I was really inspired to write this, but I don't know what it was that actually inspired me to write it. Maybe my sweet little angel muse.

Anyways, this is a two-shot and sort of fluffy. Enjoy! And please, please, please review! You will make my day! All you have to do is press one button! Press one button, and type a couple of words, and you not only make my day (or week), but you also become my hero, and I will love you forever! (As a friend) *Insert happy-face here*

DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS. That would be pretty awesome if I did!

Finally, finally, the two week hiatus was over. The puzzle had been solved, the girl had been rescued, and the bad guy had been caught. There was just one more loose end to tie up, then, for the first time in eleven days, Timothy McGee could go home.

So he stood outside of the conference room, and waited for the right moment to go in. Retired Commander Robert Diez had been killed by an extremist anti-military war group. His niece, who lived with him after her parents died, had been kidnapped by this same extremist group. But it was all over now. Finally it was over. McGee took a deep breath and walked into the conference room.

Cameron Diez was sixteen years old, and had long, dark brown hair, and dark eyes. She sat all alone at the conference table. She looked down, her eyes narrow.

"Cameron Diez?" McGee asked. "My name is Timothy McGee-"

"So where to this time?" Cameron asked in response without even bothering to look up.

"Huh?" McGee took a step back.

"Let me guess. Your sending me to Canada, to live with the great aunt I never knew existed," She spoke slowly, in a way, as though calling him stupid.

The emptiness in her heart consumed her, and even though he was halfway across the room, McGee felt it. It made him feel as though every good deed, every errand of mercy, every bad guy they put away, was all in vain.

"Or maybe you'll take the 'easy route' and stick me in the system, to grow up abused in another crappy, run down house, that you would tell me was 'home', and a group of smoking drunkerds on acid trips, that you would tell me was 'family'. Let me guess. You're going to change my name again, and dig another grave for Cameron Diez. You'll tell me I not who I know I am, give me a history that never happened, make me remember memories of places and people the never existed, and tell me everything that's right and wrong, ignoring what I think and what I say, claiming that you're judgement is best because your an adult and I'm too young to be an 'American citizen'," She hissed turning her head away.

"Cameron, that's not how it works..." McGee started. He didn't know what to say.

"Oh, of course not. I'm sorry, my childish mind must've jump to a conclusion. Us stupid kids tend to do that sometimes," She said rolling her eyes.

McGee sat down across the table from Cameron. "Look, I know you've been hurt like this before, but you're not legally old enough to take care of yourself,"

"Yeah, well you should've told that to my 'uncle' Robert. Everyday, he'd leave sometime in the late mornings, usually to go to some bar. He wouldn't return until like two in the morning. Yeah, I appreciate his service, but he doesn't care about anything. I've had to do everything myself for the past six years. I'm mature enough to take care of myself," She didn't look up once while she spoke.


"Look, you have to understand where I'm coming from. My mom died from cancer not long after my brother was born. So my dad took care of us. When I was ten years old, someone planted a bomb in our house and the explosion killed my father. My little brother, Carson, was only four. I loved my father, Agent McGee. I died that day. We were told by 'FBI agents' that we -because we'd seen the explosion- were witnesses to murder and needed to be placed in witness protection. And I, being so young and foolish, didn't think on it once," Cameron explained.

"Those 'FBI agents'... they were the extremists who posed as law enforcement six years ago, weren't they?" McGee asked.

Cameron narrowed her eyes, but kept her gaze steadily towards the floor. "They wiped away all the blood and dirt, and made us sparkely new identities, so all the pretty people, in their pretty little houses, didn't have to worry about Cameron and Carson Diez. And so they convinced us that their judgement was better and sent us to different parts of the country, and now I'm never going to see my baby brother again!" She yelled, for the first time looking McGee in the eyes.

McGee looked down at a loss of words. There was nothing more he could say that wouldn't only make things worse. Cameron was staring at the floor again, so he decided to change the subject. "What's your favorite color?"

Cameron looked up. "Huh?'

"Color. What's your favorite color?" He asked.

"Seafoam green," She asked. Her eyes almost seemed to harden, immediatly after speaking. "Why do you want to know?" She hissed. "So you can convince me that I'm wrong? That my favorite color is actually neon pink?"

McGee, to Cameron's surprise, looked erestly taken back. "Why would you think that? I would never do something like that! I just wanted to get to know you better..." He said.

"Oh," She whispered and lowered her head.

"Do you have a favorite book?" McGee asked.

She remained silent for a long time. "Maniac Magee," She said, finally.

McGee didn't even ask her why she liked the book. He just knew that she liked it and respected her decision. "Who's you're favorite band?"

Cameron didn't hestitate so long this time. "The Beatles. My favorite songs are Here Comes the Sun and Elenaor Rigby," She seemed to be trusting McGee a little bit more.

The conversation continued on like that for almost a half an hour, with McGee asking her questions, and Cameron answering them, talking about life before the explosion. She told him about her, and in turn, he told her stories from when he was a kid. His stories made her smile. He liked it when she smiled. She reminded him of his little sister, Sarah McGee. He actually got her to talk about her dad. But the more he talked with her, the emptier he felt inside. It was as though there was a voice inside of his heart that was telling him there was something he had to do. He felt torn. His heart told him he needed to do something, to keep this girl out of the system, but his head told him that there was nothing else he could do. It was though there was a war going on inside of him when he asked her his next question.

"So, who's your favorite Disney Princess?" McGee asked.

But almost immedeatly he wished he hadn't.

Cameron narrowed her eyes once again. "Hmph. Disney. The advertiser of false hopes," She muttered.

"What makes you say that?" McGee asked, surprised by her reaction, standing up.

"They make the world seem like such a great place, pretend like if you wish upon a star, all your dreams will magically come true. That's not how the world works. It's just getting kids' hopes up, so they can be dashed away when they grow up and learn about the real world,"

"Aw, come on. Don't you believe in magic, and true love, and happy endings?" McGee asked.

His question was only met by an even darker gaze. "There's no such thing as a 'happy ending'. There is no 'happily ever after'. Yeah sure, in the story, the prince and the princess go off and get married and have kids. Happily ever after. The end. Yeah, well what happens when one of those kids gets sick and dies of cancer, huh? How happy is it then! There is no 'happily ever after'! If there was a 'happily ever after', I'd still have a family! I'd still have a home! If there was a 'happily ever after', I wouldn't be here right now!" She practically yelled.

McGee took a step back, a bit taken back. Cameron looked up at him, and realized what she had just said. She looked down and put her head on her hands. "Just go away," She whispered. "Just leave me alone,"

McGee gave a cort nod. Even though she didn't have any authority to tell him to leave, he decided it was for the best, and he didn't want to start a fight. He exited the conference room with his mind made up.

He'd been working for eleven days straight.

And he could work for one more.