"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." The words still reverberated in his ears even though he had uttered them over three months ago. He had closed the door and sauntered off into the fog that fateful morning, feeling freer than he had felt in years; happy even. After all, a huge burden had been lifted off of his shoulders. All of the guilt and shame and yes, longing, of his torturous marriage to Scarlett was gone. He had every reason to be happy, to return to his boyhood home and find something of what he had so carelessly thrown aside in his youth. And so he had returned to Charleston, free to spend time with his family now that his father was no longer there to cast his shadow.
Rhett Butler sat alone in his room in his mother's house in Charleston contemplating his freedom. He sat in an overstuffed leather chair that he had confiscated from his father's study and with a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other, Rhett reflected on his life. From the day he had told his father what he thought of him, Rhett had been a scoundrel and proud of it. Looking out the window across the water, he nodded in appreciation as he recalled just how scandalous his actions had been and yet, somehow he had managed to work his way back into society until he had been received in the best homes in Atlanta. Not bad Rhett, ole boy, he mused.
He grew sad as he remembered the reason he had worked so hard to that end, Bonnie. She had been the only force on Earth that could make him want the acceptance of the Old Guard. But she was gone and so was his desire for their acceptance. Her tiny little body had housed all the hopes and dreams of his lifetime. And it was all taken from him in that horrible riding accident; even his wishes and desires concerning his baby's mother were taken from him on that day because up until then, he had held out hope.
It is a terrible thing to live without hope, he reflected. One day turns into another….and then another; none of the days have purpose. And that was where Rhett Butler resided now; in a world of his making, albeit with the help of Scarlett; a world with no purpose and no hope…no passion….nothing. And as he sat, looking out the window, a thought struck him. How odd is this feeling, to be so utterly disheartened…to be so completely uncaring.
He sighed heavily, emptied the last drops from his glass, threw his cigar in the fireplace and stood. Looking around his room, he located his coat, slipped it over his shirt and headed out. Night was falling and that meant Charleston, his Charleston, was just coming alive.
As he made his way across the city, he remembered his homecoming. His mother had been the only member of his family that was truly glad to see him. His sister and brother were suspicious, afraid of losing a portion of their father's estate if the black sheep were to be welcomed back into the fold. Rhett chuckled at the notion; he had lost more at the poker tables than his father's estate would amount to. He had no need for his father's money.
Soon he was at the door of what was becoming his favorite whorehouse. The Madame of this house, Dixie, wasn't as gifted as Belle Whatling in business or managing the girls, but the services were adequate, the liquor good, and the poker games invigorating. He had sampled all but one of the girls. They were pleasing enough, keeping his urges at bay, although he was finding that in his present state of mind he preferred the cards to the girls anyway. But the last one, Celeste, was working at getting his attention on this night. He supposed she felt slighted, since he had passed her over time and again in favor of one of the others. As he watched her move around the room, he knew he would forego her pleasures tonight, as well. She simply reminded him too much of Scarlett. Her flawless white skin, dark hair, green eyes and petulant mouth elicited too many memories that he wished to keep buried. Celeste however, seemed to have a different opinion on how the night would play out and moved in closer and closer until he was finding it very difficult to ignore her. Consequently, he drank more and more until finally he had enough and stood shakily to leave.
Slowly he moved towards the door until he lost his balance and fell…into Celeste's waiting arms. His mind was fuzzy, the effects of the alcohol kicking in and as he looked into her confident green eyes he thought he saw his wife. "Scarlett…what the hell are you doing here? Don't you know what kind of place this is?"
"Yes Rhett, I do. Let's get you to bed…"
"To bed, yes. Your bed waits for me, my pet? This is indeed an occasion for celebration. Let's get some more whisky."
"I think you've had enough for awhile, Rhett. Let's rest first and then…"
"Rest?" Rhett chuckled. "Yes, I suppose your bed provides rest, although not in the usual sense."
They made it to her room, where Celeste let him fall into her bed. As she began to undress, she heard the subtle sounds of sleep, complete with a soft snore. Tired of the activity in the parlor, she scooted into bed next to him, hoping for sleep.
The cause was never found for the fire at Dixie's that night, but it started in one of the rooms down the hall from where Rhett slept with Celeste. She woke up first and upon hearing the commotion in the hall and seeing the smoke creep in under the door, screamed. It was her screams that woke Rhett. Smelling the smoke, understanding fought through the hazy fog of his mind and he headed for the door. When he touched it, the heat stung his hand and he realized that that was not an escape route. Turning, he spied the window and ran to it, looking out for a safe landing. Celeste continued to scream and then headed for the door. Realizing that if she opened it they would be doomed, he ran after her, grabbing her around the waist. He carried her to the window, opened it, and put her outside. She clung to him, kicking and screaming as he lowered her as far as he could and let go. Rhett watched as she fell to the ground below and crawled away.
Rhett glanced back at the door as the flames broke through and then looked back out of the window. Throwing his leg over the sill, he prepared to jump to safety. It was then that the ceiling collapsed, burning timbers falling across his body as they knocked him out onto the ground below. Bystanders rushed to push away the still burning debris that covered the quiet, still body of Rhett Butler. Once the flames that covered him were doused, his rescuers back away in horror at the sight of the charred man.