Author's Note: This is my first Gone with the Wind fanfic, so I'm a little terrified to post this. I'd love to get your feedback.


As a cool December wind swept against his carriage, Rhett Butler cursed himself for his stupidity. Christmas in Atlanta. God himself could not have given him a more bitter punishment than to spend Christmas in this town that held only memories of loss and dreams now buried. What had possessed him to promise his estranged wife that he would return often enough to keep gossip down—when all he had wanted was to leave without a backwards glance? But for some ridiculous and obtuse reason, he had promised to return and so here he was, traveling through the quiet streets of Atlanta on Christmas Eve. Damn him for picking such a foolish time to leave Scarlett as early fall. He hadn't even considered the implications at the time, but it naturally meant that he would have to return for Christmastime if he planned on honoring his word to keep gossip down.

And God knows he had certainly considered not honoring his word many times these last couple weeks. But somehow it seemed too cruel even for him to stay away when he had promised he'd hold the gossip at bay. As the carriage moved through the serene streets, he told himself and not for the first time that he was coming back for the sake of Wade and Ella, to soften the blow of his desertion of their mother. It was true that it brought guilt to his heart to imagine their sad young faces, bewildered on Christmas morning by his absence. But somewhere, deep down, there lie another emotion too indistinct and too fuzzy for him to even recognize, one that had carried him inexorably, ceaselessly back to Atlanta, carried him back as if against his will to this town that was still too raw and too new to soothe his weary mind.

Emptiness had cloaked him like a familiar blanket these last few months and although it was strange to be back in this city, he felt nothing. He felt unchanged since that gray mist-filled night three months ago when he had looked into his wife's pleading eyes and softly but lightly told her he did not give a damn. He had meant it then and he still did. How could he care about anything now that Bonnie was gone? Bonnie. His Bonnie, his darling girl. Rhett envisioned his daughter—her bold blue eyes, her black flouncing curls, her trilling laughter, her stubborn furrowed brow—and his heart clenched with sorrow. She had taken everything with her, taken every last drop of love, and now he felt nothing but dull numbing pain.

He rubbed his temples and sighed. This was torture—to endure the first Christmas without Bonnie and to spend it here in Atlanta of all places. It would have been torture anywhere, but any place would have been better than here: his mother's sedate house on the Battery in Charleston, the quaint old towns of Europe, anywhere. Why the hell was he even here? It made no goddamn sense.

The carriage drove pass Five Points and moved closer towards its destination. He wondered but with no real curiosity if the Peachtree mansion would be decorated in its elaborate holiday finery, but he knew the answer as soon as he thought it. Of course it would, for Scarlett loved Christmas with the unbridled enthusiasm of a small child and Rhett doubted that would ever change, no matter how many hardships life threw her way. Their house had always been ostentatiously turned out at Christmastime—massive heaping pine boughs covering every inch of the winding veranda banisters, cinnamon and bayberry candles burning brightly on every windowsill, a massive pine spruce sitting proudly in the parlor, bedecked and bedazzled with ornaments and ribbons and bugles and candy canes. And of course there were always obscene piles of gifts underneath that gilded tree on Christmas day, for Scarlett delighted in receiving presents and, because she loved to recklessly spend money, she delighted in giving them as well. Christmastime was the only time the ominous house ever seemed to be filled with genuine merriment, with real happiness. Unbidden, his mind traveled back to the first Christmas they had spent together after their marriage...

The children were asleep in the nursery and they had retired to their bedroom for the evening. Rhett lounged carelessly on the bed as Scarlett sat on the plush ottoman before her vanity brushing her long black hair. With a light smile, he rose towards the dresser and retrieved a small flat package bound with a white ribbon from the top drawer. He moved towards the vanity and in an airy flourish placed the gift in front of Scarlett.

"Oh, a present!" she cried. Her smile dimpled and her eyes shone with a childlike excitement as she reached out for it, but he plucked it away at the last second and held it out of reach.

"Not now, my darling. Presents are for Christmas morning," he teased, his black eyes dancing with malicious glee.

"Oh, Rhett, please! It's not fair." said Scarlett petulantly, as she spun on the ottoman to face him. "Why can't I open up it tonight? It's Christmas Eve, after all!"

"And ruin the fun of getting it tomorrow? No."

"Oh, but Rhett! I don't want to wait until tomorrow morning. It's just one present. You shouldn't be so mean and tease me like this! It's not fair!"

