Well, the story is almost over; I think everything should be wrapped up in one final chapter still to come. I hope you folks have enjoyed reading it because it's been an absolute blast to write! I almost hate for it to come to an end—it's been so much fun—but time to start a new story—or write a sequel. Anyway, as always, I appreciate the reviews!

Sam and Garrison moved G to the hangar and made him as comfortable as they could. Anna had dipped her scarf in water, and while his head rested in her lap, she gently stroked his face with the damp cloth. He regained consciousness and looked up at her as her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders. He smiled, "Hannah Lawson?"

"I couldn't say Anna Kolcheck. Anyway, it did get you moving."

"Yea, it did . . . Too bad I wasn't faster," G said as he glanced at the bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He tried to rise up so that he could see the interior, but he was too weak and laid his head back down. "Is everybody okay?"

"Everybody who needs to be okay is," Anna smiled.

Seeing that G was awake, Sam came over and knelt down beside him. "How you doing, G?"

"I've been better." He paused and then flashed that grin that Sam knew so well. "How you liking Belarus?"

"I'm not making a return visit," Sam admitted with a little disgust.

"Me, neither," G confessed and then stifled a grimace as he took a breath.

Sam's eyes flashed sudden concern. "What do you need, G?"

"About a month in bed. Think Hetty will approve it?"

"She'll probably demand it—and make me babysit you."

G laughed slightly and then started coughing violently. "Geez, it's been a few days since I've done that."

"Heard a joke?"

"No laughed at one of yours. That hurts."

"It's usually your jokes that hurt," Sam said with a grin as he poured water into a small cup and handed it to G. Anna's hand hovered near the cup, but she didn't offer to help. She was ready to but knew he wanted to do it himself. No matter what his condition, G remained reluctant to rely on anybody but himself. Sam watched G's hand shake as it lifted a cup that weighed no more than 8 ounces, struggle to raise his head enough to be able to take a sip, and spill water as he held it to his lips, but eventually G drank it all and let the cup drop from his hand. That small effort exhausted him, and he laid his head back in Anna's lap. Sam stood up and started to walk away, but G noticed it.

"Where you going, big guy?"

"There are some things that need to be done before we're transported out."

"Need some help?"

Sam turned and looked at G with amazement, "You're kidding, right?"

G raised his eyebrows and gazed at Anna, "What about Anna?"

Anna stared at G with mock surprise, "I'm glad you're feeling better." Then she carefully arranged some blankets to pillow his head and stood up. "I'll help, Sam."

G relaxed as he lay back, and then he noticed Garrison standing silently beside him. G struggled to sit up but failed. Garrison pulled over a chair and sat down so that they were face to face. There was a significant pause before either of them spoke. G finally broke the silence, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what, Grisha?"

"For this. For everything," G said and his expression and his voice reflected his regret and his burden.

"For everything? That's a lot for one man to be responsible for."

"For putting you in danger, then. For almost getting you sent back to prison."

Garrison spoke sincerely, "But you didn't put me in danger, Grisha." And then he was silent before continuing. "If anyone put someone in danger, it was I who put you in danger," and when G started to interrupt, Garrison held up his hand to stop him. "No, Grisha, I put you in danger many years ago, just as I put your mother and your sister in danger."

"You were doing what you thought was right."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I wasn't responsible for the consequences: I've lived with the death of your mother and the death of your sister every day of my life." Garrison paused and G looked away, fighting back tears. "The last time we met, Grisha, I asked you if you hated me."

"I told you then I didn't hate you. I don't hate you," G insisted.

"And I'm grateful that you don't hate me. But now," Garrison continued, "I'm asking you to forgive me."

There was a much more pronounced silence as G turned his gaze to the ceiling and now one or two tears rolled down his face. He turned back to Garrison. "I don't blame you."

With patience, Garrison said, "But do you forgive me, Grisha?"

"You don't need my forgiveness."

"For me, I do."

G struggled with his emotions and a few more hot tears fell. Had he loved his mother? He didn't really remember her, that was true, but he loved the thought of his mother—of having a mother, someone who cared for him and loved him and protected him. And what about his sister, Amy? His memories of her were confused and incomplete, but he loved the idea that she had loved him, that she had called him "baby brother," and that she had wanted to be with him more than anything else. And she had died alone, just like his mother, and G had lived alone for more than 30 years. And now his father—the man who had never come for him in all those years, the only living connection to his mother and his sister—was asking G to forgive him. G looked at Garrison and when he spoke his voice carried the loneliness of more than 30 years. "Do I forgive you? I don't know. But," G continued, "if you don't come with me now, I don't think I ever will."

