Okay...this is my first fanfic story ever, so I might not be fantastic at writing these at first. I've worked pretty hard on this chapter and it's a little short, but I'm really proud of it. :) Anyways, I decided to start writing this story today when I watched the most recent episode of Nashville which I didn't realize existed until now...for some reason I thought episode 20 was the finale and I do not know how I managed to not know about this last episode because I absolutely adore this show. Now I'm missing the show a lot and the ending was very suspenseful and because I can't handle waiting for the season two premier in September I've decided to continue the plot myself a little.

Note: I do not own Nashville...I wish I did, but no I don't.

A bit of an overview: This story is probably going to be mostly about Rayna, Deacon, and, perhaps, Juliette. It will depict Deacons decent in to alcoholism/addiction and Rayna's attempts to help him. The story will also address the various issues Juliette is dealing with (coming to terms with the death of her mother etc.), as well as some of the other problems that arose with the other characters in the season finale. Anyway, I don't want to give away the whole story, but I do want to give you guys an idea of what might be covered in the story. Alright, that's that.

P.S. The story starts just as Rayna and Deacons car crash is about to happen.

"Dammit. Give me that!" Rayna said as she reached for the bottle in Deacon's hand.

"No" Deacon grabbed the bottle back sloshing a good portion of the whiskey over her shirt.

A seemingly unbreakable silence reigned for what felt like hours, but in reality was only a few minutes.

Then, softly, Rayna said "thirteen years." Again louder "THIRTEEN YEARS, Deacon."

"What do you mean thirteen years?" Deacon slurred.

"Look at you, Deacon. You're so drunk that you can't even remember how long you've been sober. Thirteen years you've been sober. Thirteen. And you throw that all away. You're going to have start from the beginning...start over." Rayna tried to concentrate on the road, but decided that yelling at Deacon was more important.

"This is ridiculous, Rayna. This is my goddamned life and I'll do what I want with it. Maybe I don't want to start over, maybe this is the way I want to be, maybe this is the way I'm supposed to be. Besides, we have more important things to talk about," Deacon shouted violently "like the fact that I have a child who I didn't know was my child even though I've known her her whole life.

Deacon's words started to get jumbled as he took another drink "It just doesn't...it doesn't. I have a daughter who I know, but I didn't know was my child and she's my kid. My kid. Maddie is my kid. What the hell were you thinking Rayna?"

Rayna averted her eyes from the road and once again lunged for the bottle of alcohol that Deacon grasped so tightly. "I can't believe you're doing this, Deacon. This is the reason I never told you about Maddie because you were like this when I was pregnant." She now had one hand on the bottle of whiskey, which Deacon was involuntarily loosening his grip on, and one hand draped over the steering wheel.

Deacon started to say something, but he trailed off when he saw the blinding headlights mere feet from the windshield. Rayna was still looking at him when the two cars collided. He was staring at her, her face swimming in front of his intoxicated eyes, and then he wasn't staring at anymore, and it was all black.

Rayna's eyes fluttered open. The ceiling was very white, and so were the walls. She rolled her head to the side and saw an IV sticking out of her arm. She heard the TV droning in the background and tried to focus "...Rayna James was hospitalized three days ago after being involved in an automobile accident. Sources say she is in stable condition, but has some serious injuries. Her family members have declined to comment on the matter." The news must be on. She tried to fight the morphine that was weighing down her mind; making her thoughts slow and incoherent. She knew that she had been in a car crash. She didn't remember the oncoming car...only looking at Deacon and seeing the despair in his confused gaze.

Rayna reached for the call button and slammed her hand down on it. A nurse came rushing in.

"Oh, good, you're awake." She said.

"Deacon?" Rayna questioned.

"Is Deacon the man that was in the car crash with you?"the nurse asked.

Rayna nodded.

"Oh, don't you worry, sweetheart, he was out of here a while ago. He had a broken rib and a dislocated shoulder but we fixed up his shoulder, and had him discharged the next day." The overly cheerful nurse kept talking for a while, but Rayna stopped listening.

