Thanks everyone for the nice reviews. I'm really enjoying writing this story, glad people are enjoying reading it as well. I'm clearly attached to the characters, and try to stay true to who they were season 1 despite the sometimes odd directions that the writers on the show have taken them.

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Deacon woke up, at least he thought he was awake, but he couldn't be sure because he felt like he was surrounded by water and everyone else was far away. There was a surge of pain that shot through every nerve in his body starting at his core and intensifying as it made it's way to the tips of his fingers and toes. He tried to scream, but the liquid surrounding him was preventing him from talking, but also from being able to breath. As he passed out he heard the lilt of Rayna's laugh in the background and wondered if this was the sound of heaven welcoming him in.

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Rayna had been handling publicity for the launch of Juliette's new album. It was the first one she'd released since the baby had come, and her music definitely had a new tone to it. Gone were the songs about boys and busses. There was more of a maturity to both the lyrics, and the melodies she was crafting these days. Rayna was trying to convey this to the reporter as she walked him through the Highway 65 offices.

"You're really going to be impressed with her new sound, it even shocked me how much depth some of her new songs have. "Sunshine Through the Rain" is really going to be her next big hit. It's all anyone's going to be singing all summer long."

"The song of the summer?" The reporter asked with a smile. "Juliette Barnes is the next Robin Thicke or Pharrell."

"Please," Rayna laughed light heartedly. "Don't even say her name in the same sentence as those two men. There's no comparison."

All of a sudden the reporter looked down noticing that his foot was wet. "I think you may have a leak."

Rayna's eyes scanned down towards a stream of water that was flowing from underneath the door of the men's bathroom. "That's strange," she thought. She turned to the reporter. "We must have a leaky sink. Let me just turn it off. Rayna reached out to turn the nob to the bathroom door but it was locked. She jiggled it a few times confused how the door got locked without anyone in there. All of a sudden she started to panic and began to bang on the door.

"What's wrong?" The reporter asked. "What's going on?"

"My husband, did you see him go in there?" Rayna was frantically banging on the door by this point trying to get it open.

"I don't know, I didn't see him."

Bucky noticed all the commotion and came running over. "What's going on?"

"The door's locked, and the sink is running, no one is answering. I think Deacon might be in there. We have to get it open."

"Ok Rayna, we'll get it open."

Bucky and the reporter grabbed a table and rammed it into the door until it burst open. Rayna's assessment of the situation had been right. The sink was turned on full blast spilling onto the bathroom floor, and there and in puddle face down was Deacon. Rayna ran to him taking him into her arms.

"Deacon," she yelled. "Baby. Please, someone call an ambulance. I don't think he's breathing!"

Rayna's tears fell onto Deacon's face as she tried to breath life back into his body. "Please babe, don't leave me."

The next twenty-minutes were a blur filled with sirens and EMTs and an ambulance ride to the hospital. Then all of a sudden silence, which for Rayna, was the hardest thing to take. She sat in the waiting room at Vanderbilt ER with her head in her hands and nothing but her fears to keep her company.

Suddenly she noticed that someone was standing next to her. Rayna looked up and realized that the reporter was there holding a cup of coffee out to her. He must have ridden to the hospital with Bucky. "It's not much, but it's warm." Rayna nodded and took the cup from him. "Thanks." Her voice came out in barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry about your husband Ms. Jaymes."

Rayna looked up at him. "Claybourne. My name is Claybourne."

"Right. I'm sorry about your husband Mrs. Claybourne. I don't mean to intrude, but…well, I'm a music reporter and I've heard Deacon play a bunch so…I just wanted to stay a little and make sure he's going to be okay."

Rayna smiled weakly. How could this guy know that it was never going to be okay again. He probably thought Deacon was drunk and passed out. No one outside of the family knew he was sick, that's how he'd wanted it. "That's nice of you, but really, it could be hours, you should really go home.

Just then the doctor walked in. "Mrs. Claybourne?"

"Yes?"

The doctor eyed the reporter. "Can I talk to you in private?"

