His morning Spencer was at the shooting range with Hotch, practicing. Spencer had been missing the mark all along.

"On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps" said Hotch. "One: front sight, focus on the front sight, not on the target. Two: controlled trigger press. Three: follow through, after the shot you come right back to the target. Now, what did you do wrong?"

"I didn't follow through," Spencer murmured, putting his gun down.

"Right. You came off the target to see where you hit."

"Hotch, the firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one."

Spencer removed his earmuffs. Hotch shoved Spencer aside, drew his own gun, and aimed at the target.

"Front sight, trigger press, follow through," Hotch repeated, pulling the trigger, hitting the paper man's head.

"You do those three things, you'll hit your target every time."

Spencer tried another time and missed again.

"They're going to take away my gun," Spencer complained.

He was grumpy because he would probably fail tomorrow and wondered how Parker could do it. His better half had never problems with their gun qualification.

"Profilers aren't required to carry," Hotch tried to reassure Spencer.

"Yeah, and yet you carry two of them," Spencer replied.

Hotch grabbed his second gun, which he wore on his ankle. He shot the target three times again and hit the center three times.

Then he put his gun back.

"When I joined the BAU, Gideon said to me, "You don't have to carry a gun to kill someone.""

"I don't get it."

"You will. Good luck tomorrow," Hotch said, leaving Spencer to practice on his own.

~~~~

Parker had their qualification bevor Spencer, so they were there when Gideon walked into the office that morning.

"Reid failed his qualification," Elle reported directly.

"Well, he can re-test in two weeks."

"Yeah, but he's going to be embarrassed about it," Parker said before glancing at Derek. "So let's not mention it."

"Yeah, let's not, huh?" Gideon agreed, looking at Derek as well.

"Not a word," Derek said.

Almost as if on cue, Spencer walked into the office grumpy and sulking and sat down at his desk.

Though Parker didn't want Spencer to be in a bad mood, you couldn't help but think how cute he looked when he was sulking.

Derek got up from his desk and joined Spencer.

"Hey," Derek said. "We're all here for you. I'm serious. If you ever need anything..."

Derek hung a whistle around Spencer's neck.

"–Just blow on that."

As Derek walked back to his desk, Spencer tossed the whistle carelessly to the side.

"Was that really necessary?" Parker grumbled.

"It's just a joke," Derek defended himself.

Parker sighed, putting the file back on the desk before leaning back in the chair.

"Not for him"

"Hey. Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon. Three victims shot at distance. It's the third such shooting in two weeks," JJ drew attention.

She handed each of the teammembers a file.

"A sniper?"

"We don't use that word."

"Why not?" Elle asked.

"The public perception is that the FBI doesn't have an exemplary record with snipers."

"Besides, a sniper is a professional marksman," Hotch pointed out. "These guys aren't snipers.

"What do we call them, then?"

"L.D.S.K."

"Long distance serial killers."

"How many of these guys have we caught using a profile?" Parker asked as they looked through the file.

"None."

~~

"Two weeks. Three shooting incidents. Six victims. All shot in the abdomen," Hotch began after the team gathered in the meeting room.

"First and only fatality, Henry Sachs, married, father of three, shot in a shopping center parking lot. Nine days later, Doug Miller and Kevin Parks were playing basketball at a community center. Franklin Park. Four days later, Jerry Middleton, Kate Murray and Tim Reilly. The Des Plaines Police have found no link between any of the victims."

As Hotch continued, photos of the victims and crime scenes, which were also found in the folder, appeared on the large screen on the wall.

"Ballistics?"

"He's using frangible rounds which fragment on impact, making ballistics comparisons impossible. The good news is that all the park victims are going to make it."

"The bad news is that none of them saw anything," added JJ. "However, one of the patients does have an intact bullet lodged in his spine."

"Well, what's the prognosis?" Gideon asked.

"Well, there's disagreement among surgical staff as to whether they can remove the slug without paralyzing the patient."

"Well, without a useful witness or solid piece of forensic evidence..."

"The profile is all we'll have."

