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Qualifications - Criminal Minds - Gen (Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner) - Words: 3,241
Written for Angst Bingo, Prompt: Sexual Harassment
Summary: Spencer can't pass his firearms qualifications but it isn't for the reasons everyone thought.
Content Notes: Sexual Harassment. R.
Author Notes: Takes place directly before and after the episode L.D.S.K. with direct references to events in the episode. Thanks so much to the wonderful race_the_ace who prompted me with the idea and held my hand every step of the way.
On AO3: Qualifications
Spencer was waiting on the firing range with his gun in his holster, his hands restlessly running over his safety glasses and mufflers as he resisted the urge to pace. He could almost picture Hotch there with him, going over the shots over and over again until Spencer could hit the required marks. Not exactly consistently, but he could do it. And he'd passed qualifications on five other occasions so there was no reason he shouldn't be able to do so again. He glanced at his watch again, even though it had been less than a minute since the last time he'd checked. It was nearly five minutes past when his appointment was scheduled and Spencer forced himself to inhale and exhale steadily.
The door to the range opened and closed and a man in suit pants and a dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top entered. He wore his holster at his hip like Spencer did, just a little lower. The Smith and Wesson looked liked it belonged there, like it was an extension of the agent's body. Spencer glanced down at the Glock 17 that was tucked into the holster that rested awkwardly against his side. He doubted he'd ever feel as comfortable wearing a gun as this agent did.
"SSA Delaney," the agent introduced himself as he drew closer. "I'll be in charge of your qualifications, Spencer."
He didn't offer his hand to shake and Spencer didn't offer his either. Spencer opened his mouth to say something in response but didn't know what to say since Delaney clearly already knew who he was.
"I'm aware that you missed the last scheduled qualification due to being across the country on a case so I was asked to do a quick evaluation while you're in between cases," Delaney said as he walked over and checked that the paper target was set up correctly.
Spencer watched, remembering his last qualification being with a group of agents. He hadn't realized that he was the only person qualifying that day even if he had missed the actual qualification session.
When Delaney walked back his eyes were firmly on Spencer with an expression that he would almost describe as predatory. He shivered as Delaney grew closer, his gaze unwavering.
"May I?" Delaney asked, stepping up to Spencer and holding out his hand.
It took Spencer a minute to realize that he was asking to inspect his gun and he managed to drop both his safety glasses and mufflers in the process of switching them to his left hand and had to scramble to pick them up before he handed over his Glock. He could feel himself flushing at Delaney's raised eyebrow and the small smile that appeared when Spencer nearly dropped his mufflers again.
"Try to relax," Delaney said as he unloaded and then reloaded the cartridge before doing a quick spot inspection on the gun.
"Right, relax," Spencer repeated, mostly to himself.
Delaney handed back Spencer's gun with a smile that did nothing to settle his stomach. "Go ahead and get ready to shoot. Show me your stance."
Spencer moved to the counter and placed everything down so he couldn't drop anything else. He put on his safety glasses and reached for the mufflers but found Delaney's hand on his arm and Delaney suddenly standing very close to him by the counter.
"Go ahead and leave those off for now, Spencer. You can put them on when you're ready to fire," Delaney said. "For now just show me your stance."
Spencer cringed inwardly as he realized that Delaney had already asked to see his stance. Having the examiner repeat himself was not a good first step and he quickly got into position, his head ducking down to check that his feet were where Hotch had taught him.
"Go ahead and hold your gun out like you were about to fire," Delaney instructed.
Scrambling to comply, Spencer picked up his gun and held it in the direction of the paper target. Somehow this felt worse than his very first lessons at the range and that had been over three years ago with Gideon guiding him every step of the way.
"Shoulders back, your spine should be straight as you bend your strong leg ever so slightly," Delaney said.
Spencer nearly lost his grip on his gun when he felt Delaney's hand on his shoulder and pushing it back. Delaney's other hand moved to Spencer's hip as he corrected his direction slightly and Spencer shifted uncomfortably at the invasion of his personal space. Hotch never touched him when he was helping him prepare for qualifications.
"No, keep your gun pointing toward the target. Sight as if you were about to take a shot," Delaney corrected when Spencer's arms started to drop down to the floor.
