Hello there, hiatus fighters! Anyone else going through withdrawals yet? Yeah, thought so. I've been sitting on this story for a while, I changed it and tweaked it and almost deleted it a number of times, but here it is. The second half of season 3 was pretty awesome for us Deyna fans, let's give these writers some credit for a change, I mean sure there was this liver cancer thing going on, but I'll take cancer over Luke Wheeler any day of the week, sorry. All that being said, many times after watching a particular scene or even an episode I found myself wondering "That's it? Why isn't there more to this?", so I thought I'd fill in those in between scenes/episodes gaps the writers have so nicely left and create a sort of missing scenes story. This is just what I imagine Deacon and Rayna would have thought/done if their scenes weren't cut short to make room for other story lines and characters *coughs* Layla and Jeff *coughs*.
The first chapter begins right before Rayna's wedding to Luke (stop laughing people, I know those four words put together sound even more ridiculous now, but show some respect for that dead story line, c'mon) and covers episodes 10 and 11.
Many thanks to my beta, my boo, SparklingEnchantress for bearing with me and being super supportive and infinitely sweet and patient. You's da best!
I didn't have the chance to thank all of you who took the time to leave a review for "Has Anyone Ever Written Anything For You", it meant the world to me and you guys rock!

I hope you'll hop on this other happy train of mine and enjoy this ride as well, I encourage you to share your thoughts, ideas and critiques. They're all welcome.
Happy reading y'all!

T-Minus 7 hours and 32 minutes to the country wedding of the year.

I gave up on sleep three hours and two cups of chamomile tea ago, if anything that concoction has made me more vigil and alert than I was before. Funny thing is I hate this tea and drank it with the sole purpose of falling into a deep comatose sleep. How very naïve of me to think that a cup of tea would quiet my head. That's a job for tequila or vodka or wine...damn I should have gone straight for that half empty bottle of Chianti Tandy and I didn't finish earlier.

The house will soon be swarmed with people: hairstylists, makeup artists, florists, photographers, people magazine's reporters that probably broke the bank to secure the exclusive on this wedding. My hair alone is getting a double-page spread in the magazine special edition that will be on newsstands next week. Hopefully there will be enough champagne tomorrow to get me through all the painful hair twisting and pulling and pinning and curling.
I feel a headache coming on already.

My eyes wander and as I look around the bedroom I've been sleeping in for the past fifteen years, I realize it looks oddly smaller. It's like the walls are closing in on me or something. Yeah the walls, even the damn walls don't look the same since Luke has come into my life. When exactly did that giant abstract nonsensical painting, that surely cost a fortune just to get framed, replace my girls' portraits? I can't pinpoint when the hell I let him talk me into getting rid of them or of my favorite cotton sheets, or of that insanely overpriced La Mer body lotion only because he doesn't like the scent. Those sweet faces that I loved waking up to were stashed away somewhere in the attic, taking along with them life as I knew it.
I miss them so much.

Walking into my closet the first thing I see is that white dress hanging off the mirror frame, it's hard not to notice it. Has the white of this fabric always been so bright or is it just the light in the room? It seems a bit too much all of a sudden, too white, too shimmery, just too something. This isn't the dress I'd picked, this isn't the dress I wanted. It's the runner up, the second choice. Paparazzi got a picture of the original dress and in less than an hour it was all over the internet, spoiling the whole thing for me and ruining the one single thing I'd actually decided on all by myself for this wedding. I have no idea what we decided on as the filling for our cake in the end, if we went for the raspberry mousse or the German chocolate or the white chocolate filling, hell I don't even remember if my bouquet flowers are hydrangea or peonies...err...maybe both, I don't know. All I asked Luke for was picking out the dress myself, no second opinions, no meddling, no nothing. I reach out and touch the dress one more time, inspecting its bateau neckline and inlaid diamonds and pearls. This dress is beautiful, it looks great on me, I feel comfortable in it, everyone loves it and yet it's just not the right dress.
Ironic how I always end up settling for second best, one way or another, in my life.

The ring on my left hand feels heavier than it usually does. I take a deep breath and slowly slip it off. Holding it between my fingers I look at its reflection in the mirror. When I don't have it on I can see it just for what it is: a seven carat diamond. Tonight this is just a ring, there are no particularly fond memories attached to it, it doesn't hold any "until love us do part" hope behind this shiny exterior. It's weird, but for the first time I actually understand why every tabloid in the Country refers to it as "the rock".
I wonder when it started weighing like one on my chest too.

