"So he just…never said anything about it?" Penelope asks.

Jo squeezes her eyes shut and chuckles lightly at having to repeat herself yet again.

"Nope."

"Not at all? Not one word?" Prentiss pushes as she hovers over the girl's shoulder. .

"No," Jo says slowly, hoping to finally stop their nagging.

"Where did you two get the notion that my father and I ever speak to each other?" She looks at Derek for back-up.

He only raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms.

"Well you called him out infront of most of the FBI, the place where we work. And he is the boss. Like the boss man of all boss men. Like he could fire us all with the snap of his fingers-"

"Garcia?" Derek says, a grim smile painting his face.

Penelope's jaw drops and she places a hand in front of her mouth in surprise.

"Sorry, baby," She looks at Jo apologetically, "I do find what you did incredibly admirable, though."

"Why thank you, PG," she bows her head, "I obviously didn't go in there looking to chew him out. I was just surpr-"

"Quiet please?"

Hotch breaks the gossip circle as he enters the round table room with JJ in tow. Emily and Penelope return to their seats and Jo rolls her shoulders back.

Jo thanks him silently with a half-smile that Hotch seemingly ignores.

Ouch.

"Hush you guys, the boss man is here," Jo places a finger in front of her lips.

Prentiss laughs at her, Derek smacks her arm, and Hotch tilts his head, almost urging her to continue.

He does not, however, find her amusing.

"JJ?" He shifts focus.

"Officer Letch in West Bune, Texas shot this video just before he was killed."

On the big screen behind her is video of burning cop cars and a house that had seemingly just been blown up.

There are two corpses on the ground outside of the house dressed in police uniforms.

The video plays, showing a gruesome montage of yelling and explosions. Shortly after the video starts, Spencer enters the room hastily and sits.

Even though Jo stumbled into the office this morning on two hours of sleep and a red bull, Spencer's absence was the first thing she noticed that morning. The curiosity of his whereabouts haven't left her mind.

"Sorry I'm late."

His hair is disheveled but he tries to brush it from his face. His shirt isn't tucked in and his signature messenger bag isn't placed on his shoulder but hanging lazily off of it.

"I hope that she was worth it," Rossi says. Derek laughs and Jo sucks her teeth.

"I hope it was a she," She says.

Derek laughs even louder before getting another disapproving look from Hotch.

Jo doesn't laugh this time and Spencer, for once, finds her hostility shocking.

"Sorry, I was at the movies," Spencer says, the added defensiveness in his tone jumping out when he sees how Jo is looking at him.

Somehow it is simultaneously deadpan and accusatory.

He tears his eyes from her and pulls a case file out, sitting at the table quickly. He shakes his head.

"Really? A movie, huh? Why don't you tell us what it was about?" Rossi prods.

Spencer's eyes dart around his team before going back to Rossi. His cheeks are red and Jo thinks he is just so naive.

"Uhm I had to leave early so I really couldn't tell you-"

She taps his wrist and her eyes meet his briefly before settling into a patronizing gaze.

"They are fucking with you, sweater vest." She says.

"I know it's late, I know we're tired but we have two dead cops."

The subtext in their boss' voice is not easy to miss, so they glare at each other one more time before looking at the screen.

When had she started calling him sweater vest again? He thought he had finally shaken the term of spiteful endearment.

"Alright, resident of the burning house Rod Norris was DOA. They're still trying to ID the second person who was in the house, whom they believe is his sixteen-year-old daughter Jordan," JJ says.

"According to the remains, she had to have been inside the house and close to the source of the blast."

"Clearly they used the bombing to set the officers up for an ambush," Prentiss says.

Spencer nods, "It's a well established terrorist tactic, first wave takes out civilians-"

"The second wave takes out first responders," Jo finishes.

"I was-I was getting there."

"Well, get there faster."

"You want him to talk faster?" Prentiss says.

"If the battle of the geniuses is through?" Rossi says.

Jo's eyes find Rossi staring at them, then she sees the whole team is staring at them and she feels immature.

She shrugs indifferently, though, and the older man rolls his eyes.

"The locals are thinking terrorism? In West Bune, Texas?" Derek asks, leant back in his swivel chair.

"Not exactly a tier one target, but DHS did issue a terror alert for the bordering states yesterday, due to the timing and nature of the attack-"

"I've never heard of this place. I mean the militia, okay that I can see," Derek interjects.

