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Chapter 29

Randall Jones had generally been moderately lucky in his life. Not too much, but not too little. Second son of an impoverished plantation owner, he had learned some tricks, whether with a whip or with a pair of cards. His first marriage had been for money, his second for pleasure. The wench had chosen to stay behind when pleasure wasn't everything that would happen in their lives. Well, her loss. A man had to make some money. And money was quicker to get when it was gotten with dirty hands. Every gentleman knew that, yet only very few of them would accept it. He was one of them and determined not to be left out.

Tonight was such an occasion. He had been losing for quite a few turns, yet he knew soon would be his lucky strike.

His hands ran through his pocket, searching, before gripping. He froze for a while, hesitating, before putting the earbob on the table. Its emerald winked at him as a green fairy wishing him good luck. He smiled.

Black eyes glinted maliciously. Green with envy. Blue with an affected disinterest that hid greed.

The game continued. And he won. As he expected. With a smile, Randall took back every bit of money and left with a smile and the beginning of a whistle.

He was well-satisfied with himself. For his last days here, it wasn't so bad. Soon, he'll be on his way to Jonesboro with the others. The promise of a fortune, a fortune that seemed not enough for four.

Well, that could be changed. People died a lot, these days. Anything could happen.

With that in mind, Randall felt giddy and confident. There were stars, bright on the sky, for him. And it was only beginning. Maybe he could get one of these girls, from Belle's former whorehouse. It hadn't been quite decided what would happen to them for the moment. Surely, they were in need of money and would be quite agreeable.

In his pocket, he gripped the earbob.

It had brought him chance, actually. It had made him prove his loyalty, he, the newcomer in this venture. It could have been a disaster, with him being knocked down by that stupid woman, but he had managed to turn it to his advantage. And now, since he had it on him, he felt invincible, almost untouchable.

Why, he felt almost like Rhett Butler now! Though Rhett Butler at the peak of his glory. The man today did not seem that well in that aspect. Some whispered he was demented. The more for him. It was time for new people to come replace the old. After all, it was the order of things. Adrian was just too wary for his own good.

Randall whistled some more, and then someone answered his tune. He turned, curious, to the direction of it, and almost laughed.

Well, he knew better than to go to a dark empty alley. The trick was too vulgar for him.

Yet, who could use it one him and think he would be caught?

Picked by this, he went closer, the taste of rum giving him some daring. He called out at the black figure before him and jeered. The streets were empty, no one would hear that insolent man cry. No one would see. He had no gun on him, he had left it at the inn. Yet he had his fists. He would not let himself be insulted like that.

Randall squinted his eyes, trying to see better. That was the black-eyed man.

He seemed familiar, somehow. But actually, it wasn't that surprising. Everyone seemed familiar after a few drinks of liquor. He shrugged.

"Are you such a sore loser, man, to follow me like that?"

A sharp laugh answered him. Then a cold, hard voice.

"Tell me, Randall, just how many men does it take to put explosives around a house?"

Randall froze, then took a step backward, a doubt coming to him. He shivered.

"What…"

"Your friend Jordan said no one, but I'm sure you have a much better answer."

The sandy-haired man blinked, cold sweat on his skin, flowing with a torturous pace all over him.

"You are…"

"Visibly not enough, for a madman was needed to light it up," The man stepped to the light, and the silver of his gun gleamed at him like a silent threat. "Or did Adrian become a coward?"

Sobered, Randall felt his knees shaking, before they gave up on him, and he felt the sting harshly.

"You are…"

"Who am I?" The man taunted. "Why, you seemed much braver a few seconds ago."

Randall gulped. There was no light in these black eyes, no mercy to be found.

"Rhett Butler…"

"That's right. And you know why I'm here, certainly."

A light of recognition came to his brain.

"The fire… "

A hint of white teeth was shown, a sharp contrast with the swarthy dark skin.

"Oh, you're smarter than you look. That's right. You've been messing with the wrong house. Now, all your little friends are going to pay. Every. One. Of. Them."

