"Can you quit it?"
Her jaw falls open in disbelief, but she decides to take the high road.
"Alright grumpy pants, what is it now?"
She leans forward, chin resting on her palm waiting for his answer.
Over these past few weeks at the BAU, Jo has learned a lot about the way the team operates and all of the members in it.
She has also learned, to her pleasant surprise, how terribly easy it is to annoy her new deskmate. Every little sound, every little smell, every little thing bothers him, and she finds it quite amusing.
"The tapping."
He eyes her left hand which is gripping a pen that she is tapping on her paperwork, "It's driving me nuts."
Jo follows his gaze to her hand gripping the pen, the paper beneath it covered in random dots from the tapping.
"Tell me, Spencer. Is there anything that doesn't get your panties in a complete twist?" She asks, her mouth moving lazily as she spoke.
"Silence. I like silence just fine," He informs her, finally dropping his own pen and looking her straight in the eyes, "But you seem to be utterly incapable of that."
He acts tough, but there is a subtly reddening of his cheeks that betrays him.
"Silence it is," She rolls her wrist around and stretches her hand open to relieve the tension from her iron grip on the pen
Spencer silently takes note that she is left-handed and goes back to work.
"Not that it's really any of your business, but I do that to help with being anxious sometimes. I fidget," She eyes the marked-up paper again.
Spencer spares her one last lazy glance before turning his attention back on his paperwork.
"Why are you anxious?" He asks her without looking up.
Jo tilts her head and tries to read him. She can't tell if he actually wants to know or not.
"Well, for starters, Strauss is here which is never a good sign," Jo nods up to Strauss' office on their floor of the building, which she hardly ever uses.
Except for now, apparently.
"Hm." Spencer hums.
He doesn't ask any more questions.
A headache starts to form at Jo's temples, so she opens the top drawer of her desk and fishes around for her glasses, assuming the ache is coming from straining her eyes on the paperwork.
If she is going to finish these incident reports from this past weekend, she needs some help to see the small font.
She roots around the drawer, which is actually more like a black hole, in search of her glasses.
She finds packs of gum, deodorant, an old vape, phone chargers, and a toothbrush before she's able to produce her glasses.
Spencer grits his teeth together as the sound of the obnoxious digging interrupts his work once more.
This girl is a mess.
Right as he is about to ask her to pipe down again, she apparently finds what she is looking for and shuts the drawer with a loud thud.
Spencer winces at the loud sound and watches as she smoothly slides a pair of glasses onto her face.
He decides to let it go once she gets back to work and isn't able to distract him anymore.
Jo looks back down at her paperwork, the small print being easier to read now.
Was any lethal force used by a field agent in this case? If so, describe in detail (1500 words or more) the events leading up to the use of said lethal force.
"Jesus," She sighs and takes her glasses off, deciding it's time for a break already.
She glances back at Strauss' office, the door still shut.
No one has come in or out, and there is pure silence coming from the room. Hotch has been in there for over an hour at this point.
She sets her forehead down on the desk with another thud, which makes Spencer open his mouth to deliver another snarky comment.
But he's cut off before he can.
"Ahem."
The two younger agents look up to find the Ice Queen herself standing in front of their desks.
How and when she moved so silently down to their desks, the two still have no idea.
Brows raised, the Section Chief says, "Agent Reid," She nods to the man who returns an awkward closed mouth smile.
"Jolene, I'd like to speak with you in my office."
Jo nods but doesn't move to rise from her seat. She doesn't want to be alone with the woman, even though it's seeming to be inevitable.
"Now, Jolene."
She sighs and finally gets up to follow Strauss, almost dragging her feet like she's a kindergartener being put in time out.
As the women walk away, Spencer is left baffled as to how Jo is able to act the way she did around Strauss without any consequence.
It gets under his skin a bit.
If he can be honest, Spencer is absolutely baffled by his new desk mate.
She is blunt and harsh and almost never on time. She's only been there a few weeks and yet, she walks around like she owns the place.
Jo is good at her job though. He won't deny her that.
He doesn't really know her exact history with the BAU, but he can tell it's complicated. He only understands that her father was once Unit Chief before the horrific crime that changed the BAU forever.
Spencer knows what happened to her and her family, everyone who walks through the doors of the NCAVC building on a daily basis knows what happened.
They don't know details of the crime, as Jo was a minor when it all went down. But they have a general idea of the horrors she faced that day.
Though, they'd never know what actually happened to her that night.
The door closes behind her with a gentle click.
