Undercover

Finale

Finale

We both emptied our clips, he finished just seconds before me.

So maybe he really was the best detective.

I watch as he holsters his weapon, waiting for me to holster mine before pressing the button on the wall. Our targets move towards us and stop as soon as they reach within grabbing distance. I watch as he examines his thoroughly, I look over mine, it was alright but not as good as his. He takes my target from me, without saying a word, he compares the two.

He was angry at me.

It was our first day back from Vegas, we'd been pulled from the case. My fault entirely, the fear of him getting hurt had driven me to paranoia beyond belief and I'd tanked the entire thing. He'd been so angry, but I didn't even care at this point. His life was way more important than some damn case, and I'd be the first to tell him this. So, I did. And then he left me.

I hadn't taken it too hard, knowing that he'd come around eventually, I wasn't one to let a small fight like this get to me. I understood why he was mad, and this made it easier for me to cope when he'd left. I didn't even try to explain or reason, after telling him of my dream, he'd been so angry.

"You're joking... Right? Please, please tell me that you're joking." I bit my lip while shaking my head, and I watch as his face turns an even darker shade of red.

"I wish I was," I mutter, all of a sudden realizing that maybe he wouldn't be as forgiving as I thought he'd originally been.

"You threw the case over a dream? A silly dream about me dying??" He runs his hands through his hair, frustration written all over his face.

"You weren't there—"

"OF COURSE, I WASN'T THERE, IT WAS A DREAM!"

"I'm sorry." I reach out, an attempt to calm him down, but he jerks away and I let him go.

"Don't—"

**

"So, tell me why we got kicked off the case again?" He sets the targets down, examining them still.

"My aims off."

"It looks fine to me,"

"No," I motion towards the last three bullet holes in the target, "none of them hit their mark."

"They all hit their mark."

"No, they didn't." I take the target from him and crumple it up, tossing it in the trash can. "I need to practice."

"Garrett,"

"I threw the case because I was too scared that I couldn't protect you when it came down to it. Okay? I threw the case because for days after that damn dream all I could see when I closed my eyes was your bloody body on the bathroom floor. I couldn't sleep, the amount of anxiety I had when we were separated even if it was for a minute was so great, I had to start taking my medicine again. I threw the case because I couldn't handle it. So, yeah, I'm sorry that you're upset, but I'm not sorry that we're not on that case anymore." I reload my weapon, putting my ear protection back in, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to practice."

I empty my weapon again, he's left, and I can finally breathe. I hit the button and my target moves closer.

"Damn it." I examine my target; I'd done even worse this time.

The door to the gun range slams open, and in walks Andrew again, he draws his weapon quickly, aiming at the fresh target next to me. He empties his clip in less than ten seconds and slams the button, he rips his target from the ceiling, slamming it down on the table behind us.