It rained the entire drive to the cabin. One of Rayna's windscreen wipers started squeaking halfway there and the sound needled her so much she steered into a lay-by and pulled the damn thing off. She stood looking at it in her hands while the rain plastered her hair to her back, no idea how to fix it and a sob of frustration rising in her throat. The rest of the drive was made with the volume cranked up on a radio station she didn't know, the only one she could get. The dull crackling only served to add to the noise in her head.

Deacon's first reaction to her unexpected arrival was shock.

'Car trouble,' she said, in response to the question he couldn't quite work out how to ask as he looked her over on the doorstep. 'Mind if I come in Deacon? It's pretty wet out here.'

He snapped out of his astonishment and pulled the door open wider, ushering her inside without touching her, and she dripped water onto the doormat as she stood there shivering.

'Clothes,' he said dumbly, staring at her and flushing a little. 'You're soaked Ray, you need to put something dry on.'

'I didn't bring any clothes,' she replied, grimacing at the feel of her sodden sweater.

If he was surprised that she was there in the first place, he was more surprised that she had come armed with only what she had on, but the fraught look on her face stopped him asking what had made her take sudden flight. She let him lead her into the bedroom they had shared, the room where she'd woken up with his arms around her, feeling like the whole world was a memory, that she was safe, would always be.

She stood awkwardly at the side of the bed while he pulled open drawers.

'Put these on,' he said, handing her a pile of warm dry clothes that smelled like him and the washing powder that had been her favourite when they'd lived together. 'I'll let you change.'

He shuffled out of the room and pulled the door closed, and she knew he was standing on the other side of it, trying to work out why she was there. She was trying to work out the same thing.

She hadn't meant to go to the cabin. She'd needed to drive, to get away from town, but an hour along black roads and she'd realised the direction she'd gravitated in would lead her to Deacon. It always did, somehow. He'd been up at the cabin for a couple of weeks, needing his own breather from the chaos, the stream of gigs, the pressure of life in Nashville where his foot was as good as super-glued to the pedal.

'Well those sweatpants look a whole lot better on you than they do on me,' he said when she emerged, holding out a mug of steaming tea. She took it gratefully, warming her hands and curling herself into a ball on the couch, trying not to think about all the times she'd ended up on top of him on it, her hands gripping the back of the cushions. There wasn't a corner of the cabin they hadn't had sex in, inside and out, and it made her feel odd now to look at him and know she couldn't pull him to her, couldn't forget about everything in the feel of his skin.

'I'm sorry to just show up here Deacon,' she said, noticing how rested he looked.

He sat in the armchair opposite and looked at her, his knees apart, elbows balanced on them. His sweater was soft and snug, the definition of his chest clear through the fine wool, and Rayna suddenly wanted nothing more than to bury her face in it and have him hold her until her mind quietened. She wondered if she'd made a mistake going there, if she'd run from one of her demons right into the arms of another.

He gave her a gentle smile. 'I'm not. You know this place will always be yours as much as it is mine.'

She returned his smile, letting her gaze wander around the room. It smelled rich and smoky, just like it always had; the familiarity of it comforted her - all that had changed, and yet if she was to walk through the door blindfolded, a hundred years later, she would know exactly where she was. It had been a long time since she'd been there, and she was surprised to see that her records were still mounted on the walls. The one her record company had given her when their first album had gone platinum hung over the fireplace, its home undisturbed despite her having married another man and moved all of the photographs of who she was then into a box.

Deacon followed her eyes and gave a bashful little shrug, as if to say, 'You never left, you know.'

She took a sip of her tea, feeling it slide down her throat and warm her whole body, and something she couldn't define slotted into place. 'I've missed this place,' she said with a little sigh.

He didn't need to tell her it had missed her too.

'Are you okay Ray?' he asked, and she didn't lie to him, even though she couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell herself the truth. I wish it could have been different, she wanted to say. I wish it could have been you. 'I don't know,' she whispered instead, her lip trembling.

'Hey,' Deacon soothed. The concern etched across his face struck her in the chest. The care they had for each other had never diminished, not when they weren't speaking, too many things unsaid that they didn't dare say anything at all for fear of it all spilling out. Not when Teddy turned up unannounced to a rehearsal to dig the knife in, making no secret of the fact that he was there to remind Deacon that she was his now, that he'd lost. Not when he was knee-deep in a bottle, spitting his venom right at her. The more they put each other through the deeper their sense of protection - of each other, of what they'd had. Of what they still had.

