As Rhett walked up the front porch steps at the Hamilton house, he wondered how many times he had walked up these very same steps. How many times he had knocked on the front door calling on Scarlett and Pittypat with a box of bonbons or other various trinkets meant to flatter and fluster, later charming his way into an invitation to dinner. Despite the ongoing war, those had been happier times, filled with hope and possibilities, and above all the lack of responsibility. Then his actions and the choices he had made only affected himself, and he had reveled in the selfishness of his reckless behavior. But now he had a family, a wife and three children, and they were affected by every decision he made. At times, they were like chains rooting him to the ground and holding back the adventurer inside that screamed to set free, but at other times, they were like blessings, giving him a place to call home, something he had never experienced before or even scarcely hoped to find. He loved his family, God how he loved them, but there was no denying that it was hard to smother a part of himself that had always existed, a part that desired to act out of self-interest and pounce on opportunities that presented themselves, no matter how selfish, no matter the consequences. He loved Scarlett and yearned for that love in return, so he lied, winning her unfairly but winning just the same which was all that mattered. Unfortunately, those unpleasant consequences were now surfacing, and he was paying for them dearly. However, Rhett would not allow the woman he held partially responsible for the sudden tumult in his personal life get off scot-free while he suffered.

Knocking brusquely at the door, he was greeted by India Wilkes who looked anything but pleased to find him standing at their entrance.

There was a pinched look to her face as she said, "Aunt Pittypat isn't at home, Captain Butler. You should call at another time."

"Good evening Miss Wilkes. I'm well aware of Miss Hamilton's whereabouts. She's not the reason I'm here. May I come in?"

"No. There isn't anyone else at home."

"Something else I'm well aware of, unfortunately given that this is partially my wife's home, you don't have much say in the matter," Rhett said matter-of-factly before brushing past her into the house.

"How dare you! Get out of here this instant."

"Do you enjoy living here Miss Wilkes? Wouldn't it be a shame if you were to, oh I don't know, suddenly have no place of residence?"

"Don't you dare threaten me," she spat. "What is this about?"

"Threaten? I don't recall threatening you. I merely made a simple observation. Why don't you take a seat," he continued, moving into the parlor carelessly as though he owned the place. "I believe we'll be here for a while."

"This is my home and I'll do as I please."

"That's still to be determined. Take a seat," he ordered in a rough commanding voice while his eyes bored into hers as cold as stone, and she took a seat on the settee, feeling unexpectedly frightened by this man's strange and ominous presence.

"What do you want from me?"

"Only a frank conversation. It has come to my knowledge that you have an insatiable need for gossip, or rather a need for spreading it."

"I don't know what you're referring to."

"No? Perhaps I should refresh your memory. You do recall the delightful event of your brother's birthday party?"

"What of it?" she asked coolly but shifted nervously on the couch, uncertain as to where this conversation was headed.

"It appears as though you felt the desire to gather a group of women to discuss my virtues, something my wife was fortunate enough to overhear."

India let out a quick laugh of wicked triumph. "Did she? Well then you both got what you deserve."

"I wouldn't laugh so fast Miss Wilkes. Do you believe in retribution?"

"You cannot hold me responsible for what she overheard."

"Oh I can do more than hold you responsible. If you hadn't been spewing the acidic words of a bitter old maid, then we wouldn't be in this mess."

"I only spoke the truth."

"And what truth was that exactly? The venomous sputtering of a jealous spinster? "

"Why don't you ask your wife Captain Butler? Or has she moved you back into your old bedroom?"

"It must be a lonely life you lead Miss Wilkes, resenting Scarlett for everything she has and all that you'll never come close to achieving. Does it still cut you to know your former beau preferred her to you, that even your own cousin and sister-in-law holds her in higher esteem?"

Anger flared and India lashed back. "Does it cut you to know your wife is still running after my brother Ashley?"

It took everything for Rhett to remain cool and to curb the desire to strike this fool of a woman for being an idiot, but instead he sent her a sharp menacing look then let out a mocking laugh as he stood and loomed over her.

"I don't suggest you test my patience. I don't profess in clinging to honor like your estimable brother."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Only fools aren't afraid when fear is staring them straight in the eye. Then again, maybe you aren't a fool given that you are after all trembling," he added mockingly then laughed outright at her scowl.

"I do despise you," she hissed, though there was slight quiver in her voice that could not be masked. The thought that perhaps Captain Butler was not someone to be messing with crossed her mind. There was no telling what the man was capable of since he was a reprobate, the type of man she was not accustomed to going up against. "What do you want?"

