Disclaimer: I don't own Gone With the Wind, sadly. I'm just a novel junkie with a lot of free time.

Hello, all! This is my first time writing a GWTW piece, and I just wanted to say hi, and that everyone's stories are great! All of your ideas are just brilliant (and I just can't have enough Scarlett/Rhett, you know!).

On this story: It's an AU (alternate universe) encounter, meaning that it never happened, but it's fitted into real events that took place in GWTW. Takes place after Ella's birth, if anyone's confused. .And yes, it is a one-shot.

Oh, and of course, feedback would be truly, truly appreciated.

Thanks and cheers,

-Marilolo

- - -

Scarlett had never seen the sky rain so furiously. Its gray-streaked cheeks were billowing and lolling, thundering and roaring like a thousand Spartan warriors, crying raindrops that splattered along the streets and on the head of every passerby. Knees brought up to her chest, hands clasped, her dark hair spilled in waves as she tilted her head to the side, Scarlett stared blankly into the raging ambiance of a certain storm. She heard her newborn baby, Ella, sobbing for its mother in the next room, but Scarlett stayed quite still, listening as the shrieks turned louder and more desperate with each passing minute. She felt her blood begin to boil and her head pound as she heard the signs of life that she had been unwilling to create. God, what a horrid waste of nine months. A woman's life was too short, and - in Scarlett's case - too valuable to waste even a second on such stupid, silly things as pregnancy and child-birthing. She was still unsure how it had all come about, anyway, whenever she woke up in the middle of the night and thought to herself, "God's Nightgown, I married Frank Kennedy."

As these unpleasant memories stirred in her mind, Scarlett heard the sound of a carriage approaching the house and quickly averted her eyes from the window, drawing behind the shutter to keep out of sight. If Frank was coming home early from his meeting, she did not want to be seen awake at this hour, with her baby sobbing in the next room, and her eyes tired and weary. She held her breath as a sharp knock reverberated inside the small house, and waited in silence before it was heard again. A visitor, at this hour? Scarlett rubbed her shoulders. She was alone in the house – Frank, of course, was gone, and Mammy was at Melanie's, on invitation to take care of Beau for the night. He was unwell, a minor fever at the most, but Melanie, with an almost upsetting amount of concern that Scarlett did not even attempt to understand, had requested Mammy's presence there at least until tomorrow.

A third knock and Scarlett hoisted her rounded, recovering body from its sitting position and made her way down the staircase, draping a shawl around her shoulders. Her bare feet plodded on the wooden floor, muffled by the sound of heavy rain.

How dreadful and dowdy she must look! She pinched her cheeks and rubbed her eyes, but she knew it would be no use. The effects of sleepless nights and hard hours in labor were completely prominent, to her dismay, but she supposed she could not expect anything better. And her visitor! Scarlett was only heartened by that fact that he or she would surely understand, considering that they took the liberty to call at such a late hour, when most proper citizens were bound to be deep in slumber.

At the fourth knock, Scarlett swore under her breath. Composing herself, she smoothed her bush of unruly hair and opened the door. She took one look at her visitor, turned red, and desperately tried to cover herself with her shawl.

"Rhett!" she hissed angrily.

Rhett's eyes swept across her body before he met her gaze. His smirk was evident as he drawled, "You needn't show modesty with me, my dear," and swept off his hat, entering the house. Scarlett crossed her arms and moved back a step. "My God, what have you done with this place? It's barely a shack."

Scarlett huffed and shot defensively, "What are you doing here? At this hour?"

He raised his eyebrows at her flushed cheeks and smiled. "I assure you, if you are still embarrassed about being in that nightgown (and is that actually warm? It's quite scanty), I have seen many women with and without their shimmies, and am not at all surprised by your ... anatomy." His white teeth flashed in a provocative smile as Scarlett glared at him in embarrassment and rage.

"You – you – vile, disgusting cad! How dare you!"

Rhett laughed loudly and Scarlett almost looked out the window, as if afraid of seeing her neighbors with their faces pressed against the glass. "Come now, my embittered child, is that a way to treat your guests?"

