A/N: For our amusement during the upcoming break, I am happy to announce the Nashville 2013 Secret Santa fanfic challenge! Please PM me for details if you want to write a challenge fic AND/OR you want to submit a challenge prompt and have a Secret Santa write it for you and credit you with the idea. The prompts must revolve around some kind of gift, which can be very loosely defined (thanks to Moonlight Gardenias for the theme) and they may involve any of the Nashville characters. Finally - thanks for your patience on this chapter and thanks once more to Shiny Jewel for stellar beta-reading.

Chapter 10

Promises, Promises

Rayna walked through the doorway into her obstetrician's waiting room, surveying the women in various stages of pregnancy sitting inside. Some looked apprehensive, others confident and serene. A few were all smiles, their husbands or children sitting with them.

Here for her six-month checkup, Rayna no longer felt like a stranger in this office. In fact, she was starting to feel like a regular. But today, something was different: For the first time, Deacon was by her side.

Dr. Madsen's staff greeted her with smiles as she checked in at the front desk. She took a seat next to Deacon on the couch across the room, noting that several of the nurses looked their way and then exchanged excited glances. No doubt they'd been hoping to meet Rayna's "baby daddy" - a term she loathed, but which seemed entirely appropriate lately.

Since they'd finished the tour, Deacon had been taking his role as an expectant father very seriously. When he had asked a week earlier if he could accompany Rayna to a doctor's visit, she'd warned him that her checkups were not exactly exciting. "Seriously, babe, all she does is weigh me, take my blood pressure, make me pee into a cup and measure my stomach."

"That's okay, Ray, I'm not expectin' fireworks," he had replied. "I just kinda want to get in on this whole thing, figure out what I'm supposed to be doin', meet your doctor. I mean, we haven't talked about it, but I want to be there with you. Y'know - when it happens." He had looked at her a moment and then added hastily, "If you'll have me."

"Oh," Rayna had said, taken aback. "Yeah. Of course." She had assumed that Deacon would be in the delivery room when their child was born, but she realized that they hadn't actually discussed it. And it made sense that he would not presume. Their future was still very much up in the air.

They had been spending a lot more time together, however. She had hired him to play guitar on a couple of the final tracks she was recording for her new album, and he had been grateful for the work. He was still fighting an uphill battle to repair his reputation in Nashville's tight-knit music community. They were getting together in their free time, too - eating dinner out, shopping for baby gear and having coffee after his AA meetings. On Saturdays, he'd gotten into the habit of picking up sandwiches while she was at Al-Anon and taking her to the park for lunch and a walk along the river afterward.

For the first time in a long time, things felt right between them. But they were still living apart. And Rayna was insisting on keeping it all platonic. "We're friends. At least for the time being," she had replied, each time Deacon had asked about fully reestablishing their relationship. They loved each other and they were having a child together, he argued. What else did they need?

It wasn't easy for Rayna to resist that logic, or the look in his eyes every time they said good night outside her apartment building. It took all the willpower she could muster to turn away from him when he looked at her like that. When she did, it was usually with Jill's words echoing in her head: "Did it never occur to you – not even once - that you're part of his problem?"

Much as she wanted Deacon – in every sense of the word – Rayna recognized that he had only been out of rehab for four months. She knew he had been discouraged from making big decisions of any kind. He was trying hard to stay sober and seemed to be working at it more seriously than ever. But he had gotten this far many times before, only to fall off the wagon quickly once they got back together.

What truly scared her were Deacon's continuing struggles with dark moods. No one could do depression and self-loathing like he could, and it actually served him well creatively: Many of his best songs came out of that darkness. But whenever he got really down on himself, he tended to relapse. And Rayna could see that he left every meeting with Gus in a state of despair. She suspected that Gus was helping him confront the looming shadows of his past. But despite her gentle inquiries, Deacon refused to share any details with her.

She had talked to Jill about how conflicted she felt and the older woman agreed that Rayna should be cautious. The depression, hard as it was to witness, was probably a good thing, Jill had explained. It was a sign that Deacon was finally taking seriously all the pain he had caused her and others when he was drinking. It seemed that he was at a critical juncture in his recovery - possibly on the verge of a breakthrough. But if Rayna stepped back into his life fully, he could use her as an excuse to stop doing the hard work he still needed to accomplish.

"I told you that you'd know when he was ready; when it was time," Jill had said. "If you're not sure, you should wait."

