Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction; all characters belong to the late, great Margaret Mitchell and her heirs.

*There is a shameless literary reference in this chapter, which I'm sure close readers will be able to spot - nothing like borrowing from a classic*

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Chapter 10:

Lifting her head, Scarlett stared into Rhett's widened black eyes. "And you are a heartless bastard. Now get out of this room before I have you thrown out. No, not just out of this room, get out of this house, off this property and out of my sight, forever!"

"Or what, pray tell?"

"I'll make you regret that you were ever born. And if you ever threaten to take Wade and Ella away from me I'll do it, too. I'm capable of it, Rhett Butler. More than you know."

"I've already done my share of regretting when it comes to you, Scarlett," he declared, breathlessly and with a twinge of respect…or was it fear? "But you're as mad as he is to put yourself and them through this…hell."

"Stay in this house a moment longer and see how mad I get."

"Fine, I'll leave you to your heart's content. The two of you deserve one another."

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She heard him bark an order at Mammy or Pork before another door slammed. So he hadn't left the property. Not just yet, anyway.

The desire to fight with him having left her and feeling utterly miserable, Scarlett returned her attention to Charles, who seemed to have been lulled back into the deepest slumber. He looked little more than a frail child, the sheet molded to his gaunt figure. The sight of him made her chest grow tight. So little of the boy she had once known remained…he would have been better off dying, better than this!

She closed her eyes until the anger had settled, somewhere within the endless abyss of her emotions before looking at him again. His face was turned away from her, but his eyes were open again, big doe eyes reminiscent of Melly's—as though Melly was looking down upon her, reminding her of the duty she owed him….and Melly herself.

The obvious need of her friend for retribution, for atonement, was not lost upon Scarlett's Catholic sensibilities, no matter how faded. She had stolen what had belonged to Melanie for years, now she was reaping the consequences.

She moved over to the window and thrust it open, drinking in the air in hopes that it would assuage some of the overwhelming guilt that was threatening to overcome her entirely. The wind arose, as if it was responding directly to the turbulence of Scarlett's own emotions, the tops of the pine trees whispering their secrets and sending shivers down her spine.

If only Rhett would just leave so she wouldn't be forced to face him time and time again. But he was not a man to back down in the face of adversity…nor was he a man to cease in defending what was rightfully his, and she was, in his eyes, his. And he'd stand toe to toe with the devil himself to avoid being cheated out of his due—yet, in that moment, Scarlett felt more evil than even the devil…

The next morning

Rhett had slept on and off throughout the night, and while he tried to reassure himself that Doctor Meade's snoring was the cause of his unrest, he could not disengage the image of Scarlett sleeping in a chair at Charles's bedside from his thoughts. He awoke at dawn, his neck and back stiff, to find none other than Scarlett herself standing over him with a breakfast tray, her gaze fixed on the pallet on the floor where the good doctor had been only moments before.

"I thought you were leaving." she said.

There was little of the previous evening's emotion written upon her face. She was wearing her dressing gown, a silk creation of emerald green, and her long black hair was catching the light in such a way that it looked as glossy as a raven's wing. As usual, she smelled of some strange combination of magnolia and lavender.

"Where's Doctor Meade?" she snapped.

"He went for a walk or to otherwise relieve himself," Rhett replied, groggy and aching and hard with desire.

"Oh," she said, clearly irritated. "Well, you might as well take this, then."

Rhett took the tray from her, then watched with amusement as she floated to a chair and gracefully dropped into it. Good. Perhaps she had come to a decision that would put an end to this madness for good and all.

"The weather's turning rotten. You'd best leave before the roads become impassable. Will says we're in for quite a thunderstorm."

Rhett sighed. "I'm not particularly keen about riding out into one of those. Besides, I'm tired. I don't feel well. I slept on the floor, and what little amount of sleep I managed was interrupted by the snoring of the illustrious Doctor."

She giggled in spite of herself. "Well, would you have preferred to share with Ashley?"

Perched on her chair, she looked towards him, waiting for him to take her barb.

"No, Scarlett. I am content with my accommodations for the present moment."

"So, I take it that you are not leaving?"

