Hello!

First of all, thank you for the support and enthusiastic reactions to my story. It certainly motivated me! Thus the early chapter (that and I will not be able to post anything this week-end, for I have to visit my family).

The previous chapter had been one that had been prepared among the firsts, and believe me, sometimes it had been hard not to focus entirely on this one. So by the time I got there, most of the parts were done already.

This is a really dark time in the story. It hurt, just writing it.

I hope you will like it, though.

.

Chapter 27

Impatiently, Rhett Butler let his eyes and ears wander around the room, the clatter of Mitterhofer's typewriter prototypes (courtesy of his, to cultivate his links to the good services of the police officers), the agitation of the men using it and shouting instructions and the plain walls with journals papers and threads of yarns linking point to point in a spider web.

His was a far more complex though, and for the moment it stayed completed in the secret of his mind.

Paul, one of his men, was investigating. He would certainly report soon. The officers were taking too much time, and he doubted they would search adequately, thinking a woman might not go too far.

Yet, Rhett knew his wife. She was resourceful, resilient and brave. She would be ready to do anything to survive. He could count on her stubborn nature for that. He would see her soon. Yes, he would. It was a matter of hours.

Oh, couldn't it be over already?

Hands clenched, unclenched.

Jack, the one he had ordered to watch over the house, was sorely missing, his absence innerving Rhett. Or maybe he was with Scarlett, and that was why it was taking so much time. It could be difficult to reason with her when she had something in mind, and he expected her to use all means at her disposal to get her way. Especially if she was angry at him.

It was Pork's time to report, and he followed the servant and the officer, determined to have answers about the hours before his wife's disappearance.

The room of investigation was even plainer, and dark. Maybe a tentative of intimidation. Though much less effective and refined than those he had known in his years of dubious, more or less official businesses. He sat down silently, crossing legs and arms, and listened.

Pork's expression was defeated, and he could see tears on it. He bet his employee was blaming himself for the fire, and was certainly imagining he was the cause of his mistress' death. The woman he had seen grow, daughter of a master he had considered almost as a friend, an accomplice.

No. Not death. Scarlett was alive. Of course, she was.

With fearful eyes, Pork began his tale, looking at Rhett for confirmation, though his nervousness grew with his actual master's progressively furious tapping of the fingers.

"First cam a smell, strenge an stronge… Der was yor man, Mister Butler, askin me about it. Miz Scarlett, she dinotte left her rom. She be cryin, por ting, den she be packing, but den she be cryin again. Den, dere was an explosion, de fire comin and spreadin, and Miz Scarlett left the rom and done ask me to gader every one. She done tole me she'd follow us, she needed to find someting."

The fool, the fool, the fool…

"Find something? What?"

"Did not say. So I gader the others, like she done tole me to do. But den, dere was already too much fire, and I couldn't. I done tole myself, Miz Scarlett's a clever one, she be followin. But den de fire…"

"You did not come to find her?" Rhett could not help but intervene in anger. "You should have forced her to come with you, drag her out if you had to!"

Damn you, Scarlett! He thought in dismay. Since when do you take such liberties with your survival?

"But, Mister… I tot you be dere."

Rhett froze. The officer, uneasy, turned towards him.

"Mr. Butler. I'd prefer it if you stay out of this."

His fists clenched. He shoved them in his pocket.

"Alright. Alright."

The servant would not say more anyway. He was already on the break of crying some more, and it wouldn't bring back Scarlett faster to him.

Where could she be? Someone like her couldn't disappear like that. One way or another, she would have given a clue to find her, he knew.

Yet, to him? With what had happened? It felt doubtful for now.

The children, maybe. She wouldn't have just left without trying to take information about their well-being, or find a way to join them.

Yet, the station was already covered, and no news seemed to come. As for the other possible options.

Rhett left the room and in the way met clear blue eyes. His mouth twisted.

"By God, what are you doing here?"

Todd Smith was leaning on one of the desks, fidgeting nervously on the pages of a book. He blinked, then cleared his throat, unsure.

"I am a friend of your wife."

"My wife has too many friends, yet none she particularly cares about," He quipped.

It was not particularly true, yet Rhett did not like the idea of this man being Scarlett's friend. Oh, not that he felt particularly threatened. He may have been good-looking and clever, Scarlett's words still rang on his mind. She did not even consider him. Not him, nor others.

