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So, the next chapter is here, everyone needs to settle down.

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I own nothing in regard to GWTW.

Chapter 15.

She didn't remember how long she sat like that. There was a downpour that coloured all the light beige sand a dark brown, that made all the seagulls hide.

Slowly the rain eased, the drops falling less and less, but Scarlett didn't notice it, just as she didn't notice the downpour. She sat on the sand, shivering, soaking wet, her eyes were red and swollen with tears. She did not notice the physical discomfort, for the mental wound seemed to her terrible. Dusk was about to fall, but she had lost track of time. It was a breakdown.

"Son. Their. A son. His and hers. A son. That boy. She is his mother. Him and her. In bed again. She and the baby. He was with her. Him and his tenderness for her. For the baby. His hands on her belly. No. No. No. No."

Nausea was coming up her throat again and she had to take several deep breaths.

Shaking with cold, she looked at her hands... That damn gold ring. It hurt without doing anything. She cared. He hadn't hurt on purpose. Her soul burned and ached in a way it never had before. He was taking up so much space in her soul that she was scared. She loved him.

"Oh, my God, Scarlett..." she heard a vaguely familiar male voice, but she didn't look up.

She felt the jacket on her shoulders, and then the strong hands that helped her up.

Without raising her eyes, she only said quietly, "James..."

He could see that she didn't look up, that she was soaked to the skin and, God knew, how long she'd been on that beach. He had to act.

"I went out to get some air after the rain, saw a figure on the sand from a distance, thought someone might need help, but it was you," he said in a deliberately calm voice, and he took her gently under the elbow and led her behind him. He could see that she was in shock and that he had to take care of her physically, "We'll think about the emotional side later," he decided to himself.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly. The thought of seeing him right now was tearing her up inside. She wouldn't be able to.

"To my house, Scarlett. He's closer and you're soaked to the skin," he said briefly and she only nodded.

James decided not to talk to her, but to bring her to safety first. Dry her off, then find out the reason for her condition and go after Rhett or take her to him. "He's obviously out of his mind with worry right now," James thought.

They came to a small house, but Scarlett barely noticed the furnishings. James led her into the living room, sat her in a chair by the fireplace, and quickly melted it. The room was quickly becoming warm. He pulled the chair with her closer to the fire and only said, "Please try to warm up, Scarlett."

She still didn't raise her eyes to him, but he didn't need to, he could see the traces of tears on her cheeks.

He remembered that there was some brandy left in the cupboard in the kitchen. He rarely drank it himself, as there was rarely company for it. Besides, he wrote a lot by profession, so his head was clear most of the time. He saw her shivering from the cold and quickly headed for the kitchen.

He splashed some brandy into a glass and came quickly into the living room.

"Scarlett," he called to her quietly, sitting down in a nearby chair.

She raised her tear-red eyes to him for the first time and he was struck by that look. It was desperation, pain. He could practically feel it in his skin.

"Scarlett," he called softly to her again and held out the glass to her, "drink please, you'll warm up."

She obediently drank, coughing a little. She stared at the fire and came to her senses. The warmth of the brandy spread over her body, her fingers were warm from the fire of the fireplace, her thin cloth shoes were also drying quickly by the fire. Her dress was still damp, but usually light fabrics dried quickly.

She looked up at James and asked quietly, "James, where can I wash my face?"

He showed her to the bathroom on the first floor, next to the kitchen, and waited for her to clean herself up.

Scarlett washed her face with cold water for a long time, waking up. It was definitely about seven o'clock in the evening, dusk was beginning to fall. The children were home. But he was home too. The thought of looking into his eyes made her chest ache. She wanted to hug him so badly and so badly not to see him.

"What am I going to do?" she asked her reflection quietly.

When Scarlett came outside, Rhett thought she had gone out on the veranda to get some air. Something was wrong with her and he decided to give her space, he could see out the window that it was going to rain.

But, five, ten, fifteen minutes passed and she didn't come back. The children were downstairs, and it was already dinner time.

Rhett decided not to show his anxiety and smiled weakly, sat down in his chair and covered himself with the newspaper, drowning himself in his own anxiety and barely listening to the children's talk.

But the children began to ask questions of their own as the heavy rain pounded on the windows.

"Uncle Rhett, where's Mummy?"

"Daddy, do you know where Mummy went? I looked for her in the bedroom, but I couldn't find her."

"I want my Mummy, Daddy!"

"It's raining hard outside, Uncle Rhett..."

He needed to reassure the children and when he looked out on the veranda and realized she was gone, he just said with a smile, "Your mother must have gone for a walk, but don't worry, she'll be sheltered from the rain," he said, trying to sound confident, but he couldn't help himself.

Rhett asked Prissy to heat up dinner and feed the children while he paced around the living room.

"What happened? What the hell happened to her?" he thought desperately.

As he walked over to the fireplace to light it, he noticed a stack of letters on the mantelpiece and saw that it was their mail from Atlanta.

