Author's Note: Thanks so very much to those of you who have very kindly reviewed. Helen spotted where this story is [loosely] headed; although, I hope that it'll be quite an interesting journey.

Read on, and review! ;)

Gone With the Wind is the intellectual property of the great Margaret Mitchell and no infringement is intended.

2

Rhett was exhausted by the time he was finally settled on the Charleston bound train and was able to clean up a little. He had requested another pot of coffee to be brought to his compartment, which helped stave off the exhaustion for the time being. The young doctor who was already aboard the train had been intercepted by Rhett's valet, and given a sizeable wad of cash to pull himself away from his pretty new wife and examine the tiny, mewling baby. The doctor was a Charleston native, although unfamiliar to Rhett, and had pronounced the child small but sturdy, with a fine set of lungs. She demonstrated her vocal prowess only sparingly, having been rendered quite content at the breast of the fat darkie nurse temporarily engaged to suckle her until he could find a permanent replacement.

"No one knows that you're with me, sweet girl," Rhett whispered to his sleeping daughter, at contented rest in his arms. "Your Mama is in Heaven this morning, with your sister Bonnie and your twin. But Daddy loves you. So, so much." And then, he drew the baby's face up to his lips and covered it with kisses, which caused her to whimper in protest. He took another look at her as she stretched out tiny arms. Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. Rosebud lips and hair as black as his own. He looked out the window and saw that the sun was already up, signaling that it would be a beautiful day in Charleston, if they'd ever get there. It had been a long time since he had made a visit to the Low Country; he had almost forgotten its beauty while in the alcohol induced stupor he had kept going since he had walked out on Scarlett.

He could feel tears on his cheeks. Poor, poor Scarlett. He was a damned coward for not being there at the vigil, or the funeral. Would they bury her next to Gerald O'Hara at Tara, in the red clay soil she loved so well? Or would they put her next to Bonnie at Oakwood? He hoped not, for Scarlett would never have wished herself to be buried amongst the families of the Old Guard she had so despised in life. He looked again down at the baby, reveling in the miracle of her existence. His miracle. As if God himself had seen fit to give Rhett Butler a reason to live. He hoped that God would understand why he couldn't keep Wade and Ella. Surely they would be alright without him. They would be. After all, he reassured himself, they are Scarlett's children.

After another half an hour, the doctor came back to the cabin and took the baby out of Rhett's arms to examine her, which caused her to cry out mightily.

"Like I said before," the young man said, "…she has quite the set of lungs on her."

At that, Rhett had to smile through his tears.

The doctor asked hesitantly, "This is a newborn baby, sir. Might I inquire as to the health of the mother?"

"My wife," Rhett clarified for him. "She's dead. And the twin along with her."

"Twin? I see. I've never seen a twin birth myself," the doctor said, with a twinge of remorse that he had not gotten the opportunity, "I'd like to. They are of course, notoriously trying for the mother. But some survive, of course. I've not met a set, but I've read about them."

They did not exchange any further words, and Rhett continued to hold his daughter, periodically smoothing her soft hair and running his fingers over her tiny, perfect features as the doctor pushed back the swaddling to get a good look at her.

"Her hands are a little blue," the doctor said. "But that's fairly common. Was she born prematurely?"

Rhett looked up at the doctor with confusion.

"I meant, was your wife able to carry her twins to term?"

"About eight months," Rhett answered, unsure of what to say.

The doctor nodded. "So, close to term. Again, nothing to worry about, so long as you keep her quite warm. The midwife who delivered her did a fine job with the cord. See? Hardly a stump."

"The doctor," Rhett mumbled. The doctor who had pronounced his baby girl dead.

"Her eyes are puffy, but not too bad. Again, sir, remarkable little girl you have there."

"Of course she is," Rhett heard himself say emphatically.

The doctor nodded then and took his leave, returning to his own cabin and his pretty wife, who was upset that she was not given leave to hold the baby.

"Have you ever seen such a spectacle, Thomas?" she was saying. "That man, holding his little baby as though it were the Christ Child?"

"He was wise not to pass her around, Judith," the young doctor replied soothingly. "She's only the tiniest of infants. The surviving one of a set of twins. It is quite extraordinary that he's taking her on the train at all. And that she has managed the trip so well thus far."

