Title: The Ghost of Hope
Author: Ellie (windblownellie@yahoo.com)
Rating: PG
Summary: As Rhett sits watch over Bonnie's body, Scarlett decides it's
time to be honest.
Just the effort of walking from her bed to his door had tired her; Scarlett was unsure if this was because she was still recovering from her fall and miscarriage, or because of the overpowering grief at the loss of her daughter.
For just a moment that terrible afternoon, she had felt a flicker of hope in the future, as Rhett had spoken with her on the patio about going on a second honeymoon, of starting over. Less than a minute later all of that had been shattered. Even whatever residual strength she'd found in having Rhett near her was gone, as he had seemed to descend into a madness near to what her father had experienced following her mother's death. She couldn't bear to see Rhett like that; her own pains had been pushed aside once again to face Rhett.
Heaving a sigh, she raised her hand and rapped gently on the dark wood of Rhett's door. "Rhett? Rhett, it's Scarlett." She waited to be met only with silence. Her brain was in no place to be playing mind games with Rhett, so she opted to be frank. "Rhett, I would like to come in and see our daughter. If you don't answer, I'm coming inside."
Before she could count to ten, the door creaked open to reveal a shaded room, illuminated by two hurricane lamps in the far corners. She let out a gasp, not at her daughter's body, but at the haggard appearance of Rhett. Upon seeing Rhett's face, her gaze locked, not even traveling to take in Bonnie's body on the bed. He stepped back to let her enter the room, but she turned to keep her eyes on him. As far as she could tell, he'd not even changed his clothes since the accident yesterday afternoon.
Scarlett was exhausted, ill, and emotionally devastated, but she could tell then that she would have to bite back whatever comments she had wanted to make to him. Now, he needed her to be there for him as he had been there for her in the past. Impulsively, she stepped back towards him, wrapping her arms around him.
Rhett tensed as Scarlett's arms encircled him; she had never been one to show sympathy or affection, particularly towards him. "Scarlett?" His voice crackled from tears and disuse, but his confusion was evident.
"I.." She was unsure what to say to him, what would make it right. As she tried to think, her emotions overrode her brain, and tears began to flow down her cheeks. She allowed herself to cry, wrapped around Rhett, as words came, unbidden. "I've lost everyone but you."
They stood for a moment, Rhett's hands cautiously roaming Scarlett's back, before he responded. "What do you mean?" Had she been listening closely, the trepidation he felt would have been clear.
"Everyone I've ever cared about, I've lost. Except you. But now I'm so afraid you'll leave too. You once told me you didn't believe I'd ever been afraid of anything. Well, I'm afraid of that."
He tried to interrupt her, but she placed her fingers on his lips to silence him. Now that the words were coming, she was afraid that if she didn't tell him now, she never would. "When you left with Bonnie, I was so afraid then that you weren't coming back, especially after I realized about.about the baby. I was so happy when you did return, but I was also afraid of letting you know how I really felt. So I was horrible to you, and then.I fell. I needed you then more than ever, more even than when you helped me leave Atlanta all those years ago, but I was also still scared. I think I had been scared so much by what has happened between us, I didn't think I could ask for you, or that you would come to me if I did."
The pause was full of gravity as Scarlett tried to find words to fit her feelings. "And now.god's nightgown, Rhett, this whole year has been so terrible for me. I'm tired of being afraid. I can't go on with this game anymore. I'm so weary I can barely able to walk to your door and be honest with you."
She'd done what she didn't want to do, she'd fallen back on him, asked him to hold her up again. But now it was done; the words couldn't be taken back. She wouldn't even if she could. She'd meant every one of them. Now, she could only hope that the old Rhett would surface, and hold up both of them.
Rhett was silent as he led her over to the divan by the shaded window. Without a word, he wearily sank down onto it, pulling her down beside him. For a long minute, his eyes locked with hers, willing her to look away, to show any sign of weakness. She met them, knowing that he would easily read the emotions bubbling to the surface, emotions she was to exhausted to hide.
"If two minutes ago, someone had told me you would come in here and tell me this, then asked what I would do, I never would have believed them, but I would have told them I would throw you back out of the room." His eyes drifted away from hers only long enough to look at Bonnie's lifeless form, as if to reassure himself this wasn't some terrible farce. "Now we both know I'd have been lying. I've been through a lot of fear and hurt in these past few months, too. When I was gone, I had myself convinced I didn't love you, that I could leave you. But when you were hurt, it just proved what a liar I was, even to myself. Part of me wanted to leave. I'll be honest--a small part of me still wants to leave. I've always been a coward who runs away, but I'll be damned if it's going to happen now. We've both been through too much to just walk away."