Scarlett set her mouth, her bosom heaving, her green eyes flashing. "If you came here to harass me, Rhett, I don't want to hear it. State your business and leave."

"I heard that your child was born recently," he said obligingly, sporting an unreadable expression. "I wanted to pay you a visit."

Scarlett struggled between smiling at this and trying to find another way to insult him. Smiling won out, reluctantly, and she turned away to hide her expression.

"Yes, yes, she was. Barely a few days ago."

"You must be exhausted," he stated empathetically; then, as if checking himself, continued coolly; "but I suppose all mothers are. It's a woman's life ambition - to give birth and create life. It's an instinct that drives some girls mad for husbands."

Scarlett harrumphed, her ill mood returning at his words. "Fiddle-dee-dee! I've never wanted a child in my life!"

Rhett laughed at this, his black eyes amused. "And yet, you manage to produce them all the same. You delight me, Scarlett, naivety and bluntness included. And, if I were to give you some advice it would be this: you need a husband you love. The children will just ... come naturally. But I suppose you are too young to understand." He stared at her for a moment, scrutinizing her, and said suddenly, with a burst of almost self-reproaching laughter, "Ha! But when have you ever listened to me? Forgive me, Scarlett, for believing you cleverer than you actually are."

Deeply offended and mortified, she snapped, "What do you know about love, Rhett Butler? If you hadn't already noticed, I happen to love Frank –"

"Oh, damn Frank!" said Rhett harshly, unexpectedly; for a moment, Scarlett's heart fluttered as his strong hands took her shoulders as if to shake her. "You love him no more than you would love a mule. It was his store and business you wanted, and now that it's your money that's paying the taxes, you wouldn't care if he dropped dead on the sidewalk, just as long as he put you in his will."

Scarlett could not avoid the truth in his words, but said, all the same, "What do you take me for, Rhett? I would be heartbroken if he died –"

"No," Rhett interrupted bitterly, "no, Scarlett, you would be heartbroken that you couldn't wear fashionable clothes and prance around like a spoiled child." He sneered at her. "Oh well, cheer up, there would always be Ashley to run to."

Scarlett was so angry she could hardly open her mouth. She jerked herself out of his iron-like grasp and shook with fury. "I'm not going to listen to you. You're absolutely hateful."

"Am I?" Rhett asked. "I must control my behavior. It would be a pity to make myself appear disagreeable."

Scarlett studied him in some amazement. "Are you ever serious?"

Rhett's face was drawn into a truly vexing grin at her question. "Come now, my dear, surely you don't believe I am all bad." As she shook her head, he raised his eyebrows. "Haven't I told you not to look at me with that demure expression? I know what you are thinking. If you think I am awful, say it. 'Go to Hell, Rhett Butler' is also another one of my personal favorites, but you may pick and choose. It's hard to go wrong when you are in a rage, of course – but I can't always have the privilege of seeing you properly incensed, now can I?"

His gleaming eyes were deeply amused, and Scarlett laughed despite herself. "You are too much."

"Well, well. So it may seem." He moved past her and said, "And now, my darling, I have you somewhat settled. Is this scandalous man allowed to see your little girl?"

Scarlett was about to reply that no, Ella was sleeping and it would take God himself to put her back to sleep; but at his sincere expression she gulped down her words. "I suppose."

As she showed Rhett to Ella's room, Scarlett's heart was pounding. Why, exactly, such a nervous feeling came over her, she couldn't tell. It was, perhaps, something in the way he kept looking at her, as if – as if ... Scarlett blushed as the thought crossed her mind ... as if he had wanted to father her children himself. But no, it was impossible. Why would he, of all people, want children? And especially hers, after she had so blatantly stated how much she despised them? He had said he wanted her, all that time ago, but Scarlett had thought of it as lust and lust alone, for when she mentioned love he threw up his head and laughed. It was all very confusing.

Scarlett soon shook herself out of this reverie and laughed to imagine Mrs. Merriweather's face if she saw her now, alone in the house with Rhett, in her nightgown, leading him into a bedroom without even the slightest scruple. It was Ella's bedroom, of course, but it would still be considered blasphemy in the eyes of most; and the very thought was so stupid and so odd that Scarlett could hardly contain her giggles.