"It's not as if she's living under a bridge," Judith said sulkily. "And if its so extraordinary, where's the mother?"

The doctor replied, "Dead. And the truth is that Mr. Butler there is taking her death very, very hard. I didn't think that I could rightfully refuse that man anything, even had he not a penny, which is clearly not the case. But he wants to board a ship for Europe at the first possible opportunity, which is inadvisable while the child is so small."

Judith looked out the window of her compartment and sighed. "Running away from his wife's death won't do him any good. Poor, wretched man…"

Rhett disembarked from the train about eight fifteen that morning, and insisted upon cradling the baby in his arms as he did so rather than hand her over to the wetnurse. She followed, along with his valet, and he nodded politely to the young doctor and his wife, who observed him with curiosity as he stepped onto the platform and toward a waiting carriage.

An old Butler darkie named Manigo was standing at the carriage door, and jumped in behind Rhett and the silent wetnurse. "Mist' Rhett," the old man said, lowering his long dark face toward the baby and smiling slightly, "Mist' Rhett, surely dat ain't no bastaad chile?"

Rhett growled, "Like Hell. Miss Scarlett's dead. This is my…our daughter."

Manigo looked awkward and embarrassed by his blunder. "Miss Eleanor doan tell Manigo nothin'."

Rhett softened as he noticed that the old black man's lips were trembling, and he said, "Mother will be expecting us?"

Manigo nodded emphatically. "Yessah. Ah's done tole Miss Eleanor and Miss Rosemary dat we's be at de Landin' fore breakfastin', sah."

From then on, the trip was quick, and the baby only cried minimally as the carriage hit a bump in the road here and there. Rhett could see the figures of two women standing on the steps of the big house, and Manigo told him that they had probably been waiting since he had set off to fetch him from the station.

The taller of the women was wearing a faded dress of mossy brown hue and a soft felt hat with a wide brim that would not have looked out of place on a field hand, and he realized that it was his sister. His mother was next to her, her fine white hair brilliant against the pink color of her cheeks. Rosemary's face had an unusual pallor, for her. And if he didn't know any better, he would say that she'd lost a good deal of weight since his last visit.

When he had first fled to Charleston after leaving Scarlett, he had fallen into his mother's arms in some kind of a sad relief, the hot September sun soothing his soul like a balm. Now, he felt the oppressive heat more than ever, and he attempted to shield the baby's face with his hand while holding her ever so carefully.

"Rhett!" his mother cried, running toward him. "Oh my God!"

And then his sister, sweat visible on her face, said something then which he missed. She had clearly been out riding, examining the rice fields.

"What is this?" his mother asked.

"Let's get her inside and out of the sun," Rhett said, brushing past both of the women.

After that, both were quiet as they followed him, waiting for him to enlighten them.

He sat down in a rocking chair in the solar, the baby still sleeping in his arms, and finally spoke to his mother and sister. "Scarlett's dead. This is her daughter. My daughter. She's…her birthday was yesterday morning, around five thirty, to be exact."

His mother bent down next to him, her voice quavering, "Rhett, Rhett - surely you didn't take the baby and flee without attending to the funeral. Rhett, honey, Rhett?"

He stood up then, clutching the baby to his chest. His mother, frightened by his display of emotion, reached out her hands. "Hand the baby to me, Rhett honey. Let me see my Grandbaby."

Rosemary said, "If you don't sit down, you'll have a stroke. And then where your baby be but orphaned? Understand?"

Rhett let his mother hold the child then, his hands trembling as he returned to his seat. "I need to get out of here."

Rosemary countered. "Fine, but you'll leave the baby with Mother. And I'll go and see about the other children."

"My daughter will come with me."

"And where do you want to take her? To the whores of New Orleans? The Bahamas?"

"No!" he bellowed, causing his mother to jump and the baby to let out a cry. "Give her to me," he stretched out his hands.

His grief and fatigue made it difficult for him to even see straight, and Rosemary well knew it. She could see for herself the blood pounding in Rhett's temples.

"What about the other children, Rhett? Or have you forgotten about them?"

