Chapter 3: The one-half
One night three months after the accident, Scarlett confronts Rhett about KKK. Here, obviously, with a twist! The sentence in bold from the canon triggered this chapter! Hope you enjoy!
"Daddy," said the small voice indignant now, and Rhett, still laughing, started down the hall.
"Of course, run to her," she said with barely concealed malice. "She is all you ever care about anyway."
He stopped rather abruptly and slowly turned around.
"Jealous of your own daughter, are you now, Scarlett?" his voice was mocking, but strangely, his eyes weren't. There was an alertness in them she hadn't seen since the accident.
"If you had given me one-half of the attention and tenderness you lavish on Bonnie, life would have been completely different."
She would later wonder what had behold her to say those thoughts out loud. Rhett sucked in his breath, but before he had a chance to answer back, Bonnie's voice was heard a third time –"Daddy!"– and she saw a now or never opportunity to run and hide in her room.
"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," she heard him say gently behind her back. "Daddy will be with you in a bit."
And in a rare display of obedience, Bonnie spoke no more. He reached the door just in time before Scarlett shut it on his face.
"Not fast enough, Scarlett," he drawled.
"Will you please let go of the door? I need to sleep."
"Your beauty sleep will have to wait."
"I have nothing more to say to you, Rhett."
"Yes, you do. You threw a serious accusation at me and I believe I have the right to listen to your reasons and defend myself."
"As if you'd ever admit you are wrong," she sneered.
"This may be the day that I'll pleasantly surprise you, my dear."
They stood there looking at each other, strong will facing strong will, until finally Scarlett bucked down. He walked in and, closing the door, leaned against it, his arms crossed on his chest.
"Pray tell, Mrs. Butler. What does that one-half you clearly crave include? What is it that you want and I haven't given to you already? Because I'm under the impression –and please feel free to correct me– that I have given plenty."
He spoke in a calm voice, yet everything about his posture was anything but calm. The old cat-in-a-mouse-hole look had reemerged from long forgotten times and he wasn't trying to hide it. He was watching her closely, an eagerness to hear what her next words would be.
"Plenty?"
"Yes, Scarlett, plenty. It's a very long list. Do you need me to recite it?"
"Be my guest. I'm curious to know all the chivalrous things you have done for me."
Something flared in his eyes, a mixture of anger and hurt, even though his face remained nonchalant.
"This monstrosity you call a house, food you wouldn't even dream of back in the day, more clothes than you will need in a lifetime, enough jewelry to get you through another war without moving a finger and the means to support whatever extravagant life you wish to lead."
"Everything your money can buy?" she mocked and she saw his jaw clenching.
"Isn't that why you married me in the first place, my pet?" he hit back.
"Why did you marry me, Rhett? You said you wanted me more than any other woman."
"I did," he said cautiously.
"When you want something that badly and you finally get it, you want to keep it."
"What are you implying, Scarlett?" his voice was dangerously low. "That I didn't try hard enough?"
"Did you?"
He suddenly chuckled, like she had made a joke, and whatever feeling she had stirred in him faded out of his face back to blankness.
"It appears there are several misconceptions going on in this pretty little head of yours. So, let me put them straight. Even though I see no need to it. We've been through this before," he shoved his hands into his pockets and she saw them balling into fists. "We two had a bargain, Scarlett. A bargain which I had kept, but you broke the day you and Ashley decided that we should have separate bedrooms."
"There weren't any objections from your end as far as I can remember."
"What would you have me do instead? Beg?" he laughed hoarsely. "When have you ever known me to beg?"
"I've never known you to walk away from a fight either," she retorted. "If you wanted me so much, why didn't you fight?"
"Fight for what, Scarlett?" he leaned in, his eyes dark and unreadable. "A woman who doesn't want me back?"
"That's your excuse?" she wondered, amazed at how pathetic it sounded coming from Rhett of all people. "You are the most determined man I know. I've seen what you are capable of, once you put your mind to something, and I know you won't stop until you get it."
"My, my, Mrs. Butler," a malicious grin spread on his mouth, but his eyes remained hard. "This is probably the first compliment you have ever given me. I appreciate you hold me in such high esteem, my pet, I really do, but I don't see how this is relevant."
"Don't play stupid with me, Rhett. In less than two years I've watched you beating your way back into society and turning from Atlanta's outcast to Atlanta's finest."
"You know perfectly well why I did it. And I would do it again, if I had to."
"My point exactly," she said bitterly. "You shifted the world upside down for your daughter, but you didn't lift a finger for your wife."