"Yeah well it's close to the border. Traffickers could be trying to send a message," Prentiss offers.

"Whoever it is, they gunned down two cops and blew up a teenage girl. 'Til they're stopped no one in that town is safe," Rossi says.

"We need to be cautious with the locals. They've lost two of their own. They're anxious, they're scared, and they're gonna want revenge.

"Can you blame them? I can't." Jo says.

Hotch almost scolds her, but he tilts his head and considers what she just said.

"Wheels up in twenty."

The Texas sun blares down on the crime scene mercilessly.

The atmosphere is dusty at the explosion site. It's hard to suck any air into your lungs and even when you do, it feels like your chest is being weighed down by a cinder block.

The team follows behind JJ as she snaps into her usual role of greeting the local detective. Jo is sweating her ass off, wiping her forehead every few minutes. She regrets her choice of wearing dark, muted colors today.

"Sheriff Hallum, I'm Jennifer Jareau. Good to meet you. This is the team, Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Doctor Reid and Doctor Banks."

"Agent Banks," Jo nods at the Sheriff.

"Good to meet all of you," Sheriff Hallum nods back.

"First victim, Rod Norris?" Hotch immediately sets the team on track, not bothering with many pleasantries.

"Manager of the chemical plant over at Ibis. No arrests in ten years since his wife left him. I don't blame her for leavin' him, it's just a shame she left Jordan behind."

"What can you tell us about Jordan?" Hotch asks.

"Sweet girl. A bit slow."

"Slow?" Jo asks, her brows pushed together, "You mean she was mentally disabled?"

Sheriff Hallum looks at Hotch and Derek, as if to mock the young woman standing in front of him. They don't smile back at him.

"Not quite. I think her mother leaving took its toll," The Sheriff corrects with the slightest glint of condescension in his eye.

JJ and Hotch continue to talk to the Sheriff, but it sounds like blah blah blah to Jo. Hallum had picked the wrong person to belittle and her attention is already on the charred house standing limply in front of them.

She laughs under her breath and pulls her blue latex gloves on, slipping away from the group without notice.

When five idle minutes go by talking to the Sheriff with no interruptions, Spencer looks around to see what has stopped Jo from her incessant interjections.

She's gone, and he doesn't even take a moment to decide that he is going to find her.

Through a shattered window now sealed over with wooden two-by-fours, he sees her cargo-pant-clad legs wandering aimlessly through the kitchen of the home.

He sidles around the back of the home and enters the kitchen through a hole blasted into the wall.

Everything is charred and blackened, only a few countertops and half of a dining table remain in the wake of the explosion.

He knows she hears him, as the floors creak horrifically under his weight. She does not turn around.

She's wearing a black tank top and dark green cargo pants with big pockets sewn into the sides. The boots she is wearing climb halfway up her calves, laced in an intricate cross pattern that hugs her sculpted legs tightly. Spencer can see she is much stronger and more built than he ever will be.

"What do you see?" He asks, when her silence starts to make his skin bubble with irritation.

"The blast was localized here," She says, pointing to the doorway of the kitchen.

"Room's been sealed off, too. There's some plastic and duct tape left on the doorway," She references the wall to reveal fragmented strings of plastic swaying in the breeze.

Her mouth is sewn into a straight line and she still doesn't face him, or acknowledge him beyond responding verbally.

"There's some plastic left on the windows, too," he offers.

She shrugs and he huffs a breath through his lungs.

"What is your problem-"

"Cordite. Gunpowder."

Rossi enters the room and picks up a pale filled with the black dust from the ground.

Jo finally turns around at hearing his voice and accidentally makes eye contact with Spencer.

"Yeah, they found a dozen Cordite canisters," Spencer says, now avoiding her gaze, which she finds petty and uncalled for.

"Well the concentration of damage puts the canisters here," Jo steps over some shards of glass and wood to get closer to the blast site, "by the front door."

"He seals the kitchen, blows out the pilot light trapping the gas in here near the primary charge," Rossi says.

"So, if Jordan were right where I'm standing between the charge and the window," She says.

"Boom. Rod Norris ends up in the tree outside, and Jordan ends up over in the field," Rossi says.

Jo nods at him and Spencer walks away from them.

Jo watches him with her tongue in her cheek.

