A/N: Yes, I'm back to my favorite character again. This is a three chapter story written for the NFA Making of McGee Challenge. Why did Tim choose to become an NCIS Special Agent? We know from way back in Witness in season 2 that it was something he had "always wanted". Why? When was this desire created? This is my interpretation, using my personal fanon...and a slightly different writing style.

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to DPB. OCs are mine. I'm not making money off any of them, but I'd like the credit if you like the OCs. :)

Finding a Way
by Enthusiastic Fish

Chapter 1

A figure slumped over in a chair. The brakes are locked.

Click. Whrrrrrr.

Beep!

Click. Whrrrrr.

Beep!

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim didn't like it when his Grandpa McGee came over for a visit. Grandma? She was great, just like any grandma...but Grandpa? He loved his dad's father, but "the conversation" always happened and had ever since Tim had first revealed his nerdiness (he had balanced his dad's checkbook, adding up all the numbers in his head). Sam and Naomi might call it genius but to his grandfather, being devoted to school was nothing less than shameful in a McGee, particularly in the eldest (and only) son whose duty was to carry on the family name and uphold the family honor. Finding out that his eldest grandson was subject to seasickness was nothing short of a travesty and he would do his best to "cure" his grandson of this psychological weakness every time he came.

Sam was proud of Tim's abilities, but it took a while after he'd left the Navy to put aside his hope of Tim following in his footsteps. However, he couldn't deny that the year he'd been retired and working on his degree had improved his relationship with Tim immensely. He was actually getting to know his son and he found that he cherished the opportunity, glad that he hadn't missed out on it.

"Dad, you done yet?" Tim asked as he did every day at five p.m.

Sam looked up and smiled. He'd been working on his dissertation all day as usual.

"For the day...but you won't have time to read it. Your grandpa and grandma are coming."

"Which ones?"

"My parents." Sam didn't miss the shadow. "He does love you, Tim."

"Yeah, I know." Tim turned away.

"He'll realize that you're special, Tim."

"No, he won't. He'll never be anything but disappointed, Dad. We both know it. Grandpa wanted a tough guy for a grandson. What he got was a nerd. I can't even keep the bullies from beating me up at school."

Sam grabbed his son by the arm. "Tim, you're tougher than you think you are. I'm not disappointed."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Click. Whrrrrrr.

Beep!

Click. Whrrrrr.

Beep!

The figure stirred but didn't wake from his doze.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You're not?"

Sam shook his head and smiled. "No. Never."

"You were. Before we came here, before you left the Navy, you were."

Sam winced inwardly. One of the many things he had discovered about Tim (when he'd finally taken the time to do it) was how astute he was when he pulled his mind from the world of academics and looked at the world around him.

"I just didn't know you enough, Tim. I wasn't really looking."

"Why not?"

"The same reason Grandpa hasn't. I was seeing the world as I thought it should be, not as it really was. I learned better. You taught me better."

Tim was ten years old, but the look he gave Sam might have come from someone much older.

"How can I make Grandpa see? I want him to be proud of me."

"We'll figure something out, Tim...but you be like Oliver North."

Tim finally smiled. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know who Oliver North is?"

Tim shook his head. "He sounds kind of familiar. Was he in the news?"

"Yeah. Well, you may not want to emulate him in everything. He was in the Navy. He's made some pretty hefty mistakes, things he's gone to trial for, things that I don't approve of at all..."

"Then, why should I be like him?"

Sam chuckled. "In this one thing. He said, 'I am here to accept responsibility for that which I did. I will not accept responsibility for that which I did not do.'"

"I don't know if that really fits, Dad."

"Maybe you're right. You have done nothing wrong. Your grandfather doesn't understand that yet, but he will. You just hold strong to who you are. He'll come around."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Click. Whrrrrr.

Beep!

Sam was startled out of his doze by a hand on his shoulder. He looked away from the hospital bed and met a pair of concerned blue eyes.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked.

Sam shook his head. "No one can say for sure yet. He was down for a long time, lost a lot of blood. That...that girl?"

Gibbs nodded. "He saved her life."

"Yeah. I knew he would."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Where's my boy genius?"

"Here, Grandma!" Tim ran down the sidewalk.

"Oh, and here I was thinking of my son," she said grinning mischievously. "I guess a little boy genius will have to do." She hugged him tightly. "How have you been, Tim?"

"Great!"

"That a new shiner I see?"

Tim looked up at his grandfather. He was tall, a bit bent now, but he had kept himself in as good physical shape as was possible for a man pushing eighty. The hand that gripped Tim's chin was strong.

"Still getting teased are you?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"You'll have to do better."

"I-I'll t-t-try, sir." Tim pulled back, took his grandmother's bag and ran into the house.

"You needn't treat him like it's his fault the bullies hurt him, Clifton."

"If they won't toughen him up, someone has to."

"He's ten years old! ...and he's your grandson. He could use more love and less 'toughening up'." She walked past him into the house.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Click. Whrrrrr.

Beep!

Click. Whrrrr.

Beep!

Sam reached out and took one limp hand, holding it gently in his own.

"Where's Naomi?" Gibbs asked softly.

"I told her to get some sleep. I'll stay with Tim for a while longer."

"Did they tell you what happened?"

"Only that Tim was trying to save a woman from being killed."

"Yes."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The front door slammed as Tim ran out of the house.

"Dad, what did you say to Tim?" Sam asked. He had caught only a glimpse of Tim's face...but that was enough. He had seen the tears.

"You're too easy on that boy, Sam. This ascension of the ivory tower has made you soft."

"No, it's opened my eyes, Dad. Tim isn't like you. He isn't like me. He's...he's special."

