Just in time, eh? I've had some family stuff going on this week, otherwise this would have been up a few days ago. In any case, below is my entry for the July fic challenge. The prompt was to involve a character other than Deacon or Rayna, and also a message of some kind. This got a little longer than I originally intended, but I hope it's decent none the less.

Also, we have the prompt for August ready, so if any of you are interested in getting the prompt/rules, PM me, KarenES or Shiny Jewel and we'll give you all the details.

Thanks for reading!

The sun was already high in the sky when Deacon walked out to the courtyard. He crossed the lawn and sat at a solitary park bench near an oak tree, blinking as he tried to adjust to his surroundings. After the car crash, he'd checked himself into a rehab center out of town, and pointedly avoided talking to anyone that had been involved. If it was entirely up to him he'd have just sold his house and moved full time into his cabin, just like he'd planned months before, but there were more people involved now and there was too much at stake, so at the request of both Coleman and Scarlett, he found a place that didn't already know his name and checked in.

He winced upon hearing the door to the building open, only to release a breath he didn't realize he had been holding when he saw Scarlett step out. He stood to give her a hug before watching her take a step back and glance at the attendant that stood by the door. Until that point, Deacon hadn't really noticed the other patients sitting at tables with families of their own.

"Sorry," Scarlett muttered as she stood across the bench from him. "Somethin' 'bout security. Wantin' to make sure visitors don't sneak anything in. Speakin' of which, I brought some cupcakes. Had to leave 'em at the desk."

Deacon smiled as he watched her tug her sleeves past her wrists, trying to remain composed. "Those ones you rip in half, with the icing in the middle?"

Scarlett smiled, standing awkwardly until he gestured for her to sit. She waited until he sat opposite of her to speak. "I'll have you know a lot of people happen to like my cupcakes."

"I bet the nurses here will, too," Deacon replied, smiling genuinely for the first time in days. "You didn't have to come here, you know. I know you've gotta be busy, plannin' the new record and all."

Scarlett offered a shrug. "I wanted to. We've all been worried about you."

Deacon nodded slowly, looking past her to the attendant who was pacing a few feet away. He found himself wondering just who she meant when she said "we". When he heard he had a visitor—his only one other than Coleman who'd visited briefly earlier that month—his heart had leapt in his chest, and he felt torn. As much as he had wanted to see Rayna, he was also afraid to, for fear of what either of them would say.

Scarlett watched his face, fully aware of where his mind had gone. "She's doin' alright. She was in the hospital for about a week, and then—"

"You don't have to tell me," Deacon replied, shaking his head. Hashing out his relationship with Rayna with his niece wasn't exactly something he was prepared for. "Listen, Scarlett, there's something I need to—" Deacon continued. He stared down at his hands on the worn tabletop. "I'm not proud of what happened. I hated…I hated that you had to see me like that, alright? When I get out of here, I'm not gonna let it happen again."

"Deacon…" Scarlett trailed off. She watched as a bird flitted from one branch to another above them. Across the yard a woman visiting with another patient laughed. She wasn't quite sure what words she could say that would fill the silence in the way they both needed. "I talked to my mama. She says she's got some vacation time saved up. She's thinkin' about taking some time off."

He nodded his head in agreement. "She deserves it. Besides, she needs to see you play."

"She's also got a brother who could probly stand seein' her, too," Scarlett replied, a smile playing on her lips. She furrowed her brow when she saw the curious expression on his face. "What?"

He continued studying her face for a minute before finally shaking his head. "I'm just trying to figure out when my little pig-tailed niece that used to spill flour all over my kitchen when she made cookies grew up. I know I haven't always been there, what with the tours and all, but it's like I blinked, and now you're this grown up girl who's probably smarter than me."

"You're not stupid, you just—" Scarlett shrugged, staring down into her lap rather than at him. "You don't always make the best decisions, that's all. I guess I don't either."

He frowned, concern clear in his features. "Everything alright?"

She hesitated, like she was about to say something, but instead she just shook her head. "I'm not here to talk about me. What about you? They treatin' you alright here?"

"Yeah, it's been good. They've got meetings every day, not to mention appointments with the doctors. It's been—" Deacon ran a hand through his hair before reaching behind him, massaging the back of his neck as he tried finding the right words. "Well, it's been hard. Confronting everything, facin' what happened. I was sober for a long time, and they're trying to pick apart why and how I could let it go just like that."

"And?" she asked, hopeful. As scary as finding her uncle like he'd been when Gunnar had called, she knew there had to be something big to drive him to do that, but she hadn't been able to find out what. When she got the call about him being in the hospital, she didn't learn until after arriving that he'd been drinking, not to mention how Rayna had been in the car. The possibilities mixed with the worry swimming around inside her, and more than anything she just wanted him to be okay.

Deacon rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand and sighed, tired. "It's getting there," he replied. "Why don't you tell me about what's going on with you? Anything new I should know about?"

Sensing his agitation, Scarlett nodded, trying to think of a safe topic to cover. "Well, I've been workin' with Watty White, recording some things for the new record," she paused, shaking her head as she smiled. "It still sounds so weird to say that."