~~~~

Nietzsche wrote,

"The irrationality of a thing is not an argument against its existence, rather, a condition of it."

The meeting continued in the jet.

"L.D.S.K.s are so rare we haven't been able to build a standard profile. Here's what we do know: they're always male, they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

"To take credit or relive the experience?" Parker wanted to know.

"Both," Gideon replied. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim. Contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"The Beltway Shooters left a tarot card at one of their crime scenes. Later they called a tip hotline which ultimately led to their capture."

"But our UnSub hasn't contacted anybody," Derek recalled.

"Hey will."

"Until he does, what do we have?" Elle asked.

"Sometimes it's not what the UnSub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it's what they do not do."

"He doesn't kill his victims," Spencer said.

""Underkill" is a unique signature."

"Question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally, just to wound them? Or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

"Or, does the UnSub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

~~~~

After landing, Hotch, Derek, Spencer and Parker headed straight to the final crime scene in the park.

When Parker parked the car in a small parking lot, a woman was already waiting for them.

"Agent Hotchner?" the woman with a police badge on her belt said to the agents.

From the parking lot you had a good overview of the park.

"Detective Calvin," Hotch greeted the officer. "this is Agent Morgan, Agent Reid and Agent Gallagher."

"Thanks for coming. Follow me. The cones mark the places where the victims were."

"So we know he fired from somewhere in this area. Close enough to hit all three victims, but far enough away not to be seen," summarized Hotch.

"If he's wounding his victims intentionally, we would classify him as a "sadistic killer.""

"That would help us?" Detective Calvin asked skeptically.

"Well, we know a lot about sadists. But most want to be close to their victims to watch them suffer," Parker said.

"A powerful scope would allow him to observe it from a safe distance," Spencer added.

"Well, how do we determine if he's a sadist?"

"We spend some time in his shoes, and we let him tell us."

~~~~

The agents looked around for something that might help them.

"This handicapped spot couldn't be further away from the entrance to the building," Hotch said.

He had pointed this out to his colleagues and Parker stepped closer to the disabled parking space.

"Yeah?"

"It also has line of sight to all three victims and the flagpole."

"What are you thinking?" Derek asked.

"At this range, the UnSub would have to factor in wind direction and speed as he shot. To do this, he needed a spot with a wide field of fire, where he could see the flag to judge how the wind would affect each shot. He came here before the shooting, decided this was his spot, and ensured that it would be empty when he came back. My guess is he's shooting from his car."

"Well, that would mean he wanted to get away from here quickly, that he didn't stick around to watch his victims suffer," Derek said.

"So he would not be a sadist."

"What would he be?"

"A very smart, very resourceful, very paranoid sociopath."

~~~~

Later, Parker stood in front of the boards with their colleagues and detective Calvin.

"We think the shooter has intimate knowledge of law enforcement procedures," said Hotch.

"Detective Calvin, how far out of your jurisdiction is crime scene number two?"

"About a sixth of a mile. Why?"

"If he knew how difficult it is for local police departments to interact with each other, he may have intentionally crossed jurisdiction lines."

"Y'all are saying the shooter is a cop."

Detective Calvin folded her arms over her chest and sounded less than enthusiastic.

"We're saying it's a possibility," Hotch replied to calm the officer down.

"He scouted and prepped each crime scene. He chose an elevated position with excellent enfilade, and perfect field of fire."

"That's textbook military practice."

"True."

"Yeah, but maybe he was in the Army."

"He was probably a Marine, Ranger or other specialized unit," Morgan said as he joined the others. "Garcia says the bullet was a .223 fired from an M4 variant of the M16."

"All the services use an M4," Parker pointed out.

"It's got a shorter barrel than the M16. It's less accurate, and it's a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances. This level of skill indicates specialized training."

"If he has specialized training, he knows exactly what he's doing."

"He intended to wound them. The "underkill" is deliberate."

"Everything he does is deliberate, but it's as if he needs to show us how smart he is."

"Well, since the crime scenes aren't centered around one single location, Garcia can't get a geographic profile without additional data."

"What kind of data?", Detective Calvin wanted to know.

"More crime scenes," Parker replied.

"She's going to get them. This guy's got something to prove."

