For MF: You taught me about love and survival. You will be greatly missed

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Without Margaret Mitchell, this work would not exist. I do not own any part of Gone With The Wind, and no money is being made from this story.

Part One

"Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect. We take what we get and are thankful it's no worse than it is." (Margaret Mitchell, Chapter 53, Gone With the Wind)

Chapter One: Broken Fragments

September 1873, Atlanta, Georgia

"Scarlett silently watched him go up the stairs, feeling that she would strangle at the pain in her throat. With the sound of his feet dying away in the upper hall was dying the last thing in the world that mattered." (Margaret Mitchell, Chapter 63, Gone With the Wind)

Her legs felt weak, and almost without realizing how she managed it, Scarlett sank into the nearest chair in the dimly lit but ornately decorated dining room. Jumbled thoughts rushed through her mind, and she did not know how many minutes had passed when she was suddenly startled out of her reverie by the sound of the clock chiming a new hour. Her eyes had not left the stairs, but she could barely make out the individual steps.

So much had happened in such a short time.

Scarlett had rushed from Melanie and Ashley's pitiful little home to the opulent mansion that Rhett had built her with a single-minded purpose: to inform her husband exactly how much she loved him. Kisses and caresses and a night of passion with Rhett in her bed are what Scarlett envisioned as she ran through the swirling mist that had enveloped the streets of Atlanta. Scarlett would have finally and gladly swallowed her pride, knowing that her husband did indeed love her and had for years. Precisely when she finally realized that she loved Rhett, Scarlett did not know, but she knew what she felt for the man she was married to. She loved him and probably had for some time.

Instead, Rhett had cruelly informed her that his love had worn out and that he was leaving her. He had not even allowed her to tell him how she felt. Scarlett had been willing to humble herself at his feet, but Rhett had been steadfast in his refusal to listen. There had been understanding in his black eyes, Scarlett recalled, but exhaustion was the only emotion he could muster.

When Rhett had left her bereft and crying in the dining room, Scarlett had a distinct impression that he had wanted their conversation to be over. He was finished with her, and their life in Atlanta. Rhett had spoken of grace and charm and other things that Scarlett had faintly paid heed to. She had watched him walk up the stairs, carelessly throwing her declaration of love aside like a soiled handkerchief.

In the moments that followed, Scarlett considered her next move: Tara and the beautiful red earth that had often strengthened her loomed large in her thoughts. Yes, she could return to Tara. Her childhood home and adult refuge would provide her with the time and space to heal and regroup. The crisp autumn country breezes and wide-open spaces would mend her heart. She could walk the fields and listen to the birds chirping, uninterrupted by the sounds of daily life in Atlanta. The raw beauty of the Georgia countryside would act as a salve to the pain that Scarlett was sure would come.

Mammy was at Tara and had been since after Bonnie's death. Mammy would hold her in her arms and soothe her with her wisdom. The wizened lady would know precisely what Scarlett could do to get Rhett back. Mammy always knew how to make things right. As a little girl, Scarlett had often turned to Mammy, not her mother, for comfort when she skinned her knees playing with the county boys or when things had not gone her way. The woman's recent absence had been intensely felt. A few minutes with Mammy would allow Scarlett to plot her next move.

As Scarlett thought of Tara, something unsettled her. The man, whose visits during the war had compromised her position in society and who had encouraged her to act against the tenets taught to her by her mother and Mammy, had taken no responsibility for his actions. Rhett's words and tone spoke of a man who held himself above reproach. Scarlett tried to think back to the words he had warily spoken to her, and as she tried to put together the puzzle that had been left at her feet, she began to feel a very familiar sensation: annoyance.

She shook her head, and the dullness that Scarlett had initially felt as she watched him walk up the stairs finally gave way to a wave of acute anger.

Rhett had blamed her for not calling for him as she lay thrashing in pain after her fall down the stairs and subsequent miscarriage. He had wanted her to meet him halfway after the incident at the mills. The blame for his relationship with Belle was laid solely at her feet. He had spoken of doing everything possible to convince her that they belonged together.

