A/N: My mistake. This is the last chapter. I thought there were 12 chapters. Apparently, I can't count.

Chapter 11

Tim woke up with a start and looked around for Mit. It didn't seem possible that he could have won so easily. He remembered shoving Mit back toward the mirror. He'd hit it, screamed and then disappeared. Could it be that easy?

Somehow, he doubted it.

Tim pulled himself to a sitting position.

"Timothy, you're awake!"

Tim glanced toward Ducky for a moment, but then he looked back toward the bathroom.

"Timothy?"

"How long has it been, Ducky? How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours, I believe. It's fairly late."

"Probie!"

Tim looked toward Tony...and he shook his head.

"It's not over."

"What do you mean? You said he disappeared," Tony said, furrowing his brow.

"He disappeared when I was ten years old, too. ...and he still came back. It was too easy."

Tim started to get off his bed, but Ducky caught his arm.

"Timothy, you've had a rough time of it. Perhaps..."

"No, Ducky!" Tim pulled his arm away and stood up, looking around, wanting some sign of success or failure. This limbo was unacceptable.

"McGee?"

Tim looked back at the doorway to his room one more time. Gibbs and Ziva were there, looking at him.

"It's not over, Boss. It can't be. It doesn't feel right. It's not...It was too easy."

Gibbs looked at him for a few seconds, evaluating.

"Boss, I've had way more interactions with him than any of you. I know that this was too easy. Please...just trust me this once!"

"What do you want to do, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know, but I know that..."

Tim actually sensed the change in the room before he saw anything. He turned toward the window and vaguely heard Tony asking him what he was doing.

Then, the window over his bed exploded, shattered into pieces. The shards of glass swirled around and around a central point. Tim staggered backwards. He felt a hand on his arm, urging him back, but this time, he was determined not to let this happen again. It had to be ended. Once and for all. His idea to use the lights had been only partially successful.

Mit resumed his shape in the midst of the swirling pieces of glass, and Tim felt himself weaken as Mit sucked away his life to fuel his own.

"No more of this, Mit!" he shouted over the wind. "No more!"

"You have no power over me now! None!"

"Oh, really?"

Ignoring the movement behind him, Tim bent over, pulled a concealed knife from a sheath around his ankle and threw himself through the glass-and-wind wall. He ignored the cuts from the glass.

"You wanted a body...here's how it feels to have one!"

He took the knife and rammed it into the chest of his childhood demon. He pushed it as hard as he could and then twisted it.

"How does that feel?" he shouted.

Mit shrieked and grabbed Tim around the neck.

"You're coming with me! I won't let go! We're going together!"

Tim would have thought of something to retort if he could have talked. As it was, Mit's very-corporeal fingers were digging into his neck, choking off the air, bruising his windpipe. Instead, he did the only thing he could, and that was drive the knife further into Mit's body.

"If I die, you die, too!" Mit shouted.

Then, there was a roar of sound, coming from behind him. One roar and then another roar...and then Mit's hands were falling away...the wind was lessening, less glass flying around. Other hands grabbed his arms.

"NO!" Mit screamed.

Another roar of sound echoed in Tim's ears, and his vision was going black, but he struggled to stay conscious, to see what would happen.

"Never...again..." Tim choked out in a whisper. "You...are...nothing..."

One last wail and Mit exploded, the pieces flying outward like bits of sand, bits of glass...and then, he was gone.

Tim stared at the place where he had been for a few seconds and then he felt as though he had no energy at all, nothing to keep him upright, certainly nothing to keep him conscious and he let the blackness take over, even as he heard voices talking to him. He couldn't fight the darkness and he had no real desire to. It was easier to give in.

The hands that had held him up now eased him to the floor and he heard only one voice clearly. It was whispered, but it was right by his ear.

"Don't let go, McGee. Don't let him win."

Win? What? Tim didn't understand and things were getting more and more distant. The hands on his arms were fading away.

"Keep breathing. Breathe, McGee."

Tim inhaled and, to his surprise, the feeling of the hands returned. He exhaled and then inhaled again and felt an ache in his throat.

He struggled to open his eyes again.

"Stay with us, Probie."

Tim tried to look around, but that was beyond him. He could only look at what was right in front of his face.

"That's good, Timothy. Just keep breathing and stay still. I don't think the cuts are too serious."

Cuts? What cuts?

"Just breathe, McGee. Don't worry about anything else."

An unfamiliar sound to the side of him and something around his arm.

It was so quiet.

A small hiss of air.