"...he's all patched up and-" she interrupted the nurse "Did you give him any painkillers?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I imagine that they gave him something for the pain...a broken rib can hurt and the aftermath of a dislocated shoulder isn't pretty either," the nurse said.

Her mind started spinning. Deacon he couldn't have that stuff. The pills, the alcohol: he couldn't stop once he'd started. She had fought this with him before for years, but ultimately it had to be up to Deacon to fight the battle.

She realized the nurse was still there looking at her. "Is something wrong?" the nurse asked.

"What, um, no. Nothing. I was just wondering...when I might be getting out of here" she said gesturing to the hospital bed.

"Well, I can't say for sure. The doctor will be by to check on you in just a few minutes, Ms. James. He'll discuss your injuries with you," the nurse replied.

"Okay," Rayna nodded.

The light shining through the window was blinding. "Dammit," Deacon muttered as he pulled his blanket over his head and blindly reached for the bottle of alcohol that he'd left by his bedside the night before. He felt around for a while, but instead of finding his whiskey he encountered a hand. Startled, Deacon shot up and in return felt a searing pain in his side, he imagined it was probably his broken rib. He pushed away the pain and tried to focus. Sitting by his bed was his sponsor: Coleman.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Deacon asked groggily.

"I thought you might need some help" Coleman replied.

"I told you two days ago I could handle this on my own. You don't get to babysit me anymore. I get what I've done here, Cole. I messed up and all I can do is try to start over!" Deacon shouted.

"The fact that you think that last time we spoke was two days ago tells me something's wrong. Because the last time I was here was almost a week ago. I left you alone for a week...I tried to do what you asked. You know what Deacon? No one's heard from you for a whole week and a lot of people are worried about you. So, I thought I better come over here and check on you." Coleman said.

"I've been going to meetings everyday" Deacon lied. "I'm trying best. Okay, Cole? I am just not ready to talk to anybody yet."

"I would believe you" Coleman paused for a minute "except for the fact that there were about eight empty bottles of beer laying around here."

"Oh, Cole, don't worry those were from...before. I just haven't gotten around to cleaning them up yet. I'm a little bed ridden if you haven't noticed." Deacon patted his ribs and faked a chuckle.

"I know you. Also, there was half finished bottle of whiskey on the table by your bed. Guess you couldn't clean that up either?"

Deacon stared at Coleman.

"Don't worry I cleaned that up for you...It's gone."

"Cole" Deacon gave him a pleading look.

"It's gone" Coleman repeated.

Deacon tried to restrain himself, but failed. He gave Coleman one last raged filled look and then grabbed his coat and stormed out.

He slammed the door so hard that bits of plastered rained down from the ceiling for several minutes after wards.

Rayna hadn't really had the chance to wrap her head around the pain that she was in. When she had first woken up her worry about Deacon had distracted her and she hadn't really noticed the torturous pain- the morphine may have helped too. Needless to say, now she did notice the pain. In fact, she found it impossible to escape it for even a second. All she wanted was to have one peaceful second. One second in which the pain wasn't tearing her insides apart.

The one thing that annoyed her the most, however, wasn't the pain...it was the painting on the wall. The damn abstract painting in it's neat little black frame. She couldn't figure out what the hell the painting was supposed to resemble. Honestly, she thought it looked like something that a child would draw. A child, piecing different shapes together. She wondered if they would have to piece her back together. Actually, in reality, the pain was far worse than the painting, but since the painting was her only distraction in the room, which was otherwise entirely white, it was quite bothersome.

Rayna couldn't get anything out of the nurses, either. Two hours ago they had told her that the doctor would be with there soon to tell her what was wrong with her. Two hours later and the only visitor that had frequented her room was a nurse who brought her orange jello that tasted vile. She thought it was appalling that they would withhold information about her injuries from her.

She heard the phone ring and reached for her cellphone. She was surprised at how long it took her to realize that she didn't have her cell phone. Another minute and she was able to locate the telephone, hung up on the wall by her bed, and answer it. When she picked it up she didn't actually say anything. She decided since she was the one with the crippling pain that she would just wait for the person on the other end to say whatever they needed to say.

"Hello?"

It was Teddy.

"Hello?"

"Yes," Rayna said.

