Introduction/Author's Note
I will try to keep this brief, because I know these things are irritating. This story was the product of me getting stuck in a rut in my novel. The original character here is from there, and her background happened to fit quite nicely in to the idea that if they took JJ out of the BAU for the Pentagon, wouldn't they at least consider taking somebody out of the Pentagon for the BAU? And she's not happy about it either...
Comments, criticism, etc. welcome. I spend a lot of time writing just for myself and my editor, but when I get stuck it's better to be writing ANYTHING than to not be writing at all. This also isn't beta'd, but if you'd like to volunteer, message me!
/end
Kicking & Screaming
Chapter 1
It was another cliché morning commute in the metro – the day bright and sunny in the distance, but separate from my bubble as I exited the Pentagon metro station, fumbling in my bag for my CAC as I followed the covered walkway to my entrance.
"Morning, Leila." A young man in dress blues commented. The medal on his chest caught a stray ray of sun that made it through the scaffolding, and I blinked.
"Good morning, lieutenant." I said, pulling my lanyard successfully from the depths of my tote bag.
"You've really got to get yourself a smaller bag." He teased as we waved our badges at the security guard, passing the visitor's entrance. The line wove back and forth outside the door, and a small group was already gathering for the first guided tour at 9.
"Looks like you're going to have a rough day." I jerked my head at the line.
"Is there ever an easy day?"
"I swear if that intern from that blog calls me one more time..." I trailed off, shaking my head as we headed towards the PAO offices.
"I'm meeting Jacobs for breakfast before the staff meeting, but I'll see you around the office at some point."
"Don't have too much fun, Richards."
"Yes ma'am."
I smiled as we broke apart, stepping in to the public affairs suite and sliding my blackberry out of my pocket.
"Ahmed, the director needs to see you." The enlisted photographer I worked with was sitting at his desk, focused on something on the wide computer screen. The blue light of his card reader blinked on the corner of his desk, and from the side of his computer half his face showed on the common access card stuck in. I drew my eyebrows together subconsciously, my attention drifting away from my phone.
"Did he say what for?" I set my bag down on my desk, slipping in to the blazer I had draped over my forearm and kicking my sneakers under my chair in favor of the work heels I had stashed there.
"No."
"Alright, thanks." I said, readjusting my ID so it pinned flat on my coat and heading across the suite to where our director sat.
"Sir?" I knocked on the door, sticking my head around the corner.
"Leila! Please, come in, shut the door." He spun away from his computer screen, folding his hands on his desk. I could see my personal file on his desk. Oh, crap.
The news he delivered wasn't expected, but the meeting played out as they always did.
They wanted me out, today.
"But this isn't a rotational position, sir. Am I being involuntarily reassigned?" I played the cuff of my jacket between my fingertips. I got the feeling that this was coming from far above his head, and I pulled in every ounce of diplomacy to not lose it.
"You never signed a contract when you came in to this department, so we can't force you anywhere. But leadership has made it clear that this is your next step if you want to remain with the DoD, or even in government service at all."
"It's not even an inter-departmental transfer! FBI is controlled by the DoJ." I exclaimed, half a complaint.
"I understand, Leila, and to be frank with you, you have options. You could easily leave for consulting or contracting. But voluntary separation means you will lose your career conditional status and reinstatement benefits."
"I don't see what choice I have then, sir."
"We will certainly miss you around here. But I think spending time in domestic will be good for you. The other two agents involved in this rotation are very talented, I think it's a good sign that you were earmarked for this assignment. It means somebody in the executive branch has their eye on you."
"I'll take this down to personnel and get the transfer started, sir." I said, leaning forward to grab the form and standing up. My eyes caught on the corner of the paper. "This says my transfer is effective the 17th... that's tomorrow."
"That's correct."
"I... I have several projects in progress, plus that press conference..." I faltered.
"You'll be in communication for several weeks with your replacement, as well as the agent you're replacing. This has gotten a bit more complicated than was intended, from what I gather, so they need you in place right away."
"It is what it is." I shrugged, extending my hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you in support of the warfighter, sir."
His handshake matched my firmness, and we locked eyes for a moment.
"Best of luck, Leila. You've always been a spitfire, and I don't think anything will deter your career from where you want it to be. I'm sure I will see you again."
"Sir?" I lingered in the doorway to his office, the file in my hand. He looked at me expectantly. "I may be going, but I'm going kicking and screaming."
tbc.