She stands at the doorway of the office defiantly, waiting for further instruction from Strauss as she leans against the wood.
She is so blissfully unaware of what awaits her.
Jo's resistant standing at the door makes the Section Chief's jaw tick.
"At the risk of making you sound like a dog," Strauss begins, "Sit, Jolene."
She does as told, sitting in the smooth leather chair that is worn in from years of use.
"Tattoo, hm?"
Jo's face remains blank, "Yeah."
She holds up her left wrist to give Strauss a clearer view.
9/25 written in straight, black font.
Her mother's birthday.
"I was referring to the one wrapped around your neck there," Strauss corrects.
"Oh, this one?" Jolene moves her chin to the right to give Strauss a clearer view.
A small snake scales the skin of her neck, wrapping around her ear.
"You don't like it?" Jo asks.
"It's fine. I don't think you should be marking up your body, though."
"Good thing you're not my mother."
"No. Just your boss," Strauss opens the manila folder on the desk and slides her glasses on.
There's a shift in the small room, the energy becoming more pointed.
Jo's spine straightens and suddenly, Strauss seems focused. She's going in for a kill.
"Can you tell me what happened this past Friday at Agent Gideon's apartment?" The Section Chief drawls out.
"Didn't you already talk to Hotch about this? For like, over an hour?" Jo poses.
"Oh, yes. I did. Speaking of Agent Hotchner. How is he doing?"
"You have two eyes and a brain, don't you? He's fine."
"So quick-witted," Strauss bitterly smiles, "Just like your mother."
"Excuse me?"
"How do you find Agent Hotchner's leadership style? Erratic, flighty, irrational?" Strauss presses further, despite Jo's distress.
"I think you know better than to ask me that," Jo snarls.
"Don't get me wrong, Jolene. I love you very much and have enjoyed watching you grow into the bright young agent sitting before me today. But if you think you can continue to speak to me, your superior, this way, then we may have a problem," Strauss makes her point clear while trying to remain somewhat civil.
She is talking to the Deputy Director's daughter, after all.
"Agent Hotchner is the most intuitive, strategic, and insightful man I have ever met. So, to answer your question, no. I do not find his leadership style erratic, flighty, or irrational."
"You seem to feel strongly about that," Strauss assesses.
"Family comes first."
"How lovely," Strauss' sarcasm certainly isn't covert.
"Back to Friday. I need you to recount everything—"
Jolene can't hold her tongue anymore, "Ma'am, with all due respect—"
"Now, Jolene," Strauss flings the folder to the desk discontentedly.
Jo sighs, knowing she is now backed into a corner. She has nowhere to run.
"Well, we started at Gideon's apartment."
Friday, 7:15 pm, 181 Arthur Street, Jason Gideon's apartment
When Hotch and Jolene pass over the threshold, chaos has already ensued.
It'ss hard to focus on any one thing happening in the apartment. Everywhere you look there is a different federal agent working on some aspect of the crime scene.
Hotch and Jo share an uneasy look before striding further into the apartment with forced ease. They immediately begin to survey every detail they can.
Hotch lowers his voice to a near whisper, and leans into Jo, "You know what to do. Observe everything you can, while you can. We won't have much time, conflict of interest and all."
She nods and breaks away from him. He watches as she slips into the crowd of agents with ease, no one around her noticing as she slides past them covertly.
She silently makes her way to the kitchen where she sees the first bloody mess.
There's gnarly blood spatter on the expanse of the wall, the dining table is flipped and all the chairs flipped with it.
Her upper lip curls. Trying to stuff down her grief is becoming harder with each passing moment—this scene doesn't look good for any of them.
"The body is over here, follow me," She hears someone say in passing.
The body. Gideon's body?
Jo's head quickly snaps in the direction of two CSI members walking to the back half of the apartment.
She falls in line with them effortlessly as they walk to the bedroom. Gideon's bedroom.
She needs to know if it's Gideon's body in there. She has to know if he is dead.
She enters the small room fitted with a large bed and is both mortified and relieved.
It isn't Gideon's body. It's—
"Sarah Jacobs, 51. COD, vivisection," The CSI agents jot down her information on their clipboards.
They start to remove her body from the bed, settling her lifeless corpse into a body bag.
Jo blanches.
CSI hauls her body out of the room and Jolene is left alone. All is silent for a moment, and she's frozen.
Cutting through the white noise of agents at work, a buzzing fades into her hearing. She can't tell if it's coming from the radiator shaking in the corner or from her own head.