Rhett was leaning over the crib in the middle of the darkened room, smiling down at Ella, who was fast asleep, her little hand curled over the ear of a small stuffed animal. Her breathing was deep, and there was no sign of her crying fit earlier, except for the tearstains and a reddish face that was softly fading back to pink. Even if for a moment, Scarlett felt a surge of maternal pride; and, catching Rhett's eye she smiled as if to boast, though she did not know why. His face was hidden in the shadows, but it seemed softer, gentler somehow, as if this small child had soothed him into a serene state of consciousness.

There was something about a man fawning over a child that had always been incredibly appealing to Scarlett, however silly it seemed, and the scene with Rhett and Ella was no exception. She no longer felt angry or irritated with him.

The silence was broken by Rhett's voice saying slowly, "Frank must be very happy."

Scarlett bristled at this, but sensing no hostility or hidden meanings, she breathed feely.

"I wouldn't know. He's always at some meeting or another. I hardly see him."

That was more like what I would say, Scarlett thought. She was feeling things that she didn't understand, strange things, and instead of succumbing to them she resorted back to clipped remarks. But, for the first time in her life, perhaps, she actually felt sorry for doing it.

Rhett looked at her. His voice had lost its teasing note and instead sounded melancholy. "Indeed."

Scarlett was not prepared for this short answer, expecting something about how she wouldn't care anyway if Frank was gone or not, that she probably was happier without it – and, upon not receiving any criticism or moral chastisement for her answer, lapsed into a silence tinged with uncertainty. She wanted to say something witty, but her tongue felt like it was tied with chicken-wire.

Moving away from Ella's crib, Rhett sauntered to a wall and leaned against it, watching her. She was glad it was dark in the room, because her cheeks were surely glowing, and she did not feel like being teased at the moment.

"You know, my dear," said Rhett, and the old note in his voice was back, "we would have the most charming children."

Scarlett stared in disbelief at his broad silhouette. "Excuse me?"

He laughed at her. "It is simple math, really. We both have handsome genes. You especially, but you know that already ... ah, Scarlett, just imagine! Green eyes, a dark complexion, thick black hair. Hopefully a girl - I can't stand boys, they're natural hooligans. She would rather wonderful little dimples when she smiled, rich as the Queen of England. Who knows about the parents, but still - a born princess, wouldn't you say?"

She could not tell if he was serious or not, and quickly covered up her awkwardness with a laugh. "I'm sure she would be very pretty, but if you're planning to seduce me, Rhett, it will never work."

Scarlett meant this comment to be nonchalant, as if in passing, but she found his expression unchanged and again unreadable. After a moment, where he seemed to be deep in thought, he smiled slowly and looked penetratingly at her from under his raised brows.

"Again, you frankness is appreciated. Don't fret! I never had the thought of seducing you, my dear, although you have planted the thought pleasantly in my mind –" He paused at her aghast expression and continued, "Rest assured, my darling! It was never my intention. I told you I came to see the baby, and that is what I'm doing."

Scarlett frowned at him, slightly hurt. "You told me that you came to see me –"

"Did I now?" asked Rhett carelessly.

"Well, yes. You heard that I had Ella and you came to see me ..."

Rhett considered this. "Perhaps you're right, but unfortunately for you, that doesn't change my intention." He looked again at the sleeping child, as Scarlett pondered his meaning. "Ella, is it?"

"Yes, named after her grandmother."

Scarlett would offer nothing else, and, turning away from Rhett's gaze, she was suddenly overcome with a terrible pang of sadness that could not be ignored. Her mood was suddenly ominous and she said quietly, to the point, "Well, now that you've seen her, Rhett, it might be best if you left. Frank will be home soon."

His mouth visibly tightened at her words, and Scarlett immediately got the impression that he was trying not to yell out, "Oh, damn Frank!" again at the top of his voice. If he had been any other man, Scarlett would have dimpled and giggled and declared him jealous; but with Rhett – Scarlett didn't know what to make of his thoughts. They were twisted, most certainly, and oh, how he confused her with his double meanings! She was not sure what he meant to say half the time – if what he was saying was compliment or insult, something to be taken lightly or seriously, or if it meant anything at all.