His face hardened as if slapped, his voice colder than ice when he finally spoke.
"I've learned a long time ago that when it comes to Ashley and you, I end up on the losing end. I may be a gambler, my pet, but I'm not a fool. I know when I have a bad hand."
"You chose to discard me then," she cried.
"It is called a change in tactics, Scarlett," he drawled. "I won't tire you with the specifics, because you already know how it's been since Bonnie was born, but the bottom line is this. You moon after Ashley, while I moon after whores."
She felt her eyes burning with tears as the same words from a different night replayed in her head. Along with the careless gesture with which he had dismissed that night two days later. And the barely healed wound reopened, seeping poison.
"So that night you simply mistook me for one, is that it?" she barely uttered.
He hadn't seen it coming –the hurt in her eyes, the trembling in her voice– and he gasped.
"No, Scarlett."
"But then you thought 'Why just me? Why not the whole town?' So, you disappeared for three months."
"Stop it," he grabbed her arm. "That's not why I left."
"And then you came back and called my baby a bastard," she flinched in pain and he visibly blanched. "Were you happy, when I lost it, Rhett?" her voice finally broke and the first sob followed soon after.
His arms wrapped instantly around her and she tried to shove him away, out of her mind with sorrow.
"Let me loose, you cad!" she lashed out, her fists hitting him hard.
Yet the more she was resisting, the more persistent he was becoming. His hand pressed her head on him and she felt his heart throbbing on her cheek. She didn't want to stop fighting this brutal man, for he had hurt her so deeply and for so long. But somehow, she did. His chest was broad and strong and the moment her head touched him, it all came back; the smell of cigars and whiskey and horses, the times he had comforted her in the past, when she woke up lost in her nightmare. And right then she was in so much pain and she needed him. Her knees bent, but he held her tight and, grabbing from him, she gave herself over to grief for the child she had lost.
It didn't take her long to realize that she wasn't alone in her mourning. The arms holding her so tightly were shaking violently, the chest absorbing her sobs was heaving and she felt more than heard a mournful groan coming from the depths of his throat. Unable to grasp its significance quite yet, she raised her head towards him. She looked at his tear-stained face and the pain in his eyes mirroring her own and, slowly but steadily, dawned an understanding.
"You… you wanted it too."
"I did," he heaved.
"Then why, Rhett? Why did you say those cruel things to me?"
"Despite what you seem to believe, I didn't leave to hurt you. I just couldn't stand feeling hurt and angry and jealous all the time. So, I left to cool down. Apparently, three months weren't enough."
He paused as if to compose himself.
"I am so very sorry," he brokenly said. "It was all my fault."
The profound guilt written all over his face took her aback. "What are you talking about? It was an accident."
"Don't try to humor me, Scarlett. I harmed you and I harmed the baby," his voice was shaking.
"With words, yes, but not physically, no! I flung at you and lost my balance. You didn't push me down the stairs. That's absurd! I never thought that!"
"Then why didn't you call for me?" he asked bitterly. "For three days I was waiting outside your room for you to call me, but you never did."
"You were?" she whispered. "Oh, Rhett! I needed you. I needed you badly. But I thought you didn't want me or the baby. You should have come to me. It would have been so much more bearable if you had been next to me."
"I see that now," he placed a hand on her cheek and his hold around her tightened. "But, back then, guilt was much stronger than reason. I feared so much I would lose you, Scarlett."
Witnessing his own suffering –his worry, his sorrow for the baby, his regrets, all laying out in the open now–, knowing that they were in this together, brought a warm feeling of relief in her aching heart. She brushed her cheek against his palm, offering him a watery smile.