Randall's teeth were painfully rattling. He had to find a way out. Something that would make him pause.

"You'll hang for that!"

"Oh, that's sweet…" Rhett Butler mused. "You seem to believe I care."

An easy prey, that's what he was, he thought. Caught too easily, with an exaggerated bravado that did not survive at the first hint of threat.

Swiftly, Rhett pulled Randall's hair who cried in pain and met his eyes, before whispering in his ear. "I don't."

"It was Olsen and Adrian's idea!" Randall cried finally. "They asked me to look after the plans, and then I was knocked down! When I regained consciousness, the plans were gone, and there was that earring near my head! Hugh… He's the one that said it was her, and that she was working against us… So he said it was better to find a way to shut her up. And then… Adrian said, it's a vixen, and how do we deal with vixens that hid in their lair?..."

Actually, it was him that had said that, but it wouldn't serve him with that man. Yet, his hair was pulled harder and he cried.

Oh, Scarlett, Rhett thought. You've been in quite a mess. Adrian's little gang was a lot to handle, far more than could ever have been the one she had joined. They did not stop for women and children, though Randall, as a new addition was an odd thing. He had always seemed too soft, too picky for that. But maybe not. Maybe not…

He understood now better what was in her head that night, the flush on her cheeks and the urgency in her eyes.

He twisted the hair in his hand. The man cried out once more.

Randall sobbed. "I did not want it, no sir, it was too queer for me! We waited for you to get out, for we knew…"

"That I'd be harder to defeat, right?"

The sandy-haired man wept and nodded, as if that could change anything.

"And then they killed one of your men, and I thought it was enough! And then came a darkie with a red-haired giant…"

Red-haired? No, it couldn't be…

An idea came to his mind, crazy and persistent. Yet, he could not entertain it, for it was a hope that would kill him if reality crushed it. Not now, when there were so many things to do. Not before he could avenge her. He could not, he would not think of it.

Yet, the man continued.

"We fought, and then we hit one of them. The other ran. But then… there were people that were gathering, so we had to go… And then… minutes after, there was the explosion… But we did not know who lighted it, I swear it!"

He pulled once again, pressed the gun to the temple.

"Had Richard known anything about it?"

The man shook his head, and he was disgusting with all that sweat coming out of him.

"No-o… He was unconscious all the time, and we did not see him, sir!"

"And then?"

Randall blinked another tear. "And then what? I've said everything that I knew! Oh… Well, not all," He added as Rhett pulled his hair once more. "We're supposed to meet at Jonesboro. And try to find someone to guide us here."

Rhett let go and Randall sighed in relief. He let out a sharp breath of air.

Yet, the gun was still on his temple.

"You're… I thought if I talked…"

"Did I say anything about it?" He smiled with a cruelty he had not felt for quite a long time. A cruelty that felt right this time, more than deserved. "You know, I've always known when somebody lied to me. And you did, by saying you haven't done anything and you did not want this. Sad thing is, it happened, and now it's your time to pay. Goodnight, Randall. Say hello to the devil underneath."

And then, the trigger was pulled, and it was done. Silently, Rhett considered the scene, blew softly on the powder, until it stuck on Randall's wet palm and put the gun in the man's hand. The other was still gripping that damn earbob, the proof he needed to be sure the man had been involved in all this.

Well, he could keep that piece. It wasn't worth anything without the woman wearing it.

"Tsk. Such a lack of gumption."

What a waste of time. He had wished for a little resistance, a fight. Everything that could erase the lethargy that was threatening to come back to his mind. But here, nothing. How disappointing.

He took another way, taking the night as his mantle to hide himself, and went back to the ruins of his house. Most of the walls had survived, though some seemed to be falling at any moment. At least, it wasn't in wood, like those plantations he had suggested her at first, he mused. A Swiss Chalet, she wanted. Red stone and grey shingle.