She was on her feet now and trying to snatch the present away from him as he held it aloft, beyond the reach of her arms. Her eyes flashed a stubborn green and a frustrated blush covered her cheeks. She was never as charming as when in a fury like this one and Rhett watched her with pleasure mingled with amusement. He laughed before relinquishing.

"Fine, my greedy little girl." He placed the package in her hands. "You may open it, but don't come crying to me if you're bored with your presents tomorrow morning."

She wrinkled her nose in brief annoyance at him before tearing off the ribbon and opening the box.

"Oh!" she cried softly. There in the package gleamed a pair of large emerald earbobs surrounded by smaller diamonds—they were almost as gaudy as her engagement ring and twice as beautiful.

"Oh! The darling things! They are so lovely!" Scarlett turned excitedly to the vanity mirror and placed them in her ears. The earbobs offset her pale green eyes handsomely, darkening them to an enticing hue of jade. She knew she looked pretty and she whirled around to seek his confirmation.

"How do I look?" she asked, giving her head a jaunty toss so the earbobs danced.

"Enchanting, my pet."

She smiled at the compliment and in her elation closed the distance between them and flung her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Rhett! You are so good to me!" she said happily. And her smile was so adoring, so utterly adoring and so utterly joyful, that for a moment his breath stopped and he could almost believe that she loved him. In an instant he moved his head closer to hers and his lips urgently parted her mouth, as his arms encircled her waist…

Rhett frowned. There had been a time when memories like this one had both sustained and disgusted him. Now he felt only an odd detachment. The man in his memories seemed a stranger to him. Since those early heady days of his marriage, he had travelled down a road so twisted with self-recrimination and grief that he could scarcely recall the man he had once been. There was nothing left of that man now. Of that he was certain. Entirely certain. He did not care and that was freeing. He was free—free from his memories, free from the shackles of thwarted love, free to go anywhere and do anything.

He was free. And yet here he was in Atlanta. On Christmas Eve. It made no goddamn sense.

~~o~~

Scarlett knelt nervously on the wooden pew and glared at Wade and Ella who fidgeted and squirmed next to her. Their childish fiddling grated on her already overwrought nerves and she suppressed with difficulty her desire to pinch them until they sat still. Instead, she tried to bow her head reverently, but she could not keep her eyes from searching the church with desperate but fading hope.

The Church of the Immaculate Conception was serenely beautiful this Christmas Eve, beautiful with the warm benevolent spirit which seems to envelope all congregations during the Christmas season. A feast of riotous red poinsettia and cheerful holly sprigs adorned the marble altar and beneath the sedate statues of the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph on the side walls glowed neat rows of candles, their twinkling light catching the stained glass windows until the red and blue and green panes gleamed with a peaceful radiance. But Scarlett's heart was not peaceful.

She had been so sure Rhett would come home for Christmas—so completely sure! How could he promise to come back to keep gossip down and then not come home for Christmas, that most conspicuous of holidays, especially in a town as gossipy as Atlanta? But now as the low plaintive church bells rang to sound ten minutes to the start of mass, she felt with growing mortification that she had been wrong, horribly, humiliatingly wrong.

Oh, how could this be happening? She had been so sure! She had spent the earlier part of day keeping busy at the store, straining with hope every time the door had jangled to announce a customer, before finally closing up at noon and sending off the storehands for the holiday. When Rhett hadn't come to the store she comforted herself that, of course, he would show up for dinner. And then when dinner came and went, a silent sulky meal despite her efforts to rouse Wade and Ella's spirits, she was certain that he would come before they departed for Christmas Eve mass. Of course, Rhett had to come in time for Christmas Eve mass, if he meant to keep gossip down.

After all, what would be the point if he came to Atlanta but no one saw them together? And what better place could there be to be seen together than in church on Christmas Eve—a church that was sure to be brimming with people? It would be the ideal venue to quash the vicious rumors (nearly all true, Scarlett thought forlornly) that had swirled about the Butler marriage since that awful day months ago when Scarlett stood alone—glaringly, suspiciously alone—at Melanie Wilkes' funeral.

