Deacon's in jail and he's got nothing but time. And that leads to a lot of looking back on everything that led to this point. This is about the period of time between the accident and when Deacon met Rayna at the crash site – kind of a fill-in-the-blanks between what we saw on screen and what might have played out in Deacon's mind. Hope you like it.
Special thanks to KarenES for beta reading portions of this and offering encouragement.
Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it / I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it / After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own / Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone.
Deacon Claybourne couldn't remember exactly how he hurt his hand. Oh, he knew it happened in the aftermath of the car crash, but he didn't remember the exact details of how he had cut it so severely. He wasn't a stranger to memory lapses, although it had been over thirteen years since he'd had one. That one, or at least one of those during that time period, had been why he was now lying here in a jail cell, with the searing pain in his left hand, the cuts and bruises everywhere else, and the hole in his heart. He had felt the dread before, hung over, not remembering what he'd done or where he'd been or who he'd been with. This time he remembered those things, just not the specific detail of how he'd hurt his hand exactly.
He remembered that he had been drunk, had been drunk for several days, after Rayna had confirmed that he was Maddie's father, something she had neglected to tell him for all of Maddie's life. He knew the reason he'd never suspected he was Maddie's father was because of a time he couldn't remember. He did remember Rayna chasing him out of The Bluebird, pushing him out of the driver's seat, arguing with him, until she was so distracted that she nearly ran into another vehicle and his truck had rolled, over and over, until they were upside down in a ditch. He remembered pulling her out and laying on the side of the road with her. He remembered that his hand hurt like hell, she was unconscious, and he was terrified. He remembered that in that moment, when he was scared she would die in his arms on the side of the road, he had understood that this was why she had not told him about Maddie. And he remembered that at that same moment, he forgave her and prayed to God to save her.
When the police got there, he told them it was his truck. Nobody specifically asked him if he was driving, but he let them think he was. He had made the decision to take responsibility for this. If Rayna was going to die, he may as well die too, so it would be his fault. In the few minutes it took for the police to get there, he had looked at Rayna, laying still across his left arm. He had reached for her with his right hand, gently stroking her quiet face. He had cried and told her how much he loved her, how he had always loved her, would always love her, that he was sorry, for this and for so much else. She was a part of him, as much as the air he breathed every day. She was in his heart, his soul, they were connected so deeply, he couldn't lose her. He complied with the Breathalyzer request, knowing he would blow above the legal limit and that he would be arrested. He let the police handcuff him and put him in the police car, and he watched as the EMTs moved Rayna to a gurney and then to an ambulance. And he leaned back against the seat of the police car, tears streaming down his face, as they sped off to the jail.
Doctors in a jail don't care much about what happens to injured inmates. It wasn't like being in a real hospital with doctors who tried to do their best. He'd been in a jail before after being hurt in a bar fight and that doctor gave him Oxycontin. Deacon guessed that maybe he didn't know he was giving drugs to an alcoholic, but that was when he started doing pills. But this time, all they did was wrap his hand and give him a sling, without even really checking to see what the damage was.
When he found out later that Teddy Conrad was using his influence as mayor with the district attorney's office, it occurred to him that Teddy had told the doctors not to bother with him. His hand hurt like hell, but he rationalized that he deserved it. Because he'd been drunk, because he'd argued with Rayna, it had been his fault that they had crashed. So he could suffer some pain for that.
He leaned back against the concrete wall that first night and closed his eyes against the tears that welled up. In all the years that he and Rayna were together, he had never caused her physical hurt. They had fought and he'd called her names and he'd thrown guitars and dishes and broken furniture, but he had never physically hurt her. And now he had. And he had no idea what was happening with her because no one would tell him. The guards knew he was the one that had nearly killed the Queen of Country Music and they weren't inclined to be charitable.
Scarlett had come by and he told the guard he didn't want to see her. He just wanted to die himself. If Rayna didn't make it, he didn't know what he'd do. He felt empty inside. All his anger at her had vanished. She had been right to keep him from Maddie. Maddie. She was a sweet, beautiful girl. She didn't deserve all this. She didn't deserve him as a father.