"They didn't care about the rest of the house, though. The whole thing's designed to focus the blast on whoever came through that door," Spencer draws out.

"Okay, but what was the trigger?" Rossi asks him.

"Rod Norris must've been a smoker," Jo picks up a pack of burned Marlboro 100's from what is left of the kitchen counter, "And they knew he'd be coming through this door."

"And they knew he'd be smoking when he did it," Spencer finishes.

"Marlboro 100's? Terrible choice, Rod."

Jo chucks the cigs back to their place before heading out of the beat-up kitchen.

Spencer frowns.

He is following her back outside, more scornful than before, and finds her with Derek, Hotch, and Sheriff Hallum.

"Did the perp and Rod Norris know each other?" He hears the Sheriff ask.

"Enough to know Norris would enter through the back door smoking," Jo interjects.

"And enough to know that Deputy Savage would be on duty and would respond," Spencer adds.

"So, what're we talking, here?" Hallum asks.

He's unsure of how any of this information could be useful to the investigation, which is typical of these small-town detectives. Jo looks at Hotch to explain, as she is through talking with Sheriff Hallum.

"This wasn't terrorism, domestic or otherwise. Terrorists rarely know their victims, at least not personally," Hotch says.

"You think you know this because the perps knew Rod Norris was a smoker who used his back door?" Hallum questions.

Maybe she isn't through talking with Hallum.

"And because he shot Deputy Savage in the face," Jo says and the Sheriff looks at her challengingly, "At point blank range, if that wasn't already enough."

"They weren't being thorough?" Hallum questions.

"No," Derek cuts in before Jo has the chance to respond, "He walked past Officer Letts who was alive, shoots Savage in the face when he knows he's already dead."

"First responders were on the way. That last shot was overkill, risky overkill at that," Jo crosses her arms.

She bends down to get a closer look at the section of bloodied ground in front of her, which is sealed with caution tape.

"Overkill means rage, rage means a close personal relationship. Rod Norris and Deputy Savage were the specific targets of this attack," Spencer says.

"Sheriff, can you think of anyone who has a close, personal connection to Rod Norris and Deputy Savage?" Derek asks.

"Well, I didn't think about it because of the terror alert, but…"

"What?" Hotch presses.

"Owen. Owen Savage," The Sheriff admits, "Deputy Savage's son. He was dating Jordan Norris."

Derek and Jo's eyes immediately find each other. Well, there you go.

"Well Sheriff, that would have been a great place to start," Jo looks at the man, "Lou Savage's son was dating Jordan Norris?"

Hotch excuses the Sheriff and the group, divvying out assignments in his standard fashion.

"I'll never get used to these honky tonk ass detectives," Jo says under heat breath to Derek as they break from the group.

"I don't think they'll ever get used to you either, sweetheart."

"Why don't you like being called Doctor?"

Jo rips her eyes from the road to look at him for a moment.

"Huh?"

"You corrected JJ earlier when she called you Doctor Banks. But you are a doctor."

"Oh," She pauses for a long time.

"No reason. People look at me differently when they find out."

"Really?"

"Yes. I think that they think that I think I'm smarter than they are or something. Which is definitely probably true, I just don't want them to think that."

"Hard to follow, but yes. I've never experienced that-"

"Because you're a man."

"I was getting there."

"Where were you today?"

Everything stops. Well, except the SUV. Jo and Spencer are both still and silent, and he doesn't know whether to lie or come clean.

Considering she was the person to see him in the gross, vulnerable state of drug-induced whimsy, he decides it's pointless to lie.

He keeps from looking at her as he tries to decide, only fiddling with his hands in his lap.

"Uh, what?"

"Were you really on a date?" She asks brazenly.

Oh.

"Oh, that. No. No, definitely not."

She releases a breath, gripping the steering wheel and occasionally glancing over at him.

"Then where were you?"

"It's impolite to pry."

"I'm not beneath prying," She says and his lack of response makes her uneasy.

Maybe he really was with a girl. Her knuckles are white on the steering wheel and Spencer notices her jaw tick.

"Well, if you really want to know, I was at a meeting."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Like a…?"

She glances at him and adjusts her hands on the wheel.

He nods.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you…tell me that."

He nods and looks out the window.

This is what you get for being a bitch, Banks.

"Does anyone else know?"

"Hotch."

"Really? Wow. Kind of surprised to hear that honestly," She says.

