Morgan couldn't stand seeing Reid all beat up - and by Hotch no less - so he offered to be of some assistance. He figured Reid might like to know what he could do if he found himself with a crazy-ass narcissist again. Or Hotch, while he was trying to win one's trust.

"Come on, Doc. I won't be too rough. I swear," Morgan promised.

He knew there was no reason Reid should believe him, especially after he made fun of him for failing his firearms qualification. But all the more reason for Reid to take him up on this. If he ever found himself unarmed again, he could have something to fall back on. Sure, Morgan knew they were all trained in basic strategies at the academy, but he also had it on good authority that Reid had failed every single thing dependent on physical ability. His genius and skill at the job were the reasons he was here at all.

"Fine," Reid sighed.

That's how they ended up at the gym late one night. On mats, at Reid's insistence, because he didn't want more injuries than the minor ones he already had.

Morgan took a deep breath and smiled.

Reid wrinkled his nose. "I'm glad you're getting pleasure out of this. It smells like sweaty athletic clothes in here."

"That's the smell of ladies and gentleman at work. Pumping iron. Getting strong. That's what you're gonna smell like, come the end of tonight…" Morgan grinned.

Reid pursed his lips. "I highly doubt that."

"First thing's first," Morgan said, rubbing his hands together. "When you hear a shot and you're not prepared for it? You hit the deck. Understand?" The memory of earlier that week, in the park, when they all got shot at was clear in Morgan's mind. The way he'd needed to awkwardly tackle Reid so he didn't get hit, still left his heart racing. He didn't need to be worried about losing teammates.

"Excuse me?" Reid asked, wrinkling his brow, clearly confused.

Morgan sighed, exasperated already. "Doc, you know what? Take your damn sweater off and that knapsack, too, all right?"

Reid obeyed, feeling exposed in just a collared shirt and corduroy pants. "Now what's this about a deck?"

"Okay." Morgan said, trying with all his might to keep his patience. "If you hear a shot, and you're out somewhere, like we were at the park? Get down. As soon as possible." He clapped his hands sharply by Reid's ear, indicating a shot.

Reid stumbled, getting to his knees first and then to his belly, and then covering his head. The whole process took an agonizing ten seconds or so.

"Okay, by now? You're too late," Morgan explained and then demonstrated how to drop to the ground when your life depended on it. "Like this."

So, they practiced. Morgan had to give the Doc credit for determination. Soon, though, he decided they had better move onto other stuff or else they'd be here all night working on duck-and-cover maneuvers. He was going to have to go basic-basic, if he wanted any of this to stick.

"Punch me," Morgan said, and stood right in front of Reid.

"You haven't done anything to me," Reid objected, looking longingly at his sweater and satchel near the door.

"I don't care! Just punch me! Make it real! Pretend I pissed you off. Like, earlier, with the whistle. I'm trying to teach you something here."

Reid tried to conjure the exchange in his mind. Sure, it angered him, but he would never throw a punch over it. That was just plain ignorant, especially when he was him and Morgan was…well…Morgan. It wasn't logical. But Reid figured he might as well try and threw a half-hearted punch in Morgan's direction.

"Okay. That was… I mean…" Morgan faltered. "That was good… No, you know what? That was not good. Watch me. I'm not gonna actually hit you, all right? Just watch." Morgan demonstrated the correct way to throw a punch and waited for the light bulb to light above the genius's head.

"What's the difference?" Reid asked, honest-to-God serious.

"Okay. The difference is, I'm getting my power through the ground. I'm letting it travel through the ground, up through my leg and into my arm. When you throw a punch, don't just punch with your arm. There's not a lot of power there. Watch me," he paused and clarified. "Watch my whole body. Not just my arm."

Reid concentrated, and finally saw that Morgan was pivoting with his right leg, to give his right arm some added velocity. It made sense. "You're pivoting," he said, as if this were a test. In a way, it was. Without it, he would be defenseless if he failed his qualification again - and with history the way it had been… Let's just say the odds weren't in his favor.

"Yes. Now you try," Morgan encouraged.

They worked on that until Reid was breathless and had broken out into a sweat.

"Just one more thing," Morgan assured. "Then we'll call it a night."

Nodding, Reid tried his best not to look as completely exhausted as he felt, especially when Morgan remained so relaxed and happy. As if he was used to this, and it really wasn't difficult in the slightest.

"Show me that first punch again," Morgan prompted.

Skeptically, Reid feigned a weak punch, with no power whatsoever behind it.

"When you punch, you don't want to push, understand? You want speed and power. So you want to retract as fast as possible. The more you punch. The more power you accumulate." He demonstrated and then waited for Reid to follow suit, but he simply stood there, at a loss.

Morgan took Reid over to a punching bag and held it steady. "This is an unsub. He's trying to kill you. Got it? Go!"

It took a few minutes to get into a rhythm, but Reid got the hang of it sooner than he expected. It felt refreshing to be able to do something to protect himself rather than relying on a gun or solely on other members of the team. He was so focused, Reid didn't notice when the bag was moved aside. The next series of punches hit Morgan square in the mouth.

"I am so sorry. I didn't notice…" Reid trailed off, horrified that he actually had made Morgan bleed. This was more terrifying than being in a room alone with Hotch and Phillip Dowd any day. Hotch, at least, had his back. Now, he'd angered a black belt in Judo. Reid winced. He knew what was coming.

But Morgan surprised him, smiling in spite of the blood. "That," he said, "is how you throw a punch."