Mrs. Butler walked toward her son slowly, with all the dignity of a great lady. "We'll need to tell Pauline and Eulalie as soon as possible. And the entire household must wear mourning for Scarlett …"

Rhett shook his head, his eyes pleading with his mother to understand. "I can't go back to Atlanta. I can't face Atlanta without Scarlett. None of them know that the baby survived. They said she was dead when they gave her to me. Please, Mother. Let me take her away with me before you tell them. At least grant me that."

Mrs. Butler's eyes glistened with tears. "Where, Rhett?"

"London or Paris."

"Europe? Why, Rhett? Why Europe?"

"She can be raised away from all of this. All the narrow people who threw slurs at Scarlett and me. From the hot sun and the mosquitoes and the cotton and the goddamned rice!"

Rosemary spoke after several moments of silence, her words slow and deliberate. "So, you will just abandon the other children to the charity of their relatives?"

Rhett shook his head. "I will provide generously for their education. For a trousseau for Ella, University for Wade. Whatever the amount you think appropriate only tell me and it will be so. I swear to God, Rosemary, I will not set another foot in Atlanta as long as I live."

"And what about Bonnie?"

He jerked back as if she had struck him, but then, the sunlight flooded into the window, illuminating the baby's face. "I've been given a second chance, Rosemary," he said finally. "We'll be upstairs. Tell that nurse that my daughter will likely be hungry."

Realizing that his mind was made up, Rosemary threw her hands up in acquiescence and shuffled towards the door, presumably to give instructions to the waiting wetnurse. Mrs. Butler said very softly, "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow," Rhett replied. "There's a ship out of New York on Wednesday, which is two days from now, bound for London."

"And when…when do you feel that you'll return?"

He shrugged. "I need time, Mother."

She put a hand over her mouth, then called out his name once more as he started up the staircase. "Rhett - What are you going to call her?"

"Katie Scarlett comes to mind," he said, then turned his back on his mother and continued up the stairs to his childhood bedroom…

. . . .

As Scarlett was waking up, it came to her why Ashley had seemed so distressed when she had first asked him about Rhett: Rhett had been handed the body of the dead baby by Dr. Meade before it was buried. Of course he would flee; it was only natural for him to have fled. She had forgotten, largely, the events of that day, but, two weeks past, as she was getting out of bed for the first time, the memories flooded into her mind. And naturally, her first and foremost concern was getting in touch with Rhett, wherever he had gone, and tell him that their prayers had been answered, that they were parents again. He couldn't be anything but happy about that. Especially when he saw her, their glorious baby girl. She only wished, she thought with a sharp pang in her chest, that she could have at least seen the other one, before they took her to bury. She chased the thought away, thinking that she should be damned grateful to have one beautiful baby, even if her sister was not meant to be.

She still had a great deal of difficulty getting up, so tired was she still from the birth. She decided that it was not worth the effort, so she rang the tiny silver bell on her nightstand, which would summon one of the maids to help her into a dressing gown so that she could make the trip down the hall to the nursery and see her darling little Melanie Grace.

It was not her maid Pansy that entered, but Mammy, her heaving breaths preceding her actual entry.

"Mah lamb! Ah's tole you and Ah's tole you. You ain't s'posed to be oughta dat there bed! Ah sees you done got dat there shawl all on your own. Betchu figured on jes' walkin' on down dat hallway like you's got all your stren' back, chile. Well, you ain't!"

"I hear you, Mammy," Scarlett replied without too much obstinacy in her voice. She was tired, after all. "Would you bring the baby in here, please? I want to hold her."

"Well," Mammy muttered, then looked back toward the open door. It was Ashley.

"Why Ashley Wilkes, what a pleasant surprise," Scarlett sat up a little straighter in bed. "Come and see me, won't you? I'm dreadfully bored."

"Ain't fittin'." Scarlett thought she heard Mammy mumble as Ashley took a seat at the edge of her bed and brushed his lips across her hand, surrounding it with his own as he did so. Kindly he asked her if she wasn't too tired and he also inquired as to little Melanie's health since he had last visited the day before.