"Why didn't she tell me about the mail?" a thought flashed through his mind and he began to go through the letters machine-like, coming across a letter from Belle at the end.

"What the hell," he thought, then was horrified to see that the letter had been opened neatly from the side.

Rhett quickly pulled the letter out of the envelope, ran through the lines, and at the end sank tiredly into the chair beside him. He understood.

Entering the living room, James caught her eye and gestured to a chair by the fireplace.

"Sit to warm yourself further, Scarlett," he said quietly and she obeyed.

Finally, after a few minutes, he asked in an affectionate voice, "Would you like to talk?"

She sighed heavily.

James was silent and waited, he didn't want to pressure her. Their communication was based on freedom and some kind of trust they had felt since the first days.

"I ran away from home..." she began suddenly.

"That I realized," he said with a chuckle.

"I ran away from him... From Rhett..."

"Did you have a fight?"

Scarlett took another heavy breath. It wasn't even a fight, she'd just run away without explaining anything to him... Like a child.

"It wasn't a fight, James... I just left... I mean, we discussed our future life, I told him I didn't want to go back to live in Atlanta."

James nodded and said, "I understand, Scarlett. From the looks of it, you'll have no rest from the gossip there. Rhett doesn't agree?"

"He wants to protect me from gossip, to take care of me..."

"You don't think he can do that, Scarlett?"

"I don't know."

There was silence and only the logs crackled in the fireplace. Scarlett stared at the fire, then said, "We got mail from Atlanta this afternoon. Mine: from the shop, a letter from Tara. And his. I sorted the mail myself, he was outside with the children. There were letters from the bank, from our lawyer, and," she swallowed hard, but continued, "From his... Woman... Mistress..."

James frowned, but remained silent.

"I don't want to give all the details of our life with him, James, don't get me wrong. But, this woman... It's an old connection. Even before our first meeting. She owns a... a brothel. Rhett... He had a tumultuous life before me... Before the war," Scarlett said, blushing.

James nodded again, but remained silent.

"I disliked her at first sight. She wasn't just a woman, he trusted her. And... Oh..." she pressed her hands to her face, unable to finish her sentence.

James remained silent.

"I knew Rhett had a ward. A boy. He visited him often, he took care of him, paid his education. James, honestly, I didn't know who he was. I still don't know..." she said in a broken voice.

James nodded again.

"But today, when I saw that letter... I opened it, and I was outraged that she was writing to him! I know you can't read other people's letters. But I was hurt by that letter. The very presence of it," she said bitterly.

James only said, "Yes, other people's correspondence should not concern you. But I understand your feelings and your impulse. Go on, Scarlett."

"In the letter, she wrote about her business. Asked about his business, even about me and when he would be back in Atlanta," she paused here, took a breath and continued, "and at the end of the letter she asked about this ward, when he last went to see him and when he planned to go again and that she would like to go with him. It was clear from the letter that this was her son," Scarlett concluded bitterly and added in a whisper, "and his."

Her hands trembled again and she clasped them tightly together.

"Scarlett, you don't know everything for sure," James said firmly.

She remained silent, clasping her hands together in front of her and staring at the fire.

"You haven't told Rhett, have you?"

She shook her head negatively.

"But he might have seen you open the letter? Probably already discovered it, didn't he?"

She nodded.

"Then I'm afraid to imagine what state he's in now, Scarlett. He probably wants to talk to you. But he doesn't know where you are. Scarlett, you have to talk," James concluded firmly.

"I can't right now... It hurts. I think back to my miscarriage. And I can't bear the thought that he had given that woman all the care and tenderness he gave me when I was expecting Bonnie," she concluded bitterly.

"You don't know anything about that, Scarlett, it's your fantasy now, nothing more."

She suddenly looked bitterly into his eyes and said, "But there is that boy."

"Yes, there is. But, he's a child, it's not his fault in any way. Soon he'll grow up and need guardianship less and less. And, even if it is his son, it's not like he lives with you, but he's entitled to his father's attention, isn't he, Scarlett?" James explained to her calmly.

She only listened to him.

"He accepted your children unconditionally, Scarlett, from your first marriages and you can see how much he loved them. You are not required to love that boy. Just accept what he is."

"It's not even having a child that scares me, it's his connection to that woman. It's unbearable."

"You're jealous of him, aren't you?"

Scarlett flared up, then only nodded.

"And he's terribly jealous of you too, especially of that guy, a friend from your youth," James said and thought about how those two were suffering from reticence and their unspoken feelings. But the problem was different.

"Scarlett, if it's only about that woman, you have the right to demand that he reduce contact with her, explaining that it's hurting you. But, in return, you're also easing your husband's heartache by your limiting contact with that guy. Are you willing to go along with that?"

Scarlett thought for a moment, then nodded. She wanted to cut down on contact with Ashley as it was.

"But, that leaves that boy..." she said quietly.

"Are you against their meetings?"

Scarlett replied without hesitation, "No, I don't mind, as long as his mother doesn't interfere."