Spencer moved his gun back into position and tried to focus on the target. It was becoming increasingly more difficult when he could feel Delaney's holster pressing into his back from where Delaney was standing against him. He shifted closer to the counter and tried to move his hip forward and away from Delaney's hand only to find that Delaney was moving with him. His mouth was opening to firmly request that Delaney step away when Delaney moved back slightly on his own.
"Good, Spencer. Go ahead and put on your mufflers and we'll get started," Delaney said as he set the timer in the booth.
He placed his gun down and reached for his mufflers, trying to ignore the way his hands were shaking. There was no way he was going to hit the target like this. He breathed out heavily through his nose as he tried to find the calm place in his mind that Gideon had described when he first started teaching Spencer.
"You seem nervous. Is this your first time qualifying?" Delaney asked, the slight quirk of a smile back again.
"No," Spencer said firmly. "I've been an agent for three years."
"Good. Just try to relax," Delaney placed his hand on Spencer's shoulder again and leaned in. "We'll make sure you get there."
Spencer put his mufflers over his ears, not quite able to say why exactly the shaking in his hands seemed worse now even when Delaney stepped back again to put on his own mufflers and safety glasses.
The buzzer, loud enough to be heard through the mufflers, sounded and Spencer picked up his gun and sighted toward the paper target. All thoughts of what Hotch and Gideon had taught him had fled from his mind leaving him with the memory of Delaney's body too close to his and Delaney's hand on his arm. Spencer kept shooting even though he felt like he could barely see the target at all, let alone the outlines with the numbers he was supposed to be aiming for.
When the buzzer signaled the end of his time, Spencer lowered his gun and pulled his mufflers down to rest around his neck. He didn't need to see the target to know that he hadn't passed. He'd honestly be surprised if he hit the dark silhouette at all.
Delaney called the target sheet forward with the switch on the side of the booth, making a small sound of disappointment when he examined it. With the target right in front of him Spencer could see where the majority of his shots had gathered above the shoulders on either side of the figure. From the number of holes in the paper at least two of his shots had missed the sheet entirely. There was only one hit, on the shoulder directly in the K2/D4 zone.
He'd failed. Spencer couldn't remember the last time he'd failed a test - a test that mattered at least, because most of the physical qualification tests they'd made exceptions for him or reduced what he was required to do. He couldn't believe he'd actually failed. His was heart beating hard in his chest and Spencer looked down at the gun he was still holding, the gun he was no longer qualified to use.
"Well, not quite there, is it?" Delaney asked as he frowned thoughtfully at the target.
Spencer closed his eyes and turned his head away slightly. It was going to be bad enough when Morgan heard about it, he'd undoubtedly have something suitably embarrassing to say about Spencer's failure, but he didn't need the evaluating agent to rub it in too.
"But, we can fix this," Delaney said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. His hand was on Spencer's shoulder again, his fingers digging in slightly against his collar bone.
His eyes popped open, the sick feeling surging back into his stomach. He really wanted out of the firing range and not just because he was humiliated by his failure. "We can?" Spencer asked against his better judgement. He wanted to have passed his qualifications and maybe Delaney was willing to give him a second chance; he didn't think so, but maybe something could go right for once.
"Sure," Delaney moved closer, his chest now against the back of Spencer's arm and side. "I fill out the form saying you've passed, you get to keep your gun, and you get to come home with me for the evening. Maybe put that pretty mouth of yours to use."
Spencer felt a rush of cold through his entire body as his mind scrambled to keep up with what he was hearing. Delaney's hand had slipped forward and was tracing Spencer's collar bone through his shirt. There was no way this was happening on the firing range in Quantico.
Recognizing the rationalization for what it was, Spencer turned his body and slipped out of Delaney's grasp. "No," he said. His voice was quieter and less forceful than he would have liked, but at least it was audible. He left the room, the sound of his shoes against the floor echoing as he tried not to let his quick steps turn into an outright run. Outside of the range he handed over his gun to the officer on duty and signed it into the armory. He left the safety glasses and mufflers behind and went directly up to the BAU bullpen, aware that at least some of the numbness he was feeling was shock. Anywhere in Quantico was better than being by the firing range, even if that meant facing the scrutiny of his teammates.
