Chapter Text
Chapter 1: JJ’s Replacement
The air was cool and wet as Reid rolled his luggage across the tarmac. Unusual weather patterns for the season and region, but that year had truly been a meteorological wonder for anyone following. Morgan trotted up beside him, slowing so they could roll their suitcases together. "You got here to see the new girl too?" He teased in greeting.
"To what?" Reid replied. He had almost forgotten there was a new girl. Maybe he was still in denial that this would be their first case without JJ around. "Oh—no I get here at this time. Every time."
"Of course you do," Morgan laughed, shaking his head. They loaded their bags into the cargo hold Hotchner and Prentiss arrived soon after and then Gideon, a full hour early from departure.
"You all here for the same reason?" Morgan asked. Hotchner raised his eyebrow. "Okay maybe not Hotch. But you two?" He pointed.
They played dumb, waving his accusation away. They were all here to solve a case. But still, tension roiled in the morning mist as they stood together beside the jet, waiting for JJ's replacement. The shadows stretched in the dark blue light, and not a word passed between them until she appeared as a shadow in the mist.
Isolde Elliot strode across the tarmac in a sharp blue suit. She was younger than Reid expected—a slender woman in her 20's—but she carried herself with a certain aristocracy. Her clothes fit well, her accessories matched—she even had a dainty gold wristwatch set to EST. This was their new communications liaison. Another blond, the team noted. But definitely not JJ.
"Am I the last to arrive?" She asked in greeting. Her voice was soft with a posh accent. If she was nervous to see them all at once, gathered and waiting, she didn't show it. Instead she studied them with unnerving hazel eyes. They were friendly enough—but that's what unsettled Reid. He could sense a sharp perception underneath, churning like blood in the water while glinting like diamonds in her eyes.
"We're early," Hotchner said. He himself had gotten caught up in the anticipation that brewed at her arrival. It only made him brusque, and he didn’t stop to introduce her as he lowered the steps and began boarding.
"I'm assuming you're Isolde Elliot," Gideon noted as they followed.
"Yes—"
"Jason Gideon." He said. "Special Agent Derek Morgan and Special Agent Emily Prentiss. Dr. Spencer Reid." He pointed them each out and Isa followed his words with the same gaze as before. The kind that seemed to notice everything, even behind the warmest smile.
"We'll quiz you later. But fair warning, I'll laugh if you call me Reid." Morgan flashed a grin and climbed up the steps next. Spencer followed close after him, offering a small wave as he avoided eye contact.
"I'm glad you're here," Prentiss said. Isa followed her gaze to the jet interior where all the men settled into the cabin. "They didn't give you a word in edgewise, huh?"
"Well in all fairness, Dr. Reid didn't ask for any himself," Isa replied good-naturedly. Prentiss smiled as they stepped onto the jet.
"Hotch said you're an Oxford grad. What brought you to the US?" She asked.
"My father is American. Technically, I was born in Toledo," she replied. Prentiss's eyebrows shot up. She said it so proper, so pronounced. Tolito! Isa ignored the weight of the quiet that came from the team listening to them talk, and she didn't offer any more information. "What about you? Where are you from?"
Prentiss talked about her parents—who were evidently high ranking diplomats—and then gave a brief explanation of her time working cases in the Midwest before joining the BAU. "So you're the queen here," Isa teased.
"That's right." Prentiss said, shooting a look to the boys around the jet.
Then she went to her seat, leaving Isa with the solitary place in front JJ used to occupy. It was the quietest space in the cabin for when she would have to take calls mid-flight. Isa set her purse down, withdrawing a book and headphones. While everyone was focused on trying not to watch her, Gideon propped his chin in his palm and stared at Reid, amused.
Despite his obvious caution, the boy was transfixed. His mind was spun with a thousand theories and questions. Anyone else might have missed it—in fact, everyone else did—but Gideon saw the completely illogical curiosity in his gaze. For once, Reid's interest had nothing to do with brilliance. It's just a boy seeing a pretty girl, Gideon thought to himself.
He waited a few moments before turning to Isolde. "What are you reading?" Gideon called.
She took out one headphone and glanced at him across the jet as the pilot prepared for ascension. "Mansfield Park," she replied. "I thought it would keep me busy for a time. You?"
He lifted the cover with a self-effacing smile. The Anatomy of Pain. Isa's face broke into a glorious smile as she read the title. "I was hoping to see some Anne Rice from you."
"Not quite."
Meanwhile, Reid was stricken by this exchange and deliberately turned to his sketchbook. Still, he occasionally glanced up at Isolde, reading Mansfield Park. Gideon turned back to The Anatomy of Pain, but there was a smile on his face. He had just laid the trap for Reid, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his curiosity sprang it on him.