"He knew I was using-uh, something, and encouraged me to go to some meetings."

"How long has he known?" She asks.

"A little bit before you did."

Wait-Hotch knew Spencer was using before she did and didn't do anything about it? He just allowed Spencer to suffer silently while pushing him to continue working? "Encouraging" him to go to a fucking NA meeting and that's it?

"Oh. well good. Good for…you."

She's smiling but stiffens her mouth and bites the inside of her cheek. Good thing Spencer is looking out the window.

He points to a yellow house, "It's up here on the left."

"I know how to read a GPS. Doesn't take an IQ of a million and a half."

Hotch and Derek are already milling around the house when Jo and Spencer walk in. They part from each other's sides as soon as they cross the threshold.

Sheriff Hallum is standing in the corner, observing Hotch and Derek's work with a skeptical eye.

Jo jumps into the conversation immediately, asking Hallum, "Where is Mrs. Savage? I don't see anything to suggest a woman lives here."

"She died. Drunk driver in '02," he says, "Lou was in Afghanistan and Owen lived with me until he got back."

"Semper Fi," Spencer mutters, peeking into the kitchen of the home.

"How long was Savage in the Marines?" Jo asks.

Her interest in Deputy Savage's inner life piques when she notices all of the photos he has hanging on the walls.

"Twelve years. He was discharged to raise Owen."

"So that's why Savage resented them," Jo nods, taking her focus off of Hallum and putting it toward the living room, eyes raking the furniture.

"Resented them?" Hallum questions.

She pauses, the tone in Hallum's voice making her go wide-eyed before she composes herself.. She looks at the first person she sees for help.

"Uh, did Lou blame his wife and son for ending his career in the Marines?" Spencer cuts in.

She is not surprised he accepted her silent plea, but she is surprised to hear the depth and harshness in his tone.

"Lou was a good man."

Spencer grips the strap of his messenger bag tightly. His knuckles are white the way hers had been.

"A good man who doesn't have a single picture of his dead wife or only son anywhere in his house?" Spencer asks, the sarcasm hard to miss.

When Hallum looks like Spencer just spat on his face, Hotch takes a step forward.

"I know this is hard and if we had more time we'd be more sensitive, but we don't."

Hallum sighs, and Dererk and Jo make eye contact. She shrugs with a frown and Derek shakes his head.

"Hope, Lou's wife, was the drunk driver in that accident. I didn't write it up that way, but…"

"Her drinking wasn't a secret around town?" Jo asks.

"No," Hallum confesses, "It wasn't."

"The gun safe was empty."

Spencer stands in the middle of Owen's bedroom and looks over his shoulder upon hearing her voice.

She is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watching him steadily as he works.

"That's a surprise," He says.

He bends at the waist to look through Owen's bookshelf.

"So, Owen, this is where the magic happens, huh?" Jo says, eyes gleaning over the messy, smelly, teen boy room.

She wanders in slowly, simultaneously looking around the room and at Spencer's back as he works. Whatever changed in him downstairs, whatever caused his demeanor to turn hostile has not relented in him.

"Look at this," she looks up at a poster hung above the computer desk, "James Deen's car. No photos of Deen himself, though. Not a good sign, especially when your mother died in a car accident."

The poster is black and white, and depicts the remnants of Deen's smashed up car.

"I always liked Van Damme better, anyway," He muses, fingering through books on Owen's shelf.

Jo wipes her palms on her cargo pants. Spencer notes her silence and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"We still haven't found the father of the year award," Spencer says.

"Hm," She hums, "Well I definitely won't be any help in finding that."

Jo turns to look at him now, but his back is to her as he continues working.

"You check the computer already?" She asks, walking over to the desk. She blows air through her lips lazily. Her attempts at getting him to open up leading her down constand dead-end roads.

"Password encrypted," He answers shortly.

"Smart move if your dads a cop," She laughs lightly.

"Assuming he cares enough to snoop."

She turns to him again, brows creased at how he keeps shutting her down.

"You might wanna cool it, Okay?" She says and he finally pauses his movements.

"That Sheriff out there was ready to take your head off. I think Hotch might've let him."

"He didn't look too pleased with you, either," Spencer shrugs, opening a drawer on Owen's night stand.

Jo places her hands on her hips, "Yeah, well, the cops that I work with always tend to have issues with me. That's not typically the case with you, goody good boy."

