A/N: I'm getting kind of discouraged....do you not like me anymore? My muse
is getting unhappy.
Well, it's done, hope you like. And if I get some reviews for this, I might
make more stories with Jo. But with how you've been lately, I don't
know.....
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own them (except Joann Morris and John Perkins), blah blah, don't sue, I'm only 14, I'm poor and so are my parents, it won't get you anything.
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Jo walked out to her Corvette (A/N:Remember, her 'rents were loaded) and got in. Before she turned the key smelled the new car aroma. The car was fresh, and had hardly been driven. She had gotten it on her birthday that year, which, as you'll remember, was when her parents were killed. The only time it had been driven was when she went out to celebrate, and when Warrick had brought it over to Nick's.
Anyway, she turned on the car and pulled out of the lot. The whole way to her *hopefully* future place of buisness was well known. She continually reviewed in her head her argument for the job. She had gotten transcripts, test scores, and things like that to hand to the team leader.
Jo pulled into the parking lot and turned the key. Taking a deep breath she tried to collected herself. It didn't work, so she sat some more, counted to 10 and opened the door.[On with it, woman!] she told herself. Grabbing all her materials, the young woman moved toward the entrance.
It was common knowledge that Gil Grissom loved his job, and Jo had found out from her godfather that he was there that night (Her evesdropping skills again). All she had to do was pray he was inside doing paperwork instead of being out in the field. Luck was on her side this time. She checked with the lady at the front desk and found that he was.
Timidly she knocked on the door to his office.
"Come in," was the muffled sound, coupled with sounds from Beethoven's 9th. Jo opened the door and stepped inside, much to Gil's surprise.
"Jo? What are you doing here?" He turned the music down.
"Hi Mr. Grissom. I'm, uh," She hesitated. [SAY IT!], "Begging for a job."
Gil raised an eyebrow. "Sit." She did, quickly. "You want a job here?"
"Yes sir. I've got a Bachelor's Degree in Biology, and I minored in criminology. I also minored in graphic arts," she said, "But you already know that. I was thinking, well, I think I'm pretty qualified for the job."
"Then again, it doesn't matter what I think, only what you do. So, I brought my transcripts from school. Here." She handed the stunned Grissom a folder full of papers.
"I see you've come prepared." Gil said, flicking through the papers.
"This is the most important thing I've ever done, sir. I've been thinking about this day since I was 10 years old." She peered nervously over the desk, seeing what document he was on at this point. It was her thesis.
"You did your thesis on--" he paused, reading the title, "How Forensic Evidence Solves Crimes?" [A girl of my own heart,] he thought, remembering his thesis. It was on essentially the same thing.
"Yes sir."
Gil skimmed the paper. It was better than most grad students' essays.
"Well, Jo, you are qualified. Very much so, in fact." Jo let out a long breath. "The only thing I'm worried about is that you are so young."
Jo nodded and he continued.
"I mean, being so young, if we were, say, questioning a suspect, they might not take you seriously. And the night shift could also lose some credibilty. Which is the last thing we need right now."
"I understand, sir. But what if being so young, I could talk with the young suspects better? You know, like they could relate to me more than you or Catherine, or anyone else, for that matter? And I could also bring a new perspective to cases. Like, I know all the common signs for a serial killer, their patterns. But I really haven't experienced them first hand. So I could maybe think in a different way, and, I don't know, shed light on something that might have been overlooked." She knew she was stretching it here.
Grissom sat back to consider what she had said. They were all good points, that was for sure. But it was still hard to tell if she would be right for the job.
"I'll tell you what, Jo. I'll give you a trial period. Let's say, 1 week. You can come here and work in the lab. If, after that, I'm satisfied, and if you and one of my team aren't at each other's throats, I'll let you in."
Jo smiled so wide she thought her mouth would stick that way. "Thank you so, so, SO much, Mr. Grissom. I won't let you down, sir." She shook his hand and began to walk out of the office, almost skipping.
"One thing, though. Call me Gil." He said from his desk.
"Gotcha, Gil." She said, giving him a small salute. Turning out of the office, she just stopped from running into Sara.
"Excuse me, Sara." She said, flashing another smile. Sara raised an eyebrow but said it was ok. As she turned around, Jo was prancing down the hall happily. She ran into Catherine, who laughed, puzzled and moved towards Gil's office.
"Why was Nick's goddaughter skipping down the hall?" Sara asked. Catherine looked at him, wanting the answer as well.
"I just told her that she can have a job here, if she lasts for a week in the lab." Both women's mouths dropped. Catherine's soon formed into a grin, however, while Sara's face showed a look of pure horror.
"That's great! I'll have to tell Lindsay." Catherine walked out of the room, smiling still. Sara hadn't taken her eyes off Gil, though.
"You're hiring an 18 year old to work here?" She said, apparently outraged.
"Yes, Sara, I probably am. She is more than qualified."
She let her breath out in a huff and left the room, still upset.
Meanwhile, Jo had left the building(A/N: Elvis much?) and WAS skipping toward her car.