He closed his eyes tight and felt a pain in his heart. He remembered the very first time he'd seen Maddie. He had stopped by to see Watty and Rayna was there, with her new baby. He remembered that it had felt awkward, seeing her. He'd known, of course, that she'd gotten married to Teddy Conrad and that they'd had a baby. But actually seeing her, looking happy and relaxed, had been like a fist to his gut. When he'd asked to take a look at her daughter, he remembered now that she had seemed tense, uncertain. He had looked at the baby and told Rayna she was pretty and she seemed relieved at that. He hadn't known that he was looking at his daughter. Had never even suspected.
Rayna had hired him back as her band leader, so when she went out on her first tour after Maddie was born, the little girl went with them. Deacon remembered that she was always quiet, watching everyone intently. She was walking by then and one day, while they were waiting to start rehearsal, Maddie had walked up to him and placed her little hands on his knees, looking up at him hopefully. He had looked over at Rayna and she had nodded encouragingly, so he picked Maddie up and put her on his lap. She had looked up at him and smiled shyly, reaching her tiny hand towards his face. She had stolen his heart that day.
Teddy rarely came to Rayna's concerts, but when he did he always brought Maddie. Deacon remembered the look Teddy would sometimes give him, like he was superior to him. Now he realized that it was probably Teddy feeling smug that he was raising Deacon's daughter as his own, right under his nose.
As Maddie grew up, anytime she was around, she was always fascinated by his guitars. She loved to stroke them gently and she would nearly burst anytime Deacon would let her hold one. She told him once that she was going to learn to play and then write and sing songs, just like her mama. He whispered to her to just be sure not to let her mama try to teach her the guitar, that if she really wanted to learn to play, to let him teach her. She had winked at him and whispered that she would do that.
He had been so impressed with her talent that afternoon Rayna had let her and Daphne do sound check in New York. He had told her later that she was better than half the session musicians he'd played with and he was telling the truth. She was amazing, all the more so because she was so young. For a brief moment, he felt proud of her, even though he'd really had little to do with it. He liked to think that somehow he'd passed his love of the guitar to her, but he thought it was probably more coincidence than genetics.
And then he remembered that afternoon she had showed up unexpectedly on his front porch and said the words that had changed his life forever. I think you might be my father. But he knew he couldn't be a father. He couldn't be anyone's father. He might be Maddie's biological father, but he knew all he would ever be was a disappointment to her. And if Rayna died as a result of the accident, then he would also just be the man who killed her mother.
The cruelest joke that gets played on a drunk is when they get to the point where they have blackouts. Often they don't remember the things they want to and remember the things they don't. Like not remembering the night Maddie was conceived, but remembering every single thing that happened after Maddie's visit.
When Maddie had showed up that afternoon, he had been getting ready for the CMA's that night. He and Rayna were finally going to go public with their relationship. They had been together for several months, with some ups and downs along the way, but she was finally ready, she said, for them to do this. He felt like a teenager, getting ready. Although he had been her bandleader for nearly twenty-five years, it had been a long time since they had been a couple. It felt right. When he had been at her house for dinner with the girls, he had been overwhelmed with the feeling that this was what he had been waiting for for so long. They would be a family. Only he hadn't known that night how close to the truth that was.
I think you might be my father. He hadn't known quite what to say to that. He remembered feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. It took him a couple of minutes to register again the distraught face of the young girl standing in front of him. He finally noticed that a cab was at the curb and he waved it on, almost absentmindedly, while thoughts crashed around in his head. How could he be Maddie's father? Rayna had broken up with him more than a year before Maddie was born. She'd been with Teddy. He had felt a knot build in his stomach as he remembered that in the months even before Rayna had dumped him, through to the day he went to rehab for the fifth time, there were huge blocks of time that were missing. Lord only knew what had happened during those lost periods.