"That's the solution, Scarlett. All that's left is to have a word with Rhett. Don't forget that these are still our assumptions with you, I've only considered the saddest scenario for you. Maybe Rhett isn't his father at all," James concluded and shrugged.

She didn't say anything. To face Rhett... She was afraid to tell him that he was hurting her with that woman. That she was insanely jealous of him. That she loved him. Because she didn't know what she was to him.

"He might laugh at me... Or worse, take pity and say something like 'the pet is too attached to his master!' It's a terrible shame!" she thought bitterly.

Rhett walked along the beach at a brisk pace, as fast as the wet sand would allow after a heavy downpour. He searched his eyes for a familiar figure, but didn't find one.

He reassured the children and told them he was going to meet their mother, having no idea where he was going.

"Maybe she's gone to visit Aunt Gladys?" suggested Ella, but immediately retorted, "no, the carriage is there, and mammy couldn't go on foot."

"Oh, no," thought Rhett bitterly, "if Scarlett has to go somewhere, no one can stop her. No war, no two retreating armies..."

"Maybe she's gone to wait out the rain at Uncle James'?" said Wade hopefully and Rhett thought the boy might be right and he'd head down the shore to James.

Bonnie just sat there very sad and when Rhett took her in his arms she cried and in answer to his questions only said that she was afraid "that Mummy would disappear just like Lizzy's mummy did."

Rhett hugged their youngest daughter tighter and only said that he would bring their mother home soon. Then, asking Prissy to watch the children, he walked quickly out of the house into the dusk.

Scarlett continued to sit pensively in front of the fireplace and heard James' words, "I'll walk you home, Scarlett," and she nodded.

But before she could get out of her chair, there was a quick knock on the door.

James looked at her and smiled slightly.

"Sit here by the fireplace, we don't want gossip. In case it's the neighbour, he sometimes comes in to borrow a fresh newspaper to read, I always have plenty." he said and went into the hallway, closing the door behind him and Scarlett obediently sat in the chair, watching the fire burn again and again.

James opened the door and saw Rhett. He looked worried, upset, but determined. James gestured for him to keep his voice down and said, lowering his voice, "Good evening, Rhett. You're here for Scarlett, aren't you?"

He only nodded and asked, "How is she?"

James answered the same way, quietly, "I met her on the beach, she was soaking wet in the downpour. I had to bring her back here to dry off. I was going to take her to you now."

Rhett just looked at him gratefully and said quietly, "Thank you!"

James pointed to the closed door to the living room and said, "She's in there, go."

Rhett looked hesitantly at the door.

"Rhett, can I give you one piece of advice, even though I don't like to intervene?" asked James quietly.

Rhett just nodded, staring at him intently.

"I don't know why, but she believes you and everything you tell her, and it seems like she has from the beginning. Be honest with her, don't confuse things further."

Rhett sighed and James, as if reading his thoughts, added, "The hardest thing in loving someone is to have the courage to let her love you back. Go."

Scarlett was sitting in her thoughts and

didn't hear voices. Maybe it was a neighbour or someone else, it didn't matter. After a couple of minutes the door opened and without turning her head she asked quietly, "Who was it, James?"

But she didn't wait for an answer and turning her head, her heart skipped a beat.

"Rhett..." she barely whispered and saw the look of despair in his eyes. Before she could say anything, he quickly crossed the living room and sat down in front of her chair, taking her hands in his.

Scarlett tried to avoid his gaze. She was in a lot of pain and shame... Unbearably hurt. Unbearably ashamed. "He saw everything, he realized everything..." she thought.

"Scarlett," he told her in a quiet voice, "we need to talk."

"I understand, Rhett," she answered him quietly, "I'm sorry, I opened a letter that wasn't meant for me."

"To hell with that letter!" he exclaimed desperately, and added suddenly in a tone so tender and soft that Scarlett almost cried, "Scarlett, darling, let's go home, I have to explain everything to you. Let me do it..."

She remained silent. She knew she'd go with him, knew she'd give him a hundred chances to explain. She would have believed many things just to not have to endure this pain in her chest. She would forgive him anything if he would only love her.

She nodded, and he kissed her hands softly and whispered, "Thank you..." He realized that she had trusted him, that she was probably also scared and hurt by the whole situation. Hurt enough that she'd run away so she wouldn't show it to him. "Is it really," he thought with a ghostly hope, "is it all real? Can she really love me? Me?"

It was so hard to realize and accept.

Scarlett's dress was dry, but Rhett still carefully slipped his jacket over her shoulders, then took her hand and they left the living room.

James was in the hallway, looking out the window thoughtfully. He turned round and smiled slightly, "Rhett, Scarlett..."

"Thank you, James," once again Rhett said and shook his hand firmly.

"Good night James," she said quietly and added, "thank you."

They walked out and James looked after them - a tall, sturdy man gently but firmly holding the hand of a thin, little woman. "They're going to have a serious conversation," he thought to himself as he closed the door.