Author's Note: Originally, I said that the story was 26 chapters and a prologue but when I was doing a last read through before uploading, I realized chapter 14 was nearly double the length of any other chapter and it covered two separate plot points, with a very definitive shift between the two events in the middle. So, I split the chapter into two chapters and promptly added another 1000 words to this chapter and 1500 words to my new chapter 15 to do both plot points justice. :)

Chapter 14 – Clandestine Operations

Gibbs

He and Tim hurried with Blue to the loading dock and after Blue scanned the alley, he motioned for them to go.

"Don't be seen," Blue hissed. "It'll be my ass if you get caught by the cops trying to help that kid."

Gibbs didn't answer but the look he gave to Blue said that he had nothing to worry about.

"Don't worry," Tim said answering for him since he apparently felt the need to reassure Blue. "If a division of Germans couldn't find him, some flat-foots won't have a chance."

"This isn't a forest, McGee," Blue retorted as he opened the door. "And if you get caught, heads will roll, and I'd rather keep mine."

He checked the alley again and then stepped outside with Tim on his heels. He hurried down the alley towards the main street and paused at the corner to scan for cops. As the young man caught up to him, he turned around just in time to see Tim pocket his glasses. He stared at Tim.

"What?" Tim asked. "They're looking for a guy with glasses."

"You think that removing your glasses is an effective disguise?" Gibbs asked incredulously. Tim nodded. He shook his head and then slapped Tim on the back of the head.

"Hey," Tim muttered as he rubbed the back of his head. "You know, I haven't missed those."

"Come on," Gibbs said as they stepped out into the street. They moved cautiously but there didn't seem to be anyone around. When they reached Gibbs' truck, they slipped inside and drove off.

"McGee, about the woman, Abby," he said once they were safely away from the club.

"I know," Tim said with a sigh. "I think she suspects something."

"You think?" he asked incredulously.

"Ok, I know she suspects something. And before you say anything, I know," Tim said with a sigh. "Tony warned me the day I met her."

"Don't blow this op because of a woman, McGee, no matter how much you like her," he said. Tim frowned. "Do what you can to fix this. If it doesn't work, we'll have to take other steps. We can't let her ruin this operation, not when you've started to make progress."

"What'll you do to her?" Tim asked concerned.

He looked at Tim. Tim looked shocked. "I'm not going to kill her, if that's what you're thinking," he replied.

"I know that," Tim said hastily. "I didn't think that, Gibbs. But if she disappears, people will ask questions and they might look at me. It's not like I've hidden that I like Abby and get on with her. Napolitano even knows that we're sweet on each other."

"Or he could suspect the Frog," he suggested. Tim nodded in concession. "There's always blackmail," he replied softly. "She loves her club and doesn't want to see it shut down. We use Quicksilver as leverage to keep her quiet. But I'd rather not do that. It's riskier."

"Me neither," Tim said softly. He glanced at McGee. If they had to go that route their budding relationship would be over in a blink of an eye. "I'll figure something out," Tim replied.

He nodded and fell silent. Despite the risks, he hoped that McGee did figure out how to fix this. After all his personal sacrifices for this case, Tim deserved a little happiness. And after working for her for months, he cared for Abby enough that he wanted her to be happy too.

McGee gave him directions and thanks to the late hour, they arrived in a quiet neighborhood in Georgetown in less time than expected. They hurried up to the door of a brownstone and Gibbs knocked, loudly. After pounding on the door and ringing the bell for nearly a quarter hour, they finally heard movement inside.

A light turned on in the upstairs bedroom, then in the downstairs parlor. Finally, they heard the lock on the door click open and the chain slide to the side. "Why in the blue blazes are you pounding on my door at this hour?" the irritated resident asked as he opened his door. He was an older gentleman, sturdily built and had a few traces of Scottish brogue in his speech. He had a robe hastily pulled on over his night clothes and glared at them through wire-rimmed glasses.

Tim pushed him aside and said, "Doctor Mallard, may we come inside?"

"No, you may not," he retorted angrily. "Not until you explain yourself."

