If you haven't seen the episode Chimera then there is a very good chance that you will not understand what's going on! This is from Tim's/Adir's point of view. Enjoy!

The hot flashes were coming quicker and hotter. Tim scratched at his collar, hating the feel of it. He was following the rest of the team, searching for clues among the crates in the holding bay, when the howl ripped the air. He froze. The rest did as well. "Damn," Tony swore quietly. His face was white.

"What the hell…" murmured Gibbs. Ziva stayed quiet. Tim remained a statue, and then sniffed the air experimentally. A foreign wolf's spore greeted his senses, and he could tell that it was a fellow were. A were that had let the wolf take over completely. Dear God…

Another hot flash, but this one was searing. He felt as if his insides sizzling, twisting, and generally committing mutiny. He doubled over, gripping a nearby rail to support him.

"McGee?" Ziva's voice was close, to close. She needed to back off. He growled to scare her off. It did the opposite. All three of his companions advanced. He wrenched himself away from them. Didn't they understand? He could hurt them; they needed to stay away from him! SNAP! He regarded the twisted bit of steel in his hand with horror. He looked up, scared at what he would see. Gibbs's face was blank, except for his widened eyes. Tony was openly staring, jaw somewhere around his ankles. Ziva regarded him with renewed interest. Another hot flash, even more intense than the last, ripped through him. The transformation was close. He had to get away! He dropped the damned rail and ran like a man possessed.

He could hear his team scrambling behind him, calling his name and struggling to keep up. Tim ran faster. After many twists and turns he finally lost them. He sank to the ground, breathing heavily. Finally. He was alone. They were safe. One last heat wave exploded in his body, and he let out a scream of pain. Only it wasn't a scream. It was a howl.

Tim the wolf shook off the remainder of his tattered clothing, and limped away. His team would find the clothes. He had another werewolf to hunt down.

The limp faded away as Tim stalked the other wolf. The scent trail wound all over the ship. He would howl from time to time, daring the other to howl back. He did every time. Tim continued to play this demented game of Marko Polo with the murderer, until he started not to answer back. This worried Tim. This meant he was stalking his team. Tim could hurt his friends, but the other wolf would kill them. Tim went faster.

Finally, he came upon the sight of a large black werewolf lunging for Tony's neck. Tim launched himself at the murderer. No one hurt his pack! No one! This vicious protectiveness fueled his attack. He managed to get a hold of the black one's back leg, and he bit down with every bit of strength he had. His adversary let out a pained howl. On the inside, Tim smirked. He wasn't called Timothy "Iron-Jaws" McGee for nothing. Then, out of nowhere, a black foot crashed into the side of his head. The black one got loose and ran off.

Tim lay down heavily, resting his pounding head on his forelegs. Suddenly he could feel every scratch and bruise the other wolf had inflicted. He noticed that Tony and Gibbs kept their guns trained on him. Good, he might not hurt them this way. Ziva crept closer, though. That was dangerous, but Ziva always did like living on the edge.

"Ziva! What the hell are you doing?" he heard Tony stage whisper.

"I'm going to see if the one who saved your ass is alright," she replied. Tim wanted to laugh. That was his Ziva. Wait a minute! His Ziva? "Hello, Wolf. May I come closer?" Ziva crooned to him. Well, he thought, if you put it that way. He wagged his tail. Ever so slowly, Ziva placed her hand on his head. He heard Tony and Gibbs catch their breath. He wagged his tail harder, trying to reassure them. He started panting; it was getting hot in the stairwell they were at. He whined. Could they move?

The demon growled from somewhere in the depths of the ship, and Tim sprang in front of Ziva and growled back, defending her. Silence.

Gibbs cautiously approached him and Ziva. Tim leaned into his boss's friendly pat. Tony came next, murmuring praises as if he were talking to a faithful lapdog. He considered being offended by the senior field agent's tone, but, hey, it was still praise from Tony.

"Come on, let's go check on Ducky," Gibbs said tiredly after a moment. The other two nodded and followed him. Tim hauled his considerable larger body off the floor and followed. The Demon Wolf wouldn't get to his pack with him around.

"Ducky! You alright?" Gibbs called into the seemingly deserted lab.

"Fine, Jethro. I'm just running some tests. My, my, who do we have here?" Ducky called from the corner of the lab. His eyes had gone wide at the sight of the team's new companion. Tim regarded him with amusement. Not much shocked Ducky, and that he had managed it was a major achievement. "Say, where's Timothy?" Ducky sounded very concerned. Tim winced. He hated making people worry.

"El Diablo got him," Tony said morosely. He was smacked on the back of the head. Hard. "He was in pain, and grabbed a metal railing for support. When we came closer to see what we could do, he wrenched away from us and took the railing with him. He was so strong, Ducky! No one has enough strength to snap steal! And he did it without thinking. Then he got scared and ran off. We couldn't keep up with him. Later, we found his clothes all ripped up along with his gun and badge. At least there was no blood…" he continued. Tim hid his head under his paws.

Ducky was very worried, to say the least. "What caused the pain, do you know?"

"No. He just doubled over right after we first heard the howling," Ziva explained.

Ducky nodded, frowning. Then he beckoned Gibbs over and started examining the minor injuries he had sustained since he had seen him last. "Tell me what all that growling and snarling was earlier."

Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva told Ducky how Tim had saved their lives from "El Diablo", as Tony had taken to calling the black wolf. As they did this, Ducky tended to Tony and Ziva after Gibbs.

"If that demon," she spat the noun, "has a name, then our friend here must have a name also." Ziva was quite adamant about it. She thought hard. Tim paled under his fur. If she gave him some fluffy pet name, he might go throw himself overboard. "I got it!" she announced. "He will be called Adir. It means great, mighty, and powerful." Tim perked his ears. That was a good name, he liked it. He could always refer to his wolf side as Adir now.

Ducky regarded Adir, who was had decided to stretch out on the floor between him and Ziva. He knelt down beside him and ran his hands through his thick coat, looking for injuries. He found plenty. "A good name, indeed, a very good name," he murmured. Adir was glad that Ducky approved. He gave an audible sigh as his wounds were tended to. He could focus better now.