A/N: The weird thing about coming back to writing after being gone so long is I'm actually not having problems with writers block. I wrote chapters 41-45 of this story in around 2 days. When you consider that I also worked and looked after my now 10 month old daughter, I think I did ok lol. I'm also back to working on my other WIPs, so keep an eye out. F.
He felt like he was walking on air.
He'd done it.
He'd waited until he'd made it to his car to allow himself more than a small smile and a 'Thank you, sir', but now that he was there he could let himself go a little more.
Grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket, he called Headquarters and asked to be put through to the Psych department. He took the first available appointment for his evaluation, registering as he did so that the evaluation would end the week before Adams' court martial began. He went to make another call and stopped, his finger hovering over the touch screen. Changing his mind, he put the Porsche in gear and headed back to the Yard. Some news was better delivered in person.
...
The team's cars were still in their customary places in the parking lot, Abby's included. Good. He wanted to be able to tell them all. He went first to the lab, finding it in darkness. Where was Abby? Shrugging his good shoulder- it was one movement he couldn't get out of his bad side, no matter how much he tried- he headed upstairs to the bullpen.
Abby was perched on the edge of his desk, talking to the rest of his team. It was obvious that they'd been discussing the trial; pictures of the crater in the Yard were displayed on the plasma. He ignored them, rushing into the middle of the discussion, not caring that he was interrupting Tony.
"Boss, Boss, I did it!" He waved the papers that Captain Clark had given him.
"Did what, McGee?" Gibbs sounded slightly exasperated at his interruption.
"I passed the firearms test. Here." He handed Gibbs the paperwork just as Abby collided with him in one of her trademark Abby-hugs. As the breath was crushed out of him he was dimly aware of Gibbs unfolding the papers and inspecting them through his reading glasses.
"Abs. Abs, can't breathe..."
"Oops, sorry Timmy." She let him go but stayed close by, as if she'd hug him again at any moment. He looked around for Ziva, who was standing behind her desk looking proud and happy.
"Thanks, Ziva. I couldn't have done it without you."
"You do not need to thank me, McGee. You would have done the same for me."
He nodded, saying that his instruction wouldn't have been as effective.
"This is good work, McGee." Gibbs added with his rather rare smile.
"Thanks Boss."
"So, when's the psych test?" Tony wanted to know.
"Starts Monday of next week. I made the appointment before I drove over here."
"But that means it ends..."
"The Friday before Adams' court martial." He finished for Abby. "I know."
"That doesn't give you much time, McGee."
"To prepare for the trial, Tony? I didn't really work the case. All they want me to do is go up and show how much movement I've lost. I don't need to prepare for that. That's just...normal for me now." He knew his words had become a little bitter as he spoke. Taking a deep breath, he continued "The psych evaluation is more important. I need to get my life back. If I let him take that, then he's won." He smiled at Abby as he said it, knowing she'd understand. She hugged him again, and then stepped back.
"We need to celebrate."
He shook his head. "No."
"But McGee, this is really important!"
"No, Abs. When I get my badge back, then we can celebrate."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
...
Time seemed to be doing strange things. Monday had seemed so far away, and then all of a sudden it was Sunday before he knew it.
McGee was nervous about the psych evaluation. Though he'd said in his statement that he'd come to terms with his injuries, he knew that there was a part of him that was still bitter about what he'd lost. And he wasn't certain that the bitterness would ever go away. He'd gone to work a normal, fit, healthy man and come home with a permanent disability and an uncertain future. Surely a small amount of bitterness was normal? And he knew that there were some aspects of his changed life that he was still having trouble dealing with. Everyone had problems; surely his weren't enough to keep him out of the field?
He'd spent the week catching up on any computer issues that the team was having with their current case, tying up any loose ends on their last case, and just generally getting things in order so that the team wouldn't need anything from him while he was undergoing evaluation. It was routine, slightly tedious work but it kept him occupied and stopped him from dwelling on the next couple of weeks. Mostly.
Sunday night found him unable to sleep. He tossed and turned and finally fell into a light doze; which was broken by one of his recurring nightmares.
"Why today, Jethro?" he asked his dog, not really expecting an answer. "Today, of all days." He really didn't need the unsettled feeling that the nightmares always left him with. He looked at the clock, decided against trying to get back to sleep, and started getting ready for the day.
...
He was early to his appointment. Dr Talbot's receptionist let the doctor know he was there, then went back to her work. A few minutes later the doctor's office door opened and the doctor herself came out to greet him.
"Agent McGee?"
He nodded and stood to shake her outstretched hand.
"I'm Dr Talbot. I've been expecting you. Are you ready?"
He took a deep breath and nodded.
"I'm ready."