This isn't the life I'd imagined for myself and my kids when I said yes to Luke. Maybe I should have seen it coming, he did propose in front of seventy thousand people after all. I signed off my every right to a private life right then and there. I constantly feel like I'm on stage giving a performance, even when the lights go out and I'm in the safety of my house. Now my children want to go to boarding school and trade school buses for private jets, I've got complete strangers in my house yelling "cut!" as I kiss my fiancé under the mistletoe and instructing me on how to hang stockings upon my fireplace so that I won't screw up the camera angle with my arm.
Crazy, this is fucking crazy.

The house is completely silent, the right side of the bed is empty and the voices in my head are getting louder and louder. Maybe I am getting cold feet, maybe Tandy is right this is what pre-wedding jitters feel like. I wouldn't know, the first time I got married it all happened so fast I didn't have the time to actually process what was happening around me, let alone feel jitters or whatever. All I could feel back then was nausea. It's a wonder I managed to walk down the aisle that day without vomiting on my daddy's arm.
"At least morning sickness is something you will not have to worry about tomorrow," I reassure myself.

Maybe Luke and I should have eloped. That doesn't sound half bad right about now. Maybe, just maybe, that would have saved me from this restless night and the sure-to-come dark circles under my eyes. It's almost funny how my eleven weeks pregnant younger self wasn't even half as scared to get married as my mother of two-Highway 65 CEO self is tonight. I can't find a reason for it. Or maybe I can. That younger Rayna was on a mission, she was on a journey with a destination: giving the life that was growing inside of her a loving home. This Rayna doesn't have a mission or a destination to get to, this Rayna is just purely terrified that thirteen years from now her soon-to-be ex-husband will stand in front of her accusing her of having had an emotional affair the entire time they've been married.
Again.

The cover of Rolling Stone stares mockingly at me from the spot on the vanity it's been occupying for days now. "The comeback of Country Queen" reads the headline and I can't help but laugh bitterly. This cover came at a price, a big one. I worked my ass off for almost thirty years in this business to get my hands on this much sought-after prize and yet there is not a single thing I regret doing more than this interview. I pick the magazine up and start flipping through the pages until I find it: the infamous thirty-one lines long column I've read at least a dozen times before.

Elvis and Priscilla, Johnny and June, John and Yoko, behind every great man is a great woman, but in her case Deacon Claybourne seems to be the hidden secret behind her success. "He definitely had a role in it," admits Jaymes.

The star-crossed lovers have started in this business together, with Jaymes front and center and Claybourne - an extremely talented guitar player and songwriter who struggled with an alcohol addiction for most of his adult life – backing her up. Their musical collaboration has produced many hits for the reigning Queen of Country, last but not least her latest number one "This Time". Their collaboration didn't stop at music though, seeing as the two also have a daughter together (ED. Rayna's oldest daughter 15-year old Maddie Conrad, whose real paternity was revealed just last year). Rayna has been married to Nashville's current in-office Mayor Teddy Conrad before and is now engaged to Luke Wheeler, but rumor has it she and Deacon had rekindled their romance before his relapse and the infamous car accident that put Claybourne in jail and Jaymes in a two-week coma last fall. Would the two former lovers still be together today, hadn't Deacon fallen off the wagon?

"I don't know," she sighs, "Maybe."

Deacon's alcoholism is something Jaymes doesn't feel comfortable talking about, "It's a painful part of my past, I am just grateful he is sober now and that those days are behind him."

I ask if this is what ultimately broke them up and pushed her to keep her daughter's paternity a secret for so long. "I put Deacon in rehab five times. Five. I tried just about everything to help him fight his demons and nothing seemed to work. At one point he was still sick and I fell pregnant, I had to do the right thing. I chose our daughter over him and I'd do it again if I could."

She recounts how many times she'd come back to her hotel room only to find him passed out on the floor holding an empty bottle in his hand or how many times she'd had to post bail for yet another one of his DUIs. "It was one thing for me to live with him and his addiction, but to put a child through all that? No, I couldn't do that to my baby girl."

