Say No to This
A/N: It's the (very very loosely) Hamilton-inspired GWTW fanfic you never knew you needed!
So, I've had it in my head ever since I read the book that Rhett took Bonnie to Europe, and only realized as I was writing this and talking to other people that he… probably didn't. But according to my research, it is at least feasible, if not practical or likely. Some details may be fudged, but I tried! Thank you for your help, lostrocket.
I didn't start out intending any tonal shifts or writing experimentation, but they happened, and I kept them. Let me know if you think it works.
Subtitle: Rhett so totally isn't thinking of Scarlett, why do you keep asking him, god!
London, May 1871
He is tired.
He thought Bonnie would be interested in the Great Exhibition, or at least he hoped she would be. She had found some of the modern machinery intriguing—cogs and wheels and pistons to enable greater production of a number of items—something he'd never expected a small child to appreciate. Far China's offerings were utterly mesmerizing to her, although it was possible that it was simply the people and their costumes that Bonnie could not stop looking at, rather than their intricate tapestries. Even France had scraped together a decent show. One might never know Paris' citizens had been forced to dine on prize elephants mere months before. Rhett didn't know which human foible amused him more – the French proud pretend that nothing had ever been amiss, or the South's fierce downtrodden gentility.
He found himself telling Bonnie about their Bastille Day parade. "I want to see the horses!" she had cried, and Rhett laughed and placed her on his shoulders while he walked. "One day, my darling, you shall," he promised.
With its focus on the fine arts this year, the Exhibition held Bonnie's attention less than he might have hoped. No tigers, no monkeys. Ah, well.
From there, they had wandered down along nearby streets. "Ooh!" Bonnie had cried, too many times to count. Beautiful ribbons, gamboling puppies, ladies in their finery, jewelry, patisserie windows—everything drew her excited attention, and her easy joy was contagious. At their second pastry shop, when Bonnie had insisted on trying each kind of macaron, Rhett argued half-heartedly that she'd never be able to eat dinner or even supper if she did. In the end, he compromised and purchased one of each, but reasoned that they would take most back to the hotel. When she slipped a small, slightly sticky hand into his to walk out, he remembered the ghost of a different hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, one whose owner likewise delighted over seemingly every frippery and froth her also remarkable eyes landed on. Without thought, he picked Bonnie up and lengthened his steps.
An ocean between them, he worked consciously and subconsciously to excise his wife from his heart. Theirs was no marriage, a fact that he had first learned two years earlier. Some foolish flame of hope had apparently flickered ever since, exploding in anguish that night in April, but… no, it had never been him. He reconcentrated his mind on Bonnie—his darling, bright girl, who loved him so unabashedly. The mother who she bore such a striking resemblance to, he did not think of.
He told himself that he felt lighthearted—more lighthearted than he had in weeks—until Bonnie begged to look at jewelry, tugging at his hand as he made to walk past another store—he had set her down when the sun grew overwarm, Bonnie wriggling to use her legs again. "Daddy, let's go inside!" The concept of payment and gift-giving still murky in her young brain, she pronounced that she would buy, "something pretty for Mama!" Rhett's fingers trembled ever so slightly, unnoticeably, against the little girl's hand.
She had wanted to see nearly every piece in the store, and the clerk—quickly and accurately assessing Rhett's fashion sense, good taste, fondness for his daughter, and above all, deep pockets—had graciously complied.
"Ah, but Mademoiselle, you look like a princess. And a princess must have a tiara." The clerk, a Frenchman apparently, glanced up at Rhett, who gave a quick nod of approval—Bonnie's eyes were wide at the thought of a crown, and Rhett didn't have the heart to dim the exuberance on her face. Pierre hurried to a case in the back of the store—one Bonnie had apparently missed before—and pulled out a dainty thing of scrollwork and swoops. He set it on a velvet pillow that seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and brought it over to the little girl now dancing with excitement.
