A/N: This is an AU story. The bulk of it is set around season 3 and 4, but it begins with the premise of Tim not joining NCIS. This was undertaken by request...and it's been two years that I've been working on it. It is Tim centered, but the rest of the team are in it quite prominently as well.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or the characters. I'm not making money off this story, but I did my best to fit it into canon...albeit with a twist.

Stay Inside the Lines
by Enthusiastic Fish

They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side

I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you got to rise above

– "No Such Thing" by John Mayer

Chapter 1

"Do you mean it, Mr. Larsen?" Tim asked.

"Tim, your abilities are so far beyond what I can do with computers that, if you didn't have another year left before you graduated, you could probably get admitted to MIT."

Tim sat back in his chair and stared at his computer teacher in shock. When Mr. Larsen had told him to stay after class today, he had assumed that he'd done something wrong...or that Mr. Larsen was going to try and probe about the bullying that had only got worse after his parents had accelerated him. Graduating at sixteen didn't make him a genius, but it didn't help rid him of the stereotype or the attention of the bullies. ...but it hadn't been either of his fears.

"What does that mean?" Tim asked. "I mean...for me. What does it mean?"

"It means that you should make sure you keep all your grades up because you'll want to get a scholarship. With my recommendation and your certifications in A+, DHTI+, and being able to work with both hardware and software...and this burgeoning Internet stuff that you seem to love...you'll be a shoe-in if that's what you want to do."

"It sounds wonderful. I can't wait to tell my parents!"

Mr. Larsen smiled. "If they have any questions, tell them to contact me. I'll be more than happy to explain everything to them."

Tim jumped to his feet. "Okay! Okay, I will. Thanks, Mr. Larsen!"

He was nearly bursting all the way home. Staying after school had saved him from the usually-inevitable torment, and he had received the best news he'd had since being allowed to take his first computer class...since being told that they'd be staying in this area until he graduated so that he'd be able to be in the same school for more than a couple of years in a row. How could this day get any better?

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

"What are you saying?" his mother asked.

"That I could go to MIT," Tim said excitedly.

He was so excited that he failed to notice his parents' lack of excitement. His dad was home early for once and he was so excited to explain it that he talked a lot more and a lot faster than he ever had probably in his entire life.

"Mr. Larsen said that I could even get a scholarship, that they'd be really excited to have me! All this computer stuff that I've been doing...it could really do things for me!"

There was a silence and it finally dawned on Tim that his parents weren't smiling.

"Aren't you happy?" he asked.

"It's very nice of Mr. Larsen, Tim," his mother said.

"But?"

His mother looked at his father and Tim noticed that his dad was far from happy.

"You're not going to MIT, Tim," he said.

"What do you mean? It's not like we'd have to pay for it if I got a scholarship."

"It's not the money, Tim," his mom said gently.

His father was not so gentle.

"You've known since you were a lot younger that you're going into the Navy, Tim."

"Dad, I don't want to join the Navy!" he said loudly...and then swallowed worriedly. He'd never actually come out a said that, although he would have thought that his parents would have noticed his lack of enthusiasm.

"You have a tradition to uphold, Tim. This computer stuff you've been doing is all well and good. It will look better to Naval Academy," his dad said.

"You can keep on with it there, Tim," his mom said.

"I don't want to be in the Navy!" Tim said again. "Dad, you know I get seasick! It doesn't matter the size of the boat!"

"It's all in your head, Tim," he dad said sternly. "Once you're out there..."

"No! Dad, it doesn't work like that! I know it's what you want! I know it's what everyone has planned for me, but this...this MIT is what I want! Doesn't that matter?"

"You can choose your Navy school, Tim. You can keep on with this stuff you do on the computer, but you're joining the Navy. You'll be graduating early, but you can be admitted to the Naval Academy as soon as you turn seventeen. This is a family tradition, Tim. My father was an admiral. His father was an officer in the Navy, too. You will carry on the tradition. The McGees serve their country."

