tw- mentions of drug abuse

The guilt consumes him.

The weekend flies by as the young man sits at home, hunched over a book that he's already finished reading four times over by the time Sunday evening rolls around.

Spencer opens up La Coscienza di Zeno by Italo Svevo for the fifth time, soft light glowing from the bedside lamp.

The book is one of his favorite pieces of Italian literature and one that he will argue is the most important to the genre.

The novel follows the main character of Zeno Corsini as he creates a riveting and actualized analysis of his own self. It's bold and sympathetic.

It's everything Spencer knows he isn't.

He reaches the end of the novel again an hour later, Zeno's story becoming too boring and the black coffee he's been downing tasting too bitter.

With a heavy sigh, he sets the large, leather-bound book on the nightstand once more. He hates finishing the book because it forces him back to reality. It forces him to remember this weekend, and everything since he was abducted.

He's an awful person, he's a person who can't look inside himself for long enough to understand the problem is coming from within, from his inability to deal with the trauma that was inflicted upon him by Tobias Hankle.

He decides this is a sorry excuse for his behavior, as Jo has been through what he experienced but to such a severe degree he can't even begin to comprehend the darkness she has faced.

The CSI photo is burned into his memory, unintentionally.

He needs to forget.

He traces his forearms gently while he sits in bed, tingling pulsing through the skin there.

That little brown drawer across the room calls his name. He looks over piles of dirty clothes and old dishes to see the tiny dresser containing his biggest secret.

It practically glows, somehow promising to take away all of his worries in exchange for just a few minutes of his time and a bad decision or two.

His breath catches in his throat as he tries to convince himself that he was still deciding if he is going to open it or not.

He already knows he will, so when his feet suddenly carry him across the room it comes as no surprise.

Within seconds it is open, and he is rooting around, pushing away the pedestrian items that hid what sinister deviancies lurk below.

Finally, there it is. The small plastic baggie crinkles in his hands. Inside are two small vials which stare back at him with a wicked disposition.

He holds the bag almost too carefully like he is holding something of real value. The dim light cast Spencer's long shadow along the floor, and the silence of the apartment becomes too loud for his own thoughts to be heard.

It's either this or Zeno round six.

He still debates, still weighs his options.

The sweet flooding of relief doesn't crash until he pops open the top of the ziplock bag.

His back hit's the wall behind him and he slides down to the floor pathetically. The syringe falls from his hand and rolls a few times on the hardwood before stopping in the crumpled-up paper.

Spencer,

I knew it would be you who came to the cabin to check on me.

You must be frightened, I apologize for that. I never meant to cause you any pain. But then I also never envisioned writing this letter.

He can't bring himself to read the rest of the letter knowing what comes at the end. Gideon's plea that Spencer "look after" Jo. He huffs a frustrated breath through his lips, hands coming up to press harshly into his eyes.

He doesn't want to "look after" her. Quite frankly, he doesn't even know what that means. Jo isn't the type of person to need protecting, Gideon said so himself. She's tough to a fault and doesn't let anyone's bullshit slide, especially not his.

Until Friday night, when Spencer unleashed his sinister words upon her that scratched her soul painfully. If she needs protection from anyone, it's surely him and his fucked-up mind.

He at least has to try and make things neutral between them. If he can apologize to her, and maybe grovel at her feet for forgiveness, maybe she will forgive him. No, she'll never really forgive him, but maybe they could become cordial enough that he can look after her silently, even if it's from afar. Even after what he said.

He knows she will never let him in after that. He knows he's fucked up so severely that he will never be able to do the one thing Gideon asked of him, protect her. It kills him knowing that he'll undeniably let Gideon down, wherever he is. But, he at least has to try. He has to rid himself of the guilt that he not only feels because of Jo, but for Gideon as well.

He can see how much Jo means to Gideon and he can't quite fathom why. She's brazen and cold and downright vicious in a way that makes his blood pressure skyrocket.

It kind of excites him.

"No, no no no no no," Spencer chants to himself.

It doesn't excite me, he tells himself, It doesn't do anything to me other than make my blood boil.

But whoever said that's a bad thing?

"I have a sinking suspicion you haven't heard a single thing I've said this whole time."

"Hm?" Spencer hums absently.

"Boy genius, you're starting to freak me out. Do you have a fever? How's your appetite? Have you been sleeping well-"

"Uh, G-Garcia?" Spencer swats her helpful hands away from trying to take his temperature on his forehead.

"Sorry," She takes a step back, looking at him all the while.