It doesn't matter where it's coming from because it is so harsh Jo has to bring fingers up to her temples, pressing into the bone for relief.
A shiver runs down her spine and she spins around quickly. It felt almost like someone had walked behind her.
But then she sees it. A busted photo frame has been dropped to the ground, a bullet hole shot clean through it.
Jo crouches and examines the photo. She blanches again, this time bile climbing up her throat.
It's a photo of herself and Gideon from the day she graduated from the academy.
The bullet hole is gruesome to look at, so she stands and exits the small bedroom.
Her moment of solitude is over, and as soon as she passes the threshold the chaos is back in full swing.
The buzzing in her ears has dulled to a gentle humming, but every so often she reaches up to rub her temples, and every single time Hotch notices from across the room.
Standing in the living room is Hotch, now accompanied by a very upset Morgan who must have arrived while Jo was in the bedroom.
"P.D. thinks Gideon did this? Why?!" Morgan fires at Hotch.
Jo wraps her jacket tight around her body before interjecting herself into the conversation.
"They have six witnesses who saw Gideon running down the street, covered in blood, wielding a gun. That's why," Jo filled in, walking up to them.
Derek looks at Jo, who has guarded eyes and tight lips.
"You okay?" He asks her quietly.
"Fine," She nods, "Just wanna catch Frank and find Gideon."
Morgan and Hotch share a brief look, and by brief, if you blinked you would have missed it.
"We're under strict orders not to get in the way of this investigation," Hotch tells them, "Gideon's a suspect, we're his colleagues."
"It's a conflict of interest, they won't of let us help," a new voice chimes in, and soon JJ and Spencer are joining the rest of them.
"And he needs our help badly right now," Spencer looks at JJ, and Jolene watches at the two for a second longer than she should have.
She wonders if they had been dating. Sometimes they act like they were, giving each other rides, getting coffee for one another.
Jo thinks that they would make a cute couple if they weren't already, but Hotch interrupts her baseless wonderings, bringing her back to reality.
"The rest of you, keep looking around. Everything, no matter how small, could help. Banks," He looks at Jo, "Stay back."
Everyone else disperses around the room and Hotch takes a step closer to Jo, lowering his voice, "Did you find anything?"
She remembers the picture frame.
Her temples pound and her ears ring, the reckoning of grief and anxiety hitting her full-on.
She rubs the sides of her forehead, but the buzzing is still there, ceaselessly ringing.
Hotch's gaze zeroes in on her as she rubs her temples the way she had been earlier.
"Do you need anything?" He asks.
"Just, give me a sec," She holds up a finger and squeezes her eyes shut. She sighs when she is ready to speak again.
"No signs of forced entry, which you probably noticed as well. It's obviously very personal, as Frank decimated all of Gideon's personal effects, including photographs," She opens her eyes and releases a shaky breath.
Hotch watches her steadily, "Good work," His gaze then darts around the apartment, spotting Derek watching them from across the room.
"Take Morgan downstairs, see if there are any security cameras on nearby businesses that might have caught Gideon and Frank on tape," Hotch orders.
She nods, taking one final look around before hurrying off to find Morgan.
"Hm." Strauss hums and scribbles something down, "Then what happened?"
"We concluded that Frank Breitkopf and Gideon had to have left the apartment the same way. These so-called witnesses that saw Gideon leaving the crime scene must have seen Frank leaving as well. So, we set out to find him before he could start killing the people from the list he had stolen from Gideon," Jo finishes.
Strauss gives her a suggestive look, like she thinks Jo is lying.
"I don't know what else you want me to say," Jolene decides to level with the woman, leaning forward in her seat.
"I want you to tell me everything you just decided to leave out of your retelling of events."
Jo knows what she is alluding to. It's the one thing she's been trying her hardest to avoid in this conversation.
But it seems as though the inevitable is about to occur.
She decides to play it cool still, "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Hiding a material witness, for starters."
And there it is.
From this moment on, the gutting tension in the room is too palpable to pretend to ignore.
It's getting hot in the tiny office and Jo suddenly wonders if she's in hell.
She is seated across from the devil after all.
"That's not exactly how we saw it—"
"Every cause has its effect. I can't have federal agents disobeying orders and obstructing investigations."
Strauss then drops her voice to just above a whisper, "I don't know about you, Agent Banks, but I would consider hiding witnesses and suppressing evidence as erratic, flighty, and irrational."
Jo opens her mouth to object but is cut off, "Not to mention, it breaks protocol."
Strauss closes the folder and takes her glasses off, setting them atop it.
