A/N - here we go. Gonna wrap this up so I can have the rest of the weekend off! :-) Hope you like it. It gets a little mushy, so be warned!

And as I should have said at the start, I do not own these characters. I just borrow them every now and again.

Chapter 11

Gibbs felt better than he had felt for a long time. He was back where he wanted to be and almost as good as new. He leaned heavily on a cane as he waited for the elevator door to open, the only obvious hint of the ordeal he had been through. He had stepped through those elevator doors a thousand times, but this time he felt a little nervous and couldn't put his finger on why. Taking a deep breath, he threw his shoulders back and straightened up when the elevator pinged. The doors slid open and he stepped out, a slight twinge in his back serving as a reminder each time he put weight on his right leg. The cane was for those times when the twinge became more severe.

As he emerged from the elevator, almost every eye in the office turned towards him and noticeable nudges and whispers heralded his arrival. Gibbs felt very self-conscious and his pride wanted to hide the cane, but his doctor's warnings rang in his head: use it! They all knew he had been seriously wounded and most hadn't seen him for the best part of three months. There were a few shouts of 'welcome back, Gibbs' and 'good to see you, Gibbs' from colleagues around the office. He nodded, raised his hand in acknowledgement and continued towards his desk, feeling slightly embarrassed. There was no sign of his team. He shrugged and walked around to his chair.

He grinned broadly when he saw his desk. Someone, he suspected Abby, had decorated the wall behind his chair and his PC with 'Welcome Back' banners and love hearts. She had even placed a back support in his chair. He looked around. Everything was pretty much as he had left it, everything in its place. He eased himself into his chair and relaxed back. Having been through hell for the last few months, normality felt good.

The path to normality wasn't quite as straight and simple as he would have liked. He experienced twists and turns, highs and lows before eventually reaching his destination. Following his second surgery, he remained quite ill for the best part of a week before the infection cleared and he started to feel close to his normal self. Being confined to bed for the majority of that time was torture. Not only was he helpless, relying on the nurses and doctors for his every need, but as his reflexes returned he often suffered painful muscle spasms that seemed to last forever. He found the whole excruciating experiencing humiliating. It took another couple of weeks before he was allowed to walk any distance, and even then he had to be aided by a member of staff. He tried his best to keep positive in front of his team. He only allowed two of them to see him at his weakest, Ducky and Tony. They were the only two he let help him walk to the bathroom or short distances along the corridor. They were the only two he allowed to see his true pain.

For Tony, this was the most difficult part. His heart ached as he watched his boss struggle to take just a couple of steps, hearing the catch in his breath as a dart of pain hit him and Gibbs' grip on his forearm when the pain got too much. Tony tried to be there for him for every painful step, catching him when his frail body failed him. As usual, they never exchanged much in the way of deep conversation, just small talk broken with meaningful moments of unspoken truth. Gibbs made it clear from the outset that he didn't want the younger agent's pity, just his help. And Tony never let him down. Silently, he dealt with his guilt, his penance to act as Gibbs' emotional crutch.

And there was little Gibbs could ever hide from Ducky. He talked to him more openly than he talked to anyone else. Ducky asked the questions that no one else dared ask. His medical expertise gave him an advantage in that respect. He could see that Jethro was struggling and tried to coax him into talking to someone. But as stubborn as ever, Gibbs insisted that he could handle it all. Ducky, of course, worked his own magic and spoke to Dr. Ryan behind Gibbs' back and would give her a heads up whenever he had a particularly bad day.

Gibbs spent a long six weeks in hospital, during which time he experienced a rollercoaster of emotions. The frustration of being dependent on others was difficult for him to bear. He was testy, snapping at anyone and everyone. As his activity level increased, he found himself in almost constant pain, reliant on meds, which wore him down and he slowly sank into a depression, not wanting to see anyone.

His frustration led to anger and he would lash out, verbally, most of the time. Despite his often unbearable moods and frequent hurtful remarks, his team never once let him down. They ensured that he was never alone for very long. They worked a rota and each spent several hours every week with their boss. When he needed a shoulder to cry on, someone was there. When he needed a punching bag, someone was there. When he needed the truth, they gave it to him straight. Sometimes the truth hurt, but he was hit with it anyway because his team, his family, knew it was the only way to get him through this.