~~~~

After more shots in a café, the team was able to create a preliminary profile.

"This initial profile is not ready to be given to the media. Releasing this profile prematurely can get people killed," JJ warned officers before the profile could be presented.

"We're looking for a 30 to 40-year-old male veteran driving a car large enough to shoot from, but not so large it was noticed", began Hotch.

"Like the Beltway Shooter, it's probably a sedan, customized to conceal the shooter, his weapon and the sound of his shot. The UnSub suffers from both narcissistic and paranoid personality disorders. He works out obsessively and is never without a weapon. He's completely self-centered and cannot empathize with others. Incapable of admitting fault, he blames his shortcomings on those around him. He has no friends and his career history has been marked by frequent job changes. He's drawn to high-stakes jobs by a need to prove his superiority to a world he perceives has undervalued him. And these shootings are the ultimate expression of that need. We believe he changes jurisdictions intentionally, and strikes during the first/second shift change, indicating an intimate knowledge of law enforcement."

"You're saying he's one of us?"

"We're saying he once was, or is now, a police officer."

"Is he driving a white van, too?" a second officer asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Enough," interrupted a third officer. "That'll be all for now."

"We can talk in my office."

~~~~

Spencer and Parker stood in the small coffee kitchen and Parker handed their boyfriend a full cup.

The young genius was quieter that usually, and Parker didn't need to guess why.

The young agent poured some sugar into their coffee. Then they turned to see Spencer stirring his coffee, still pouting.

"Spence, talk to me," Parker asked as the couple headed back to the desks where they could work.

"Look at me, without a gun on my belt, I look like a teacher's assistant," Spencer complained.

"A cute teacher's assistant."

Spencer pressed his Lips together, but Parker didn't miss the light pink color on his cheeks.

"You're not worried about how you look," Gideon addressed Spencer.

The older agent was sitting at one of the desks, writing something on a piece of paper.

"Hotch told me that when he came to the BAU, you told him he didn't need a gun to kill somebody," Spencer said.

"Well, the only truly effective weapon we have is our ability to do the one thing they can't."

"Which is what?" asked the young genius.

"Empathize. They dehumanize their victims. We humanize the killers."

"You're just saying that to convince me I don't need to carry a gun."

"I don't care you carry a gun or not and Parker doesn't either. Deadliest weapon we have is a thorough and accurate profile."

"Of course you believe that."

"Footpath Killer, he had a shotgun to the back of my head. I'm here, he's not," Gideon replied, stepping past Spencer and Parker.

~~~~

Parker, Spencer, Derek and Elle stood in the park right where the victims were standing to see if they could have noticed anything.

Everyone was holding a camera so the officers and Gideon in the control van could see everything.

"Parker, Jerry Middleton was facing a little further south. Can you give us that?" Hotch said over the radio.

He was standing next to the car in the disabled parking space from where the UnSub had fired.

Parker turned a bit and was now looking directly at a tree.

"The other south, Parker."

"Oh, sorry," they murmured, quickly turning in the right direction.

"Better?"

"Better. Hold your camera right there."

"It doesn't look like Jerry Middleton had a clear view of the sniper's vehicle when he was shot. The tree branches are in the way," Gideon said.

"I do have a clear view of the vehicle from here," Spencer reported. "Tim Reilly would have seen it if he'd looked down from the kite."

"Good, have the UnSub pop the trunk, see if Reid can see it."

"No, sorry. I can't."

"Nothing from position one."

"Okay, everybody, move to position two."

~~

Parker paced back and forth while they kept their eyes on the car.

Parker saw a group of police officers approach the car from the side. They were armed– something was wrong.

One of the cops threw something, Parker didn't realize what it was, but suddenly the trunk disappeared behind thick smoke.

"Parker, duck," Elle hissed, pulling the young agent with her.