His sunken face, pale skin, and jittery movements aren't lost on the woman. She has been noticing Spencer acting completely out of character for some time now.

Ever since their time in North Mammon.

She knows he's going through a lot inside of himself, and she doesn't want him to try and deal with it in the wrong ways. Turning to things he shouldn't to help ease his pain.

She prays what she suspects is going on is nothing but that; a suspicion.

"Really, Spencer," The blonde woman hovers over his desk while he continues his work, not looking up at her but every so often scratching his nose quickly.

"Yes, Garcia?" The irritation is hard to miss in his voice.

Spencer is tired, the guilt had only allowed him to get about five hours of sleep the whole weekend.

The poison he pumped through his veins didn't help, either.

"Are you okay?" She asks, her voice teetering on the edge of full-blown concern.

He never opens up to anyone and it is getting old. She loves him, she loves him so much and she just wants him to be okay. She doesn't know what the hell is going on inside that freakishly large brain of his.

He opens his mouth to answer, to once more assure her that he is fine and that there is nothing to worry about.

But he is cut off.

"If you don't count chronic sweater vest-wearing syndrome, then yes. I'd say he's perfectly fine."

Jo roughly sets her messenger bag on her desk adjacent to Spencer's.

Garcia's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, backing up slightly.

She walked in as she had just about every other day. Almost late, reeking of cigarettes, and smearing dark lipstick on as she walks off the elevator.

Spencer looks up her slim frame to her face above him. Her dark eyes hold a mix of contempt and denigration.

Otherwise, her facial features are neutral. Spencer wonders if she is holding it this way on purpose.

Spencer glances at Garcia briefly, shaking his head. She nods and turns, sparing him one last look before she goes.

Jo sits, pulls out a case file, and begins working.

Spencer waits in the silence. For what? He isn't sure. Maybe for her to curse at him, punch him in the arm, snap his desktop computer in half.

Minutes pass and Jo sits still at her desk, working diligently. He glances over at her every so often, his cheeks burning due to how much attention he is paying her.

He needs to say something, but he doesn't know what. Apologize? Ramble until she cuts him off? Whatever it is, he has to say something, even if it's word vomit.

This loaded silence is eating away at him.

This is it, Spencer. You only need to get back to where you once were with her. Some incessant arguments and petty comebacks. You don't have to be friends, you don't want that.

You want to do what Gideon asked. You have to do what Gideon asked.

"Uh-" He clears his throat, "Jo-,"

"What?" She snaps, not looking up.

Woah.

"Can we-" He lowers his voice, leaning closer to her desk, "Can we maybe talk?"

"Talk?" She repeats, eyebrows shooting up.

This idiot has a death wish.

"About-Friday night," he fills in.

Jo stops writing, the pen still fiercely in her grip.

With a sigh, she drops the pen.

"You don't have to say anything. I don't really care, to be honest with you. Though, you definitely don't deserve my honesty."

All Spencer does is knit his eyebrows together.

"Well, I feel like I should apologize," He tells.

Her irritation makes her tick. She bites her lip.

"Seriously, can you just drop it?" She finally looks up, "Forget it ever happened, I already have. We're only here to work. Let it go."

They hold each other's gazes for a beat, and they both feel something akin to being stuck.

"But-"

"Whoever said we have to get along besides Derek, right?" She quips.

"O-Okay," Spencer gulps, "If that's what you want."

Jo's eyebrows knit together, "It is," She continues her paperwork.

Spencer sits uncomfortably across from her for the next several minutes and comes to the conclusion that he would have liked it better if she did punch him in the arm.

Give her the photo back now. If you wait, it'll look creepy or something. Just do it. Why are you so scared of her?

Uh, because she's fucking scary, obviously.

Just do it.

"Jo?" He stays quietly; he doesn't want to bother her again.

"Can't you see I'm trying to take my job as seriously as you do?" The sweet quality of her voice and the smile that stretches on her slender lips is somehow scarier than any serial killer he's come face-to-face with.

"I-I deserve that," He concedes.

"You deserve a lot of things, doctor. But I don't want to give them to you because I'm starting to believe you actually like pain, considering how you ceaselessly try and push my buttons. Are you a masochist, Spencer?" She draws his name out, and the way her lips shape around the word is etched into his head. She makes it sound ugly, like a sin.

During her speech, she's leaned in closer to him, chin resting in her hand as she pins him with her gaze.

The color flushes from his face and Jo smiles wider, Gotcha.

Her smile makes him resentful, and though he's trying to patch things up with her, he can't help the way her dark eyes make him want to fight.

