Sound check has been over four hours ago, and he'd been late. Go figure. Rayna really hadn't been surprised there. There was always a 50/50 shot of Deacon actually showing up at all. Music, her, and the booze, that was what he claimed was his life. Moments like this made her question the order. Certainly she should come before some nasty old drink.
Anger bubbled in her chest from deep within her, but Rayna wasn't disappointed. This had happened far too many times for that. It wasn't worth the energy to be disappointed anymore. Deacon was who he was, and part of him was a drunk. And still, in spite of herself, the redhead loved him more than she probably should. There was nothing she could do about it though, and that was just how it was going to be.
Knocking on his hotel door, Rayna waited for a slurred 'come in' or 'who is it', the usual. Arms crossed, fingernails tapping her arm impatiently, she sighed. "Deacon," she called, voice heavy and with obvious annoyance, "answer the door, it's me." Still nothing. Great, he was reeled out on the bed. Knocking at the door one more time, her free hand clasped around the brass doorknob. "Deacon, you don't answer me, I'm comin' in there in 3…2…," Allowing extra time to pass between the next part, not really wanting to go in, not wanting to see what a mess he'd made of himself today, Rayna sighed again when he didn't answer, a defeated sigh, "1, I'm comin' in. Just… put on some pants or somethin' if ya ain't decent."
When she opened the door, Rayna's eyes immediately fell on the bed, and the figure on it. Her heart stopped, and all at once the world around her both stopped and sped up. Around her, everything felt like it was spinning. She couldn't breathe, and Rayna was certain that if she tried to move she would collapse right there. No! This couldn't be happening! No!
Despite the wiggly feeling of her legs, Rayna rushed to the bedside, scared to death. The 29 year old singer shouldn't have been so surprised, she'd known what the man she had loved for over a decade was. "Deacon…" She said quietly, approaching the bed, approaching him. The closer she got, the worse it got.
"Deacon!" She screamed finally, it seemed like forever since she had opened that door, but it had only been a matter of seconds. Rayna found herself sitting over him instantly, eyes scanning his ashen face.
Taking his wrist in her hand, desperately searching for a pulse, Rayna tried to ignore the blue coloring on his fingertips. No pulse. Maybe she was missing something? She was a singer, not a nurse! Yes, that was it, she had to be. Pressing her ear to his chest, registering how cold his body really was, tears started to pour down her face as that familiar and steady rhythm of his heartbeat didn't meet her back.
"Deacon…" she groaned, but anger was more present in her tone than anything else. "Don't you do this to me!" She screamed, mad as she may be, she was more scared now. Scared of losing her best friend, her love, her rock, scared of life without him, scared of what it would do for her image, of what Beverly would think, scared to be without him, she was scared of everything!
"Don't you do this to me, Deacon, you hear me? Don't you dare do this to me!" Rayna warned, voice trembling as she pointed at him, fumbling hurriedly with the buttons of a hotel phone.
Even as she frantically explained to the 911 operator what she was seeing, Rayna tried to block out how serious this situation really was. Deacon couldn't die! On some level, a part of her knew that he already was, but she couldn't admit that.
Upon hanging up the phone, she was shaking, and went back to the body. "Deacon, please…" She plead, vainly starting to do something that resembled chest compressions. Oh, she should have taken that cpr class in high school! "We're gonna get through this, okay?" She panted, tears flowing down her cheeks despite herself. "You're gonna be okay, you're gonna get better… We're gonna…" She silenced herself, fervently pressing her lips to his, trying a layman's attempt at rescue breaths. Maybe her efforts would have worked if she'd been there sooner, but her guitarist was long past the point of rescue. "Deacon, come on!" She shook him wildly. "This isn't funny! I need you!"
After minutes, a crew of EMTs rushed to the hotel room, and Rayna hurried to open the door.
Questions seemed to be being shot at her from at least 5 people. She answered to the best of her ability, just thankful that the team was professional and focused on Deacon rather than being starstruck. "I came in about fifteen minutes ago… My name's Rayna… Rayna Jaymes…" She glided over her last name quickly, a minor detail was all it was, something they'd asked for. "Yes… Patient's name, Johnathon Claybourne… He goes by Deacon, his middle name. My relationship to him? I'm his girlfriend and he works with me. I wasn't here last night because I was at work… No, he doesn't have allergies to any food."
After so many questions, Rayna was about to lose it. At least there were people working on him while these people grilled her. Snapping, Rayna had had all she could handle. "Look, there is a man over there an-a-a-and h-h-he's d-dying!" She screamed through choked stammers. "He's my boyfriend, I know him, he's a drunk! An alcoholic! There isn't anything to figure out, I'm telling you what happened! I don't know because I was with him last night, I wasn't, I know because I know him!" She took a short, shaky, breath, a gasp of air. "Insurance? Oh don't worry about it, I'll pay. Listen. How?" Her eyebrows quirked, and, in her frustration, snapped. "I'm a country music star, you really think I don't have the money? I'll take care of it, anything y'all want, I'll give to you. Now just let me over there!"