He wandered through it, the hall where Bonnie would greet him, that big room with the floor formerly covered with thick red carpeting, and the stairs where Scarlett had fallen and almost died. The stairs where she threw away her rings to him, and bared her heart one last time…

It was at the end of it he had found the wedding ring back. A hint of gold, near a tiny glitter of what should have been the engagement one, who had not resisted the fire. He had blown on it, and the glitter had disappeared. The gold had been affected, yet it had survived.

Then, he had heard her whisper, and he thought he had been going crazy.

He sighed, then kneeled down, weary.

"Two gone, Scarlett. Four left. Then I'll come to you, my darling…"

Adrian, Olsen. That Scot man who did not stay in place. And that black man, so allusive, slipping through the fingers like sand.

He put his hands on the ashes and swore it.

"Where are you, my love?" He whispered painfully. "Are you hiding from me?"

He waited for a time, but nothing answered him. He was beginning to be used to that intolerable silence.

He shook his head. No, she could not hear him anymore, and he had to live with that for the rest of his life. It was foolish, this belief that would not leave him. He could not find her anymore. It was his sick, deprived mind that was playing tricks on him.

He went back to the hotel and cleaned himself. But he still felt dirty. So he went down again and ordered a drink at the counter.

He took a sip, trying to ignore the presence that had come by his side after a few minutes. His ears waited for the demand, yet it wouldn't come. He sighed, put down his drink.

"You're going to ask me Tara back, aren't you?"

After a time, Will Benteen answered.

"No. You'll give it back soon enough, once you realize you'll not find what you're searching for."

Rhett shook his head, almost amused.

"And what is it, that I am searching for?"

The Cracker man met his eyes quietly. "Her."

It sobered him. So Rhett gulped his drink down and ordered another.

"Such different women, the sisters O'Hara. Always picking a fight, like dogs and cats. Always bringing the worst in the others when they were together. And yet, it is her that Suellen is crying for, even if she would not admit to it," Will continued, before sighing. "How strange it is, to think of her as dead."

Rhett gripped his new glass.

"Don't."

"No, I feel you need to hear it," Will insisted. "It might hurt now, but if you don't talk about it, you'll be but half a man, chasing a shadow that has not the same shape as the original anymore."

Rhett wanted to throw the glass at him. How dare he talk to him like that? Couldn't he see he wasn't in the mood for such thing? Couldn't he sense how dangerous he was tonight?

"I still remember the days at Tara, when she was the one to order everyone around…"

Visibly not. Yet, that last part put a nostalgic smile on his lips.

"She always liked to do so."

"And it was deeply needed. It was… but a house with no true foundation, and it seemed she became it, so much that without her, I doubt we would have survived."

"She bloomed in such adversities. I always knew that."

Will nodded, his head lowered to his own drink, as if considering.

"Knowing is not seeing, though I do believe in all these years you've seen how strong she is… was," Will paused. "I was… that kind of man, a Cracker, disabled, visibly no use for anyone. And still, she took me in. Very begrudgingly, that's for sure," He chuckled. "She was not really soothing. Careen was. Careen was… a light in the dark. Bright… Bringer of hopes…" He looked at a distance, then continued. "Yet, I could see Scarlett was strong, and she was holding everything together. These things at Tara… It either breaks relationships or strengthens them. Breaks people or strengthens them. She inspired me, without knowing, to go on, and help."

"You sound as if you were in love with her."

It sounded too much like an accusation, yet Rhett could not help it.

Will looked at him, bewildered, then laughed. "No, sir. Admirative, only. I always knew she was not for me. She's a woman that runs, and I knew I could never keep up."

At least, that man had some sense of humor.

"You certainly saw Ashley."

"I saw Ashley. And I knew he was not for her either. But I could understand it. Strength without belief is a terrible thing, and I could see she needed something to believe in. I've heard they were childhood friends."

"Yes."

"Must have been hard for you."

"You have no idea."

In the background, some people laughed at a beggar that had managed to slip in the hotel, one of the employees trying and failing to bring him out.