Garrison smiled with relief. "Then we have a place to start to get to know one another." He paused before he stood up, "I should help Anna and Sam." G closed his eyes and turned away.

Sam carried the body of the man he'd killed in the sniper nest back to the hangar. Sergey had been sloppy and careless in arranging the exchange. Evidently, so many of his recent operations had been successful and uncomplicated that he failed to consider and prepare for the possibility of a rescue attempt. The misdirection from OSP had been good, but Sam recognized the contribution of Sergey's own hubris and G's ability to distract and irritate his captors. Sergey and his men were so intent on G that they neglected to consider the options their adversaries might pursue. Sam, for instance, found the sniper's preparations when he and Anna conducted their reconnaissance just yesterday; that was just simple sloppiness. Not that Sam was complaining. Thinking about all the things that could have gone wrong, he was grateful for Sergey's mistakes. Now, if there were no more complications, they would be on their way home in less than six hours.

Anna drove the Renault closer to the hangar and removed the rest of their supplies, but there was one object she couldn't remove alone. Garrison walked back to the Renault's trunk and together he and Anna lifted the body bag out and set it on the ground beside the car.

Sam dropped the sniper's body at the south end of the hangar and then went to retrieve the last member of Sergey's team. This man—the one who had fled back into the hangar—had tried to escape through the door G had used earlier but had forgotten that Sergey had secured it to prevent any future use. Sam knew Anna was angry, but he realized just how angry when the two of them had cornered the man and she had emptied her clip into him even though he'd been killed by the first bullet. Maybe, Sam thought, that was the reason G took care to not provoke her.

When Sam brought the body to the front of the hangar, they had everything needed to create the tableau that would provide the investigating authorities—and the Russian interests—with the NCIS version of events. The pieces of this puzzle, along with additional misinformation, should ensure everyone's safe return. After dropping the body off, Sam walked over to G to see if he needed anything. When he kneeled down next to his partner, something about G's appearance worried him. Sam shook him until G woke up.

"Can't a guy get some rest?" G asked with some annoyance.

"You okay, G?"

"I was sleeping . . . pretty soundly, too."

"Any trouble breathing?"

"Just a little. It's nothing, Sam, really." Sam noticed that G's breathing was short and more labored than it had been an hour ago.

"What about your ribs? Do you think any of them are broken?"

"Didn't you ask me this an hour ago?"

"Yea, but you weren't having trouble breathing then."

"It's just chest pains."

"Does your chest hurt more than it did an hour ago?"

"I don't think that's possible. Really," G said with some exasperation, "it's nothing a few hours of sleep won't fix."

Sam stepped away as G closed his eyes again, but he was clearly worried. Anna and Garrison joined him.

"What is it, Sam?" Garrison asked quietly.

"Something's wrong. G's starting to have trouble breathing."

"What does that mean?" Anna asked.

"I'm not sure," Sam said, "but I think he may have a hemothorax."

"What does that mean?" Anna asked again. "Is that serious?"

"It means," said Garrison, "that blood is filling up the space between his ribs and lungs."

"It means," Sam said looking back at G, "that if we don't drain the blood, the pressure of the accumulated blood can affect his ability to breathe."

"There must be something we can do," Anna looked anxiously from Sam to Garrison.

"It's been a long time since I've put in a chest drain," Sam said.

"What do you need, Sam?" asked Garrison.

"I need a catheter, some rubber gloves, and rubber bands."

"I'll go," Anna said at once. She went to the Renault, but Sam stopped her—pointing to the bullet holes—so she took one of the SUVs instead. When she pulled out the noise startled G, and Sam and Garrison walked over to him. Sam knelt down beside him again.

G looked at him with foreboding. "Now what?"

"G, I think you have a hemothorax."

The expression on G's face showed he knew exactly what that meant. "You want to cut me?"

"I have to, G. If I don't, you won't be able to breathe. You know that."

"I hate needles, but I hate tubes sticking out of my chest, too."

"G, . . . ."

G waved him off, "I know. Do you even have tubing?"

"Anna's gone to get a catheter."

"I hope she gets a small one."

"It can't be too small, G," Sam reminded him.

G shook his head wearily. "This has been a hell of a week: kidnapped, beaten, tasered, shot, and now my partner's gonna cut a hole in me."