"Yeah, I know," Rayna had sighed. "You're right. But, I mean, it's so hard not to …" she paused, searching for words. "I just love him so much. I guess waiting might be easy for a nun, but it sure isn't easy for me – or for him."

Jill harrumphed and raised her eyebrows, looking pointedly at Rayna: "Like I told you a million times, I haven't been a nun for 20 years. And there sure as hell wasn't anything easy about it!"

The pissed-off look on Jill's face made Rayna laugh. She never would have believed it, but she was growing fond of this strange, acerbic woman. She finally understood what it was that Deacon saw in her.

She glanced surreptitiously over at him now as he sat next to her in the waiting room, his nose buried in a book. Keeping him at arm's length had been particularly difficult lately, given how adorably proud he'd become about being a daddy. When she had first told him she was pregnant, his reaction was nothing short of terror. When band members or fans had congratulated him during their tour, Deacon could always be counted on to made a disparaging remark about how he hoped the baby would take after Rayna. Or about how sorry he felt for any kid stuck with him as its father.

But since that night on tour when he had felt the baby kick, Deacon's attitude had transformed. The prospect of being a daddy seemed to be the only thing consistently able to lift his mood. He brought up the baby in conversation every chance he got - even mentioning it to strangers. He would smile from ear-to-ear, talking due dates and birth weights with waitresses and shop clerks as Rayna looked on, highly amused. He'd started asking detailed questions about fetal development, and when Rayna couldn't answer them all, he had steered her into a bookstore and picked half a dozen books off the "Pregnancy and Child Development" shelves. One of them was open on his lap right now.

"What are you reading, babe?"

"Uhhhh, 'What You Need to Know About Being Pregnant'," he said, not looking up from the page. "I think."

Rayna hauled up the book and peered at its cover. "It's 'What To Expect When You're Expecting,' Deacon."

"Yeah. Isn't that what I said?"

"Sort of," Rayna said. She noticed the envious glances she was getting from around the waiting room. Not only was Deacon looking particularly handsome these days, it was obvious that he was truly interested in her pregnancy. Rayna could see that many of the other guys in the waiting room wanted nothing more than to bolt. But not her guy.

Rayna smiled over at Deacon.

He smiled back. "You're in an awful good mood today. How come?"

"I don't know," she said lightly, taking the book from him and opening it up. "I guess I'm just glad you're here with me."

"Me too, darlin'," he said, scooting closer to her. "So - anything interestin' in that book? I haven't gotten into that one yet."

She glanced down and then chuckled, showing him the chapter heading she'd happened to open to: "Sexual Desire."

He rolled his eyes and looked away. "Well, thank goodness we don't have to worry about that, huh Ray?" he asked sarcastically.

"Mmmm-hmmm. Thank god for small favors," she murmured. She started reading. After a moment, she realized he was peering over her shoulder. "What?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Nothin'. I just kinda wondered what it says. I mean, in case we ever …"

"Oh," she answered, feeling ridiculous when she realized she was blushing. She lowered her voice. "Uh … well, I mean, it's talking about … positions and things like that."

"Really?!" Deacon looked incredulous, then he shook his head sadly. "I swear, Ray, what's wrong with people? They can't figure somethin' like that out for themselves?"

"I don't know, babe. Maybe it's tougher than we think. Or maybe some people just don't have much imagination." She glanced wryly at him, each of them silently acknowledging that they'd never suffer such an appalling lack of creativity. If they ever ...

Deacon sighed deeply, then he leaned over her shoulder again, reaching for the book. "Hey, they got any pictures in there? I mean, like drawin's or anything?"

She turned to him, her eyes wide, and burst out laughing. Then she put her finger in the book and smacked his arm with it.

"Ouch!" he yelped, drawing a flurry of sympathetic looks from the women in the room. He lowered his voice. "Hey, gimme a break, darlin'. I'm livin' like a goddamned monk over here."

Rayna tried unsuccessfully to stop laughing and opened the book again, flipping forward to another heading: "Breast Tenderness?" Oh, no. That definitely would not be any help. She skipped ahead again, finally coming across a title that seemed safe enough: "Prepping for Labor," she read aloud, noticing that Deacon grimaced at the words. She leaned against his shoulder, propping the book in between them so he could read along with her.

