Tim gripped the steering wheel tightly, the faux leather becoming slippery from her sweating palms.

She glanced into the rear mirror. Since she had left her apartment she hadn't been able to stop checking on the large dog in her trunk every thirty seconds or so. She did not like having the animal behind her. It was true that she had bought a fitted 'gate' to fill the gap between the head of the backseats and the roof but she still felt insecure.

The dog – Jethro – was staring at her. Was it her imagination or had he started meeting her eyes in the mirror? Could dogs even do that?

He was a cute dog, sitting up and panting the way he was. Every time she turned a corner or came to a junction it was as though his legs stopped working. She had heard him topple over and seen him vanish from her mirror for a moment more than once.

If it wasn't for the itching scar along her shoulder and neck she would happily have kept him but there just happened to be the matter of the attack on their first meeting standing between them.

She turned into the base and rolled down her window to show her ID.

Hopefully her plan would work.

The man standing in front of her was not what she had expected. Not at all.

He had a mischievous glint about his eyes that made him look like he was more likely to tell a joke that pull a gun.

He smiled at her.

Tim was sure he smiled a lot. He had the lines around his mouth and eyes that showed her this.

He held out his hand to her and she took it out of habit. His skin was rough but warm. Pleasantly so.

"Agent McGee?" he queried.

He had a nice voice. Calm and deep. Perfect for putting a dog at ease and having it listen to instructions she would think. And people.

"Yes," she added a bit more energy to shaking his hand and then he released it, "Commander Grady, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's just Owen, this is off the books after all,"

Did he just wink at her?

Tim ignored it.

"Well, I'm Tim then," she smiled, unable to keep it from her face.

This man's mood was infectious.

She thought back over all of the various Navy personnel she had met through her job. There really was a difference to people's personalities when you weren't investigating a murder/stolen goods/missing intel…delete were applicable.

"So," the man – Owen – looked down at Jethro, where he was pressed against her side. The dog had been obstinately ignoring her attempt to shift him away from her, "This must be Jethro,"

She was tense, her knuckles turning white where they gripped the leash, her legs trembling a little where the dog touched her.

He was a lovely animal. She knew this. And he adored being close to her, but she couldn't help but hate Abby for the position she had placed her in. If the dog had been sent away and never come up again Tim probably wouldn't have given it much thought but as soon as Abby had gotten involved…

"Yeah, that's right," she forced herself to be calm.

Owen allowed the German Shepherd to smell his hand.

"A drug dog?"

She nodded her head, her nerves spiking at the sight of the man's tanned hand so close to Jethro's mouth where lots of teeth lived.

The dog shifted and whined and Owen looked at her, his eyes studying her.

"How did you come to own him?"

The question caught her by surprise and against her will her hand went up to her still bandaged neck.

"Umm…case related,"

Owen frowned at her, his eyes going to her hand and she lowered it. It was too late though. His attention was no firmly fixed on the white bandage.

"I think we need to have a discussion,"

"But I don't want him to be destroyed,"

The whole story had come pouring out her without her permission. This Owen Grady, she decided, was a dangerous man. He had gotten the story out her so easily. Or maybe she had just been desperate for someone to listen to her from an unbiased perspective.

"I know it wasn't his fault," she took a sip of her coffee, her hands were shaking a little. Just how many cups had she had? She couldn't remember and she couldn't see a clock to figure out how long she had been talking for. She had a feeling it had been quite a while but Owen showed no signs of being bored with her. He sat opposite her at the table, his own coffee cup steaming in front of him and just listened except when he prompted her with the occasional question.

"I know it was the drugs in his system," she shivered at the memory of how ill she had been from the small amount that had got into her bloodstream through the bite and didn't wonder why Jethro had been so vicious. She probably would have bitten people too if she thought she could get away with it.

"But he is a big dog and…I've never had a pet before you see and well…" Tim trailed off, running out of steam and looked at Owen.

The man was looking at her with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"So, you were attacked by this dog on the job?" he finally spoke, it came as a shock to hear a full sentence after so long a tome of just a few words at a time from his.

She nodded her head miserably.

"And your Forensic Scientist friend blamed you for shooting him in self-defence?"

Again she nodded her head.

"And bullied you into taking him in when she couldn't?"

"Well-" she began only for him to raise a hand to stop her.

"And your Forensic Scientist 'friend'," he repeated slowly, placing emphasis where she had missed it before, "bullied you into taking him in when she couldn't?"

Tim sighed and nodded her head.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I think you need another friend,"

Tim nearly gave herself whiplash when she looked up from where she had been studying her mug.

This stranger she had met no more than two hours ago looked angry…furious and it was all on her behalf. No one ever got mad for her. They got mad at her sure but this was a first. And if she was following him he was angry at Abby. That was another thing. No one EVER got mad at Abby. It was like Gibbs' rule zero.

"Tim, are you sure you want to keep this dog?" Owen leaned in closer to her, his eyes serious.

She thought it through for a moment, looking to the floor although she knew the dog wasn't there. Owen had had someone take him for a run.

Did she honestly want the dog?

Abby had guilt tripped her into it. Making her dread coming home for the last week – although the last day or so had been getting better.

She thought of the whine that would come from Jethro for the first hour or so when she would close her bedroom door against him at night. The way he would bound around like an oversized puppy the few times she had been home in time to take him for a decent walk. Despite not being keen on the idea she hadn't been able to resist buying him treats from the store either.

Her hand went to the bandages.

Did she want this dog?

"Yes," she whispered, she did.

Owen smiled broadly at her and hit the table with a decided thump.

"Alright then, we'll take things slowly,"

I HATE HATE HATED! Abby in the Dog Tags episode.

So…anyone recognise a certain someone's name. Yip, I have just thrown another fandom into the mix. ;)

Please let me know what you think.

Have a smashing day everyone.

:)