Yet, he was easily swayed, with a tendency to spy, and Rhett was uneasy with the idea of him knowing more than him of the whereabouts of his wife. It was a possibility, an irritating one. And it was no good for Scarlett. The man was the black cat of the profession. Everything he tried to invest in tended to backfire on him.

The book closed and was left at a corner.

Todd, offended, was about to protest when an officer came at Rhett's side, and whispered to his ear.

"Belle Watling has been found dead this morning. Poisoned."

Somehow, this death touched him far less than it would have, in a day when she had been his friend. Now, it was tainted with suspicions, and the mystery of his wife's disappearance.

Todd was called into the investigation room. Yet, the officer at Rhett's side stayed.

"And… We found a body in the house," The officer said. Rhett froze. "The body of a man. His throat had been slit. I think you may know him."

He looked at the object handed to him. A silver pocket watch, with the carving of a fox pouncing.

Jack's. Rhett felt a cold washing over his body. He suddenly felt left out, as if he was missing some pieces of a puzzle and could not grasp yet the image it would give, and he did not like it.

He nodded.

"It's one of my employees. I asked him to watch over the house."

One hope dashed. But it certainly explained things. But Scarlett…

He shook his head. No, he would not think about it.

The officer looked at him with compassion in his eyes, yet, Rhett would have none of it.

"I'm sorry but… I fear there's no way she could have escaped on her own, Mr. Butler. And…" He hesitated. "We found it this morning."

On the officer's palm, there was the broken cameo. Covered with blood.

Rhett felt the icy grip of fear on his guts, his heart stopping from beating.

He stared, numb. He had to go. Yes. His ideas would be clearer outside. He needed a cigar. Some fresh air.

Yet, as he went to the hall, he collided with someone. An object fell with a loud boom that echoed in the room. Rhett looked instinctually at this.

A jewelry box. Scarlett's.

Both widened their eyes. One reacted.

"I'm going to kill you," Richard fumed. "It is your fault!"

Yet, Rhett stared, unblinking. And the English Lord continued shouting and pointing, attracting the attention of other officers nearby.

"She wanted to escape with me. She loved me!" He cried. "Hear, good men, you, Rhett Butler, did that! You killed her like you killed Cassandra, like you killed our babe!"

Rhett blinked and frowned with irritation. He refrained from the idea to push him out of the way. He did not need that foolishness now. It was too early in this goddamned day.

"You know nothing, lordling, and your petty revenge against me won't change that," He jeered. "And most of all, you don't know Scarlett. Don't even dare to compare her to that harlot."

Didn't… No, no, it couldn't be.

Richard's handsome face distorted in fury.

"YOU…!"

"It's been years, Richard, do you really want the truth of it?" Do you want to know how the girl came to me, with bright eyes, asking me to help her go to a backstreet abortionist? Do you want her to know she was afraid of you?

Unwillingly, a memory he had tried to forget came to him. The only moment of true jealousy. That night when Richard had drunk too much for his sake and threw her a bottle, killing instead the kitten he had just offered her by the morning.

It was an incident, Rhett had told himself. His friend had been pushed and pushed, and who knew actually if it was actually his child?

Richard relented.

"I know that she loves me, that she promised herself to me, and she kissed me. Me, Richard, not you, Rhett Butler!"

Rhett blinked.

"Who are you talking about?"

"You did that because you could not bear knowing she was mine, and not yours! She even gave me Tara and Twelve Oaks!"

Silence. Swiftly broken by the arrival of other officers who seemed to consider what to do. No violence in behaviors, yet it was in words… And most of all, there was definitely something going on that could help the investigations.

However, one of them dumbly decided to intervene. "Now, now, gentlemen…"

"Tara…" Rhett blinked, not noticing. "Scarlett gave you Tara?"

He let out a disbelieving sneer.

"You fool! You really think she would give it to you, you who she had met only a few days before? Would you truly think she'd give the one thing that kept her fighting during the war, just for your eyes? The only thing she would have stolen for, sold herself for, died for!"

No. No, not dead. Oh, why had he said that cursed word?

Richard fidgeted, faltered, then glared.