When her name was called a few minutes later, Rayna got up and Deacon followed her and Kathy, Dr. Madsen's nurse, down the hall. She put Rayna on the scale and winked at Deacon as Rayna cringed and hid her eyes. Then she took Rayna's blood pressure before handing her a plastic-wrapped cup and directing her to the restroom. By the time Deacon was settled onto a chair in the corner of the exam room, Rayna was back, cup in hand. Kathy helped her lie down on the examination table and pull her shirt up, covering her stomach with a paper drape.

Dr. Madsen knocked lightly and walked in a few minutes later. "Rayna! How are you feeling?" she started, then she turned, realizing someone else was in the room. "And this must be Deacon," she said, recognizing him immediately but looking surprised to see him.

"Yeah, uh, I asked Ray if I could tag along today and meet you," Deacon said, standing up and offering his hand. "I hope that's all right."

Dr. Madsen shook it. "That's wonderful. We love to see daddies in here. Let me have a look at this baby and then I'll answer any questions either one of you might have. Okay?"

As Rayna had predicted, the doctor performed a short exam, palpating Rayna's belly and stretching a paper tape measure across it in both directions. After she listened to the baby's heartbeat and jotted a number down on Rayna's chart, she called Deacon over and pulled a new stethoscope out of a drawer. She unwrapped it and handed it to him, positioning it on Rayna's tummy so he could hear for himself. He grinned like a madman when he picked up the rapid pattering and took Rayna's hand, his eyes twinkling down at her.

"Everything looks great," the doctor said, helping Rayna sit up. "It's not quite time yet, but sometime before the holidays you two should book your birthing class and schedule a hospital tour. You don't want to wait too long, just in case this baby decides to show up early."

Dr. Madsen dug several information sheets out of a file folder next to the sink and handed them to Deacon. He took a look, flinching slightly. "Birthing class? That's - what do they call it? Lamaze?" he asked.

"Well, there are different classes, but Lamaze is the most popular. That sheet lists your options and the phone number where you can call to sign up. Our hospital education department puts on a pretty comprehensive class. It runs four weeks, typically one evening a week, and includes breathing techniques and general birthing information, including the various forms of pain relief available. Though not every woman decides to go that route."

"Oh, Rayna will," Deacon stated confidently. "She'll take whatever pain meds you got, Doc."

Rayna looked over at him, astonished. "What're you talking about, Deacon? Shouldn't we find out more about that before we decide anything?"

"Why would you want to be in pain if you don't have to be, darlin'? I mean, as long as it's safe." He looked at the doctor for backup as he put his arm around Rayna and helped her off the table. She saw that he was wearing that familiar stubborn of his. "I sure as hell am not gonna stand around for hours watchin' you suffer, Ray. I know that much."

Dr. Madsen looked at Rayna and smiled. She'd heard all about Deacon's fiercely protective streak, but this was the first time she'd seen it in action. "Well, you've got plenty of time to decide," she said diplomatically. "And I'll tell you – when it happens, you can always change your mind. Lots of women do. I'll keep you informed and I'll definitely make sure it's safe. But as a doctor – and as a woman who's given birth twice – I'd encourage you to consider pain relief, Rayna. Do your research, of course. But first babies tend to take their time coming into this world. And labor is not only painful for most women, it's exhausting."

Deacon pulled his dark coat closer around him, turning up the collar and shoving his hands deeper into the pockets. He glanced up at the sky, which was gray and threatening. Already, occasional raindrops spattered down onto the dirt path in front of him. Dead leaves littered the grass off the path, forming a deep carpet up to the nearby treeline. The stands of woods on both sides of the river had lost their leaves and their stark brown bark made them look naked.

He and Rayna were walking slowly along the river, more than a week after her doctor's appointment. The wind picked up and Deacon glanced at Rayna, hoping she was ready to turn back to the road. But as usual, she was determined to get her walk in, no matter the weather.

They trudged along in silence for a few more moments. "What's new with you, babe?" she asked, looking over at him.

He took a deep breath. "My mama called last night. She wants me to come home for Thanksgiving."

Rayna contemplated this information. "Hmmm," she replied eventually, her voice carefully neutral. "If I remember right, your last visit didn't end so well. Do you think this is a good time to go there?"

Deacon hesitated. He didn't remember much about his last visit home for his mother's birthday, except that they had argued about his drinking and he'd stormed off to the bar where his father had been a regular. That visit had prompted rehab stint number three. Or was it four? He couldn't remember that, either. Sometimes he wished he never had to go home, and other times he longed to see the familiar faces and the old place again. After the memories that had resurfaced recently, part of him wanted to see his mother just so he could finally ask her, "Why? Why didn't you leave him? Why didn't you make sure we were safe?"

