Disclaimer: Margaret Mitchell owns "Gone With the Wind" and all its characters. I own a handful of OC's and a story idea. Book-verse. Not "Scarlett" compliant.

Barely a breeze stirred the leaves on a hot twilight evening at the end of May, but it didn't matter at all to the congenial group gathered on the Wilkes' back lawn. It wasn't overly hot, at least not by Georgia standards, but even if it were, well, that's what fans were for. But none of the ladies seemed to need a fan.

Marybeth sat quietly at the edge of an animated crowd who were discussing the recent events that had made all the headlines. In Chicago, several police officers were killed by a bomb explosion, and several revolutionaries were arrested as suspects. Marybeth knew somewhat about it--Dr. Meade discussed it with Mrs. Meade at some length. In Marybeth's opinion, it was rather a shame, all that loss of life. But she was too busy with her upcoming nuptials to worry over it too much. Not so, Wade. He'd read everything he could find in the papers concerning the case--it seemed to fascinate him. And in the course of his reading he formed some opinions of his own, opinions he was now defending to his friends as he held forth in the middle of the crowd.

"You sound like an anarchist, Wade--or at least a socialist--when you talk sympathetically about labor unions," Joe Whiting said.

"I'm neither of those things," Wade replied. "But you have to understand, there is a movement afoot in this country towards better pay and working conditions for the average laborer, and it has all the earmarks of a lasting idea."

"Now you sound like a wild-eyed foreigner, just like the rioters," Raoul stated.

"The accused men weren't all foreigners," Wade pointed out.

"Doesn't matter--their philosophy is foreign," Raoul shrugged. "If you're not a socialist, then you must be a Marxist?"

Wade's eyes flashed angrily, but as his wont, he never raised his voice. He hooked one hand in his waistcoat and stood up straighter. "Of course not, I'm a capitalist--and a Democrat--like the rest of you. And at the same time I believe in law and order."

Marybeth looked down to hide a little smile. That must be his courtroom posture. In daydreams she imagined him talking to judge and jury, persuading everybody to his own way of thinking, winning cases...

"And yet you don't seem to be against throwing bombs at the police," Frankie Bonnell countered.

"Now wait just a minute," Wade defended himself. "I never said I advocated violence. In fact, the rally leader himself, August Spies, said the rally was not meant to inspire violence, only change--change to an eight hour working day."

"That will never happen," Joe grinned comfortably. "If the workday were only eight hours long, how would anything get done? And anyhow, everybody knows those types of people are prone to violence. If they can't get what they want through proper authority and the proper steps, they resort to violence."

Wade tilted his head to one side. "That's part of the reason I went into law. I want to leave this world better than when I found it--more fair, more just. But what do you mean by those types of people? Do you mean foreigners, or the poor? My own grandfather was an immigrant from Ireland. And after the War, we were all poor."

"But our fathers didn't riot in the streets and kill people," Frankie retorted.

"That's not entirely true. What about the Ku Klux Klan?" Wade said slowly, very aware he was now wandering into dangerous and controversial territory. The Klan was still a touchy subject, even though most of the men of their circle were no longer Klan members. The northern newspapers still decried the Klan and its activities, and it still gave them an excuse to portray the South in a bad light. "They believed they were fighting against an oppressive government. And yes, people were killed--Negroes, certainly. But also a number of White men. Look at my own step-father--he wasn't killed by the Klan, but he was killed while involved in Klan activities."

"Oh, that's completely different--the Yankee government refused to protect our rights--refused to recognize we even had rights," Frankie insisted.

"I understand your point of view, Frankie, but although the situation may look different to you and to me, in the eyes of these revolutionaries so called, it may not look different at all. They believe they're fighting for their rights."

"Don't you believe they should be punished? Seven police officers died--seven!" Frankie replied.

Marybeth was still giving the outward appearance of listening to the debate but in reality daydreaming about her upcoming wedding when Beau Wilkes quietly came and sat beside her on the bench, in no good mood. While Wade debated with Frankie, there had been some unmistakable sheep's eyes directed between Raoul Picard and Ella. What was Raoul to her? She never mentioned him to Beau. But he smothered his irritation and smiled at Marybeth, who smiled back at him. An easy friendship had sprung up between them over the last few months and he really liked his future cousin-in-law, and that feeling was reciprocated.

"I better rescue your fiancé," Beau said wryly.

"Whatever for?" She asked. "He seems to be doing well on his own."

He laughed. "Is that what you think? You haven't been following the conversation at all, have you?"

She blushed and grinned at being caught out. "I already heard all this at home from Dr. Meade. I suppose I was busy thinking about other things."

"I suppose you can be forgiven for that just this once. But I must congratulate you--you do a superb impression of somebody paying attention to what's going on around her. However, I think I will go rescue Wade."

They both turned to look at him. He hadn't lost his cool demeanor, but he was starting to show signs of frustration at the way his friends were misunderstanding him. "I do believe the guilty party or parties should be punished for this heinous crime," Wade was saying. "But I've been following the papers and I know the evidence against the men they arrested is slim at best."

The others were shaking their heads in disbelief. Beau winked at Marybeth, then stood up and stepped forward. "Gentlemen, I must rush to the defense of my cousin. Father and I strive to give our workers a fair wage, and to know them as individual persons. We're a small concern and we're able to do that. But the big factories, the ones who hire hundreds of employees, can't do that, and unfortunately, a lot of the owners really don't care a fig for their workers. But I'm sure that some day labor unions will come to Atlanta--they're already forming in other cities--and although I hope we can maintain our friendly relations with our men, Father and I may be forced to make a decision either for or against unions, especially if they chose to organize or go out on strike."

"Beau, I never dreamed you were a socialist, too," Raoul, who had rejoined the conversation, said reproachfully.

"It's not socialism to recognize that a man might want a better life for his family--without working himself into an early grave to do it," Beau laughed. "And actually, Wade here, works more than eight hours a day at the law office. And so do I, when I'm home from University and help Father at the mills."

Joe chimed in. "That sounds all high minded and nice, but don't forget the slaves you owned."

Now it was Wade's turn to laugh. "I never owned slaves--although my family did. You seem to forget I was only three when the War ended and freed them all. And Beau wasn't even out of babyhood..."

After this the mood of the crowd changed a bit. They went on debating, but with Beau siding with Wade, it was no longer rancorous. Marybeth was pleased to see that Wade didn't back down in the face of the opposition of his friends. She was proud that he stuck to his beliefs and tried to see both sides of the story. She sighed softly. Only two more weeks, and then she'd be married to him.