Light rain began to patter against the windows and he stood up to ascertain that the window was securely closed.

"Rhett?" came her tiny voice, her confident demeanor all but disappeared.

He was suddenly crushed by the weight of his despair at the thought of losing her and his sense of helplessness. He moved to the chair and dropped to his knees.

"I'm sorry," he offered. He turned his face slightly, unwilling to allow her to see the raw emotion he was delving through.

"Oh Rhett, it's all my fault," she began to sob, "you would have had to have known him. He was so pure. Too kind and good for me, just like Melly. And I think that I, in some way, have brought this on him…"

Her voice finally broke, and she burst into tears. He swallowed hard.

"I can't lose you again."

"What?" she sniffed.

"I refuse to lose you again. Not this time, Scarlett. Charles can't be helped at this point. You must understand that."

"You're right. He's dying, Doctor Meade said. He's given up. If I could only reach him, if only to apologize, but I don't know how."

"Come here." He extended his hand. "Come here. My poor pet. Come down here. That's right. Lay your head here on my lap, like you used to when we were honeymooning in New Orleans. Remember how we made love all night? You had never known that sort of pleasure from a man, Scarlett. You were made for that. That's right, honey. Close your eyes and tell me your remember."

"Oh Rhett," she whispered, drifting into the darkness…

...

Charlie, you must wake up, darling.

"I can't, Melly. Please, just let me sleep. I'm so very tired."

I told you, you must wake up.

"I can't."

You cannot will yourself to die, Charlie. You have to fight. You must.

"I don't belong in this world, Melly. It's too frightening."

I cannot help you if you won't help yourself.

"I want to die, Melly. Then we can be together."

Since when are you so afraid, Charlie? What are you afraid of?

"Life, I suppose."

Many things have changed, Charlie.

"Not for you, Melly. Only for me. Charles Hamilton is gone, I tell you. He's gone…"

...

"He's gone, Scarlett, gone!"

Ashley's cry wedged through Scarlett's own murky confusion and thrust her back into reality like a shower of icy water.

Ashley was standing at the doorway flapping his long arms in agitation, his face contorted with fear and despair.

"He's gone. Charlie, he's gone!"

She disentangled her hands from Rhett's and jumped to her feet.

"What the hell are you saying, he's gone?" Rhett said with annoyance as he rose behind her.

"The door was unlocked." Ashley explained. "It was wide open. Doctor Meade and Will were downstairs having coffee, Mammy and your sister and the children haven't even risen yet. But Pork and I have looked all over, he's not in the house, Scarlett."

She stumbled through the room, her mind still half asleep. "Who left the door unlocked?"

She bolted from the room, Ashley at her heels, and stormed from the house out into the inclement weather. Where to go? Where to begin?

Rain was coming down in sheets now, and her hope of finding Charles was fading with each resounding clap of thunder and ensuing lightning strike. The wind was clawing at her face, forcing her to struggle for each breath.

"Scarlett!"

Rhett's calls pounded inside her head and her heart, her fear mounting.

"Scarlett!"

The reality of Charles's vulnerability was not lost on her. But where to look? Where? What if they found him dying or already dead? Could she ever forgive herself?

"Charlie!" she screamed again, helplessly, desperately. Ashley had long since disappeared from her sight, presumably to search the barn and old slave cabins. Finally, she heard the sound of a man's boots splashing in the rain.

She ran toward the sound, but tripped on a gnarled, exposed tree root. The muscles in her legs were burning as she attempted to pull herself upright, but suddenly, his arms were around her.

"Rhett, oh Rhett!"

"Scarlett! You're alright. Oh, God. I thought you'd…Here, take it easy…Let me carry you back up the house, that's right…"

...

As a child, the man had often snuck away from his Aunt Pitty's protective eye and wandered up the deep creek beds which formed the outlying areas of the great plantation owned by his cousin. He sat there again, sitting Indian-style and stoop shouldered, hidden behind the trees, watching the man swoop up his wife…

How he envied him. Yes, envied. He watched as the silhouette of the man moved back towards the house, carrying her in his arms.

He would be back, one day. And he would have his vengeance for the life that was stolen from him.

*END PART 1*