Rhett staggered as he slowly made his way down the dark Atlanta street. His cravat askew, he mumbled to himself drunkenly as he righted his long, heavy frame and squinted at the uneven cobblestones under his feet.
It had been two months and six days since Bonnie was torn from him. Every day there had been more and more drinking to forget. Trying to forget his love of Scarlett, trying to forget his daughter, trying to forget the past years and pretend none of it had ever happened.
As Rhett passed a pitch dark alley, three large forms broke off from the shadows and started following him.
He was suddenly aware through his mental haze there were footsteps behind him, rapidly gaining. As he spun to meet them, one hit him squarely in the chin. Immediately, six hands were on him, pummeling him down, holding him as they went through his pockets.
One of the attackers, his bald head shining in the dark, held up Rhett's watch. It was the watch Bonnie had loved to play with, her picture was inside.
"Give that back to me", Rhett snarled through bloodied lips. Had he been sober and ten years younger, he may of made it out of the situation the victor. This time, though...
He braced himself for a bad beating, and had an involuntary thought that if he died, perhaps he'd see Bonnie again. Usually, the afterlife was a foolish notion, but lately, he had wanted to believe.
Suddenly, the street lit up with a brilliant, pulsing violet light. Silently, although it was as bright as a lightning strike, the flash illuminated every corner, and slowly faded away.
Rhett turned his head, and realized the men were no longer beating him. They were not even holding him. They were frozen, with the exception of an occasional blink. He slowly got up, and realized the men were not moving, not even an inch. It was as though they had been turned to statues which could only blink and breathe.
"What the...?" He exhaled.
As his eyes became accustomed to the dark again, he noticed the figure of a lady coming toward him. Short, with a round figure and large dark eyes. She laughed, tilted her head quizzically as she looked him up and down, and asked "Are you Captain Rhett Butler?"
"I... yes Ma'm". Rhett was nauseated and dizzy, falling clumsily on an orange crate as he tried to stand. Suddenly, the lady was beside him, touching him with a long, cold steel rod. He felt a pulse of strange energy course through his body.
As swiftly as a breath, he was sober. Sober, and looking down in amazement at his hands. His knuckles had smashed against the brick wall of the alley as he tried to wrestle with the biggest thug. He heard a "crunch" and felt two fingers break as they clawed at each other.
His cuffs were spattered with blood. Dark red liquid was crusting on the golden cufflinks. But his hands... were now white and clean and totally healed. So were all his other wounds. He could not remember the last time he felt this vibrant and healthy.
For one of the few times in his life, Rhett was completely speechless and utterly in shock.
He looked over at his assailants, still as statues, then at the lady. Her dress was very modest and conservative, obviously not from any nearby bordello or saloon. She looked to be in her 30's, with a long, but fairly attractive face. Upturned nose, brown hair and eyes. The eyes were sparkling as she looked at Rhett like a long lost friend.
"Who the Hell are you?" Rhett finally managed.
"I think I have a lot of explaining to do. Please come this way and I will tell you everything". She turned and started down the alley to a rickety shack. The door was slightly ajar, and Rhett could see light pouring out.
For a moment, he paused. Was this a dream? Did he actually die, sustain a concussion, or was he at Belle's, with a cool cloth on his head, sweating out a fever?
Then he realized, he really had nothing left to loose, and followed her into the shack.