"Why do I have to serve the country the way you think I should? You had to give up whatever you wanted to do and so I have to do the same?" Tim asked. Then, he looked down. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Tim, we're not telling you that you have to give up on computer work," his mother said quickly, before his father could do more than bristle. "For all we know, this may be a wonderful opportunity for you to get even further. You can keep on with it in the Navy."

Tim could tell that there was no hope at this point of convincing them that what he wanted was best. He sighed.

"I have homework," he said softly.

"Dinner will be in about an hour."

"Okay."

Tim hurried upstairs and went into his room. He had lied. He didn't have homework. He'd finished it all before.

Why doesn't what I want matter? Why do I have to do what everyone else has done?

He turned on his computer and started writing another program. He had started it the day before just to see if he could. The certifications he had weren't enough to slake his desire to know more. He just had more and more that he wanted to do. It didn't matter how many times he'd said it. His dad would never accept that he got seasick, that it had nothing to do with Tim wanting to be that way. He just was.

There was a soft knock on his door.

"Timmy?"

"What, Sarah?" he asked glumly.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

The door opened.

"You and Mom and Dad were fighting."

"Yeah."

"Why don't you like the Navy?" she asked, sitting on his bed.

Tim turned toward her.

"I don't hate the Navy. I just don't want to be a part of it. I want to do what I want to do, and they just don't care about it."

Sarah furrowed her brow. "Why do they tell you that but not me?"

"Because I'm a guy."

Sarah walked over and hugged him.

"Maybe you'll like it."

"I doubt it...unless I learn to like feeling like I'm going to throw up."

"Alma told me that dogs eat their puke," she said and grinned.

"Gross! That's disgusting, Sarah," Tim said, sticking his tongue out at her.

"But it's true, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I'm not a dog."

Sarah laughed and Tim felt his mood lift a little. Maybe he could think of something, some way to get out of this trap that seemed to be ready to snap around him. He didn't want the Navy. He had never wanted the Navy and he never would. It had taken his father away from him when he was little. It had made his dad blind to what his son wanted. Why would Tim want to join something that made someone like that? He'd figure something out.

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

One year later...

Tim took a deep breath. This could go wrong in a lot of ways, but he was ready. Nothing had changed. His application had been sent in. He'd been forced to tell Mr. Larsen that he wasn't going to try for MIT. His dad had started taking him out on ships every weekend just to "help" him get over his seasickness. In short, his ability to choose what he wanted from his life was about to end. This would do it.

He figured he'd thought of everything. After his car accident, he had spent a long time just thinking about how to do this and everything that might not work right, everything that could work right. He was still a minor. He wouldn't hurt anything. It would be illegal, yes, and that would stop the Navy from wanting him. ...but it wouldn't cause any damage. He didn't want to do anything really wrong...just wrong enough.

Satisfied that he'd never have a better chance than now while his parents were gone and Sarah was sleeping over at a friend's house, Tim got online and headed for ARPA. He had routed out just what it would take to get there, and how he could do it from his home. Normally, the connection he could get to the so-called information superhighway wouldn't be enough, but he'd played around with that, too. His parents had agreed to let him get access to the Internet as a sop after deciding to destroy his life, and he was going to use it to save himself.

The Department of Defense's research arm, the Advanced Research Projects Agency, had loads of interesting things going on...lots of it classified because it was military-related research. Today, that wasn't going to stop him. Choosing ARPA was mostly because of everything he'd read about the Internet. ARPANET was the first to come. It had only been fully decommissioned in 1991, and it seemed fitting to use ARPA to help him out. Its legacy had shown him so much already.

"Okay, Tim. Here we go."

He started typing. At first, he wasn't sure where to go once he got in, but he saw some space technology projects and headed for them. Once he was inside, he decided to look around a little bit before making some noise and getting out. This stuff looked really interesting.

After twenty minutes, he reluctantly pulled himself away from the fascinating information. He let his presence be known and he got out of the space technology and into some of the other military projects, some of the radar experiments, stealth fighters...until he saw that he was being traced.

"Time to get out, Tim," he said to himself and quickly got out. He couldn't let it be too obvious that he was trying to get caught.

Then, he turned off the computer and settled down to wait.