"You wish I was a masochist. Would make you feel better about anger being your only defense mechanism," He regrets his words in an instant.

She tuts a sound out of her mouth, shaking her head slowly, "You just don't learn do you."

He holds back a rebuttal that comes to his head too quickly.

Stay on task. Get her to trust you. Do it for Gideon.

Spencer's slender fingers reach for the knob of his desk drawer.

"I- You-you dropped this-"

An authoritative voice cuts through his stammering, stealing all focus.

"And last but not least, SSA Rossi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. You already know Agent Banks."

Hotch is beside them in an instant and the moment is gone. Jo's attention had been completely stolen.

Thank god, they think in unison.

It takes Jo a moment to realize who she's looking at, but once she does eager excitement bubbles in her chest.

"Agent Rossi?" Jo questions in disbelief.

"Jolene Banks," Rossi marvels, looking down at the girl, "Well, I suppose it's Agent Banks now."

"It's great to see you again, sir," She rises to her feet quickly, extending a hand to him.

"Please, call me Dave," He shakes her hand, unable to believe that this is the little girl who used to tag along into the office with her father.

Spencer's mind is still on the photo burning a hole through the open drawer of his desk, but he closes it quickly and rises to his feet.

It'll have to wait.

"It's such an honor to meet you, Agent Rossi," Spencer shakes his hand quickly and Rossi is taken aback by his quick energy.

Just when Jo thinks they are off the hook from hearing a classic Spencer rambling, he speaks,

"If I could talk to you later about your work with the Scarsdale Skinner? Psycho Linguistics is an incredibly dynamic field and the fact that your profile of his reading habits ultimately led to his capture is something I find so incredibly intriguing—"

"I hate to be the one to inform you of this," Jo looks to Rossi, "But he doesn't have an off button."

On the jet, Spencer still can't shake his guilt, and Jo can't shake her detest.

Yes, she told Spencer she doesn't care, but there is still hurt there whether she admits it or not.

She knows Spencer is an immature, self-centered boy whose words should not be taken seriously at all, which is why it pisses her off so much when every time she replays them in her head they sting just as bad as when she heard them the first time. She hates that such a numbskull has such an impact on her.

You're here to do your job. Just do your job, She tells herself, Prove him wrong. Prove your dad wrong.

Dispersed throughout the jet, the team silently fingers through their newest case file.

There is a serial killer posting missing fliers of their victims all over their homes before they even go missing. He then abducts and kills them later that night.

"That is bleak," Jo voices, holding up the first missing flyer.

"Just when you thought you'd seen it all," Rossi comments from beside her.

The first victim was Michelle Colucci, and she had actually gone to the police earlier that day over the strange fliers she found in her home, but they turned her away.

Of fucking course they did.

"Detective Yarbrough from the P.D. in Carrolton, Texas told Colucci it was probably a Halloween prank, and he sent her home," JJ says.

Jo winces.

JJ continues, "Yarborough still thought it could be some kind of Halloween prank, until yesterday when Michelle was found floating in a small creek just outside of Carrollton. She was sexually assaulted, and her face had been removed."

JJ tells and hands them all a round of pictures.

These photos are far more gruesome. Jo shares a copy with Rossi who is sitting to her right. The pair grimly look over the photo of Michelle with her face removed.

"Did the ME report anything found in the lungs?" Jo looks up at JJ, "It looks like there's blood froth residue on the lips? Usually a sign of freshwater in the lungs."

That Ph.D. must be in forensic pathology, Spencer concludes.

"That would be correct. The ME did find water in the lungs," JJ nods.

"Right," Jo lets out under her breath.

"Oh, and Hotch," JJ says, "The local media has the story. It broke big in Carrollton."

The group becomes a chorus of sighs and groans. It always makes investigating cases much more difficult when the media became involved.

He nods, if this setback alarming to him he doesn't show it "Let Carrollton P.D. know we'll be there within the hour."

"I didn't sign up for this," Jo huffs as she almost breaks her ankle on a rock.

Again.

Detective Yarbrough leads them up a steep, rocky, hillside to the site where Michelle's body was found.

Upon landing in Carrollton, Hotch ordered Reid and Banks to go along with Rossi to the first dumpsite while the rest of the team got to go to Michelle's house in the air conditioning.

It's a great day to have a Ph.D. in criminal psychology, isn't it?

Jo's ankle catches on a root sticking out of the ground and she grunts in anger.

"It's not that bad," Spencer huffs from beside her.

"Are you sure about that? You sound like you're having trouble breathing," She steps over a huge boulder, almost falling backward.

