Whoa, it's been a long time since I've decided to grace this story with an update. But, I now have a handle on how I want this story to pan out, which is, for me, a huuuuge step. So, once again, I apologize for not updating sooner, but I hope everyone likes this chapter. Sorry it isn't longer, but at least it's something…(winkwink)

DISCLAIMER: nada about sums up what I own.

"'Scarlett, what happened out there had nothing to do with love. It was a celebration of survival, that's all. You see it after every battle in wartime. The men who don't get killed fall on the first woman they see and prove they're still alive by using her body. In this case you used mine, too, because you'd narrowly escaped dying. It had nothing to do with love!'"

--Rhett to Scarlett in Scarlett, by Alexandra Ripley, page 317, chapter 32.

Chapter 2

Scarlett wiped the sweat from her brown using her forearm. She glanced down at her reflection in the water and almost jumped backwards. That woman staring back at her couldn't possibly be Scarlett O'Hara. That woman looked scary. Downright common. Her long black tresses were scooped into a messy bun on the top of her head and her face was almost tanned. Her prized pale complexion was no more than a dream away now.

Work at Tara was rough. She had little help; the girls were recovering and Tara's house servants were greatly offended by being asked to do the work of a field hand.

But she had done it. Yes, somehow, she had done it. She had survived the war. She had gotten safely home to Tara. She had won that battle, yet she was left battle-sore in more ways than even she herself was aware of. There was now a hardness in her green eyes that had not been there during even the worst of her previous transgressions. The teasing and flirtatious eyes others once recognized as Scarlett's had been replaced. They were now warning signs, screaming at others to keep their distance.

Tara had become somewhat of a refuge for Confederate soldiers on their way home. It had been Melly's warm-hearted idea, and Scarlett was none too pleased with the nasty, unshaven, and unkempt men sleeping on her porch. She wasn't surprised to see another lone man walking up the dirt pathway to Tara's now-worn front steps.

"Damn it," she swore softly to herself, angry at the prospect of feeding yet one more mouth. Tearing herself out of her reverie by the well, she walked to the front steps, not bothering to smooth down her rumpled dress or fly-away curls. From her vantage point, this man looked slightly different than the others. There was something about his presence that made her feel safe and endangered at the same time. Stepping several feet closer, she saw the man's face and felt her stomach drop out of her body as she sucked in her breath. She uttered another curse in her mind and stepped forward to greet that obnoxious, all-too-familiar Rhett Butler.

"Rhett."

"Scarlett."

"Well, if I had known you were coming I'd have fixed the place up," Scarlett commented sarcastically.

"It's quite alright, Scarlett. My appearance, however, is not fit to be viewed in the presence of a lady such as yourself," he grinned. "If you'll allow me to clean up, perhaps we might talk?"

"I'll have Mammy prepare you some bath water," Scarlett replied to his teasing matter-of-factly. Walking away, her mind began to spin and her stomach to churn.

"Mammy," she vaguely heard herself call, "please fetch our Mr. Butler here some water."

Mammy looked at Scarlett strangely, shaking her head, not sure what at yet, but knowing it was about to be for something, and walked away to fetch the water.

Scarlett's mind was speeding faster than it had in weeks. It had been four months since she had seen Rhett. He gave her the same feelings now as if nothing had come between them, even time. Walking briskly up the stairs, Scarlett knocked on the first door. Inside the small room, all was quiet but for a small voice that called out, "Yes? Come in."

"Hello, Melly. How are you feeling today, darling?" Her words were mechanic. They meant nothing. She didn't hear Melanie's answer. "Rhett's here," she blurted out.

"Oh, Captain Butler!" Melly's kind face lit up and a smile spread across her simple but elegant features. "Is he staying long?"

I hope not, Scarlett couldn't help but think to herself.

"I don't know yet. He wanted to wash up first…Melly, what should I do?"

"Offer him the guest bedroom. Make him welcome. We practically owe him our lives, darling."

"Miss Scarlett!" Scarlett heard Mammy beckoning her from the foyer.

"I'll be back, Melly."

Closing the door gently, Scarlett walked slowly down the stairs, thinking that the slower she walked, the better she would be able to think.

It didn't help.

"Mistah Butler want to talk to yous, Miss Scarlett. He on the porch."

"Thank you, Mammy, she murmured before approaching the deserted porch. Where had all the other men gone? There were three there this morning. Had they left without as much as a thank you? This was why Scarlett never went out of her way to be nice. She never got anything out of it.

"Rhett, I see you cleaned up. You look much less...you look better."

"Thank you, I think."

Breathing a deep sigh, she pushed the rest of her words from her throat where they seemed to have gotten stuck. "Do you need a place to stay? Is that why you're here? We have room—Melanie and I are grateful for all of your help," she forced out, biting back harsher comments.

"Actually, that would be wonderful."

"We have a guest bedroom you would be welcome to."

"Ah, a bed. I haven't slept in a bed in months," he winked at her.

What was that supposed to mean?

"Follow me, and I'll show you where it is. You're welcome to rest before dinner." She left out the part about dinner being the same meager grub every night.

Rhett didn't reply and Scarlett took that to mean he gave his consent. She began the uncharacteristically long walk up the stairs, inwardly sighing with every step.

The guest bedroom was right next to her bedroom.

REVIEW! Please? That'd be beyond great!