Trying to push her way past the emergency crew that had been questioning her, Rayna started to flail as they grabbed her to hold her back.
"Miss, you really don't want to be there, they're gonna take care of him." A tall man with darker skin tried to soothe her. "I know you're scared, but it's going to be alright."
Rayna wanted to believe the man, but it was scary right now. She tried a couple breathing techniques, knowing he was right. She wasn't going to be any use to the EMTs, or Deacon, if she was in the way.
Rayna's attempt at calming herself down was short lived. Just when it seemed she was gaining composure over herself again, she saw the gurney hoisted up, his body on it, and an EMT pulling the snow white sheet over his face. Her heart, which had already been hanging on by a thread since she'd first walked in here this morning, dropped, shattering into millions of pieces. "No!" She screamed, bloodcurdling and utmost sorrow clear, elbowing the men holding her back as hard as she could. "You're medical! Fix him!"
Her eyes were bloodshot, desperately pleading with the EMTs for any sliver of hope they might provide. She was frantic, and put a firm hand on the stretcher, hand grabbing his. Eyes piercing through the green eyes of a chubby, shorter woman, she must have been a sight. "Please? What's wrong-you're…. he's in bad shape, I know. But… you're what? Airlifting him? Keeping him warm? Do whatever it takes, don't worry about getting consent, I'm his voice-I'll pay any amount, it doesn't matter, just sa-"
"Miss Jaymes," the short brunette interjected, eyes sad and empathetic, laying a soft hand atop Rayna's. "I'm sorry."
Tears welling up more strongly in Rayna's eyes, she just stared ahead of her blankly. "What… What do you mean?" She didn't want to hear to it, but knew she was about to.
The girl's partner, a taller man, about 40, with light blonde hair, stepped to her side. "We did everything we could." He explained in a hushed, though professional, voice. "But alcohol is a drug, and it can be abused. You say Mr. Claybourne had a history… We're terribly sorry, but he's been gone awhile." Glancing at the clock on the nightstand table, the man frowned, "I'd say at least five hours or so."
The words were finally starting to sink in, and Rayna felt her legs go from under her, quickly making her way to the bed. Her sobs racked her entire body, arms curled around herself.
"We'll get this out of here." The small brunette offered, but that churned Rayna's stomach. 'This'? 'This' only 24 hours ago had been a man, a good man, the one Rayna loved.
"Don't!" She commanded in the 'diva' voice, the one she used on her crew and people backstage during a particularly busy night. Realizing her tone, she swallowed over a lump in her throat. "I'd like to be alone with… Deacon." It was already hard to say his name.
The whole team nodded, they were used to these wishes. Stepping out one by one, the medical team slowly disappeared, until it was just Rayna and his body.
Taking another large gulp, Rayna pulled the sheet down. At first, she couldn't even look at him, just stare straight ahead of her, her hand barely touching his. "Well, you did it." Her voice was coarse. "I told you over and over!" A little bit of anger was present now, she still asked some of it, until it exploded. "In and out of rehab! What was it? Three times? Four? Deacon, I told you this was gonna happen!" Anger faded back to more sorrow, "and you knew it! You knew it would too!"
She was silent a moment, and when she spoke, Rayna hardly recognized her own voice, quiet and low. "I thought you loved me." That wasn't fair to him, she knew that. Deacon was a lot of things, and alcohol had always been his biggest vice, but he did love her. Not for a second had Rayna ever thought different on that. "I'm sorry," she corrected herself, feeling guilty already for saying that, "I mean… I love you, Deke… More than anything. I just… Why didn't you love me enough to stop?" She sighed, "this shouldn't be happening."
If she could, Rayna knew she'd spend all day sitting here beside his body, talking to him and crying and wishing and praying. Despite that knowledge, she couldn't change the fact that she'd come in too late. If only she'd stayed with him last night, come back here with him instead of staying late after the show to sign autographs and meet fans.
"You deserved more." She said matter of factly. "You were stronger than you thought… You could have beaten this thing." Running her hand over the ashen face, still handsome and young, the tears began again. "What am I going to do without you, Deacon?" She pressed her lips to his forehead, "I'm gonna miss you more than I can even think." She moved her lips to his, cold beneath hers, his usual warmth and inviting nibble absent. "I love you. I'll love you forever, and I'll see you again… Someday." Her voice was dreamy, almost where she wished death upon herself prematurely, she wouldn't have cared, if it meant being with him again.
"What am I gonna do without you?" She asked again, then thought on loop in her mind. Hand moving to her abdomen, slightly protruded, her eyes got even sadder. Nobody knew yet, only herself. "What are we gonna do without you?"