"I-I'm not," he defends lazily, all of his energy and focus is used to ensure he does not fall off this cliffside, "It's just a little steep."

"You can say that a-"

That's when she falls face-first onto the sandy ground.

Tripping over a teeny tiny rock ended up being her downfall, and Spencer steps over her body to keep climbing past her.

Back up she goes, brushing off her knees and elbows before joining the three men who had made it to the top of the steep hill.

The view is stunning, trees extending as far as the eye can see. A hazy yellow sunset glows over the mountains ahead, and Jo has to remind herself why she is in such a beautiful place.

"Sorry, there isn't much evidence left, folks." Detective Yarbrough states, looking over the vast view of the cliffside.

"That's alright. I just wanna see where Michelle was," Rossi responds, aimlessly walking around the area.

Water is heard rushing and Jo turns around, approaching the bank slowly, "This is where Michelle was found?"

Yarbrough nods silently, walking up next to her, "I really thought it was a prank."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Jo responds like it's the most obvious thing in the world, though she sort of does blame him for not taking Michaelle's claim seriously.

At the sound of dirt and gravel crunching, Jo turns to see Spencer suddenly beside her, his attention on the vast valley which lies behind the stream.

"Water obliterates a body and destroys evidence," He states, looking down into the water.

"But you weren't in the water that long, were you, Michelle?" Rossi asks to no one in particular from behind them.

Jo turns to him, face bold with confusion, "You know she's not...here, right?"

Spencer gives her a "really?" look, and the two older men ignore her, continuing.

"She had rocks tied to her to weigh her down, too," Yarbrough tells.

"Wait," Jo turns back to the water, "but she floated to the surface before there was any other damage?"

"Just what was done to her already, yes ma'am," Yarbrough confirms.

Spencer cuts in, "The salient point is that weighing her down was the first thing this unsub wasn't good at."

"Green river dumped most of his bodies in water, but they weren't weighed down," Rossi says, referring to a past case.

"Yeah. We know now it's because he didn't care if they were found," Spencer looks like he is putting the pieces of a puzzle together.

Jo finishes his thought without missing a beat, "he had no connection to them."

Spencer looks at her, nodding. He pulls out his phone to call Derek.

Jo pulls out her own phone, pressing a finger to her other ear, "Hotch? We need to start with Michelle's closest circle and work our way out."

It is clear that the Carrollton P.D. Precinct has seen better days.

It's a tiny building lined with a wood-paneled interior. The yellow fluorescent lights shining from the ceiling made the whole precinct look like it's straight out of 1975.

Even now, as the BAU charges through the musty building to reconvene, the whole precinct looks vintage.

"What did the three of you find at the dumpsite?"

Hotch approaches Rossi, Spencer, and Jo who work on their findings at a round table in the back of the building.

Spencer's head pops up first, Jo not paying them any mind as she works through her file still.

"Uh, Agent Rossi pointed out that since the victims were weighted down, the unsub didn't want them found which points to some sort of connection between them," Spencer speaks quickly.

Hotch's phone buzzes then with Garcia's specific ringtone.

"Garcia?" He puts her on speaker and sets the phone on the table.

"I've been running all of Enid White's credit cards. She made a purchase at 9 am this morning at a sporting goods store in Dallas." Garcia says.

This catches Jo's attention and she raises her gaze to the phone placed on the middle of the table.

"What did she buy, Garcia?" Jo asks.

"A shotgun," Garcia answers.

Derek shakes his head at Jo and she nods solemnly.

"Thanks," Hotch mutters and hangs up.

"Can she even buy a shotgun that easily?" Hotch asks Yarbrough.

"This is Texas," The detective replies.

"There's no license or waiting period for most rifles or shotguns," Rossi adds.

"There are more guns than people in this state," Jo points out reluctantly.

"JJ, call the Sporting Goods store, see if they have security surveillance footage from this morning, and find out if it was Enid or the Unsub using her credit card to buy the shotgun," Hotch orders.

"Right away," JJ says and is gone; she blends easily into the crowd of quickly moving officers.

All commotion stops, however, when a young deputy bursts through the doors.

"Detective Yarbrough? There's an urgent call from a woman on line one," The deputy informs, out of breath.

Yarbrough hits a button on the landline placed on the table, "Detective Yarbrough?" He answers cautiously.

The team stands around him and waits anxiously for the voice on the other end of the line.

"My name is Enid White," the shaky voice of a woman speaks.

There's a moment of relief in the air. She's still alive.