Jo decides to go out on a limb and make one, last-ditch effort to break through to this woman.
She has a feeling as to where this conversation is going to end, but the small part of her that wants to hold out hope tells her to press on.
"Ma'am, with all due respect, you have not seen the things that we have seen," Jo swallows the lump growing in her throat.
"Watching Frank and Jane jump in front of the train that day...I'll never forget it. We make decisions based on what's happening at that moment," She pleads.
Strauss is silent, and Jo looks down at her hands. She sees all of the marks and scars illustrating all she's been through in her short life.
But somehow, with all of that experience, she can't fix the situation before her now.
The young agent continues desperately, "You can't judge us for the things we did in the field because you weren't there. Everything we did was in order to save the lives of innocent people."
After all, the only thing Jo cares about is saving lives, and she hopes Strauss can see that much at least.
"I believe Agent Hotchner is no longer effective in his post."
Jo looks away from Strauss immediately for fear she will punch her in the face and crack her nose in half.
"Ma'am please-" Jo looks back at her.
"Enough, Agent Banks. My mind is made up. We're done here."
Strauss crosses her arms, giving the girl a wickedly hateful glare that only makes Jo want to keep fighting.
She removes her gaze from Strauss again because she is sure she will punch her in the face this time, but her eye catches on something.
On the corner of Strauss' desk sits a photo. In the photo are Strauss, her husband, and three smiling children. Two girls and a boy. The boy is sitting in front of the girls.
She favors her son.
"You tell your children you love them all equally, but you favor the middle one. Your son," Jo points to the small frame, "Cute kid. Of course, you try to convince yourself that you really do love them all equally, but you don't, not like you love him. You're harder on your daughters, always holding them to higher standards, which explains why you don't trust female agents as much as male agents—"
"Enough," Strauss slams her hands on the desk and stands, "My actions are not under scrutiny here Agent Banks, yours are. I called you in here today because I had faith you were smart enough to condemn the inappropriate actions of you and your team and give me the information I needed. I trusted your character and judgment when I clearly should not have. Your father will be disappointed to hear about this."
Jo almost laughs at the fact Strauss thinks she cares what her father thinks of her.
That ship sailed long ago.
Jo stands, "I stand by Agent Hotchner's decisions and I stand by my team. If you think you can try to find a better person for his job, good luck."
Jo turns on the heel of her boots and walks to the door.
"Agent Banks—"
"How do I know that you favor your son?" She turns back to face Strauss, "Hotch taught me everything I know about profiling. I've learned from the best."
With that, she leaves.
And goes straight to Hotch's office. She doesn't bother knocking once she gets there.
"I'm sorry," is all she can say when she enters and sees him sitting down, deep in thought.
He looks up at her, "Close the door," and Jo's stomach drops.
The feeling that precedes loss has a very pungent, sinking sensation that Jo knows quite well.
This feeling is present with her now, and it's warning her that something bad is about to happen.
She closes the door behind herself but doesn't move any further into the office.
"What did she say to you?" Jo asks cautiously.
Hotch looks up at her for a moment and really looks at her.
The defeated furrow of her brow reminds him of the lost sixteen-year-old girl he once knew.
Maybe that girl never really left.
How did he always seem to find a way to let her down? Jo is like his daughter, and time and time again he's been unable to shield her from the omniscient evil that seems to all too easily slither into her life.
It makes him doubt his ability to raise Jack. When Hotch looks at Jo, the fractured pieces of herself are reflected in her eyes. His heart will completely break if Jack turns out the same way. He knows he will do anything to protect him.
Both of them.
"It doesn't matter what she said to me, what matters is that her word is final. What she wants, she gets," Hotch sounds so resigned, and it angers Jo even more.
He was never the type to give up so easily.
"Why are you doing this?" Jo asks, stepping further into the room.
"Doing what?" He asks.
"Giving up, letting Strauss win, leaving me here as soon as I come back... Should I go on?" Jo argues.
"I'm not leaving you, we don't know what her final decision will actually be-"
"She is going to fire you," Jolene explains simply, "Or transfer you, put you on leave, whatever. You and I both spoke to her, you know what her plan is."
Hotch is quiet, and Jolene knows she's right.
"That may be true, but just listen to me for a second. No matter what happens I need you to remember that none of this is your fault."
"Here we go," Jo sighs under her breath.
Hotch continues, "No matter what Strauss decides to do, you are not to interfere with her decision."
"You seriously think I'm gonna just let her haul you off?"