As Scarlett quickly replayed their conversation, what was becoming increasingly clear was that Rhett had only spoken of what he wanted and what he was willing to do. Rhett had often accused her of being selfish and single-minded in her thoughts and actions, but how were his actions any different?

Rhett had tried to make it sound like the blame lay entirely with her, and while she had been far from a perfect wife, flashes of his mistakes flashed in Scarlett's mind: a soiled handkerchief, a discarded sign, cruel, hurtful words and countless looks of indifference. Rhett's list of crimes and omissions was just as long, if not longer, than hers. And somehow, she was sitting here feeling that she was to blame for all that had gone wrong.

Scarlett would not deny that, in hindsight, she had made mistakes, but so had Rhett. Hadn't he willingly married her, knowing that she didn't love him? Scarlett had never been able to hide her infatuation with Ashley from Rhett, so Rhett had always known. Why did she suddenly feel that he believed himself to be the victim of a loveless marriage?

Thinking back to their conversation, Scarlett got the distinct impression that she had been lectured to just like Rhett spoke to the children. What she had mistaken for truth was surely Rhett's attempt to manipulate her. At first, she had been startled that Rhett would pick this night of all nights, to announce his departure and the end of their marriage. But now Scarlett understood his motivation. Rhett hadn't wanted to deal with an outburst. He had wanted to make his exit without being challenged. The suddenness of Melanie's death should have provided the perfect cover for him to make his departure.

Rhett's arrogance and self-assurance were hardly shocking; they were both typical traits that she had lived with for so long.

Rhett had expected her to take the news of his departure quietly and he had anticipated that she would remain silent and wait for him to come back to keep the gossip down, just as he had promised, but for the first time in a long time, Scarlett felt like sparring with him. She had rarely won their verbal battles during the twelve years of their acquaintance and had long ago given up engaging in these frustrating spats with him. There was no point. Somehow or other, Rhett always seemed to come out as the clear winner with an arrogant smirk on his triumphant face. In the early years of their marriage, she had never backed away from an argument, but once she realized that she would never win against this proud and smug man, Scarlett had decided it wasn't worth her energy.

Tonight was a different matter altogether. Her dearest friend and protector had departed this earth, leaving her alone to face whatever troubles life threw at her. Melly would not be there to help ward off the blows or quietly put the pieces back together. There would be no more modest suggestions or bold actions from her one true friend. Scarlett chastised herself for not realizing how important Melanie Wilkes had become to her. Scarlett felt so very alone and afraid.

Scarlett raised her eyes and glared towards the stairs. She would not beg Rhett to stay, nor would she grovel at his feet like she had minutes before, but she was also not ready to give her husband the satisfaction of having the last word. Rhett may not change his mind, but she would make him listen to her. If there was no chance of saving their marriage, she had nothing to lose by confronting him. Scarlett could not wait for tomorrow to consider her options. This philosophy had worked for her in the past, and in her troubled state, it was the first thought that entered her mind. And for the first time in her life, Scarlett realized that her old mantra was actually a hindrance to her.

Scarlett knew that what needed to be said between her and Rhett couldn't wait for tomorrow. If she waited, she was confident that she would not be able to reverse the outcome of the evening. Two men would be lost to her: one that she thought she loved and one that she would never get the opportunity to love. Rhett was everything Ashley wasn't: powerful, determined, and unyielding. Like Ashley, however, Rhett was now a dream she could never attain. Melanie had stood between her and Ashley. Rhett's insistence on the demise of their marriage now stood between what Scarlett wanted most: her husband.

The irony was that Rhett was leaving her so she could be with Ashley now. Scarlett's emotions over her childhood friend and fantasy were still conflicted in her tired mind. The Ashley that she had just left was weak and heartbroken. If Scarlett were honest with herself, she would add a coward to the list. Ashley had known for years that he loved Melly and not Scarlett, but had kept that information to himself, thus prolonging the unhappiness that had swirled around the two couples. With a few words, Ashley would have crushed Scarlett's heart and, at the same time, freed her from her childish obsession.

Now it was too late.