"I'll show you… Yes, I'll show you!"

He opened the box and looked through the content.

Rhett waited, a bit apprehensive, though by now, he had a little idea about what the man was about to find.

Certainly not Twelve Oaks and Tara's certificates of ownership, no. Scarlett would kill herself before doing that. He froze at the idea, then shook his head. No. Certainly something that would permit her to get rid of an annoying suitor. And he knew how annoyingly persistent and twisted Richard could be.

At least, he knew that it was what he would have done.

Yet… There was still a little doubt about it.

"She… betrayed me." His former friend paled, looking at the paper. "The bitch!"

With a snarl, he got a gun out of his jacket and pointed at Rhett, the gesture so sudden at first no one reacted.

"You two deserve each other."

Rhett smirked, deviously pleased by the confirmation. Yet, it did not fill the hole inside of him, that deepened as time passed and fear, unstoppable fear for his wife, crept in.

In a corner of his eyes, he saw that Todd had joined the mass.

"I entirely agree."

There, the officers tried to intervene. But they were pushed away, urged away by Lord Fenton's nervous handle of the gun.

"And I'm going to help you join her."

"Do it," Rhett said calmly. "Go ahead, shoot."

Richard was not a good shot, that's for sure. But it was better than to stay in this misery of waiting, hoping and despairing.

If she was dead, he'd join her.

If she was alive… Then, she'd live with his blood on her conscience.

"Now, now, gentlemen, let's stop…"

"DO IT!"

The door opened with a bang, revealing Pansy and another officer. All men's heads turned.

It happened in a matter of seconds.

Something passed between the Todd Smith and the newly arrived dark woman. His expression relaxed as she nodded.

Suddenly she pointed at Richard.

"Here, dat's im!" She cried. "Dat's im dat set fire to my mistress's ouse, because she'd discoverd what he's doin wit the orphanage! See it in his box, dere's proof."

Richard cursed once again.

"The bitch!" Richard shouted. Yet it was in this matter of seconds that men took advantage of his inattention and overpowered him.

Rhett laughed and laughed, the thing so strong that he was soon crouching, on his knees.

He did not even see the officers leaving with the box and a shouting Richard.

It did not matter. No, it did not matter.

Pansy stayed behind a little longer, and cursed.

"Are you mad?" She barked in his direction, outraged. "Do you really think it would have solved everything? She wouldn't want that, you fool. She wanted you to take care of the children. And now what are you doing? You set yourself into danger?"

Rhett stopped, dumbfounded by the accusation in her tone.

"SHE'S NOT THERE!" He yowled. "SHE LEFT ME!"

Whether alive or dead, her absence was like a hole in his body, bleeding, aching. No, dead, she could not be… She had to be alive. Her story wasn't finished. She couldn't disappear just like that. Not her.

He saw his former servant freeze, hesitate, then a hint of malice coming to her eyes.

"She left you, alright, and she's never coming back," She said simply. "You've wrong her so, Rhett Butler, and you'll pay for that. I hope you enjoy what you've built. It'll stay with you for the rest of your life."

He did not even blink at her change of language, no. It was something he suspected since the beginning and if once he had been amused by it, and could understand somewhat such a deception, now he simply did not care.

If the woman had shouted at him, he would have raised and fought back. Yet, she was calm, and she said nothing more than what he already thought. And more than that, he couldn't deny she, this woman who was his inferior, had seen everything, every fault of his, of hers. She was not as familiar to him as Mammy had been. But she had been a constant, invisible presence in these fallen walls he had lived, and somehow an unlikely friend to Scarlett, if what he had guessed was right…

But she'll come back, he tried to tell himself. She had to…

Todd winked at Pansy, following her as she left the room.

That man hadn't cared about Scarlett. He hadn't cared at all. Else, he wouldn't be able to act like that.

No, Scarlett was his, and he tended to be selfish when it came to what was his. At the moment, the idea of someone loving, caring for her was unbearable, for it meant he had to share her presence, her image, with someone else.

The door opened once again, and then Rhett thought he would lose it.

"Stop it all, gentlemen," Ashley Wilkes said. "I am the man you want."

Rhett had a jeering smile. Raising, he dusted his clothes.

"Oh, the knight in shining armor. It's a bit late for rescuing the maiden in distress."