"It would be better if we did that off the street," he said as he looked around. He didn't suspect that they had been followed but he'd prefer to make sure that they weren't seen just in case.

"Either you explain yourselves or I'll bid you goodnight and call the police," Doctor Mallard said angrily.

"It's about Jimmy Palmer," Tim said hastily. "He's in trouble."

"Jimmy?" Doctor Mallard asked, his tone softening. "Come in," he said. They nodded and entered the modest house. Doctor Mallard closed and locked the door then turned on a second lamp, helping to further illuminate the room. "What about Jimmy?" Doctor Mallard paused as he examined Tim. "I remember you," he said looking at Tim. "You helped Jimmy out a few months ago with that club owner, the one that was murdered." Doctor Mallard shot Tim a dark look.

"If you are implying that I killed him, then you are wrong, Doctor Mallard," Tim replied. "His death put me out of a job."

"We're wasting time, McGee," Gibbs said.

"I know," he said. "Doctor, we need you to come with us and we need you to bring your medical bag."

"Why? You said this had to do with Jimmy. Was that just a ruse to gain entry to my home?"

"No," Tim replied. "Jimmy was shot."

"Shot?" Doctor Mallard asked in surprise. "Give me a moment to change and collect my bag." He started towards his stairs, but he paused. "You will explain to me how this all happened on the way."

"Of course," Tim replied.

"You might want to hurry, Duck," Gibbs said as he glanced at his watch.

Doctor Mallard looked like he was going to say something, but he thought better of it. He hurried up the stairs and out of sight.

"Duck?" Tim asked after he had gone.

"Yeah," Gibbs said pleased with his joke. "Mallard. Duck."

Tim rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Doctor Mallard returned a moment later, dressed and carrying his black medical bag. He turned off the light and pulled on his coat and hat as they left the house. Doctor Mallard locked the door and followed them to his truck.

He looked at the older man. He didn't seem very stealthy or very athletic. He could pose a problem if they had to dodge the cops trying to get back into the club. "I hope you're up for some covert action, Duck," he said as they got into the truck. Doctor Mallard slid into the middle of the truck.

"Whatever for?" Doctor Mallard asked as Tim sat in the passenger seat and pulled the door shut. "Was Jimmy involved in something illegal?"

He shook his head. "The kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Gibbs replied as he started the truck and pulled into the street.

Doctor Mallard looked at him for an explanation, but he remained silent as he focused on the road.

Tim took the initiative to explain. "He was shot escorting a club waitress home," Tim replied. "Other than having a few drinks, which he paid cash for, he did nothing illegal."

Doctor Mallard looked at him in shock. "Why on earth haven't you taken him to a hospital instead of coming to me?"

"Jimmy wasn't the only one shot tonight. There was an…" Tim searched for the right word. "...An incident between some competing businessmen. The cops are crawling all over the place. If we took Jimmy to the hospital, they could find the club," Tim replied. "And Mr. Napolitano wouldn't take that too kindly."

Those were both understatements. Their 'incident' had been a full out pitched battle between them and Grenouille's men. He and Tony had been badly outnumbered, and they had only managed to rescue Jimmy and the waitress because they had taken Grenouille's men by surprise. They had pulled Jimmy to cover behind a car where they had been pinned down while Grenouille's men worked to surround them.

Tony had just noticed Kort on their flank when he was hit. Fortunately, Blue's boys arrived moments later, and they were all crack shots. Grenouille's men were again taken by surprise and two went down in a hurry. The others hastily retreated, and he took out a third who was taking aim at Blue. They traded more shots and after a few more of Grenouille's men were injured, Kort called a full retreat and they beat feet out of the area.

The gun battle had been short, maybe only minutes, but it had been intense. He hadn't been in a skirmish like that since the Great War. A few of Blue's boys had been cut by flying glass, but they were lucky that none of their guys had been hit more seriously than DiNozzo's graze. And Tim was right, if they lost Quicksilver to either Grenouille or the cops, Napolitano would be extremely pissed especially so soon on the heels of losing the Tin Angel. He was sure that heads would roll and even as a handyman, his head wouldn't be safe merely for the fact that he had been there.