He had let Maddie come in and she sat down on his couch, tears running down her face. He had walked around at first, trying to compose himself. Finally he sat in a chair and looked at her and gently asked her to tell him why she thought he was her father. She had handed him a piece of paper. He had held it at first, without looking at it, rubbing his hand over his face, taking deep breaths. Could Rayna have lied to me? Would she have lied to me? Why would she have lied to me? When he finally looked at the document that Maddie had handed him, he saw that it was a paternity test result. The words were swimming before his eyes and he had to put the paper down on the coffee table.
Maddie haltingly recounted how she had snooped in her mother's closet and found a storage box. She had gone through it and found recording contracts and report cards for her and Daphne and birth certificates and other documents. And then down at the very bottom had been that piece of paper. Maddie told him that it said Teddy wasn't her father, that she knew her mom and Deacon had dated right before her parents got married, and so did that mean he was her father?
He had looked at her then and found himself craving a drink. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way. He struggled to find his voice and then told her that he didn't know, he didn't think so, but he didn't know. He'd have to ask her mother. He tried to be comforting, but he felt like he'd been beaten up himself and he was having a hard time focusing on her distress.
He had managed to gather his composure enough to call her a cab and send her home. Then he paced, trying to figure out what to do. He knew he was supposed to pick up Rayna, but he couldn't. He wasn't ready to face her. He didn't know what he was going to say to her. It can't be true. There's no way this is true.
He finally got in his truck but he couldn't make himself turn the key. His head was pounding, his chest hurt. He was supposed to be on stage with Rayna and Brad Paisley and he wasn't sure he could do it. He finally started the truck and he found himself headed for a bar nearby. He sat outside, rubbing his face, breathing deeply, talking to himself in his head to convince himself not to go in. He was still struggling, but he forced himself to drive away and head for Bridgestone Arena.
When he got there, he parked in the lot for performers. People spoke to him as he walked by but they barely registered. He walked up to the backstage area where Rayna and Brad were waiting. Rayna had asked him why he hadn't picked her up and he brushed her off. Brad had picked at him for being late and he laughed, but it hardly made an impression. He got through the song and managed to avoid Rayna immediately afterwards.
When he did confront her and she confirmed that he was, in fact, Maddie's father, he had felt angry. But more than that, he had felt hurt and humiliated. The woman he had loved for almost twenty-five years, the woman he had trusted and that he believed was his best friend, the woman who had encouraged him through these thirteen years of sobriety, had done the worst thing she could have ever done to him. She had lied to him. Every single moment of the last thirteen years. When he left her in her dressing room, he wasn't sure he could ever face her again. Not only because he was angry but because he was embarrassed. He didn't know what to do with that. And so he had driven back to the bar he had stopped at before the show and this time had not hesitated to go in.
Surprisingly it had taken him fifteen minutes after the bartender put the glass of whiskey in front of him to finally down it. He considered the fact that he'd been sober thirteen years. He had grown accustomed to it, comfortable with it. He had felt a sense of pride in himself that he'd been able to do it finally, when he hadn't been able to do it before. But he had done it for Rayna. And she had betrayed him in the worst way imaginable. He had picked up the glass and battled with himself in his head for a moment, then thought Screw it, and threw it back in one swallow.
It burned at first, but then it felt smooth and warm going down. It had been thirteen years, but it had felt like he'd never stopped. He kept drinking, hoping to erase the memory, but the next morning when the bartender kicked his foot as he lay passed out in a booth, he unfortunately remembered every single painful second of what had happened the night before. So he stopped at a liquor store on the way home and bought more, drinking half a bottle in the parking lot before he finally headed for home.
When he thought back on it now, it was embarrassing to remember. It would have been better if he could have blacked out. But he remembered it all. The exchange with Gunnar at his front door, the fear on Scarlett's face, attacking Teddy and later Coleman. The call from Juliette and then seeing Rayna at The Bluebird. But maybe it was good to remember. It made him realize what he had done and why he had ended up here.
