On the silence of the jet, Jane is pulled from checking Emily's reflexes post 4-by-4-to-the-head via the ringing of her phone. She tears her attention away from the raven haired agent, holding up a single finger as she digs through her satchel for the incessant brrrrring.

She doesn't recognize the number.

"Doctor Hart," Jane greets, flicking her phone open.

"Doe," Gideon's voice sounds from the phone, tinny with the distance and the quality of the call. Clearly not from a cell phone. "Jane Doe. Guess it comes full circle then."

"Jay?" Jane asks, straightening up, worried by something in his voice. She gestures to Prentiss to wait and starts to pick her way to the back of the plane - near the cabin in hopes of some semblance of privacy. "We've been trying to get ahold of you all day."

"Don't tell the others," Gideon pleads, voice tight and emotional. "Not even Hotch. Especially not Reid."

"Okay," Jane agrees quickly, concern rising. "Okay. But where are you?"

"Doesn't matter now," he dismisses. "I thought about writing a letter. Like I was going to do for Spencer - like I did for Spencer - but that isn't fair to you."

"Doesn't sound fair to him either, Jay," Jane points out. "Letter for what?"

"A letter to say goodbye."

Jane swallows, leaning her head against the cool side of the cabinets. "Goodbye," she echoes. "So this is how it ends, eh?"

"It comes full circle," Gideon repeats, voice soft. "This is how it began for you and I, didn't it?"

"No, Jay, it began when you and your Italian boyfriend showed up one morning outside my dingy flat in Boston and did your best to pitch to me why this line of work was what I wanted. That the Bureau of all people had the perfect people for me to patch up every day for the rest of my earthbound life," Jane corrects, voice wry and thick. "It began when I socked Dave in the jaw and kicked the both of you out, threatening to press charges."

"But then you called while I was on a plane five months later," Gideon reminds her, a sad smile in his voice. "And you asked me where you needed to put your damn name already."

"I wasn't the same Jane back then," Jane says, tears gathering in her eyes despite herself. "I hoped that I'd be a different one when you left."

"Oh, Doe." Gideon comforts. "You already are.

"So that's it then?" She asks, straightening up and wiping her eyes. "I get a phone call and he gets a letter and we never see you again?"

"Call me when you have a name," Gideon orders gently. "I'd like to know it."

And the phone clicks, dial tone sounding.

Jane stares at the phone numbly, ignoring the eyes of everyone on the plane on her. Profiling her. Suffocating her.

And it's Strauss, with no knowledge of how this team functioned or anything about Jane herself, who breaks the silence. "Dr. Hart?" She asks, genuine - but completely unwelcome - concern in her voice. "Are you alright?"

"With all due respect, Ma'm," Jane finds herself replying, reflexive and biting. "That is none of your damn business."

It's close to 3:00 AM when her doorbell rings, and Jane has to scramble to throw on a long sleeve shirt and long pants before she can even think of answering it. When she does, she doesn't pretend to be surprised at who she sees on her stoop.

"You knew, didn't you?" Reid demands the moment she opens her door, anger radiating from his whippet thin frame. "That call on the plane, the one you snapped at Strauss about. Gideon called you."

"Yes, he did," Jane confirms, leaving the door open and turning back into her apartment, not checking to see if he would follow. "And he wrote you that letter in your pocket because he knew that you would respond like this."

"Like what?" He demands, stung. "Hurt - like any sensible person whose mentor - friend - has abandoned them?"

"Angry," Jane corrects him. "He wrote because he knew you would be angry."

"Of course I'm angry!" Reid spits, bristling. "And why aren't you?"
"Oh, I'm angry," Jane snaps back, feeling her own heat rising. "Don't you dare tell me that I'm not."

"He explained himself to you!" Spencer yells, headless of her neighbors. "He left and called you - you were on the phone for less than five minutes and you didn't ask him anything! You didn't tell any of us anything! We could've found him - talked to him!"

"And done what? Drag him back kicking and screaming, miserable from a job he dedicated his life to?" Jane bellows, startling the genius. "And what the hell do you mean by 'explain'? He never explains things to me! Never has, never will. I'm not a profiler, Reid. He's not my mentor or surrogate father or whatever the hell he was to you. I was his friend, and we all hide things from our friends, Spencer!"

Jane runs a hand haphazardly through her hair, trying in vain to calm herself down. "You didn't think, Spinner. You didn't think," she growls. "Jay never told me why he was leaving. He expected that I would understand, that I would get it. He knew that you wouldn't, not yet, and that's why he wrote you, of all people, a letter. He wrote that letter - to you - for a reason. Think long and hard about that instead of getting ready to wage war on someone hurting just as much as you are!"

Stunned silence.

"Jay," Spencer echoes, awed. "You called him 'Jay'."

"I call you 'Spinner,'" she reminds him warily. "What difference does it make."

"I -" he cuts himself off, finding his words. "I knew you two were friends, that he was … I didn't realize how - how close you two … were."

"Yeah," she sighs. "That's the point. That's always been the point."

He stands in silence, contemplating.

Jane massages her face, sighing deeply through her nose. "Neither of us are sleeping tonight, are we?"

Reid shuffles, just seeming to realize the time of night and Jane's state of disarray.

"It's fine," she waves before he can even begin to form an apology. "Cocoa and chess?"

"Did Gideon teach you to play?" Reid asks after their third round, watching the light of the sun begin to break through Jane's heavy curtains as she packs up her set.

"Nah, not technically," Jane replies, counting the pieces. "But he taught me strategy, so kinda."

"Oh," Spencer replies, shifting in the ancient armchair awkwardly, looking around to distract himself.

