AN: This story is a sequel to The Whistle, which is based on the bit from the episode LDSK where Morgan gives Reid a whistle after failing his requalification. I'd recommend reading the first story, though you can probably follow this one without doing so. This story is set in season 5 sometime after Public Enemy. Enjoy!

It was nearing quitting time for the agents of the FBI's BAU. Quitting time on Monday, March 29th to be exact. Around him, other agents and employees of the unit were either chatting, wasting the last few minutes of the work day, making plans, or finishing up last minute tasks. It was a familiar routine, from which SSA Spencer Reid took solace in, especially after the events he and his team had been through over recent moths. He was back to full duty having gotten rid of even the cane though his doctor had still warned him to take things easy. Hotch was back in charge of the team following the hunt for Foyet, the inquiry into his actions and Haley's funeral. Reid was sure his boss was still coping with the changes in his personal life, but having him back professionally seemed to set things right here at the BAU. The only thing that hadn't gone back to normal was the still empty desk across from him and Prentiss.

"Hey Morgan," Prentiss said, from her desk, bringing Reid out of his thoughts. "Got any plans for this evening?"

"No," Morgan replied, his jacket on, clearly ready to leave for the day. "Why?" he asked, as he made his way into the bullpen and over toward their desks.

"I wanted to get some practice in at the range and wanted some company. Was wondering if you wanted to join me, maybe get some practice in for you own requalification?"

"Not that I need the practice to pass on Thursday, but I will join you," Morgan replied.

~Don't be so sure of that, ~ Reid told himself.

"Oh, feeling cocky, are we?" Prentiss replied, slyly.

"It's confidence not cockiness. It's not like I've got Reid's aim."

"Hey! How did I get dragged into this conversation?" Reid exclaimed. "I passed my last requalification, thank-you very much."

"Yeah, by what? Two shots?" Morgan asked lightly, a smile lighting up his smooth features.

"Three," Reid replied, feeling his cheeks grow warm as he crossed his arms across from him. Any guilt at all about what he had planned with the help of JJ evaporated. The only thing left to do was to convince Hotch to be a co-conspirator, and Reid had a feeling it wouldn't be hard to get the unit chief to play along. ~It's definitely time some of the jokes around here were directed at Morgan for a change, ~ Reid thought.

"Maybe you should come join us," Prentiss suggested, trying hard not to laugh but unable to keep the smile off of her face.

"I've got other things I need to do," Reid told her.

"Looks like it's just you and me then," Prentiss said, looking at Morgan as she got to her feet. "Want to make a competition of it?" the dark-haired agent asked.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Loser buys dinner afterwards."

"You're on," Morgan replied. "See ya tomorrow, Kid," Morgan said as he and Emily headed toward the elevator.

Reid said good-bye to both of his teammates. He then waited until the elevator doors had blocked them from sight and got to his feet, making his way toward Hotch's office. The door was open, and the unit chief was unsurprisingly engrossed in paperwork. Reid knocked on the open door.

Hotch looked up from his work to see his youngest agent standing in the doorway.

"Do you have a few minutes?" Reid asked, tentatively.

"Of course," Hotch replied, closing the open folder as he glanced at the time. He had promised Jack he would get home early tonight so they could watch a movie together. Reid's appearance was good timing, as he had lost all track of time. As soon as he was done discussing whatever it was the younger agent had on his mind, he would call it a night and head home. "What's on your mind?" he asked, puzzled and a bit worried at the fact that Reid closed the door as he walked in.

"I need your help with something," Reid said, as he made his way over to his boss's desk, and sat down across from him.

"What is it?" Hotch asked.

"A bit of payback for Morgan," Reid said, as he pulled a silver whistle on a blue cord out of his pocket. He held it up to see if his boss recognized its significance. The small rare smile that came to Hotch's face told the younger agent that he did.

"What do you have in mind and what do you need me to do?" Hotch asked, sure that the younger agent had probably planned his revenge out well.

Thursday, April 1st found Reid at his desk on the sixth floor of the building that housed the BAU at nine fifteen in the morning. JJ was currently in a conference with Hotch, which probably meant they were discussing a case. Prentiss was talking with Garcia, the blonde tech perched on the edge of the other woman's desk. Rossi was in his office on the phone with someone. The only member of the team not present was Morgan and Reid had a feeling he would be showing up in short order. ~And not in a good mood, if the email I received is any indication, ~ Reid thought.

