Sorry it took me so long to get this very short chapter out, but RL intervened.

I hope the name is satisfactory. I tried to consider everyone's comments.

This one is winding down…has to so I can get busy thinking about the fanfic challenge, right?

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Scarlett woke a couple of hours later and looked around for Rhett. But she was alone in the room, or at least she thought she was. The cradle stood in the corner but she could not see into it to know if the baby was there. If he was, then he must be sleeping soundly, she thought. And then a sudden fear struck her. What if he wasn't sleeping …what if…no, she wouldn't, couldn't think that. He was fine. Dr. Meade had said so. "A fine healthy boy," he had told her, smiling…well, at least as much as Dr. Meade ever smiled. Still, she worried. So after a few minutes she threw the covers off her and moved her legs to the side of the bed. After a deep breath, she forced herself to stand and immediately regretted it, feeling weak. Still, she needed to see her baby.

Using the bed for support, she inched her way towards the cradle. She reached the end of the bed and prepared to make the move the few feet across to the cradle when Rhett stepped into the room. Scarlett was so intent on seeing her baby, she didn't hear him and took her first step without support…and then her second, and then she went down, Rhett catching her before she hit the floor. He carried her back to the bed. "What are you doing, Scarlett?" he asked anxiously. "I…the baby…he…" she breathed out.

Rhett covered her and then kissed her cheek. "He's fine," Rhett tried to assure her.

"But I need to see…" she protested. "All right, my dear. I'll get him. But you are not to get out of bed without help." Rhett stepped to the cradle and gently picked their baby up, cradling him in his arms and walking carefully to the baby's mother. Her eyes sparkled as Rhett handed the baby to her. She looked down into the face of their son and smiled. "He's so beautiful."

Rhett puffed up. My son is not beautiful…boys are not beautiful, they are handsome."

"When he's older, he will be very handsome if he is at all like his father. But for now, he is beautiful," Scarlett insisted.

"Well, if you insist, my dear. I suppose you have earned the right to call him beautiful," Rhett declared, his manner softening. "But he still has no name."

"Well, I've been thinking about that," Scarlett said quietly. "And we should call him Rex Kenneth. Rex means king and he will be like a king when he grows up. And Kenneth…that means born of fire…since he was conceived from fire…"

Rhett's eyes widened as he remembered the fire. He shifted uncomfortably and Scarlett looked up…"Oh no, I didn't mean…oh…Rhett, I'm sorry. I meant…well," she began to blush, "when he was conceived there was such fire between us." Her eyes glistened as she thought of their many sessions in bed once they were reunited.

Rhett relaxed a little but couldn't quite get the memory of flames out of his mind. "Besides," Scarlett smiled, "his initials would be the same as yours, RKB, and Rex and Rhett sound alike."

Rhett contemplated the delight he saw in his wife's eyes and then looked into the face of his son. "Name him whatever you like," he said equably. "I plan to call him Chance," he said with conviction. "He is the product of my risking everything on one last chance for happiness."

Scarlett watched her husband solemnly, understanding the emotions behind his words. "Yes, yes he is…for both of us." Then looking down at her son, she whispered, "You will be a king one day …and…well, you were conceived in the fire of passion between your father and me. But your father is right, you are a reward for taking one last chance, so Chance you will be." As if he understood and agreed, Chance opened his eyes wide and then his face softened, with him almost smiling.

Later, sometime during the night, Rhett heard Chance stirring in his crib. Rhett eased out of bed and walked stealthily to check on his son. As he looked into the crib, he felt a surge of pride and immeasurable happiness. "I was so afraid of you," he whispered to his son, "so afraid of what having another child might do to me. But now, here you are and…well, I'm still afraid. I'm afraid that I won't be a good father. I doted on Bonnie too much. And worse, I wouldn't share her with her mother. I won't make that mistake with you. Oh, I'll love you…with everything that I have within me, I'll love you. But…I won't spoil you…not like I did with Bonnie. Your mother tried to warn me about the pony…about jumping," he said, the words catching in his throat. "But I wouldn't listen. No, Chance…you won't always have your way. But you are going to grow into a good man, the kind of man I should have been for your mother…the man I'm trying to be now."

Chance studied his father's face intently in the dim light, his dark eyes very serious. And as Rhett concluded, Chance drew his legs up close to his body and with a sudden jerk, flexed his legs and arms, stretching them out, reaching for his father. And he cooed. Rhett felt the tears sneaking into his eyes, filling them until finally a few trickled out. He swiped them away and reached for his son, holding him close as he made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. Once he sat down, he held Chance close, hoping the baby felt his love…and the tears began to flow freely. He cried as he hadn't cried in years, since he was a child himself. He cried from happiness and he cried over all the mistakes he'd made, especially with Scarlett. He cried for Bonnie, their unborn child, and with relief for Chance's safe arrival. And then he cried because he was simply to full of emotion not to.

Scarlett had awakened while Rhett was talking to Chance. She witnessed his tears and his tight hold on their son. She heard his anguish, joy, and relief that all seemed to roll into one emotion. And as the tears abated and he began to collect himself, she watched as he placed Chance carefully back in his crib.

Quietly he slipped back into their bed, hoping he hadn't disturbed Scarlett, and then felt pleasure as her hand snaked up his back and wrapped around his chest. She snuggled into his back, her soft lips gently kissing him between his shoulder blades. Her breath was warm on his ear as she nuzzled up and whispered, "I love you." He sobbed one last time with deep emotion and then rolled to face her, drawing her close and wrapping his arms around her. He couldn't think of any words to describe what he was feeling, couldn't have said them if he had thought of them, his chest was tight and his throat full as his heart swelled. As if she understood, she settled into him, sighing a contented sigh, and began to plant tiny kisses over his heart. Closing his eyes, he took deep breath and began to relax, relishing the sensations she was creating within him. Their passion that night wasn't their usual fire and fury, it wasn't sexual, and it wasn't needy. They shared a quiet passion for each other, one of hope and security, one of knowing one another and accepting, one that only comes with the experience of walking through hell together and emerging together, as well. They held each other for the rest of the night, content and happy, understanding that their tomorrows would bring new challenges but comfortable in the knowledge that together, they would conquer them.

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As always, your comments would be most appreciated.