"Oh, I'll go get some air." The reporter headed out of the waiting room. When they were alone the doctor turned back to Rayna. "I'm not going to lie to you. It's not good. His liver has gone into massive failure."

Rayna swallowed hard trying to hold back the tears.

The doctor continued. "He needs a transplant, and he needs one now. Without one, he has maybe two weeks at best."

When she heard his words all efforts to keep it together failed, and Rayna couldn't hold back the tears. "He'll move up on the transplant list right? To the top."

"Yes, he's moved towards the top of the list, but the chance of getting a donor in two weeks isn't very high."

Rayna nodded her head, the full weight of what he was saying hitting her like a ton of bricks. She finally spoke through the sobs. "Can I take him home?" All Rayna could think about was being alone with him in their bed tonight, holding him in her arms and being as close to him as possible."

"I don't think you understand Mrs. Claybourne. Without the transplant he's never going home again. He can't survive any longer on his own without the help of the machines here in the hospital."

Rayna sat back down in the waiting room chair, gripping the arm for support. "Can I at least see him?"

"Yes, of course, come with me. I'll show you to his room."

Rayna followed the doctor down the long hallway to the room where Deacon would most likely die. He looked so small laying there in the middle of the bed with all those tubes attached to him. A far cry from the strong boy she'd met at The Bluebird all those years ago. Rayna thought how she'd give anything to go back there and relive all the days in between again, even the bad ones that were filled with heartbreak and broken furniture.

She sat down in the chair next to his bed and took Deacon's hand. When she touched him his eyes fluttered open. "Hey Ray." His voice was so weak she could barely hear him. "Hi babe."

"Guess you're never going to get to know where my surprise honeymoon destination was going to be."

Rayna laughed through the tears. Deacon had been teasing her since the wedding that as soon as he was better he'd planned a secret trip for their honeymoon. Each week he'd drop another hint, but they were so vague that Rayna was nowhere near being able to figure it out.

Deacon closed his eyes and pictured them on the beach in Mexico. He'd wanted to surprise her and take her back to the little beach town where they'd written "Postcards From Mexico" nearly 18 years ago now.

He'd been on his second trip to rehab. The first one had been 30 days, but this trip had been court mandated due to a DUI and the judge had said 60. It was bad enough that Rayna had to play four weeks worth of shows without him, but he was also going to miss the two-week break that they'd planned in a tiny beach town near Tulum.

They'd been playing their 13th show in a row without a day off when a guy in the road crew had told them about it. It sounded like heaven to Deacon and Rayna, two weeks alone without any fans screaming for their autographs, any managers asking for their next set list, and absolutely no demands on their time. They'd been looking forward to it for months. Deacon could tell Rayna was incredibly disappointed, but typical Rayna would never admit it. "It's alright babe. I just want you to get better. That's all that's important to me. We'll take the vacation some other time."

"No Ray, I'm the one who messed up here. You shouldn't have to suffer cause of my failures. You've been looking forward to this trip for a while baby. You should still go. Read your book, soak up the sun, relax. It'll only make me feel worse if know I kept you from this."

Rayna played with the hair at the nape of Deacon's neck. "Well, it's not going to be the same without you, but alright. Maybe some time alone would be good."

So Deacon headed to rehab and five weeks later Rayna hopped a plane to Mexico. She'd sent him a couple of postcards as soon as she got there. They didn't say much. "Palm trees and warm breezes don't compare to the sound of your voice." And: "Enjoying the sun, but would rather be seeing your white ass." That one made Deacon laugh so hard his roommate gave him a dirty look.

He was trying not to feel too down about missing the trip. After all, he'd been doing really well in rehab this time. He was sure this was the one that was going to stick, and if it did he'd never have to be separated from Rayna again. He was flipping through a magazine when one of the administrators came in. "Deacon Claybourne."

"Yep, that's me."

