Rhett looked at her blankly for a moment. Blinking, as though in a trance, he turned and slowly looked at his surroundings, then back at Miss. Treadwell.

"I believe the time has come for me to go", he said slowly. Top hat back on head, he was at the door in three strides.

"Wait!" cried Miss. Treadwell. "Please! I can prove what I say!"

But her words were lost on Rhett. He had had enough. More than enough. He now knew his mind had snapped. He would go home, take an early morning bath, and have a nice, long sleep.

Then he would think about a way to do something positive. He needed to move forward with his life, perhaps finally get away from the torture which was his marriage. What was that his soon to be ex-wife always said? "Tomorrow was another day?"

It would not be easy to leave behind someone he had loved for years, but it was obviously affecting his sanity. Life had been very cruel of late, but living in an asylum was something else altogether. He walked rapidly down the street toward the rising sun.

Lisa sighed, arms crossed, in the doorway of the shack. She would have to be patient, but there wasn't much time. Rhett would be back, and she would need to be ready.

And then there was the matter of those thugs. Who were they working for? She needed to question them one by one, and wipe their memories. They could just be common alley thieves, or they could be from...somewhere else.

But she searched the alley to no avail. The three figures she had frozen were gone without a trace, confirming her worst fears.

Scarlett impatiently brushed her dark hair. She had been up long before sunrise, and the lack of sleep was showing under her eyes. She snapped at the servant bringing her breakfast tray, not caring about the sullen looks discreetly thrown her way. Mammy had gone home to Tara, leaving Scarlett to cope alone. Rhett was gone, as always these days. Ella and Wade also avoided her.

She felt like a fly caught in molasses. But she knew better than to show it. Everyone was always waiting for her to fail, to break apart under pressure. She missed Bonnie more than she thought possible, but life went on, happy or not.

Scarlett sipped coffee from a delicate cup, festooned with a tiny, hand painted figure of a man and woman. He was in old-fashioned clothing, leggings and a white wig, kneeling at her feet. She was laughing and holding a rose out to him. She remembered a time when that could of been her. For a moment, she wanted to smash the cup and its contents on the floor.

But she caught herself, and slipped on a sky blue, embroidered silk robe as she heard Rhett slam his bedroom door.

Rhett soaked in his warm bath. He didn't want to look down at his belly, but he would have to face what he saw at some point.

He had asked Pork to draw his bath. It had taken some time, as usual, to warm the water and fill the tub. In that time, he had not been able to stop thinking about the woman in the alley, and what had happened.

He was also thinking of a friend he had not seen in twenty-some years. Herbert Hinton Hill the Third. He was the first son of a prominent Charleston family, and poised to inherit a large estate. They had a raucous time gambling and carousing together as their youth led them from one adventure to another. He was even thinking of going into business with ol' Herbert after his father threw him out for not marrying that girl he'd gotten stuck with in the buggy.

But, in a matter of only a few months, Herbert changed from the handsome, jovial companion of their revels to someone who saw and heard things which simply weren't there. The change had been gradual at first, but it rapidly became too noticeable to ignore.

They were riding home in the middle of the night, lit by a full moon. Herbert had been joking about how fat one of the ladies had been at Miss. Morton's bordello.

"She was so fat, when she sat around the house, she sat AROUND the house!" He had shouted the punchline, full of Tennessee whiskey and mirth. And then, he had stopped, staring. Rhett saw nothing in the night and rode on a little ahead, until he heard Herbert scream "STOP!" in an uncharacteristically high pitched way.

Rhett had looked back and saw Herbert's face full of terror. His pistol was drawn, and, before Rhett could react, he shot twice, with great accuracy, past Rhett's right shoulder.

"Stop, you damn fool!" Rhett had shouted, trying to reign in his panicking mount. He rode up to Herbert, who was weeping openly.

"I think I got it." sobbed Herbert, "it was about to eat your head." Rhett had looked at him and at that moment realized something had slipped in Herbert's mind.

"What almost got me, Herbert?" Rhett asked gently, still half hoping this was some sort of elaborate prank.

"The thing with three heads." whispered Herbert. "It's been following us since we left town. It follows me a lot these days. I don't know what it wants," he continued hoarsely, "but it has those red, glowing eyes, and..."

At that point, Rhett took the reigns of Herbert's horse, and they rode to his house. After a hushed conversation with Herbert's father, who was none too happy to be woken up to his son's breakdown, Rhett took his leave. He only saw Herbert one more time. He visited him in an "advanced" asylum which featured the latest treatments more resembling medieval torture than something designed to heal the mind and soul.

It was with this in mind he looked down at his belly. His smooth, scar-free belly. Free of a scar from a knife fight in the gold rush days. A scar which was impossible to remove, and yet, it was gone.

He would have to go back to that alley and make himself face reality. No, he didn't want to end up like Herbert. At the sudden knock of the door, he started.

"Let me in Rhett", Scarlett said impatiently. "I need to talk to you."

"In a minute." Rhett heaved out of the bath, wrapping a thick robe around his body with a lithe movement he could suddenly accomplish with unaccustomed ease.

Opening the door, he saw Scarlett and realized as he felt better, she was not. Her eyes were puffy, and, although her usual frown was in place, there was an air of sadness he had never noticed before in the lines of her face. She was only in her late 20's, but her face somehow reminded him of a woman in her 60's, full of too much unwanted pain and knowledge. He felt a momentary stab of sympathy, then reminded himself it would do no good. She never wanted that from him.

She had only wanted to discuss a servant she suspected of stealing. After a little investigating, an expensive set of silverware she assumed was gone had simply been put aside for cleaning. Scarlett had been so restless since Bonnie's death, it was almost like she was making up things to be unhappy about, not that she'd ever crack like Herbert.

Rhett reflected as he rode down to the part of town he'd come from that morning. She was made of much sterner stuff, a quality he used to love in her, but now only made him think she simply was not capable of deeper feeling.

He tied his horse in front of the Fair Haired Lady, a run-down saloon, and walked to the alley on the left side. He was pretty sure this was it. The Fair Haired Lady had a strange and distinctly ugly carved wooden sign with a badly rendered woman holding a rose. It was a good landmark, even for the very drunk.

He went back and saw the shack from last night. Drawing a deep breath, he walked up to it, and opened the door.

There was nothing but a dirt floor, scattered tools, and some burlap bags.

"That does it." Rhett said softly, turning away and walking slowly up the alley. He would leave tonight, and put all this insanity behind him.

But, somehow, he wasn't surprised when he heard a voice behind him say "Rhett! Wait!"