He was mostly alone. He was okay with that. Except that it gave him too much time to think. When he thought about the level of anger he'd had at Rayna, it took him back to his childhood. To where this all started. He didn't like to think about it and most of the time he pretended it had never happened. He'd never even told Rayna about his childhood. He hadn't wanted to blame his problems on anyone else. But he had grown up with a father who was as mean a drunk as there had ever been. Deacon knew that he was a lot like him. He had seen his father wreck the house, scream at anyone that crossed his path. He was vicious with his words and quick to use his hand.
Deacon remembered too many times when he and his sister had cowered in a bedroom while their father beat their mother. He would shake with fear and cry. Beth would hug him close and wipe his tears away, all the while crying herself. As she got older, she would try to protect their mother and often ended up on the wrong side of their father's hand herself. The constant refrain he heard all his life was that he would end up just like his dad. He hadn't wanted to believe that was true, but here he was. He was a drunk. He hurt people he loved.
He thought about one night in particular. His father came home late after a long night out drinking. He came home and began yelling for no particular reason. When his father started hitting his mother, Deacon heard Beth storm out of her room, screaming at him to leave her mother alone. Deacon heard the screaming escalating and then heard his sister call their father a jackass. He jumped up from his bed and opened his bedroom door just in time to see his father backhand Beth across the room. She slammed into the kitchen table and sat there, stunned, for a moment. Deacon started for her but that was when his father walked over to Beth, jerked her up by the arm, and practically carried her to the front door. He threw her out the door, telling her she was no longer welcome in their house, to get the hell gone, that he never wanted to see her around there again.
Deacon was too stunned for a moment to move, but when he finally ran out of the front door after his sister, she was gone. He called for her frantically, but he couldn't find her. He sat outside most of the night, hoping she'd come back, waiting until his father had passed out so he could go back in the house. Beth was just two weeks shy of turning sixteen.
One of the biggest regrets of his life had been that he hadn't been able to protect his sister. That she had been all alone with no one to help her. He didn't see or hear from her again until after he had been in Nashville a while, after he'd found out his father had died. After he'd had his own last run in with their father.
He thought about Beth now. She had ended up in Atlanta, made a living waiting tables. She met her husband, an Army sergeant from Mississippi, and had Scarlett. When his tour of duty was up, they'd moved to Mississippi to be near his family. He stayed in the Army Reserves and was killed early in the Iraq war. She still had a hard life, but leaving home had been the best thing she'd done.
He felt bad that he hadn't seen her much since she'd left home, but she always said she was working, too busy. Or more often, it was Scarlett that told him that. And it was easy to let it be, because he knew their shared memories were so painful.
Deacon's own escape from that life happened when he was seventeen. Unfortunately he did not escape the legacy his father left. He thought about the day he left. He'd walked up to the house and could hear his father yelling at his mom. He couldn't tell exactly what he was saying, but it didn't matter. It was all vile, he knew from experience. As he walked through the door, he heard his mother's quivering protests, and just as he walked in the kitchen, he saw his father viciously backhand his mother and she slammed into the kitchen counter.
Something inside Deacon finally snapped. He ran towards his father and, taking him by surprise, slammed him up against the wall. He had no idea where the strength came from, but he pummeled Jed Claybourne, his mother crying for him to stop. Finally Jed slid to the floor, his face bloodied, his eyes closed. Deacon stood over him, breathing heavily, then felt his mother pull him back.
He stood there, staring at the crumpled heap on the floor. He wasn't sure if he'd killed him or merely hurt him. Then came Jed's low, growling voice. If you don't get the hell out of here, bud, I'm going to fucking kill you. Deacon's eyes widened and he felt rooted in place. Get the hell out of here, you piece of chicken shit, and don't you ever come back.
Deacon turned and walked to his room, picked up his guitar, and walked out. His mother grabbed at his arm but he shook her off, got in his truck, and started driving. He had no plan in mind, but he didn't stop until he got to Nashville.