Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of Margaret Mitchell, her heirs, and their assigns.

NB: This chapter involves more alcohol abuse.

Charleston, SC, Winter, 1880

Once Rhett knew where to look, it was absurdly easy to find Katie Scarlett McLure, née O'Hara, on the Dixon County tax roll. Within weeks he had a copies of the plats of her land and knew its assessed value as a cotton farm and that she was up to date on all of her taxes. Interesting, that if one were to overlay a map of Atlanta onto a map of Houston, it would be similarly situated to Jonesboro, Georgia. Scarlett was there, and he would go there, too.

Rhett had only been in East Texas once. It was a horrible place, full of crawling creatures and a sort of breathless humidity that made one long for the comparatively arid Atlantic coast. The Houston he remembered was fairly young, not too many years older than Scarlett's beloved Atlanta. It had no past and no sense of gentility.

He looked around his study and considered his current life. Charleston's past and sense of gentility had done nothing good for him. He was trapped in a prison he'd almost freely walked into. He could only imagine what Houston was now, and what it would think of a woman like Scarlett. He looked at the paper again. He could only imagine who this Kate McLure was.

Caroline walked into the breakfast room on a morning in late March and stared at him. "What, no whisky?"

"I'm going on a trip today."

"Where are we going?"

"You're not coming, my jailer. I took you on our honeymoon. That's enough marital bliss to last me until my next marriage."

"Read the fine print of your agreement with my father, darling. This is the only marriage you're going to have, unless I die."

Rhett looked up at her balefully. "I can arrange that, my dear harridan, but not today. I'm booked solid. I have travel plans, and you no doubt have some scintillating committee meeting or soiree to attend."

"Where are you going?" She looked at him with narrowed eyes.

He grinned. "That's my business."

"I'm your wife, so it's my business, too."

Rhett grinned more broadly. "Yes, my fair burden, you're my wife, and according to the laws of this state your business is my business, but my business is not your business in the least."

Caroline's face scrunched up. "Does it have to do with the O'Hara brat's visit last month?"

"Wade's last name is Hamilton, and he's anything but a brat. He's a young gentleman from one of Atlanta's finest families. My trip may or may not have to do with his visit. Again, it's none of your business."

"He told you where to find her, didn't he? That's why you aren't drunk off your feet the last two weeks, isn't it?"

"He didn't tell me, no. In fact he was quite loyal to his mother, who doesn't want to be found."

"This trip has something to do with her. How dare you, when you're married to me?"

"I was married to her first. One might say she has the first right of refusal."

Caroline's face scrunched up even more, and her eyes got red. "You know who does the refusing around here."

Rhett nodded in mock sympathy. "Yes, my ball and chain, your lot is surely a hard one." He snapped his newspaper out in front of himself and pulled out his watch. Caroline stood there for a full minute and then stomped out of the room. "Weren't you going to eat your breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry." She stopped at the doorway. Rhett glanced around the paper and saw that her fists were clenched.

"It's not like you to be so delicate, my sweet battleaxe... by chance, are you in a delicate condition? That would solve at least one of my problems nicely. I could put off my plans for a day or two to discuss it with your father and my lawyers."

She whirled around again, but only saw the newspaper. Rhett chuckled cruelly. This time he heard her run up the stairs. He closed his watch and opened the back cover. it was engraved "Your loving wife Caro" and their wedding date, but the photograph of Caroline had been replaced by Scarlett as soon as he got home from his honeymoon and could go through his box of personal items to find the watch Scarlett once had given him for Christmas with her picture in it. Scarlett's picture was put in the new watch and Caroline's was put in the fire.

"Soon, my sweet," he whispered.

Dixon County, TX, Winter 1880

Katie Scarlett McLure sent her telegram in a fit of pique and repented of her haste almost immediately. She spent the next several weeks pacing across her neat yard and worrying over it, from the big house she built to the five-room house the previous owners left, around to the shed, across to the stable, around to the other house they'd built for Mahala and Herman.

