Chapter 5 – Deal with the Devil

Tim McGee

Tim groaned as he heard someone knocking on his door. Picking up his head from his pillow, he glanced at his alarm clock. Seven o'clock. Who on earth would be knocking on his door at seven o'clock on a Saturday?

Maybe if he ignored them, they would go away.

But the knocking only grew louder and more insistent.

Just as he was debating getting up to tell off the early morning intruder, he heard footsteps in his apartment. He tensed for a moment before he remembered Tony had spent the night. When he heard his partner's voice talking to whoever was at the door, he realized that he really had accepted a job from James Napolitano last night and it hadn't been a vivid dream.

It might be a nightmare. But it was real.

"Hey," a voice said from his door. He tilted his head and saw Tony in his doorway. His partner's voice was rough and he looked annoyed. "Napolitano's men are here with your contract. Get up."

"Right," Tim replied as he rolled over onto his back. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He looked at the door and saw Tony staring at him. Tony's hair was sticking up at odd angles, he had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were rumpled. "What?"

"You look like how I feel," Tony replied.

"Funny," Tim replied. "I was going to say the same thing."

"You try sleeping on the floor next time," Tony retorted.

"Trust me this bed isn't much better," he muttered. "Let them in and tell them I'll be right there."

He slowly got up and stumbled into the bathroom where he splashed some cold water onto his face, which helped to wake him a little. By the time he left the bathroom, he felt a little more coherent. After pulling on a pair of pants and a clean shirt, he entered his living area, passing the rough nest of blankets that he had hastily scrounged up to soften the floor for Tony since he couldn't return to his own bed last night. He found DiNozzo in the kitchen watching the two men who were seated at his table.

One was handsome and well built. He was wearing an expensive suit and seemed very put out. The other was clearly the muscle of the group. He almost seemed to be wider than he was tall and the chair was straining under his weight. His face was slightly pocked and scarred and he seemed indifferent to his surroundings.

"Mr. Gemcity," the handsome one said. "I am Diego Clare, Mr. Napolitano's lawyer. I have your contract for your signature."

He nodded. "Forgive me for not offering you a cup of coffee," he said. "But as you can guess, you roused us from our sleep."

Mr. Clare looked at the pile of blankets and nodded. "I understand and it is just as well. I would prefer to get this process over with so I can seek my own bed."

He nodded. "You were up all night working on this?" Tim asked as he approached the table.

"Yes," Clare replied as he opened his brief case and pulled out a stack of papers. "I met with Mr. Napolitano last night after your returned from your… celebration."

"So why do we look like hell and you look fresh as a daisy?" Tony asked.

"Coffee," Clare replied. "If you don't mind, I would like to go to bed in the next few hours and I can't do that until you sign this contract," he said curtly. "And I'm sure you would like to move out of this…place," Clare said diplomatically as he looked around with disdain. "And into your new apartment."

"Yeah well, you're going to wait for me to read the contract first," Tim muttered as he collected his glasses from the counter. He still didn't like wearing the false specs but he had gotten used to making sure he had them on at the appropriate times.

Sitting down, he started to read the contract but it was slow going. He wasn't fully awake and the technical jargon of the contract was like a foreign language. He blinked hard and pinched the bridge of his nose before he started over.

Gibbs had only left his apartment a couple hours ago. They had discussed their current case including their plan of action until they were comfortable. Then they had scoured his apartment for anything that might indicate he was a government agent. It had sounded like Mr. Napolitano had movers that would pack his things for him and he didn't want one of them to stumble onto something that would blow his cover on the first day. After leaving his place, Gibbs had gone to Tony's apartment to make sure that he didn't have anything incriminating.

When he finished reading through the contract, he read through it a second time to make sure he understood it. The contract had everything that he and Mr. Napolitano had discussed and nothing they hadn't. It was very neat.

"All right," Tim said. He looked up and saw that Mr. Clare was holding a pen. Taking it, Tim signed it with a flourish.

Mr. Thom E. Gemcity was now employed by James Napolitano.

