jadesfire | Criminal Minds fic: Tilting at Windmills

My first Criminal Minds fic in 2 years, and I'm still coming back to LDSK. I'd love to know what it is about that episode that gets me, but for now, I'll settle for the story ideas and leave it at that.

Title: Tilting at Windmills
Author:

jadesfire2808
Words: ~1700
Rating/Warnings: G/None
Spoilers: Episode tag to LDSK
Notes: With thanks to

donutsweeper and

miss_zedem who leave my stories better than they found them

Summary: We've been using gunpowder as a propellant to kill each other for over nine centuries. I guess I'm just the latest inheritor of a long tradition.

Tilting at Windmills

When in doubt, have two guys come through the door with guns.
Raymond Chandler

The first shot left a neat hole, but the second went wild, tearing a ragged patch in the top right hand corner of the target. Overcompensating, the third swung away and to the left, swiftly joined by the next two before the last five came back onto the paper in a neat little grouping. Of course, they were still well outside the lines, but hitting the target seven times out of ten was probably progress.

"Not so bad," Morgan said, pulling off his ear-mufflers and watching the back of Reid's head as he slowly lowered the gun. "Getting them all together is a good sign."

"Yeah, it means I'm only going to take out one bystander instead of lots when I miss the unsub." Reid was already reloading, the movements smooth and sure. That part, he seemed confident with. He'd also seemed pretty confident after putting one neat hole in the head of a killer, but Morgan didn't buy the act any more than the rest of the team. And since Hotch had a family and Elle was trying to pretend she had a social life, Morgan had been nominated shooting instructor for the evening.

"You'll be fine, Reid." They were alone in the range, but Morgan kept his voice down, not wanting to wind Reid any tighter than he already was. The dark, cramped booth didn't seem to be helping, and the range amplified and echoed every sound. "You did just fine in the field. Now all you have to do is replicate it in the range."

"Great." Sliding the clip home, Reid lifted his head to face the target again. "So all I need to pass my firearms qualification is to have the instructor hold a gun to my head."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "I can arrange that for you if you think it would help."

The comment seemed to work, because some of the tightness went out of Reid's posture, and Morgan heard a huff of laughter before the shooting started again. This set of holes were better than the last, four of them making it inside the outlined figure and four more forming another group just above its right shoulder. Eight out of ten.

When the noise died away, Morgan sighed, because they'd been down here nearly forty-five minutes already, and there hadn't exactly been a vast improvement in Reid's aim. "Maybe we should call it quits for tonight," he said. "Test is tomorrow. You don't want to peak too soon."

That got him a sideways look that was about equal parts amused and annoyed. "Look, but despite what Hotch said, I still have to pass this thing to get my firearms license. I have less than twenty-four hours and right now-" It was something of a relief that Reid gestured with his free hand; Morgan trusted the kid, and the gun should have been empty, but brandished weapons in tight spaces made him nervous. "-I'm not even hitting the target consistently. They're only going to let me re-test so many times before they take away my gun for good. You can head off if you want though." He shook his head, reaching down for the next clip.

Ignoring the casually dismissive tone, Morgan folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. "I'll stay for now. Said I'd give you a hand, didn't I?"

"You gave me a whistle."

So. Not quite over that one, then. "You gave it back," Morgan reminded him, holding up both hands and waiting for Reid to chill a little before tipping his head towards the target. "You've earned your license already. We're just going to make sure you get the piece of paper too. Now. You remember what Hotch told you?"

"That a Dalmatian could do it?"

It was probably meant to be funny, but Morgan just rolled his eyes. "Reid."

"Right." Blinking, Reid turned back to the target. "Front sight, trigger press, follow through."