Enid continues, "The news reports said that the police didn't believe that other woman when she saw the missing fliers."

"That was a mistake, Enid." Yarbrough reasons.

"I have a gun. I don't think I can stay awake very much longer."

Hotch decides it's time to intervene, "Enid, this is Agent Hotchner of the FBI. We believe you and we wanna help you. Can you tell us where you are?"

"El Royale Hotel in Dallas. It's room six. I saw the fliers. Hurry, please. He's gonna kill me."

"Don't move Enid. We're on our way." Yarbrough says and the team is already halfway out the door.

Jo jumps into the passenger seat of an SUV with Morgan driving and Spencer in the back. They pull their vests on quickly and speed off toward the hotel.

They arrive at the El Royale and the three of them jump out of the car without a second to waste. They crouch over and begin to run toward room 6, guns extended sharply before them.

They are met with the rest of their team and they all file toward the room that hopefully holds Enid White.

"FBI!" Hotch shouts once in front of the door.

No answer.

He busts it down and they flood the room instantly.

It is an empty hotel room, save for a round, wooden table in the middle. On that table lies a white Halloween mask, and around it, a shit ton of copies of Enid White's missing person flier are scattered.

Enid White herself, however, is nowhere to be seen.

Jo breaks off toward the back part of the hotel room, gun still extended.

"Clear," She shouts back to her team upon finding the room empty, "Enid's gone," Jo informs them, tucking her gun back into her holster.

"There's difference's between the crime scenes,' Rossi states, "The mask, the posters being on the table instead of pinned to the wall."

"We need to gather your men and deliver a profile," Hotch informs Yarbrough.

Back to the precinct they go.

Upon arrival, Jo makes a cup of coffee before they deliver the profile. She is already feeling drowsy, and delivering a profile to a bunch of male police officers who certainly won't take a word she says seriously will surely put her to sleep. She needs caffeine.

Jo hurriedly enters the room in the back of the precinct where the rest of the team has already begun to give the profile.

"He's a white male," Derek says from the front of the room.

Jo joins his side a moment later.

"His shoe prints have been examined and put him at about 5'11'', 165 pounds." Derek finishes.

"So we've narrowed it down to anyone of average weight and height." Yarbrough lets out sarcastically.

This is exactly the type of smart-ass male police officer behavior Jo despises.

"Exactly," Jo says pointedly, "he may be physically average but mentally he is anything but." She remarks sassily.

Morgan smirks as he sees Yarborough suppresses a scowl.

JJ continues, "There's a sophistication and patience in what this unsub does. That suggests a level of maturity that is consistent in the crime scenes. That sound average to you?"

Hotch gives her a look, silently telling her to cool it.

Prentiss cuts in, "We believe this maturity puts his age in the mid-30s to early-40's range."

Spencer begins, "Michelle Colucci was taken from the primary crime scene and disposed of at the tertiary crime scene four days later. This means she was held somewhere for at least three days. You can't just hold a victim anywhere for days on end, so he most likely has access to a house of some kind." He rambles in his usual quick fashion.

Jo is surprised it's taken him this long to open his mouth.

"He's also fairly tech-savvy," Morgan adds, "The fliers were made on the computer and it's probable that he used a device to intercept Enid White's phone call."

Jo notes that as soon as Spencer and Morgan start to speak, all of the officers begin taking notes. Typical.

When she and Prentiss had been speaking all they received were either bored glances or outward, sexual leers.

Jo sips her coffee to distract herself from her annoyance, but the hot liquid ends up burning her lips, which just pisses her off even more.

"Witnesses in Enid White's neighborhood say they may have seen a white man putting up fliers, but none of them could describe him, even with all the media attention this case has received," Hotch tells.

"Great." A male officer in the front row mutters, earning laughs from his colleagues.

Fuck these men.

"Actually," Prentiss corrects the officer, "What that tells us is that there is absolutely nothing remarkable about this man. He is exceedingly average. As you said, Detective Yarbrough, average height, average build." She nods toward Jo.

The news playing on the small tv mounted to the wall of the precinct steals everyone's attention, "Police say the suspect left this white Halloween mask behind at the crime scene."

Jo's eyes widen. Hotch had given JJ strict orders to keep the detail about the mask out of the media.

"JJ how did the media get that?" Hotch asks, anger level rising.

Jo sips her too-hot coffee again.

"It wasn't from me," JJ defends, "I called all the local police stations and stressed the importance of withholding the mask."

Rossi strolls back into the room calmly, "I called them." He plainly states.

"I did not see that coming," Jo says to no one in particular.

