There are almost 7.5 billion people in the world. Of these, only 0.75% have the 'enhancement gene,' allowing them to possess unique, incredible abilities. They are strong, they are powerful, but they are ALSO still human. They bleed the same way, they feel the same way, and they can die the same way, including being murdered.

It is the job of the NCIS (National Crime (and) Intragenic Specialists) to solve cases both involving and against these people...

A serial killer targeting those with the gene is on the loose in DC. Is it a bigoted mad man (or woman) or someone far more sinister?

...

AN: This is a wip and I'm writing as I go, so updates may be a little sporadic. Also, despite the focus of a young McGee in this chapter the story will be team-focused with a Tibbs pairing.

Chapter One: Timothy's Enhancement

1989

Timothy McGee was ten when it happened. Now, granted, it WAS always expected of him; it was in his genes after all, it was just never meant to happen in this particular way.

Tim was playing outside his home in Alameda, California with a soccer ball. This was a rare occurrence for a boy who usually spent most of his time in front of a computer screen. However his mother, Linda McGee, was the sort of person who believed that it was unhealthy for a young boy to be stuck indoors all day, so she had pushed him out the door with instruction that he spend at least an hour outside.

Tim kicked the ball against the wall of a neighbouring home for about twenty minutes when a particularly hard punt rebounded the ball off the wall and into the street. Despite the fact that the boy knew about road safety, he ran out into the street after it and didn't see the dark blue 1987 Camaro heading towards him.

It was the screech of tyres that finally caused Tim's head to turn. As his eyes locked with the stunned driver, Tim screwed his shut and one thought raced like a locomotive through his mind:

Oh God I wish I was back on the sidewalk!

He braced himself for the impact, for the pain.

But it never came. The only thing that came was a brief moment, a second, where the world around him seemed to stop. It was like someone had pressed the pause button on his VHS machine.

Time passed. It could have been seconds or minutes Tim wasn't sure, but eventually he opened his eyes.

He was back on the sidewalk.

The boy patted himself down and looked around in frantic bewilderment.

What had happened?

The driver of the Camaro, a silver-haired man in his sixties, brought his car to a sudden halt.

He rolled the window down and stared at the boy on the concrete. He didn't ask if Tim was OK, he didn't ask if Tim needed help.

No, the driver said just four words:

"You're one of them."

Then he rolled the window back up and sped off.

Frightened and confused, Tim picked himself back up and raced into the house, his soccer ball forgotten about.

He found his mother in the kitchen and rushed up to her, tugging on the hem of her skirt.

"Timothy!" Linda scolded, "I told you that you had to stay outside for at least an hour, what are you doing indoors again?"

Tim's bottom lip wobbled and he buried his face in his mother's side.

Finally realising that her son was upset about something, Linda gently ruffled the boys hair and pushed Tim away from her before kneeling down so they were almost face to face.

"What on Earth's the matter, Tim?"

The boy sniffled and raised his head. "I was playing outside with my ball...and...and it went into the road, and I went after it and...and.. a car came. I didn't see it."

Linda's eyes widened in motherly anxiety. "Are you OK? Did the car hit you?"

Tim shook his head and sniffed. "No, I...I closed my eyes and...and...when I opened them again I was back on the sidewalk."

"What do you mean you were 'back on the sidewalk,' Tim? Did someone push you out of the way?"

Tim shook his head. "No, the man in the car stopped and said to me, "you're one of them," and then he drove off."

A strange feeling began to make it's way along the bottom of Linda's stomach. She pulled her son into a tight hug, caressing the back of his head with her hand.

"Timmy," she whispered, "did anything happen before you found yourself back on the sidewalk?"

Her son's voice was muffled from where he had his face buried in the crook of her neck. "No – well – I remember wishing that...that...I was back on the sidewalk and when I opened my eyes I was."

Taking a deep breath, Linda stood up and released her son from the hug. She walked over to their dining table and pulled out one of the chairs, turning it so that it was facing Tim.

"Son, I want you to do something for me, ok? It might be a little scary but I promise you that nothing bad will happen."

"What do I have to do?" Tim asked as he chewed anxiously on his bottom lip.