"I dunno, Ray," he concluded, simply. "I'm not sure what I'm gonna do."

Navigating the dark waters of his past had taken all of Deacon's strength these past few months. He had had no idea what he was getting into when he had opened up to Gus. Nightmares that used to evaporate before he woke up - and pain that he used to dull with pills and alcohol - now intruded into his daily reality. He no longer had the luxury to push it all away; he was facing it without any of his familiar chemical coping mechanisms. His demons were on full display for the first time in years - and sometimes it felt like they were winning.

"Sucks, don't it?" Gus had asked early that morning over coffee, before they were due at the church to set up for AA.

"Yeah, it does," Deacon had said, wiping away tears. He'd become so used to crying in front of Gus that it didn't even bother him anymore.

Now, Deacon stole a glance at Rayna, who was struggling to keep the buttons on her coat from coming loose over her stomach. He smiled to himself as he realized that the baby was crowding her middle so much, she was already developing something of a waddle in her walk. He thought she looked very cute pregnant. Of course, he didn't dare tell her that: She would never agree with that sentiment in a million years.

Instead, he leaned over and nudged her shoulder gently with his own. He was rewarded when she turned and smiled at him, her blue eyes sparkling. No matter how bad things were, everything seemed better when she was with him.

He knew that his quiet despair these past months had scared her. And she had made it clear that she wasn't ready to give him everything that he wanted - at least not yet. But still, she was here, walking by his side. It was wonderful just to look at her, her hair tucked under a black felt hat and a red scarf wound around her neck, her coat flapping open again as she clutched at it. He reached over and took her gloved hand in his own, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"You know what I think, Deacon? I think you really want to go home. But maybe you're afraid to go back there."

"Hmmm," he said, thinking about this. Since he'd left Mississippi more than a decade earlier, he'd only visited a handful of times: Once when his niece was born; once for his mother's birthday; a couple of times with Rayna on tour. "I guess I do kind of want to go back."

"But ….?"

"I don't want to go by myself. I want you to come with me, Ray."

She looked over at him, conflict playing across her features.

"C'mon, baby. You know you don't want to sit over at Lamar's, eatin' that bone-dry turkey his maid cooks every year," he said, cajoling her. He had suffered through a Wyatt Thanksgiving dinner himself once and he knew exactly how deadly it would be. He looked into her eyes. He could see that Rayna was halfway to Natchez already. He squeezed her hand. "What do you think, darlin'?"

"I think …" she started, slowly. "I think … there's not a chance in hell that you and I can go away for a weekend and not have sex."

He laughed at this unexpected but completely obvious truth. "Aw, c'mon, Ray. We can do anything we want to, if we put our minds to it. And besides, we'll be stayin' at my mama's place. We could have five kids together and she'd still put us in separate rooms if we're not married."

"Uh-huh. And when did separate rooms ever stop us?"

He grinned over at her, his eyes twinkling, recalling the furtive, nocturnal goings-on of their last visit. "Okay," he conceded. "But this time you're-" He stopped, then gestured awkwardly in the direction of Rayna's expansive midsection.

Now it was her turn to laugh. "Oh, really? What - you think that just because we look like blimps, pregnant ladies don't get horny? Is that it?"

"Ummm…" he stalled. How in the hell had he gotten himself into this conversational mine field? "I dunno, I mean, yeah – I guess. That's what I figured."

"Well, babe, you figured wrong. Way wrong," Rayna said, smiling and shaking her head.

This mine field was suddenly getting very interesting. Deacon pressed on. "What - you mean, you still …"

"Mmmm…" she murmured, keeping her eyes cast down as she walked.

Deacon stopped short, pulling on Rayna's hand to stop her, too. She turned around and looked at him. "What?"

"Rayna. Are you tellin' me you're - you mean you want to …?"

She blushed a little and looked away, dropping his hand. He was riveted. "Yeah," she said, finally meeting his gaze. "Oh, yeah. All the time. I guess you haven't gotten to that chapter yet, huh?"

Shit. He shook his head, promising himself he would pick up the book as soon as he got home.

"I think it's just – I dunno, all the hormones maybe? I'm just ..." she started, then stopped, sighing and shaking her head.

"Goddamn it," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "And I'm missin' out on all of it."

"That's why I don't think it's a good idea for me to go to Natchez with you," she said, starting to walk again. He watched her for a minute, then jogged to catch up with her, taking her arm to stop her again.