Rayna was suddenly exhausted, her bones heavy. 'It feels like you've been gone so long,' she said, no energy left to try and keep the longing out of her voice. She'd been doing that for so many years, it should have been automatic, but it always had been stronger than she was, her need for him.

'Two weeks is a long time to be away from you Ray,' he said, loaded as a pistol, apparently not trying to hide it either.

Rayna swallowed hard. It was dangerous, she knew it, being around him when her guard was nowhere to be seen. He was temptation enough in the cold light of day when she was half a country away from him and her husband's shoes were next to hers in her hotel room. But she wasn't even half a room away from him and the rain outside was wild and she was wearing his socks. The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it, she heard in her head, like a sing song, a taunt. Resist it and your soul grows sick with longing. If only her soul wasn't already so.

'My head hurts,' she said weakly, possibly to Deacon, possibly to herself. He stood, moving towards her and prising the mug from her hands. He put it down on the coffee table and she looked up at him. 'What are you doing?'

'Sit up,' he told her, beckoning for her to scoot forwards. She did, and he inserted himself behind her on the couch, opening his legs for her to sit between and pulling her back towards him gently. She stiffened, resisting for a second, until he murmured, 'C'mere Ray,' into her ear, and she let his arms encircle her waist and bring her closer, her back flush against his chest. His hands reached up to her temples, smoothing her hair away from her face, and he began to make slow circles, his fingers pressing deliciously into her skin. It was wonderful, the relief from the pounding that had rattled her skull all the drive there almost instant, and she closed her eyes, letting out a soft hum and resting her head back against his shoulder. The fabric of his sweater was as soft against the skin of her neck as she'd imagined it to be.

'That feel good?' he breathed, and she gave him a tiny nod, feeling like she was floating. It took no time at all for her to feel herself slipping, feel her head getting heavier. His fingers could work magic, could set her on fire and turn her to ice and everything in between, and he managed somehow to replace her headache with a purring that spread from the points he touched all the way through her body.

'Hmm,' she sighed, more than an exhale, less than a word, and he knew what she meant. They had always used the cabin as their escape. Almost four years since the last time they were there together, he could still make her forget there was anything outside its door, could still envelop her in their own little cocoon.

She no longer felt the cold that had seeped in, the warmth from his body chasing it away, and she let her weight sink into him, her head rising and falling gently with his chest, like even their breathing was a single being.

'Teddy wants us to have a baby,' she said, careful with her words.

There was silence for a moment. 'Is that something you want?'

His fingers moved from her temples down to her arms while he let her try to find her answer, their small circles never ceasing, light and meant to comfort, not to ignite. Regardless of his intention, Rayna couldn't help it; she felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach that made her press her fingers into the cushions beneath them, her breathing shallow, too fast. She had to fight it, she knew that - it wasn't her reason for being there, but he felt so familiar against her, so welcome.

Another baby, Teddy had said - a baby - the night before when Maddie had been asleep in the nursery and it was just the two of them, dinner cleared away, the lights turned down, a glass of wine in her hand. When he'd moved closer to her on the couch in the big house that she'd never wanted, she'd flinched, hated herself for it, and jumped to her feet.

'Teddy, we can't have a baby,' she'd said, annoyed at her inability to lower the panic in her voice.

'Why not? Maddie's three now,' he'd countered, getting up and moving towards her, reaching for her hand and holding it gently. 'She'll be starting school soon, you know how much she'd love to have a sibling.'

He was a good husband, a great one - he bought her flowers for no reason, warmed her pyjamas in front of the fire on cold nights, got up when Maddie cried so she could sleep. It was just a shame she was only his on paper, someone else's in every other way, no matter how hard she tried not to be. Her commitment to Deacon had been sealed a long time ago, never to be revoked. Their vow hadn't been spoken in front of family and friends, no priest giving his blessing. It had been etched in every lyric, every note, every look they'd given each other since the day they'd met. No piece of paper could ever compete, whatever was written on it. Her marriage to someone else, his death certificate when the drink finally claimed him.