His stomach did a flip as he realized the implications of signing the contract. Even if Thom E. Gemcity was an alias, he had just signed a contract to work for a mob boss.

"Very good, Mr. Gemcity. I will deliver this to Mr. Napolitano. Expect the movers to be here within the hour," he said but Tim cut him off.

"No," he said firmly, startling Mr. Clare. "Tell them they can arrive at ten and no earlier. I'd like to clean up and get a little breakfast before my stuff is manhandled by a bunch of movers," Tim said firmly.

"Very well," Mr. Clare replied as he placed the signed contract into his briefcase. He stood, followed by the large silent man. "I will relay your message." He shook Tim's hand. "You can expect the movers at your apartment, Mr. DiNozzo, simultaneously. You may wish to have someone present. Some of these movers have sticky fingers."

"Wonderful," Tony muttered as Mr. Clare left the apartment, followed by his goon.

When they had gone, Tim removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What a lovely way to wake up after two hours sleep."

"By a mob boss' lawyer and his ogre?" Tony asked.

Tim chuckled at the ogre comment. "Yes, but I meant the contract. Nothing like a little technical reading on two hours sleep and without coffee."

"You understood all that lawyer speak?" Tony asked.

Hearing the concern in his voice, Tim looked at his partner. He couldn't say that he and Tony had much in common outside their work. He wasn't sure he could even classify them as friends. Tony teased him and played practical jokes on him all the time which drove him crazy. And Tony was constantly complaining about how much of a square he was. But work was their common bond and induced loyalty to one another. "Yeah," he replied. "Napolitano's being straight with me. Everything we talked about was in the contract and nothing we didn't was there either."

"Good," Tony replied as he stretched out his back. "You know, I'm impressed with you. You just went toe-to-toe with Jimmy Napolitano's lawyer and somehow you managed to negotiate one hell of a salary from one of the most frugal mobsters. You've been holding out on us…"

Suddenly feeling sick, Tim covered his mouth and rushed to the bathroom. He barely made it inside before he fell to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He heard Tony shouting after him, asking if he was ok but he couldn't answer as he threw up what little was in his stomach.

Finally, when the retching passed, he leaned his head on his arm and rested on the toilet as he caught his breath.

"Tim, you ok?" Tony asked cautiously. He nodded but didn't look up. He was trying to decide if he was going to puke again. "Tim." Tony rested his hand on his back while he fought down the bile.

"I'm ok," he said finally. Sitting up, he pushed himself back and sat against the wall, resting his arms on his knees.

"Bad hooch?" Tony asked as he leaned down to look at him.

"You're telling me, you run bad liquor?" Tim asked incredulously. "To the Tin Angel?"

"It's been known to happen on occasion," Tony said seriously. "Even at the Tin Angel."

Tim shook his head. "It wasn't the liquor," he replied. "It all just hit me, you know?"

"You mean that you signed a contact with a notorious mobster who ruthlessly dispatches his enemies and disposed of your predecessor in one of the most brutal murders this city has ever seen?" Tony asked.

He closed his eyes as he felt his stomach flip at the thought.

"You're making me feel sick again," Tim said drolly.

Tony snorted and sat down next to him, leaning against the wall. "I know how you feel, McGee," Tony said. "You're worried. You want to do a good job. We've invested a lot of time into this case and we don't have much to show for it. You getting this job might finally be what's needed to take Napolitano down. But you're worried that you're going to get made, which not only means that the mission fails but that you'll probably end up dead too."

"If you're trying to cheer me up, you're doing a lousy job," he said as he cast a glance at Tony.

"Hear me out," Tony said. He nodded and motioned for Tony to continue. "You're not feeling anything different than what Gibbs and I feel when we go under cover."

"Do you puke too?" Tim asked.

Tony didn't answer right away. His partner seemed to be thinking about how to answer the question, which told him it wasn't a simple yes or no.