🦋...................♥️....................🦋
"This is a team of unsubs who follow the typical pattern of one dominant partner, one submissive. They are males in their late twenties. One or both of these unsubs has done hard time, but they will not present that way. They are able to con their way into the victim's homes, rather than running a blitz attack. " Hotchner said. The team had been called to Denver to investigate a series of family homicides in the area. "They will be aware of the news, but will not seek to insert themselves into the investigation. Their crimes are committed out of a personal rage, not for notoriety."
"They don't want to be caught," Prentiss said. This was too bad, considering the team was hot on their heels already.
"Then we don't want him to feel pressured. In these cases, the submissive person in the pair often spooks in the spotlight, sometimes leading to a confrontation between the unsubs. It might cause a drastic escalation," Reid said.
Gideon nodded. "Which means we will deliver the profile to the squadron..."
"But not to the press." Morgan finished with a razor sharp grin. Here was the new girl's test incoming.
"What would you like me to tell them?" Isa asked. Either she didn't understand the implication of not delivering a profile, or she was brave enough not to react. Essentially, they were sending her in front of twenty bloodthirsty journalists to say, 'the police have nothing' on camera…on her first case.
The crowd outside would crucify her.
"I'll type a statement for you this time myself," Hotchner said. Maybe he didn't want to flounder for another replacement so soon, or he didn't trust her not to completely screw the case. But his tone left no room for her to argue the point.
"Alright."
"You're brave," Prentiss noted. "They're not going to be happy."
"They shouldn't be. Two families are dead," Isa said, deliberately misunderstanding. "I'll be alright. The public's morbid curiosity can wait."
"I think you'll find them more vicious than you expect," Hotchner said.
"I don't think I will." Isa replied.
In that moment, Reid realized what was so unnerving about Isa. Her mind spun at the speed of light, but she leveled it with a cool confidence. He hoped she was good. Reid didn't think he could stand to see her crash and burn after she responded so flatly to Hotchner's overstep.
As if to take her challenge, the unit chief dismissed himself to type the promised statement.
"It's going to be worse now," Gideon chuckled. "He won't give you a single foothold to work with."
"I don't need one from him," Isa said incredulously. To her, their reticence was frustrating. They had hired her to be their communications liaison, but now held their breath as if waiting for her to fail.
The team let it lay, as if to say it's your funeral. In a room of profilers, she could guess a thousand things they saw underneath it. She was young. Opportunistic. Brash. Arrogant. Female.
The next hour, the team gathered in the press podium outside the precinct to see her first show themselves. Isa stepped onto the podium with a sophisticated calm as she glanced over the statement in front of her. Then, her eyes flitted upwards for a split second as if to say, you wanted to see me read this? Hotchner could feel her gaze even across the rows of reporters, finding him through the crowd.
It was a wry, intentional look.
"Did you hear that, Hotch?" Morgan grinned, tipping his head towards the podium. The unit chief didn't respond, even as she began to read his statement verbatim in a polished cadence. She'd said she would go out there, and she did. But the real test started as she said, "I'll take questions now."
The media erupted. Hotchner's statement was brief. It was vague. It warned families not to answer their doors to strangers, but held no confidence of the law making any gains on the killer slaughtering families in Denver. And now Isa was out there with the singular purpose of defending them to a press looking for someone to blame.
"Who is the leading officer investigating this crime?" A reporter called.
"Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner is investigating these crimes alongside the Behavioral Analysis Unit." Simple. To the point. She turned to the next reporter, using names with ease. "Yes," she nodded to the reporter in the back.
"Are they unable to release a profile? What details do they know about the killer?"
Isa deliberately began rereading the statement, to which he waved her off to answer something else. "What are your credentials Ms. Elliot? I mean, Jerome fit the type well enough, but now they've got a Barbie." A wiry man with curly black hair called. Isa realized that she recognized him from the job dossier provided by the bureau. This wasn't a Denver reporter. His name was Rodney Mallard, a freelance journalist in the southwest who was a vocal skeptic of the BAU. He often travelled within the area when the team took cases in his region. He stalked their movements in the media. Isa raised her eyebrows as he added, "I just wonder if you're qualified, you know."
"Yes, women are allowed in the FBI, Rodney. Thank you for saying that I look like Barbie. Next question." The reporters chuckled as she fielded a few more questions then ended the conference with the promise of an update soon.
"What was that?" Reid asked.
"Her first appearance on Rodney Mallard's blog."