Despite all the heartache and sorrow Rayna has been through, "I hold no resentment for him," She candidly says. "We made beautiful music together, we made a beautiful daughter together, we have so much to be proud of that we did together. He and I will never get away from the fact that we were one for so many years. Just because it wasn't written in the stars for us to end this journey together, it doesn't take anything away from what once was."

I notice she uses the past tense when talking about Claybourne, a sign she's probably closed that chapter of her life. And how could she have not? Her impending nuptials to king of country Luke Wheeler are only a few weeks away. Jaymes has happily moved on, whereas Claybourne seems to be stuck on the same page, unable to find happiness for himself away from the country superstar.
"Of course I want Deacon to move on. I want him to be happy, why hasn't he? You'll have to ask him," is the last she concedes to me on this matter.

It's bullshit. This is all bullshit. I know exactly why he hasn't moved on, he's made his case very clear on more than one occasion. He loves me. It's that simple. But then again nothing is simple or easy or uncomplicated when it comes to the two of us. Not anymore at least. There was a time when all I needed was a blanket, a rusty old guitar and his leg tucked in between mine. That's young love for you, the kind that makes you believe that as long as you've got each other you can face anything and anyone, that you're invincible. Then you grow up, the blanket becomes too short, the rusty old guitar is out of tune more often than not and there's usually three of you in bed when you wake up in the morning, you him and his good buddy Jack Daniels. You're not that invincible together anymore, you're not all he needs anymore. You are just not enough for him anymore.
Maddie wouldn't have been enough either back then.

Deacon did nothing but prove me right when he walked into a bar instead of his daughter's life when he found out the truth. I would have forgiven him for it, God if only I didn't get into that car that night outside the Bluebird. I can feel tears forming in my eyes. I had to almost die to realize I couldn't save him. That night Deacon gave me the power to feel entitled to thirteen years of lies. When he turned to the bottle rather than to me for help, he gave me the right to turn his proposal down and accept Luke's six months later, he gave me the freedom to make another terrible mistake, to let history repeat itself.
Damn you Deacon, damn you to hell.

I jumped in my car and shifted it into gear before Scarlett could stop me. I promised her I would make it in time for the doctor's appointment, but I knew the drive to Belle Meade would take twenty-five minutes without traffic and I will never get to the clinic on the opposite side of town in time. Still here I am, foot pressed onto the gas pedal, listening to some crappy morning radio show.

"Well, well…not only has the wedding of the year been called off today, there's also a video going viral of Luke Wheeler and Deacon Claybourne, Jaymes's former lover and baby daddy, engaging into a fight in the latter's front lawn." I scoff at the male radio host as he dishes on the latest dirt he's got on the Ruke drama.

"No way!" Gasps a female radio host through the speakers.

"Yes way!"

"But Ruke seemed so happy together."

"Well half of Ruke doesn't look very happy in this video, especially because Claybourne is beating the crap out of him here."

"Why are you adding insult to injury?"

"I'm just sayi-"

"Oh for Christ's sake!" I turn the radio off and focus back on the road in front of me, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. No matter how much my right hand hurts and how far away my knuckles look from regaining their usual color, it hasn't sunk in quite yet.
She's called off the wedding. She's left him. Sure just like she'd done with her divorce from Teddy, Rayna didn't bother to inform me with a call, a text or even a smoke signal, but to hell with it.
She's called off the wedding and today, for that, I can't wipe this damn smile off my face.

I need to talk to Rayna, I just have to look her in the eyes and see what they hold. She didn't exactly come running through my door and thrown herself at me, that within itself doesn't leave much room for hope, but goddamnit she isn't exchanging I do's right now with another man either, that's half a victory for me. Who cares that she told me to move on, she's done that before. If I recall correctly last time that happened I ended up with quite a few fingernails scratches down my back and woke up with a frozen bare butt because a certain someone had stolen all the covers. Moving on isn't really my thing.
Or hers.

My phone buzzes in the passenger seat as Maddie's smiley face appears on the display. I'm tempted to answer it, but I'm not sure I have the answers to the questions she surely will be asking yet. She's probably seen the video a couple hundred times already and wants to know what's going on. Problem is I don't know what's going on really, so I press ignore and run yet another red light.
One mile, just one mile more.

"Did you break up with Luke because you're still in love with Deacon?"