*****
They'd been back from Des Moines for nearly a week when Hotch ordered him back down to the firing range. The marks Hotch left on his torso were nearly gone, now just a yellowish green tinge that was starting to fade back into his natural skin tone. The only reason Spencer was actually showing up, and five minutes late at that, was because there was still a hint of guilt in Hotch's expression when he looked at him. Spencer figured that if he could actually manage to pass his firearm qualification, and let Hotch help him, then it would possibly erase some of that guilt. Not that having a gun would have really helped them against Phillip Dowd and had actually helped them in the end, though he wasn't sure Hotch would ever see it that way.
Spencer walked into the firing range, carrying his mufflers and safety glasses along with Hotch's secondary gun that he'd insisted Spencer keep. Hotch was already waiting there, his safety glasses already on but the mufflers sitting on the counter. He was at the same place where Delaney had tested him. Spencer stopped outside of Hotch's range of reach and tried to appear as reassuring as possible. Hotch knew that he wasn't holding any hurt feelings over the incident in the emergency room, or at least Spencer had assured him of that, but he knew enough about Hotch to know that there would be some doubts for a week or two. Spencer didn't want to do anything to undermine whatever understanding they'd gained in the evening after the event.
"You really don't have to do this," Spencer said, even as he slipped on the safety glasses and settled the mufflers around his neck.
"We know you can make the shot, now all you have to do is prove it," Hotch said simply as he picked up his own mufflers and gestured to the fresh target hanging in the distance. "Just remember-"
"Front sight, trigger press, follow through," Spencer said automatically. "Believe me, I don't think I'll ever forget." He smiled a little to take any sting out of the words.
"I'd imagine not," Hotch agreed as he settled the mufflers over his ears.
Spencer put his own mufflers on and picked up the gun, steadying himself to sight and fire.
"You'll be able to retest in a week, we'll have you ready by then and this won't be an issue anymore. The problem is that we haven't been keeping your skills practiced beyond what you need to pass qualifications, but we can keep working on them until it's not going to be a concern in the future," Hotch said, moving so that he was standing behind Spencer.
He was holding the gun ready to fire, already focused on the sight with the target visible in the distance. Spencer knew he could make this shot, he'd hit Dowd from a much worse angle and with his wrists bound together. But that didn't mean he could pass qualifications; there was no way he could go back into a room with Delaney and let him stand so close to him again. The realization struck him hard and Spencer found his hands lowered with the gun loose in his grasp.
"Spencer?" Hotch asked, his mufflers off and moving around Spencer in concern.
"I can't pass the firearms qualifications," Spencer said numbly as he pushed off his mufflers. Hearing the words out loud made them seem more real.
Hotch frowned, his expression more concerned than anything else, and took off his safety glasses. "I know that firing a gun the first time after you've-"
"It's not that," Spencer corrected quickly. He hadn't even been thinking about Dowd.
"Alright," Hotch agreed uncertainly. "You've passed the qualifications before, why do you think you can't now?"
Spencer licked his lips, on the verge of telling Hotch what Delaney had said even if it meant receiving his derision or disappointment. He was an FBI agent and should have been able to handle it far better than he had. He'd spent the better part of the week thinking about it, thinking about what he could have done in that moment, what he might have done if they hadn't immediately gone out on a case. But Spencer's mind was working more quickly than the rest of him and when he opened his mouth to speak he was caught off-guard by what came out. "Agent Delaney isn't the only agent who evaluates firearms qualifications, is he? He wasn't at any of my other qualifications."
"Agent Delaney was recently transferred to the post, so he does most of the firearms qualifications," Hotch said as he observed Spencer. "Do you believe that he tested you unfairly?"
Spencer gave a short huff of laughter and pressed his hand to his mouth before he could stop himself. "No, I failed pretty spectacularly. I think I did a better job my first time shooting than I did a week ago." He took off his safety glasses and set them aside, wondering what it would take to track down the agent who had evaluated his qualifications before. He was reasonably sure that he could pass qualifications if it was someone other than Delaney in the room with him.
Hotch frowned. "Why?"
"What?" Spencer looked up from where he had mentally been planning to look for records to see who else he might get to observe his qualifications.
"Why did you fail so badly?" Hotch clarified.
Spencer set down the gun and was disconcerted to see a slight tremor in his hands. "I was nervous. Agent Delaney was standing too close to me and he was a little late and I got nervous and," he stopped himself abruptly. If he'd been watching himself in a mirror, profiling himself, he'd have known that he'd said too much as soon as he'd mentioned Delaney. As it was he knew he'd already said enough that Hotch wouldn't be able to let it go.