Jackson Gibbs stayed at his son's house for several weeks and visited the hospital every day until he was convinced that his son would recover. He eventually had to return to Stillwater to make some arrangements with regards to his store. His intention was to be back in DC when Gibbs was discharged. He knew his son would need assistance around the house for the first while.

To Gibbs' surprise, Dr. Ryan continued to come to see him, despite his early attempts at pushing her away as he fell into a depression. She could see straight through him. She put her psychological training to good use. He would often snap at her and tell her not to "shrink" him, but she would shrug off his belligerence. Nights when he felt defeated and broken, she would arrive to his room and remind him of service men in that very hospital who were far worse off than he was. She would figuratively slap him upside his head, chastise him for his negativity and then give him one of her seductive smiles to let him know it was all right. She would bring him coffee from his favourite diner some mornings and almost every evening, which really brightened his day. They would share a coffee, she would tell him about her day, the parts that weren't classified at least, and he would listen, finding comfort in the sound of her voice.

She made him feel calm. He had no idea what magic she was weaving, but she was definitely getting under his skin. He was surprised how much he missed her when she wasn't there. She was a strong, intelligent woman, undeniably confident and stunningly attractive. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was definitely something there.

Ducky could see the change in his friend through the weeks, not just the physical improvement, but the emotional one also. Despite the trauma and stressful circumstances, Jethro was verging on happiness. Ducky continuously monitored and discussed Jethro's progress with his doctors and knew each time he had a set back or a bad day. He would come to visit and Gibbs would be petulant and sullen. On many such occasions he would arrange for Dr. Ryan to call by and almost instantly Gibbs' face would light up as though someone had flipped a switch. He had seen it before and knew the signs. Gibbs had fallen for this woman. He just hoped she wouldn't break his heart.

After his initial six weeks in hospital, Jethro was transferred to a rehab unit attached to the hospital, where he underwent weeks of intensive physical therapy. He endured hours of tortuous exercises and therapies, whose sole aim was to strengthen the muscles in his abdomen and back and get him walking unaided again. He was so determined to get back to the way he was, he often overexerted himself. Sometimes in his rush to get better, he would in fact re-injure the site and end up worse off. Eventually his therapists had to sit him down and convince him to trust them and to go at the pace they set. If he did, they promised him that he would reach his goal. He listened to them, realising that they were the experts and were only trying to their best by him. In the rehabilitation unit, he met young men and women far worse off than he. They were mostly young Marines back from Afghanistan with blast injuries, disfigurements, lost limbs and brain injuries. They were heroes who were trying to rebuild their lives after paying an enormous price in the service of their country.

It humbled him and he mellowed somewhat. How could he feel sorry for himself when these young people were getting on with it? He would get better. Many of them wouldn't and would have to adapt to their limitations. Talking to them set him straight. It helped get him in the right frame of mind. If they could do it, then so could he. He worked hard, pushed himself sometimes beyond his physical limits. He would often be exhausted by the time he was back in his room and asleep when his visitors arrived.

His hard work did pay and three months after that fateful day in Shenandoah, he stepped through the front door of his house. Tony had picked him up from the hospital and drove him home. He was surprised to find his father in the kitchen, cooking a steak dinner. Tony had to rush because the team had caught a case, so he left Gibbs with his father. Once Tony left, Jackson hugged his son tightly.

"I told you you'd beat it," he said proudly.

He handed his son a cold beer.

"So, you gonna stand there or you gonna eat?" Jack said, turning his back and reaching for two plates.

"Smells good," Gibbs said, limping slightly to the kitchen table and gingerly sitting down.

"They gave you a cane, I see," Jackson noted.

"Yep! Doc said I'm to use it for another couple of weeks," Gibbs said, dropping the cane to the floor. "DiNozzo said it makes me look like Dr. House, whatever that means."

"Hah! I've seen that show," Jackson said, placing the plates on the table. "You know, he's right."

Gibbs shrugged, still not getting the joke, and then tucked into the best meal he'd had in months. That evening he went down to his basement. He had missed the solitude of his own space. He took a sander in his hand and slowly ran it along the beam of his latest project. Each time he stretched to reach the higher beam, his body would remind him that he wasn't one hundred percent. After only a short time, his back felt tired and achy. Again, the wise words of his doctors telling him not to over-do it rang in his ears. He called it a night. He smiled as he hauled his leaden body up the stairs; he was getting sensible in his old age.

