This is my first fan-fiction. Eek.

(And I don't own any of the characters from Gone with the Wind.)

Rhett sat in the parlor with a cigar and a glass of brandy to end the day with. After a weekend of business travel, he wanted nothing more than to rest. Lately, all he had done was business transactions and investment deals, anything to take his mind off of Scarlett. Since he left her twenty years ago, he never thought about her as much as he did nowadays. He wondered what she looked like, how she acted, if she had loved anyone else, what she was doing, and so many more questions plagued his mind. He refilled his glass of brandy and drank to the image of the young beautiful girl he had once been married to. With a few more glasses, he drank and reminisced himself to sleep.

"Rhett, what on Earth are you doing here?" called a voice. As Rhett stirred and looked up, he found his sister, Rosemary, with a puzzled expression on her face. He took in the rest of the scene. It was midmorning and storming outside. He turned back to his sister and sighed, "Oh."

"I assume you drank yourself to sleep again," she said disappointedly, "you really must stop that. You are too old for such doings."

"Now, don't worry about me." he told her, not wanting a reprimand from his younger sister, Rhett stood up and made his way to his bedroom where he freshened up and changed his clothes. He moved swiftly in his old age. At first glance, one might see a very handsome young fellow. But the truth was that Rhett was near sixty years old. Almost all of his jet black hair was graying. His mustache matched his gray head. His once sleek, tan skin was wrinkled especially around his dark eyes. Though, his eyes remained lively, despite the increasing lethargy of his body.

Rhett joined the breakfast table with his sister. Eleanor Butler died about five years ago. Rosemary had never found a suitor. She had let herself become an old maid, practically. She didn't care to look fancy or attractive. Her youth had passed her by, so she thought. And since Rhett had never found anyone else after Scarlett, it was just the two of them. Of course, he walked a few ladies about town, but he did not have the same feelings for them as he did for Scarlett so many years ago, therefore resolved to be alone. He always pondered his decision to leave her. Had he made the right choice? Did it just cause his passion and desire for her to grow with intensity? He thought it had.

"You were thinking of her again last night." said Rosemary, breaking off Rhett's trailing thoughts. After Rhett had said nothing, Rosemary spoke again, "Really, Rhett, you must--"

"Let me be." Rhett cut in, rudely.

Rosemary, quite taken aback by his hostility said, "If you wish for me not to interfere with your matters, do not discuss them with me in the first place!"

Not wanting to listen to her anymore Rhett, got up, gave his old sarcastic smile and an overly proper bow, and then left the room without touching the plate before him. He decided to attend to his business affairs once again. Filling his mind with every possible thing that was unrelated to Scarlett hardly cleared his mind. It still wandered to her over and over again, until Rosemary interrupted him.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Um, Rhett, there's— a telegram came for you."

Sensing a little fright in her voice, he looked up curiously, and asked, "Who's it from?" She gave no answer, just looked down and thrust the telegram towards him. He shot up from his seat and grabbed the paper. His old eyes darted across the page and his jaw dropped.

The telegram read:

MR BUTLER STOP SCARLETT ILL STOP PLEASE COME STOP WADE HAMILTON STOP

He read it over several times. He looked up, bewildered. "I—I must go," he sputtered. Rosemary talked incoherently, listing reasons why he must not leave. He ignored her completely and went to his room, grabbed a few things and neatly packed them away into a suitcase. He was solemn and quiet. A formal good-bye was not made. Rosemary was frantic and Rhett was near petrified. He made his way to the train station by carriage, bought a ticket to Atlanta, and left Charleston.

The train ride was excruciating. It seemed as if it were the slowest train he had ever been on. "Scarlett is dying," he thought. He feared what would happen. He feared getting there too late. He feared how she would act. He was never so full of fear before. He had grown old, being gallant and fearless, but now he felt weak.

When the train arrived in Atlanta, Rhett hired a carriage to take him to Scarlett's home. She had moved out of the house on Peachtree Street long ago. The house was sold a few years ago after being abandoned for sometime. Scarlett's current home was nothing too grotesque as the hideous mansion on Peachtree Street was. On the Auburn block there were many row houses. Scarlett owned one of the larger ones on the corner. It had a quaint little yard and lovely accents. Here he was. After so many years, here he was.

Rhett grabbed the brass knocker and knocked on the door three times.

(To be continued...)

Leave some reviews. Tell me how you like it. Thanks.

(Some things will probably be clearer in the coming chapters. I will fill you in on everything that happened since Rhett left Scarlett…all in good time.)