My sister's words hang in the air, heavy and unwelcome. I can feel her gaze on me and look anywhere but at her. I know Tandy will read the answer in my eyes if I dared to look up, just as much as I know this lingering silence is probably an even more conclusive answer. Still I dodge the prying eyes and the question all the same.
Of course I'm still in love with Deacon.

If there ever was a time when I wasn't in love with him, I can't remember it. Yes, part of why I broke up with Luke is because my heart skips a beat every single time Deacon walks into a room and a shiver runs down my spine whenever our bodies are in close proximity. But this is not just about Deacon. It's about Luke not knowing I'm allergic to eggplants or how I take my coffee or that I still own a VHS player because I refuse to watch Steel Magnolias on anything but the autographed tape Dolly signed for me many moons ago. And this is about me too. This is about the woman I want to be, the mother I want to be, the wife I want to be. None of these women want to be Mrs. Luke Wheeler and that is the main problem here.
The fact that all these women used to be Deacon's once is just a minor detail, I keep telling myself over and over.

I will always be Deacon's girl, Luke was right. But that's my cross to bear, it isn't his any more than it was Teddy's. Part of me will always live in fear that things will go wrong and I'll be left picking up the pieces of yet another broken heart. Because that's what being Deacon's girl means: heartache. All I've known Deacon as, for the majority of our relationship, is a drunk. Truth be told he has only managed to stay sober when we were not together. It's not that far-fetched to start feeling responsible for his sobriety when all you seem to do is pushing him back into that cycle.
After all he did throw away thirteen years of sobriety because of me.

Sometimes all I can remember of the years we spent together is the smell of vomit drenched sheets, the sound of empty bottles scattering in a hundred pieces on the floor, the grayness of ER waiting rooms' walls, the burn of his sweaty feverish forehead against the back of my hand. I thought I could live without him at first, that didn't last for long. He was back in my band before Maddie learned how to walk. I made peace with the fact that he was just part of me, literally part of me for all of nine months, nine days and thirteen long hours. At the end of the day we were friends, we always have been, I thought being Deacon's friend would be enough, that just having him close to me would be enough.
My Goodness, was I wrong.

My body ached at times so strong was the urge to just reach out and touch him, too strong the desire to just be with him again. I couldn't tell which nights were worse: the ones spent wide awake praying to God to give me the strength to stay away from his bunk ten feet away from me on the bus; or the nights spent dreaming of wearing his ring, wrapped in his arms, in the safety of our cabin. It was like slow dancing in a burning room most of the time, I wanted to escape, to run away from it.
But the music still played on.

Deacon and I have been everything to each other, except man and wife. He's made me a woman, he's made me an artist and he's made me a mother. Deacon was all my firsts, my first boyfriend, my first love, my first number one single, my first platinum album, my first arena tour, he was there for it all.
He was part of it all.

I look up at Tandy and nod slightly.

I am still in love with Deacon, is my unspoken confession.

The admission is overwhelming. Deep down I've always known this was the truth, but admitting it to someone else makes it somehow a reality. Tears spring to my eyes and I let them fall. My body is shaken by a sob as my sister engulfs me in her long lean arms, resting her head on top of mine just like our mama used to do, murmuring that it's going to be okay, that, "everything is going to be alright."

I am not sure I quite believe that. It's not okay. None of this is okay. I had no right to hurt Luke like that, I didn't want to let the girls down and cause all this pain. I waited till the very last second to call this crazy wedding off in the hope things would change and feelings disappear. I've been waiting for that to happen for twenty-six years now. Truth is, I don't know how much more hurt Deacon and I can inflict on each other, for some reason we're always willing to push the limit. This love...God it can be heaven or it can be hell and I'm not sure I'm ready to roll the dice again quite yet.

I take a big breath and wipe away the tears from my face. I tell Tandy, "I need some time to think."
Time to process all that has happened in the last twelve hours, a little time to find myself again. I was thrown off balance there and I just have to find it back before I can take the next step. Tandy looks on as I get up and gingerly walk to the kitchen aisle. I can feel her solemn stare on me as I slip on a jacket and grab my keys. Without much of a word or a glance, I walk out the door. We both know that my car will eventually stop in front of Deacon's house, because as much as I need time to myself, I also need him to know that I am no longer protecting myself from choosing him.
I choose you, Deacon.
The music still plays on.

TO BE CONTINUED...