"It's hideous."
"Choosing a tombstone is the privilege of the living, you should have thought about that before dying."
Rayna looks around again to make sure they're alone. Well, that she is alone. It's been two months now, and she often comes here to sit on the grass in front of Vince's tombstone. It's the first time, though, that Vince's ghost chose to appear. He's shown up countless times in countless other places, but somehow, never here.
"Why do you still come here?" he asks. "You know I'm not there," he says, waving a hand at the grave, "since I'm here." He gestures at himself to make his point.
"I don't know, it's what... normal people do."
Normal people. People who don't have lenghty conversations with their deceased best friend. People who aren't... crazy.
"You're not crazy."
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Reading my mind."
"I told you already, I can't read your mind. I just guessed what you were thinking. I know you."
"You knew me."
"Whatever. Let's go."
"Go where?"
"Anywhere but here. I find this place creepy."
"You find your own grave creepy?"
"Not you?"
"I want to stay."
Vince sighs. He's been pacing around until now, but he resolves to sit down next to Rayna. Out of the blue, he pinches her arm, hard enough that she shrieks.
"Ouch! Why did you do that?"
"To prove you're not crazy."
—
"Buck?"
"Yeah?"
They've been riding in the back of the bus for thirty minutes now in a near complete silence. It's not unusual lately. He's not sure what to say. She doesn't want to say anything. And so silence is the logical choice.
"It's going to sound weird, but..." Rayna rolls up her sleeve to expose her forearm. "Can you see this?"
Bucky frowns. "You mean that bruise? Yes, it doesn't look pretty. Does it hurt? What happened?"
She rolls her sleeve back down. "Nothing, don't worry. I just needed to... be sure."
Bucky looks confused. "Ray, are you okay?"
She forces a smile. "I am. Forget about it."
—
She'd never really smoked before, but since the funeral, she's been buying her own packs.
"This thing is going to kill you, you know," Vince says.
"Look who's talking."
She's sitting on the edge of the hotel pool with her feet in the water. It's the middle of the night, and she shouldn't be here, but she doesn't care. She takes one last puff before she crushes the cigarette in the ashtray she brought from the room. The room where Deacon is currently passed out on the bed. He can't sleep anymore without the help of pills or whiskey. He's a ghost too these days. A different kind of ghost.
She puts her hand in the water and, without warning, she splashes Vince who's sitting next her.
"Hey!" he protests.
"I just wanted to check if you could, you know, get wet."
"I can push you in that pool too."
She smiles. It's the kind of thing Alive Vince would have said.
"It was way too soon," she sighs.
"Too soon for what?"
"To get back on tour."
She doesn't know why she'd let Watty talk her into going back on the road. He'd said that it would help her, that it would help Deacon, to get out of Nashville, but it's the opposite. It's making things worse.
They're doing one song in memory of Vince at the end of each show, and she's been breaking down crying on stage every single night.
She can't go on like this.
She pushes herself up on her hands and lets herself slip into the pool. She stays a few seconds underwater where the world is muted and everything looks bright and blurry. When she comes up for air again, Vince isn't there anymore.
—
"Why am I the only one to see you?" she asks. "What don't you go haunt Deacon? He needs your help."
The soundcheck ended an hour ago, and she's been hiding in the bus mastersuite ever since.
"He doesn't want to listen."
"What do you mean?"
"He doesn't believe I'm real."
"I don't believe you're real either."
"You do, or you wouldn't see me."
She sighs. "Maybe." She pauses. "How is it?"
"To be dead?" he asks. Rayna nods. "Not very different than being alive, but... I don't think that's it. I have this feeling, like I'm... stuck. Like it's temporary."
"Like you're supposed to go... somewhere else?"
"Yes, but I don't know how yet."
She knows it's incredibly selfish of her, but she's happy he's here. She got used to him. She would miss him if he were to leave. Not even remotely as much as she misses Alive Vince, but still. She would miss Ghost Vince.
—
It feels like she lost Deacon at the same time they lost Vince. Deacon's body's still there, but Deacon's soul has been missing ever since.
It feels like living and sleeping next to an empty shell.
She doesn't know how to help him. Her own grief is just barely bearable, and she fears that if she were to dive into the abyss to try to get Deacon out of there, they would both drown.
—
She's been crying so much lately, sometimes she doesn't even realize she's crying. "I don't know how to help him, Vince," she sobs.
She's locked herself in her dressing room after Buck had come to tell her they couldn't find Deacon. He'd disappeared after the soundcheck, and no one has been able to locate him ever since.
"Ray," Vince says.
"It's more than grief. He feels responsible for what happenend to you. I'm afraid... he'll never forgive himself."
"You can help him, Ray. You can. I know you two."
"It's different."
"It's not."
She sits down on the floor and folds her legs up against her chest. She wraps her arms around her knees and buries her face into them. She vaguely registers someone knocking on her dressing room's door and calling out her name, but she doesn't move or respond.
Vince sits down next to her in silence, and she cries some more.
—
TBC
—
A/N: Just a weird fic idea I needed to get out. I'm going to keep updating "Found", but I'll update this (probably) short and (definitely) bizarre story at the same time.