Teddy hadn't added the rest of his argument but she'd heard it anyway - he wanted his own child, his own biological child. He wanted her to show him she was his, once and for all. She felt sick with guilt but somehow the thought of being pregnant with Teddy's child - and not Deacon's child - felt wrong, felt like she was betraying Deacon, the man who wasn't her husband but always would be. Like she was betraying herself. She'd seen the barely concealed stress on Teddy's face, the worry that she would say no. It was the dread of disappointing him and the fear of obliging him that had sent her to her car the next night with nothing more than her purse and a pair of shoes she couldn't drive in.

'I don't know what I want,' she said honestly. She did want Teddy - she loved him, she couldn't think of ever hurting him. He was good for her, far more so than Deacon was. He was also, though she would never let either of them know it, good for Deacon. She took marriage seriously, had meant it when she'd gone through with it, and the vow was both to Teddy and to herself - that she would resist Deacon, that she wouldn't let herself fall back into the clutches of the love that had destroyed both of them while it, conversely, had stayed mercilessly intact. For better or for worse, she'd said, and Teddy was better for them both. He'd given her what she'd desperately needed, a lifejacket, for her and for her baby, and she was grateful - she wanted to treat him the way he deserved to be treated. She knew he adored Maddie, but it was understandable that he would want a child of his own. He wanted Rayna too, but she wasn't hers to give.

'Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing.' She said it faintly, surprised at herself - she had spent the past four years trying to give the impression that she was keeping things together, in front of Deacon most of all. She knew why she'd come to him, her subconscious telling her that she needed the one person who anchored her to herself, to the person she really was that no one but he knew. Ten points to her subconscious, she thought, it had a better idea than she did of what she needed. Shame it had no willpower.

'You're being someone's wife, that's what you're doing.' He didn't colour his words with his own opinions on whether he thought that was wrong or right, and she looked down at her feet where they tangled with his.

'Am I?' It wasn't really a question, at least not one for him, so he didn't answer. His hands stopped their movements and made their way around her waist instead, just as they had a million times before. She was shocked at just how quickly she felt at home, like she belonged right there, in that little cabin, with him.

'Do you want to be?' He rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath hot on her neck, and something in Rayna snapped. She didn't mean to do it, but she felt her fingers lace through his, and her face turned towards him without her permission. He was millimetres from her, looking right into her eyes, unable to help his gaze from flicking down to her lips, and she knew all rational thought was locked outside in the battering rain. She let go of his hands and twisted in his arms, gripping his shoulders, their bodies too close for either of them to deny the other's intentions. How many times she'd ached for him, how much time she'd spent trying to lock it away, and there he was - hers, just like he'd always been. So much had changed, so they'd thought. Maybe not all that much had after all.

'Ray,' he said, a warning to back out now or forever hold her peace. But she couldn't find the voice in her head that recited every day all the reasons why she had to stay away, over and over, the one that would tell her to get the hell up off the couch and put some distance between her and all the promises she was about to break. Just one night, she bargained with herself, easing closer to him, his breath coming in quick bursts and spilling over her, and God, the smell of him. Her stomach thudded with lust; it was forbidden, and it made her feel as hot as it did guilty. She realised she hadn't felt anything close to it since the last night she'd been to the cabin. That had been the night they'd made a baby. He moved his hands to her hips, waiting; it was her move and they both knew it. She lowered her face, his mouth open and ready for her, and heat shot through her as her lips touched his. And then Teddy's voice screamed through her head. 'I promise to love you, to be faithful to you,' he said, the rose in his lapel scalped of its thorns, her hands safe in his. She could smell the incense in the church where she'd sworn she wouldn't do exactly what she was about to.

She jumped back, scolded. 'I'm sorry,' she said in a rush, horrified at how easy it had been to give into herself, the silver of her wedding ring catching the candlelight as her hands flew to her mouth. 'God Deacon, I'm sorry.'

'It's okay, hey, it's okay,' he said, moving to her at the other end of the couch where she sat trembling, her legs pulled up to her chest. She couldn't look at him, and he knelt next to her, his fingers tilting her chin upwards. 'It's okay,' he repeated, more firmly, and she wasn't sure what she saw when she looked in his eyes, but it wasn't anger. Disappointment maybe, loss for sure. And possibly, just possibly, relief.