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

They were attending the celebration of the Navy's birthday. It was a common thing for the higher-ranking officers. The McGees never missed. A McGee of one generation or another was always in attendance at one of these functions.

But today ended up being very different.

"Admiral McGee...sir."

"Loren...honey," Joan whispered.

Loren looked at her and then at the ensign standing nervously in front of him.

"What is it, Ensign?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but you've been asked to speak with the Secretary of the Navy and some people from the Department of Defense."

"About what, Ensign?"

"I don't know, sir," he said but then leaned forward just a little. "It seems really serious. The DoD people weren't here before."

Loren looked at his wife. He'd only achieved the rank of rear admiral the month before. To have something serious like this could be a very bad thing.

"Joan, I'll be back."

"Okay." Joan nodded and forced herself to smile and then walk over to one of the groups who were chatting.

Loren walked alongside the ensign, wishing that he felt easy enough to make conversation. He didn't. He had been raised to be a Navy officer. It was his life and he really didn't know how to be anything else. It had been a long time since he'd been an ensign.

"Just in here, sir," the ensign said.

"Thank you, Ensign," Loren said and stepped into the room, keeping himself as calm as possible. He had no idea what to expect here, but he was glad not to come into it thinking things were going to be pleasant. He could deal with a stressful situation.

...or so he thought.

"Rear Admiral Loren McGee?"

"Yes, sir," he said, recognizing the Secretary of the Navy. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"Is this your son, Admiral McGee?" asked a man he didn't recognize.

The man stepped aside and to Loren's shock, Tim was brought forward...in handcuffs. He looked frightened.

"Hi, Dad," he whispered.

"Tim."

"This is your son?"

"Yes. What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry, Dad!" Tim said. "I didn't think! I thought that..." He trailed off.

"What's going on?" Loren asked again. "Why do you have my son in handcuffs?"

"Mr. Orlen here says that your son hacked ARPA tonight."

Loren's eyes widened and he looked at Tim, silently asking him if this was true. Tim's eyes dropped...which was an answer in and of itself. Tim wasn't a good liar. He generally chose to say nothing rather than lie about it.

"ARPA?"

"Yes. As you might guess, this is not the...behavior we'd expect from the son of a rear admiral of the Navy," Mr. Orlen said.

"Did you...do anything in there, Tim?"

"No! I just looked! Dad, I didn't think about how this would look for you! Really, I didn't! I promise!"

"I believe you, Tim. What's going to happen?"

"That's something we need to talk about. Now."

"Okay. Talk...but take off the cuffs. My son won't run."

For a moment, Orlen didn't move.

"You didn't hear me, I guess," Loren said. "Remove the handcuffs from my son's wrists."

"Very well."

The cuffs were removed and Tim sat down on a chair. Loren sat down beside his son.

"What is going to happen?"

"There are a couple of options. First, your son has hacked into secure military project files. He is a potential traitor. That means we can treat him as an adult. He'll go to juvenile detention for the next year if he's lucky and then to prison for the rest of his life. The second option..."

Loren's heart had plummeted to his shoes.

"...is that he start working for us."

Tim's head jerked up. "What?"

"Your son showed a skill that many of our trained employees don't have. If he starts working for us, he'll be read into classified material and there's no harm done."

"Those are the only two options?"

"There is court, of course. He wouldn't go to prison until convicted, but that won't look very good for anyone."

Tim's head dropped again.

"Mr. Secretary?" Loren asked, addressing the person who might be slightly sympathetic.

"Yes, Admiral McGee?"

"May I speak to my son, in private, please?"

"Of course," the SecNav said before Orlen could refuse.

The others left the room, leaving father and son alone.

"Tim...what were you thinking?" Loren asked, his fear making him angry.

Tim wouldn't look up.

"I can't tell you, Dad."

"Why not? Did someone make you?"

"No."

"Tim, please, tell me. This is really serious. This isn't a game. The DoD is over the entire armed forces of the United States! What were you thinking?"

"What's going to happen, Dad?" Tim asked, his eyes still staring at his hands.

"I don't know, Tim. I really don't know."

"I didn't know this would happen. I didn't think it would be so...serious."

"What did you think it would be?"

