Of Pistols and Smiles
It was a quiet day, very quiet. It was so hot even the birds didn't seem to want to chirp. The only sound was the droning chirp of a cricket in the dry, withering grass. The sun shone so brightly that most men were seeking a place in the shadows to rest, if they were not detailed to hold a watch, or another duty.
Archie was sweating in his long-sleeved shirt that had once been white, and during the long days on sea had slowly turned into an undeterminable shade of beige. He took his flintlock pistol into his left hand to wipe his right on his trousers. No doubt it would be wet with sweat again within minutes, if not seconds. He began to wonder if it had been a bad idea to ask Horatio for help with his gun practice on this hot day. His friend was likely to take his job very seriously, and Archie was not sure he'd be able to muster the same fervour for the task as Horatio. Not with the sun blazing down like this.
"Load it."
Horatio's voice brought his mind back to the pistol in his hand, and he looked down at it. With a practiced hand he filled in the powder, wrapped the bullet in a patch of cloth and rammed it down the barrel with the ramrod. He then primed the flash pan with very finely ground gunpowder, closed the lid, and looked up at Horatio again. His friend gave him a curt nod, but they both knew that loading wasn't Archie's problem.
"Now take aim."
Quickly, he turned towards the old, tattered piece of linen they used as target and felt a slight nervousness take over. He already knew he wouldn't strike the linen but he furrowed his brow, determined to do his best. Archie brought up the pistol, turned the flint to full-cock, and shot. Splinters flew from the rock, a few feet left from the linen.
From the corner of his eye he saw Horatio shake his head. "You didn't take aim properly. Focus on the front sight."
Archie nodded, wiped his sweaty hand on his trousers again, and loaded his second pistol. He brought it up again to decock it, but before he shot, he tried to take aim. As he pulled the trigger he felt his sweaty finger slip off the metal, causing the gun to turn ever so slightly. This time he had hit the rock on the right side of the linen. Archie bit his lip, trying not to look as frustrated as he felt.
"Try again.", said Horatio.
He suppressed a sigh and reloaded his pistol, now convinced that the training would be a mere waste of powder and bullets. Hitting the target would always be like playing the lottery to him – it depended on luck, too much luck to ever actually happen.
As he brought up the decocked gun, Horatio stepped behind him, close, too close, and put his left hand on Archie's shoulder. He flinched, and instinctively took a step forward.
"Don't,", said Horatio, "you need to be calm for this."
Archie tried to steady his breathing, remembering that, this time, it was him who was holding a loaded pistol, and that it was Horatio standing behind him. His friend, who had never harmed him, whom he could trust. Archie wasn't even sure if Horatio fully understood what Simpson had done to him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, only now realising how tense he had been.
He gave a nod, indicating he was ready, and felt Horatio's hands on his shoulders, turning him to the left so that he stood sideways to the target.
"Try another position. Your target may not always be directly in front of you." Archie felt his friend's warm breath on his neck, and the unusual intimacy made him nervous again. "Look along your shoulder."
When he didn't react, Horatio put his finger under the Archie's chin and turned his face towards the targets. Archie realised he had tensed again, and tried to calm down.
"That way. Bring up the gun, so you can look down your arm."
He wanted to wipe the sweat off his upper lip, but Horatio was holding him by the left arm while his right hand positioned Archie's right arm, helping him to take aim.
"Slowly. It's all in the breathing! Hold it firmly."
Archie curled his fist around the handle.
"Don't grip it too tightly; you need to be calm for this." Horatio put his hand around Archie's, forcing their fingers to interlace, forcing him to slightly loosen his grip. He now held the firearm with Archie, who felt his palm go as sweaty as it had never been.
Horatio placed his hand on Archie's hip, lightly, probably not giving the gesture a second thought, but Archie had to swallow, and remind himself to stay calm, that he could trust his friend.
"Now relax. Breathe in. Step one: Focus on the front sight. Breathe out. Step two: Control trigger press. Squeeze gently."
They shot, the linen ripped visibly in the centre part.
Archie blinked, and stared at it. "It worked!"
Horatio stepped back, smiling at him, finally smiling.
Author's Note:
Yes, this is very much inspired by the gun practice scene in Torchwood (Ghost Machine?), and a bit inspired by the gun practice scene in Criminal Minds (LDSK).
And before anyone complains: I know flintlock pistols don't have a front sight. The gun handle is probably not big enough to hold it with two hands. Call it artistic licence.