The Doctor growled in frustration. "I have had enough of those gangsters and the side effects of their business. Too many people have crossed my table because of them."

"Well unless you know the secret to take them down, that's out of your control," he said as they drove through the streets. They were getting close to the club again. He slowed as he allowed a cop car to pass him. Thankfully he didn't seem to think they were suspicious and kept going.

"If only I did," muttered Ducky. "So, this is Mr. Napolitano's club we are traveling to. Are you hired guns to protect his investment?"

"Not exactly," Gibbs replied wryly.

"He's a handyman," Tim said. "I'm an accountant."

Doctor Mallard looked at them through the dim light as he pulled to the curb. "A handyman and a bookkeeper are certainly well armed these days."

He smiled wryly as he looked at the Doctor. "We're in a dangerous occupation, Duck," he said with the ghost of a smile.

"If I am putting my life in danger, I would like to know with whom I am traveling with," Doctor Mallard said.

"Jethro Gibbs," he said. He jerked a thumb towards Tim. "Tim McGee."

Doctor Mallard nodded. "If you choose not use my given name of Donald, then you may use my nickname," Doctor Mallard said. "I prefer Ducky to Duck."

He smiled wryly as he held out his hand for the Doctor's bag.

"Keep close to me," he said as Ducky handed him the bag. "Tim. Bring up the rear."

He took the Doctor's bag and led the way towards the club.

This time, the going was much slower. Twice they had to take cover and hide from pairs of cops searching the area. To his credit, the Doctor was surprisingly agile and most importantly, he was playing along with their cat and mouse game, if only for Jimmy.

By the time they returned to Quicksilver, nearly an hour had gone by. But luckily Jimmy was still hanging on.

"Did anybody see you?" Blue asked as he let them inside.

"No," Gibbs replied.

"Are you sure?" he asked accusingly. He glared at Blue and Blue returned his glare.

"Gentlemen," Ducky said impatiently. "There is a man possibly bleeding to death inside your establishment. You can square off after I've seen to my patient."

"This way," Blue said as he led them back down to the club. Abby was holding Jimmy's hand but came to her feet as they entered the room. Ziva was seated next to Michelle, who was looking at Jimmy in shock. Tony came to his feet and met his eye.

Doctor Mallard hurried to Jimmy's side, displacing Abby, and immediately started to examine the wound.

"Don't worry, Jimmy," Doctor Mallard said, his voice masking the concern that was on his face. "We'll get you fixed up in no time." Jimmy didn't respond as he looked up at the Doctor's face. "Help me to lift him."

"No need Duck," he said. "Bullet's still inside of him."

"That's surprising," Ducky said.

"The gun was small," Michelle said, her voice rough from crying. "Hardly big enough to fit your hand."

"Probably a Baby Browning," Tony said. "Or a Colt 1908. Small, easy to conceal, not much power behind it but it'll get the job done."

"I have found that the size of the bullet doesn't matter if it is well-placed," Ducky said as he carefully removed Jimmy's shirt. The young man's stomach was covered with blood and after Ducky mopped up most of it, he saw that Jimmy was impressively fit. "Regardless of its size, it'll have to come out. I have some chloroform in my bag," Ducky said to Tim. He pointed to his bag. "Fetch it for me."

Tim knelt and opened the bag. The first bottle wasn't chloroform but it was at that moment that Tim realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. He watched as Tim cursed under his breath for his stupidity and reached into his pocket for the spectacles. After he put them on, he made a pretense of reading the label before replacing it in the bag and reaching for another bottle. That one was chloroform.

"I'll also need the chloroform mask, scalpel and forceps. They look like long tweezers. Then the suturing kit," Ducky said as he accepted the bottle. Tim found the requested items. He made to set them down on the table but Ducky jolted, stopping Tim in his tracks. "Do not put those down on this table!" Ducky said firmly before Tim could put them down. "Infection will be his greatest risk and I'd rather not introduce any contaminants to his wound."

"Would a freshly laundered towel work?" Abby asked.

