Previous: Survivor's Guilt

There was a reason Gabriella was still bartending two years out of college. She had found out rather quickly that her degree was completely useless. With the notoriety of her last name, the nationwide coverage of her family's murder…Gabriella hadn't been a minor. Her name wasn't withheld to protect her privacy. No one wanted the daughter of one of the country's most notorious mafia dons to go anywhere near the field of criminal justice.

This sort of experience was nothing new and even though she was still going to get to shoot, the static was hovering at the threshold of tolerability, sticking out past the edge every so often like a child testing their limits. Static. Shhhhhhhhhhh…

Sound. Her fingers were clenched in fists opting to focus on Seeley. Turn and smile…turn and smile….static. Seeley…She swallowed audibly. He had just gotten back and of course, her body chose now to have a prolonged anxiety attack. Seeley, please turn and smile. It's all worth it to see you smile. She couldn't speak.

Hold it together Gabi…if you can't get back from the static everything is going to be raw. Hold it together. He'll run if he sees you deconstructing. You're at a gun range for heaven's sake! He works here. If you melt down it's going to look bad on him.

Her eyes closed and she shuddered.

GABRIELLA LUCIA MAGDALENA CARMICHAEL!!! She blinked and took a deep breath in. Smile. Chin move down. Now up. Lips. Open. Tongue. Form words. “A moment please!” She gasped.

Her words as he was setting up ready for her caught his attention. Panic. She's lost it. Grab her, bring her back, make her focus. Give her something good to focus on.

He turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders. Contact. Focus.
His smile, his smouldering eyes, the slight tilt of his head, all in place, what she needed from him. Look. Focus.
He lifted his right hand off her shoulder, cupping her chin, making her eyeline look him direct in the eyes. View. Focus.
“Look at me, Gabi.” A firm, controlling, commanding tone. Plenty of experience with that. Applied differently. Voice. Focus.

Unspoken. Come back to me.

Her eyes stared into his and it was the longest they had been able to look in one another's eyes. Those hazel eyes, almost light honey brown. Her black limbal rings. Static. Sssshhhhh… His own eyes in her own. Smoldering. For her. Look at the way he's looking at you, Gabi. His smile…that smile. His smile. She breathed in as he cupped her chin, held her in place.

His voice clearly left no room for the static in her nerves to grow on. To anyone who might have looked in, it looked like the two were sharing a tender moment. And they were, really. Even his voice on his voicemail had helped her calm down. And in person? Her eyes began to lose the frantic quality they had. For him…she would have done anything he asked of her.

Or commanded.

Breath. A nod. “It's bearable now…thank you, Seeley..” She whispered.

He held her chin for a few moments hearing, her words. Focus. A fraction longer than needed. Focus. Then, released his hand. His demeanor softened slightly, no longer commanding her attention, but his smile and smoldering dark brown eyes remained focused on her for a few more moments. “You're welcome, Gabriella.” Back to the name he normally called her. Normal. Normal is good.

He took that as an agreement she was ready. He'd brought her back to readiness, so he was prepared to start teaching her. Start small. Glock. Similar to her VP9, start slow.

He looked over his shoulder at her as he picked up the weapon in his right hand, forefinger against the frame. He stopped looking at her for the few seconds he needed to check the weapon, pulling back the slide, checking inside, popping the magazine, checking the load, sliding it back in and making sure everything was ready to go. Then back to her, keeping the weapon pointed downrange.

It was all far too long when he needed to be sure she was safe. Especially after that.

Again. “Ready?” He had to be sure.

He had called her Gabi. And then she back to Gabriella. Granted, she liked the way he spoke her name, but it felt like they'd gone from being connected back to…less connected.

She smiled when he picked up the Glock, watching him prepare it for her. “Ready.” Her eyes flicked to his again as she waited for his word to take the gun, fingers ready to be kept away from the trigger.

Little did she know he was going to assist her.

He placed his left hand over the slide and held the gun out in front of her. “I'm assuming you know how to fire a gun, so I won't explain everything to you. Only correct you if I see you don't something wrong, or bad, understand?” He dropped into rangemaster mode without a thought. “Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire.”

He waited to let her wrap her hand around the grip. “This one has a little more kick than your VP9 but should feel roughly familiar. Go ahead. Take your time. Empty it.” 15 rounds. It would give him a chance to see her form so he could help. Also to give her something to focus on. He was going to watch her like a hawk.

She wrapped her hand around the grip and then brought her other hand to partially wrap around it, her right pointer finger laying along the barrel. She brought the gun in slightly, just enough to eye it. She stood feet apart, her knees unlocked.

Let me out.

The static was snuffed out and her gaze grew hard as she stared at the target. She brought the gun up in line with her path of vision, arms straight, her eyes trained down the barrel of the gun.

Let me out.

The eyes that gazed at Seeley with such tender adoration now stared at the paper target, cold, hard, hatred. One could easily guess who she was picturing.

Let me out.

The right finger shifted to curl and hover, and she wasn't Gabi anymore. Well…she was still Gabi. But gone was the nervous, thrumming static that almost ruled her life constantly unless she was running or firing a gun.

Let. Me. Out.