Bonnie wore the tiara around the store as she pressed her face to the glass front cases. Rhett watched her leave fingerprints on nearly every surface and quickly surmised that any purchases he made would offset the trouble of a child in the store, darling mess that she was. He smiled at the little figure of his daughter, and then flicked a narrowed gaze over to Pierre. The clerk had wisely chosen also to watch Bonnie with fond indulgence, and not a hint of chastisement. He had even found a small stepstool, and was moving it from case to case so she could peek in for a better look. Rhett relaxed imperceptibly. He had not even felt his shoulders tighten, and couldn't place the source of the tension until Bonnie cried, "Mama!" His heart stuttered in his chest, and he felt frost down his spine. He could not turn toward the door.
"Daddy! This one! For Mother!" Bonnie's voice grew more imperious, unused as she was to having to wait for her father to respond to any request she made.
Rhett shook the ghost of said mother off him, and took one long stride to see exactly what held Bonnie's attention.
It was a necklace of pearls and diamonds—almost stunningly simple, with no gems of blue or green to entice either Bonnie or Scarlett. Until now, Bonnie's admiration for jewelry tended toward appreciation of the flashiest, biggest, and most colorful—or in any case, the pieces with the most blue. A taste for the gaudy she shared with her mother, although at least Bonnie had the excuse of being so young.
Something about the necklace twisted in his stomach, set him almost to panicking. "Daddy?" A small hand was tugging at his sleeve. He looked down and smiled at Bonnie's insistent pout, letting her trusting demands and affection soothe the unexpected knife in his gut. "Is this the one, precious?" His voice was light and even. He bent down to crouch next to her, scooping her up onto his thigh. It was just a necklace. And knowing Scarlett, it would not even be ostentatious enough for her to show any interest in it.
He stood, and picked Bonnie up, holding her against his side. Together they wandered through the store again. A small brooch shaped like a butterfly caught his eye. It was too grand for a little girl, really, but it had one small emerald in each wing and a number of tiny amethyst drops, and it seemed like something Ella would like. He continued his perusal, carelessly adding a couple of items with more, larger emeralds to appease Scarlett's vanity.
Bonnie continued to wriggle and dance around the shop with all the boundless energy of a child as Rhett settled the bill with a second clerk and gave him their address at the hotel for the delivery.
The tiara remained perched on her head, and Rhett watched as Pierre walked over to her and crouched down.
Bonnie eyed him dubiously at his approach. "Mademoiselle, tu es vraiment une princesse!" He clasped his hand over his heart theatrically, and Rhett saw some of the mistrust fade from her face before she giggled.
"Princesse!" she chirped, mimicking his accent, trying out the familiar word with the different pronunciation. Bonnie's curls bounced as she nodded her head stoutly.
"Est-ce que tu vas porter ta couronne toute la journée?" Some of the wariness that had faded from Bonnie's face crept back into her expression at this strange man speaking unrecognizable words to her.
"Mais une princesse ne voudrait pas salir sa couronne!"
Bonnie's brow crinkled, and Rhett recalled her grandfather with startling clarity when he'd come to bring Scarlett back to Tara. Once Gerald was quite drunk, and remembered the purpose of his mission to Atlanta, he had started in on Rhett—or, at least, had attempted to. "Now, see here—" before he paused, confused, wondering what it was Rhett was supposed to see here. Bonnie wore the same befuddled expression now, her black eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement.
"Ah, mademoiselle, pardon."
Rhett missed the next bit as the clerk again needed his attention. When he turned back, he observed with some amazement as Bonnie reached up and handed the little tiara back to Pierre. It did catch in a few tangled curls, but he gently worked them free of the item. Rhett had been sure she would be wearing the trinket to sleep that night.
Rhett's reserves of sardonic stoicism had been running low since April, and the simple trip to the jewelry store thoroughly depleted what had remained. He assured himself with the clerk that their packages would arrive at the hotel that afternoon, and took Bonnie's hand once more to leave. As he walked with Bonnie back to the hotel, he thought, not for the first time, that taking her all the way to London had not been among his best ideas. His intent had simply been to put as many miles between himself and his wife as he could, until he conquered his damnable feelings for her, once and for all. And because he could not be away from Bonnie, he had taken her with him. He had not thought of the practical consequences of traveling such a long way with a little girl.