"Yes," Ducky said. "And I need to wash my hands before I start. You as well," Ducky said pointing at Tim.

"Me?" Tim asked incredulously. "I…I'm really not the best person to assist you, Doctor Mallard," Tim said even as he blanched. He repressed a smile. Tim didn't exactly have the strongest stomach when it came to blood.

"Too bad," Ducky said curtly. "You got him into this mess; you must help me deal with it."

"But I didn't…" Tim objected.

"Tim," he said softly. He punctuated the man's name with a glance that told Tim to stop arguing.

Tim nodded. The two men disappeared into the back and returned after washing their hands. Tim took a deep, bracing breath as he stepped to Ducky's side.

"Get her out of here," Ducky said pointing to Michelle. The girl was traumatized enough. She didn't need to see them operate on the young man.

"Come here Michelle," Ziva said. "Let us clean you up," she said. Ziva led Michelle off towards the backstage area.

"Gibbs, take the mask and pour a few drops onto it," Ducky said. "Make sure the mask covers his nose and mouth and try not to inhale deeply yourself."

He nodded and did as he was told until Jimmy's breathing evened out and he was out. Ducky took a deep breath and began to operate.

"You might want to leave too," Gibbs said as he looked at Abby.

"No way," Abby replied. She was watching with fascination as Ducky worked. He shook his head and returned his attention to the doctor's work but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Tim looking at Abby. He looked concerned and smiled wanly at her. She returned the smile.

Ducky worked for some time, requesting various items on occasion and giving Tim curt orders. Even though he looked like he was ready to lose his lunch, Tim held it together and did as he was instructed and eventually Doctor Mallard pulled out the slug. "Got the little bugger," Ducky said triumphantly as he looked at it. He then set the forceps down and after the Doctor instructed Tim the proper way to thread the needle, he took it from Tim. He carefully stitched Jimmy up and sighed.

"Will he be all right?" Abby asked.

"I believe so," Doctor Mallard replied. "As you said, it was a small bullet. It appears to have lodged itself in Jimmy's oblique muscle."

"Is that one his very well-defined stomach muscles?" Abby asked as she admired Jimmy's form.

Ducky rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to tell Mister Palmer that you were admiring his physique when he wakes," Ducky said. Abby shrugged. "Yes, it is. And he was probably spared from greater injury because the bullet was stopped by the muscle mass. He does not appear to have lost as much blood as he could have with an injury such as this, but I will contact a friend of mine to do a follow up examination. He is discreet and will not endanger this club." Ducky looked around, seemingly for the first time, and nodded in approval.

"Good," Abby said. "I mean good that he'll be ok and good that my club won't get shut down."

"Your club?" Ducky asked incredulously.

"Yes mine," she replied defensively.

"He knows that Mr. Napolitano owns Quicksilver, Abs," Tim said, his voice quavering slightly as he realized what he had just done.

"Oh," she replied sheepishly. "Right. I manage this club."

"Is there anything you can do for Tony?" Gibbs asked.

"Hmm," Ducky said turning to look at Tony. He removed the makeshift bandage. He examined Tony's wound. "A few stitches I think. Let's take off your shirt so I can get a better look at the wound." Tony nodded and started to unbutton his shirt. "Then I would greatly appreciate a scotch. It has been some time since I last had a drink. That is of course, if you have scotch."

"Of course," Abby said indignantly. "Have a particular region you're partial to?"

As he worked, Doctor Mallard said, "Well when I was in medical school at Edinburgh, I was partial to Bladnoch. But I came to enjoy Glenfiddich as I got older, though the Macallan will do just as nicely."

"Glenfiddich it is," Abby said.

Tim hastily excused himself to wash the blood from his hands, but he suspected that Tim had made his hasty exit, so he could finally empty the contents of his stomach. It was enough to perform surgery on Jimmy; Tim's stomach couldn't handle seeing his partner being stitched up.

Tony grimaced a few times as the Doctor worked but he didn't say anything.

"I do apologize, my boy," the Doctor said. "I am not used to dealing with the living."

