Jason Fine, editor for Rolling Stone, during an interview for Walk The Line: Extended Edition, talks about the morning he spent with John and June, while writing ‘A Day in The Life of Johnny Cash,’ December 12, 2002. [x]
“ We were walking through the house, and there was these old trunks. June told me in the ‘70s maybe ‘80s, Johnny was going through the trunks, and found all these love letters, that Elvis had written June back in the ‘50s. And these love letters made him really angry. So he took all the love letters, from Elvis, and he went out on his canoe in the middle of the lake.
And he ripped them up and threw them in the lake. She’s telling me this, and he’s just sort of looking and nodding, and then she looks at him and says. ‘Johnny those letters would be worth a lot of money now.’”
A/N: I am so humbled by the amount of love the first part of this new Spencer x Reader story has received. I do not own any characters, lyrics or images. xoxo Stu
***Update: I wanted to apologize with the chronological error I originally made in a paragraph about Hotch. It had Haley and Jack in Witness Protection too soon. A genuine thank you to everyone for not being judgemental about it, it has been fixed! xoxo Stu***
Inspiration: Katy Perry’s ‘The One That Got Away’ and Darlin’ Companion sung by Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash
Setting: Season 4 Rating: Teen Warnings: Grief, Teen Angst, Bad Kissing
Spencer Reid had held Y/N until she had cried herself to sleep on the floor of her hotel room. He very carefully covered her half-naked form, cushioning her head with extra pillows from the bed they hadn’t made it to. He remained there, watching her sleep, the gentle rising of her back a hypnotic rhythm. Spencer did not want to leave her, but she needed more rest than he had time to give. He sat at the oddly placed desk, found the hotel stationary and prepared to write Y/N a confession.
Hotch had the hotel issue wake up calls for the BAU team at 6:30am. Spencer had made it back to his (much simpler) hotel room around two in the morning. The four hours of sleep left the doctor with an anxious stomach. After showering and dressing in a very typical Reid ensemble; he headed to the lobby. It was there he, naturally, bumped into Prentiss at the coffee cart.
“Morning Emily,” Spencer’s soft voice greeted the black haired beauty.
“Well, well, good morning, Reid,” Prentiss teased, feigning surprise in seeing him.
He remained patient, anticipating all the inevitable questions he would be fielding after leaving the team at the precinct to return Y/N’s luggage the previous night. His utter exhaustion was ensuring a shorter temper than was strictly professional.
“Late night?” Prentiss pressed after taking her coffee from the barista.
“You could say that,” Spencer nodded, his voice cracking. “How was your evening?”
“Mine?” Prentiss sighed, “Wild night. I took a bath and passed out to the hotel access channel.” She waxed sarcastically. “See you by the cars, Reid.”
Spencer placed his order, thanking the barista with a slight tilt to his head. He noticed Hotch near the entryway, speaking on his cell phone. Hotch was on edge with The Reaper in the wind. Spencer felt awful for him, knowing Hotch had lost his marriage to the job already. A tenuous situation was that much more paralyzing for someone like BAU chief Aaron Hotchner, someone who had to be in control.
The team assembled into the waiting SUVs and returned to Pasadena Police Department shortly after 7:30 am. The team dispersed into the previous decided assignments; Reid and Prentiss going through Y/L/N’s contacts and research. Just after 8 o’clock, a distinguished man in his fifties was escorted to the office the BAU had annexed for the case, by Detective Chang.
“Agents,” Chang announced,”This gentleman claims to be the guy who wrote the threatening letter sent to Dr. Y/L/N last month.”
“Who are you?” Emily Prentiss approached the new suspect.
“Byron Osbourne, ma’am,” the man nodded to the female agent with an English lilt to his voice. “I saw the press coverage footage this morning and knew I had to come forward before anything got out of hand.”
“Dr. Y/L/N is dead,” Spencer uncharacteristically spat at the man,”I would say we are passed out of hand.”
Agent Prentiss eyed Dr. Reid suspiciously. She then formally arrested and cuffed Mr. Osbourne. After reading his Miranda Rights, she passed him to the stocky lead detective who escorted him to interrogation room 1.
Spencer was quick to make the call to Quantico. “Garcia? We need background on one Byron Osbourne, a possible British national. He just voluntarily admitted to writing the suspicious letter Dr. Madison mentioned that Graham received nearly a month ago.”
“Good Morning, to you too, Boy Wonder,” Garcia grumbled. “I am all over this, but in the mean time… “How’s your reunion going?” The savvy analyst coyly pounced on the inexperienced doctor.
“I am going to hang up now,” Spencer responded testily, “And catch the unsub that killed my mentor.”
“But!” Garcia couldn’t use her vicious wit against a grumpy and determined Reid.