Hotch ignores her, "No going to your dad, no accidental deletion of transfer requests or termination papers. None of that, do you understand?" He meets her eyes again.
There is no more fight, no more hope that she can change the outcome of this situation.
It's inevitable.
"I guess," Jo says quietly, "I just don't understand. What does she have against you? Against us?"
Hotch blows out a huff of air, truly not having an answer to her question. It's one that's crossed his mind over and over again.
"I don't know. If I'm being honest, I saw this coming. She's had something against me for years, I just wish she would've had the decency to leave you out of it. She tried to turn you against me, I know she did."
He then gives her the smallest of smiles, "And to your credit, you didn't give in."
"On what planet do you think I would give in to that bullshit, Hotch?" Jo quirks a brow.
Hotch lets out a laugh, an actual genuine laugh, at her ferocity. She is so strong-willed it's a wonder she isn't made of steel.
He admires that about her.
Jo swallows the growing lump in her crawling up to her mouth. She clears her throat so her voice will come out even, and not in the wavering way it usually does when she is about to cry.
"So, there's nothing I can do?"
Hotch is silent.
"Whatever. This is so fucked," She quietly says.
"It's not ideal, I know," Hotch agrees.
"Listen, considering this might be our last day here together I want to apologize," Jo doesn't know where this confession is coming from, but she goes with it.
"The way I left things at the diner...You didn't deserve that. You can't control what my dad wants, but you did defend me, as always. I should have thanked you for that instead of acting out in the way I did. I'm really sorry."
Don't cry, don't cry, don't fucking cry.
He nods, but can't say anything because he feels the bubbling of tears climbing up his own throat.
Jo walks out of the office then, already beginning to settle in her defeat.
Hotch lets her walk out, knowing there is nothing he can say or do to make her feel better. She does better with that kind of thing on her own.
Or so he thought.
Jolene walks briskly out of the office and straight into the break room shutting the door behind her, hoping she isn't seen by anyone.
She braces herself against the countertop of the small kitchenette, shoulders heaving from her heavy breathing. This can't be happening.
This fucking job taking another person she loves away from her. She can't take it.
A few tears trail down her cheekbones and she hastily wipes them before they can drip down to her neck.
She tries to control herself, to steady her breathing, but she can't stop the breadth of hatred pouring out of her. This is what happens to her-she keeps everything locked up inside of herself, and as soon as something triggers her, the dam breaks.
Her mother was killed, her brother was taken, Gideon was god knows where and now it's only a waiting game to see how much longer Hotch will be around.
Everything is taken from her. Everything good is ripped from her clutches until she is left with sore, bloodied fingers.
She grips the edge of the counter tighter, veins popping out of the pale skin of her hands.
Spencer stands behind the door of the break room, unsure of what to do upon seeing Jo's shaky form. He had intended to just get another cup of coffee, not having seen Jo storm into the room a few minutes prior.
He stands, watching through the small window as her shoulders bounce up and down, as she heaves for breath between her quiet.
"Shit," he curses under his breath.
He places his hand on the doorknob and for a split second, he thinks he is going to walk in. What he will say to her? He has no idea. But the sight of her breaking down is...weird.
He sometimes thought she might be a robot. You know, robots don't cry or show any genuine emotion at all.
But, although he may be a complete dick at the moment, the man still has access to his sensible, all-consuming empathy which is making him see Jo as a human being and not just a cold, metal exterior.
He doesn't walk in, though. He figures she will more than likely give him a snarky remark and the middle finger before ordering him out of the room in a haste. He doesn't want to get onto her bad side any more than he already has, albeit unintentionally.
He doesn't know why he is so keen on keeping her at a distance, why it is so easy to push her buttons. And least of all, he doesn't understand how the girl can provoke him with little to no effort.
For a moment, upon seeing her show some real emotion for a change, Spencer panics that it's all his fault. His mind races with thoughts about how he should be nicer to her, not antagonize her as much.
He quickly realizes it's probably self-centered to think this way. He reminds himself that the girl with the hard exterior likely doesn't give two shits about what he says or does.
So, he goes back to his desk a short moment later. He spares the girl a few short glances when she returns to her desk across from him with a red nose and watery eyes.
It hits him, then, that whatever happened to her in Strauss' office goes beyond the two of them and their petty, mean-spirited banter. It has nothing to do with him.
His chest tightens. Something bad has happened, really bad, and the team is going to pay the price.
a/n sorry...i love a slow burn.
Let me know what you think of this chapter! Much love to all of you xx