The team exchange confused looks.

"What?" Hotch asks incredulously, stepping into Dave.

I would hate to be Rossi right now, Jo thinks.

"I said that the FBI thinks the mask means he's impotent. I think it will get home to call us." Rossi responds with a smile as if what he just said isn't completely insane.

Jo understands that the consequences of Rossi's actions can potentially be detrimental, but she is surprised by how ballsy and confident his decision-making is.

"That's pretty bold, Rossi," Jo says, not sure if she's impressed or dumbfounded by the stupidity.

"Not helping," Hotch shoots her a look before turning back to Rossi, "Can I speak to you for a second?"

He doesn't wait for an answer and leaves the room. Rossi follows.

Spencer whistles with raised eyebrows, "I would not like to be Agent Rossi right now," He voices Jo's earlier thought.

"Yeah, Hotch's wet-blanket attitude is way more amusing when you're not on the receiving end of it," She says, looking after them.

Morgan walks over to the two, "That was reckless."

"Wreckless? Maybe. Admirable? Kind of," Jo responds.

"Admirable? Rossi's working this case like it's a one-man operation. We're a team, we don't make decisions like that solo," Morgan argues.

You're a part of a team, you know that? Other people rely on you to contribute to the team.

Jo can't help Spencer's words seeping back into her head. He must have had the same thought because he looks at her worriedly as she replays the words in his head.

She replies, "Okay, but the guy's got like four best-selling books and a million years of experience under his belt, that's gotta count for something, right?" She's defensive, and Spencer wants to kick himself for his comment that is surely fueling this guardedness.

"Yeah, but that 'million years of experience' was a million years ago. A lot has changed since he was in the BAU," Morgan responds.

"Unsubs haven't changed, though." Spencer finally says.

She would never admit it, but Doctor Strange is right.

JJ's ringtone for Garcia starts blaring loudly.

"Garcia?" The blonde answers and puts Pen on speaker.

Spencer, Jo, and Morgan all watch intently.

"I got something for ya, Michelle Colucci recently drew up plans for a remodel of three floors of a company called Techo Communications. It's a high-tech communications company in downtown Dallas."

"And Enid White?" Jo asks, sensing where this is going.

"Worked there until two months ago," Garcia answers.

"Thanks, Pen," Jo says and JJ hangs up.

Hotch re-enters the room without Rossi, "Any updates?" He asks stiffly.

JJ begins to respond, "Garcia just called—" But she's interrupted by Yarbrough entering the room.

"The unsub's on line two, demanding to speak to the FBI," Yarbrough informs the team.

They share a surprised look.

Rossi's plan to get the unsub to contact them had actually worked.

They all look at the expert profiler, waiting for him to complete the next step of his plan.

He presses line two of the landline on the table.

"This is FBI Special Agent David Rossi." He answers smugly.

"You called me impotent," The haunting, gravelly voice of the unsub calls from the phone.

"Did I?" Rossi asks.

"I'm not impotent." The harsh whisper of his voice sends a chill through Jo.

"Why are you whispering?" Rossi taunts and it makes Jo gulp anxiously.

"You lied. You lied." The unsub says.

"Is someone around you? Are you at work?" Rossi presses further.

"You have to tell the news the truth." He is getting angrier with each passing moment, and Jo can't help but think of Enid.

Jo may have admired Rossi's unconventional way of profiling before, but this is getting a bit out of hand now.

"I'll get you on the news, and you can correct me yourself," Rossi is really pushing it, and Jo is sure that Enid's life is more at risk now than it was a few moments ago.

Jo looks at Hotch with pleading eyes, trying to get him to stop Rossi or do something before he gets Enid killed. Hotch holds her gaze for a moment before looking back at Rossi.

"No. You, you, you correct it." The unsub stammers.

The coffee settles in Casey's stomach, causing her nerves to spike and nausea to set in.

Rossi is relentless, continuing again, "By the way, I was looking at the police security tapes for the day Michelle Colucci went missing. You watched her long enough to know she didn't have visitors. Yet you knew that detective Yarbrough was coming over. You must have been right here in this station when he told her. Now, your face is gonna be on one of those tapes, and when I find it, I'm gonna paper this city with it. Just like you did with those women. Everyone will see it. They won't be able to ignore you now.

But you won't inspire fear, you'll inspire hatred and ridicule because the only power someone like you has is a mask." Rossi fires away.

Hotch catches Jo's pleading gaze again, urging Hotch to put an end to Rossi's rant because Enid White will no doubt end up paying for it with her life.

