DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NCIS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS

Not So McPerfect: A Little Sister's Story

Timothy McGee, NCIS special agent and computer genius would never be described as a tough guy. His partner and senior agent, Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. had on more than one occasion referred to him as McGeek. The jibe was taken in stride, along with all the other McMonikers he threw his way.

For years he was the butt of jokes, the target for school bullies. Moving often following his father's naval career not only city to city, but country to country. No matter where they took up residence there was always someone who took notice of his pristine appearance: well pressed button shirts, pants with the perfect crease down the leg and his hair always neatly combed and styled. Even during his high school days his mom would inspect to make sure he met up to her standards.

'No child of mine will leave this house without being a proper reflection upon me. You don't just represent yourself out there. When people see you they see your father and me too.' That was a speech nearly every day.

Sure, but his parents never had to hear what his classmates had to think about it. Not that he didn't want to be neat. He found he felt proud, that despite the teasing, he did make his parents proud.

He just wished his younger sister, Sarah could feel the same way.

Sarah McGee was a dozen years younger than he was. She fought daily to have her own 'look'. The arguments would only last a few minutes, before their parents claimed victory, often with a puffy red-eyed little girl, none the happier to pass inspection. He tried to reason with her. Once he even tried to take her side.

He was home for spring break from MIT during his junior year. Sarah was running out to play with a friend; her naturally curly hair askew and her jeans sporting a rip in the knee.

"Sarah McGee, just where do you think you're going in that state?" their mother humphed.

"Out to play with Janie," Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Come here," their mom ordered.

"Mom," she whined exasperated seeing the comb she was wielding.

As the struggle to tame the curls began, Tim shrugged. "I don't see why you can't let her go, Mom. After all with all the running she'll be doing, it'll be messy again in ten minutes."

The glare their mother cast his way put an end to any further negotiating. He looked at his sister with pity. She pouted and endured the torture on her head.

When their mother was finished to her satisfaction she ordered Sarah to change her jeans.

"But mom…" Sarah started.

"Now Miss or you won't be going anywhere. Bring me those rags when you're done."

Sarah stomped off to do as she was told. Tim desperately tried to hide his smile when she returned wearing her best Sunday dress. Seeing their mother smile in appreciation of her daughter looking her finest, he wondered if she even thought about the condition the dress would be in when Sarah come in from playing.

It was obvious she didn't when she gave Sarah a peck on the cheek, "You look perfect. Go have some fun."

"You do realize she'll be climbing trees in that dress?" Tim tried to prepare his mother for the disaster ahead.

"She wouldn't dear," she said aghast.

Tim could only shake his head. He was in his room studying when the screaming started.

Sarah made a grand entrance, leaves in her hair, dirt covered head to toe, and her once beautiful yellow dress had torn ribbons and a tear down the left side where she'd gotten snagged on a branch.

"What have you don't to yourself?" he heard their mother yell.

"Just playing," Sarah replied nonchalantly.

"But your pretty dress?" Mrs. McGee nearly sobbed running her hands over the tattered remains. "Your hair?" she did cry removing a few of the leaves with her fingertips.

"You march right up and take a shower," anger taking precedent of her emotions. "I don't want to see you again, until you've returned to the condition I sent you out in."

Sarah shrugged and headed for the stairs. As she reached the hallway, Tim peeked out his bedroom door and saw the triumphant smile she was wearing.

"Hey, brat," he called to her.

She scrunched up her nose, but turned to walk into his room.

"Do you really think it's wise to torment mom like this?" he indicated her state of filth.

"Oh Tim! You're not here all the time. She never lets up. I want to dress to have fun, not like I'm going to a tea party. You shoulda seen Janie's face when I showed up in this. It was awful and she's my best friend."

Tim put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes, "I know how it is Sar. She was the same way with me."

Her jaw dropped, "I always thought you liked to dress so fancy."

"Well I like looking good," Tim admitted, "but I still had to pass inspections every day."

Sarah rolled her eyes again, "I don't like to dress nice all the time. The other kids tease me," she hung her head.

"I had my share of that too," Tim tried to not dwell on those memories. "We moved more often than too, so there was always a fresh batch of kids to pick on me. At least here there's the handful that will always be bullies, but the others will get used to it and leave you be."

Sarah gazed up at her brother realizing he did have it worse than she did, "How did you stand it?"

"For the most part I ignored it. I didn't much care for how they looked. I was just brought up to keep my opinions to myself and respect other people. I also figured it felt better to have mom and dad proud of me, than how I'd feel trying to fit in with the rest of them."

"But I want to fit in," Sarah pled.

"I have a feeling Sarah that those who accept you do so for who you are, not your clothes. Being petulant and disrespectful may make you popular with a crowd you won't find too much happiness being a part of," he advised her.

Sarah didn't agree with him, but nodded anyway. She was feeling uncomfortable with all the dirt making her start to itch.

Noticing her discomfort he turned her around, "Go clean up, brat."

She scowled over her shoulder, "Yes, Mr. Bossy."

Tim smiled after her and returned to his books.