Sure enough Hotch had the expression he used when he was talking to a witness; concerned, empathetic, and hell bent on getting the information he wanted. "And?" he asked quietly.
"And he offered to pass me if I went home with him that night," Spencer said reluctantly. He turned away before adding, "he said something about putting my 'pretty mouth' to use."
Hotch stiffened beside him, suddenly all hard lines and angry muscle. "You said he was standing too close to you? That was before you fired?"
"Yes," Spencer said. He focused on where his hands were tracing the details of the gun on the counter so he didn't have to look at Hotch.
"How close?" Hotch asked, his voice hard.
Spencer swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the quiet hoarse quality his voice had taken on. "Up against me. He had his hand on my shoulder and on my hip." He made himself stop before he added please don't tell Gideon.
Hotch made a motion as if he was reaching for Spencer but stopped himself and placed his hand next to his on the counter instead. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen again, to anyone. Someone else will observe your qualifications and I will be there as well. Did you want to practice shooting today or shall we save that until later?"
"Later," Spencer answered after a quick glance at Hotch. He almost didn't want to know what Hotch was going to do; it was rare to see him actually display obvious signs of anger.
"I'm just going to make sure Delaney isn't in a position of authority any longer and not with the at all bureau if I can help it. People who would use their position to coerce others do not belong here," Hotch said, his voice softening slightly.
Spencer nodded, mostly relieved that Hotch wasn't going to hunt Delaney down like an unsub, but a little disappointed that Delaney wasn't going to know what it was like to be frozen and afraid as he had been.
"Why don't we go back to my office? I can make a call to arrange a meeting from there," Hotch suggested, picking up his belongings and pausing for Spencer to do the same.
"Right," Spencer said as he took the gun Hotch had given him and collected the glasses and mufflers. The last thing he wanted to do was go make a report about Delaney. Once that was done the rest of the team would invariably find out what had happened; the FBI gossip chain was surprisingly efficient.
As he followed Hotch back through the building, Spencer tried to decide whether it was worse when the rest of the team had just thought he was incapable of shooting a simple paper target or now that they'd know he couldn't even protect himself from fellow FBI agents inside a federal building. He was still trying to decide as he sat across from Hotch's desk and listened as he made the call to the Director of the BAU.
Written for Angst Bingo, Prompt: Sexual Harassment
Summary: Spencer can't pass his firearms qualifications but it isn't for the reasons everyone thought.
Content Notes: Sexual Harassment. R.
Author Notes: Takes place directly before and after the episode L.D.S.K. with direct references to events in the episode. Thanks so much to the wonderful race_the_ace who prompted me with the idea and held my hand every step of the way.
On AO3: Qualifications
Spencer was waiting on the firing range with his gun in his holster, his hands restlessly running over his safety glasses and mufflers as he resisted the urge to pace. He could almost picture Hotch there with him, going over the shots over and over again until Spencer could hit the required marks. Not exactly consistently, but he could do it. And he'd passed qualifications on five other occasions so there was no reason he shouldn't be able to do so again. He glanced at his watch again, even though it had been less than a minute since the last time he'd checked. It was nearly five minutes past when his appointment was scheduled and Spencer forced himself to inhale and exhale steadily.
The door to the range opened and closed and a man in suit pants and a dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top entered. He wore his holster at his hip like Spencer did, just a little lower. The Smith and Wesson looked liked it belonged there, like it was an extension of the agent's body. Spencer glanced down at the Glock 17 that was tucked into the holster that rested awkwardly against his side. He doubted he'd ever feel as comfortable wearing a gun as this agent did.
"SSA Delaney," the agent introduced himself as he drew closer. "I'll be in charge of your qualifications, Spencer."
He didn't offer his hand to shake and Spencer didn't offer his either. Spencer opened his mouth to say something in response but didn't know what to say since Delaney clearly already knew who he was.
"I'm aware that you missed the last scheduled qualification due to being across the country on a case so I was asked to do a quick evaluation while you're in between cases," Delaney said as he walked over and checked that the paper target was set up correctly.
Spencer watched, remembering his last qualification being with a group of agents. He hadn't realized that he was the only person qualifying that day even if he had missed the actual qualification session.
When Delaney walked back his eyes were firmly on Spencer with an expression that he would almost describe as predatory. He shivered as Delaney grew closer, his gaze unwavering.
"May I?" Delaney asked, stepping up to Spencer and holding out his hand.