"It's very simple. I want you to set your sights on another victim and leave Scarlett alone. That means cutting all forms of contact with my wife, verbal or otherwise. You will refrain from uttering your snide remarks and you will keep your opinions to yourself. You will make it your business to stay out of my wife's way. I don't even want to hear you gave her so much as sour sidelong glance. And if we are ever so lucky as to be forced to attend the same social event, you will make it so that we hardly realize you exist."

"Why should I? I don't owe you anything," India sneered, refusing to let someone else call the shots.

"No, only your brother's life, and if that means very little to you, I promise I can make your life exceedingly difficult for you. What do you think Mrs. Wilkes will say when she hears that the one person behind her very dear sister's sudden unhappiness is you? How long do you think it will take her to blackball you from society? You certainly had no qualms about meddling in our affairs, and my conscience won't prick me in the least from doing the same."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

"Melly would never believe you."

"No? I don't believe you realize where Mrs. Wilkes loyalties lie. I wonder whom she would believe? The sister who is responsible for the birth of her son, her safe escape from Atlanta and refuge at Tara, or the woman who has made it no secret that she harbors a deep resentment towards her sister? I wouldn't take that gamble if I were you. You would not only find yourself homeless but friendless as well since there is no doubt in my mind who people would side with. And where would you go then? Back to your relatives in Macon? Either way I win Miss Wilkes," Rhett remarked with an impudent smirk that had India hating him more than she thought possible. "I recommend you learn the art of biting your tongue to save yourself the embarrassment because if I so much as hear that you've been spreading gossip about my family, I assure you that's the predicament you'll be finding yourself in."

"I'm not the only one you need to worry about Captain Butler. One way or another she will find out the truth, and you both will be just as miserable as you always were. You deserve each other."

"Don't cross me. You may think you despise me now, but I have yet to give you reason to. That could always change. The choice is yours," Rhett warned, meaning every word, before taking his leave without allowing her a chance to reply.

The words had been so stern and laced with menacing undercurrents that it made her skin crawl, and India could not have been more grateful at his departure, realizing that this man did not make idle threats.

~R&S~

Finding sleep that night had proven difficult for Scarlett not only because of her and Rhett's recent quarrel but also because of the unsettling loneliness that came with sleeping by herself in a large cold bed when one was used to a firm source of heat by their side and a broad chest to pillow their head against. There had been a few times early that night where she had drifted off into a light sleep, turning to her side and expecting to touch the warm skin of another only to wake suddenly and find that there was no one there. Alone, that's what she was, and there was nothing that told her she was alone more than lying in an empty bed, staring up at a ceiling that could hardly be seen in the still blackness of the room, a room so quiet one could hear the sound of the wind whistling against the glass of the window. Scarlett shifted restlessly underneath the sheets, beckoning sleep to take away reality and soothe her turbulent mind. It was true, this had been what she wanted, this solitude and quiet, a place to think without distractions, but above all, she had wanted to hurt him because he had hurt her. And hurt him she had, something that hadn't brought the perverse pleasure and satisfaction she had been expecting. It was a curse loving this man, this man who had made her love him under false pretenses, having her believe the life they had was a blissful one, only to have the rug pulled out from under her, to see the illusion cruelly crumble away. How was she to trust him again after he had told the perfect lie, a lie she had willingly believed but should have questioned more thoroughly? There was no doubt about her still loving him, she did, a love that was so consuming and frightening she wanted to hate him for it but couldn't. A love that forced her to acknowledge, even just to herself, that she could not go on living without him and their children. Forgiveness would come eventually, it had to, but Scarlett would not allow herself to go home yet, not until she had discovered more of the truth that could never be trusted with Rhett to provide. And with these thoughts on her mind and a decision made, a deep sleep finally greeted her grateful body.

~R&S~

As Scarlett rose that next morning, opening her eyes and rubbing away the drowsiness that still lingered, she was prepared to find that the only heart she would hear beating was her own, that there would be no breathing coming from the opposite side of the bed…Only that was not the case. Fear overwhelmed her body while her heartbeat raced anxiously, pounding thunderously against her chest, the blood rushing to her ears as she listened to the light snoring floating up from the floor. Grabbing her pillow as the only weapon readily available, she peered over the side of the bed, and with all her force, brought it down over the intruder's head in a hard whack, enraged, though somewhat thankful, to find her husband sleeping soundly on the floor.

In one quick jolt, Rhett was up and alert, staring straight into furious green eyes.

"Damn you Rhett Butler! What are you doing here?"

"Would you please stop shouting," he replied casually as he rubbed a lazy hand over his eyes, "I hardly had any sleep last night. The floor is surprisingly uncomfortable, though I won't deny I've slept on worse."