And yet, Will would continue.

"I remember her with that green dress. I remember thinking: 'this woman is going to a war on her own, to make us survive, and she's not going to stop until she saved us'" He snorted. "Ashley said he had not seen anything so gallant. He acted as if I did not understand. Yet, I did. Perhaps even more than him, who thought he was the one that had brought her to this. Tara… It was like her life source. She might have said she did not want this, or wanted to escape it, but it was her roots."

Yes, she had said so to him, now Rhett remembered. Tara…

"You see a lot of things, don't you?"

"When you can't act like you want to, you learn to listen and see. I had no other choice," Will shrugged. "I'm sure you did not think in such a way when you saw her. Else it would have been you she would have brought."

"I could not access money at that time. And…" He sighed. "Even if I had, I wouldn't have, not at that moment. I was too hurt to see how desperate she was, and I thought, 'Well, she's doing it for Ashley. I'm not risking it for that.' I guess I wasn't that much smarter than that man, then."

"Is that why you made him go to that asylum?"

His black eyes burned threateningly as he answered.

"He went because he is sick and should be taken care of. He's a burden for society."

"He's a man that needed care…"

Rhett snapped.

"He's the shadow in my marriage and the one that lit the explosives around my house. You can't expect me to pity him."

"I don't. Yet, he's not the only problem, is he?"

With a sigh, Rhett leaned back and turned the liquid in his glass clockwise, looking at the maelstrom it brought. "No, I guess he's not."

"So what are you going to do about it?" There was almost defiance in the man's tone. "Take revenge on anyone, until there's only you, or are you going to be brave enough to live?"

Rhett paused, considering. In his heart was a cry that he wanted to ignore, but the more he ignored it, the louder it seemed. He sighed.

"You're a wise man, Will Benteen. I wish I had known it before."

"I was forced to. One cannot get everything they desire. One has to make it with what they have. It's not always easy, but it's also a source of happiness."

"I used to have a similar philosophy."

"Then what made you change?"

Fear. Urgency. Despair. He wanted it all, and he wanted it fast.

He did not answer, yet it seemed no answer was needed. Will nodded as if he understood, then took another sip of his ale, before

"And… about the children?"

Rhett's shoulders tensed.

"I do not have their custody. I can't just take them away. It wouldn't work in the long term."

"It surprises me. Scarlett was not a woman to see in the long term. Yet, from what I've understood, she made her will recently. For her not to mention the children is unusual. I knew she wasn't the tenderest mother, yet… It is quite odd, that there's no mention of it."

Rhett took a sip of his drink. He thought about it too. Yet, what could he do? What would be possible for him to…

"Daddy…" A little hand pulled at Will's sleeve. "Mummy has stopped crying. She's calling for you."

"Thank you, Susie, I'll come. You can return to your sisters, now," He turned towards Rhett and put his hand before him to shake. "Till next time?"

Rhett looked at him, then nodded and took it. "Till next time."

And there, the man smiled at him, and he felt a kindred. As if he had made a friend.

And maybe it was the case. He had never discussed such things with someone else before. At least, someone that wasn't Scarlett. It felt intimate, perhaps too much for his sake, and he did not like such a vulnerability being shown.

Perhaps another time, he thought as he raised softly and went to his room. And perhaps, the next time, it would be Will telling him his problems with his own wife.

What a pair they would make, he mused with a sardonic smile. The disabled Cracker and the Devil of Atlanta. It would have taken the loss of Scarlett for him to make a male friend, at least one that seemed true.

Scarlett would have certainly delighted in that, thinking it was because of her.

Oh, Scarlett… He'd throw anything away just to see her bright eyes on him again. To see these dimples on her cheeks when she smiled, the tiny porcelain white teeth that shined against her naturally red lips.

He needed to put it on paper. Or else, he would be driven mad by it.