She looked around her farm, coming to life with the spring. As long as there weren't too many rainy days, they'd get everything planted as she planned for. As long as they got a good price for the cotton this year, they would make a good profit. She could pay down that mortgage and feel just a little freer of the men who kept her money. There was much to be proud of, much to be content with. If only she didn't have Rhett hanging over her head.

Maybe Rhett just wanted to know where she was. Perhaps he just wanted some idea of where he could find her in case of an emergency, for example… Under what circumstances would he want her to know about anything? She shrugged to herself. He didn't care. The way he'd left her, the way he'd raised her hopes and her faith in him only to smash those hopes… that wasn't a man who wanted to be able to contact her in case he broke his leg.

Maybe Rhett wanted to know where she was to avoid her. That sounded more like him. The way he'd acted on the two visits before it happened, he might not want her shadow to darken his boots. He'd treated her as the least desirable person in the world. It was closer but still didn't ring true. If he wanted to avoid her, he was in luck because she hadn't been east since she came to Texas. He obviously didn't need to know where she was to avoid her.

He was coming.

It was the only answer that made sense to her. He was coming, and he would discover all of her secrets, and God help her if he decided to act about it the way he did about Ashley working at the mill. He would see what she'd made of her life and be angry. At the very least, he would yell at her and mock her and use his sarcasm and biting wit to make her feel stupid. At worst he would—she took a deep breath and tried not to think of the worst. If she had to think of it, it could wait until another day, until he actually did what she feared.

The last time Rhett had seen Scarlett, he'd broken her heart.

July, 1874

He took a bottle of champagne, a bottle of brandy, and their divorce paperwork to the Peachtree Street house on their wedding anniversary. He stepped over the threshold in trepidation, unsure of whether he could carry out this task, then mentally scolded himself. There was so much that depended upon his getting it done. He had to see it out.

When Scarlett got home, exhausted and looking weary with life, his heart went out to her. He greeted her in the parlor. "Happy anniversary, my dear Mrs. Butler," he said. Her whole face had lit up. He was dressed for the occasion and it was clear she readily believed in the happy ending his appearance would indicate. She was so easy. "The children will be eating upstairs and going to bed without us. Would you care to dress for dinner?" He smiled convincingly and she ran up the stairs. Where there had been a listless, sad woman just a moment before, there was now a jubilant one, hurrying to comply with his request.

She was so beautiful when she came down, wearing one of his favorite evening gowns, a green satin that complimented her eyes and caught the lamplight. He'd bought her the pendant she was wearing and matching ear-rings on their honeymoon, and the memories of that time came crashing back. He wavered at the sight of her and then decided to enjoy the evening. He knew what he had to do, but it didn't mean he couldn't take a little pleasure in it, and Scarlett would never know the difference.

"My love, your beauty always hits me clean through," he said honestly. He offered her his arm and walked her to the dining room.

"You do run on," she said, breathlessly.

The two place settings had been placed at one end of the long table, one at the head, and the other just to the side of it. He'd asked the cooks to prepare her favorite foods. The evening would be perfect.

He poured the champagne for her and watched her eat, too nervous to take more than a few bites himself. She looked like she could use it. She must not eat very well with him away. He asked her about her day at work and she smiled brightly while describing how well she was doing at the store. She kept eating and drinking, and he kept pouring the champagne and nodding to the maid who kept bringing out more courses.

Finally, even Scarlett was done. He'd done everything he could to get her into a frame of mind to cooperate. They went into the parlor, where he sat her on the one settee he could stand to use. On the coffee table before them were the documents for the divorce.

She knew what they were the instant she saw them, and he could feel the sense of crushing betrayal wash through her. She rushed over to a spittoon and lost every bite of her dinner. Tears came to his eyes as he handed her his handkerchief and held her. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead as he would have done in the past. It wasn't the first time that it crossed his mind to stop the madness. They shouldn't need a divorce as long as she felt like this in his arms. He forced himself to think of what was on the line if he didn't go through with this. He forced himself to swallow and see it through. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away.

"We need to do this, Scarlett. I need you to sign the paperwork."

"I can't—" she whispered.

"Don't make me sue you," he said quietly. "Don't drag this out. It's going to happen one way or another." He poured her some of the brandy.