Spencer resumes working and Jo shakes her head and returns to the task at hand as well.

"All of his clothes," she shuffles through his dresser, "Are black," She produces handfuls of black garments.

"Same here," Spencer calls standing inside the closet.

"Like his friend Mr. Cash, here."

Jo nods to another black and white poster of Johnny Cash.

"So, he identifies with being the misunderstood loner. You know, I wish all our unsubs tacked their profiles on their walls like this," She chuckles, a sad attempt at a joke, and he is stoic still.

She looks at the boom-box that sits on the bedside table and the wrack of CDs next to it.

"Radiohead, Limp Bizkit, Weezer?" Jo shuffles through the CDs, "God, this kid gives total incel vibes."

"Incel?" Spencer scrunches his face together.

"Incel. Involuntarily celibate. Figured you'd know all about that, doctor."

She walks out of the room.

"Figured you'd know all about that, doctor," He mocks and follows her out.

Being back in highschool is traumatizing.

And, as Jo, Hotch and Spencer follow behind Owen's guidance counselor, she notices not much has changed about the public education system in the eight plus years she has been out of it.

There are obvious clicks and loners, and she remembers exactly what it felt like to be one of those kids in highschool. A loner.

"What can you tell us about Owen and Jordan?"

"Not much. They started dating last year when Owen got moved to Special ED."

"Junior year?" Jo asks, "Isn't that a bit late?"

"If he'd been put there for academic reasons, yes," The guidance counselor agrees, "The problem was a bad attitude and lack of effort. Owen applied himself, he did well in some classes. But it didn't last."

The bald man pushes an office door open and the three agents step inside, "Here we are, my office. We can talk here."

"The problem was't a lack of effort or bad attitude," Spencer flips through the file he's holding, "In math and science he was an A student. The Ds and Es in english tell us he has difficulty reading.

And the F here in geometry indicates a severe problem with spatial relations. Further confirmed by his atrocious, illegible handwriting."

Spencer shows the guidance counselor and Hotch examples of Owen's handwriting.

"Wait, I wanna see," Jo tries to peer at the paper.

"I figured you'd already figured this out, since you know everything," he says.

"Are you really gonna throw that in my face right-"

"All of this," Hotch clears his throat, "is consistent with a brilliant, yet severely learning disabled student."

"His standardized test scores did not support this kind of intelligence," The guidance counselor denies.

"But a spatial relations handicap affects your hand-eye coordination. He couldn't fill in an answer bubble any easier than he could hit a baseball," Spencer says, his voice getting louder with every word.

"Which is why he stayed away from sports," Hotch says.

"Did he?" Jo asks the counselor, "Stay away from sports? His father was an athletic man, and if Owen was willing to do anything to gain his approval…"

"He actually did join the wrestling team, freshman year. Sports were a sore spot for his father. I had assumed Owen only joined to appease his old man, but it didn't work out."

"Huh," Jo looks at Hotch.

The phone in the office rings, and the counselor excuses himself to answer it.

"Owen was probably the smartest kid in class, he just couldn't prove it," Spencer shakes his head sharply, looking down at the case file.

Jo watches him but doesn't say anything.

Spencer approaches Hotch, dropping his voice to a whisper. Jo can't exactly hear what he is saying, but she can make out enough.

She picks at her nails and does a poor job at pretending not to listen.

"Being the smartest kid in class is like being the only kid in class. He missed all of it," Spencer says.

"But schools like this can't meet the specialized needs of every student," Hotch responds with a shrug.

"He gives it everything he's got over and over and over again and continues to fail," Jo watches in sneaky glances still as Spencer's voice starts to raise,

"And the whole time the-the whole time they keep telling him it's his fault! I mean, it makes sense."

"No it doesn't," Hotch refutes sternly, "An undiagnosed learning disability doesn't add up to this level of violence. Not without severe emotional abuse, you know that."

Hotch's eyes flicker to Jo once or twice during his conversation with Spencer, but when she catches his gaze she shows Hotch she's unsurprised by the way Spencer is reacting.

Jo's phone buzzes in her pocket which breaks Hotch and Spencer's stare-down.

They look at her immediately and she pretends to look away before bringing the phone to her ear.

"You got something, Der?" Her voice is awkward and high-pitched.

She doesn't like being caught in the middle of an argument.

"An MPEG on Owen's computer. You really need to see this."