So Scarlett had been certain that Rhett would come. He had to come, he knew to come! Every year since they had married, at Scarlett's insistence and to Rhett's amusement, they had attended the seven o'clock mass on Christmas Eve at the Church of the Immaculate Conception. Although Scarlett had long abandoned most of her religious upbringing at the hands of Ellen, she could not—nor did she particularly care to—give up attending mass on Christmas Eve. Not going to mass on Christmas Eve was simply too blasphemous a thought for her to entertain and, besides, she couldn't have people thinking she was a perfect heathen. So each year she had dutifully brought the family to church. Rhett had mocked her for it, of course. "My pet," he had said, "You realize this seasonal piety of yours does nothing to convince people of your religious fervor, especially since you don't set foot in church again until Easter Sunday." But she had rolled her eyes and persisted in the holiday ritual.

And now she was here and Rhett was nowhere to be seen. What a stupid, naïve, little fool she had been. Somehow she had believed that he would be true to his word and come to keep gossip down. Somehow she had hoped against hope that when he had not shown up at the house, it had meant that he would be here to meet her at mass instead. She had even gotten to church early and strategically chosen a pew in the middle third of the church—a pew that was not too prominent, but certainly prominent enough for people to spot them together—and positioned herself on the aisle seat so Rhett could easily find her.

And she had taken such care to select her outfit too! She had chosen an evergreen watered-silk dress festooned with frothy Chantilly lace, demure in neckline and long in sleeve so as to be appropriate for church. Although modest by her standards, the dress nonetheless whittled her waist to nothingness and set off the vibrant color of her eyes, as did her emerald earbobs which clung delicately to her ears. She had made a great effort to look her loveliest, but now that effort galled her, stood as proof of her folly. Oh, to think how she had yearned to look pretty for Rhett—when he never had any intention of coming!

The church bells sounded five minutes to the start of mass and Scarlett fought to keep hot miserable tears from streaming down her cheek. How could Rhett do this to her? She thought of the long days that had crept by interminably since his abandonment, the long days during which she had comforted herself with the knowledge that he had promised to come back to keep gossip down and, surely, surely, that meant that he would be home for Christmas. But, oh, he hadn't meant it! He hadn't meant it at all! And now she was here alone in this crowded church on Christmas Eve and everyone would stare and cast judgment on her!

Suddenly she was thankful that were so few Catholics among the Old Guard of Atlanta. It would be infinitely much worse if she were in the pews at either St. John's Episcopal or First Baptist tonight. Maybe there was still time! Maybe no one had seen her yet! Hurriedly, she looked across the pews to see if she could spot any of the people who would be sure to talk about her—the Bonnells, the Sullivans, the McLures, the—

The Picards! she realized with horror as her eyes fell on Maybelle Picard, who was seated with her little ape husband Rene and their brat Raoul across the aisle from her. Scarlett quickly averted her gaze, but it was too late. Looking in her direction, Maybelle raised a knowing eyebrow and gave a small vicious smirk.

"Oh, damn Maybelle! Of all the people to see me, it had to be Maybelle Picard!" thought Scarlett vehemently. "Now she'll tell that old cat mother of hers that Rhett's really left me, and old lady Merriwether will have spread it all around town by New Year's Day!"

She turned away from Maybelle and lifted her chin with as much dignity as she could muster, trying to stem the treacherous tears welling up in her eyes. This was too much to bear. It would have been better not to have come to church at all, it would have been better to have gone to Tara for Christmas, it would have been better to have gone anywhere else in the world—anything than face this stinging shame!

She heard a rustling noise down the aisle behind her and she knew her time was up, for it must be Father Duggan starting the processional into the church.

Then a warm masculine hand touched the small of her back and Rhett was beside her. "I'm sorry to be late," he said lightly as he took the seat next to her.

"Thank you," she breathed and looked up at him in pure gratefulness.

Rhett looked down and took in Scarlett for the first time in months. Her dark hair was gathered in a low chignon that contrasted arrestingly with her white soft face, bringing out the dramatic swoops of her sooty eyebrows and making her skin glow like pure cream. The dark pine of her dress and her emerald earbobs deepened her eyes until they burned like twin raw jewels. For an instant, an old warm tide of feeling rose in him, but it died as quickly as it came and he thought he must have imagined it.

Scarlett had now turned her attention away from him, and following her gaze, he saw her shoot a haughty look of triumph at Maybelle Picard, who was watching the Butlers like a hawk.

In spite of himself his lips twisted into a slight smirk. Then, realizing the source of his faint amusement, Rhett frowned. It appeared that Christmas in Atlanta would be more challenging than he had anticipated.