It took Spencer a minute to realize that he was asking to inspect his gun and he managed to drop both his safety glasses and mufflers in the process of switching them to his left hand and had to scramble to pick them up before he handed over his Glock. He could feel himself flushing at Delaney's raised eyebrow and the small smile that appeared when Spencer nearly dropped his mufflers again.
"Try to relax," Delaney said as he unloaded and then reloaded the cartridge before doing a quick spot inspection on the gun.
"Right, relax," Spencer repeated, mostly to himself.
Delaney handed back Spencer's gun with a smile that did nothing to settle his stomach. "Go ahead and get ready to shoot. Show me your stance."
Spencer moved to the counter and placed everything down so he couldn't drop anything else. He put on his safety glasses and reached for the mufflers but found Delaney's hand on his arm and Delaney suddenly standing very close to him by the counter.
"Go ahead and leave those off for now, Spencer. You can put them on when you're ready to fire," Delaney said. "For now just show me your stance."
Spencer cringed inwardly as he realized that Delaney had already asked to see his stance. Having the examiner repeat himself was not a good first step and he quickly got into position, his head ducking down to check that his feet were where Hotch had taught him.
"Go ahead and hold your gun out like you were about to fire," Delaney instructed.
Scrambling to comply, Spencer picked up his gun and held it in the direction of the paper target. Somehow this felt worse than his very first lessons at the range and that had been over three years ago with Gideon guiding him every step of the way.
"Shoulders back, your spine should be straight as you bend your strong leg ever so slightly," Delaney said.
Spencer nearly lost his grip on his gun when he felt Delaney's hand on his shoulder and pushing it back. Delaney's other hand moved to Spencer's hip as he corrected his direction slightly and Spencer shifted uncomfortably at the invasion of his personal space. Hotch never touched him when he was helping him prepare for qualifications.
"No, keep your gun pointing toward the target. Sight as if you were about to take a shot," Delaney corrected when Spencer's arms started to drop down to the floor.
Spencer moved his gun back into position and tried to focus on the target. It was becoming increasingly more difficult when he could feel Delaney's holster pressing into his back from where Delaney was standing against him. He shifted closer to the counter and tried to move his hip forward and away from Delaney's hand only to find that Delaney was moving with him. His mouth was opening to firmly request that Delaney step away when Delaney moved back slightly on his own.
"Good, Spencer. Go ahead and put on your mufflers and we'll get started," Delaney said as he set the timer in the booth.
He placed his gun down and reached for his mufflers, trying to ignore the way his hands were shaking. There was no way he was going to hit the target like this. He breathed out heavily through his nose as he tried to find the calm place in his mind that Gideon had described when he first started teaching Spencer.
"You seem nervous. Is this your first time qualifying?" Delaney asked, the slight quirk of a smile back again.
"No," Spencer said firmly. "I've been an agent for three years."
"Good. Just try to relax," Delaney placed his hand on Spencer's shoulder again and leaned in. "We'll make sure you get there."
Spencer put his mufflers over his ears, not quite able to say why exactly the shaking in his hands seemed worse now even when Delaney stepped back again to put on his own mufflers and safety glasses.
The buzzer, loud enough to be heard through the mufflers, sounded and Spencer picked up his gun and sighted toward the paper target. All thoughts of what Hotch and Gideon had taught him had fled from his mind leaving him with the memory of Delaney's body too close to his and Delaney's hand on his arm. Spencer kept shooting even though he felt like he could barely see the target at all, let alone the outlines with the numbers he was supposed to be aiming for.
When the buzzer signaled the end of his time, Spencer lowered his gun and pulled his mufflers down to rest around his neck. He didn't need to see the target to know that he hadn't passed. He'd honestly be surprised if he hit the dark silhouette at all.
Delaney called the target sheet forward with the switch on the side of the booth, making a small sound of disappointment when he examined it. With the target right in front of him Spencer could see where the majority of his shots had gathered above the shoulders on either side of the figure. From the number of holes in the paper at least two of his shots had missed the sheet entirely. There was only one hit, on the shoulder directly in the K2/D4 zone.
He'd failed. Spencer couldn't remember the last time he'd failed a test - a test that mattered at least, because most of the physical qualification tests they'd made exceptions for him or reduced what he was required to do. He couldn't believe he'd actually failed. His was heart beating hard in his chest and Spencer looked down at the gun he was still holding, the gun he was no longer qualified to use.