"Special," Clifton harrumphed. "Your son gets picked on by everyone. He's too small. He doesn't do any sports. He told me he's not going to be a soldier when he grows up! He said he wants to be a writer!"

"There is nothing wrong with that, Dad. And Tim is ten! Last year, he wanted to be an astronomer. Next year, it might be something else. He has time to figure out what he wants to do without being put down by you." Sam turned to follow Tim, knowing exactly where he would have gone.

"Didn't hurt you, did it?"

Sam stopped. "Dad, do you know whose words I loved reading the most?"

"What?"

"I read everything I could about him. Mom gave me his biography for my birthday."

Clifton looked blank.

"I don't mind that you don't know, Dad. I know you love me, but I want the chance to know what interests my son. I'm not going to force him into something he doesn't want." Then, he turned and walked out of the house.

He jogged down the sidewalk toward the park. The bigger kids wouldn't be there right now and that meant that Tim could swing without being tormented for it. Sure enough, he was there, although not swinging.

"Hey, Tim."

"He hates me, Dad. Grandpa hates me."

"No, he doesn't. There is nothing wrong with you."

"Grandpa says there is. He said that I'm not going to be a real man if I don't..."

"Tim, your grandfather is wrong."

"But he's your dad!"

Sam sat down on the swing beside Tim. "Yes, and my father makes mistakes just like everyone else."

Tim sniffed and looked down. "He said that tears are a sign of weakness."

"There's nothing wrong with tears."

"I like school. Why doesn't he like that?"

"Tim, who am I writing my dissertation on?"

"Lots of people."

"But there's someone I'm focusing on."

"Winston Churchill."

"Exactly. Do you remember who he is?"

"Sure. He was in charge of England during World War II. He said funny things."

"Yes. One thing he said was, 'Personally, I am always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught.' Even the great wartime leader was ready to learn. You love to learn, Tim. That's a strength, not a weakness."

"Why do you always quote things now? You didn't used to."

Sam smiled. "I think I've found my true calling, Tim."

"What's that?"

"To make sure that the wonderful words spoken by people in history are not forgotten."

"But you told me that Emerson hated quotations."

"What did Emerson know?"

"Quite a bit, didn't he?"

Sam pulled the chain of the swing so that Tim was close enough for him to put his arm around his shoulders. "Let me tell you, Tim. There's a reason I love Winston Churchill so much. I found one of his quotations and it meant something to me."

"What was it?"

"'It is a good thing for an uneducated man to read books of quotations. Bartlett's Familiar Quotations is an admirable work, and I studied it intently. The quotations when engraved upon the memory give you good thoughts. They also make you anxious to read the authors and look for more.' If Churchill can think that, who am I to argue? I will try to sink these quotations into my students' heads and make them want more. If I can do that, I'll be happy. It wasn't what I wanted before, but now...now, it is."

"I thought you always wanted to be in the Navy. You never acted like you wanted to leave, not even when you had to leave."

"I didn't, but since then, I've seen what I really want. That's what you need to do, Tim. Find what you want. Don't listen to Grandpa if he tries to tell you that what you want isn't good enough. He'll come around eventually."

"I just want him to be proud of me...like he's proud of you."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Click. Whrrrr.

Beep!

"Who was she?" Sam asked, looking back at his son, lying so quietly, the only noise was that emanating from the machines keeping him alive.

"A witness. An unwilling accomplice to murder who got in too deep and tried to pull out before she...drowned."

Sam swallowed at the metaphor. Tim's wounds couldn't be seen. They were either swathed in bandages, hidden beneath the blankets...or internal.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You know, Sam, Tim has to be way above grade level in all his subjects."

Sam smiled. "I know, Mom. The teachers sometimes have to scramble to find things for him to do."

"He's in the GT program at school and his teacher has had him help some of the slower kids in finishing their work. It gives him something to look forward to."

"Have you thought about bumping him up a grade or two? He could easily do the work."

Sam and Naomi exchanged glances.

"We've...thought about it," Sam allowed.

"But you don't want to?"

Naomi sighed. "Tim has such a hard time relating with kids his own age. Putting him further along seems like a bad idea right now."

"You know...not all teachers will be as accomodating as his teacher has been this year."

"I know, but we can help him move along."

"Actually, Mom, we've been considering moving him up when I finish my Ph.D. and move wherever I get a job. His age difference would be less obvious if he wasn't already in a group."

"But he'd also be dealing with being new and being smart."

"Mo-om! Sarah's getting into my books again! I can't get her to leave me alone!"

Naomi laughed and stood up. "Excuse me for a moment while I keep my son from killing his sister."

She walked out and Sam looked at his mother.

"Mom, will Dad ever let up on Tim?"

She sighed. "I wish he would. That's a special little boy you have there. But Cliff was so disappointed when you were discharged."

"Well, so was I, if it comes to that...but does he do the same thing to Jim's kids or Marilyn's?"

"No, but you're the oldest, Sam. Tim is the oldest grandson. It's the McGee tradition and as distasteful as you find it, it's what he expects. Your father doesn't like to change."

"I'm not going to force Tim into the Navy just to uphold the family tradition."

"Nor should you. Tim isn't meant for the Navy. He's not that kind of boy. He's probably going to end up an academic like you."

Sam chuckled, thinking of the long and twisted road he'd followed to academia. "I'm not so sure, Mom. Tim's different...always has been. I still remember what his first word was. Not Dad or Mom like most kids. He said, 'Look!' and tried to show me something he'd found. I think Tim's going to surprise us all. ...but he's so sensitive and he knows that Dad is disappointed in him."

"He'll have to find his own way...and he will. Right now, you just let him be a kid. That's more important."