"Hotch, do something," Her low voice pleads to him.

Hotch obeys this time and holds a hand out to Rossi to stop him, but he presses on ignoring Hotch.

"And once that mask is removed, you'll be as insignificant as you've always been-a loser!" Rossi shouts at the phone.

There is finally silence from the unsub. The team huddles around the phone, barely breathing, waiting for his response.

"You just signed Enid White's death warrant." He says and the line goes dead.

The team files into their SUVs to make yet another urgent trip. They never stop moving.

This time, Jolene is driving with Spencer in the passenger seat and Emily in the back. They're racing to the Techo Building to try and find the unsub since this, so far, is their only lead.

Jo is driving about fifteen miles over the speed limit, which makes Spencer snd Emily grip whatever hard surfaces of the car they can reach.

Jo flicks the sirens on when she feels they aren't going fast enough, still. She plows past pedestrian cars sharing the road.

"Dude, slow down," Spencer warns.

"We don't have time to slow down because Rossi just cut the unsub's dick off over the phone. He's gonna act quickly and irrationally now, we have to beat him and find Enid first," Jo shoots him down with a shake of her head.

"We won't be of much help to Enid if we die before we get there," Spencer argues.

"Your nine Ph.D.s are showing. I can handle this thank you very much," Jo snaps.

Spencer sighs in defeat,knowing that once the girl has made her mind there's no changing it.

Spencercatches Emily's gaze in the rearview mirror, watching the interaction between them. When Spencer catches her watching, she turns to look out the window quickly.

These two are water and oil, Emily remarks to herself.

They pull up to the curb outside of the Techo Building. The SUV holding the rest of the BAU team arrives moments after they do. They all pile out of the large, black vehicles and start toward the large glass building.

The team enters through the wide double doors and Hotch asks Yarbrough, "The building is sealed?"

"Top to bottom." The detective confirms.

"Let's make sure it stays that way," Hotch tells and Yarbrough is gone. moment later.

Hotch calls Garcia quickly, "Garcia which floors did Michelle Colucci remodel? 7, 8, and 9? Thanks." He hangs up.

"Morgan, take 7. We're looking for a rank-and-file employee who made a scene in the last 20 minutes or who was here and gone quickly," Hotch instructs, "Prentiss 8, and Reid 9. Banks, stay here with us."

They all nod, "Don't approach him. Just try to get a name, maybe a picture." Prentiss, Morgan, and Spencer are all gone in the blink of an eye.

Jo's heart hammers in her chest at the thought of her team being on one of those upper floors alone with the unsub. This is what comes with the job, and she prays the members of her team aren't met with the same fate as her mother.

She even wishes for Spencer's safety, which drives her mad.

Rossi looks around the lobby once he's left with just Hotch and Jo, "He's somewhere in this lobby."

"What?" Hotch asks.

"Can't you feel it?" Rossi questions back, eyes scanning the room still.

The truth is, Jo can feel it. It's hard to deny the presence of evil in a room when you have experienced it so many times, even in a crowded room like this one.

"Display your credentials," Hotch orders the two.

"Why?" Jo questions, inconspicuously looking around the busy lobby.

"Show him the FBI is here. He thinks we know what he looks like," Hotch replies, not making eye contact.

The three of them pull their credentials from their jackets, displaying their badges on their breast pockets. They hope the unsub will see the badges and start acting suspiciously.

Just then, agents spot a suspicious man wandering about the lobby quickly, and he certainly fits their profile. Wordlessly, the agents move into action. They separate and begin to loosely surround the man.

Jo's phone buzzes in her pocket, "Yeah?" She answers quietly.

"The unsub's name is Max Poole. I found Enid's missing flier on his computer up here on the ninth floor. His address is 179 Elgin Drive." He tells her.

"Got it," She responds.

Make sure she's alright. She falls short when it comes to herself.

Spencer scrambles to speak before Jo hands up, "Be careful, okay?"

Jo gulps, an unknown feeling in the pit of her stomach appearing. She opens her mouth to respond but can't.

"All of you," Spencer adds, and Jo sighs relievedly.

"You guys too," She hangs up.

Max Poole moves toward the elevators, about to make an escape.

"Sir?" Rossi calls, pursuing him. The man doesn't stop.

Jo and Hotch move into place behind Rossi, all three of them slowly drawing their guns.

"Sir!" Rossi calls again when the unsub still doesn't stop.

"Max Poole," Jo speaks his name and he finally stops, "We have your address Max, there's no place to go."