"What's up with you?" Prentiss asked.

"Nothing, why?" Reid asked, looking across the partition at her.

"You look like the proverbial cat that just got the canary."

"I'm in a good mood today. Isn't that allowed?"

"Does that mean we need to check salt shakers, sugar containers, and toilet seats before we sit down today?" Prentiss asked, remembering that it was April Fool's Day.

"Don't forget not to accept any doughnuts he offers," Garcia said, recalling the ketchup filled doughnuts from the year before.

"And the toilet seats were Morgan, not me," Reid added. "But you needn't fear this year. I can safely say that the two of you are safe from any April Fool's Day shenanigans I may or may not have in play."

"Does that mean you are plotting something?" Prentiss asked.

Reid just shrugged his shoulders as the glass door leading into the bullpen opened up. Morgan strode across the area in the direction of his office, his usually easy-going smile nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning, Morgan," Garcia called out.

"How did the qualification go?" Prentiss asked.

"Don't ask!" came Morgan's gruff reply as he didn't break his stride.

"Was he not wearing his gun?" Garcia asked, concerned by the lack of greeting her own good morning had gotten as well as his terse reply to Emily's question.

"I don't think he was," Prentiss replied, knowing what that would mean. She looked back across at Reid with a questioning look.

"I wasn't paying attention," Reid replied, looking at his computer screen.

The two women went back to discussing the implications of Morgan's mood and lack of a service weapon, speculating what had happened. Reid pretended to be absorbed in his work for a little while and then feeling that he had given Morgan enough time to stew, got to his feet. It was long before Reid was standing in the doorway of his friend's office.

"I take it from your mood that your requalification didn't go so well?" Reid ventured, as he leaned against the door jam.

"Something isn't right. There is no way I didn't make a passing score not after I didn't miss a shot last evening when Prentiss and I were at the range."

"It's not the end of the world. You can requalify in two weeks."

Morgan muttered something that Reid wasn't quite able to understand. Reaching into his pocket, Reid pulled out the whistle. "Here you may need this more than me," he said evenly, putting the whistle up to his mouth and giving it a quick blow. "Still works," the young genius added before tossing the whistle onto Morgan's desk.

Morgan looked up at Reid's amused smile. He could tell the younger agent was enjoying his little joke, which only irritated him more than the earlier events of the morning already had. The dark-skinned agent reached out for the whistle, and picking it up tossed it back in Reid's direction. Not even attempting to catch the flying object, Reid moved out of the whistle's path. The little silver object flew past him, and landed in the corridor outside the office, next to a pair of shiny black shoes.

In the hallway, Hotch bent down and picked up the whistle before stepping into the doorway of the office, next to Reid.

"We've got a case," the unit chief told them. "Briefing starts in ten minutes," he added, as he took a step into the office and tossed the whistle back on Morgan's desk. "From the information I just received you may want to hang onto that and if you would like some pointers when we get back I'll be happy to help you before you make your second attempt."

"That won't be necessary," Morgan replied in a clipped tone.

"Well, the offer is out there. See you at the briefing," Hotch told him, turning and leaving the office.

Without a word, Reid turned from Morgan and slipped out of the office, only allowing a smile when he was sure Morgan wouldn't see.

"I feel a little guilty," Prentiss said as she and Morgan walked into the briefing room at the appointed time for the meeting. "Maybe I shouldn't have let you drink that second beer when we were out last night," she said, letting the seriousness of her voice being betrayed by the smile on her face.

"I wasn't hung over this morning!" Morgan exclaimed, causing the eyes of those already gathered in the briefing room to look in their direction.

"I would have stuck with that excuse myself," Rossi said, not moving from his relaxed position as he leaned back in one of the chairs surrounding the table.

"I don't need an excuse because something isn't right. There is no way I could have only scored a sixty-two percent on my qualification this morning."

"Sixty-two?" JJ asked, in disbelief. "I'm with Rossi, I'd claim I was hung-over or suffering from vertigo or something."

"You know there is such a thing as overconfidence," Hotch ventured.