The two took cover behind a tree and watched as the cop who was supposed to be the Unsub was arrested. McCarty was his name, Parker thought he remembered.

"Do they think he's the UnSub?" Parker whispered.

"Looks like."

McCarty's colleagues handcuffed him and the three of them led him away.

Then everything happened very quickly, and Parker only saw McCarty fall to the ground.

"Shot fired! Get down!"

"Go! Gun!"

"Shots fired! Shots fired! Get down!"

The cops and agents searched the entire park for the person who killed McCarty but found no trace.

~~~~

"How did McCarty end up playing the UnSub?" JJ asked Detective Calvin when they got back to the police station.

The agents and the detective sat down in one of the meeting rooms to discuss the situation.

"Weigart punished McCarty for mouthing off during the profile briefing by making him the UnSub and sticking him in the trunk of the car all afternoon."

"Wait, then how did the UnSub find out about the re-enactment?"

"Look, come on, cops talk," Derek said. "Pissed-off cops talk loud. At home, at the bars, at gyms, and to anyone who'll listen."

"What do we know?" Gideon asked. "Our UnSub went from wounding civilians to executing a police officer. So, he's escalated. He's not staying on script."

"Sometimes it's what they don't do," Hotch murmured.

Parker frowned and nodded. They decided to put that in the back of their minds.

"He didn't pick McCarty at random."

"He didn't take the gut shot."

"Why?"

"Wants to send a message. Nobody takes credit for my work," Parker said.

"Correct, his ego won't allow it. He feels underappreciated"

"Okay. But we still don't know why he wounds them," Elle reminded.

At the same moment, Derek's cell phone rang.

"Excuse me", he said and stepped away from the others.

"We know if a killer has no contact with his victims, he will contact the media."

"But he hasn't contacted the media."

"He has contact with his victims," Gideon explained.

"And there's only one way."

"Garcia nailed down the geographic profile," Derek reported after ending the call. "The crime scenes are centered on two separate locations."

"The hospitals."

~~~~

Moments later, Parker found themself in a car with Spencer, Gideon, and Detective Calvin.

Detective Calvin was driving, Gideon was in the passenger seat, and Parker and Spencer were sitting side by side in the back seat.

The others were in the car behind them, their destination was the hospital.

"I believe it's a case of "hero homicide.""

"What's that?", the detective asked.

"The best-known case was hospital nurse Richard Angelo. He would inject toxins into his victims, then wait for them to crash so that he could run to the rescue and save them," Spencer began to explain.

"He killed 25 people, and that's just that we know of," Parker added.

"If he attacked them to save them, why did he kill 25 people?"

"Wasn't very good at it."

"Yeah, and hospitals don't keep records of people who "almost" died," Spencer commented.

"So, what's the profile of one of these guys?" the woman asked.

"Arrogant. Conceited. Feel superior to everyone around them."

"You've just described every surgeon I've ever met."

"Landman," Gideon murmured, pulling out his phone.

"Let's start with Landman."

~~

Landman fitted the profile at first look.

Landman was in the Army, started out in MP school, ended up a doctor with Special Forces. Then bounced around from hospital to hospital since his discharge in 2001. And just last month he was passed over for Chief of Surgery.

When they found him, he was in one of the exam rooms looking at CT scans.

Gideon entered the room alone at first while the rest of the team watched through the window.

Dr Landman first turned around as the door opened. Realizing who had entered the room, he turned back to the CT images.

"Where's Marston?" the doctor wanted to know.

"She's not coming," Gideon explained.

"Look, I'm very busy right now."

"Perhaps you could make an appointment."

"Busy with what?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?" Gideon asked.

Dr Landman turned back to Gideon, annoyed and seemed about to say something, but then he noticed the rest of the team standing at the window.

"You're considering me a suspect?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's disconcerting. I heard what happened to your last suspect."

"Do you want to know why?"

"Collective incompetence?" Landman replied.

"Have you ever heard of "hero homicide"?"

"Would I be less suspicious if I let my patients die?"

"Absolutely."

"You get anything from his car?" JJ asked Hotch when he joined the others.