Tim shrugged.

"Tim, you can't just shrug here. This is..."

"I know! I know it's bad! Okay, Dad? I know! They came to the house and they put the handcuffs and that...that Mr. Orlen said that I was in a lot of trouble...and that...that if you were a part of it..." Tim looked up. "I should have done it somewhere else! I didn't think they would even consider the possibility of you being involved! I just..."

"What, Tim?"

For the first time since his son had been about eight years old, Tim's eyes filled with tears.

"I just wanted to...make it so that I didn't have to be in the Navy!" Tim started to cry and looked down at his lap.

If someone had let a grenade explode in his face, Loren couldn't have been any more shocked...and pained...by what his son had just said to him.

"They wouldn't...want me if I had done something bad. I was never going to do anything else. Just go in and let them see me there! I didn't...I didn't think that..."

Loren didn't know what to say. He had known that Tim wasn't looking forward to going, but he hadn't either when he was young and he'd ended up loving it.

"You hate me. I know."

That finally got him to speak.

"No...Tim...I don't know how to...feel about this...but I don't hate you. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know!"

"If you want to do the trial, we might be able to keep anything from happening to you."

"Maybe...but...but that would mean that everyone would hear about it. They want me to work for them. That wouldn't be prison. Maybe it would be good, Dad."

"Tim, are you saying that's what you want to do?"

To his surprise, Tim suddenly straightened up and looked him in the eye. It was the first time in years, only Loren had never realized it until now. How had he missed the number of times Tim had avoided meeting his eyes? How had he not realized that his only son had been so miserable...and that desperate?

"Dad...this was a choice I made. I thought I'd...I'd thought it through, but I didn't realize. I'm not going to drag our name through the mud because I was stupid. Working for DoD...it's not what I'd...wanted to do, but it's something, and maybe I'll enjoy it. Maybe this will be a good thing. So...I'm going to choose to...work for them...and see how it goes."

"Tim, if it doesn't go well...I don't know if I'll be able to do anything for you."

Tim gave a shaky smile.

"Dad, I didn't expect you to. I knew you'd find out about it and I figured you'd be upset. I didn't think you'd do anything else."

Loren hadn't hugged Tim, again, in years. He wasn't that kind of person. Tim had, in reaction, done the same. They probably hadn't had any physical contact since they had moved here. Now, in the face of what was coming, Loren couldn't let that continue. He stood up and Tim followed suit...and then, he hugged his son. Tim's arms didn't move at first but then, he hugged Loren back. After a few seconds, he pulled back and looked at Tim directly.

"Tim, you may not believe this, but I would do anything for you. If you wanted to fight it, I would be right beside you. We give ourselves to the Navy, but we never forget family."

"I'm not forgetting family, either."

"This is what you want? There's no going back once you say yes."

"Yes," Tim said.

"Okay. Then...we'll call them back in."

Tim nodded and started toward the door, but Loren caught his arm and stepped close to him.

"But if you need to get out, you say the word and I do what I can," Loren said softly.

He was rewarded by a slight brightening of Tim's eyes...not hope, but something that let Tim square his shoulders and face what was coming.

When the four men came back into the room, Tim spoke for himself.

"Mr. Orlen, I am accepting the consequences of what I chose to do. If DoD wants me to work for them, then I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Mr. Orlen asked.

"Positive. When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. Someone will come and pick you up."

"What?" Loren asked.

"This isn't on a delayed schedule just because he's younger than some. He will start being trained tomorrow."

"It's okay, Dad," Tim said, looking more and more confident as the reality of what was happening settled in. "Tomorrow, then. What time?"

"Someone will be there at eight...and they'll be watching your home to make sure that nothing...goes wrong."

"McGees don't break their word," Tim said, sounding much older than his seventeen years.

Loren knew that had been hammered into Tim just as it had been hammered into him. ...but he had never wanted to break his word more than at this moment. The only thing worse than this would be telling Joan.

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

The next morning, after a sleepless, tear-filled night, Tim left their home, with only a packed bag.

That first month, he spent only two weekends at home. The rest was spent in training with DoD personnel.

And that was only the beginning.