#

She woke in the bed that had been theirs, alone and bleary eyed. Her head spun when she sat up and she stretched, a weak sliver of sun finding its way through the closed curtains and warming her skin. She felt like she'd slept for a year, like she'd saved up all her nights to spend them all at once and heal her tired body.

'Hey,' Deacon said when she walked out of the bedroom. She squinted at him, breathing in the smell of fresh coffee and bagels, and smiled.

'Hey.'

'How'd you sleep?'

'Better than I have in months.' Years, really, but she couldn't tell him that. He poured her some coffee and she took it with a murmur of thanks. 'How about you?'

He nodded. 'I've been up a while doin' some thinkin' Ray.' He eased the sugar pot out of her hands and held them, looking down at them. They were so small in his, so delicate. He loved her hands. He loved most of all seeing her hold Maddie's hand - the way the little girl clung to her, how she adored her momma, put all her trust in her, all there in the joining of their hands. Rayna was a wonderful mother. It knocked the wind out of him when he let himself wish it was his child who hid behind her skirt when she felt shy, his child she'd carried for nine months. He had only seen her once when she was pregnant, the whole thing too acutely painful for either of them to be around each other, both of them treading carefully when he'd gotten out of rehab, neither wanting to do anything that might send him back. He wished he'd been there for it all, the shape of her new to him every day. He wished he'd seen her rock subconsciously on her feet, shushing her unborn baby to be still, to sleep, wished he could have been protective of her, rubbed her back when it was aching, sung lullabies to her belly in the night. He wished he'd been there to hold her hand.

Their old bandmates had told him later, after Maddie was born and he could stand to hear Rayna's name again without feeling like he'd been punched, how difficult it had been for her, how troubled she'd been. They'd told him how sick she was, how she would cry whenever anyone mentioned him, how she'd withdrawn into herself and fired every guitarist Bucky had found her to replace him. And then they'd told him how beautiful she was, how much pregnancy had suited her, how she'd taken to it so naturally despite her never believing she would. He knew she was with Teddy, that if she took the step to add to her family it wouldn't include him any more than it had the first time around, but he wanted to see her that way, to make up for all he had missed. And he wanted her to be happy. He hadn't been able to make her happy when his troubles had consumed them both, he'd only made her the opposite - sad, distracted, scared. Having a family was good for her, it calmed her. If he could give her that, even if not of his own flesh and blood, he would. He owed her that much.

'I think Maddie would love a new baby,' he said softly, and her eyes filled with tears when she looked up at him. 'And I think you would too.'

#

She closed the door quietly behind her, careful not to wake Maddie, who she hoped would be fast asleep. The house was dark, still, and it was on light feet that she made her way into the kitchen, pulling a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator.

'Where have you been?'

Teddy's voice startled her, and she spun around to see him sitting in one of the armchairs in the shadows, the light from the refrigerator painting a stripe across his face. He looked tired, strained. Rayna put the carton down and walked towards him.

'I needed to think,' she said, and he was stonily silent for a moment.

'You didn't come back last night.'

'No.'

'Were you with him?'

Rayna bit her lip, looking down at her feet. 'No,' she lied, knowing it would do so much more harm than good.

'You needed to think,' he repeated, and she nodded, moving to stand in front of the chair. 'Why couldn't you think here, with me?'

'I needed to be sure of what I really wanted,' she said, holding out her hand. He took it reluctantly and toyed with it, a little flicker of hope appearing on his face. It was Teddy's vulnerability that endeared him to her most of all; for all the solidity he gave her, gave Maddie, for all the security of the life they'd built, it was when she saw how much he needed her - just as much as she needed him - that she knew she really did love him.

'And are you?' he asked quietly. 'Sure?'

Rayna nodded, and eased herself onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking him in the eye. 'I'm sure Teddy,' she whispered. 'I wanna have a baby with you.' She kissed him, Deacon's face in her mind, for once not because she couldn't help but think of him when she was with Teddy.

When she gave birth to Daphne a little over eleven months later, she thought of him as she stroked her daughter's face. It wasn't how it had been with Maddie, when she'd held her close, terrified that she would break into a million pieces with the need for him, wishing horribly that he was there with them, where he should be. The thought of him was a comfort, a love that spread through her. They'd ended up so far from where she'd thought they'd be and yet, he was there, with her, when it counted most. She sent him a silent thank you and wiped the tear from her cheek as Daphne wriggled in her arms.