"I need you to close your eyes and imagine that you're sat in this chair. Picture it in your head, can you do that for me?"

Despite his confusion at the request Tim nodded. He closed his and pictured himself sat in the chair opposite him.

Like before, when he had miraculously escaped from the car, Tim felt the entire world stop for a brief second. There was no sound, no movement, nothing. The sensation lasted as long as it took him to blink, and then he opened his eyes again.

He was sat in the chair.

Tim's eyes darted around the room and he began gasping for breath. Seeing his panic Linda rushed forward and grabbed her son in another tight embrace, shushing him as she did so.

"It's ok Timmy," she reassured her son. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I promise you, this is a good thing."

"What's happening to me, Mom?"

Linda smiled at him and kissed her son lightly on the forehead. "It looks like your enhancement gene has activated."

Tim's eyes widened. "It has? Like Dad's did when he was little?"

"That's right, Timothy, my brave boy is becoming more like his father every day."

Linda stood up and took her son by the hand, leading him into the living room. She told him to sit on the sofa and then picked up the phone, dialling the number for the doctor's office.

It rang for approximately thirty-seconds before a female voice answered.

"Alameda Enhancement Facility, Katie Watson speaking, how may I help?"

"This is Linda McGee, I am ringing to request an appointment to see Dr. Francis Monroe; It's about my son."

"What is the nature of the appointment, Ma'am?"

"My son's enhancement gene has activated and I'm ringing to book the mandatory blood test."

"Very well Ma'am, let me check the appointment book."

There was a pause and the sound of rustling pages could be heard before Katie came back on the line.

"Thank you for holding, I am able to schedule you in for an appointment at 2.30pm this Thursday, would that be satisfactory?"

"That would be perfect, thank you."

"You're welcome, Ma'am."

Hanging up, Linda turned to find Tim standing behind her.

"Why do I have to have a blood test?" he asked.

"When a person's enhancement gene activates, they're required to get a blood test and a physical just to make sure that everything's ok."

"Did you have to have one?"

Linda shook her head. "I don't have the gene, sweetie."

"How come?"

"Not everyone has it, you know that. I don't have it, neither does your sister, but you and your father do. It's just something that happens."

There was a short silence as Tim rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. "Do you think that Dad will be proud of my enhancement?" he whispered.

Linda gently tilted her son's chin up so that he was looking into her eyes. "You're Dad will think it's a wonderful thing, and if he doesn't you just need to remember that I think it's a wonderful thing. Grandma Penny will think so as well."

"She will?"

"Of course she will and don't worry about your father, I'll talk to him."

Tim nodded in agreement before asking, "does Sarah have the gene?"

"No, she doesn't," Linda replied, "and I don't want you teasing her about it, understand?"

"I won't, Mom." Tim paused; he seemed to be thinking about something.

"What is it, Tim?" Linda asked.

"I was just wondering...would I be able to use my...my enhancement to help people?"

"Timothy, as long as you're careful, you can use it in any way you wish. You're a very intelligent little boy and I believe that you can do whatever you put your mind to."

"Thanks Mom. Hey, how come that man in the car said to me, "you're one of them?" He sounded pretty upset and angry."

Linda sighed. "Sometimes there are people in this world, Timothy, who are...frightened by things they don't understand or consider different. In some people that fright can manifest as anger towards others."

"What does that have to do with my enhancement?" Tim wanted to know.

"Because some people – bigoted people – believe that those who have this gene are...different – dangerous - because of their abilities and the potential they can have."

"But...being able to teleport doesn't make me dangerous, does it?"

"No, it doesn't, as long as you remember that despite the gift you've been given you are still human, just as much as I, Sarah, and Grandma Penny are. Don't let this ability go to your head as you grow up, ok?"

"Ok."

"Good boy. Now, go upstairs and wash up for dinner. We'll get takeaway tonight as a treat since Sarah's at a sleepover."

"Thanks Mom!" Tim grabbed his parent in a hug before racing out the room and up the stairs.

Linda listened to him leave, debating whether she should tell him that he no longer had to use the stairs, but she ultimately decided against it.

Give the boy a chance to get use to it first.