AN: I'd love to go to a shooting range. Shame I'll have to live vicariously through Tim. This chapter is Tim being sassy and G liking it.

G stumbled out of bed and into the shower, trying to wake up. She'd stayed up pretty late last night researching guns. Sure, she was great with handling firearms, that came naturally to her, but she had little clue about how they actually operated and she had no doubt Tim was a whiz-kid at that stuff. She'd practiced taking and putting her guns together as quickly as she could. Not that she was trying to impress him or anything…

G had also done a little research into snipers and was very stunned by what she saw. Sitting on targets for days at a time, taking shots from ludicrous distances, calculating for wind speed, humidity, bullet drop. Snipers were clearly a breed apart. She'd gone to bed slightly unnerved after she'd accidentally stumbled onto a page about what might happen to a sniper in the unfortunate incident that they were captured by the other side. Unfortunate didn't begin to cover it. She wondered if anything like that had happened to Tim out there and she resolved never to ask.

Feeling slightly more alive after the steaming water, G dressed in dark blue, ripped jeans, black leather boots and a long-sleeved, grey t-shirt. Grabbing her black leather jacket, she put some coffee on and grabbed a banana.

In her haste this morning, she'd forgotten to ask Tim how on earth he knew where she lived. Had she mentioned it to anyone? Only Rachel and Art. Had one of them told him? If he had found out so easily, could other people find out too? A small shiver ran down her spine and she cast the though aside, slowly chewing.

She sat down on the edge of her plush, brown leather sofa and looked out of the large window opposite, which spanned most of the room. She'd finally got round to filling the apartment. Luckily for her, the Bureau were willing to foot the majority of rent and some expenses so she could still keep her apartment in DC without being too stretched. Without being overly extravagant, G had invested in decent electronics, a good sound system and a luxurious king size bed. Figured she may as well be comfortable if she was staying for long. She had avoided decorating though. She didn't want to put her own stamp on this place, didn't want to make it too personal, had already decided she wasn't going to miss it when she left.

A knock at her door roused her from her thoughts. Tim was leaning casually against the doorframe, dressed in faded denims and a dark leather jacket. He was flicking his Raybans in his hands and tossed G a small smile that was really a smirk.

The leaning was Tim's thing. He leant on everything. G remembered the first time she'd met him, when she'd hoped he didn't lean on other people's desks. Well, he did. It had been annoying at first, but he did it with such elegance, there was something…weirdly sexy about it….

G snapped out of it and stepped back, allowing him access to the apartment. With a nonchalant 'there's coffee on the side' she disappeared into what he assumed was her bedroom. He pushed the door shut, poured himself a mug and wandered through an archway into an open plan lounge. Clearly she had a bit of money; this place was nice. He eyed the TV, complete with Blu-ray and surround sound. There was a cherry wood shelf next to the TV that reached the ceiling, piled high with an impressive collection of CDs and DVDs.

G wandered back through, securing her Glock into it's holster, her Beretta already tucked into the back of her jeans. She flashed him a genuine, if slightly guarded smile, implying she was ready.

'Nice place.' Tim eyed the TV again. His own was nice enough, but nowhere near brand new and he streamed a lot of stuff on the internet. Judging by her DVD collection, she did not.

'Thanks. How'd you find it?' G's tone was off hand. He was about to make a joke about tracking her down covertly, but when he met her eyes, he was surprised to see a little concern? She veiled it well.

'Rachel.' He saw some of the tension drain away and he smirked. 'Ready to get your ass kicked?'

The journey to the range was about half an hour. It was a fairly picturesque drive to a place called Winchester. They passed time easily, chatting about guns, joking about this and that. Tim was surprised at how nice the company was. G was spread out on the passenger seat like she'd been in his car a hundred times before. She was enjoying herself and this should have worried her. It wasn't doing much for keeping distance between her colleagues, but she was having a good time and she didn't want that to end.

They jumped out of Tim's truck, an immaculately clean, black Chevy Suburban at 9.10am.

'You're late.' G whipped around to see a giant lumbering towards them. This guy was maybe 6'5" and wearing light blue jeans with a dark blue denim jacket – standard fashion crime. Dark sunglasses shaded his eyes and a long, white ponytail poked out of a faded blue baseball cap. He looked just like one of the hicks from Harlan, complete with rifle clutched in his left hand. The only thing that redeemed him was a wide, friendly grin, indicating he knew Tim well.

'Surprised a heart attack hasn't claimed you yet, Randy.' Tim shot back, smirk curling on his lips. G thought it suited him, that smirk. Completed the persona of Tim Gutterson.

The man called Randy suddenly grabbed his chest with his right hand and dropped to his knees, gurgling dramatically. G didn't really know if laughing was appropriate, but it was funny. Tim definitely thought so and he pushed himself off from his leaning position on his truck to grab Randy's jacket and yank him up. The two exchanged some more jokes ending in a handshake, before Randy turned his attention to G, lifting his sunglasses and winking at her.

'Gutterson, I ain't never actually seen you with a pretty girl before.'

'Bullshit.' Tim countered, rolling his eyes. The two behaved like drinking buddies. G was sure Randy had seen Tim with plenty of girls.

'Girls, yes. Pretty being the operative word.' Randy fixed Tim a look of disdain, which Tim flung back, pouting a little, not expecting to be embarrassed in front of G.

Randy chuckled and stuck his hand out. G took it and he squeezed her hand firmly.

'Randy Sharpe. It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am.' Randy's wide smile was contagious and G grinned back, feeling slightly cruel that she'd judged him. He was perfectly delightful. She didn't think anyone had ever called her ma'am before…she kind of liked it.

'Pleasure's mine, Mr Sharpe.' Beside her, she could feel Tim rolling his eyes again. 'Keep doing that and your eyes will get stuck, Gutterson.' She tossed him a withering look and Randy guffawed.

'I like your girl, Tim, she's a keeper.' He thumped Tim on the back and the two went to collect Tim's impressive arsenal of guns from the back of his truck. Tim shoved a rifle into her hands as he brushed past her and began to follow Randy up the winding path from the parking lot to the range. No one corrected Randy that she was not, in fact, Tim's girlfriend.