Taking her everywhere with him in Atlanta, he had fooled himself as to the degree that he saw to the constant supervision and care of a child. He could not have parted with her, no, but he had underestimated the extent to which other people cared for her in Atlanta. It was not a soothing thought. Nevertheless, they were here, and there was no point in regretting a rash impulse to put as much distance between himself and Scarlett as he could reasonably achieve. Prissy, at least, was more help than he would have expected before they left. Besides, he thought, looking down at his daughter, Bonnie liked it here.
He imagined bringing her back here when she was older, taking her to Paris and Rome and Florence, too. Perhaps she would take an interest in architecture, or history. He could picture her working with Schliemann to discover Troy.
They stopped in a toy store and he picked out a handsome set of toy soldiers for Wade and new dolls for Ella and Bonnie. She was uncharacteristically quiet in the shop, and he knew from long habit the precursor signs of a tantrum. They were both tired.
"Daddy, where we eating supper?" Bonnie asked as they walked back to the hotel.
Rhett swallowed and worked reflexively to pour the varnish of bland indifference over thoughts of his wife. Then he smiled fondly. Sweet Bonnie. So like another travel companion whose first priority in a place was its culinary offerings.
"Tonight, darling, we will have supper in our rooms like royalty." Bonnie bounced at this news.
"Can I wear my crown?"
"Of course, sweetheart." Bonnie clapped, and Rhett hoped a late delivery of their parcels wouldn't make a liar out of him.
He was in luck, as a uniformed boy brought their purchases to the room shortly after they themselves had arrived. Bonnie had immediately requested her tiara, and Rhett unearthed it from the small mound of jewelry boxes. Tension thrilled through him again as he opened the box containing the necklace Bonnie had chosen. He closed the box with a snap and set it aside.
"Daddy?" Rhett closed his hand around the box with the tiara and walked over to where Bonnie was standing on his large bed.
Standing before her, he set the extravagant trinket on her curls with steady hands. Then he grabbed her off the furniture and tickled her stomach. She shrieked and laughed, "Daddy!" Her tight hold around his neck was uncomfortable yet soothing, even when she kicked him in helpless reflex. He wrapped the formerly tickling arm around her and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "I love you, princess."
She leaned out of his hold to look at him. "Love you too, Daddy," and kissed his cheek with a loud smacking sound.
He ordered too much food for supper, apparently forgetting that his dining companion was a small child and not a too-recently-starved young woman. After all the excitement of the day, Bonnie's eyelids drooped halfway through her sole.
Rhett folded his napkin and reached over to gently disentangle the crown from her hair, before she nodded off altogether and he had tiara meunière on his hands. Her head dropped toward him as he worked. Her curls crackled softly against his skin, and he leaned over to press another kiss to them.
She woke up when he picked her up from her small chair next to his. She hadn't even stayed awake long enough to make her nightly migration to his lap. Or for dessert. He chuckled at the thought.
He called softly for Prissy to ready Bonnie for bed. The girl moved with her usual deliberate lack of haste, and Rhett almost swore with impatience. Once she had finished and disappeared again, Rhett carried Bonnie over to the small bed next to his own.
"Daddy?" she asked, rubbing her bleary eyes when he set her down.
"Yes, precious?"
"Daddy, can I give Mother her necklace tomorrow?"
"No, darling, we won't see Mother tomorrow."
"Why not?" Bonnie asked, suddenly partly awake again, in the preternatural timing of children, designed to throw parents off-kilter.
"She's rather far away from us, darling. You remember the big ship, and all that water?" Bonnie nodded. "Well, she's on the other side of that water."
"Oh." Bonnie accepted this answer. "Why?"
Before Rhett could think of an answer, she asked a different question. "Can we see her the next day?" His smile was tight as he looked at his daughter. These questions were only becoming more frequent. Whatever he had hoped— if he had hoped anything— Bonnie was missing Scarlett.
"No, darling, we will have to cross all that water again first."
She seemed to work her brain around this, a tiny crinkle between her slanting black brows. "Okay," she said, and yawned again, growing sleepy once more.
