Wow, I was pleasently surprised by the amount of feedback I got - alerts, reviews, favoriting! All I have to say is thank you all soo so much! This chapter is more of a filler, as is the next, but trust me, the action is coming. I'm actually itching to start writing it! So, anyway, here's chapter two with some surprising confessions. -Taylor! x
Disclaimer: Dude, seriously, you'd know if I owned it, okay?
Chapter Two
Bethany kept up with Morgan nicely as they made their way out if the FBI building. She was looking all around her, studying things, taking them in. She never stopped until they got into the black SUV. She glanced at him a little nervously. "Will I actually have to use one?" she asked quietly.
He smiled slightly, turning the key in the ignition. "Have you ever used a gun before?"
She thought for a moment. "When I was nine, my uncle took me to a hunting range; let me shoot a rifle. But a hand gun? Never."
"It's a whole nother ball game."
Once at the indoor shooting range just up the road, Bethany felt her nerves beginning to tingle with anticipation and anxiety. It had been a while since she held a gun, even longer since she shot one. She hadn't liked the fact that she was killing something, but that the gun itself made her feel strong, not to mention protected.
"Hey, Bethany, come on," Morgan said, gently nudging her into the back room of the building with an elbow. She had huge, noise-blocking headphones over her ears, and safety glasses over her eyes. It was cement, the room, dull grey paint covering it all. There were four-foot wide lanes that couldn't have been longer than three feet forward. She swallowed, closing her eyes momentarily.
"Am I going to have to get my own?"
"It's a possibility, but probably not. We don't want you accidentally shooting anyone," he explained, sliding his gun from its holster. Quickly, he added, "No offense."
She snorted quietly. "None taken. I'd rather not accidentally shoot someone either."
He extended his arm to her, gun in hand. She took it, gingerly, avoiding contact with the trigger at all. But once her palm encircled the handle, he confidence had significantly increased, allowing her right index finger to rest on the small piece of black metal. It was a Glock 23, standard issue for FBI, and the CIA as far as she knew.
"I see you know how to hold it, at least."
"Please, there are people who don't?"
"You'd be surprised how unnatural holding anything can be for some people," Morgan mused, gesturing for her to stand between two of the slats. "Now, I want you to stand with your stronger foot forward, feet a shoulders width apart."
"I'm ambidextrous."
"You're kidding."
"No. As far back as I can remember it's been that way," she answered with a smile.
"Well, if you have a favorite side, stand with that foot forward." She stood so her right side was in front. "Okay, now I want you to raise the gun so it's level with your shoulder, and put your left hand over your right... There you go. When you're ready, pull the safety off, and go ahead and shoot. It helps if you shut one eye to aim a little better."
In this awkward position, Bethany felt powerful but yet a little guilty too. Taking a deep breath, she pulled off the safety, shut her left eye, and brought the trigger towards her. There was a bang so loud, she heard it clearly through the headphones. She felt a slight kickback, and knew enough to let it happen, but not too much. After a second, she looked to SSA Morgan, who was starring at the paper representing a person. "What? Did I do something wrong?"
She lowered the gun and flipped back on the safety
He paused, rubbing his upper lip with a thumb and forefinger. "Just the opposite, kid. Look down there? See where that little hole is? That's right where the heart would have been. You have some helluva shot."
"Maybe not as good as you think; I was aiming for the gut."
"Try aiming for the right shoulder. If you get it, we can start the test..."
JJ strode into the computer room and sat in the extra chair on the opposite side of Garcia. "What have you got?" she asked, nursing along her cup of coffee, handing Penelope her own.
She took the cup, gratefully, but didn't look away from her computer screen. After taking a sip, she spoke. "As of right now, I have Emily's identity started. It's harder than you would expect; I mean, having to find generic names that aren't quite generic enough to be obvious. And then there's making the driver's license, the social security number, the insurances... It just goes on and on."
The liaison sipped her own coffee, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping an arm around them. As she shifted to make herself more comfortable, she saw the many windows popping up and being clicked away on the monitor. "Hmm," she grunted. "Have you gotten anything for Bethany yet?"
"Nope. Not a thing, yet."
"Oh." It was quiet for a minute while Garcia focused on what she was doing. "How about 'Holly'?"
The techie stopped and looked over at her friend, eyebrows raised, but a curious smile tickling her lips. "'Holly'... Did you just come up with that?"
With a shrug, JJ swallowed her mouthful of hot liquid. "It was a name I considered for Henry, before we knew he was a boy."
She went back to her work, the smile still dancing across her lips. "I like it. Thanks, Jayje."
"Anytime," she replied, standing and exiting the room.
Hotch came into the room not three minutes after Rossi did. He looked flustered and bothered, neck tie beginning to be loosened. You could visibly see the stress on his face. Rossi himself looked peeved, but somewhat more relaxed than his boss. He sat in the chair closer to the door, putting his right ankle on his left knee and leaned back slightly. He folded his hands on his midriff.
"Why did you make this a democracy?" What was intended to be a question came out more as a statement.
"We need to catch this guy, and, deep down, I have to believe this could work."
"Hotch, that was a rhetorical question. I know this case is a priority, trust me, I do, but does it really have to involve an innocent fourteen-year-old? Would you let Jack do this?"
"Rossi," he said, flatly and sternly. "I understand and appreciate your concern, but we have to be all on board for this one. If that means I have to watch over them myself, so be it, however we all have to contribute. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