The feeling of her against him, her tiny shape, yet that fitted him so well for it urged him to hold her close to his heart. The dark silk of her hair, scented with magnolia and rosewater, and so much more that he could not quite identify, other than with the word 'belonging'. Her eyes, attractively slanted with these clear green orbs and these lights that danced in it..

He looked at the paper, stopped the frenzy of his pencil. The image before him was not enough. Not nearly enough.

There was no escaping Scarlett O'Hara. He had tried many times. And it was excruciatingly painful that she had succeeded in escaping him.

"In the end, I became so much more…

Oh, he never doubted that.

You wanted the whip, and you wanted me to show my back to it! But I'll survive. I always do. This time I'll be the one that got away, not you. This is the end of my story. No reunion of great love, for that has never been what you sought, no moping around for the woman while the man becomes a triumphant martyr. Now, it's over, and I'd sooner burn to Halifax, and the whole house with me, than see your lying face again!

Oh beloved, no, please don't! He wanted to cry. I love you. It doesn't interest me anymore, it had never brought me anything, to try to whip you. I wanted you tame, and I wanted you free, with me. However I forgot I wasn't tamed myself, and refusing it too. I should have known that I couldn't force it out of you. It did not give me you…

Yet, these thoughts would not bring her back.

What do you want?

He wanted her. He needed her. Oh, if only he had managed to let go of his fears! If only they had set everything aside and admitted to it! If only, lost in his insecurities, he had not wanted to push her to ask him to escape with him! If only she had not put the divorce papers before him!

Now, he could see clearly she had been trying to make him stay as well. And that was certainly the hardest thing. For it once again proved him right, in the cruelest way possible: they were so alike! So alike that they had tried over and over at the same time to urge the other to do their biddings, thus putting them at odds for they did not want to be the one making the first step!

Is my love not enough for you to stay and reach out to me?

He shook his head. No. He was wrong, at one point at least. She had made these steps. Yet at the last moment, he had retracted and mocked her for it. All that because he had been afraid it had been a trick.

If we ever missed each other again…

He almost choked in a bitter laugh.

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!

Oh, he never did… He never had the time. It had always seemed like a war, life with her, yet how the moments of peace were sweet! War staged by her, staged by him, all because of fears, hers, his, and ghosts that should never have come between them. They had been seconds from pure happiness, a true understanding. And for what, now? An empty tomb, ruins of an already broken house, Wade and Ella being set apart, and he all alone, with a hole in his chest?

Was that what she had wanted? Was that what he had wanted?

He took the bottle. Then put it back. In his heart, another cry was heard.

Scarlett's children. Their children.

The face of a boy, with usually soft brown eyes, here bright with distress, and a hope that was fading.

"You've told me you'd stay with us! And you know Mother would have wanted us to stay together, and for us to be with you!"

They need you , the voice of Scarlett said softly. When had she said that? He couldn't seem to remember.

I need them , he thought. I need my children. I need my family. The ones I've chosen for myself. For Scarlett. For the children. For me.

He would get them back. There couldn't be nothing from Scarlett about it…

… I want you to know that, no matter what… I will never stop you from seeing them. How could I? They need you.

There couldn't be nothing about the custody. Scarlett would not have let nothing about it. Not after writing such a letter.

Oh, that was a terrible time. Four men were left. But if he waited too long, he gave also more time for his enemies to strike. For the moments, they stayed low, mostly undetectable. He needed them to act.

Baits… Yes, he needed baits. Without anything to loose, he was a fearsome figure, seemingly untouchable. But if he seemed less so… They would make mistakes.

Scarlett wouldn't like that. He did not like that either. But Scarlett wasn't here. And he knew what he was doing.

He paused in the dark, gathered his thoughts, and built his plans. Then he decided to act. And swiftly.

He took advantage of one day Henry Hamilton was away and slipped in his office, pretexting a meeting to his new secretary, who let him wait foolishly in it. At least, not as foolishly as he took the tip that was offered.

By God, if only he had met such a secretary during the War, Rhett thought, amused, he would certainly have been able to make more money. Some just tended to underestimate all the secrets that could be in the desk of a lawyer.