Scarlett had known Ashley Wilkes long enough to know when something was troubling him and something was, deeply, by the look on his face.

"What is it, Ashley?" she said finally.

He seemed to be relieved that she had asked and looked up at Mammy, as if signaling that she should go. The old woman stayed put at her post by the door.

"You received some correspondence from Rosemary Butler," Ashley began gently.

"Rhett's sister?" Scarlett could feel her heart beginning to race.

"Yes, Scarlett."

"What did she say?" she asked eagerly.

He cleared his throat, looking nervously back at Mammy, then Scarlett. "My intention in telling you this is not to upset you, my dear."

"Just tell me, Ashley."

"Rhett sent this - it's addressed only to Wade and Ella. He apologizes for not being able to watch them grow, et cetera, et cetera. He promises to provide for them financially which he does, in the way of - three million dollars."

"What are you saying, Ashley?" Scarlett's heart was sinking as fast as it had soared.

"He has asked that I administrate it, although I am at a loss for a reason why he would not simply give it to you. I suppose he …oh Scarlett, I don't know what he supposed."

"Where is he, Ashley? What else did she say?"

"He's left the country, my dear. And left Rosemary no contact information."

"But, Ashley?"

"Dat's 'nuff!" Mammy said gruffly, "Ain't doin' no good upsettin' Miss Scarlett now."

"She needs to know, Mammy."

"Mist' Ashley!"

"What's going on here that I don't know about?" Scarlett cried out in frustration.

He pulled out a piece of paper from a thick envelope. "A bill of sale for the Peachtree house. It's an eviction notice, Scarlett. You …you'll have to be out in a week's time."

"I don't understand, Ashley, I …I don't understand it!"

Then, she began to cry and she felt his arms around her, his soothing voice repeating the words: "It's going to be alright, my dear."

She asked him then if he thought that Rhett truly had stopped loving her, as if he was the authority in such matters of the heart. He said that he was sure that it was not so - but then he railed for a minute or two about wanting to write Rhett a letter, one with a punch, that would make him sorry for what he had done.

"And then," Ashley said emphatically, "I would spit in his face and throw him out, were he ever to show up here."

Scarlett was far too upset to appreciate the humor in Ashley's assertion; he would never survive the delivery of such a slight to Rhett. Since she did not reply, he must have assumed that she thought his statement a satisfactory solution for the problem.

He repeated his remark and Scarlett sobbed again, "But why, Ashley? What did I ever do but love him?"

They sat there for awhile, him holding her hand and her not saying anything. After almost an hour he said that he should go. She felt all at once exhausted and broken-hearted and bitter. She didn't understand at first, but after she thought about it for awhile, she realized that Ashley had been right, that it was one of those things that was bound to happen sooner or later. She even agreed, much as she didn't want to.

At least she had Melanie to love, as well as Wade and Ella. Her little girl. Hers and Rhett's. She heard only the sound of the blood pounding about in her ears, and she lay in motionless in her bed. Finally, she sat up again in bed and near screamed: "You've always been allowed to leave me Rhett Butler, whenever you please! Just as you always have! Not this time. Sell my house from out from under me, will you? Well, when you come back, we won't be here in Atlanta. Me and the children and your baby are going to be gone somewhere you won't be able to find us so easily. When you come back this time, you'll have to earn it..."

. . . .

As the church bell tolled, Rosemary Butler's train pulled out of the Atlanta depot. She sat in her compartment next to her ladies' maid, stone-faced. Ashley Wilkes had accepted the note from Rhett and the check for whatever ungodly amount of money her brother had deemed fitting for Wade and Ella's care.

So Scarlett was still living …poor Rhett. Rosemary had never approved of his marrying her from the start, and she had seen firsthand the effects of their twisted, toxic love.

Or was it even love, when it drove her brother to such distraction?

Her poor dear brother. He should be safe in England this day or the next. Him and that sweet baby. The very best of Scarlett. He'd not be back to Atlanta, and there would be none to tell him that Scarlett was alive, not after the house was sold and all his assets in the city were liquidated, as per his request. No, it was better this way. For all concerned…Rosemary felt a little chill run down her spine. No, she reassured herself, it was much, much better this way.