He leaned forward, barely an inch from her mouth, and hovered in hesitation. But the longing that spread on her face when she felt his warm breath on her skin was too evident to passed unnoticed, especially by Rhett, and his lips crushed hers with dazing ferocity. Those hot demanding lips she had missed so much. Her hands swathed his neck, pulling him closer as her mouth opened to receive his soft tongue. He moved her backwards, while his lips traveled downwards to her neck, until they reached the bed. With one fluid move, he laid her down and his enormous body bent over her. His mouth was on her again, passionate thirsty kisses leaving her out of breath and in need for more. He dived one hand under her nightgown and caressed all the way up her torso till he found what he was looking for and gently cupped her breast. She moaned in his mouth, her body arching towards him as her own hands frantically tried to rid him of his shirt. He rushed to her aid and shoved it somewhere across the room with one quick move, before helping her out of her nightshirt too. In another time, his eyes roaming hungrily over her naked body would have embarrassed her to the point of repulsion. But they spoke of such lust and mad desire that the breath caught on her throat. His bare skin brushed against her stomach, the heat that was Rhett burning her skin, while his lips glided down her neck again and then further down. He sucked her nipple greedily and she moaned anew. Yet, she needed more, so much more, now that she knew what was to come. Her legs wrapped around his waist urging him on and he understood, like he always did, what she craved for. So very slowly he entered her, a loud groan that matched her own, and stayed there absolutely still. Their eyes locked for a long moment, their noses merely touching, their breaths mingling, before he kissed her again and thrusted into her. What started like a slow sensual dance, soon escalated into a frenzied rhythm, their craving for one another too great for patience.
"Rhett," she cried, when the pressure building inside finally exploded.
Wave after wave of immense pleasure crashed throughout her entire body and sent Rhett over the edge too with a loud prolonged groan.
He rolled on his back taking her along as he did and she curled around him deliciously spent.
"I had started to believe it was a dream," she purred, once their breathing returned to normal.
"What was?" he murmured, his lips on the top of her hair.
"That night…"
He turned on his side to look onto her, his eyes searching her face. It was sincere content he saw on those blushing cheeks and timid smile and he tucked her hair behind her ear smiling back. "It wasn't."
Her eyes flushed at that and the contentment shining there turned into something dark and vicious he could only name as jealousy. How had he failed to recognize it before? But then again, he had also failed to see that she had missed him. That was what had pulled her out of her bedroom in the middle of the night to talk to him, even if she hadn't said as much. He had been right to assess it as a small window of time and take immediate action –she was now naked in his arms after all– and he would be damned if he let this opportunity for reconciliation slip through his fingers. So, when she opened her mouth to speak, he spoke first.
"I didn't sleep with anyone else that night, Scarlett."
"You told me you were living with her."
How to explain it properly without ruining their fragile current state?
"That doesn't mean I had an affair."
Confusion knit her brows, demanding more.
"I maintain a room there. A room of my own, not with her."
"But you said…"
"Scarlett," he sighed. "You need to understand something about me and, please, keep it in your mind for future reference. I react cruelly when I'm hurt and angry."
"But why be angry after…" he raised a mocking brow and she merely said "Oh" before dropping her eyes.
She kept biting her bottom lip, however, and he knew there was more to come.
"So, you haven't been…"
"I didn't say I never have," he offered cautiously.
She tried to pull away, but his arm on her waist stopped her.
"I want to be honest with you, Scarlett, I really do. But we can't talk about it, if you flare up with everything I say."
The sincerity in his voice startled her. She wavered, probably considering her options, and then her body relaxed. Still, she phrased the next question head down.
"How often?"
He decided to reward her bravery with the truth.
"Whenever not having you became too much for me to bear."
She jerked her head up, her eyes wide with shock.
"You said you didn't want me, you said you didn't care," her voice a tremor.
"If the words wounded pride mean anything to you, and I'm quite certain they do, then you have your answer. I've never stopped wanting you, Scarlett. And I don't believe I ever will."
Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked several times to push them back.
"I regretted it," she mumbled and it was his turn to stare incredulous. "I wanted to take it back. But you'd told me about the world being full of beds and beds full of women and I didn't know how."
"You locked your door," he said stupidly, but he knew, before she shook her head, that not once had he tried to put her threat in testing.
He started laughing then, a laughter tinging with sadness, both for the lost years and the better years that, he was now convinced, lay ahead. Scarlett was looking at him, an adorable expression of mild amusement and serious concern for his lunacy in her face, and he had to kiss her again and again, before explaining himself.
"You called me out for being a coward tonight, my darling, and you cut me deep. But, by God, you've nailed it, Scarlett."
"And that's somehow funny?" she puzzled. "That we lost two years of our life, because you were a coward?"
"You were too though, my darling, weren't you?"
"I was not," she protested.
"Level with me here, Scarlett. How long have you been missing me?"
She was mumbling something inaudible when, with a swift move, he pulled her on him and buried his fingers in her tangled hair.
"Can you repeat that, please?"
She was trying really hard to keep a straight face and hold on to her irritation, but his good mood was apparently contagious.
"I said 'two years', you conceited cad!" she giggled.
He drew her into another kiss and, although the reason behind his mood shift remained quite unclear, she enjoyed the result without a single complain.