Gone. Not dead. It couldn't be. He'd find her. That blood meant nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

The blond-haired man raised his feverish eyes toward the rest of the officers. He was in a pitiful shape, this knight. The shadow of a man, wasted, useless. His clothes were damp and shattered.

"I am the one who killed Scarlett O'Hara. I'm here for my penance."

Rhett froze. Blinked. Heart stopped Hands clenched, unclenched. Mouth opened, then closed. It seemed the moment went still and he could not process what was happening.

"You did what?"

Finally, it seemed that the man took notice of him. He froze.

"Mr. Wilkes…" One of the officers tried.

Yet, Rhett was faster. In a stride, he was at his former rival side, pinning him to the wall.

"I had to do it…" Ashley mumbled. "She was a poison in men's veins. A fire in my soul. I had to put her down."

"You fool, what have you done?"

No, it couldn't be… No, no, no...

Ashley Wilkes raised his head, an almost hopeful flame in his eyes, as if in search of an understanding.

"You and I, Rhett Butler, we were the victims of her charms…"

"Don't you dare compare me with you, Ashley Wilkes!" Rhett seethed, and the light died out. "You're a fool, and you stay a fool. For so long I've lived with your shadow in my life, and I thought she was the one to put it between us, when in fact, it had been you all along, sucking on my wife's strength, and on your own wife's strength, because you had none of your own!"

Yet, he did not seem to hear him.

"Mr. Butler, stop…"

"Shut up, all of you!"

Ashley continued, eyes lowered, shaking.

"The explosives were in place, and there was this smell of oil… It was as if it was fate, and I just had to light it up… I told myself, if God wants her to live, she'd escape. I've looked at the exit. I've waited and looked, yet… why did I have a gun?"

Rhett's heart plummeted, then shattered into million pieces. He felt like Pandora's box, yet it was the hope that went away in him, not the plagues.

"I don't remember… She was supposed to be my friend… She was supposed to be mine… But she wasn't mine, and she played, and she played… She wasn't the one I thought she was… These dreams that I had, of fire, of wars… Yes, that had to be the meaning, it was to prevent me from the trap I was about to jump in! And when I saw her, with that green dress, taunting me with the past and her beauty… They say the devil takes such seductive shapes… How many men had succumbed to her charms? How many good men, lured by these charms, became murderers, thieves, victims? I had to do it… Who could know Mephistopheles was a woman? I was certainly Faust despite myself… Oh, Melly, Melly!" He cried, tears coming to his eyes. "What had she done to us? She made us her slaves, and I was forced to live everyday with her temptations! I betrayed my honor, my wife for her…. And yet I wanted her… Oh, why had I wanted her? The best and softest of women was on my side!"

A painful lump in his throat, Rhett took him by the throat, having heard enough.

"So, you're telling me that you've sentenced my wife, the woman who had given you much more than you deserve, the love of my life to a most painful and long death for… for what exactly? Not comforting you? Not giving herself to you?!"

I am yours…. Body, mind, heart, soul… all yours…

How easy to think I was the unfaithful one, the untrustworthy!

Rhett was almost tempted to laugh at the irony, if the matter wasn't so painful. He tightened his grip, and the man winced. "Give me a good reason. Give me a damn good reason not to end you now."

The fallen hero lowered his head, his eyes dull and lifeless.

"Do it. I should have died long ago."

Rhett blinked.

He let him go and shook his head.

"No. Killing you would be a reward to you. I won't make you a martyr, Ashley Wilkes. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve someone dirties their hands on your blood."

Ashley's shoulders fell, but Rhett wasn't finished.

"Mr. Butler!" An officer cried, but he ignored him, gripping at Ashley's shoulders.

A vicious light came to his eyes as he whispered into his enemy's ear.

"There's a truth I want you to stay for the rest of your life: you were wrong. I am the Devil. I am the one who corrupted Scarlett, who tempted her, again, and again. But you… You've murdered an innocent. It was your choice. No one forced you to do it. Not me, not God. Not even Belle, though by sucking on her life, you've sucked her hatred. You are a murderer. You are weak and you've proved it, trapping the innocent in a fire, not even looking into her eyes as you killed her, a woman that has given you so much without you never doing anything to deserve it, because you couldn't live without sucking the strength of betters than you!"