[I can't wait to tell Nick. And Greg.] She smiled at the thought she would be working with them both. Rolling down the window and cranking up the stereo full blast, she sang along all the way home.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own them (except Joann Morris and John Perkins), blah blah, don't sue, I'm only 14, I'm poor and so are my parents, it won't get you anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo walked out to her Corvette (A/N:Remember, her 'rents were loaded) and got in. Before she turned the key smelled the new car aroma. The car was fresh, and had hardly been driven. She had gotten it on her birthday that year, which, as you'll remember, was when her parents were killed. The only time it had been driven was when she went out to celebrate, and when Warrick had brought it over to Nick's.
Anyway, she turned on the car and pulled out of the lot. The whole way to her *hopefully* future place of buisness was well known. She continually reviewed in her head her argument for the job. She had gotten transcripts, test scores, and things like that to hand to the team leader.
Jo pulled into the parking lot and turned the key. Taking a deep breath she tried to collected herself. It didn't work, so she sat some more, counted to 10 and opened the door.[On with it, woman!] she told herself. Grabbing all her materials, the young woman moved toward the entrance.
It was common knowledge that Gil Grissom loved his job, and Jo had found out from her godfather that he was there that night (Her evesdropping skills again). All she had to do was pray he was inside doing paperwork instead of being out in the field. Luck was on her side this time. She checked with the lady at the front desk and found that he was.
Timidly she knocked on the door to his office.
"Come in," was the muffled sound, coupled with sounds from Beethoven's 9th. Jo opened the door and stepped inside, much to Gil's surprise.
"Jo? What are you doing here?" He turned the music down.
"Hi Mr. Grissom. I'm, uh," She hesitated. [SAY IT!], "Begging for a job."
Gil raised an eyebrow. "Sit." She did, quickly. "You want a job here?"
"Yes sir. I've got a Bachelor's Degree in Biology, and I minored in criminology. I also minored in graphic arts," she said, "But you already know that. I was thinking, well, I think I'm pretty qualified for the job."
"Then again, it doesn't matter what I think, only what you do. So, I brought my transcripts from school. Here." She handed the stunned Grissom a folder full of papers.
"I see you've come prepared." Gil said, flicking through the papers.
"This is the most important thing I've ever done, sir. I've been thinking about this day since I was 10 years old." She peered nervously over the desk, seeing what document he was on at this point. It was her thesis.
"You did your thesis on--" he paused, reading the title, "How Forensic Evidence Solves Crimes?" [A girl of my own heart,] he thought, remembering his thesis. It was on essentially the same thing.
"Yes sir."
Gil skimmed the paper. It was better than most grad students' essays.
"Well, Jo, you are qualified. Very much so, in fact." Jo let out a long breath. "The only thing I'm worried about is that you are so young."
Jo nodded and he continued.
"I mean, being so young, if we were, say, questioning a suspect, they might not take you seriously. And the night shift could also lose some credibilty. Which is the last thing we need right now."
"I understand, sir. But what if being so young, I could talk with the young suspects better? You know, like they could relate to me more than you or Catherine, or anyone else, for that matter? And I could also bring a new perspective to cases. Like, I know all the common signs for a serial killer, their patterns. But I really haven't experienced them first hand. So I could maybe think in a different way, and, I don't know, shed light on something that might have been overlooked." She knew she was stretching it here.
Grissom sat back to consider what she had said. They were all good points, that was for sure. But it was still hard to tell if she would be right for the job.
"I'll tell you what, Jo. I'll give you a trial period. Let's say, 1 week. You can come here and work in the lab. If, after that, I'm satisfied, and if you and one of my team aren't at each other's throats, I'll let you in."
Jo smiled so wide she thought her mouth would stick that way. "Thank you so, so, SO much, Mr. Grissom. I won't let you down, sir." She shook his hand and began to walk out of the office, almost skipping.
"One thing, though. Call me Gil." He said from his desk.
"Gotcha, Gil." She said, giving him a small salute. Turning out of the office, she just stopped from running into Sara.
"Excuse me, Sara." She said, flashing another smile. Sara raised an eyebrow but said it was ok. As she turned around, Jo was prancing down the hall happily. She ran into Catherine, who laughed, puzzled and moved towards Gil's office.
"Why was Nick's goddaughter skipping down the hall?" Sara asked. Catherine looked at him, wanting the answer as well.
"I just told her that she can have a job here, if she lasts for a week in the lab." Both women's mouths dropped. Catherine's soon formed into a grin, however, while Sara's face showed a look of pure horror.
"That's great! I'll have to tell Lindsay." Catherine walked out of the room, smiling still. Sara hadn't taken her eyes off Gil, though.
"You're hiring an 18 year old to work here?" She said, apparently outraged.
"Yes, Sara, I probably am. She is more than qualified."
She let her breath out in a huff and left the room, still upset.
Meanwhile, Jo had left the building(A/N: Elvis much?) and WAS skipping toward her car.
[I can't wait to tell Nick. And Greg.] She smiled at the thought she would be working with them both. Rolling down the window and cranking up the stereo full blast, she sang along all the way home.