"Hotch is right," Reid said, looking at Morgan who was standing in the doorway of the room, though Prentiss had taken a seat by Rossi. "Social scientists have a term called calibration, which measures the difference between actual and perceived differences. A well-calibrated person is as good as they think they are while a poorly-calibrated person isn't as good as they think they are. A study done at Fort Benning, GA showed that most people tend to be poorly calibrated even when it comes to skills that we need to do our jobs. The soldiers there were asked to predict how they would score with the annual M-16 qualification. Most of the soldiers predicted they would do well but after their actual scores were tallied, seventy-five percent of the soldiers predicted they would hit more targets than they did. One out of four soldiers did so badly that they failed to qualify. A group of about five soldiers was actually the most accurate. These five, the poorest shots of the 153 participating soldiers, predicted they would fail. Of those five, three failed and the other two just barely passed."*

Morgan glared at Reid, not sure what response to make of his latest spout of knowledge. Instead of bothering with any response and giving his teammates any more chances at poking fun at his qualification scores, Morgan looked toward Hotch. "Don't we have a case to brief?"

"Yes we do," Hotch replied, looking toward JJ and giving the blonde a nod.

"A request came in from the Greenville police," JJ said, the remote control in her hand. With a push of the button five pictures, all of them men, came up on the screen. "Since January seven men have gone missing from the Moosehead Lake area. All seven were in the area on vacation, family and friends report that they were all avid fishermen though a few of them also went to the area to ski or snowmobile too. Searches conducted by both the state and local police turned up nothing and all seven were left as open missing cases."

"If this has been going on for the last three months, why call us in now?" Rossi asked.

"Up until yesterday, local law enforcement had no evidence that these missing people were related and then," JJ paused as she pushed another button, changing the view on the screen. Two more pictures appeared on the screen, one of something silver in an ice fishing hole, apparently being held at the surface by a line, the second, the body of a man, dressed in armor, on the frozen surface of the lake. "Yesterday, some ice fishers pulled a body to the surface. Local authorities excavated and ID the body as 32-year-old Evan Langley, one of the seven missing men."

"Any of the other bodies turn up yet?" Prentiss asked.

"No, but authorities are continuing the search. The typical ice fishing season for the region ended yesterday."

"Pack warmly, we're heading for Greenville," Hotch told his team. "Wheels up in forty-five minutes. Reid, I need to see you for a moment."

As the rest of the team got to their feet and left the room, files in hand, Reid hung back. It wasn't long before the two of them walked silently to Hotch's office. Stepping inside, Hotch closed the door and then turned the blinds shut.

"As much as I hate to cut your fun short, especially after all the grief Morgan has given you over the years about your shooting ability, this joke ends when we reach Maine. I'd prefer to have all my agents armed while we're working this case," Hotch said, as he walked over to his desk.

"Yes, sir," Reid replied, as he watched Hotch pull out a key and unlock a drawer on his desk.

"However, I will give you the satisfaction of returning these to their rightful owner when the time comes," Hotch continued, pulling out both of Morgan's guns as well as a file, which he held out to Reid. "Though I wouldn't recommend doing so unsupervised. You may need protection yourself after Morgan sees what his real score was."

Reid opened the file that Hotch had handed him. Morgan's real score from the qualification that morning was a ninety-three percent, well over the passing score. Closing the file, he put it and the guns in his messenger bag. He was going to have to try to steer the conversation on the plane toward getting some openings for some jokes at Morgan's expense and he knew just who to get to help him with that.

JJ stood at the printer as another sheet came through, listening to her teammates as they discussed victimology. As the paper finished printing she glanced at its contents.

"Greenville police have found two more bodies under the ice. Both were from their group of missing tourists," JJ said, as she walked back to her seat next to Hotch. "Both were also wearing the same prop armor that the first victim was found in."

"Definitely the same guy then. Fishermen don't normally go swimming under the ice, in armor," Rossi said.

"And I've got more bad news for you crime fighters," Garcia's voice said, coming over the speakers of the laptop Hotch had opened in front of him. "Another man, Bill Santiago, has been reported missing by his wife in Ohio. Bill apparently was in the Moosehead Lake region fishing. He was due back last night but never showed. His wife tried his cell phone, didn't get an answer, and called the lodge he was staying at. He never checked out, and a search of the room found his belongings still there but no sign of him."

"So we now have a possibility of eight victims," Morgan commented.

"At least it's an indication that the UnSub is still in the area," Hotch said.

"One more piece of bad news," Garcia said. "Cell phone coverage in the Moosehead Lake area can be spotty so don't rely on your cell phones."

"Thanks for the warning," Hotch said.

"You may need that whistle after all, Morgan," Reid ventured, not missing the opportunity to have a bit of fun with his co-worker. "You did bring it right?"

