Author's Note: I'm sorry for any confusion this causes. As I have stated previously, I did not promise that these would be in order, and this chapter chronilogically goes before the previous chapter but after the one before it. I had another chapter completed, but it didn't feel right, I realized it needed more. And so there is this chapter and then another chapter that will again be again up to where we are in the story. SO basically this is after Bonnie comforts Rhett after he imagines a dea Scarleet acusing him of murder. But it takes place prior to Rhett watching Scarlett as she sleeps. SO sorry if this cause any confusion. I hope that you enjoy this.
He was still in the dark when she came for him. He was always in the dark now. The glow of a lit cigar was the only light in the room-- the only light in the darkness.
He was in a sad state. He was getting more and more unkempt each day. He almost didn't recognize himself. Or he might not have recognized himself if he was aware enough of himself to notice. He was like a condemned man waiting for the final word to come down and for the executioner to appear. He neither ate nor slept; he only waited for that final verdict to be read. Debris surrounded him as his tired eyes stared into the darkness. The only brightness in his existence was when Bonnie would come into the room. Her small arms were the only respite from his tortured mind.
His clothes hung more loosely on his diminishing frame. He held on to each word from the sickroom, preparing himself for what had already occurred in his mind. When Melanie delivered the news that she was worse, it nearly rent him in two. If it hadn't been for Bonnie's most timely appearance, he might have taken his pistol and sought an end to her guilt. But she had appeared at exactly the most desperate moment. She was the only reason he had gone on in that moment.
It was in this darkness that Melanie found him each time. The floor littered with the uneaten food and cigar butts. Never once had Melanie been able to offer Rhett the words that he wanted to hear. She could see it in the line of shoulders in defeat that he loved her. She could see his agony. That he loved her was beyond question. He would have died to save her if he could have. And so Melanie took upon herself the task of keeping him up to date on Scarlett's condition. She tried to give him hope, when there didn't seem to be much to offer at all. Most people might see Melanie as a ray of sunshine, but it was clear to anyone that entered Scarlett's room that death was a very real possibility.
It was in the darkness that she found him. She finally had news that she was delighted to share, news that they had all been only hoping for. But he was not prepared for this news. He had prepared himself for her death, not for her to live.
"She's dead?" he asked with glazed eyes. The alcohol clinging to him as he found solace in the dulling liquid.
"Oh, no. She's much better." Melanie consoled, the joy plainly showing on her face.
"Oh, my God," he wailed and then he began to sob, wracking body shaking sobs that seemed to shake the foundations of the world. There was a strange choking sound that he was surprised to discover was coming from his own throat. And then he heard the door shut, and he felt her gentle hand on his shoulder. He clutched at her as he had once done with his mother. He was a child again, and he clung to her as a terrified young boy with his head in her lap as she offered kind consoling words to him. She softly stroked his black hair as she murmured to him.
Somehow that released the dam of words that he had been fighting. And he babbled, telling her things that he should never have told anyone. He opened his heart and laid it there at her feet. He spoke like a child, hiding his head in the folds of her skirt, the material of the skirt gathered tightly in his hands. The words came of their own volition; he held nothing back from her.
She simply patted his head as she did any other child and said: "Hush! Captain Butler! You must not tell me these things! You are not yourself. Hush!"
But the stream of words continued to flow, showing no signs of ceasing. Finally the words at the center of his fear came forth, "I've killed Scarlett, I've killed her. You don't understand. She didn't want this baby and--"
"You must hush! You are beside yourself! Not want a baby? Why every woman wants--" Melanie refuted.
"No! No! You want babies. But she doesn't. Not my babies--" He brokenly cried.
"You must stop!" Melanie pleaded.
"You don't understand. She didn't want a baby and I made her. This--this baby--it's all my damned fault. We hadn't been sleeping together--" He confessed.
"Hush, Captain Butler! It is not fit--" as the blush that had begun earlier deepened to crimson.
"And I was drunk and insane and I wanted to hurt her--because she had hurt me. I wanted to--and I did--but she didn't want me. She's never wanted me. She never has and I tried--I tried so hard and—" He paused only to take a breath to continue. "And I didn't know about this baby till the other day--when she fell. She didn't know where I was to write to me and tell me—but she wouldn't have written me if she had known. I tell you--I tell you I'd have come straight home--if I'd only known--whether she wanted me home or not. . . ."
"Oh, yes, I know you would!"
"God, I've been crazy these weeks, crazy and drunk! And when she told me, there on the steps--what did I do? What did I say? I laughed and said: 'Cheer up. Maybe you'll have a miscarriage.' And she--"
"There! There!" Melanie crooned, seeming to ignore his words. "Hush, now. I understand."
He raised his head violently and looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, fiercely throwing off her hands. "No, by God, you don't understand! You can't understand! You're-- you're too good to understand. You don't believe me but it's all true and I'm a dog. Do you know why I did it? I was mad, crazy with jealousy. She never cared for me and I thought I could make her care. But she never cared. She doesn't love me. She never has. She loves--"
But he stopped then. He seemed to regain his sanity just in time to prevent himself from wounding his protector. He couldn't hurt Melanie like that, dear sweet Melanie. He must protect her from that information at all costs. Something in her gentle eyes broke through the haze that clouded his mind.
"I'm a cad," he muttered in stead of finishing the truth of who Scarlett loved. "But not that big a cad. And if I did tell you, you wouldn't believe me, would you? You're too good to believe me. I never before knew anybody who was really good. You wouldn't believe me, would you?"
"No, I wouldn't believe you," said Melanie soothingly, beginning to stroke his hair again. "She's going to get well. There, Captain Butler! Don't cry! She's going to get well."
He nodded and sat for a moment remembering his own mothers soothing arms, before rising and allowing Melanie to stand. "You must go see her, Captain Butler. Even if she hasn't said it, she needs you near her. She needs to see you." He nodded, wiping the tears from his face with one of his own handkerchief's. "Thank you, Miss Melanie. Thank you. I will. I just don't think I'm ready quite yet." She offered him a tired smile as she left the room, leaving him to his musings.
He wondered momentarily if he would ever be ready to face her. He wondered if he would ever be able to look into her eyes again. But he did need to see her. She didn't need him, but he needed to see her again. He needed to prove that she lived and breathed. He needed to know that he hadn't been the end of her. She needed saving from him, but she also needed saving from herself. Perhaps he could find a way to make her slow down. He injuries might never allow her to live the life that she had lived.
What if there was more that they weren't telling him, what if this injury had crippled her? It required no stretch of the imagination for his to consider that a possibility. Could he live with himself, if he had taken more from her? Could he bear it, if by his doing she was unable to walk? What kind of life would that be for her? He wouldn't leave her, he could never leave her, not when there was any doubt as to whether she needed him. But nor could he deal with the guilt of what he had done. He had to see her,; he had to know the extent of her injuries.
He had to see her again.