Sam smiled, "You just have good karma, I guess." And then he turned serious. "Which side?"

G closed his eyes, took a breath, and concentrated. "Right."

"Okay, that's good."

"Yea, it is. Nowhere near my heart," he said sarcastically. "By the way, have you ever put in a chest drain?"

"Yes, I have."

"Did he survive?"

"Yes, he did."

"Okay, then. Let's make it two for two," G said and closed his eyes. Sam stood up and walked a short distance away. He took out his combat knife, grateful that he always kept it razor sharp. In less than an hour, Anna pulled up to the hangar.

Sam was impressed. "How fast did you drive?"

"As if Callen's life depended on it," she said as she handed him the bag of items he needed. He took out the catheter; it would work fine. He rinsed the knife blade with antiseptic and then cut the tubing to a workable length.

He walked over to G who couldn't conceal the anxiety he felt as he unbuttoned his shirt. Sam knelt next to G and raised his upper body while Anna removed his shirt, careful not to disturb the bandage that covered the gunshot wound in his shoulder. Once his shirt was off, Sam lowered G back down. He turned to Garrison, "You'll need to hold his shoulders still." Garrison moved and placed his hands securely on G's shoulders and held them firmly against the floor. Then Sam turned to Anna, "You'll need to keep his hips still." Anna straddled G's thighs, her hands pressed firmly against them holding them against the floor. Sam cleaned his blade again and then methodically counted G's ribs until he found the spot for the incision. He swabbed it with antiseptic and then looked at G who was watching with resigned stoicism. "This is gonna hurt, G. I'm sorry."

Through gritted teeth, G retorted, "You will be. Just get it done, Sam."

The blood seeped from the cut and Sam maneuvered the tubing through and into the cavity. G grimaced and groaned and then passed out. Sam worked quickly, and when the tube was placed correctly, he covered the exposed end with the rubber glove and secured it with a rubber band, then cut an end off of one of the glove's fingers. He then raised G's limp right arm above his head. The blood that had collected began draining, and Sam let out a huge sigh of relief. Anna and Garrison also relaxed and released G who was breathing more normally.

"Garrison," Sam asked, "Anna and I will be right back."

"Of course, Sam."

Sam turned to Anna, "Up to taking one last drive in Belarus?"

"Let's go," she said as each of them entered an SUV and drove away from the base, Anna leading the way. Garrison turned back to G and moved his chair so that he had a clear view of the entrance to the base as he watched his son sleep.

Anna and Sam returned in one SUV in less than an hour. The sun was setting and the base would soon be completely dark except for the flashlights they carried. While there was still some light, they staged the scene. They placed Sergey and one of his men in the remaining SUV, while they placed a third on the ground beside it. The fourth, the sniper Sam had killed, they left at the south end of the hangar. Then Sam opened the body bag that lay beside the Renault and lifted out one of the unidentified corpses Garrison had seen at the morgue during his earlier visit. The body was very similar in height, weight, and age to Garrison. This body they placed in the Renault, and then Sam poured gasoline into each of the gas tanks from a gas can. Anna took out the business card she was given at the railway station and called the man who'd met her. She explained that she wouldn't be returning the Renault, but there was an SUV in excellent condition, parked out of view on a small dirt road off the main highway to Vitebsk. She gave him the exact coordinates and told him that the keys were under the floor mat. She suggested he bring new license plates. He thanked her and said he'd pick it up early tomorrow and wished her well on her trip home.

At 9:45 pm, Sam heard the faint whirring sound of a Black Hawk helicopter. He immediately laid out flares and moved G out to the runway. As the Black Hawk touched down about 300 yards from the hangar, Sam moved G as quickly as he could to the chopper as a medic descended and gave him a hand. They got G on board and secured him in a gurney and hooked him up to an IV. Anna and Garrison boarded the chopper as G was being secured and the medic was checking the chest drain. Sam took a block of plastic explosives and ran back to the cars picking up the flares he'd laid down for the helicopter as he went. He left a small piece of the explosives in the hangar; the remaining explosives he divided between the cars. Then he poured the remaining gas over the bodies, put the gas can near the SUV, and on his way back to the chopper, fired into the gas tanks of both cars. They were immediately engulfed in flames, intensified by the explosives. Sam boarded the chopper and the Black Hawk was outbound after spending less than fifteen minutes on the ground. As Sam settled in, G reached out and tapped his leg. Sam leaned over and G said, pointing to the medic, "Tell him I want a lot of pain medication."