View Down The Scope Chapter 2: EMPAD, a csi: miami fanfic

Disclaimer: CSI: Miami does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: For Mr. Hathaway, as always. For b8kworm and SunMee. kdeb, you wacko; you spawned this thing, so you take some of the heat. Thanks for the read through. Marianne, what can I say? Oh, and kudos to whoever gets my reference in Spoiler(s).

Summary: He always considered this the still before the storm, before humanity's worst were to be found and judged, before the deliverance to bad news.

Rating: PG-13

Archive(s): Evidence of Things Unseen, Lonely Road, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): H/C

Spoiler(s): I've renamed the two constellations to Kill Zone major and Body Count minor.

Responds to the Kill Zone challenge on the H/C mailing list: a one part H/C fic that in some way, shape or form, references Kill Zone.

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Title: View Down The Scope

Author: Laeta
Email: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

Chapter 2: EMPAD

Over a year ago, after the sniper, Christopher Harwood, reigned in a three day terror rage, the Miami-Dade Police Department swore never again. They combed through each personnel file, across all the departments, looking for talent. What they came up with was an elite group of police officers with abilities to parallel that of even a Marine sniper, but who knew the lay of the land. They lived and worked in Miami; they would protect it with their lives.

Fifteen individuals made up this group called EMPAD, the Elite Miami Police Armed Division, and their purpose was to become the militia of the twenty-first century. Snipers, terrorists, gangsters made their plays in secret; then so would they. They trained in secret, honing already considerable skills to the best of their abilities, at all hours of the day. The call for a scenario would come at evening rush hour, midnight, dawn, and rarely, three o'clock in the afternoon.

Department superiors across the board knew of EMPAD, but the public did not. It would make all the members of the group prime assassination targets, and each person swore a private oath to protect the others. After all, they were the only ones who knew their code of objective, duty, and responsibility.

They sought Horatio, finding his dossier and including him immediately. Horatio had an amazing record, as a police officer on the street, as a part of the bomb team, and, of course, as a criminalist. Brains and a shooting eye to die for, they worked him hard to convince him of the need-to-know secrecy. Eventually, Horatio went over to their side, joining the group as a unique sharpshooter. He never missed his target, ever.

After a few months of training, it came as a surprise to nobody but Horatio that his specialty was moving objects. They had yet to find a limit of target size. There were only so many empty soda cans for practice.

One of the group members rigged a tennis ball server to take soda cans, and they arched it into the sky one weekend. Horatio cuddled his weapon and hit every one of them. Later, they rigged a field with a number of the altered machines, gave Horatio hideout and let him go. He only missed ten targets that day.

Then they changed things up a bit, giving him night practice and affixing a night vision lens to his scope. Admittedly they were excellent challenges to Horatio, but he paid for the time at work and slipped off his game for a while. Like a chameleon adapts, he soon craved the mindless challenge the practices offered; an escape from the chaos of murder and mayhem each member strove to contain with their shields.

He experimented with weapons, too. Having always preferred his nine millimeter, he did not like the bulkiness of the other guns. He also avoided the rifle like the plague; it reminded him too much of Calleigh and the teasing lilt of her voice. Horatio did not even want to begin to think of the distraction it would bring him.

Eventually, though, he had to try the rifle, and it never let him go. Every time he settled with one, he said a quick prayer in Calleigh's name for no reason other than the fact he died a little every time he pulled the trigger. The prayer buffeted him a little, keeping his sanity intact when he returned from the zone he entered.

In so many ways, it was this experience he wanted when he and Calleigh went to the shooting range in the first place during the sniper situation. He wanted to step inside of a sniper's shoes and mind; he wanted to know what s/he thought as s/he gazed down the scope of the weapon of choice. Now, he had received more than he could handle.

During that time when Horatio was acclimating to both the rifle and the night sessions, he had a particularly uncharacteristic training exercise. He missed so many targets and could not settle down. At the end, for the first time in Horatio's life, he experienced the complete acceptance of a group; the other EMPAD members convened on his house and simply listened.

It was Aaron who led the instigation and eventually drew out the Hank Kerner situation - and Calleigh. Following his lead, the group neither judged nor offered advice; it was an odd bonding moment for sure, especially for a man like Horatio. Confiding was never a strong suit.

This evolved into one of the more unusual aspects of EMPAD; they all reported to a particular council, but they never decided on a key decision maker. Rather, they flowed in the oddest ranking system ever by taking point in whatever situation was the most familiar. For example, right now, Aaron and Horatio were in the throes of a hostage situation; it was Aaron's mode of living so he called the shots. As soon as the hostage part resolved itself, if there was a bomb, he would deflect to Horatio.

Even now, Horatio could see the other EMPAD members of the force out in the crowd, lending their silent support. They were hidden amongst the other law enforcement officers who watched the scene unfold.

He took some measure of comfort in the anonymous encouragement that he and Aaron had. Simply by being there, EMPAD promised they would be together through anything; they had already lost one member, they were not about to lose another one. Or two.

Aaron nonchalantly slipped a sheet of paper to Horatio; the header was from the EMPAD council. In summary, the memo said there was no other time than now to let the public know EMPAD existed. The team's van with tailored equipment would be arriving momentarily, and he would suit up and take his position.

A nonexistent signal brought the rest of the team out from the crowd. They crossed the scene barriers by a subtle show of identification as the van arrived on the scene. Within seconds, Horatio was surrounded by the team who all wanted the same thing - backup for Calleigh. No one should ever have to go anywhere without it.

Horatio's backup was the rifle he detested and needed. No other weapon fit his hands more solidly, and no other weapon worked as well with him. The prerequisite three feet long, it was also a technological marvel in ways only known to Horatio, EMPAD, and the rifle's maker. The maker would take the secret to the grave, if need be.

Before Calleigh was back amongst the others to receive last minute instructions from Aaron, Horatio was gone, hidden in a vantage point looking straight into the main room of the house. SWAT was nearby, ready to move on any mark from Calleigh, but Horatio was faster. Two teams feeding off the other, SWAT and EMPAD, both with their own strengths, they were formidable together.