The remark earned Reid an elbow in the side from Morgan as the two of them sat opposite of Hotch and JJ.

"I can look out for myself, gun or no gun," Morgan commented.

"Don't worry, Morgan. Just stick close to me and I'll protect you," Rossi commented from his own seat. "Except of course if we come across a moose, then you're on your own as I'll be running in the opposite direction."

"I always did fairly well during deer season," JJ commented. "I can protect you from the wildlife if you would like," she offered, invoking soft laughter from the others on the plane.

"Great, not only is it going to be cold but I'm also dealing with an UnSub who likes to stick his victims in a frozen lake, a possibility of an attacking moose, team members with a bad sense of humor, and no gun. This case is getting better by the minute," Morgan muttered.

"If I had known you were going to fail your qualification I would have brought my orange hunting jacket with me. At least then we would be able to keep an eye on you without a problem," Rossi commented, generating more laughter from the group.

"Weren't we discussing victimology?" Morgan said, trying to divert attention from himself once again.

As the plane landed at Bangor International Airport, the agents onboard got ready to disembark and make the hour and a half drive to Greenville. Several more jokes had been made at Morgan's expense, and though Reid was enjoying the older agent's annoyance at being the butt of the jokes for a change, he knew it was time to reveal the truth.

As Morgan began to get up from his seat, Reid spoke up.

"Hey, Morgan, hold up a minute," Reid said, causing the older agent to settle back in his seat. Reid had taken the file with Morgan's real qualification scores in it out of his bag.

"What's this?" Morgan asked as he took the folder from Reid.

"Your real qualification scores," Reid replied. "April Fool's."

Morgan opened the folder and saw the results of the qualification. "I knew something wasn't right!" he exclaimed, not sure whether he felt more relieved or angry at his teammate for stringing him along. He looked across the table at Hotch who was also still sitting. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes," Hotch replied simply.

"And you went along with it?" Morgan said incredulously.

Hotch shrugged his shoulders. Already on their feet, Prentiss and Rossi were chuckling softly. Having known about the joke herself, JJ was already busy getting their bags out of storage.

"I had to get Hotch to help so the fake scores wouldn't get into your file," Reid replied. "Also, it was the only way Agent Fields at the range would agree to help me out. He purposely shot the sixty-two percent result which your real qualification paper was replaced with."

"Why you little . . ." Morgan said, letting his voice trail off. As much as he wanted to be mad, he was finding it difficult. After all, he had given the kid quite a bit of grief over the years.

"You might want these," Reid said, reaching back into his bag and pulling out both of Morgan's guns.

"I'd still watch out for the moose if I were you," Rossi quipped, as Morgan, Hotch and Reid all got to their feet.

"Well, if I hang out with you, I won't have to as I'll be running faster than you, so the moose will get you before me."

"Oh, you might be surprised by how fast this old timer can run when properly motivated," Rossi told him, filling the cabin with laughter again.

Hotch smiled. His team needed this bit of levity before they got into the thick of the current case.

The profilers gathered their belongings and disembarked from the plane. The SUVs that JJ had arranged were waiting for them, the agents who had drove them up from Boston standing near a black sedan.

"Hey, Morgan," Reid said, as they walked toward the waiting vehicles. He waited for Morgan to glance at him before continuing. "Where is that whistle anyway?"

"Back in my desk at Quantico," Morgan replied. "Don't worry though, I'll find some way to give it back to you. You may have won this battle, Kid, but the war isn't over," he told the younger agent, a smile lighting up his face.

Reid smiled. He wasn't going to worry about that right now. For now, he was going to enjoy the satisfaction of pulling off his April Fool's Day trick. It was hard to fool a joker, but he had managed to do just that and even though the trick had been revealed, Reid had a feeling their teammates weren't going to stop the jokes about it quite yet.

"Hey Morgan, what was your real score anyway?" JJ asked, as if reading Reid's thoughts.

"I'm not saying," Morgan replied.

"That's because he just barely passed," Prentiss said in a fake whisper.

"We can have another shooting competition when we get back to Quantico, Princess," Morgan replied. "I wouldn't mind being treated to another dinner."

"Not if I have Reid mess with the results for me," Prentiss replied as the group reached the waiting agents and the SUVs that would take them to their next case.

*Info taken from http:/ www. cumanagement. org/article/view/id/We-All-Think-Were-Above-Average