"I noticed," Tony replied. "It's ok, Doc," Tony added.

"You can call me Ducky," he replied as he finished. "You'll want to find a proper bandage to cover that wound."

Abby stepped forward and began to help Tony bandage his arm from a first-aid kit she had collected from behind the bar. He smiled fondly at the sight of US Navy emblazoned across the green bag. If he were to guess, Abby had found the bag at a military surplus sale.

"As soon as I'm done with Tony, I'll get you your drink," Abby said. "It'll be on the house for helping out."

"Delightful. But give me a moment to wash," Ducky said holding up his bloody hands.

"I should do the same," Gibbs said as he held up his hands.

"I'm going to check with Blue," Tony said as he pulled on his shirt as Abby finished tying off the bandage. "I want to see what's going on for myself."

He hurried into the bathroom and washed the blood from his hands. The doctor was more meticulous, so he left the older man behind as he returned to the main room. Tim had returned and looked decidedly better.

He watched from the shadows as McGee sat down heavily in one of the chairs. While he had never met Jimmy, McGee had told him about the situation he had found Jimmy in when they first met six months ago. At the time, he had cautioned McGee about helping Jimmy with his debts at Sugar Street, but McGee had helped anyway and thankfully it hadn't backfired on him.

McGee glanced at Jimmy. He was still out but his breathing was even and unlabored. Jimmy was younger than Tim and painfully naïve. For that reason, Tim had taken a liking to him. He knew that it would hit Tim hard if Palmer paid the price for resembling him.

"All right," Abby said. In the empty club, her voice easily carried to the doorway where he was standing in the shadows. "What's going on?"

Tim looked up at her. "What do you mean?" Tim asked innocently.

"There's something hinky going on, McGee and I don't like it," she said pointing a finger at him.

"Hinky? What the hell does that mean?" he asked puzzled.

"Weird!" she said poking him in the chest. "The gun, knowing Gibbs was a Marine, reading that bottle without your glasses to name a few. Plus you, Gibbs and Tony know each other far better than you let on. I can tell. There's no way that you just met Gibbs last weekend."

McGee stood up to gain a measure of balance between them. "Is it that unreasonable that Gibbs told me he was in the Marines?" McGee asked picking one that seemed to be the easiest to explain.

"No," she said. "But I've known him for two months and about all I know about him is that he likes Bourbon. You just met him last weekend. I can believe the gun thing," she said motioning towards his side where his pistol was concealed. "This life can get dangerous at times. But the glasses? You don't need glasses, Tim. I've seen you get around just fine without them."

McGee looked down. He shook his head. Clearly their time in the bedroom was backfiring.

"Oh my God!" she said, her eyes widening so much that her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. She lowered her voice and hissed, "You're a cop! You're here to close down my club!"

Oh boy. Here it comes. He put his hand to his weapon and prayed that he wasn't going to have to intervene. If Abby raised the alarm, Blue's boys would be on Tim before they could escape.

"Abby," McGee said grabbing her arm. "Are you trying to get me killed?" Tim asked. "Blue's jumpy enough that he's liable to do something drastic if he hears you say that!"

Abby lowered her voice so that he couldn't hear what she said. He edged closer but remained out of their eyesight. Fortunately, they were focused on each other and didn't notice him.

He scanned the club and didn't see any of Blue's boys either.

"I'm not here to close down Quicksilver," Tim said.

"But you are a cop," she said noting that Tim didn't deny that accusation. He held onto her arm and she didn't pull away. "If you aren't after me, then you must be after Napolitano." McGee didn't reply. "Are you with the police or the Prohibition Unit?"

McGee shook his head. "I can't tell you Abby. But I do need to know if you plan to tell Mr. Napolitano, 'cause if you do, then I'm a dead man." She bit her lip. He watched the battle being waged in her mind. He could see that Abby really cared for McGee, but he knew she loved Quicksilver. "I want to take Napolitano down and if I can do that, a lot of people will benefit. People like Jimmy." McGee pointed at the injured man. Abby frowned as she looked at the injured young man. "Men like Napolitano and Grenouille are bad for this city and this country. Palmer was shot because he looked like me and the Frog's men don't care that they got the wrong man. They just care that they didn't get the right one this time. They'll come again, and more innocent people might get hurt."