Rhett waited until the door was closed behind him, then rummaged through the desk, until finally he found it.

There it was. His hands almost shook with apprehension. He could almost laugh at it. It was like Henry Hamilton had wanted it to be found!

Maybe the sign of some hidden guilt. But no matter what, Rhett did not care as he read it.

Yes, that was what he thought, his heart beating with the appreciation of his new role, and the trust that had been placed in him. A sudden relief came to him. Yes, she had trusted him that much. She had loved him that much.

And he had almost let her down for that.

But not anymore.

He took the custody and put it in his satchel. Then he took care to rearrange the desk as before. The secretary watched him leave, uninterested.

He could get the boy now, the closest at the moment. But the boy would not follow him without the girl.

He went to the station with some of his men and left.

First stop to Fayetteville. To the boarding school for girls.

He looked at the building, almost hesitant, then went to get his girl. He called the tenant and demanded to see Ella.

His tone was so strong, so self-assured, that none dared questioning him. After all, he had only asked to see the girl… And who was she, that girl, by the way? An orphan that did not seem very talented, unremarkable among the others. Eyes a little too close, short nose and thin lips. And certainly too little for her age. But after all, it was said her mother was a drunkard and had killed her husband. So who could be surprised these sins marked the child so?

Yet, to the persons that were here to witness the scene, it was strange to see such a man, imposing and strong, await with nervous energy such a charmless urchin.

The custody was in his satchel, he had all the information now.

His will was stronger now that he was there, and when finally the teacher went back with Ella, his heart melted, filled with a love that he had underestimated the extent. Her green eyes, like her mother, but softer, innocent, widened and she blinked, as if not believing it.

"D… Uncle Rhett !"

He smiled encouragingly, his chest threatening to burst, and opened his arms for the girl to jump in.

"Come to daddy, my girl. We're going home."

"Mr. Butler, that is not to be born, I'll call…" The tenant, alerted by the cries, intervened.

"And you're going to stop me?" He laughed and raised, the girl put indecently on his shoulders. She squealed in delight and put her arms around him. "The girl goes with me. For I am her father."

"Her father?" She blinked. "No, you…"

He laughed. "I dare you to prove I'm wrong. I can get the papers more quickly than you can call that unfortunate Mister Hamilton."

And anyway, there was no one to stop him. With her in his arms, he felt stronger, closer to the man he had been before everything went down.

And well, there was still his employees by his side. Quite difficult to say no faced with such arguments, he thought cynically.

He turned away and left, smiling at her silly talking, and finding himself replying with some of his own.

Oh, he had almost forgotten how it tasted like, to be a father. And now, it was so suddenly back that he felt the rush of it, like a sweet on his tongue.

Yet, after some time, he felt the girl shifting uneasily when finally the boarding school was out of sight. Gone was the happy babbling, and now there was a silence filled of questions that begged to be answered.

With a sigh, he let her down and raised her chin toward him.

She bit her lip, before finally finding the courage to say it.

"Is it true?" Ella raised her bright eyes towards him, confused, but with an hopeful light that made him bite his lip. "You're my real dad?"

He sighed. He was tempted to say yes, but the ghost of Frank Kennedy wasn't one he could really bear. It awakened a slight guilt he thought long buried, a day when he had asked himself…

But that was over. He did not need to live with that.

"Not your dad by blood, sweet girl," though I wish I was . "But sometimes, the links of the heart are stronger than blood. The one who fathered you is named Frank Kennedy, and he loved you. But you're the daughter I choose, and I love you too. Do you understand it?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"I think so. But I thought… after Bonnie… You did not want me anymore."

He ruffled her red hair, a pang of guilt in his gut. He crouched at her side, putting his hands on her shoulders to keep her attention. It was difficult to talk, the image of his Bonnie Blue like a hand crushing his throat. Yet, he knew he had to reassure that little girl, that was dear to him as well.

