This kinda just keeps it goin'. Thanks for reading! ^^

Rhett reined his horse in front of Aunt Pitty's house; he sat and stared for a moment at the front door – he dreaded facing her, especially dressed as he was. Wanting to make the visit as hasty as possible, Rhett decided to go strait from Dr. Meade's to Aunt Pitty's; he would stop by his hotel room for fresh clothes after informing Pitty of Scarlett's condition. In any case, he knew what a blubbering fool Pitty would be and he was in no mood to deal with her wailing and carrying on as she did. His mind was locked on Scarlett and returning to her side as soon as possible, but Pitty would surely keep him longer than he was willing to stay.

He tied his horse and swiftly made his way to the front door. Uncle Peter answered almost immediately – they must have been expecting some news.

"Hello Uncle Peter, where is Pitty?" Rhett made his way inside the door looking from side to side for any trace of Scarlett's Aunt.

"She upstairs suh. She been in a fit evah since you's hea' the otha day. Them staihs is mighty bad on muh knees suh, forgive meh fuh not showin' ya up. It's tha secon' room on ya lef'." Uncle Peter pointed up the staircase and proceeded to return back to his task in the parlor.

Rhett slowly made his way up the wooden staircase; his hand slid up the rail as he walked – he could feel the stiffness of his shirt from Scarlett's dried blood. As he made his way up to the large oak door, he paused; he took in a deep breath and knocked lightly.

"Oh, Uncle Peter! Is that you again? I told you I was ill, please leave me be. Well, if it's about Scar…" Rhett turned the knob and revealed himself slowly.

"It's me Pitty, Rhett Butler. I've come to tell you about Scarlett. I've – uh – found her." Pitty's eyes brightened with happiness at his words, but her face quickly fell as she noted the distressed expression on Rhett's face.

"What is it Captain Butler? Is Scarlett alright? Wh – what's on your shirt?"

"Pitty, you must remain calm, please. Scarlett's very hurt; she's been shot." Pitty took in a deep breath and covered her mouth with her hand, but she did not speak. "I've come to tell you the news and then I must be off. I'm going to stay with her over at Dr. Meade's home; I will be sure to keep you informed on any changes in her condition. She's not conscious yet, but we're all hoping for the best. I beg you to remain calm, especially if you come visit her when she awakens." Rhett approached Pitty and placed his hand on hers, "She's strong, and you know that as well as I do. I'll return here soon." Rhett gave a halfhearted smile and left the room before Pitty could say a word – it would be better this way, he thought.

When he returned to his horse his mind was numb; he could only think of Scarlett and all the things he hadn't said to her yet. He cared for her more than any woman he'd ever known, but she was so unaware of his feelings for her. He played coy when he called on her and acted as if she meant nothing more than an acquaintance – how stupid he'd been. His guilt increased with each passing moment – had it not been for his past, Scarlett would probably be at Tara feeding everyone there, or fighting with him in some irreverent way while they rode in his carriage through town. He would regret nothing more in his life than possibly giving up any chance he had at telling Scarlett how much she meant to him. God, if he ever got the chance he'd never let her think she meant only an acquaintance to him.

Rhett gathered his clothes quickly; he'd bathed and shaved as swiftly as he could manage, the water ran red by the time he was finished scrubbing his arms clean. He gathered his bag and made his way back outside to his horse. Dr. Meade wouldn't be home for another couple of hours and he needed to get back to Scarlett in case she came to. He kicked his horse and galloped toward the Meade's home.

Rhett was greeted by Mrs. Meade at the front door, "Has anything changed?"

"Mr. Butler, she's still not awake." Mrs. Meade's eyes held a grave look that told Rhett something else was wrong, "She's very hot; she's got a fever now. We're trying to break it, but nothing seems to be working. Dr. Meade should be home soon, he'll know what to do."

Rhett's eyes widened – fevers meant death if they persisted. "Thank you." He closed the front door and rushed up to the room where Scarlett lay. He cracked the door open and stared at her; Scarlett's eyes had sunken in and a dark ring was placed around them, her skin was very pale and clammy with sweat. Rhett slowly made his way back to the same chair he'd sat in only a few hours before. He placed his bag beside the bed and kissed Scarlett's forehead cautiously. Her skin burned under his lips making him shutter at how uncomfortable she must be. He felt so helpless; anger swelled inside his chest – how could this be his Scarlett, why was it not him who had to endure this. He picked up a cloth from the table beside the bed, rung it out into the bowl of cold water and placed in on Scarlett's head.

Mrs. Meade came in and out of the sickroom for the next couple of hours gathering rags and empty water bowls – she remained quiet aside from asking Rhett if she could get him anything. Rhett sat beside the bed with Scarlett's hand in his recounting stories of their meetings and of his travels over seas. He seldom ran out of things to talk about for fear of becoming angry again; he knew in his heart that Scarlett could hear him; he just wished she would start yelling at him or call him a fool for rambling on so much – or say anything.