"We've had an issue with overcrowding. All mandated sentences have been shortened. You're free to go." Deacon couldn't believe how lucky he was. Two weeks early and a week left before their next show. He didn't even head home to pack. He just took the clothes he had at rehab, shoved them into his duffle bag and headed to the airport. Five hours later he had landed in Cancun and was in a cab headed towards the town of Akumal. When he got to the hotel he stowed his bag with the people at the front desk and headed to the bar.

The first time he was in a bar after rehab he was always a little shaky, but he just kept the thought of seeing Rayna in his head. He pulled up a stool and asked the bartender for a seltzer with a lime. The bartender raised and eyebrow and said "No cerveza?" but Deacon just shook his head.

"You speak any English?"

"A little bit. I work at a bar in Cancun during spring break. Lots of Americans up there partying, getting too drunk, making mistakes."

"Yeah, I've had my share of those nights. In fact, maybe I'm looking to make a mistake tonight. Any lovely single ladies hanging around this hotel?"

"Not many, this is hotel for lovers. Mostly couples stay here, and a few single men if you know what I mean." The bartender eyed Deacon in his cowboy boots, Wranglers, and short sleeve button down. "From the look of you though, I don't think they're what you're looking for."

Deacon laughed. "Nope, probably not. Any redheads? I have a thing for redheads."

"Actually you're in luck. There is a woman here by herself, red hair, real pretty, American, but I don't think she's looking to meet anyone. Comes here every night around 9:00. Sits in the bar, drinks a vodka and cranberry and reads her book. Stays for an hour or two, then heads to bed. Don't think she's the kind of girl you make a mistake with."

Deacon smiled and winked at the bartender. "All girls can be the kind you make a mistake with. You just need the right kind of guy."

An hour later there she was, right on time at 9:00. Deacon watched her as she made her way to the table in the corner by the beach. God she looked beautiful. She was wearing a light cotton sundress that hung off her shoulders and revealed the slightest hint of a sunburn. Her red hair was loose in waves, but it was a little messier than normal, no doubt from the wind and the sand. He guessed if he walked up to her and sniffed her right now she'd smell like coconut oil and the ocean. Man, he wanted to smell her, but he also wanted to be patient. It was a virtue that he tried hard to learn, especially while he was in rehab. Nearly six weeks away from her had been hell, and he was going to enjoy every second of this reunion. He watched her as she stretched out her perfectly tanned legs, propping her cork wedge sandals on rock by her table. She hadn't noticed him yet which gave Deacon an idea.

He turned back towards the bartender. "That her?" He asked gesturing with his head toward Rayna.

"Si, La Americana."

"Have the waiter take her a whiskey and ginger ale."

"No, sir. She drinks vodka, vodka and cranberry."

"Yeah, I know, but tonight she'll drink whiskey."

"Rayna had acquired a taste for whiskey, she had to in the years she spent with Deacon. She liked it well enough. He knew it wasn't her favorite, but maybe just a little part of him wanted to be dangerous. He knew he shouldn't be anywhere near alcohol on his first night out of rehab, but the idea of tasting the whiskey on Rayna's lips just added to the excitement of the moment.

The waiter brought the drink to Rayna who was looking down at her book when he approached. "Excuse me miss. Whiskey and ginger ale from the gentleman at the bar."

Rayna looked up staring at the waiter. "What?"

The waiter placed the drink down on her table. "From the man at the bar."

Rayna looked over and there he was sitting on a stool only ten feet away. She was shocked and ecstatic all at the same time. She opened her mouth in excitement, but then noticed Deacon shaking his head and she settled down. She thanked the waiter for the drink and took a sip. She watched Deacon as he watched her from across the room. Finally he stood up and wandered over. "Is this seat taken?"

"Feel free." Deacon settled into the chair next to Rayna. Rayna took a few more sips of her drink as she smiled at him. "So am I harboring a fugitive?"

"No extradition here. I think we're safe."

Rayna made a gesture in protest but Deacon held up his hand to stop her. "I got an early release. Good behavior and all. Guess I lucked out this time." Deacon traced circles over the top of Rayna's hand with his finger. "Want to dance?" There was a small mariachi band playing sweet love songs on the other side of the bar, but there really wasn't any dance floor and no one in the bar was paying attention to anything other than their drinks and their companions. "Where are we going to dance? On the bar?"