"Listen to me, sweet-heart. I loved Bonnie. So, so much. It doesn't mean I do not want you. I will always want you. And I'm very sorry if I wasn't able to make you feel that during the times we were together. But… If you could give me another chance… I promise I would be the father you deserve. I'll take care of you, I…"

He could not continue, for the little girl had escaped his grip and jumped into his arms, her arms around his neck. He thought his heart stopped for a moment.

"Of course, I do, silly!" She cried, and he felt her tears on his neck as she buried her face against him. "You're the only daddy I ever had! There's no one else I want to stay with."

He smiled, and refrained from crying.

"I won't let you down. Not anymore."

And he meant it.

"You're going to get us all back together, right?"

"Yes, Wade will come with us."

She seemed about to say something, but then she stopped, her face distorted in a conflict that she did not seem to know how to explain.

"What is it, Ella?" He asked. "Do you doubt I can do it?"

"No!" She shook her head vehemently. "You can do anything!"

A roar of laughter escaped his lips, and he felt strangely relieved by this.

And so they went, and he settled her quite comfortably in his room when they reached Atlanta. Pork cried when he saw her back, and welcomed her quite enthusiastically. It was a touching scene to see, and Rhett let them at the hotel, warmed by it.

And then he went to surprise Henry Hamilton.

The man did not even seem surprised as he saw him in his office, waiting on his chair. He had been waiting for it, since the very day he decided to take the custody. Somehow, it felt easier to breathe now, with not that secret on him alone and the dishonest appearance it had.

Sharply, Henry Hamilton looked at Rhett Butler and judged. He needed to be the rational one. It was the best for him, the best for Wade.

And, well, he hoped Rhett would be as manageable as the day of the funerals. Though he very much doubted it.

At least, he did not seem angry. Which was quite queer, actually.

"You've taken the girl on your own, sir. That was highly inappropriate."

"And what about you, Hamilton?" Rhett jeered lightly, playing with a ruler that was straying in the desk. "You had no right to decide on your own. And I thought you were a man of honor. A man of the Law. My, my. What a shame."

The old man winced and looked away.

"Not my best move, maybe. But I did what I thought was right. It is my great-nephew's welfare we are talking about."

Reasonable enough. Now that he was more level-headed, Rhett could see it, even if it hurt. He had been a wreck, determinate to hate and be hated by everyone. A scene came before him, and he smiled wistfully. Scarlett trying to join him after another of these moments, when he had mocked over and over the Cause and the ones who believed in it.

She had wanted to come for him, he had thought at that moment. And now he did not doubt it.

And Wade, and Ella, who had always looked up to him…

He tapped on the desk with the ruler and continued. Hamilton would never be swayed by feelings, for he would find himself lacking, in a vulnerable state that he would not accept. Yet, reason could be the way.

"And he'll be well-cared for. As my son, he'll inherit all my properties, along with his mother's, and the few things your nephew kept for him. As a practical and reasonable man, I'm sure you'll see the advantage."

There, he had hit a good point, Rhett could see that. The man was hesitating.

"And where would you go? You're not accepted anymore in Atlanta."

"Well, it seems I have a bit of unexpected land near Jonesboro, after all… I'm sure the boy would like to live where his mother grew up."

Tara… Yes, they needed to go to Tara. To see the place where she was born, where she grew up. The place she fought for. The place she gave to him, a last undeniable proof of love. Would it have her essence? Would he find the shadow of her frame here, waiting for him?

Just like Scarlett to find the loop in a contract, or to overlook it completely, he could not help but think. She never played by his rules if she could do differently. And made sure to defy it when he produced the ban before her.

A wild card, indeed.

But if he could only get closer… If he could see with his own eyes… Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Maybe the thought of her wouldn't have such a aching grip on his heart, and he would be able to go on. Not moving on from here, for there not such option to consider for him. But at least he could live, and care for these children he loved, these children that were hers and that were his, not quite the products of their love, but love all the same. The children who had seen them both in their greatest moments and their worst, and still… Ella had accepted him, unconditionally. But Wade? The boy had grown up, and had been a direct witness to some of his cruelties against his mother. And his words… Oh, like his mother, he was able to deliver words that stung the most at the most unexpected time. And like his mother, there had been this beginning of coldness, worn like a mask.