"Rayna. Oh my god. Rayna. Are you okay? Wait. What am I saying? Of course you're not okay. What happened? I mean...I know what happened. Oh god, Rayna. I'm just glad you're alive." Teddy gushed.

Rayna was conflicted. They were divorced...why was he calling her like this? Then again, not to long ago they were husband and wife, so of course he would call her. Then, it struck her: he was probably calling about the girls, her girls, who he was taking care of.

"I'm fine," she icily "how are the girls?"

"They're worried. Rayna, they're so worried about you. I'm so sorry I haven't brought them to visit you. I just wanted to get the OK from you before I did. I don't know what kind of shape you're in. Do you want to see them?" Teddy asked.

"I really would love to see them, but not now. I still haven't had a chance to to talk to the doctor. And the nurses won't tell me a damn thing. I don't even know what the hell is wrong with me. And there's nothing to do, but stare at this painting and eat jello. You'd think that they could at least put a mural in here or something...maybe a TV?" Rayna complained.

"Okay? Rayna...I'm sorry about the painting, I guess. Regardless, there are things we need to take care of. I've spoken to your publicist: we need to issue a statement. You can't believe what people are saying: they're saying that you were intoxicated when you were driving. You weren't, were you? Anyways, that needs to be addressed and-" Rayna cut him off.

Rayna ignored the fact that Teddy had really, truly just asked her if she was driving drunk. She was infuriated, but she pushed down the rage.

"Listen Teddy: I can deal with this myself. I would really just appreciate one favor," Rayna stated matter-of-factly, "I have no idea where my phone is, but I'm thinking it's lying broken in a ditch wherever we crashed. Can you run downtown and get me a new phone? Sorry, I know it's a lot to ask. Actually, you know, you could just call my assistant and ask her to do it. I just can't deal with any of this stuff when I can't get a hold of anyone. I don't know if broken in a car crash is something that is covered under the warranty, but if not I'll pay you back. Just get the same phone I had before."

"You know what? I'll go down right now and get it for you myself. You had an iphone 5, right? I'll get it to you as soon as I can. It'll be an hour an a half tops. Don't worry about paying me back...you've got enough to worry about already." Teddy replied eagerly.

"I most certainly will pay you back," Rayna said sternly.

"Well, don't worry about it."

"Thanks, Teddy. Bye."

"Alright, be right there. Bye, Rayna."

She held the phone to her ear for a few more minutes and listened to the dial tone. Reaching over, she attempted to put the phone back on the hook, but she missed and the phone clattered to the floor.

She gave up on trying to put the phone back, instead she stared at the ceiling and listened to the continues beeping that it produced, then, "if you'd like to make call please hang up and try again..."

Deacon knew he was being irrational. He knew what he was doing was stupid. It wasn't as though the rational human part of him had disappeared. The thought that he had a child, however, was so shocking that it crushed every shred of reason that was left. The only way he could handle it was to not think about it and the only way he could stop thinking about it was to drink. He needed to be numb, he needed not to feel, just for a little bit.

He was in South Nashville. Just past where 2nd avenue met Lafeyette. Deacon wouldn't be caught here and he was very much aware of it. This is where he used to go years ago to buy cheap whiskey at the liquor store and score drugs in the dark alley ways.

Deacon fished around in his bag, pulled out a scratched up shaving mirror, the bottle of Oxycontin that the doctor had prescribed, and a razor blade. He could see his reflection as he placed the oxy on the mirror, pushed down on the pill with the razor blade and crushed it- distorting his face. He pulled out an old business card, divided the crushed oxy into parallel lines, rolled up the card, and snorted the drugs.

He let his head fall back onto the head rest and relaxed as a feeling of utter bliss washed over him. This was a familiar feeling, almost like nostalgia, something he hadn't felt for a long time. He missed it. Searching his mind he attempted to remember what he was so worried about, but he couldn't recall.

"Maddie," Deacon muttered. Yes, that's what he was worried about he realized. However, he couldn't concentrate long enough to figure the rest of it out. His thought was interrupted by the extreme heat that suddenly attacked his body. Flustered, he climbed out of the car, lay down, and pressed his face against the cold concrete.