Deacon stood up taking Rayna's hand. "Come on." He led her out to the beach to a spot where they could still hear the music but they were more isolated under the palms. Rayna removed her shoes and followed Deacon. He pulled her into his arms and the two of them began to sway back and forth. Rayna rested her head on Deacon's chest. It had seemed like forever since she'd seen him. Finding him here in this far away place where he wasn't supposed to be was like the best gift possible on Christmas morning. All she wanted was to unwrap him.

Deacon leaned over brushing his lips against her tender shoulders then sweeping kisses up her neck towards her ear. When he got there he took her lobe in his mouth and sucked it sensuously. Then he whispered "I want to fuck you so deeply and make you cum so hard that all you remember is my name."

Rayna's whole body shuttered at his words. She lifted her head and snaked her hand around into his hair pulling his head down so his lips met hers in a hungry kiss. Rayna moaned as he expertly swirled his tongue into her mouth. She pulled back just enough so her forehead was pressed against Deacon's. "I need you now." Deacon took Rayna's hand and turned to walk towards the bungalows but Rayna pulled him in the other direction. "No, here."

"On the beach?" Deacon asked with surprise.

Rayna just nodded her head and walked him over to a more secluded area behind some rocks that revealed a cave. Once they reached their destination there was a flurry of hands. Buttons were undone, dresses pulled down, shirts pulled off and a pair of boots were laying on their side by the entrance. Deacon certainly made good on his promise to make her scream out his name. Luckily the waves crashing on the shore were slightly louder than Rayna, or Deacon may have gone straight from rehab to a Mexican jail.

They spent the rest of the week limbs tangled, drinking agua fresca in the private hammock that was tied to the tree outside of their bungalow. They wrote a couple of songs that week including "Postcards From Mexico," the song that would become one of their biggest hits.

Deacon had envisioned them returning to that spot on the Gulf of Mexico, once again laying in the hammock writing songs and making love until their forty-something bodies couldn't take it anymore. He felt sad knowing that they probably weren't going to ever make it there. That this right here, this puke green hospital room with orange curtains is where their love story was most likely going to end. Rayna kept trying to tell him that he just needed to stay positive and he'd be home in a few days, but he could read it all over her face. That was the thing about them. He always knew what she was thinking, even when she didn't know it herself. He could see as plain as day that she thought he was going to die. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, she was never going to be able to keep anything from him.

Just then Maddie and Daphne ran into the room. "Dad!" Maddie threw herself at Deacon. "Are you alright?

"I'm okay kiddo. It's hard to keep me down."

Deacon had been sick for months, but the girls had never seen him like this and it frightened them to the core. Rayna could see it in their eyes and thought it was best to pull them out of the room for a bit. "Come on girls, let's give your dad a little rest, it's been a big day. The girls reluctantly followed Rayna out of the room.

"Why'd you pull us away from him?" Maddie asked tears in her eyes.

"I wanted to be honest with you ladies, but I didn't want to do it in front of Deacon cause I don't want him to know how sick he is. I want him to fight."

"How sick is he?" Dapne asked.

"Real sick sweet girl. The doctor says that without a transplant he only has a couple of weeks to live."

This made the girls cry even harder. "If you want we can go back in and sit with him for a while. I think he'd like that." Rayna and Daphne started to walk into Deacon's room, but Maddie hung back. "Aren't you coming?"

"In a minute. I just have to use the restroom."

"Alright." Rayna and Daphne entered Deacon's room while Maddie headed back out to the waiting room and up to the reporter who was still sitting there. "You're a reporter right?"

The shaken reporter looked up from his coffee cup. "Yes."

"You work for a local daily that has an online component? Your articles reach thousands of people?"

"Yes, we have a circulation of about 100,000 plus double with online traffic."

"So if you were going to post a story, say tonight you could reach over 100,000 people?"

"Yes, why?"

"Cause I have a story for you."