Jane's apartment was tiny, and as far as he could tell had only the barest minimum. The table was only large enough for three, tops, with only two chairs in the whole apartment - both mismatched and clearly thrifted. Her kitchen was more accurately a kitchenette attached to the main space, with a mini fridge and camping oven and no dishwasher. The house held no photos, no certificates. Only the occasional article of clothing, random pile of files, or odd book marked the apartment as lived in at all. And although that was only the central room, there only seemed to be a single bedroom and bathroom other than it.

"I like your flat," Spencer comments, not sure what else to say. "I didn't really notice it when I came in. Cozy."

"Cute lie, Spinner," Jane smirks, tying up her hair as she heads towards the kitchenette. "It's worth nothing more than a place to sleep and a good way for my coworkers to profile me. Acuka?"

Spencer blinks, unfamiliar with the word. "Sorry?"

"Acuka," Jane repeats, digging into her fridge. "Only thing I really ever make, and only recipe I know by heart. It's a spicy tomato paste spread. Mediterranean. It's good."

"Oh, ah," he flounders. "Well -"

"Spinner, calm down." Jane orders flatly. "Breathe."

"Sorry," he mutters. "I didn't think this through when I stormed in last night."

"I," Jane declares. "Am going to so shower. And then I am going to get ready for work. If I return and you are still here, that is fine. If I return and you are not, that is also fine. If I return and you have eaten all the acuka, that is not fine."

And with that, Spencer watches her practically flounce off into the bathroom, leaving him stunned behind her.

"Hey Pretty Boy," Morgan calls out to him late that afternoon, sidling up to Reid as he settles at his desk. "Any reason why I saw two docs instead of one climb out of that rust bucket of yours this morning?"

"I went to talk to her last night after I found out … about Gideon," Reid explains, honestly yet awkwardly. "But it was so late it was early, so I stayed and we just came together this morning."

"Wait, you stayed at Jane's?" Emily interrupts, "I didn't realize you two were that close."

"We're not!" Spencer hastily corrects, flushing. "When I got the letter, I realized that Jane's weird phone call was from Gideon about him leaving."

"So you stormed her place, guns blazing," Morgan nods, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips. "And then you made up and stayed the night."

Reid finds himself nodding before his friend's implications catch up to him, and he blushed furiously.

"Morgan!"

When the doorbell to the Hotchner home rang, Haley was the one to get it while Aaron coaxed Jack into eating another spoonful of cheerios rather than throwing it to the ground.

"Oh, I know you," Aaron can hear Haley say to whomever is at the door, and he feels his curiosity peak. "Aaron is in the kitchen - would you care to come in?"

He looks up from his messy son when he hears footsteps nearing the table, and sees Haley leading a uncomfortable looking Jane into the kitchen, in her work clothes and wearing a pair of orange fingerless gloves no doubt courtesy of Garcia. Jane tries for a smile through her obvious discomfort, and Aaron stands to meet her with a grin.

"Jane," He greets, nodding his head to his son. "Have you met my son Jack?"

"No, I haven't," Jane replies, latching onto a topic of conversation like a lifeline. "But he's quite the little one."

Aaron turns to scoop Jack up, secretly crowing at the opportunity to push Jane out of her comfort zone even further. "Jack," He says to the two year old. "Do you want to say hi to Auntie Jane?"

Jane looks immediately overwhelmed, and as Jack begins to make grabby hands at 'Auntie Jane' - which Jane automatically obliges by taking him oh-so-carefully from Aaron's arms - Aaron locks eyes in satisfaction with Haley, who's smiling softly at the scene.

Jane looks at Jack with a sort of bewilderment that he would've thought the stoic woman couldn't possess when they first met all those years ago. And Jack's a happy kid, who reaches out to tug at Jane's turtleneck and bits of her hair, which the doctor takes with grace.

"So, Jane." Haley interrupts after a moment, still smiling. "What brings you here this morning?"

"Sorry to drop in on you like this," Jane responds automatically, falling back into polite habits. "I just …" She trails off, and glances over at Hotch with a mixed expression. "Well, I heard about the suspension last night," She admits. "And I wanted to talk, but it didn't seem right over the phone. Didn't think it through, entirely."

"Well then," Halley declares. "I'll take this little guy to get ready for the day, and you two can talk."

Once Jack and Haley are out of the room, Jane can feel herself relax immediately. Pathetic.

"Suspension, really?" She complains, punching Aaron in the arm. "That was Gideon's call, at the college. That girl ended her own life."

"I couldn't slander his name like that, Jane." Aaron protests, justifies, but she's not having it.

"He slandered his own name when he ditched us," She states bluntly, suppressing the flinch she wants to let out at her own words. "I love Jason, Aaron. He was my first friend here. When I was some upstart doctor you wanted to dissect, and some kind of secret weapon Strauss wanted to level up her team with, Gideon was never like that. Jay was there for Jane, not Dr. Hart."

"I thought you would've been more understanding," Aaron shoots out with ice. "After all, you're running away from your past too."

"Oh no, no. I'm not running away," She corrects with vitriol. "I'm running towards something. Always have been. Jay isn't."

She looks at him meaningfully.

"You think I'm running," Aaron accuses her, and she holds his gaze. "I'm not running."

"You telling me?" She asks, turning towards the front hall, and he trails behind her. "Or are telling yourself?"

"Like you're one to judge," He calls after her, and she pauses with her hand on the door. "How many times have you taken the easy way out?"

"Oh, Aaron." She calls over her shoulder, "I'm far too much of a hypocrite to tell you what to do. But how many times have you tried to convince me to stay and fight?"

And she closes the door behind her.