"Ray, listen to me. I promise you right now that I won't come near you at my mama's. I won't touch you." He looked at her intently. "Not unless you want me to."

"Well, that's just the problem, babe. I do want you to. But ... I just don't think we're ready." She looked at him seriously. "We can't mess this up, Deacon. Not this time. It's too important."

Deacon looked chastened. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he wasn't taking all of this to heart. "Rayna, seriously, I'm makin' a promise to you. And I am not gonna break it this time, darlin', so help me god."

"I appreciate that." Rayna hesitated. "All right," she said, finally. "I will go to Mississippi with you, if that's what you want. But you're going to have to talk to me, Deacon. Tell me what happened. I can't go down there and be with your family if you're still keeping me in the dark."

This was another unexpected turn in the conversation, a hard right that threw Deacon badly off-balance. She had been asking him this for weeks and he'd been putting her off. Now he bit his lower lip, looking down. Rayna stood next to him, watching silently as he scuffed the hard earth with the toe of his boot and hunched up his shoulders.

"Ray, I don't want to put all this crap on you," he said, finally. "You shouldn't have to sit and listen to it."

"I don't want to, babe, I really don't. But you can't keep shutting me out." She took his hands in hers. "I know you're trying to protect me, and I love that about you. I always have. But this is part of you. It's part of us. We can't ignore it anymore. This - us – it's never going to work if you can't talk to me. You know that."

He did. And so they made their way back to the road, where his truck was parked. They got into the front seat and, over the course of the next two hours, as the raindrops fell, and thunder and lightning crashed around them, Deacon talked. He started from the beginning, with his earliest memories, and told her as much of the horror as he could bring himself to tell. It wasn't that he didn't trust her with the worst of it; it was just that the worst was unspeakable, and unnecessary. The depth of brutality and anger – the sheer cruelty he'd experienced as a small, sensitive boy – was more than enough.

Deacon kept his eyes trained out the windshield as he talked, grateful somehow for the cover of the storm around them. Rayna said very little, though she held his hand and gasped once or twice, crying quietly a few times. It wasn't until he stopped talking that she finally scooted across the front seat and pulled him into her arms. "Oh my god, Deacon. I had no idea. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry," she sobbed into his shoulder. He was dry-eyed, surprisingly. He wondered if he was finally cried out.

"I'm sorry too, Ray. I should've told you all this years ago. It's just ... I guess I was ashamed or somethin'. I'm startin' to figure out that none of it was my fault, but I carried a lot of it on my shoulders for a long time." He loosed his arms from her back, but she was still holding him close. "Darlin', there's one more thing I need to say to you: That night, after I asked you ... after I gave you the ring? I don't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure the reason I left you in bed was because I had one of those shitty nightmares about him. Every time that happens, I feel like I'm gonna lose it if I don't get a drink in me."

"Really? I always thought it was me," Rayna said, the wonder in her voice nearly lost in the shoulder of his coat. She was still holding onto him for dear life. "I always thought that I wasn't – I don't know. That I wasn't enough for you, or you were tired of me, or something. It hurt so bad, waking up alone."

"Oh no, darlin'. No way. I could never get tired of you. I love you more than anything in this world. Hell, if it wasn't for you, I don't know what would've happened to me, especially after Vince..."

His voice trailed off but something in his tone made Rayna's whole body stiffen. She pulled back just far enough so she could look him in the eye. He started to look away but she held his gaze. "What do you mean, Deacon?" she whispered.

"I dunno. Sometimes I thought ... I thought you might be better off if I wasn't around to screw everything up for you, like I did for him." He didn't say another word. He didn't have to. A fresh sob escaped Rayna's lips and she pulled him close again, holding him fiercely against her body as if she would never let him go.

"I'm just like my father," Deacon muttered. "I'm just exactly like that bastard."

"No, you're not, babe. You're not anything like him," Rayna said, her voice fierce despite the tears.

"I am, Ray," he said, his voice taking on a desperate tone. "There's no use denyin' it. That's what he always said, and he was right." Deacon reached up and took hold of her shoulders, pushing her away from him and staring hard into her eyes. "You're not gonna let me, Ray. Right? You're not ever gonna let me hurt our child. You're never gonna let me do what he did."

She nodded mutely, wiping her tear-stained cheeks. His voice became more urgent. "Promise me, Rayna. Please, promise me."

"I promise," she said. "Never. Never, ever."