Rhett turned the lamp low and watched her until her breathing lengthened in sleep, before laying down still fully clothed in his bed. He was tired. His body nearly ached with exhaustion, though he hadn't been all too physically active today. This was a tired of the soul, something he hadn't felt since he left Scarlett at Rough and Ready to join other doomed soldiers. He should have drifted into sleep easily, but his mind was active. Far too active. That damned necklace was poison in his brain. There was no reason for a piece of jewelry to have affected him, but it did. He was almost surprised the box did not emit a sinister glow. He wanted a drink. He wanted many, many drinks. He wanted to lose himself.
He sat up, and ran his hands through his hair. Dragged his hands down his face. He did not want to be here anymore, could not be in the same room with that infernal jewelry. Surely, he could walk down the block. Fresh air—such as could be found, anyway—and all that. Bonnie was fast asleep. Prissy was here.
He let himself out of the room and locked it quietly behind him. Just as quickly, he found himself outside. Warm light flowed onto the street from a window some ways down, beckoning him. Drinks, lose himself, yes. A lovely young woman brought him whiskey. He threw the drink back, and relished the burn in his throat. "Monsieur?"
He looked up. A different, even lovelier, young woman seated herself on the arm of his chair. She had hair the color of dark honey. It curled around her shoulders, bared by her dishabille. Her eyes were a deep, rich brown with sparkling flecks of amber. A sweet, heart-shaped face set off with a perfectly innocent, perfectly wicked mouth. Lose himself, yes.
At his continued silence, she laughed lightly. "Ah, Monsieur ees Américain?" She stood and moved back behind his chair. Maybe some of the girls didn't like Americans, he thought. Then she wrapped her arms around him from behind. He could feel the tops of her breasts against his back. She whispered in his ear. "Monsieur, you want… upstairs?"
He does not say no.
She undresses him in her room, and presses her naked body to his. She is beautiful, and he wants to want her. Does want her, he thinks. She is nothing like Scarlett, she is the exact opposite of Scarlett, and he knows, because she does not blush when she opens her legs, and Scarlett blushes when he kisses her. He sinks into her body, because he wants to forget, to stop thinking of Scarlett, who blushes and does not love him.
"Monsieur," she purrs, this beautiful woman who wants him, he can please her, is pleasing her. He raises his head to look at her again, drink in her golden beauty. Her eyes are green. Clear, pale green. Scarlett moans as he moves inside her.
"Daddy!" A high, shrill voice beckons him. "Daddy!" she screams again, more frantic this time. Rhett awakens with a start. He can't remember where he is, when it is, barely even who he is. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, his body heavy and aching with tension. Disgust rips across him when he remembers. The sheets are violently tangled around his body. "Daaddyyy," Bonnie says again, her scream giving way to a moan of abject terror at his lack of response. Blood is still roaring through his ears.
"Darling, I'm here." His voice is hoarse. Finally, he slips free of the blasted sheet. He hurries over to his daughter. He picks her up and cradles her against his chest. Tries to soothe her. "Shh, darling. It's alright. I've got you." he croons over and over, that and other nonsense words. Her arms are tight around his neck again. It is painful, and he is glad for it. His neck grows wet with her tears. "Darling, it's alright. My brave Bonnie. Daddy's got you."
He sits down in a chair, continues rubbing her little back, and trying to reassure her. She tells him all about the monster with its sharp claws and fierce beak. It has never taken her this long to calm down from a nightmare, but then it has never taken him this long to wake up from one, to come to her side. She is still crying, although the hysterical sobbing has eased. Her breath comes in shaky gasps now, and his heart constricts with pain at her obvious anguish. "I want Mother."
He leans back in the chair, gently disengages Bonnie's arms from his neck. He looks intently into her red, tear-streaked face. The blue of her eyes stands out even more. Pierces him. With one large hand, he smooths her hair back from where it has stuck to her wet cheeks. Then cradling her head, he pulls her back into his body. Her eyelashes tickle his neck. "I know, darling."
She hiccups and sighs. He stands again, walks around the room, patting her back. He goes back to crooning tender nonsense. Terror exhausts her, and Bonnie falls back to sleep quickly in her father's arms.
Rhett gently sets her back down in her bed, but does not get back in his. Instead, he sits on the edge, for the remainder of the night. He smokes and thinks. But he does not have to think much. He knows.
They will have to go home.
He books their passage in the morning.