Was it too late?

He had to try.

"That doesn't mean I trust you," Henry Hamilton finally said.

"And I am far from trusting you, with that little stunt you pulled. Yet, it is Wade's welfare we are talking about."

Henry's eyes lowered, considering, and Rhett smirked. He had won.

…

Wade looked through the newspaper with a mixture of disappointment and worry.

Pansy had said… Yes, she had said so. She would not have said so if it wasn't true, she was not that kind of person, thinking that children needed lies to go on.

Yet, no news today. Just like yesterday. And the day before. He sighed. And Pansy wasn't there anymore.

Oh, curse Uncle Henry! Curse all these dull books he wanted him to read, all these rules and habits he had to respect!

He put the paper away with a frustrated sigh.

He couldn't do anything here. He was powerless, a boy knowing a lot, but not being able to do anything about it!

Yet, in this world, it seemed he could only count on himself…

Uncle Henry would certainly come back in a few hours. He could not find any issue here. A few hours, maybe it would be enough time to escape… And maybe, he could find Ella and leave with her…

Yet, Uncle Peter was still guarding the door like a well-tamed dog.

But there were other ways than the front door…

With that resolution, he went to his room and gathered his things. The wind was moist as he opened the window and looked around. He climbed it, the foot almost out.

A knock on the door almost made him loose his footing. He froze. Had Uncle Henry arrived sooner than expected?

Swiftly, he went back to the room, hid his bag and shut the window.

He waited, his ears alert to the sounds of quarrels on the ground floor.

It wasn't Uncle Henry, that for sure.

He opened the door of his room to hear more, and his heart stopped.

Uncle Rhett! He had come!

Wade froze. Then composed himself. He went down the stairs quietly, ignoring Uncle Peter's protests.

His former caregiver tipped his hat in his direction.

"Well, as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted," He jeered. "I went to get you back, boy. It had been decided you were under my protection now."

There was on his face a smile that filled him with nostalgia, and Wade found his resolve wavering.

"Wade…" He added, and there was a tone of sincerity in his tone, this time. "Would you mind give another chance to an old pirate?"

Wade stood still, not answering. He was thinking, deeply, his brow furrowing as he did so.

Ella went to him eagerly from behind Rhett's back and pulled him by the sleeve of his shirt. Wade blinked. Ella! He had gotten Ella back!

She was smiling, that darling little fool, so trusting, and he envied her for that. Yet, how could she be able to, with everything that had happened?

"Wade! It's time to go home, now!"

His eyes widened, his heart skipped a beat. Home, yes, he wanted that. He wanted that very much. But was there a home to be found? He hoped so, yet feared to hope.

He pursed his lips then raised his head towards Rhett, meeting his eyes. And somehow, he felt it, that unwavering faith creeping inside of him, almost like a disease. He tried to fight it, but could not. So he squared his shoulders defiantly and answered.

"You're still in trouble, ser."

Rhett roared in laughter. "You're your mother's boy, alright. Fine, I'll prove myself to you, Wade. I promise."

Wade flustered but maintained his gaze. His fist clenched, he joined them behind his back.

Ella fidgeted at his side, her feet swinging backward, then upward, her gaze insistent on Wade, and he wanted to pull her hair for that. Oh, why wasn't she more discreet?

He shook his head discreetly toward her. No, she couldn't. They couldn't trust him for the moment.

And then, when finally he found the composure to, he asked.

"Where shall we be going, ser?"

Rhett smirked and revealed the location, yet his heart fluttered with the sense of new beginnings and expectations. At this, Wade realized he had the answer to his questions. His eyes gleamed as he heard the words.

"To Tara, son. To Tara."