"Well, not quite there, is it?" Delaney asked as he frowned thoughtfully at the target.
Spencer closed his eyes and turned his head away slightly. It was going to be bad enough when Morgan heard about it, he'd undoubtedly have something suitably embarrassing to say about Spencer's failure, but he didn't need the evaluating agent to rub it in too.
"But, we can fix this," Delaney said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. His hand was on Spencer's shoulder again, his fingers digging in slightly against his collar bone.
His eyes popped open, the sick feeling surging back into his stomach. He really wanted out of the firing range and not just because he was humiliated by his failure. "We can?" Spencer asked against his better judgement. He wanted to have passed his qualifications and maybe Delaney was willing to give him a second chance; he didn't think so, but maybe something could go right for once.
"Sure," Delaney moved closer, his chest now against the back of Spencer's arm and side. "I fill out the form saying you've passed, you get to keep your gun, and you get to come home with me for the evening. Maybe put that pretty mouth of yours to use."
Spencer felt a rush of cold through his entire body as his mind scrambled to keep up with what he was hearing. Delaney's hand had slipped forward and was tracing Spencer's collar bone through his shirt. There was no way this was happening on the firing range in Quantico.
Recognizing the rationalization for what it was, Spencer turned his body and slipped out of Delaney's grasp. "No," he said. His voice was quieter and less forceful than he would have liked, but at least it was audible. He left the room, the sound of his shoes against the floor echoing as he tried not to let his quick steps turn into an outright run. Outside of the range he handed over his gun to the officer on duty and signed it into the armory. He left the safety glasses and mufflers behind and went directly up to the BAU bullpen, aware that at least some of the numbness he was feeling was shock. Anywhere in Quantico was better than being by the firing range, even if that meant facing the scrutiny of his teammates.
They'd been back from Des Moines for nearly a week when Hotch ordered him back down to the firing range. The marks Hotch left on his torso were nearly gone, now just a yellowish green tinge that was starting to fade back into his natural skin tone. The only reason Spencer was actually showing up, and five minutes late at that, was because there was still a hint of guilt in Hotch's expression when he looked at him. Spencer figured that if he could actually manage to pass his firearm qualification, and let Hotch help him, then it would possibly erase some of that guilt. Not that having a gun would have really helped them against Phillip Dowd and had actually helped them in the end, though he wasn't sure Hotch would ever see it that way.
Spencer walked into the firing range, carrying his mufflers and safety glasses along with Hotch's secondary gun that he'd insisted Spencer keep. Hotch was already waiting there, his safety glasses already on but the mufflers sitting on the counter. He was at the same place where Delaney had tested him. Spencer stopped outside of Hotch's range of reach and tried to appear as reassuring as possible. Hotch knew that he wasn't holding any hurt feelings over the incident in the emergency room, or at least Spencer had assured him of that, but he knew enough about Hotch to know that there would be some doubts for a week or two. Spencer didn't want to do anything to undermine whatever understanding they'd gained in the evening after the event.
"You really don't have to do this," Spencer said, even as he slipped on the safety glasses and settled the mufflers around his neck.
"We know you can make the shot, now all you have to do is prove it," Hotch said simply as he picked up his own mufflers and gestured to the fresh target hanging in the distance. "Just remember-"
"Front sight, trigger press, follow through," Spencer said automatically. "Believe me, I don't think I'll ever forget." He smiled a little to take any sting out of the words.
"I'd imagine not," Hotch agreed as he settled the mufflers over his ears.
Spencer put his own mufflers on and picked up the gun, steadying himself to sight and fire.
"You'll be able to retest in a week, we'll have you ready by then and this won't be an issue anymore. The problem is that we haven't been keeping your skills practiced beyond what you need to pass qualifications, but we can keep working on them until it's not going to be a concern in the future," Hotch said, moving so that he was standing behind Spencer.
He was holding the gun ready to fire, already focused on the sight with the target visible in the distance. Spencer knew he could make this shot, he'd hit Dowd from a much worse angle and with his wrists bound together. But that didn't mean he could pass qualifications; there was no way he could go back into a room with Delaney and let him stand so close to him again. The realization struck him hard and Spencer found his hands lowered with the gun loose in his grasp.
"Spencer?" Hotch asked, his mufflers off and moving around Spencer in concern.