"But what about my club? You could shut it down to get at Napolitano," she said concerned.

McGee shook his head emphatically. "I don't want to take down clubs like Quicksilver. I love Quicksilver. I love the bands. I love the vibe. I love that I can come here and relax among friends." She smiled wanly at him. "I wish that you could operate in the open and not in hiding like this. I hate that you have to rely on people like Napolitano and bootleggers just to run a business."

"I hate that too," Abby said softly. "Especially Napolitano. He looks at me like I'm a…" Abby paused to search for the right word. "An escort. I mean, I'm really friendly and I'm a really good listener. And I like men…" Tim looked at Abby in amusement. "You know he even sent a woman here to try to set up a brothel?"

"He did?" Tim asked. "When?"

"Ages ago," Abby said, rolling her eyes. "Right after I took over, profits were way down in the dumps. I think Jimmy thought it would boost the revenues and make up for all the money we were losing. Holly Snow came by with a few of her girls to try to convince me they could work as dancers… with extra benefits. She'd give me a cut of the profits, but I told her no. I didn't want that kind of thing in my club."

"I'm glad you said no," Tim said. "I can't imagine that kind of thing in Quicksilver." Abby nodded emphatically. Tim sighed. "You know that until prohibition is repealed, you're stuck dealing with men like Napolitano." Tim took a deep breath. Abby nodded reluctantly. "I don't want to close Quicksilver and I don't want to stop seeing you."

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

McGee looked her in the eye and nodded. "I've never met anyone like you Abby. Maybe it is just me, but I felt like we have a connection that I can't quite put into words." McGee smiled his bashful crooked smile. "It's amazing, wonderful and terrifying all at once because by all rights, we're on opposite sides of the law."

"A law that you don't agree with," she said.

"I don't agree with it," McGee said fervently. "It created men like Napolitano. It created more problems than it fixed."

"That's the truth," Abby muttered.

"But I'm sworn to uphold the law," Tim finished.

"So, you will shut down my club," Abby said sullenly.

McGee shook his head. "No. Shutting down every one of Napolitano's clubs wouldn't stop him for long. And my mission is to take down Napolitano." She looked at him hopefully. "I care for you and I don't want to do anything to hurt you, Abby. And I want to continue seeing you if you'll have me."

Abby stared at McGee for a long while, searching his features. He knew McGee wasn't lying but Abby had to decide for herself. Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "I don't care that you're a G-Man, McGee, and I won't tell Naps either. I don't want anything to happen to you. I'd never forgive myself if I did something that got you killed."

He smiled as McGee looked shocked at her reaction. But a second later he grinned and returned her hug. "Thanks for believing me," McGee said.

"Promise me you won't shut down my club," she said.

"Abby," he said. "I can't promise you that won't happen. You know I can't promise that. I will promise that I will do my best though."

"I guess that'll have to do for now," she said as she pulled back. "So, Tony and Gibbs are too?" Tim opened his mouth. "Wait, don't answer that. I don't want to know what I already know."

"Huh?" Tim asked.

"My lips are sealed," she said just as Ducky joined him. She leaned up and tenderly kissed McGee.

"They do look like quite the happy couple," Ducky said. "Ah young love," he opined.

"Yeah," he replied as Ducky passed him and walked over to Jimmy to check him over.

Author's Note:

1. I always thought that Ducky's nickname was either a play off his last name (an actual duck) or Donald Duck or perhaps both. But for this story, Donald Duck hasn't been invented yet. He won't make his first appearance in a Disney cartoon until June 1933. So Ducky's nickname is based on his surname.

2. Tim claiming that he won't be recognized without his glasses was a tip of the hat to Superman and his alter ego Clark Kent. I never could understand why no one could figure out Superman was Clark Kent without glasses either! But like Donald Duck, Superman hasn't been invented yet. He doesn't appear in the comics until 1938.