"Get used to it, Scar. A girl talented as you? Well, you can do pretty much anything you set your heart to in this business," Deacon replied, pride laced through his voice. "That's sure good to hear."

"Thank you," she replied. She glanced at a table a few feet away as the people raised their voices, causing an attendant to come over and remind them to keep their voices down. While they were outside and there weren't too many people around, voices still tended to carry, and she was thankful they'd managed to get a table at a distance from everyone else.

"Hey," Deacon called, placing a hand over hers as he brought her attention back to their conversation. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. How are you? Do you need anything? Maybe I could ask 'em if we could get some—"

"Darlin', I know you. I know when something's off, alright?" he interrupted. "Listen, I'm not made of eggshell or something that's gonna break. I'm doing good in this place, so whatever's goin' on with you? I can guarantee I can handle it."

She stared back at him for a moment as he squeezed her hand in reassurance. In some ways, Deacon had been more of a father to her than her own had been. It hadn't always been that way, but they'd grown closer over the years. That didn't make him being able to read her so well any easier to take, though. "It's just…well, somethin' happened. The night of the accident, I mean." She looked at him, watching for any sign that she shouldn't continue. "Before I found out about what happened, I was sitting outside, enjoying a quiet evening. Gunnar showed up and he…well, he asked me to marry him."

"Say what?" Deacon replied, his eyes widening as he processed what she was telling him. "But from the look on your face right now, I take it that ain't exactly a good thing?"

Scarlett offered a shrug. "We'd been arguing. The road he was headed down wasn't good, you know, and so I told 'im he had to straighten out. I just didn't think that meant he'd propose."

Maybe it was wrong, but Deacon couldn't stop himself from letting out a quiet chuckle after hearing what happened. "I'm not trying to be rude, I promise. It's just that boy reminds me more of myself every day."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

He drew in a slow breath and drew his hand away, picking at a twig that had fallen onto the table. "I asked Rayna to marry me once. I was drinking at the time, rehab wasn't workin', and I came home one day to find her packing up some of her things. What I hadn't broken or tossed through, anyway. She said she was staying over at Tandy's for a while, that she couldn't take it anymore. I begged her to marry me, but she pulled herself away and told me to ask again when I was actually sober," his voice wavered, the memory of himself kneeling on their bedroom floor as she tried prying his hands from her jeans stinging more than he wanted to admit. He broke the twig in half and sighed. "Guess I just never got around to it."

Hearing what happened made Scarlett sad. She may have been too young to remember most of what Rayna and Deacon were like when they were together, but she had a few memories, ones where her mother would bring her to a concert whenever the tour was in town and Deacon got them backstage passes. She remembered the way Deacon had called Rayna over, slipping an arm around her waist as he introduced them. It was evident then how much her uncle had loved her, and it was evident now. The fact he'd proposed in a similar fashion, fearing the woman he loved would leave, admittedly scared her a little bit. "I told Gunnar I needed to think about it. That I loved him, but I just needed some time, you know? But then a little while later I got that phone call to come to the hospital, and we haven't really talked about it since."

"I'm sorry, by the way. For my role in everything. I'm probably gonna be saying that a whole lot more when I get out of here," Deacon said, muttering the last part more for his benefit than anything else. "That accident was my fault. Rayna was driving, but I was the one who shoulda known better." He thought back to that night, the accusations about keeping Maddie from him and keeping them both in the dark that he'd shouted at her. He was hurt and had been lied to, but he understood now that even though he was still angry—and a part of him still was, no matter how hard he tried pretending he wasn't—he should have acted more responsibly. He just hated thinking of the damage he'd heaped on top of everything else, for Rayna and for everyone else, including Maddie. "Alright, so…enough of that, huh? Happy thoughts now. Why don't you tell me more about that record of yours?"

Sensing that he wanted to avoid anything heavy, Scarlett nodded. Pulling her sleeves down further, she cleared her throat and began to speak. When they started talking about music, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. The conversation flowed with much more ease, especially when she'd shyly asked him if he'd mind playing on a song she'd written. He'd beamed with pride and assured her that whenever he came home, he'd be more than happy to help her out. Throughout the rest of their visit, there was no mention of Gunnar, Rayna, or anything relating to the night of the accident. Both of them seemed to prefer it that way.

Finally however, the attendant that had been standing by the door cleared his throat and began speaking, announcing that visitation was over for the day. "Sorry folks," he said. "There's a group session in the front room in fifteen minutes. Say your goodbyes."

Scarlett looked at Deacon sadly, waiting for him to stand before she did the same thing.

"Thanks for coming, Scarlett. It really means a lot that you drove this way."

"Of course" she replied, starting to walk with him towards the door. "Listen, um, you know how I told you I brought cupcakes with me, but that I had to leave them at the desk?"

He eyed her suspiciously, momentarily halting his footsteps. "What about it?"

Scarlett hesitated, unsure of whether or not she should tell him. To simply ignore it and wait for him to find out on his own seemed shady, but telling him and making him wait for it seemed just as bad. "It's just, well, there was somethin' else. I was asked to bring it, but the lady at the desk said they needed to check contents before giving it to you, to make sure it was safe."