She pulled the trigger, measured the kick it gave versus her VP9, adjusted her aim and fired again. She was missing the circles on the silhouette's torso. Every damn time. By the time she fired the fifth, she had adjusted. Her upper lip twitched in the hint of a snarl as she held her posture, her stance trained to stay once she'd found her groove. She barely moved, but the gun kept firing.

Then it was empty and she laid it down carefully on the little shelf as the machine brought the target up. If Seeley caught a look at it before she tore it down and crumpled it…

All but those first five were clustered dead between where the eyes were.

How often had she killed Big Ange in her mind over the past two years?

Seeley watched every motion she made. The nerves. The shifting. The confident grip, stance, aim. She knew what she was doing. Then, fired. The change in her attitude after the fifth. One thing caught his attention about her technique. It was almost, almost perfect. Not quite, he could use that.

Then he saw the target. Tracking up from the bottom, he noted the first five. That would be when her attitude shifted. Tiny grouping between the eyes. That shift made sense. There was a reason she carried. Given what she said earlier, he figured he had an inkling.

“Good form, just one thing you could do better.” The way she pulled the trigger. There was an element of a snatch. It pulled the grouping a fraction up and to the right. Not enough to change the effect it would have on a real target, and barely noticeable. Many years of experience pointed it out to him.

“Reload, let me teach you, Gabriella.” Firm, commanding. He tried to shift it slightly from what he would use to teach newbies, to the point where she reacted to him. It was hard, but he managed it. He didn't want her to run. He wanted to guide her, help her.

Make her better.

Hold her.

Never let go.

She didn't speak. She couldn't speak when she was like this. Her teeth ground briefly against themselves, as though she had dissociated. But no…she loved going to the range, spoke of firing her gun. People who dissociated didn't normally -remember-. It was as though all her anger, hurt, grief, and hatred were all struggling against invisible….

Cognitive compartmentaliziation. To deal with cognitive dissonance. Gabi was a sweetheart. But this woman standing in anger, grief, and hatred had lost her entire family in one day. She'd had to accept 'protection' from the man she -knew- killed them all. She hadn't been spared the gruesome pictures. They'd been leaked, and she had the bodies of her family shoved in her face every time she passed a newsstand.

This woman had been so angry and filled with hatred that she would have no problems shooting Big Ange with a smile on her face. Just him though. Not anyone else. But Gabi…while she admired Seeley and his line of work, killing wasn't something -she- wanted to do.

No wonder she had such pervasive anxiety. She knew she was walking around with a part of her that wanted to kill the man who butchered her family, and before he could ever have the privilege of his day in court.

Had his voice been any less firm or commanding she would have growled at him. As it stood there rumbled a light hint of one. Gabi was still in control of herself, but it took all her focus, and so she didn't speak.

She reloaded, and waited for his next command.

There was something hidden under the surface. She was non-verbal, even that hint of a growl was something rough under the sweet surface. He knew what she'd been through, how someone leaked the images. He even scared that reporter to within an inch of their life because of how it would affect those involved. Sweets was both grateful and annoyed at him for that one.

She stayed in the stance she'd taken up, holding the gun down as she reloaded. How to help? How to keep her focused? Maybe…

He walked behind her, placing his eyeline along the same as hers. Don't be the rangemaster, Booth, be her friend, her mentor, her… There's a word that should go there. Tip of the metaphorical tongue. Can't quite place it. Ugh, come back to that later.

“Bring your gun up, take your firing stance again. But keep your finger off the trigger, Gabi.” Huh… That felt better than calling her Gabriella… He was in that zone again. Focus.

He moved up behind her, then squatted down slightly to place his chin on her shoulder, his torso against her back, his arms around her, along hers, holding her. First embrace. Maybe. Not how he'd pictured it. Maybe she'd run. Maybe she'd hide. Maybe. Keep going.

“When you fire, don't just pull. Caress. Like you would a…” He was going to say 'woman'. Was that insensitive? She was the first he'd actually thought about the word. “Man…” He almost said something else there. Patience, Seeley.

“Try again, Gabi. Three rounds.” He'd stopped being Rangemaster Seeley, started being her… Her… Fuck, there's that word again… Friend? Confidante? Partner? Father figure? Big brother? Nothing felt right…

Break out.
No no don't.
I don't answer to him.
I WANT TO, NOW DO WHAT HE SAYS!
Fine.
Part of her gave the slightest shift back into him without breaking her stance. Briefly.
Another part of her wanted to push him away.
Don't you dare.
Make him earn it.
Earn what?! Wait. He said Gabi. Focus.

She lifted the gun again, finger off the trigger. His chin was on her shoulder….focus. Oh god, he was holding her. He hadn't held her since the day in the alley…focus.

But then he spoke and Gabi eased her stance, though she didn't break his hold. No. She melted in against him. “Seeley.” She said softly. “That…doesn't help me. Believe it or not, your 24-year-old girlfriend is a virgin. Mob princess, remember?” She said softly.

You called yourself his girlfriend, Gabi.

I wish I could call myself his something else.
His what?
I don't know…it's right there…

Seeley chuckled quietly, barely any sound, but he was so close to her ear that she would hear it. He'd had exactly the effect he'd expected on her.

Next: Panic Station