A/N: I know I've neglected this story, but I love this AU. I'm still very much interested in adding to it... if there are people still interested in reading?

August 7, 2014

Rayna pushes the door open, and makes her way into the bar. The place is uncharacteristically quiet, even more so considering how crowded it is. People are gathered around a circle stage in the center of the room, all eyes and ears for the girl standing on it with a black beat-up guitar around her neck. There's a poster pinned above the bar advertising tonight's line-up, and Rayna manages to read the name at the top of the list. She snorts. Madeline Keen. The girl on stage, yet, looks a lot like a certain 15-year-old Maddie Claybourne.

"The next one is called Beyond the Sun," Maddie explains to the crowd. "It's the first time I'll sing it in public and—" She stops when her look falls on Rayna. Her mom stares back, impassive. "And I guess it will be the last one for tonight," Maddie announces, eliciting murmurs of disapproval.

Rayna recognizes the first notes – she's heard Maddie play it at home – but watching her perform the song in front of an enthralled audience gives a whole different spin to it. "I wonder what I'd choose if given the choice, between silence and noise, words or a voice," she hears her daughter sing, and she thinks how this is a dilemma Maddie will never have to sort. She's fortunate enough to have inherited an immense talent for both.

She gets a round of applause as she ends the song with a warm thanks, y'all. She's in her element. She unplugs her guitar and slips the strap off, before she jumps downstage. Rayna sees her walk her way.

"Daphne ratted me out?"

"No, she's been a loyal little sister. You see Doug Weaver over there?" Rayna points to a man sitting at the bar. "He works at Tupelo Creek. We go way back. He called me because he thought I'd probably like to know my 15-year-old daughter is singing in bars at night."

"It's barely 9:15."

"How did you get this gig? How did you even get in here? You're underage."

"I've got a friend who knows the booker."

"Which friend?"

"You don't know her." Watching her daughter's look of defiance, Rayna gets an unpleasant flashback to 27 years ago. Her stomach tightens. "I guess this is the part where I'm grounded for life?" Maddie asks.

"No, this is the part where we talk. But not here. Go get your things while I'll say hi to Doug."

They've walked to the car in a relative silence, and Rayna's been trying to think of the best way to start this conversation with her daughter. She sees so much of herself in Maddie, it should make things easier. Weirdly, it makes them more complicated.

She beeps the SUV open, and Maddie drops her guitar case in the trunk. They take their respective seats, as Rayna fidgets with the key. Instead of putting it in the ignition, she turns toward her daughter.

"Madeline Keen?" she asks.

"Boulevard."

"I figured." They both smile. "Have you already done this before?"

"I've been singing at open mics, but it was the first time I actually got a gig. As the opening of the opening... but, still."

"Judging by the crowd's response, I wouldn't have guessed you were opening." This earns Rayna the most genuine smile from Maddie. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Would you have let me do it?"

It's pointless to lie to her. "Not like that, not at a bar," she admits.

"Then you have your answer."

"You know what your dad and I think about you starting your career so young, we've talked about it and—"

"It's not even that, Mom," Maddie cuts her off. "I just want to share my songs. I have no interest in starting to sing professionally yet. The thing is... whatever I'll later do, I'll always be Rayna Jaymes and Deacon Claybourne's daughter. Sometimes I fear I won't be able to tell if people are earnest when they'll say they love my music or if they'll just want to exploit my name."

"Honey." Rayna wasn't expecting that. She's stunned by both Maddie's self-awareness and blunt honesty.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of my name, but... I loved tonight. I loved seeing people react to my music. My music only. You get what I mean?"

She gets it. She gets it more than anyone.

August 8, 2014

"How are the girls doing?" Watty asks.

Rayna wonders if he'll someday feel comfortable enough to use the word granddaughters, but she's not going to pressure him to in any way. They're sitting opposite each other on the terrace of a small café. Rayna's got her sunglasses on, foremost because it's an habit in order to be less recognized, but today it also conveniently conceals the sleep-deprived circles under her eyes.

"I found one of them singing in a bar."

"I hope we're talking about Maddie."

"Now don't even joke about it. Daphne lied to cover her sister without the slightest second thought. I'm not sure it bodes well for the quality of my future sleep," she complains, prompting a hearty laugh from Watty. There's a beat, before she notes, "You don't seem too surprised about Maddie."

"Apples never fall far from the tree."

She smiles. "Yeah?" He doesn't answer, only smiles back. "You know, this got me thinking," she goes on. "I was barely one year older than Maddie when I started. When I think of all the ways it could have gone wrong, I'm more grateful than ever for the people who were put on my path. You, Deacon, Buck. Only people who had my best interests in mind. In this business, this is far from a given. I got incredibly lucky."

"It wasn't only luck. You've always been a good judge of character."

"Thanks, Dad." There's a loaded pause as they look at each other. It's been eight months, she's not sure why she chose this particular moment. "I'm sorry, it sounded weird when I said it, and—"

"No, no, no. It's just... Yes, it sounded weird." They both smile.

"Should I stick to Watty?"

"No, I just need to... get used to it," he confesses.

"Me too."

He clears his throat. "Rayna, I haven't said it yet, but I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me the opportunity to be your dad. Even if only now, even if—" He struggles to finish his sentence.

She knows he's not a fan of grand speeches, so she reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers lightly. "Thanks for letting me."