In the former gentleman's face was an expression of total agony. His eyes widened in horror and pain.

"Enough! Enough! Mercy!"

Mercy?!

"No, it's not enough! You'll have no mercy, not from me, damn you! You made her your obsession, and now you made me your nightmare, and I'll make sure you never find any peace nor haven on this earth!"

He pushed Ashley Wilkes into the wall and left, ignoring the calls of the officers behind him, too afraid to catch him and the repercussions it could have.

He went back to Peachtree Street automatically, without a thought. He was cold, empty.

Yet, only ruins awaited him, and a white smoke that still hovered around it.

He turned back.

He went to the Hotel and took a room. Silently, he drew the curtains and sat on a chair, eyes in the darkness.

Nothing ever mattered anymore. He was lost. Everything was dark. Everything was flavorless.

Scarlett… was dead.

He was dead.

…

On the day of the funerals of the late Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler, a strong wind was blowing in Atlanta, putting everyone in disarray. The good people of Atlanta and beyond gathered to intend. Many by curiosity, and by love of gossips. Some who hated her and still did. Some who hated her once, and appreciated her better even more now that she was dead.

Nuns from the orphanage had gathered children and were praying silently. It had been a surprise, actually. No one had ever thought it would happen, yet when the news came, some of the children recognized the lady on the first page of the journal. They remembered her story, they remembered the boy who had been with her, the image they gave, that of a family they wanted to have, but did not dare to hope. One nun had been convinced. Then two. Then three. The Mother Superior stayed in her office. But she did not prevent them. She had no reason to, anymore.

The first part had been, to the disappointment of most, surprisingly calm. People barely said anything, the priest said the words as he should. The infamous husband stayed silent, immobile, his eyes dead, dull, when once they had been alive with mischief. It was the last straw for the poor Captain Butler, and even those who were beginning to see him in a dark light now saw him with pity.

As for the children of the deceased, no one had dared to tell her the unfortunate news. They were too young, they had already been through a lot. Let them live a little more in ignorance, Henry Hamilton had said, in discussion with Mrs. Meade. It could not be advised, for no one could actually be sure it would be held properly, without havocs. Miss Pittypat had agreed whole-heartedly, lamenting on the poor children, all alone in this world. Yet, she wasn't ready to offer them any place, for it was already so tiny, in her home!

It was with scruples the lawyer had made his decision, contrarily to Mrs. Butler's will who gave this responsibility to her husband. Yet, said husband had secluded himself for days now, not even taking care of the preparations of the funerals, fact which had loosened many a tongue on the relationship between husband and wife. It had taken many to persuade him (rather forcibly) to intend and not stay in the darkness of his room. Poor Bonnie Butler's name had to be mentioned.

One candle had been lit to represent Scarlett's youngest sister, Carreen, who could not intend, stuck to bed with smallpox. The other, the one that had been wronged by her, had her hands clenching and unclenching, frowning and frowning, so most hopes were all on her, despite the attempts of her own husband, that Cracker Will Benteen, who was trying to comfort her. To some, he did so begrudgingly: the woman had killed her own father and now had sold their home to who knew who. People stared and stared, until finally came her time to talk.

At first, she tried to appear dignified. She straightened her pose, her head up high, her hands clasped in front of her. Yet, her words were too soft, whiny, and no one quite understood what she was saying. And when the wind finally blew her dress, shockingly showing her petticoat, she let out a cry of frustration and turned toward the coffin, accusing.

Some eyes glinted. There it was, the scandal they expected.

"You always had to find a way out and to be the center of attention, uh, Scarlett? I had the upper hand, and you just had to die, like that, just to spite me?" The sister of the deceased yelled. "I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I…"

She raised her foot, as if to kick the coffin, yet she froze. Tears came to her eyes and she faltered, grasping at her shawl, trying to keep it around her shoulders with a desperate grip. Will Benteen took her by the hands. Yet, when he did so, her eyes wandered and paused in Rhett Butler's blank face. Wrath lit her eyes and she ran to him. Will caught her, but by the time he did so, she had already scratched the other man's cheek.

"You murderer!" Suellen wailed, barely contained in her husband's arms. "You've killed my sister! You'll go to hell for that! You will! You've killed my sisteeeeerrr!"