The pillow connected powerfully with his face again, not once but three consecutive times before he thought to rip the weapon out of his wife's hand to stop the violent abuse. A short laugh wanted to bubble from his lips, but after seeing the storm brewing in Scarlett's eyes, he thought better of it.

"What do you mean by breaking in to my hotel room? You knew I wanted to be alone!"

"For one thing my dear, I did not break in to your hotel room. I had a key."

"How could you possibly get a key?"

"Oh, not much trouble really. The Butlers are well known in Atlanta, that's us my pet in case you've forgotten, and I don't believe there's anyone who doesn't know I'm your husband. It's only natural to assume we would be here together. Besides, the man at reception is a good friend of mine."

She reached for the other pillow to smack him once again then realized he was sleeping on it.

"I don't suppose I want to know how he became your friend."

"No. I don't suggest you ask me that."

"Get out!"

He laughed lightly. "Good God Scarlett, I hope you didn't think I was implying I brought – er – women to my hotel room."

"Then what are you implying?"

"I assure you, it's something you don't want to know."

"You seem to think you're still an expert on what I should know, and I think we are both aware that isn't true," she replied tartly with a furious glare.

"That's not what I meant. I did not come back to argue, Scarlett," he said casually though there was a tired tone to his voice, almost as if a sigh had slipped his notice and tinted his words.

"Why did you come back?"

"Because I knew you didn't want to be alone, as stubborn as you are to admit it."

"So you snuck back into my hotel room in the middle of the night and slept on the floor so I wouldn't know you were there? I might as well have been alone, Rhett. I thought I was. You're lying."

"If you would have woken in the middle of the night, having one of your nightmares, I would have been here. I know how it hurt you to remember your mother that way, Scarlett. I didn't want you to be alone. Now if you'd like to know why I slept on the floor, it's only because I would have hated to disturb your chaste bed. You need not worry. The next time I make an appearance in your bed, it will be when you ask me."

"Is that the only reason you're here?"

Ignoring the instinctive impulse to dance around the truth and obscure the vulnerable and often insecure inner workings of his mind, Rhett hesitantly replied, "Perhaps I also refused to break the promise I made you."

In that moment Scarlett could not have loved him more, but that love battled with hate, as it often did, a hate at finding herself so weak and easily unraveled at a few simple words. Rhett was the only one who could shatter her resolve then suddenly drive her to fight when she wanted to reconcile.

"I didn't want you here. I didn't come to a hotel so you could follow me here Rhett, I came to be alone. I want to be alone," she stubbornly emphasized.

"I don't see what difference it makes if I was here last night. You thought you were alone. It's what you wanted."

"Well I'm certainly not alone now am I! Give me back that pillow."

"No, I don't believe I will, not unless you promise not to use it as a weapon."

"I make no promises."

"Then I'm afraid to inform you that I will be keeping it."

"Give it to me," she insisted, reaching for it.

"That's no way to go about getting what you want my dear," he said while dodging her attempt to grab a hold of feather filled cushion.

"Damn you give it to me!" she shouted, lunging for the pillow once again then missing terribly and sliding off the bed to the carpeted floor on top of Rhett, taking him by surprise. Seizing this opportunity, her fingers curled around the edges of the cushion and tugged vigorously, but having the better reflexes, he gripped the pillow tightly before she had the chance to snatch it away. They both fought fiercely for the item as though it was something prize worthy, struggling with such force that their breathing quickened as small beads of sweat formed at their temples while they rolled around the floor like two children fighting over a favorite toy. It never occurred to either of them that there was another pillow available and now unguarded since they were both so engrossed in besting the other. Neither was willing to give up or ready to relinquish control until finally Scarlett was lying flat on her back with Rhett hovering over her, his face only a few inches above her own with a devilish grin accenting his features, and she burst into intoxicating giggles that had them both laughing and momentarily forgetting their recent war.

"I hate you," Scarlett muttered though a genuine smile was still playing at her lips.

"That certainly isn't the first time I've heard you say that," he said with a short chuckle then reached out to twist a lock of the raven hair that was spread wildly about her head around his finger.

"I wonder why that is."

The ice in her voice had him drop the strand of hair, and Scarlett stood, swiping the pillow before moving back over to the bed to lie down. Rhett watched quizzically from the floor, sitting up but making no move to stand or follow her to the bed.

Catching his stare, Scarlett offered softly, "You can come in the bed if you'd like, Rhett. I'm sure it's more comfortable than the floor… I'm asking."

"And here I thought you wanted me gone?"

"Oh I do, but asking you to leave hasn't been working."

He laughed lightly, grateful that a teasing tone had replaced the coolness in her voice, and he took a seat at the edge of the bed.

"You know Rhett, I am glad you came back last night," she continued.

"Why?"

"Because then I know you weren't somewhere else."