"Good. His blood pressure is rising and the heart rate is becoming regular again. I believe we're passed the worst of it."

"But of what?"

There was a low chuckle.

"That I can't tell you, Anthony. Whatever it was, it's gone now."

Tim took another deep breath and his eyes stayed open longer. Tony's faced loomed large over him for a moment.

"Welcome back, Probie."

"...back?" Tim breathed.

"Yes, you were...gone for a moment," Ziva said softly. He couldn't see her, but he heard her voice.

"...gone?"

"Well, your body wasn't, but you sure weren't here."

Tim thought he might have smiled.

"You seem to be getting some color back in your cheeks. Would you be averse to being moved off the floor?" Ducky asked.

"...as...long...as I don't...have...to...move myself."

Tony laughed. "We'll move you, McGee. Never fear."

Another possible smile.

"Not...anymore..."

A feeling of flying and then one of softness...and Tim was lying on his own bed. He still didn't feel able to do much moving, but he was feeling better all the time.

"Tired," he said.

"Would you like to sleep again, Timothy?"

"Yes."

"Very well. We will stay and watch to make sure nothing goes wrong. You may feel free to sleep."

"Family...coming."

"If you're still asleep when they arrive, we'll tell them where you are and what happened...as much as we can."

Tim nodded and let his eyes close again.

"You're safe, Timothy."

...and that was a nice feeling.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next morning...

Tim awakened with the feeling of arms around him. Hoping desperately that it wasn't someone like Tony...or Ducky...or Gibbs...he chanced opening his eyes...and sighed with relief when he saw it was Abby.

The movement woke her up and she looked at him, smiled and then hugged him tightly and let open the floodgates.

"Oh, Tim! You're awake! I was so worried about you! First, all those things we found! Then, the plan you guys made! Then, I had to stay behind in case something happened! Then, they told me what happened and that it was bad and I had to wait until they made sure you were okay and then I came and you were asleep! ...and I had to let you sleep and you like this and..."

"...like what?" Tim asked, now a little worried.

"Haven't you seen yourself, Tim?" she asked...and then looked horrified. "I mean...you yourself, not the reflection self that was weird and and really real...and really hinky and...evil. I just..."

Tim pushed himself upright and was relieved to find that he could do it feeling only a bit dizzy.

"Abby...what are you talking about?"

"Your face! It's all...cut up!"

"It is?"

"Don't you remember what happened?"

"Uh..." Tim thought back and then realized that, yes, there had been some glass flying around...and he seemed to remember running through it. "Yes. I remember. I look bad?"

"Yeah. It's like someone went psycho and gave you a hundred paper cuts."

"Paper cuts?" Tim asked, wondering if he should feel insulted by that.

"Well...maybe not paper cuts...but there are lots of them. I would show you, but your bathroom mirror is broken...and they had to put up plywood over your window. You didn't even twitch when they were nailing it up."

"I was really tired."

Abby's expression turned serious. "You were more than tired from what Tony and Ziva said. It was like you died."

Tim thought about it. "Mit did say that he was going to take me with him. Maybe he got closer than I thought he did."

"Mit."

"Yes."

"I have to believe you, Tim...because nothing else explains what I've seen and what everyone else saw, but..."

"It's unbelievable."

"Yeah."

"I just want it to be over...never to be seen again."

"Do you think it is?"

"I don't know. I'm not really sure. I want to think so..."

Abby hugged him again.

"At least now we know."

Tim hugged her back. "I like that."

He looked back behind him at the boarded-up window.

"They really did that while I was asleep?"

Abby smiled. "Yeah. Tony had to check to make sure you hadn't died when they were pounding nails."

"I didn't."

"I'm really glad."

"Me, too." Tim furrowed his brow. "...my parents? Did they come?"

Abby smiled. "They did. I think Gibbs and Ducky gave you a reprieve."

"Great."

Tim leaned back in bed and just listened to the silence. He didn't have the shadowy feeling of Mit...feeding off him. It was a feeling that had been with him for almost his entire life only he hadn't really noticed it before. He felt...free.

"Abby?"

"Yeah?"

"I think he's gone. For good."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Abby hugged him once more.

"Good."

Tim couldn't agree more.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Two weeks later...

Tim opened his eyes and looked at the window. It had just been put in yesterday. Then, he got up and walked into the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror for a long time.

The only thing he saw was his reflection. His real reflection.

It was a relief.

Jethro barked from the living room and Tim looked away. Out of habit, he turned quickly back to the mirror.

Only his reflection.

Mit was gone.

Tim smiled and left the bathroom.

FINIS!