"What, is Gunnar makin' baked goods now, too? You've got that boy wrapped around your finger."

"No, it's not Gunnar. Just—" Scarlett glanced towards the door before giving him a hug, careful to break contact before the attendant noticed. "I didn't read it. Just promise to keep an open mind, no matter what's inside."

He felt strangely empty when she pulled away. "You got me scared now, you know that?" he replied, smiling to let her know he was joking, even if inside he didn't feel so easy. He tried going over the list of possible people to send him a note. As his sponsor Coleman had already paid a visit, Scarlett was here now and she'd told him his sister would be paying a visit soon. He'd yet to hear from anyone from the tour, particularly Juliette or Rayna, but he doubted he'd hear from her anytime soon. Shelving it until later, he nudged Scarlett's arm and continued walking towards the door. "It was good seeing you," he told her when they reached it, and with a promise to get better as soon as he could, he waved Scarlett goodbye.

The group session seemed to take longer than usual, but Deacon participated just the same. The first few times, it had taken a lot just to get him to open up. Admitting he'd fallen back on over a decade of sobriety took a lot just admitting it to himself, but facing it in front of a group of strangers while facing the reason why had been worse.

Afterward, he went to his room, trying to occupy himself. He'd managed so far, but there were moments when it got quiet and he'd pace back and forth, desperate to speak to someone who wasn't walking around in scrubs or a patient like himself. He wasn't allowed to have his guitar either, which was bothering him more than he wanted to admit. Deacon was sitting on the bed, jotting down lyrics that he had trapped in his head, when a knock sounded at the door.

"Hey, Claybourne?" the nurse waited for him to answer before opening the door. He walked in, holding an envelope in his hand. "Your niece brought this in. It's the facility's policy to screen anything to ensure there's no contraband, but it's been found safe."

"I wasn't aware y'all had to read our mail," Deacon muttered, his words coming out harsher than he intended.

The nurse shook his head as Deacon stood and he handed him the envelope. "I didn't personally, it's a safety—"

"I know," Deacon replied. He rested his hand against the open door. "I apologize. Thanks for bringing it by."

He waited for the nurse to leave before he shut the door. He sat on the edge of the bed and turned the envelope over in his hands. His name had been scrawled across the front, the pen leaving an imprint, and he felt his breath hitch. The back had been torn open, signaling that they'd indeed checked it for anything dangerous, but they didn't need to. The person who had sent it wouldn't be hurting him with objects, but could fully well do so with their words. Carefully, Deacon lifted the already torn flap and pulled out a folded sheet of notebook paper before beginning to read.

Deacon,

I know right now I may not be someone you'd like to hear from, but when Scarlett told me she was paying you a visit, I wanted to send along a letter to hopefully try and explain a few things.

Deacon set the paper on the blanket for a minute and shook his head. He wasn't sure what to expect when he learned she'd written him, but this wasn't quite it. Several times he'd caught himself staring at the phone the facility let patients make timed calls on, wanting to call Rayna. He stopped himself each time, unsure of what he'd say. Standing, Deacon shuffled over to the window with her letter, and with shaky hands continued to read.

I suppose the first thing to say is how sorry I am. And I really am, babe, whether you believe me or not. There are a lot of things I should have told you, a lot of times I found myself wanting to open up about everything, but I never found the right words. I know that's not a good excuse, believe me, but right now that's all I have. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you, or Maddie for that matter, but now that it's happened I'm at a loss as far as knowing what to do next.

If you don't want to talk to me whenever you get out, know that I'll understand. I'll respect your choice. I should also add that if you'd like to talk to Maddie, to try and find some connection with her, I won't stop you, and I'll do whatever I can to help make that happen. If that's what you want, that is.

I want you to know how proud I am of you for making the choice to check yourself into rehab. I feel guilty for my part in what happened—keeping the truth from you, in wrecking the truck, in everything. But Deacon? Please know I'm wishing you well. I really am.

Always,

Rayna

Deacon wasn't sure how long he stood by the window, reading her words over and over and letting them sink in, but when he looked out the window he could see a hint of sunset peeking through the trees. He folded the paper carefully and slipped it back into the envelope, all the while mulling over what she had said.

Ever since finding out the truth about Maddie, he'd found himself so many times stunned by the thoughts he'd have. She was his daughter, his own flesh and blood, and he'd known her for years only to not be aware of that fact. Countless possibilities of what could have been echoed through his mind, all of the missed opportunities haunting him as he sat back down on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

He felt the weight of the letter in his hand and felt torn between the desire to tear it to pieces and read it all over again, even though he figured he could probably quote most of it by heart.

The sound of people walking by his room could be heard. It was apparently time for dinner, and he knew if he didn't show his face soon someone would inevitably come in and ask questions.

He slipped the letter under his pillow for safe keeping. Things between he and Rayna weren't exactly happy, but as he headed off to the cafeteria he couldn't help the slightest spark of hope for the better begin to blossom inside.

He still felt hurt and confused, but as he thought about starting to toe the waters of a relationship with Maddie—his daughter, he reminded himself, still with a sense of disbelief—he thought there was a chance that could begin to change.