Scarlett stared straight ahead and tried to forget everyone present. She had endured the comments and the condolences from the people of the town. The Meades. The Merriwethers. The Elsings. The Whitings. The Bonnells. The very people who had gone out of their way to shun her were now embracing her and telling her how much she was loved. The irony was not lost on Scarlett that the same women that were wrapping her so cozily in their cocoon of friendship now had been speaking behind loosely-cupped fingers of how hanging was too good for her just days before. There had only been a few she felt really consoled by.

Melanie.

She had run to Scarlett that first morning…after. She had thrown her tiny arms around Scarlett's quivering shoulders and sobbed into her chest. Scarlett hadn't been able to cry. Carreen had arrived the next day, and Scarlett had finally found it in herself to cry into her younger sister's arms. It was strange that she should find comfort in her younger sister. Perhaps it was because when she had walked into Scarlett's room that afternoon, she had looked so like Scarlett's sainted mother. As if her mother were reincarnated in her sister…Carreen had patted her head and crooned words to her that Ellen had when they were both younger. Scarlett closed her eyes and pretended that it was Ellen. It helped…

Suellen couldn't make it to the funeral. Scarlett would have been surprised if she had even attempted to come…

Someone squeezed her hand. Scarlett looked down to see her small, white hand engulfed by a very large, brown one. Rhett. Dear God, how would she have gotten through any of this without him. She looked up at him. He was looking at the priest, his face was drawn and intent. He had been grave and somber in this same way for the past few days. And it was strange, because Scarlett felt as if he were a different man without that impenetrable mask. It was as if she were seeing him for the very first time. And he wasn't sarcastic or cruel. He was a man, who had a heart. And it could break…it had broken.

Scarlett watched him for a moment. Rhett felt her gaze on him and turned to look at her. That was all, and it was enough. For years, Scarlett had been unable to understand anything about Rhett. She had been unable to see his emotions and unable to comprehend his actions. But now, in just one look, she could see everything he was feeling.

He was suffering. She knew that he was suffering just as much as she was…if not more so, for he was the one who had found little Wade outside of the barn.

The whole house had been awakened by the great light outside of the house. Scarlett had been awakened by some of the servants. Everyone ran outside but was at a loss of what to do. The barn was burning to the ground, but the horses were free. That's when Ella asked: "Where is Wade?"

Scarlett had looked around for her boy. Where was Wade? He wasn't anywhere in sight. For some unknown reason, a coil of anxiousness began to wind tightly in her stomach. She ran up the stairs and into the nursery, hoping that he was still in bed and hadn't been awakened as the rest of the household. But he wasn't there.

By the time she had come back down the stairs, Rhett was home. He had seen the smoke from town and had raced back. He was walking with Wade's little broken body in his arms. He was still alive then. Rhett had yelled for someone to go get a doctor. But the doctor was too late.

Scarlett would never again feel anguish like she had felt when Dr. Meade officially announced that her boy was dead. The whispered words from the sorrowful doctor had barely registered in Scarlett's mind. "Trampled…chest crushed…must have rolled out of the way…"

Scarlett had kept her eyes on Rhett. As Doctor Meade had explained the situation, he had continued to run his hands through his unkempt hair. Mammy had stood in the corner, soft sobs racking her large body. She occasionally pulled up the well-worn apron from around her waist and wiped her eyes. Scarlett didn't know when everyone had left, when they had put Ella back to bed, or who was taking care of her youngest daughter. The only thing that she remembered was that in the next room her boy lay on a mattress, dead. And she and Rhett were suddenly alone.

Rhett had buried his face in his hands and, heedless of those around him, had cried. He did not sob. He did not merely mourn for mourning sake. But genuine tears of sadness had slowly rolled down his cheeks, onto the elaborate carpet.

She just stood there and watched him cry. A few minutes later—or perhaps a few hours…she wasn't sure—he had lifted his head. His eyes were red but vacant of tears. He looked straight ahead, refusing to look her in the eye. Now that she thought back on it, she wondered if he had been ashamed that he had cried in front of her. Perhaps he had thought that she had left from the room and allowed himself to mourn for the boy who had been like his son. She couldn't be sure, and she never would be. She would never ask him…

"He asked something about 'Amistad'," he said softly.