"Why?" she asked. "You said we didn't have to do this. You said you'd come to Atlanta to keep down the talk." She thought for a moment. "All of it was a lie, wasn't it? You were just saying whatever it would take to make me let you go. Even telling me you once loved me… was that a lie?"

He couldn't answer and lowered his head.

Her lower lip trembled as she looked around the parlor. "I've been so good. I've tried to follow kinder practices at the store, I've taken care of Beau, even though I want to beat Ashley with my bare hands, I've tried to support Melly's charities, all while taking better care of my children. I'm not a good mother yet, but I'm a better one. All of that was wasted, wasn't it?"

If he was pleasantly surprised, he couldn't show it. He looked over her head at the wall. It was a mistake. A portrait of Bonnie hung there, the product of his love for this woman. "It wasn't wasted for the people you've helped, Scarlett." He opened the file and pulled out the first of the pages they needed to sign. "It proves that I was always a bad influence on you and you're better off without me." He refilled her glass and handed it back to her.

"It's not true," she said with a trembling voice.

He took a pen out of his breast pocket and unscrewed it. His signature was already on all of the pages. It just needed hers. "Scarlett, my dear, please."

"But I love you, Rhett." Tears filled her eyes.

"I know," he said. "I need you to do this, my dear. I'm begging you."

He refilled her glass and left it on the table, pushed the papers a little closer. She looked at him, tears overflowing, and signed the first one: Katie Scarlett Butler. She worked her way through all of the pages where she had to sign under his name, finally reaching the last page, the last time she would ever sign this name: Katie. Scarlett. Butler. It was done. He should feel relief, but the loss was uppermost at the moment.

"Thank you, my pet."

"I'm not your pet any more. I'm nothing." She shot back the brandy in the glass and stood up. "I still feel like Scarlett Butler, but now I don't exist."

She went and sat on the stairs, not three feet from where she'd landed the day she almost died. Pulling out her own handkerchief she leaned against the banister and sobbed for several minutes. He reorganized the papers in his valise and set them on the table by the door. He couldn't leave her like that, so he gently stood her on her feet and guided her upstairs. He took the brandy up with them. It would be a long night.

The night ended, and he knew he had to leave before she woke. He dressed quickly and picked up the valise. He opened the front door and looked around the hallway. This house had contained so much happiness, so much misery, so much of his life. He stepped over the sill and heard her first scream as he shut the door.

1880, Dixberg Texas

The shriek of the engine woke him. He was here. Like most of the small towns he'd visited, Rhett found a hotel where he left his suitcases, and a livery stable, where he could rent a horse and get directions. The owner was quite familiar with the Tara Farm and its proprietress. He assumed Rhett was traveling for business purposes.

"That Katie is a fine woman. She'll deal honestly with you, whether it's horses or cotton."

"Thank you," said Rhett without stating his purpose for visiting.

A/N: Once again we're using a Hoagy Carmichael song, and there are more of his songs to come, but I promise this won't be the Hoagy Carmichael songbook. There are quite a few good covers out there, but I'm partial to the Nelson Riddle arrangement that backed Linda Ronstadt.

Congratulations to all of you who fell in love with Caroline for whatever reason. On the strength of your love, she wormed her way into a lengthy section of this chapter. I will point out that the Carolinas have many Carols, Carolls, Carolines, Carlys, Charlottes, Caros, and Carries. So Caroline's name is a no brainer, and her father's name is Charles, not that it will come up for at least half a dozen chapters.

And, last but not least, I've been playing with dates. We know from the canon that they announced their engagement after the election that would have been November of 1868. Most likely Rhett would have gotten her to the altar or city hall within two or three months after that. I have reasons for setting their wedding date in July of 1869, knowing that it messes up some of the canon.

As always, you're all too kind. Thank you, dear readers and reviewers, including Romabeachgirl1981, Aethelfraed, Guest 1 & 2, gogomohamad229, gabyhyatt, COCO B, beautifulliar326, Truckee Gal, pro patria mori, gumper, and Phantom710. You make my inbox sing.