There was a strange shift in the atmosphere of the little room as her thoughts trailed off into oblivion. The rigid unease that Scarlett had brought forth by mentioning Frank's name was gone. All she felt now was an indescribable feeling of nostalgia; she wiped her eyes discreetly and tried to think of something besides Ellen.

"I'm pleasantly surprised, Scarlett," said Rhett's voice from somewhere behind her. He was so close that she could feel the heat from his body, his warm breath on the back of her neck. "I had thought you were a heartless creature, incapable of feeling. In this case, I'm glad to be wrong. It's interesting how much a man is willing to give up – dignity, of course, being vastly important ... money, definitely ... perhaps I could even say his own morals. Women complain of being so often used by men, and I am always up for a good feminine argument, but this one, I'm sorry to say, makes me laugh. Men would crawl on their hands and knees for just one kiss from the girl they loved, abandon their family, break the law. Ha! For women to complain of being used – I say we men are manipulated to do their bidding."

Scarlett could not see the relevance and she said so.

Rhett laughed softly and she felt his hand, unbidden, rake through her dark hair, touching her scalp with his fingertips. The sensation made her shiver. "You are such a child. You have never loved a man, not really, not with such love and lust it hurts just to think his name."

Scarlett wanted to cry out in anger: of course I have! I love Ashley! but Rhett seemed to sense this in her, and when he finally spoke, his voice was deep and soothing, a slow drawl laced with honey, and all thoughts of Ashley were swept from her mind.

"Will you ever grow up, my darling? Every step you take is torture to me, as long as I'm dangling here. You must realize this, Scarlett, that even with your childish inclinations, I can't keep my dignity, money, or morals, even if I haven't a chance of succeeding with you."

Scarlett stiffened at his words.

"So you have read my cryptic message," he said, laughing quietly. "I understand your concern, faithful little wife that you are."

His voice was barely a whisper, and at his last words, Scarlett felt his lips brush against the side of her neck. She suppressed a moan and heard him laugh again. God, would he stop torturing her? Scarlett wanted to jerk herself out of his reach, but was stuck fast.

"You adore attention, don't you, my pet?" he hissed. "I told you that you torture me and it's true. Why don't you run? I will accept a straightforward no; but you ... you just stand there. Where am I to go? What am I to do? That frankness that I admire in you has simply vanished." He stepped closer to her; she could feel him trembling, his breath hot on the back of her neck.

She closed her eyes.

"Turn around, Scarlett."

She was suddenly looking into his dark, handsome face; his black eyes were watching her intently, trying but failing to mask the lust that was hidden there. But beyond that there was something else she couldn't recognize, and Scarlett shivered, afraid that if she tried too hard, she might figure out its meaning. There was always something oddly comforting about ignorance.

"In some ways I am glad you are graced with callowness," Rhett said at last, leaning his head very close to hers. "I can teach you so many things."

Without warning, Rhett had all but swooped down upon her and brought her to him, claiming her lips with his own, laughing against her mouth as she weakened in his arms. Her helplessness in this situation enraged her and she kissed him back forcefully, marveling at the sweetness of him; the feel of his moustache against her upper lip; and oh! How his hands burned against her bare skin! Scarlett barely caught her breath before he was planting kisses over her entire face; from her forehead to her cheeks and the corners of her upturned mouth, along her collarbone and in the indenture behind her ear. It seemed so wrong, so incredibly wrong, but Scarlett was unable to stop, even if she had wanted to try.

As suddenly as it had started, Rhett drew back and Scarlett opened her eyes; she felt so cold, so empty, and she tried to draw him back to her with pleading eyes, but he only laughed.

"You're awful," she said breathlessly.

"As are you, my dear." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Sadly, I cannot continue our fun - I have to take my leave –"

Scarlett asked him "why?" before she realized what she had said, and blushed crimson; but Rhett looked quite serious as he said, "Surely, my darling, you hear your husband's carriage?" and swept swiftly out of the room.