"Send it over," She hangs up.

"Morgan's got something on Owen's computer, he wants us-"

Spencer walks straight past her and out of the room.

She looks at Hotch for guidance, no pun intended, and they follow out after him.

"What is his problem?" Hotch asks her lowly.

"What's his problem?" She asks, adding a snarky layer to her voice, "You tell me."

He is going to ask her what she means, but a voice down the hall stops them.

"Banks."

It's Prentiss calling out to her as she and JJ stand by a classroom door at the end of the hall.

"We need you down here," JJ nods to the door.

She sighs, "I'll see you."

"Hey, see if you can find anything on Kyle Borden, he's one of the three missing teens who disappeared after the explosion."

She turns to go, before stopping, "Are you gonna go check on Doctor Strange?"

"He'll-" Hotch thinks, "He'll come around."

"Jordan was the gentlest girl in the world."

A friend of Jordan's, Eileen, sits on one of the classroom desks with JJ and Prentiss standing in front of her.

Jo is seated in another desk a few feet away, feet propped up on the desktop as she surveys Eileen's behavior for deception.

She chews her thumbnail in boredom and anxiety and her boot-clad foot bounces up and down.

Eileen swallows, "Jordan could never hurt anybody."

"Eileen," Prentiss begins, "Can you tell us about Jordan's father?" Her eyes briefly flicker to Jo.

Jo had asked Emily before they went in to start the questioning with Jordan's father.

She knew there has to be more to that story than whatever bullshit Hallum fed them earlier.

"He thought she was dumb. She wasn't. She'd get the answer if you'd give her time, but he never did."

"Did he ever hit her?" JJ asks.

Eileen nods, and all three women sigh. Jo was right.

"She thought she deserved it?" Jo asks.

JJ and Prentiss turn to look at her, but Eileen says, "Yes. She did. At least until Owen came along."

"Were they in love?" Prentiss asks.

"Oh, yes ma'am. I thought she was gonna die when her dad took her phone away. She didn't have a computer, but Owen bought her a PDA for email. He set it up so it wouldn't ring unless it was Owen or me."

"Owen took care of her," Prentiss deduces.

"He tried. Whenever anyone said anything bad about her, he'd stick up for her. Always."

"What would people say about her?" JJ asks.

"When Jordan was a freshman there was this senior who…took advantage of her."

Prentiss sees Jo squeeze her fist and move her head so Eileen can't see her face. Prentiss figures she is silently cursing.

"He told everyone about it. That's how we became friends. You know, I thought she needed someone to look out for her. Guess I didn't do a very good job."

"No, you're wrong. She's lucky to have a friend like you," Prentiss says.

"Okay Eileen. We're done here. Thank you so much," The girl grabs her backpack and starts to go.

"Eileen?" Jo calls, standing up from the desk, "Can you tell us anything about Kyle Borden?"

"Kyle was the senior who took advantage of her."

Jo pulls out her phone.

Once Eileen is gone, Prentiss and JJ turn to Jo who already has her phone up to her ear.

"Was she lying?" JJ asks.

"No, she was truthful," Jo shakes her head, "Incredibly truthful. No deception whatsoever."

"She's brave," Prentiss says.

"Hotch? Jordan was the motive for Kyle Borden. He wanted revenge."

She is the first back out in the hallway.

She scans the children milling about for Hotch but she sees something else.

At the end of the hallway a lanky figure is storming out of the school, clearly with no intention of looking back.

"Hey!"

He pushes through the wide double doors of the school, letting the sunlight into the building briefly before they close behind her.

She jogs after him, looking left and right. He is walking away from the school with a hand on his forehead.

"Hey! Where the hell are you going? There's a kid out there with an assault rifle treating this town like a firing range, blowing up cops and shit?"

She's jogging down the concrete stairs to keep up with him and she's out of breath before she reaches the bottom.

"Slow the fuck down," She orders, "You're acting-"

"What, princess?" He spins around, coming face-to-face with her, "What now?"

Woah.

His jaw is set tight and he breathes rapidly through his nose.

"I just want to know where you think you're going? You're a part of a team, remember that? Remember when that was so important to you-"

"You're right. I am a part of a team. And right now, it seems like everyone on said team is turning against me for not immediately thinking Owen is some maniacal criminal. He's just a kid-"

"A kid with an assault rifle."