"This is Agent Rossi, Max. If you do what you're thinking you won't get to tell them I lied," Rossi starts and Max still doesn't move.

"C'mon, Max, slowly put your hands on top of your head," He is unmoving still, "I know what you're thinking and you don't have to do it. It doesn't have to end here, Max. Please!" Rossi shouts, pleading with the man.

This finally gets Max's attention. The man slowly turns around to face the agents. His horrifically pale face will haunt Jo for the rest of her life.

As Max produces a gun from his waistband, the elevator doors open with a soft ding.

Derek Morgan has stepped out of the elevator and right into the line of fire.

Jo went on auto-pilot because she could already see this scene ending with Morgan bleeding out on the ground thanks to Max Poole.

Jo raises her weapon even higher, reacting to Max pointing his gun at Morgan.

Morgan is oblivious to what is going on, not even seeing Max standing behind him with a cocked gun. It all happens so fast.

"DOWN!" Jo shouts.

Morgan drops and rolls to the floor instinctively as Jo fires two shots into Max, followed up by an additional two from Morgan on the ground.

Max falls to the ground and the smoke from the bullets lingers in the air. All is still, but just for a moment.

Reid rushes off the elevator after Morgan and makes it to Jo's side quickly, having seen the whole shootout go down.

"Are you okay?" He asks quickly.

"Fine. I'm not so sure about Enid, though," Jo looks at Hotch.

"We need to make it to Max Poole's address, now," Hotch orders and the team is on the move, yet again.

They thankfully find Enid White alive in Max Poole's house.

Theteam is spread out across the dark jet, the only light coming from Rossi's overhead as he reads, and the dim glow of Jo's phone as she plays Word Hunters.

Everyone else is asleep.

Or so she thought.

Morgan quietly sits down in the seat across from her, observing for a moment.

Jo feels his staring and jumps, "I thought everyone was sleeping. You scared me," she sighs, hand on her heart.

"You're easy to scare," Derek says quietly so as to not wake their sleeping team members.

"You think he'll be a good fit?" Morgan nods his head over to Rossi who is lost in his book on the other side of the jet.

Jo looks over her shoulder at the older man, "I do, actually. I know he pulled a lot of crazy shit on this case but it worked. Kinda reminds me of Gideon," she smiles sadly.

"Kinda does, doesn't he?" Morgan agrees.

"Speaking of Gideon, you remember how I told you about the night I went to check on him at the cabin?" She asks.

Derek nods.

She's about to tell Derek about the nasty spat she and Spencer got into.

"Gideon left me a box." is all she says.

"And...?"

"It's an evidence box. All from 1995."

"Oh."

"Yeah," she agrees, "It has all of his notes on the case. Like, all of them. 7 years worth. There's—there's a lot of stuff in that box. And at the bottom was a note from Gideon, saying that I'm the only one who can solve the case," She confesses.

"Wow. I mean, that's a lot but it makes sense," Derek says.

"What do you mean?" Jo wonders.

"I mean, you survived that terrible night, your brother is still out there somewhere, and your mother deserves justice. You're one of the best agents the bureau has ever seen and you're only 24. I've always sort of known you'd be the one to solve it. I feel like it's kind of a fate thing," he looked at her earnestly.

She huffs a laugh, "People like me don't get the luxury of believing in fate," She looks down at her hands.

"Don't say that," He shakes his head.

"Sorry. I'll keep my depressing shit to myself," She smirks.

"That's not what I-"

"I know," She nods, "I know."

She wants to tell him about Spencer's words and how they wounded her. She wants to tell him how she thinks maybe the genius is right about her. She wants to.

She clears her throat, "I'm trying to play Word Hunters here, so if you don't mind."

He sighs, "Goodnight, kid."

He gets up and returns to his original seat.

Jo's eyes flit to Spencer, sleeping in the seat diagonal from hers.

Maybe you're right about me, doctor. Maybe you somehow know me better than I know myself. In some fucked up way, you can see right through me. We're more alike than I'd like to admit, and I need to know why that is.

He yawns and stretches then, Jo concerned that he can somehow hear her thoughts.

His eyes crack open, and he looks at her confusedly.

"What time is it?" His tired voice asks.

She looks at her phone screen, "4:19," and immediately goes back to Word Hunters.

Spencer yawns again eyes closing and drifting back to sleep a moment later.

"I didn't mean it," he mumbles in his sleep.

She is stunned, looking at his sleeping form with wide eyes.

"I know."

a/n... I'm sad. I love Spencer and Jolene so much. My vulnerable babies.

Sending good vibes to whoever needs them