A/N: I guess the consensus here is you guys are... intrigued. ;)

Beth is at her desk in the lobby when Rayna comes back from her walk. It's raining buckets outside, so she takes her hood off and removes her shoes. She doesn't want to leave a trail of mud all the way up to her room.

"Oh my God, you went outside in this deluge?" Beth asks.

"It wasn't raining when I left." She didn't know the weather could change so fast. When she sees she's dripping all over the entrance carpet, she decides to wait a few minutes before going upstairs. She's also glad Beth happens to be there because she needs to talk to her. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Of course."

"I went to The Landslide the other night, and Deacon Claybourne was playing. I was wondering if you knew him?"

Beth smiles at that. "Everyone knows Deacon around here."

"Does that mean he's from here?"

"He moved here, what, five or six years ago? He's got a cabin near the lake."

Rayna clears her throat. "Does he, um, live there alone?" She's aware of what it sounds like, but she has to know.

Beth doesn't appear to find the question out of place. "Yes, it's just him."

"He's a musician?"

"Oh, he is! He performs at The Landslide every Thursday. Both locals and tourists love him. If you mean professionally, though, no. He does excursions in the woods with tourists, show them how to survive, that kind of stuff. He's a guitar teacher the rest of the time." She pauses. "You've heard him play, then? What did you think?"

"He's..." No word feels adequate enough, so she settles for, "incredible."

"Right?" Her face lights up. "You know what? You should go see him. You two could talk about music and all that!" She sounds excited at the prospect. "I'll write you directions to his cabin," she suggests. She grabs a piece of paper and a pen, draws a little map, scribbles a few words and hands it to Rayna.

"Are you sure he won't mind I show up at his place like that?"

"Oh, no. Tell him I sent you, it'll be fine."

Rayna thanks Beth before she retreats to her room. If it weren't for the apocalypse outside, she would leave right away. She assumes there's a reason the only bar in town is called The Landslide, though, and so she chooses to be cautious and wait.

—

It stops raining sometime in the afternoon, and it's not a minute too soon. Rayna's patience is wearing thin.

The sun is back out when she leaves the guest house, and she follows Beth's directions until she finds herself standing in front of what she hopes is Deacon Claybourne's cabin. She isn't entirely sure she took all the right turns. There's a truck parked outside on the gravel path, so whoever lives there must be home.

She steps on the porch and knocks. To Rayna's relief, it is Deacon who opens the door.

He looks momentarily stunned, and they're both silent for a few seconds before Rayna remembers one of them has to speak. "Hey," she says. "Beth gave me your address. Well, she drew me a map," she explains, showing him the piece of paper still in her hand.

"Are you...?" Deacon asks.

"I am."

He seems to recover and to catch on the fact he hasn't moved since he opened the door. "Oh, I'm sorry, come on in," he offers, and he steps aside so she can walk into the cabin.

She lets her gaze travel around the room, and she smiles. It's small, but cozy, and obviously the home of someone who loves music. "This is exactly the kind of place I pictured you living in."

"You tried to picture where I live?"

"No, I mean... I saw you play at The Landslide the other night... and the stories in your songs... never mind." She clears her throat, puts her hands in her pockets because she has no idea what to do with them. She tries to look anywhere but at him.

When she does, however, he's smiling. "I see. Can I ask what brought you here?"

The real reason is she wants to learn everything about him, but she can't tell him that. She realizes she hasn't exactly thought this whole thing through. She panics. "I need... guitar lessons," she blurts out, and she has no idea why she just said that. This is possibly the dumbest thing she could have said.

"Rayna Jaymes needs... guitar lessons?" The way he says her name, she's not sure why, but she finds it incredibly sexy. She wishes he would say it again.

"Beth told me it's what you do."

"Did she also tell you my students usually wear braces?"

"Is that a prerequisite?" she asks, amused.

"I'm not sure I'm qualified to give guitar lessons to Rayna Jaymes." There. He's said it again. She could swear her heart is beating a little faster.