Scarlett glanced over to the bed where Bonnie lay before meeting his gaze. Happily, she noted that his face looked less like a corpse than it had when she'd entered the room. Hiding somewhere in his eyes was the ghost of hope. A million desires overwhelmed her at once, leaving her unsure whether she should laugh, cry, or continue in their first civil discussion in what seemed like years; the only thing she was sure of was that she wasn't leaving Rhett's side any time soon.
"I'm sorry, Rhett, I truly am. Admittedly, I probably married you for the wrong reasons, at least consciously, but I never wanted things to get this bad between us."
"Scarlett, we're not going to play the sorry game with this. We've both done things we shouldn't have, and both of us deserve some of the blame for this. And this is very far from where I wanted us to be when I asked you to marry me. I loved you, and wanted to spoil you the way I spoil Bonnie." After a second, he choked out a correction in tense. "Spoiled. I spoiled Bonnie."
For the first time in all the years she'd known him, tears streamed down Rhett's face, as his gaze vacillated between his wife and dead daughter. Uncertain of how to react, Scarlett followed her instinct and pulled him to her, resting his head on her shoulder. Taking comfort in his closeness, she could barely process what he'd just admitted to her. He loved her? Why had he never told her? He had spoken in the past tense-did he still? But now was not the time to press these questions. This hesitant truce would suffice for the time being.
"Rhett, Bonnie was the happiest child I've ever seen. Even happier than I was when I was a little girl. She loved you, and I'm glad that one of my children had a happy life." Sadness and regret tinged her voice as she held back her own tears. "Come to bed, Rhett, and get some sleep. Things will feel a little better tomorrow, after sleep and something to eat."
Pulling away from their embrace, she rose from the divan and offered her hand to him. Once more she was afraid, afraid that he would rebuff her, and startled by her boldness in inviting him back to her bed, even if it was simply to sleep.
His warm hand met hers, and he slowly arose from the cushions. In the silence, the crackling of his knees was audible. Scarlett realized with a start how much older than she he was, and what a toll their constant bickering must have taken. The haggard, aged face she met upon entering the room returned to her mind, and thought of how much she had aged him. She would have to make it up to him; this could be righted, she knew, if they both tried.
With a last lingering look at Bonnie, stretched out on the bed, Rhett turned to the hurricane lamps and blew them out. In the dim light, they made their way to the door, hand in hand.
Just the effort of walking from her bed to his door had tired her; Scarlett was unsure if this was because she was still recovering from her fall and miscarriage, or because of the overpowering grief at the loss of her daughter.
For just a moment that terrible afternoon, she had felt a flicker of hope in the future, as Rhett had spoken with her on the patio about going on a second honeymoon, of starting over. Less than a minute later all of that had been shattered. Even whatever residual strength she'd found in having Rhett near her was gone, as he had seemed to descend into a madness near to what her father had experienced following her mother's death. She couldn't bear to see Rhett like that; her own pains had been pushed aside once again to face Rhett.
Heaving a sigh, she raised her hand and rapped gently on the dark wood of Rhett's door. "Rhett? Rhett, it's Scarlett." She waited to be met only with silence. Her brain was in no place to be playing mind games with Rhett, so she opted to be frank. "Rhett, I would like to come in and see our daughter. If you don't answer, I'm coming inside."
Before she could count to ten, the door creaked open to reveal a shaded room, illuminated by two hurricane lamps in the far corners. She let out a gasp, not at her daughter's body, but at the haggard appearance of Rhett. Upon seeing Rhett's face, her gaze locked, not even traveling to take in Bonnie's body on the bed. He stepped back to let her enter the room, but she turned to keep her eyes on him. As far as she could tell, he'd not even changed his clothes since the accident yesterday afternoon.
Scarlett was exhausted, ill, and emotionally devastated, but she could tell then that she would have to bite back whatever comments she had wanted to make to him. Now, he needed her to be there for him as he had been there for her in the past. Impulsively, she stepped back towards him, wrapping her arms around him.
Rhett tensed as Scarlett's arms encircled him; she had never been one to show sympathy or affection, particularly towards him. "Scarlett?" His voice crackled from tears and disuse, but his confusion was evident.
"I.." She was unsure what to say to him, what would make it right. As she tried to think, her emotions overrode her brain, and tears began to flow down her cheeks. She allowed herself to cry, wrapped around Rhett, as words came, unbidden. "I've lost everyone but you."
They stood for a moment, Rhett's hands cautiously roaming Scarlett's back, before he responded. "What do you mean?" Had she been listening closely, the trepidation he felt would have been clear.