"Whatever," He brushes her off and turns around to continue his retreat.

After a few steps, he turns back around to face her.

"You know what? No. Go ahead and keep regurgitating the same shit that Hotch spews out of his mouth. That's all you can do, right? Be his little puppet, do his bidding and try and make everyone simultaneously like and fear you?"

"You're being mean."

She can't believe she said it, and she can't believe she feels stinging behind her eyes and scratching in her throat.

She blinks rapidly.

"Sorry."

"You're really fucked up, you know that? The shit you say to people matters," She says.

She crosses her arms and looks away from him.

"I said I was-" He groans and runs his hands down his face, "I said I was fucking sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I feel like shit about it all every single day. You know, you're not so innocent in this, either."

She takes two steps back from him, face contorted in questioning and trepidation.

"What the hell are you talking about-"

"You're so keen on reminding me how awful I am but can't even look in the mirror to see it in yourself, Jo. Maybe that's why you love to torture me. It's like you're torturing yourself, which is all you really want."

She holds her tongue, knowing her silence is her greatest weapon against him. Especially after a comment like that. A comment she will refuse to believe is true.

"Look, I'm trying here. I'm trying to help Owen," Spencer says.

"Dude, this isn't just about Owen. There's a sixteen year old girl and three missing boys somewhere out there-What about them?"

"What about him! Owen?! No one's ever cared about him in his entire life-"

"Why do you have to be the first?" She says.

"Someone has to do it-"

"You can't save everyone, genius. God! Why the fuck does your obnoxious, soccer-ball sized brain stop working at the most inconvenient times?"

"You don't understand-"

"You better get this shit together before you fuck up the whole case. You can't just-just work a case a certain way for your own personal benefit, okay? And you had the nerve to talk about the way I do my job."

"Maybe it's just hard for me to admit you're better than me. At profiling, at bickering, at everything."

"Now, that, I can believe."

A moment ago her vision was white hot anger, ready to fight with him until he proves she is right. But he just handed it to her on a silver platter.

She looks at him now, how his resolve has left him. Probably due to exhaustion, she thinks. But still, while his know-it-all, quippy attitude is annoying, seeing him broken like this hurts more.

She doesn't know what to do. Reach out and touch him, maybe on the shoulder, to show her support? Crack a joke to try and make him laugh? And furthermore, why is she scrambling for a way to make him feel whole again?

"I almost mistook you two for a couple of quarreling teenagers. I thought, no. Those aren't FBI agents in front of the high school bickering. There's no way."

Rossi stands beside the pair who didn't notice him through their "argument".

Neither of them say anything.

"Do we need to send one of you back to Virginia?"

"No. We're good, Rossi," Jo nods her head and Rossi looks between them.

Though Spencer's eyes are cast downward, he nods at the man, silently telling him they are okay.

Rossi tells them they are needed inside and Jo asks him for a minute.

Rossi's brow creases as he looks between them again. Spencer is still, his head bowed toward the ground, and Jo looks at the Doctor like she is prepared to do whatever it takes to care for him. It's the least she can do, considering the way he saved her life at the Founder's Ball.

Rossi hides his smirk and winks at Jo before beginning to retreat back to the school.

"You got five minutes to win the boy over," He whispers in Jo's ear as he passes.

They are alone again, but this time it feels like a puzzle, or maybe a maze. Something has shifted between them, besides the distance which Jo has slightly closed by taking a step toward him.

"You okay?" She asks.

"No. Honestly I just want to go home."

"Well, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can have a date with Voltaire and your Obi-Wan figurines."

He cracks a smile, still looking at the ground, "I don't have any Obi-Wan figurines. You know that."

"Yeah, but," She bends down to find his eyes, "Now you're smiling."

He nods and starts the descent back to the school. Jo follows him.

"You were upset this morning," He shifts the conversation from himself.

"I'm always upset," She jokes, relaying the things that she's heard others say about her.

"No, you're not. Spiteful, sure. Determined, definitely. But you were upset this morning."

She won't admit it's because she thought he was on a date with some nameless, faceless girl who was nicer and more palatable than she is.

"I…stuff with my dad, you know?" Her voice is clipped and wobbly.

Before he can ask her anything else, she opens the front door of the school for him, allowing him to enter before her.

He shakes his head and decides to let it go.

Trying to figure her out while on a case is futile. He needs his entire brain capacity plus some to do so.