The rest of the words were lost in the grief, and she buried her tears and sobs on Will's shoulders.

Yet, Rhett Butler did not even blink. The whispers continued, louder.

The priest stared, shocked, then gave a panicked gesture to proceed.

Rhett heard the bells, the coffin being slowly lowered to the ground.

This awaked him.

"What's in the box?" He mumbled. "What's in it?"

He raised his hand to make it stop and strode towards the tomb. Someone called him, tried to make him stop. Yet, he did not see it. All that mattered was that rectangular piece of wood, too simple for someone like Scarlett.

He grazed the coffin with trembling hands, the image of her in his mind, so vivid, so clear. Scarlett with her bright green eyes, that sharp tongue he had never managed to tame, the way her body danced sometimes without knowing. The life pouring through every pore of that body that had fitted so perfectly with his, the power she had had on him, and how she surrendered to his…

Scarlett, dead? It couldn't be. He couldn't believe it. He needed to see… He needed to touch…

The fingers found the opening and pulled. He froze. Nothing. No one.

That was when hell went loose.

He kicked the empty coffin, kicked until the wood splattered, kicked until it broke, barely aware of the reactions of horror around him, and when it was done he fell on his knees with a feral cry to the sky.

Yet, the sky would not answer. So he lowered his head and cursed, his eyes black as a night without light, a night without hope. The weak, broken man that had been barely there, the poor, unfortunate one was gone, and instead, the Devil had taken his stead. Some signed themselves. Others stared. But none talked, even the ones who wanted something unusual to happen.

"Damn you, Scarlett. You wanted me to regret leaving you, you foolish, blind woman and you won't have that satisfaction. It is you who will regret leaving me. What? You've given me a taste of paradise, of understanding, a vision of grace and charm, and now you're gone?! Hear me out," He paused, before shouting. "HEAR ME OUT, ALL OF YOU, DAMN HYPOCRITES! … Damn you, Scarlett. Oh, I'm sure you're happy now, seeing how they are gathering around you, how they are singing your praises… But not me, no, not me. You'll not have that out of me. You could have, but not now. I curse you, Scarlett. May your disloyal little soul find no peace neither in heaven nor in hell!"

"Mr. Butler!" Mrs. Meade cried.

In a corner, Suellen wailed, and was brought farther by her husband.

"May it wander helplessly in that ruined house you've lived and that I've paid for, and find no content until it finds mine, and when it does, you'll see how deliciously cruel I can be. You haven't seen nothing yet!"

He laughed, madly, helplessly. The laugh of the devil, making the old cats that had resisted cross themselves and back away. The nuns gathered the children, afraid, and left first.

"Damn you, Scarlett, you had promised to me!"

"Mr. Butler, enough!" The priest pleaded.

"THERE'S NO BODY IN THE COFFIN!" He screamed, as if possessed. "NO BODY!"

He raised with fire in his eyes and glared at the remaining crowd.

"Leave. All of you damn fools. LEAVE!"

The good populace of Atlanta coming to the event blinked, and most just did it.

One stayed, though, and waited a long time in the background for the aftermath.

Which came soon after, when the cemetery emptied itself. The legs of Rhett Butler fell under him.

Henry Hamilton shivered unwillingly, but duty must be done.

With a calm voice, he approached the grieving man. After all, he had met that kind of men, that would crack at the funerals of a loved one, and he had always known how to handle it.

Never so violently, though. Even if he wasn't a particular religious, he felt suddenly tempted to cross himself, especially with the strength of the wind, that seemed at the moment linked to the man's wrath.

"Mr. Butler… Come with me."

He took him by the arm and urged him up. It was a shell he was almost carrying, dull, tired eyes, glaring at him. Yet, Rhett Butler followed numbly to Mr. Hamilton's office, not saying a word.

Once inside, he was offered coffee, but he wouldn't touch it. Henry Hamilton sighed. From all of his missions, this was the one he detested the most. He gathered his hand in front of him and settled in his desk, taking out the papers from his drawers. Professionally, he began.

It was a routine, after all. Nothing less than usual. It wouldn't do if he considered it differently.

Except it was about the death of one who had been close to him. He cleared his throat.