"It's a red two-seat Maserati."

"Of course," scoffed Parker.

"If he's the shooter, he has another vehicle."

They continued to watch as Gideon asked the doctor about his alibi and supposedly, he had one.

He said he was with a certain Dr. Hannah Pate in his office.

"Reid, Parker, let's take a walk down to the ER," Hotch said.

Spencer turned around immediately while Parker's attention was still on Landman and Gideon.

"Parker?" Spencer snapped his partner out of their thoughts.

"On the way," Parker assured and followed the two men.

The three agents walked the corridors of the hospital, and Parker was amazed at how similar most hospitals looked.

Parker's eyes fell on a little girl, maybe four years old, trying to push her older sister's wheelchair.

Parker couldn't help but think back to being in the hospital for a week when they were thirteen, Spencer pushing them down the corridors and the weelchair-race when they found a second one.

"My guess is, Dr. Pate is going to corroborate Landman's alibi," Hotch said, snapping Parker out of their thoughts.

"You don't think Landman's the shooter?"

"Richard Angelo wanted to be a hero because in his everyday life he was nobody. Landman is a surgeon. He has power and recognition."

"Yeah, but you know, surgeons are a different breed," Parker pointed out. "They're the stars in their field and Landman is definitely not one of them."

They reached the emergency room and went straight to the information desk. There, Hotch approached a man with short dark hair and a white coat and showed his badge.

"Excuse me. I'd like to speak with Dr Pate."

"Yes, sir, I'll go find her for you."

"The motivations for "hero homicide" are excitement, power and respect. And even though Landman's not a star, he still gets respect. Racing against the clock to save someone's life is exciting," Hotch addressed Parker and Spencer again.

"Maybe it's not exciting enough, that's... That's why he shoots three people at a time."

"But he can only operate on one at a time. It wouldn't be any more exciting."

The agents surveyed the frantic but coordinated chaos of the ER.

"At least not for Landman. And not in the OR."

"Policemen and ER personnel are on the exact same 24-hour shift schedule," Spencer said.

"The UnSub wasn't shooting at shift change because there are fewer cops on the street. He works the second shift in the emergency room!"

"Contact with the victims," Parker summarized.

Hotch reached for his cell phone, but was approached by a nurse or doctor—Parker couldn't tell.

"Sir, you can't use a cell phone in the hospital."

The black-haired agent put his phone away and walked towards her along with the others.

"Excuse me for a minute, please," Hotch spoke to her and unobtrusively showed her his badge.

"We're FBI agents, and we believe that one of your staff members might be the sniper. Now the man that we're looking for works second shift and he would have transferred from Arlington in the past two weeks."

"We haven't hired any new personnel in two months."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Look, I've got patients who need me–"

"He's in his thirties. He's vain, rude, arrogant, he works out, he shows up to work late, he blames others for his mistakes, doesn't take responsibility for his behavior, all of his co-workers detest him–"

"Oh, my God. It's Phillip Dowd. He's... He picks up shifts at Arlington."

"Is he here today?"

"Oh, my God," the now frightened woman murmured, looking around.

"Okay. Your patients need you calm," Hotch tried to calm her down. "Tell me, is Dowd working today?"

The woman nodded slightly.

"Do you see him?" Hotch asked further.

She looked around less conspicuously now and shook her head slightly.

"Go tell Gideon," Hotch addressed Spencer.

The young man immediately started running, which was a bit too obvious.

"Reid. Easy," the older agent reminded him.

As soon as Spencer walked slower, shots were fired, and the light went off.

Instinctively, Parker grabbed their gun, Hotch did the same, and the two aimed at the cause of the blackout.

The man Hotch had just spoken to was Phillip Dowd. And he was standing behind the guard with his gun, pointing it at Hotch and Parker.

"Nobody moves, and nobody dies," shouted Dowd.

They tried to speak with confidence and authority, but they knew they weren't to be taken seriously in their slightly oversized sweater.

"Put the weapon down," Parker ordered.