Amistad?

"He said that he just wanted Amistad to stay. He asked if she was fine." Rhett ran his hand over his face. "I didn't know what to say. I didn't know who it was. I told him yes, but…" Rhett sighed. "I didn't know what to say. He was so…" Grief distorted his usually calm face, and Scarlett felt as if she were in the room with a stranger.

"I think it was the horse," he said. Scarlett walked to the window, and looked out at the smoldering ashes of what had been their barn. The horses grazed in the yard. She spotted the pony and turned away.

She walked out of the room and somehow ended up in her room. She lay down in her bed and fell asleep. She had refused to leave the room until today. That was two days ago…

"I am the way, the truth, the life. No man cometh unto the Father but by me…" the priest continued to speak over the tiny, closed casket in the parlor of the Butler home. Scarlett had insisted that her boy was going to be buried at Tara. Next to his grandpa. Mammy had protested but relented when Scarlett threatened never to leave her bedroom until her boy was taken to Tara. She had compromised when Melanie had come to talk to her. She had agreed to a small service in Atlanta, and then a burial service at Tara.

Scarlett looked away from Rhett, but squeezed his fingers slightly as she did. Her heart dropped for a moment when he shifted his hand but it jumped back to life when he entwined their fingers. She tightened her hold on his hand, as if warning him not to move it again. He gripped her hand firmly. He wasn't going to let go.

And he hadn't.

That first morning, when she had awoken, he had been by her side. He would sit with her while she slept, and when she would wake up, he would softly kiss her forehead before walking out the door. She never understood why he would leave. But she never pondered it. And though she wanted him to stay, she was too withdrawn into herself to reason how to make that happen.

She looked at their tightly clasped hands and wondered when they had joined. Had he clasped her hand first? Had she clasped his first? It didn't seem to matter anymore…it just was. It was natural.

She looked up to see that the priest was praying. She stared at him as he spoke recognizable words that she couldn't seem to register. Others started to recite with him, but she couldn't recall the familiar words though she had known them all of her life.

And then it was over.

And there were more people.

She refused to feel anything but the warmth of the hand in hers. She supposed that was why it was such a shock when it was suddenly gone. Her hand was empty and she frantically twisted around to look at the place where her husband had been standing. But he had disappeared. She turned back around and she saw Melanie and Ashley coming towards her.

"Oh Scarlett…" Melanie whispered as she grabbed Scarlett and sobbed into her shoulder. Scarlett hugged her back tightly, closing her eyes at the feel of her friend's miniature hands smoothing down her back.

Melanie pulled back and looked into Scarlett's face. Only when Melanie's hands started to wipe the wetness from her face did Scarlett realize that she was crying. She stared at Melanie for a moment, struck suddenly and for the first time by the resemblance between Melanie and her boy. Her heart suddenly constricted, and a sharp ache filled her chest.

Ashley was behind Melanie. Scarlett looked at him. He reached for her. Scarlett stared at him for a moment, but then looked past him.

There he was.

Rhett was standing on the other side of the room. He was talking to the nurse who held Bonnie as he stroked her tiny cheek. Ella was beside him, her hand in his.

She raced towards him, unconscious of Ashley or Melanie or anyone else in the room. It was as if everyone else had blurred into the background. They didn't matter. She didn't need them. She didn't want them…

She needed Rhett.

He turned towards her just as she reached him, and she latched onto him. She didn't care if he pushed her away. She didn't care if he thought she was a fool. The only thing that mattered was that she was near him again, and it wasn't so hard to bear anymore. As his arms wrapped around her, she was sure that even the strongest, tallest fortress couldn't have been safer.

"Don't-" she choked out. It was becoming hard to breathe. She supposed she was crying again.

Rhett started to pull back again. Scarlett grabbed a hold of his lapel, gripping it tightly in her hands. "Don't what Scarlett?" his voice was cautious.

"Don't…you dare walk away from me again." She pulled him to her again, reaching around her and grasping his hand, entwining their fingers as they had been before. Rhett looked at their entwined fingers and his wife's head nestled against his chest.

"I won't," he said softly.