"I've had more experience at this kind of work," Tony replied, avoiding answering the question. "This is your first real time undercover," Tony said. "You spent most of your time behind the lines. And you know, we couldn't have done our jobs without you forging papers, analyzing security or figuring out the technology we found. That also means that you don't know how to channel those nerves into something you can use." He nodded. "I'm nervous every time I go under cover too."

"Are you just saying that to make me feel better?" he asked skeptically.

"And if I am?" Tony asked. In spite of himself, he chuckled. Even if Tony was lying, he was feeling better. "I'm not just saying it, McGee. I mean it, I've been a big ball of nerves these last twelve months and I've had far too many close calls. But I choose not to focus on the fear. I focus on the job at hand. That's how I work through the nerves."

"Thanks Tony," he said. "I appreciate you helping me."

"What are partners for?" Tony asked roguishly. "But I don't think you need my help, Tim. You've already proved that you can hold your own. You stood up to that suit twice in ten minutes. And you managed to get a three-hundred dollar a week salary from Jimmy Napolitano. That had to have been some negotiation."

This time he laughed. "I demanded five hundred to start," he replied. Tony looked impressed. "And I basically told him off for low-balling me." He snorted. "I can't believe I said all that to Jimmy Napolitano."

Tony laughed with him. When they fell silent, Tony patted him on the knee.

"And that tells me that you'll be just fine, Tim," Tony said. "You can crunch the numbers. The rest will come."

"Thanks Tony," Tim replied genuinely. "I appreciate the faith you have in me."

Tony's smile faded, and he grew serious again. "You get the feeling you just signed a deal with the devil, McGee?" Tony asked.

"I guess it depends," he replied. Tony looked puzzled, so he added, "It depends on whether we can take Napolitano down or not."

"Good point," Tony conceded.

"And it wasn't just me signing a deal with the devil," he said. "With my signature, you're in this as deep as I am. We both know that if I'm discovered, you'll be killed even if they never make you."

"Comes with the territory," Tony replied jovially. Suddenly he sobered. "But I wouldn't have it any other way. I go with my partner. That includes the triumphs and the failures. We're a team and together, we can do just about anything." He smiled at Tony. He was incredibly touched but before he could say anything more, Tony said, "So enough with this mushy stuff. Can we get up off your bathroom floor now?"

"Yeah," Tim replied.

They stood up and returned to the living area.

Suddenly Tony's stomach growled. He looked at his partner with amusement. "What? I'm hungry. You mentioned breakfast before?"

"Yeah," Tim replied. "I can get you a better breakfast than you usually can afford."

Tony pulled a face at him then smirked. "You're not going to puke, again are you?" Tony asked.

"I don't think so," Tim replied. "Although since you're my new shadow, you'll be the first to know."

"You're enjoying this," Tony said sourly as he walked over to the desk where his coat was draped. Tony looked down at himself, but his clothes were hopelessly rumpled. Only a good hot iron would remove those wrinkles. With a sigh, Tony pulled on his coat knowing that there wasn't anything he could do to make himself more presentable at the moment.

"Just a little," he replied as he entered his bedroom and searched for a coat, purposely selecting something that wasn't tidy either so that Tony wasn't the only one who looked unkempt. "Following me around has got to be your worst nightmare."

"No," Tony called. "Living with you is."

Author's Note: Momcat, The character Blue is referenced from the episode Pop Life from season 2. A sailor, Yeoman Manda King is found murdered in bed with a bartender (Willie Taylor) from the club Sugar Street. She and a bouncer, Blue McGinty, were attempting to frame Ian Hitch, the owner of the club she worked at as a dancer and singer. She wanted out of the very restrictive (and possibly abusive) contract so that she could become a pop star. So when it was mentioned in my story that Blue was sweet on one of the singers at the Tin Angel, I was referring to Samantha King even though I never named her.

One of the things I have noticed while writing this story is that NCIS tends to use a lot of the same names over and over again. There are multiple uses of names like Blue, Tom, Fred and Jimmy to name a few! The name didn't make it into the story but I know they've used the surname Purcell on more than one occasion as well. I understand that they have to put every name used in the show through the legal wringer just to make sure it's all right, so that might account for some of the repeats.