"Better be a head shot," Dowd said calmly. "I got this on full auto. Anything less, I go down squeezing the trigger."

Dowd was serious, Parker and Hotch knew that. Which is why Hotch slowly put his gun on the counter next to him– Parker didn't even think about it and kept their gun pointed at Dowd.

"Parker, put the gun down," Hotch muttered.

"He attacked Spence," Parker hissed.

"Put. The. Gun. Down," the older agent repeated.

Parker turned their head and looked at their colleague. Hotch shook his head almost imperceptibly.

The younger agent looked back at Dowd before they put their gun down as well.

As the two agents laid down their guns, Dowd kicked the guard in the inside of the knee. The man dropped to his knees and the other man was free to grab the agents' guns.

"Get up! Get over here!" Dowd then shouted at Spencer.

Spencer got to his feet and walked towards Hotch and Parker.

"Double time, let's go!"

"You," the UnSub addressed Parker. "Take your partner's gun, put it on the counter."

"He's not armed," Parker explained.

"Hands on your heads," Dowd then ordered the agents.

Parker hesitantly raised their hands behind their head.

Dowd stepped closer to them and snatched Spencer's bag off his shoulder and onto the floor. As expected, he only found Spencer's badge and just tossed it away as well.

"Get up, Keith," Dowd addressed the guard.

"Put those on them," he added, holding out what appeared to be zip ties to Keith.

The guard bound their hands together and then had to bandage his hands himself.

He then resigned and Dowd knocked him out with his gun.

Parker flinched and slowly they got respect for the situation. They weren't scared, not really.

"Get down on the ground," he ordered Spencer and Parker.

Spencer and Parker sit down next to each other on the floor.

"You okay?" Parker whispered.

"Yeah, you?"

Parker nodded and while the two young agents talked, Dowd asked Hotch to sit down as well.

"Now what kind of an FBI agent doesn't carry a gun?" asked Dowd.

"I'm a profiler," Spencer explained.

"Profiler? They sent you to figure me out?"

"We did," Spencer replied. "That's how we found–"

"Shut up, Reid," Hotch interrupted the young man.

"No, don't shut up," Dowd contradicted. "Tell me what you think you know about me."

"Go ahead, genius. Tell him. Tell him," Hotch said. "But remember, get it wrong and he's going to kill you."

Spencer chose not to say anything.

"Okay, you're the boss, you tell me. Who am I? What's my plan?" Dowd wanted to know from Hotch.

"We know you shot 11 people in broad daylight and left us nothing. You executed a cop in front of the FBI and got away clean. And I know your plan is to go down in a hail of bullets."

"What else do you know?"

"I know you're the smartest guy in every room you've ever been in, and no one's ever known it. People feel threatened by you and try to sabotage you every chance they get. You're not a bad person. You helped save all of your victims afterwards. First guy wasn't your fault. If the EMTs had been there on time, he would've lived."

Parker was taken aback by the last part. Dowd was responsible for his actions; it was his fault! Hotch knew that and would never say such a thing.

So he had a plan. The only question was: what was his plan?

"Took those guys 13 minutes. Thirteen!"

"You want to barricade the door," Hotch said.

"What?"

"Have me and the boy do it. Let them see you that you've got at least two FBI agents in here doing your bidding."

"Yeah, right. Let you give them a signal?" Dowd asked.

"What signal? They knew you were in here. They knew you were armed. What can I tell them?"

"What is this? Some sort of profiler trick? New negotiation tactic?"

Dowd was still aiming his gun at the three agents. He seemed to be thinking about something.

"Yeah, the barricade's a good idea, though. Now why would you want to help me?"

"I don't."

"You said they knew I was in here."

"I said, "They know you're in here.""

"No."

"That's not what you said."

"Why does it matter?" Spencer asked.

"It matters because your partner wants to help me even though he doesn't know it. Go ahead, Boss Man. Tell him why. If you lie or leave anything out..."

"They knew he was in here. They knew he was armed and dangerous. And they knew that he was gonna fight to the last round. And they sent me in here with two kids, one armed who could not hurt a fly and one unarmed who can't shoot his way out of a wet paper bag."