The next morning, Dr. Ryan called by bringing coffee and bagels. Jackson, none too subtle, decided that he had to take a walk and left Gibbs and Ryan on the sofa together. She smiled deviously at Gibbs and Gibbs blushed slightly. Ryan was never one for waiting for him to make the first move, so she leaned over and kissed him passionately on the lips. He responded in kind. After a short while, they came up for air.

"I've been waiting to do that for a long time. How long do you think he'll be gone?" Ryan asked artfully.

"Long enough," Gibbs replied.

"Can you manage the stairs?" she asked, standing up and taking his hand.

Gibbs grinned.

"I can manage a lot of things," he said, standing slowly. She led him by the hand, up the stairs, to his bedroom.

They made gentle, leisurely love that morning, Ryan careful to take things slow and not hurt Gibbs. After their love-making, she lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, her fingers tracing the large scar running down his abdomen.

"I was scared, you know," she admitted softly.

"Huh? Scared of what?"

"Losing you," she replied sheepishly.

He pulled her closer but said nothing. Her honesty had caught him off guard. He still wasn't sure where this was going, but he liked where it was at right now. They lay in each other's arms until they heard Jackson returning.

"I'd better be going," Ryan said, sitting up and looking around for her clothes.

"What's the rush?" Gibbs asked.

"It's 10.30am. I was supposed to be in work an hour ago," she said, pulling on her blouse.

"We should do this again sometime," Gibbs said cheekily.

Ryan smiled and threw his shirt at him playfully, hitting him in the face.

"So, how about dinner? My place, tomorrow?" Ryan asked as she wriggled into her skirt.

"Sounds good," Gibbs replied, putting his hands behind his head and watching her dress.

She leaned over and kissed Gibbs before heading down the stairs, shouting goodbye to Jackson and leaving.

The next evening, Gibbs drove to Ryan's house, even though he wasn't really supposed to be driving yet. He spent a relaxing evening with Ryan and her son, Parker. Parker was fifteen years old and very impressed to have a government agent dating his mom. He asked to see Gibbs' weapon, but Gibbs told him that he was off duty and didn't carry while off duty. He lied. Gibbs never left home without his side arm, but guessed that his mother wouldn't be happy if he let him hold a gun.

Parker was very curious and cross-examined him about what it was like to get shot. Ryan apologised for her son's inquisitiveness but Gibbs told her not to. He didn't mind telling his war stories to the young lad. He was surprisingly candid and told the youngster of some of his previous injuries and how this time, he was sure he was going to die. Parker asked if he was scared when it happened and Gibbs answered honestly. Yes, he was most definitely scared.

Parker, like any young lad, wanted to see his scars, but his mother quickly interjected and made an excuse that dessert was ready and asked Parker to help her. She mouthed an apology to Gibbs, who just smiled and shook his head. He liked the boy. He was curious but sensible, very like his mother.

The three of them spent a lovely evening together. Gibbs enjoyed the family dynamic and it poignantly reminded him of his own loss. He didn't spend the night, both agreeing that it would be confusing for Parker.

The following day, he had a meeting with Director Vance to discuss his return to work. His doctor had passed him fit to resume light duties, much to his relief. Vance and he discussed his restrictions and his role within the team until he had recovered. They agreed that Tony would be the senior agent in the field and that Gibbs would supervise cases from his desk in the short term. While it would be difficult for Gibbs not to be able to work in the field, he had no problem trusting that part of the job to Tony. He knew that it would only be temporary. They agreed that he would return to active duty the following Monday.

And he did. He was just settling in behind his desk when Abby bounded around the corner.

"Gibbs! You're back!" she yelled excitedly.

"Hey, Abs. Where is everyone?"

"Dead Marine in Georgetown. The call came in an hour ago. They'll be mad that they're not here to welcome you back, Gibbs," Abby said.

"I don't want a fuss, Abs. So, do we have an ID on the Marine yet?" he asked.

"Straight back into it, eh, Gibbs?"

"Absolutely," Gibbs said, trying to conceal his delight. "But first, coffee!"

"C'mon, Bossman," Abby said, waving her arm. "My shout."

THE END

A/N - well, love it or hate it, that's the end of it! Again, thanks to you all for reviewing and contacting me. You really made me feel like this was worthwhile. It means a lot to see that other people enjoy my humble stories.

Till next time...Ciao!