"Do you honestly believe I would do that to you?"

"Why not? You did before."

"Those were different circumstances."

"Why can't you say you made a mistake? Damn you, why can't you apologize? It can't be all that difficult to say, Rhett. "

"Would you prefer I lie?"

"Well you've certainly had practice at it, haven't you?"

"I won't go in circles again, Scarlett I won't," he said tersely, his patience beginning to thin even though he had promised himself to remain cool. It was frustrating not mention exhausting taking one step forward only to take two steps back an instant later. To think progress has been made then finding out that you were same place you had started from. "I'm sorry for the way you found out. You never deserved to hear what you did."

"So you're like a thief who isn't sorry he stole but who's terribly sorry he's going to jail?"

"Where did you hear that?" Rhett questioned sharply, his eyes suddenly alert with interest and a tinge of anxiety.

"A cad told me that once. I understand it better now. You didn't honestly propose to me at a funeral?"

"After a funeral. What else have you remembered?"

"Why did I think I killed my husband?" Scarlett responded swiftly, ignoring his question.

"Is that what you want to focus on now? Is that what you deem important? The past is gone and there isn't anything we can do to change it."

"Maybe you're right. You probably wouldn't tell me the truth, even if I asked for it." With heavy sigh, she looked away from Rhett and stared up at the plain white ceiling, wondering when it was that she had started to look forward to cutting him with her words, to feel the satisfaction of seeing the pain in his face with every biting remark. It was turning into a compulsion that was hard to break. "I don't want to argue either."

"You've certainly made a poor imitation of it."

"Well you don't make it very easy."

His hand crawled over to hers that lay limp by her side, covering the soft delicate alabaster skin with his own rough and swarthy flesh, giving her hand a gentle squeeze when she made no attempt to pull it away. "I want you to come home, Scarlett."

"Give me a reason."

"I haven't been to Belle's, not since you've lost your memory. Not once."

"I want to believe you… but I don't."

"If that's not enough, I love you. I've always loved you. Long before any of this ever happened," Rhett conceded, deciding that their relationship was well worth the possible loss of his pride. If she laughed in his face or decided that there was nothing left between them, at least he would know that he had tried. Regret lingered a lot longer than the sting of ridicule.

"Do you?" Scarlett asked in voice just above a whisper, finally forcing herself to meet that torturous hopeful gaze. "Then why didn't you say so before? You could have but you didn't."

"I doubt you were in the right mind to hear it. You didn't want to hear it."

"No, I needed to hear it, but you never said it. Not once."

"Should I have said it just to hear how you hated me in return? I'm sorry I did not leap at that opportunity."

"What makes you think I won't say I hate you now?"

Tenderly, he lifted a hand up to her face and caressed the soft curves of her cheek. "Because I know you won't."

"I want to come home Rhett, but I can't. Not yet."

"What do I have to say?"

The truth, she thought but did not say aloud. "There isn't anything you can say. I still don't know how to…forgive you. I need time."

"I'll promise you the days, but not the nights."

"If you want me home, you'll do as I ask. Please."

"All right, you win my dear," he said then lightly brushed a kiss across her forehead before removing himself from the bed.

"What?" she questioned incredulously. There wasn't a time she could remember winning anything against Rhett Butler, let alone having him concede without a real fight. "Where are you going?"

"I'm giving you time. Have you changed your mind?"

There was a grin playing at his lips and it took all her strength not to smile in return. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he said with an infuriating wink then was gone before she could ask what exactly he had meant by that.

~R&S~

There were questions Scarlett still needed answers to, answers that were likely to shape her futures decisions, answers that could not be trusted to just anyone, least of all Rhett, and she waited until later that night to go about discovering at least a few of them. If there would be any hope for them to start again, she needed the truth, all of it, and from someone who would not feel pressed or obliged to lie.

The darkness cloaked her face as she walked down Decatur Street, grateful for the anonymity the night provided in case someone should pass by and recognize her. Unfortunately, the moment she reached then stepped into the lighted establishment, there was no longer any way to hide her identity or the flush that rose to her cheeks at the sheer embarrassment at finding herself in such a place. Her eyes scanned the room, and the gaudy décor caused revulsion to gnaw in the pit of her stomach, the furnishings baring a slight resemblance to the ones in her own home. There was an instant where Scarlett contemplated heading back to the security of the hotel room but then she immediately thought better of it. This was something she needed to do, and the only fear she would allow herself to feel was the fear of discovering her husband had once again been deceitful.

A young woman came up to her, the features of her face hidden by a heavy layer of powders and rouge, her lips painted a deep false red. "I think you're in the wrong place, miss."

"No. I'm looking for someone, Belle Watling. Could you show her to me?"