"They set you up."

"Exactly, and they're probably laughing about it right now."

"And that's why you want to help me."

"I wouldn't say I want to help you. But when they come in here to get revenge for the cop you killed, you're gonna go down fighting. And in the crossfire, a lot of us are going to die. They sent me in here, I figure why make it easy for them?"

"You know why they took away boy genius's gun?" Hotch asked.

"Why?"

"He failed his qualification. Twice a year I gotta listen to him whine about re-qualifying. So I tutor him, and he fails again."

"You think you've got it rough? These people done nothing but undermine me since I got here."

"Put them next to the barricade," Hotch suggested. "That way when they blast their way in here, both of our problems are solved. That sort of thing could ruin a cop's career."

So that was the plan, Parker thought. Hotch tried to get hostages out of the line of fire.

"You are one sick dude."

"How do you think I found you?"

Hotch's plan actually worked, and Dowd put the hostages in front of the doors. Only the three agents had to remain seated.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Hotch asked.

"You can ask."

"I figure the chances of my getting out of here alive are pretty slim."

"So?"

"I wanna kick the snot out of this boy. He's made my life miserable for three lousy years."

"Knock yourself out," Dowd said simply.

Hotch first shoved Parker aside, using more force than intended, so Parkers head hit the counter.

He then pushed Spencer and kicked him repeatedly.

"How smart are you now, smart guy? It's front sight, trigger press, follow through! It's not that hard! A Dalmatian could do it!"

Then he stopped and stepped away from Spencer, who was still writhing on the floor.

"Feel better?"

"I think he got the message," Hotch replied.

At the same moment, Dowd noticed the gun holster on Hotch's ankle.

"What's that?"

Dowd raised his gun and at the same time Spencer turned, aimed Hotch's second gun at Dowd and pulled the trigger.

~~~~

Shakespeare wrote,

"Nothing is so common as the wish to be remarkable."

A short time later, Parker and Spencer were treated by paramedics. Parker didn't think it was necessary, but Spencer insisted.

"Your forehead is bleeding, love. Someone should look at this."

Parker flinched as the paramedic cleaned their wound. The young dark-skinned woman mumbled a 'sorry' and reached for a band-aid.

"But with a face that pretty, I want to make sure everything heals well," she added, winking.

Parker felt their cheeks turn slightly pink and watched the paramedic climb out of the ambulance.

The young agent climbed out of the ambulance shortly thereafter and found Spencer and Hotch talking.

The older agent had already apologized to Parker and now wanted to speak to Spencer.

"Well, I hope I didn't hurt you too badly."

"Hotch, I was a 12-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a 9-year-old girl," Spencer replied.

The young genius then wanted to give Hotch his second weapon back, but he refused.

"As far as I'm concerned, you passed your qualification."

Hotch patted Spencer on the shoulder and left the two alone again.

"You know, I could use a cup of coffee right now," Spencer said suddenly. "You too?"

Parker nodded. Spencer grabbed their hand and the couple started walking.

As soon as they stepped away from the ambulance, Derek approached them.

"Reid, you all right?" he wanted to know.

Spencer didn't answer the question, just handed the whistle back to Derek and continued on his way with Parker.

"Touché, kid."

~~~~

On the plane, Gideon also asked how Spencer was doing. The young genius sat alone in the middle of the table for four and looked out the window.

"How you doing?"

"You were right. You don't need a gun to kill somebody," Spencer said.

Gideon sat down opposite the young man.

"No, you don't. But it helps."

"Yes. It does."

"I... I know I should feel bad about what happened. I mean, I killed a man. You know, I should feel something. But I don't," Spencer reported.

He had already spoken to Parker about it, well he wanted to, but did not know how

"Not knowing what you feel or... That's not the same as not feeling anything," Gideon explained. "This is going to hit you. And when it does, there's only three facts you need to know. You did what you had to do. And a lot of good people are alive because of what you did."

"What's the third?"

"I'm proud of you."