"Everyone I've ever cared about, I've lost. Except you. But now I'm so afraid you'll leave too. You once told me you didn't believe I'd ever been afraid of anything. Well, I'm afraid of that."
He tried to interrupt her, but she placed her fingers on his lips to silence him. Now that the words were coming, she was afraid that if she didn't tell him now, she never would. "When you left with Bonnie, I was so afraid then that you weren't coming back, especially after I realized about.about the baby. I was so happy when you did return, but I was also afraid of letting you know how I really felt. So I was horrible to you, and then.I fell. I needed you then more than ever, more even than when you helped me leave Atlanta all those years ago, but I was also still scared. I think I had been scared so much by what has happened between us, I didn't think I could ask for you, or that you would come to me if I did."
The pause was full of gravity as Scarlett tried to find words to fit her feelings. "And now.god's nightgown, Rhett, this whole year has been so terrible for me. I'm tired of being afraid. I can't go on with this game anymore. I'm so weary I can barely able to walk to your door and be honest with you."
She'd done what she didn't want to do, she'd fallen back on him, asked him to hold her up again. But now it was done; the words couldn't be taken back. She wouldn't even if she could. She'd meant every one of them. Now, she could only hope that the old Rhett would surface, and hold up both of them.
Rhett was silent as he led her over to the divan by the shaded window. Without a word, he wearily sank down onto it, pulling her down beside him. For a long minute, his eyes locked with hers, willing her to look away, to show any sign of weakness. She met them, knowing that he would easily read the emotions bubbling to the surface, emotions she was to exhausted to hide.
"If two minutes ago, someone had told me you would come in here and tell me this, then asked what I would do, I never would have believed them, but I would have told them I would throw you back out of the room." His eyes drifted away from hers only long enough to look at Bonnie's lifeless form, as if to reassure himself this wasn't some terrible farce. "Now we both know I'd have been lying. I've been through a lot of fear and hurt in these past few months, too. When I was gone, I had myself convinced I didn't love you, that I could leave you. But when you were hurt, it just proved what a liar I was, even to myself. Part of me wanted to leave. I'll be honest--a small part of me still wants to leave. I've always been a coward who runs away, but I'll be damned if it's going to happen now. We've both been through too much to just walk away."
Scarlett glanced over to the bed where Bonnie lay before meeting his gaze. Happily, she noted that his face looked less like a corpse than it had when she'd entered the room. Hiding somewhere in his eyes was the ghost of hope. A million desires overwhelmed her at once, leaving her unsure whether she should laugh, cry, or continue in their first civil discussion in what seemed like years; the only thing she was sure of was that she wasn't leaving Rhett's side any time soon.
"I'm sorry, Rhett, I truly am. Admittedly, I probably married you for the wrong reasons, at least consciously, but I never wanted things to get this bad between us."
"Scarlett, we're not going to play the sorry game with this. We've both done things we shouldn't have, and both of us deserve some of the blame for this. And this is very far from where I wanted us to be when I asked you to marry me. I loved you, and wanted to spoil you the way I spoil Bonnie." After a second, he choked out a correction in tense. "Spoiled. I spoiled Bonnie."
For the first time in all the years she'd known him, tears streamed down Rhett's face, as his gaze vacillated between his wife and dead daughter. Uncertain of how to react, Scarlett followed her instinct and pulled him to her, resting his head on her shoulder. Taking comfort in his closeness, she could barely process what he'd just admitted to her. He loved her? Why had he never told her? He had spoken in the past tense-did he still? But now was not the time to press these questions. This hesitant truce would suffice for the time being.
"Rhett, Bonnie was the happiest child I've ever seen. Even happier than I was when I was a little girl. She loved you, and I'm glad that one of my children had a happy life." Sadness and regret tinged her voice as she held back her own tears. "Come to bed, Rhett, and get some sleep. Things will feel a little better tomorrow, after sleep and something to eat."
Pulling away from their embrace, she rose from the divan and offered her hand to him. Once more she was afraid, afraid that he would rebuff her, and startled by her boldness in inviting him back to her bed, even if it was simply to sleep.
His warm hand met hers, and he slowly arose from the cushions. In the silence, the crackling of his knees was audible. Scarlett realized with a start how much older than she he was, and what a toll their constant bickering must have taken. The haggard, aged face she met upon entering the room returned to her mind, and thought of how much she had aged him. She would have to make it up to him; this could be righted, she knew, if they both tried.
With a last lingering look at Bonnie, stretched out on the bed, Rhett turned to the hurricane lamps and blew them out. In the dim light, they made their way to the door, hand in hand.