Authors Note

Hey Everybody, thanks so much to those who responded, I got a lot of people asking me to write longer chapters and informing me that I had misspelled Scarlett's name (OOPS!) so I did a little proof reading and wrote a little bit more. Update coming soon! Thanks everybody!

What had been going through his head when he agreed to return home often enough to dispel rumors? With Scarlett's reputation that would mean once month at the least. What could he expect when he got home? Would she try to smother him with affection again? Would she beg for him? Would she ignore him? That would probably be best. Would she fight with him? He was beginning to regret coming and to tell the driver to turn around but sadly realized they had already pulled into the driveway.

"Well, thank you," He said quickly, dropping a generous amount of coins into the shabby black man's hands. He had intentionally not written to Scarlett to send the carriage as he knew she would probably insist on meeting him there herself, and his plan was to avoid her as much as possible.

As he stepped towards the disgustingly extravagant front porch he heard glass shattering and a quick yelp. Worried Scarlet had fallen and hurt herself in her attempt to reach the door quickly he jumped up the last four steps and ran through the half open door. "Scarlett?" He yelled.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," a quiet voice answered from the next room.

Rhett breathed a sigh of relief, as much as he hated her he couldn't stand the idea of her being hurt. Ever since he had cause the horrible accident when she had fallen down their front hall staircase and lost the already unwanted baby. "Scarlett," he said as he stepped into the dining room, then stopped short, "Good God, Scarlett! What have you done to yourself!" The woman who stood before him was no longer his rosy cheeked, joyful, bright eyed wife. The woman who stood before him had a pale, sunken face and eyes that no longer contained the spark of life but were dull and tired looking. The woman's body was so thin you would think she had never had a decent meal. The woman wore nothing but an old and stained night gown. Here hair looked as if it had not been washed in weeks and was in a complete disarray around her face. Her hands and arms were covered in blood from the cuts from decanter she had just dropped on the floor.

"Why Rhett," she said, trying to stand up, "you know better than anyone how much women hate to be told they don't look good."

"Scarlett, have you been eating? Have the lawyers not been paying you enough? Why aren't the servants doing anything?"

"Rhett," Scarlett said slowly, "I don't feel very well." Turning around from where he had been glaring at the servant he saw she was leaning heavily on the dining room chair. "Rhett, I think I may," before she could finish she collapsed.

"Scarlett!" Rhett lunged to catch her before she hit the floor. Without turning to look at them, he screamed at the servant to go and get a doctor.

"Ain' no docta who's gonna come 'ere Mist' Butler," Prissy said slowly.

"Well go and find one!" He shouted at her, not even processing the words she had just said. Scarlet's breathes sounded raspy and labored. Her face had lost the little color left in it. Carefully he picked Scarlett's light body up and carried her up to her room. She had lost so much weight since the last time he had seen her. It was as effortless as carrying a little girl.

As Rhett stepped into the bedroom he nearly tripped over a decanter lying empty on the floor. Looking around him there were at least five of them lying on the ground. Glasses with a little bit of Barbary or Scotch lay scattered in Scarlett's bed and on her dresser. Had Scarlett drunken all of this since he had left a month ago? No wonder she was so sick. Putting her carefully on the bed anger boiled up inside him, why had the servants let her drink so much? Had they even made any attempt to water it down or take it away from her? Quickly running down the stairs to find Pork he nearly ran into .

"Good day, Captain Butler." The doctor said grimly.

"Scarlett's up in her room," Rhett said as he passed him.

After searching the house for several minutes he found Pork hiding in a broom cabinet.

"Oh, Lawdy," Pork cried, "I knews you was gonna be mad at me. But Mist' Rhett, you gots to understand, we all tried to stop 'er but she wouldn' listen to us."

"Well why didn't you write me? Or do something? Do you see what it's done to her?" He yelled.

"I's sorry Mist' Rhett, we din know what to do 'bout it, we didn' want ti ruin your rep'tation or anythin'!"

Rhett laughed quietly, they had no reputation to be lost. Hurrying back up to the bedroom he met Dr. Meade coming down the hallway with a worried look on his face. "Rhett, is your wife aware that it is completely disgraceful for a women, a mother, to drink? Was she aware of the affects it would have on her? Are you aware that she probably hasn't eaten anything in over three weeks?"

Rhett was surprised at the how ashamed he felt, maybe if he had come to check on her sooner this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if he had broken her habit of drinking instead of encouraging it she wouldn't be so sick now. "Is she okay?" He asked quietly.

"Okay? The woman is all skin and bones, she lacks the nutrition she needs to survive. Not to mention the damage the alcohol has done to her throat and stomach. And if that is bad enough, Captain Butler, she's got typhoid and is too weak to fight it off. If you don't do something fast and get her healthy again I don't see anyway she's going to live past this month." The doctor practically yelled at him.

"Thank you." Was all he could answer.