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TWENTY

Tim lay comfortable and relaxed on his bed in his apartment. It felt strange, being here during the middle of the day with no deadline tapping him on the shoulder, or schedule running through his head of what to do next and where to go. These days of peace and healing were drawing to a close, and he intended to savor them until the very last. It would be the middle of winter by the time he returned to work. That meant heavy coats and scarves, and hurrying through frigid air to rush into cars or warm buildings. He intended to stay as warm as possible, loath to experience the depth of cold he'd already been through. Disturbing memories bled through his thoughts, and with a deep sigh, he allowed them. He watched them scroll across his mind, then quietly pushed them aside, replacing them with the vague but real impressions of safety and finality that he'd felt when he was found. Slowly, gradually, peace settled over him again like a familiar friend's embrace.

Abby, curled against his side, rubbed her hand lightly across his middle. He felt the slight bump as her palm slid over the bandages hidden beneath his shirt. He lifted his hand and laid it across hers on his stomach. He felt her shift and heard the soft gasp in the back of her throat.

"I'm sorry - did I hurt you?"

He smiled. "No. I'm all right."

The mattress dipped when she rose and shifted her weight to her elbow. He turned his head and found her with her chin braced on her hand, watching him.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked.

She smiled when he lifted the arm that had been cupped around her and touched her cheek. "How lucky I am."

Her smile softened and her eyes grew serious. "How lucky we all are." Curving her palm softly against his face, she touched her lips to his mouth.

A knock against his front door and a distant, muffled voice announcing, "McGee! Open up!" made Abby smile against Tim's mouth and pull back.

"That would be Tony." Rolling gracefully off the bed, she tucked stray hairs back in place and reached for her bag. "He's early."

Tim rolled to his side, braced his ribs, and sat up. "You know how he is when Ziva invites all of us to dinner; he can't wait to eat!" Chuckling, he stood, leaned forward to accept another kiss, then watched Abby walk to the door. She turned the lock and opened it, waited for Tony to come inside, then left, closing the door behind her.

"Come at a bad time?" Tony asked with a knowing grin on his face.

McGee shook his head and turned to straighten the bed. "No, Tony, you didn't catch us doing anything. You know Abby and I are just friends." Muscles still twinged and pulled uncomfortably as his torso twisted, but far less than the tear-inducing agony he'd first encountered during his healing process.

Tony stepped forward and offered, "Here, let me do that."

But McGee brushed his hands aside and continued, knowing the activity was good for him. "I can do it, thanks. I'll be coming back to work soon; might as well get used to doing things on my own again."

Tony rubbed his hands against his legs and looked around. Finally, he moved to McGee's desk and took a seat. McGee watched, noting the awkward tension and sporadic motions of his hands, as if looking for something to do. Two seconds later Tony was back on his feet and at McGee's closet, filing through his clothes. He chose a shirt and pulled it out, holding it against his chest. "This new?"

McGee's shoulders lifted in a sigh. He sat on the edge of his bed. "What's on your mind, Tony?"

Tony replaced the shirt. "Nothing. What makes you think something's on my mind?"

"Because you gave me that shirt for Christmas last year."

"Oh." Absently patting his hand against the hanging clothes, Tony walked across the room and returned to the desk. He took a deep breath, braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

Tim let the silence settle between them. He knew this discussion would happen sooner or later. He'd already been through something similar with Gibbs, though most of the words had come from his side of the conversation. It was as if his friends needed to realign themselves with him, or re-sync their lives with each other.

"So, how are things?" Leaning back, Tony crossed his arms against his chest.

"Good. I'm a lot stronger. Scars are starting to form, but the doctor gave me some special cream that will help them fade with time."

Tony nodded. "Good, good. Your sessions going okay?"

"My - oh, you mean my appointments with Dr. Gray, the psychiatrist? Yeah, he'd helped me a lot. I've learned how to work through my memories and look past them to the present."

"That's -," Tony glanced at his watch, "good, too." He pushed against his knees and stood. "Well, it's a little early, but if you're ready we can go ahead and start for Ziva's -"

McGee didn't move. "Not just yet, Tony. I need to tell you some things first." He waited as Tony slowly sat back down. He smiled. "You don't have to look so worried - it's not like I'm going to say anything you don't already know."

Tony shrugged and made a visible effort to look casual. He crossed one leg and laced his fingers together over his knee. "If I already know it then why do you have to tell me?"

"Because it needs to be said. You need to hear it." Leaning forward, McGee braced his forearms against his thighs. "I wanted to thank you for not giving up and for finding me in time."

Tony froze for a second, then he dropped his leg and sat straight, watching McGee.

"I know it's your job, and I know you wouldn't have stopped anyway, because you're not a quitter. But it was knowing that about you, and Ziva, and Gibbs, that helped me - helped me not give up." He rushed on when Tony opened his mouth to speak. "Wait - I'm not finished." Tony's mouth shut with an audible snap. McGee grinned. "I remembered things you told me, and advice Ziva and Gibbs had given me, so in a way, you were all there with me, helping me fight Tilton, helping me survive."

Tony smiled. "When we were at the hospital, Ziva told me, 'Friends make us stronger. Friends who do not stop looking for you, even when it seems you can never be found.'"

McGee nodded, and agreed with a quiet voice, "Exactly."

Tony stood and Tim joined him. "I'm glad we got to you in time, Tim. If we hadn't, I think Ziva and I would be sitting in court right now, defending Gibbs for murder."

Tim smiled. "Speaking of Ziva, let's go see what's for dinner." He didn't protest when Tony grabbed his jacket and helped him put it on. He knew this new, servant-like attitude wouldn't last long, so he'd better enjoy it while it lasted.

Tim took note of the details - Tony's hand against his back as they walked through the door, Abby's special attention and increasing affection, the feeling that he shared a certain kinship with Ziva, the certainty of Gibbs' loyalty and parental devotion - he gathered all of these together and let them fill his thoughts, knowing that slowly, they would replace the dark terrors that still gripped him in his dreams. Stay in the moment. He smiled, and followed Tony to the car.

The End

Epilogue

On a dark, two-lane road, a plain grey van swerved to miss a deer. The driver lost control and the vehicle careened off the road, rolling to its side through a deep ravine and coming to a grinding halt against a tree. The engine sizzled and metal pinged as it cooled. Inside, the driver lay slumped against his passenger, both men dead. In the back, one man, dressed in a bright orange coverall, lay broken and bleeding, twisted like a discarded marionette. The other man, similarly dressed, kicked at the half bent back door until it opened enough for him to squeeze through. Hands shackled, limping because of the rough tumble in the crashed van, he stumbled through the opening. Moonlight drifted across his chest, revealing his tag: Prisoner #2BT992 – Tilton. Quickly, he disappeared into the surrounding trees.