"I've heard you play, you're qualified to give guitar lessons to Rayna Jaymes." They've got to stop saying her full name aloud, it's starting to get weird. "What do you think?"

"I... why not."

"Tomorrow?" she suggests.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, unless you—"

"No, you know what? Tomorrow afternoon should work. Let's say 2pm?"

"Great." She looks at the door and then at him. She doesn't want to leave, but she can't think of an excuse to stay. She really should have planned this whole thing better. "Great," she repeats as she reaches for the door handle.

He follows her outside. "You came all the way here just to ask me?"

"It's not like I have much else to do."

"Are you here on vacation or something?"

"Or something." She doesn't want to elaborate. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"You will."

That is, if she can find her way back. She's not a hundred percent confident. Maybe she should lay a trail of white pebbles.

—

On the next day, she does find her way back. She has left thirty minutes early, just in case. She makes a point to be on time everywhere she goes.

Deacon is waiting on the porch, and he appears happy to see her. "Hey! I'm sorry, I should have offered to drive over and pick you up, but you caught me off guard yesterday."

"It's okay, I like to walk these days."

"You didn't bring your guitar?"

"I... thought you could lend me one." There's also the fact she doesn't have one.

"Of course."

They get inside, then, and set up in his living room. She almost knocks everything off the coffee table when he hands her the guitar. She is a tad nervous. She was also never good with guitars.

Half an hour later, she isn't any better at guitar, but she has learned one important thing; Deacon Claybourne is a very patient man. He's genuinely trying with her.

"Okay, give it to me straight. How am I doing?" she asks.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"You're the worst student I've ever had, and that includes the eight-year-old who once threw up on my shoes in the middle of his lesson."

"See, when people say they want honesty, they never want this much honesty." She doesn't look offended, though, just amused.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I like that you won't lie to me." There are enough liars in her life as it is.

Truth to be told, she hasn't been very focused on the guitar. She's spent more time studying the teacher. That, and there's a piano in the corner of the living room she's been glancing at since she arrived. She'd already noticed it yesterday. She's been working on a new song these last few days, and she is itching to try it on piano.

She puts the guitar on the couch and points a finger at the piano. "Can I?" she asks.

"Of course."

She gets up to go sit on the stool and opens the keyboard lid. She's been singing in her room at the guest house, but she always has to be careful not to be too loud. Here she doesn't have to hold back. She realizes how much she has missed it, singing her heart out.

When she's finished and she turns around on the stool, Deacon is staring, speechless, and she thinks it's probably what she looked like the other night at the bar when she was watching him.

He pulls himself together. "Your voice, it's even better than I remember at your show."

"You've been to one of my shows?"

"A few."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The last one, I took my niece Scarlett with me. She's seven. It was her first arena show and, I quote, the best day of her life."

This causes Rayna to smile. "Your niece has great taste in music. I'm sure she can play guitar better than I do, too," she deadpans.

He chuckles at that. "Maybe I'm wrong, but I bet the problem is you never had to. I mean, your guitar player, she's fantastic."

"Adria? Yeah, she is. She's been with me from the start." She is reminded of her conversation with Watty, and she's dying to ask Deacon about the Bluebird, why he never came, if he even remembers, but she reckons it's too soon. She looks at him. "We should write together, you and me, sometime."

He smiles. "I would love to. I'll be in the woods with a group for the next four days, though."

"Oh, okay." She wonders for a second if it's true or just an excuse. Then she remembers he's not the kind to lie.

"But, wait." He gets up and heads to the kitchen, grabs a key in one of the drawers and comes back. She tries to pretend she doesn't shiver when he takes her hand and puts the key in her palm.

"What is it?"

"A key to the cabin," he explains like it's obvious.

"You're giving me a key to your place? Haven't we skipped like a dozen steps?" she jokes.

"It's in case you want to come here and play on the piano while I'm away."

"Oh. That's... incredibly nice of you."

"Nah. Just... don't touch the guitars."

They both laugh, and at that moment she realizes she'd almost forgotten what happy feels like.

—

TBC