar on it. "I didn't know I had oatmeal."

"You didn't. I want grocery shopping when I filled your prescriptions yesterday."

Of course she had. "What about you? Here, eat some of this. You made me enough for three people."

They passed the bowl back and forth, sharing the oatmeal. Then they started on the cinnamon toast she'd made, alternating bites until all that was left were a few crumbs on the plate and some cinnamon sugar on their shirts. And then…then he just looked at her.

He was tired – still – he ached everywhere, and he was just vulnerable enough to let the question slip out. "Why are you here, Abby?"

She frowned slightly, confused. "I told you, last night. Because I love you," she said. "Weren't you paying attention?"

He wanted to believe her. He really did. "Yeah, but…why now? What's different?" Not because you think I need you. Please, not that.

Her fingers stretched out, brushed his. "I was so mad at you, McGee."

"Mad?" McGee stared at her blankly. "Abby, I didn't get caught on purpose – "

She interrupted him. "Anyone else, I would have felt sorry for them. But you…I was just so mad at you for almost leaving me." She started to smile. "You really don't get it, do you, McGee?"

Maybe he was starting to. But thinking that you understood Abby could be dangerous. "Help me a little."

"If I have to be that scared, every time there's a chance you might not come back…"

Suddenly, he was very aware of all the points where they touched: her hands in his, their knees bumping against one another as they both sat cross-legged, her breath brushing his cheek.

"…I want all the good stuff too." She leaned in and kissed him, lightly. "Ask me again. Not saying it doesn't protect me at all, it doesn't make it not real, so I'll say it as many times as it takes for you to know I mean it." A smile, there; the one he loved. "Ask me again, McGee. Third time's the charm."

It didn't make much sense, but it made enough, which probably meant they'd been friends too long. McGee didn't care. "Why are you here?"

Her eyes were steady on his. "Because I love you."

And he believed her. He tugged her closer, into his lap so that he could wrap his arms around her, and if it hurt he didn't notice.

"I love you too."

FIN