The first time he returned to Atlanta he vowed to be his last. He strode up the steps to the Peachtree street house, clutching the papers that would rid Scarlett from his life. He was oddly anxious, and Rhett contributed it to the anticipation of his liberation rather than the thought of his actually leaving Scarlett O'Hara.

The door opened in front of him as if on its own accord, as if it knew he was returning. Pork must have been staring out the window, Rhett reasoned, and opened the door out of habit. The old servant was nowhere in sight now, and Rhett shrugged off his coat unaided and tossed it onto the side table. Of course, the house servants would have an alliance with Scarlett. Most of them had been with her since she was just a child. Rhett hoped Mammy wasn't around.

"Pork, who's there?" It was Scarlett's voice, and Rhett poised himself to bow when she came around the corner of the landing.

"Oh," she said when she saw him. "Rhett."

She looked just the same as when he had left her. Still head to toe in mourning, her hair pulled up into a loose chignon.

"Still in mourning for Miss Melly? I can't believe it," he said mildly, removing his hat and ambling towards the stairs. "How long has it been?" He knew how long it had been. He wanted to see the old Scarlett, the Scarlett who puffed up with anger and spat out whatever came to mind.

"I should be in mourning forever for sweet Melly," Scarlett cried hotly. "How dare you assume that I don't care! Besides," she said, her voice changing as he neared her, "I'm not only mourning for Melanie."

He was beside her now, and he saw her white fingers gripping tightly to the stairwell, noticed the frown lines around her mouth. She looked up at him with her burning green eyes, and Rhett's heart beat faster. He looked away.

"Nothing's changed, Scarlett."

"What's that?" she asked him, pointing at the papers he still held in his hands. Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm glad you asked, my dear." He held them out to her, but she did not take them.

"No," she said, and she tucked her hands under her armpits. "I already told you, I won't give you a divorce."

"Scarlett," he began, speaking to her like a child, "It'll do us both good to be rid of each other."

"But I don't want to be rid of you," she cried. "Rhett, I love you!" That desperate look was back on her face- the look she had given him when he'd left her that night at Rough and Ready. The same look she'd come to him with at the jail. He had failed her then and he would fail her now.

Anger at himself and at her took over him, and he thrust the papers into her arms, forcing her to take them.

"You will sign," he growled. "You will sign, if I have to break your wrist to do it." He wanted to slap her. He clenched his fists.

"No," she said again, and before he could stop her she turned and in one swift movement tossed the papers over the balcony. Together they watched as the papers floated silently down to rest on the floor and staircase.

"How pretty," Scarlett mused, and Rhett stared at her, incredulous.

"You've already broken my heart," he said to her, "Won't you give me my freedom?"

"I'm sorry," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Rhett was defeated. He turned and trotted down the stairs, picking up his coat and hat. As he opened the door, he turned back to look at her unmoving form at the top of the stairs.

"I wish you misery," he said. And for a moment, he meant it.

--

He had only been in Charleston for three months when the first letter from Atlanta arrived. Scarlett's Aunt Pitty, extremely distraught, wrote to Rhett to inform him that his wife was not seeing visitors. "Only the servants go in and out, Captain Butler! We hear she hasn't been eating! I called on her unexpectedly the other day and she screamed at me to get out!" Then came Mrs. Mead's letter and Mrs. Merriweather's letter, and even Belle, who wrote to him about the gossip she'd heard at the saloon. Finally, after two years, Ashley Wilkes's letter arrived:

"I was reluctant to write you, considering our past, Captain Butler. But it's been too long, and Scarlett is still not herself. You and I both know that there is not a braver woman in the South. But Captain Butler, she roams the gardens absently, she lets no one see her. She cries for days at a time. I've tried all I can, and you will be pleased to know that my presence does nothing for her. You must go to her. "

"When will you leave me be, Scarlett O'Hara?"

Grudgingly, Rhett found himself back in Atlanta.



I found Rhett quite difficult to write. I hope it turned out alright.

For more information on the continuation and inspiration for this story, as well as my other stories, please visit my profile page.