"You're rushing it." It was tempting to just draw his own gun and show Reid how it was done, but they'd already tried that and it didn't help. Reid knew how to shoot, knew how the gun worked, probably better than Morgan. When Reid really put that big brain of his to something, he got it, and he got it fast. And that was part of the problem. "Your first shot is hitting fine, but the others are going wide because you're trying to get through them so quickly. Slow down." It was hard to tell whether he was being heard, because even on a good day, Reid was about as relaxed as a cat on a washing line. Still, Morgan kept his voice even and steady, hoping his tone was working even if the words weren't. "You hit the guy the first time, you don't need to keep shooting. No one's going to care if it takes ten seconds longer for you to empty your clip. Just feel the rhythm of it, don't rush the shots. You'll know when you can fire again without the recoil messing with your aim."

In the darkness of the booth, the whites of Reid's eyes seemed huge as he glanced over. "Okay," he said, blinking slowly, and maybe this time he actually got it. "Okay."

All ten shots hit the paper this time, and six were well within the outline.

"Better," Morgan said, holding out a hand when Reid went to reload again. "I really think you've had enough for one night. Better to go out on a high."

The blinking sped up a little. "But-"

"You're getting tired. Anything else you manage is going to be by a fluke, not from practice, and you don't want your arms aching for the test tomorrow."

There were all kinds of objections in the look Reid gave him, but Morgan just raised an eyebrow. Deflating a little, Reid shrugged and put the gun down, running a hand over his hair as he stared out at the target. Most of the holes were clustered high around the shoulders and neck area, with a couple of strays somewhere about the right elbow.

"Did Hotch tell you what I told him?" Reid asked, in that tone that meant he was going to answer his own question. "About how I was aiming for Dowd's leg?"

Closing his eyes, Morgan couldn't help the smile because yeah, that figured. He shook his head. "We try not to shoot people at all if we can help it, but you did what you had to do, and you did it in time. You did good."

"The earliest gun dates back to the thirteenth century," Reid said, and it sounded like one of his non-sequiturs, except for how he still hadn't looked away from the target. "China. They found the world's oldest handgun there, made of bronze and dating from 1288, although texts suggest that there were similar weapons as early as the eleventh century. We've been using gunpowder as a propellant to kill each other for over nine centuries. I guess I'm just the latest inheritor of a long tradition."

In the light coming from the range, Morgan could see the curl of Reid's mouth, that look he got when he wasn't really laughing but didn't know what else to do.

"You know you don't have to carry." Moving a little closer, Morgan waited for Reid to turn to him before going on. "It's not compulsory and nine times out of ten, you're going to be able to talk your way out of a situation before you have to pull the trigger."

"I know. Gideon said that the best weapon I have is the unsub's profile."

Morgan wouldn't have put it quite like that, but he shrugged anyway. "He's right."

"I know." Reid's smile shifted from awkward to bitter. "But that tenth time, if someone dies because I don't have a way of stopping it?" He left the question hanging as he started to gather up the gun and spare clips, and Morgan was pretty sure it didn't need an answer.

They were at the door of the booth when Reid stopped and looked back at the target. "I know they make them person-shaped so it's better practice for us, but am I the only one to find it more than a little creepy? Generally speaking, the unsubs don't stand still with their hands at their sides, just waiting for us. Feels more like tilting at windmills than learning what it's like to shoot an actual person."

"Reid." Morgan always forgot how young the kid really was, that weird mixture of innocent and experience that showed sometimes in his eyes. It was unsettling, and brought out Morgan's protective streak like nothing else. He waited until he was sure he had Reid's full attention before saying, "You don't want too much practice shooting people for real. You understand me?"

This time, Reid held his gaze for a long moment, then he nodded. "I understand."

"Good." Morgan pulled the door shut behind them, and waited while Reid checked the pistol and clips back in. "Now. I don't know what else Hotch told you, but I did hear what you told him." He put a hand on Reid's shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially as they headed up the stairs into the lights of the main building. "Does he really kick like a nine year old girl?"

There will be no justice as long as man will stand with a knife or with a gun and destroy those who are weaker than he is.
Isaac Bashevis Singer