"My niece was a lot of things, and mostly I did not agree with her. And I still don't. Yet, she trusted you, and it is my duty, though I know you will fail yours, to tell you what she has left you. First of all, the store and the benefits of it, that she wanted you to take care of until Wade or Ella came of age and took an interest in it. Then, the ownership of Twelve Oaks and Tara…"

The man raised his head abruptly.

"She has given me Tara?" and it sounded like 'she has given me her heart?'

There was a maddening light in Rhett's eyes, and Henry Hamilton felt himself falter.

He considered the next steps.

Here, there was the custody for the children.

Yet, Rhett Butler was not in state to take care of them. Not even of himself.

Henry Hamilton was conflicted. On one side, the Law, and morals even, wanted him to respect a Will and to inform the heirs.

It was already a bad trick on Scarlett's part to give Twelve Oaks to her husband, when she had promised India Wilkes not to give it away to him. Well, that was stories of the past, stories of women, and he had learned not to partake in such foolishness. Yet, here, it was different. Wade was his great-nephew. As his family by blood, he had the duty to take care of him. He'd be better with his family by blood, he reasoned. It would be better like that.

The decision was swiftly taken. The custody was slipped quietly in his satchel.

He took back the custody. Now was left Scarlett's letter. This would be easier.

"… and a letter, by your late wife. You may take time to read it."

With hurry, he left the man alone to ponder, the letter on his desk for only company.

At first, Rhett did not react. Then, as the infuriating ticking of the oak clock continued, he raised silently and approached the desk. He hesitated, then took the piece of paper.

.

My dearest Rhett,

If we ever miss each other again…

Well, it wouldn't be hard to imagine, for I believe we missed each other quite a lot!

In what sense, you would ask with that infuriating smile of yours. In all senses, maybe. We've never been people to do things half-way, so I better try to prepare for the eventuality. Even if it hurt.

Anyway, I'm sure you'll find a way. I trust you. It's just in case.

No matter what, I want you to know that I love you, and I know you love me. I know you love my children, our children. You've seen them grow, they are more yours than they ever were their fathers'. You've cared for them, seen them grow. In Wade, there is this firmness, this intellectual curiosity, that are not mine, but yours. In Ella, there's this soothing side that is yours in part, though I'm sorry to tell you the other (and bigger) part is Melly's . So don't get too cocky about my saying so many compliments!

Yet… I'm glad I made the right choice. Marrying you, despite all the infortunes, all the misunderstandings, all the tears and misery, had certainly been the rightest decision I ever made. For me, for my children… You've tried to give me security, but the sad thing is that you alone couldn't have done this. No one could have. No one, but I could have gotten rid of the nightmares that haunted me and made all my flaws all the more overwhelming. You've given me the means, but I had yet to take it and use it. I should have realized you couldn't wait for me forever. You're a strong man, Rhett, a patient man. Yet, you're not invulnerable, though I would like to believe so. I hope (though very begrudgingly) you find what you're searching for. That vision of charm and grace (see, I've listened to you!). Even if it is without me. You deserve it.

Did I ever tell you, my love? When she died, my mother cried out a man's name. But it was not my father's. It was that of another. My mother, that I thought a Saint, so pure, so unreachable, so unlike me, who was trying too hard to be something I was not… She loved another. Someone bold, someone adventurous. Someone who got away. Someone like you, it seems, though I'd be angry if you let yourself be killed like that, so don't you even dare!

It seems I am my mother's daughter, after all. Once I love, truly love mind you, it is until the very end. And I love you. I love your cunningness, that way you take a malicious interest in showing the others the limits of their sayings. I love that when you love, you do anything for that. I love your strength, and I love your weaknesses. And I believe in the end, it will be your name that I'll cry out. Rhett. Rhett. Don't leave me. Stay with me. Hold me. Rhett, I love you…

You are the love of my life, and I hope to have been the love of yours. Take care of the children if I'm not here. I hope you will never have to read this letter. But one might never know, with us.

Hasn't it been a great adventure?

As always,

Your Scarlett, your wife, the woman who love.d you so

.

For the first time in ages, Rhett Butler put his forehead on his fist and cried. The letter stayed in his hand, slightly crumpled, before slipping unnoticed under the desk.