Work Text:
David was exceedingly tired of the trickle of ‘sorry for your loss’ calls. The calls had mostly been from people who didn’t know either him or Caroline very well, people from his childhood neighborhood who had know his parents back in the day and felt the need to say something even though they had been divorced for decades by this point. There had been a correspondingly higher number of cards from the same general group, but those were easier to read and then ignore. His mother would have tucked them all into a box as a remembrance, but David didn’t see the point and tossed them.
This call was at least one of his contacts, so he gritted his teeth and answered it. “Hello Will.”
“Dave,” his cousin answered. “I won’t ask if you’re all right.”
“I appreciate that. What’s going on?”
“I was reminded that you might be able to help me with a little problem I’m having.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Joan’s graduating with her master’s this December and I’m pretty sure she’s got her eye on the FBI.”
That was a surprise. The last David had heard about Joan was his cousin complaining about how flighty she was, since she’d changed her focus part of the way through her master’s studies and changed the topic of her thesis completely. “Did you want me to put in a good word for her at the academy?” He would do it if Will asked and if he personally thought Joan would make a good fit.
“I want you to talk her out of it, if you can.”
“You don’t think she’d make a good agent?”
“I think she’d be a fantastic agent. I also think law enforcement will get her killed, sooner rather than later.”
David had spent his entire adult life, other than that short span of retirement, in dangerous jobs. He knew that Will was no different. They both knew the risks and rewards and had shepherded rookies through the ranks on countless occasions. Was it simply different when the baby agent was also family? It was hard to think about discouraging someone from his own chosen vocation if they were well suited for it.
“No promises, but I’ll talk to her,” he eventually agreed. “Can you send me her thesis? What makes you think she’s considering the FBI?”
“She’s already got her application to the academy filled out,” Will said. “Asked me to look it over and see if there was something she should add.”
xxx
Dave was usually at the mercy of the BAU’s erratic scheduling, so when Joan offered to meet him at a coffee shop on a day when he was actually in town he agreed immediately. He’d read her thesis, and while the overall tone was perhaps a little optimistic she’d had a few workable ideas about improving the intersection between mental health and law enforcement.
Joan was waiting for him at an outside table despite the slight chill in the air, a paper cup of coffee in her hands as she watched the foot traffic go past. She startled slightly when he sat down across from her, but he had a feeling that was less about her situational awareness and more about how closely he resembled her father given how she was looking at him with slightly wide eyes.
“I forgot how much you two look alike,” she said finally.
“It’s been a few years,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. Despite certain stereotypes about Italian families he’d never been especially close to his extended family and he hadn’t seen Will in person in almost a decade.
There was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “You even sound the same, a little. Now I just need to hear you scolding someone in Italian because someone washed the mushrooms and overcooked the pasta.”
“Which one of you did that?”
“Luke.” The smile came into being then as she sipped her coffee. “They’re fungus, they grown in dirt. Then he got distracted with science when monitoring the pasta.”
“And where were you?”
“On salad and dessert duty. Dad feels like Luke and Kevin need more help than me when it comes to cooking, since Mom says I picked things up pretty fast.” She poked at the sad-looking pastry on a plate in front of her. “Coffee here is really good, but this Danish needs help.”
Dave took a sip from his own coffee and agreed. “Your dad thinks you’re going to try for the FBI.”
“I’ve already got my application in at the Academy,” she said, matter-of-fact. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to ask you to do anything about that.”
“I didn’t think you were. Your dad wants me to talk you out of it. He’s afraid you’ll get yourself killed if you go to the FBI. Law enforcement in general, actually.”
“If I’d stayed in social work, I’d have burned myself out,” Joan said. “I figured that out halfway through, which was why I changed my focus. I wouldn’t have been able to act nearly enough to help in that field. I probably wouldn’t have been in much danger, but it wasn’t something I would be able to stay with long-term.”
“So why the FBI?”
“I think I’ll have the best combination of some distance from the cases with the ability to act and help there.”
It wasn’t the worst reason he had ever heard for joining the Bureau and as far as he was concerned, he had tried to talk her out of it. He sipped his coffee and regarded the young woman. “You started doing some of the groundwork?”
“I started PT over the summer. That’s probably one of the things that made my dad suspicious, because I hate running but I did it anyway.”
“Your work experience?”
“Four years as a TA while I worked on my master’s in social work, plus volunteering at a juvenile detention center.”
It wasn’t bad, as resumes went. Assuming she passed the initial tests she would probably be selected even if he stayed hands-off. “Are you sure that this is what you want?”
“I’m sure if I don’t try for it, I’ll regret it.” Joan had a steady gaze that probably made people slightly uncomfortable if they met it long-term, and he was suddenly very curious about how she’d do in his chosen field.
“Working at the FBI is a bit of a relationship killer,” he warned. “I don’t know many agents who are doing well on that front. I’ve got three ex-wives myself.”
“Don’t pretend to count your Vegas marriage and annulment as a casualty of the job,” she joked. “I remember the family gossip about that.”
“There’s also a high chance of being injured in the line of duty. Everything from being shot or stabbed to getting burned or hit over the head or in a deliberate car wreck. That’s all happened to at least one person on my team.”
“That’s the way it goes everywhere,” Joan countered. “At least this way I’ll be trained to handle it.”
“You would not believe how much paperwork is involved.”
“I’ve been working as a TA for the last four years. That’s probably what I’m best prepared to handle.”
Dave leaned back. “If you make it through, we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
Joan squinted at him as she finished off her coffee. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“A little of both,” he admitted. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”