Part 2

When I finally got out of the hospital, I went home, where, to my surprise, Jake was there waiting.

"How come you're home? It's early!"

"Well you just got out of the hospital! I wanted to be here!"

"Jake, I'm fine. I don't need to be babysat."

"Ellie, yes you do," he insisted. "You can hardly walk with your crutch, let alone on your own! You only have one good arm, and one good leg!"

"I'm going to work tomorrow."

"No, Ellie," Jake said persistently. "Maybe next week."

As the week slowly went by, I got more and more irritated. I couldn't do anything besides sit around, for the most part. On Tuesday, I decided that it was time for me to go into work. I honestly didn't care what Jake said. To my surprise, he approved with letting me go in, just no working in the field. I agreed, and Jake dropped me off.

I hobbled into the bullpen. Hobbled. Slowly.

"Ah Eleanor!" Ducky said.

"Bishop!" Abby yelled as she ran over to me and hugged me. I cringed from the pain.

"Gibbs," I said. "What's the case?" I asked.

"You're not working on it."

"Boss," Tim said. We could really use her at her desk."

"This—" Tony started.

"Don't even start with your movies, Tony. I don't really want to hear it."

"Um, ok, but that's not what I was going to say. I was going to ask you how you are feeling."

"Oh!" I said, surprised. "Fine I guess. Still sore."

McGee chimed in, "I'd bet!"

"Bishop," Gibbs whispered in my ear. "Can you trace this," he asked me as he showed me a phone number written on a slip of paper.

"I guess." I had already started reading the numbers when he walked away.

"Glad to have you back," Tony said.

About a month later my shoulder was feeling much better. It wasn't in a sling anymore, but it still wasn't 100%. My leg was also feeling better, but I still had a crutch. I was still working of course, but I still wasn't allowed in the field, only my desk. It was ok I guess, I do like my desk. But, I also hated it. It was really just a lot of busy work.

That week I could walk again, without a crutch, and Shane said that after physical therapy for a few months, I should be good to go again. I was glad to hear that. I wanted to be back in the field.

I was finally closer to working for real again until Gibbs said, "No. No field work." He pointed to my desk. "Track the car. Check the BOLO. No field work. You still can't shoot a gun."

"How would you know!? I haven't even tried to shoot a gun yet!"

"Your shoulder isn't 100%. I don't want you to hurt it more."

"Gibbs, I won't. Just let me try. I'll be careful."

"I am not going to lose another agent," Gibbs said, raising his voice. "I also don't want you to get hurt again, or any more than you already are!"

"You're doing it again, Gibbs! You're going easy on me!" I was now yelling.

He matched my tone. "Sit in your chair. You are not working in the field. End of discussion!" He stormed out of the room.

I walked over to my desk, but I didn't sit down. I didn't want any more files, or tracking requests. I just wanted to work again. I felt a tear slide down my face.

"You're giving up, Ellie," I thought. "You're too weak. You can't do it. They're better than you. You're not strong enough." I could feel myself staring into blank space.

Tim walked in.

"Oh! Hey Bishop! I didn't know you were still here!"

"Uh, yeah," I said. I was flustered. I reached for my pen on my desk. "I forgot my pen!" I said with a fake half smile.

"Oh, yeah. I just needed this," he replied as he pulled papers out of his desk and avoided eye contact. "Well, uh, bye."

"Bye Tim."

"Oh, and uh, rule #51; sometimes you're wrong." He walked out of the room.

I started to process that. What did he mean? How was I wrong? Should I be sitting in my chair? I thought about it for a while. I sat in my chair and ran my fingers through my hair. I looked at my computer. The post it note. "Rule #51: Sometimes, you're wrong" Was I wrong? Did this all happen for a reason? Am I not giving up? Can I do this?