"I can't pass the firearms qualifications," Spencer said numbly as he pushed off his mufflers. Hearing the words out loud made them seem more real.
Hotch frowned, his expression more concerned than anything else, and took off his safety glasses. "I know that firing a gun the first time after you've-"
"It's not that," Spencer corrected quickly. He hadn't even been thinking about Dowd.
"Alright," Hotch agreed uncertainly. "You've passed the qualifications before, why do you think you can't now?"
Spencer licked his lips, on the verge of telling Hotch what Delaney had said even if it meant receiving his derision or disappointment. He was an FBI agent and should have been able to handle it far better than he had. He'd spent the better part of the week thinking about it, thinking about what he could have done in that moment, what he might have done if they hadn't immediately gone out on a case. But Spencer's mind was working more quickly than the rest of him and when he opened his mouth to speak he was caught off-guard by what came out. "Agent Delaney isn't the only agent who evaluates firearms qualifications, is he? He wasn't at any of my other qualifications."
"Agent Delaney was recently transferred to the post, so he does most of the firearms qualifications," Hotch said as he observed Spencer. "Do you believe that he tested you unfairly?"
Spencer gave a short huff of laughter and pressed his hand to his mouth before he could stop himself. "No, I failed pretty spectacularly. I think I did a better job my first time shooting than I did a week ago." He took off his safety glasses and set them aside, wondering what it would take to track down the agent who had evaluated his qualifications before. He was reasonably sure that he could pass qualifications if it was someone other than Delaney in the room with him.
Hotch frowned. "Why?"
"What?" Spencer looked up from where he had mentally been planning to look for records to see who else he might get to observe his qualifications.
"Why did you fail so badly?" Hotch clarified.
Spencer set down the gun and was disconcerted to see a slight tremor in his hands. "I was nervous. Agent Delaney was standing too close to me and he was a little late and I got nervous and," he stopped himself abruptly. If he'd been watching himself in a mirror, profiling himself, he'd have known that he'd said too much as soon as he'd mentioned Delaney. As it was he knew he'd already said enough that Hotch wouldn't be able to let it go.
Sure enough Hotch had the expression he used when he was talking to a witness; concerned, empathetic, and hell bent on getting the information he wanted. "And?" he asked quietly.
"And he offered to pass me if I went home with him that night," Spencer said reluctantly. He turned away before adding, "he said something about putting my 'pretty mouth' to use."
Hotch stiffened beside him, suddenly all hard lines and angry muscle. "You said he was standing too close to you? That was before you fired?"
"Yes," Spencer said. He focused on where his hands were tracing the details of the gun on the counter so he didn't have to look at Hotch.
"How close?" Hotch asked, his voice hard.
Spencer swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the quiet hoarse quality his voice had taken on. "Up against me. He had his hand on my shoulder and on my hip." He made himself stop before he added please don't tell Gideon.
Hotch made a motion as if he was reaching for Spencer but stopped himself and placed his hand next to his on the counter instead. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen again, to anyone. Someone else will observe your qualifications and I will be there as well. Did you want to practice shooting today or shall we save that until later?"
"Later," Spencer answered after a quick glance at Hotch. He almost didn't want to know what Hotch was going to do; it was rare to see him actually display obvious signs of anger.
"I'm just going to make sure Delaney isn't in a position of authority any longer and not with the at all bureau if I can help it. People who would use their position to coerce others do not belong here," Hotch said, his voice softening slightly.
Spencer nodded, mostly relieved that Hotch wasn't going to hunt Delaney down like an unsub, but a little disappointed that Delaney wasn't going to know what it was like to be frozen and afraid as he had been.
"Why don't we go back to my office? I can make a call to arrange a meeting from there," Hotch suggested, picking up his belongings and pausing for Spencer to do the same.
"Right," Spencer said as he took the gun Hotch had given him and collected the glasses and mufflers. The last thing he wanted to do was go make a report about Delaney. Once that was done the rest of the team would invariably find out what had happened; the FBI gossip chain was surprisingly efficient.
As he followed Hotch back through the building, Spencer tried to decide whether it was worse when the rest of the team had just thought he was incapable of shooting a simple paper target or now that they'd know he couldn't even protect himself from fellow FBI agents inside a federal building. He was still trying to decide as he sat across from Hotch's desk and listened as he made the call to the Director of the BAU.
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