Scarlett had realized, some time ago, that she didn't want Ashley. Since the afternoon of the incident at the sawmills, when India and Archie had walked in on two friends reminiscing, she had begun to hate and pity Ashley for his weakness and his lies. Ashley Wilkes was not the perfect gentleman she had created in her mind since the age of fourteen. He was a coward. Tonight's revelations had proven it. Scarlett, in the two years since, had thought of him less, and she certainly did not want him now.

She wanted Rhett, and her husband had told her that she couldn't have him.

Well, she would show Rhett. There had been only one thing in life that she thought she wanted and hadn't been able to attain: Ashley. That was probably for the best as she now realized how truly spineless the man was and how incompatible the two of them were. Rhett had been right all those years ago. She and Rhett were alike and did belong together.

Tonight had also brought certain revelations. For the first time in almost twelve years, Scarlett knew precisely what her husband was thinking. There was no question that Rhett believed their marriage was over. The words he had spoken to her in the very dining in which she sat paralyzed still rang in her ears:

"Mine wore out."

"My dear, I don't give a damn."

As dense as her husband accused her of being, even Scarlett recognized the seemingly unwavering conviction in his words. While their conversation had lacked warmth, there was no hint of Rhett's usual sarcasm or cruelty. For the first time in possibly their entire relationship, Scarlett knew that Rhett had told her the truth. His mask had finally given way.

But his truth was only one version of it.

Bonnie's tragic death, despite Rhett's insistence, had not been the last thread holding their marriage together. In hindsight, maybe she shouldn't have brought up having more children to Rhett earlier in the evening. Rhett had recoiled, like a man stung by a wasp, at the words that Scarlett imagined would bring them closer together. Those had been the wrong words to utter. Did she even mean to say them?

"I'll not risk my heart a third time."

Bonnie had been one, of that Scarlett was sure. Rhett's love for their little girl had, at times, infuriated Scarlett and produced unexplainable jealousy. Scarlett did not like playing second fiddle to anyone, not even her daughter.

Had she been the first risk, Scarlett wondered? Rhett was so vague in his statements sometimes. Scarlett would think about that later, she decided. The more pressing matter before Scarlett was for her to figure out a way to change his mind. If Rhett were leaving, she would not chase him, but perhaps she could convince him to stay. Then everything could go back to normal, and they could figure out how to live together as husband and wife.

Somehow, Scarlett already knew Rhett would fight her with every fiber of resistance he possessed.

Her anger flared once again, and before she could talk herself out of it, Scarlett squared her shoulders and walked towards the stairs. As noiselessly as possible, she ascended the carpeted stairs and proceeded down the long hallway towards Rhett's bedroom.

When she reached his room, Scarlett stood in the wide-open doorway, looking into Rhett's darkened room. Her husband had not closed the door or even locked it after his retreat upstairs. Scarlett leaned her body against the doorframe in her fatigue. She was heartbroken at the news of Melly's death and exhausted from the frantic trip into Atlanta. It had only been a few hours since she had left Melly's deathbed, but it felt much, much longer. This scene was not how she envisioned her evening unfolding, especially after her final conversation with her dying sister in law.

The room was dark and oppressive. Scarlett stood watching Rhett, who had either not noticed her presence in the doorway or was doggedly ignoring her. The air was heavy with the scent of her husband's tobacco and something uniquely Rhett. She could see the outline of him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Rhett was slightly slumped over, with both hands on his knees. Scarlett ached to touch him and hold him in her arms.

But something held her back, and Scarlett did not move.

Rhett's handkerchief was still clutched in her hands. Scarlett had an acute awareness of her physical state. She breathed deeply. The dullness that had permeated her body earlier had given way to sharp pain. The intense pain had slowly become an ache. As she watched her husband, she imagined that he must be feeling much the same as she did, but she couldn't keep silent.

"God's nightgown! Rhett Butler, don't you dare try to blame me for this marriage being over!"

The statement, clear and unemotional, flew from her mouth without hesitation. There was no trace of desperation or ferocity in her tone. When Rhett's black, vacant stare met hers, she knew her declaration had hit its mark. Her husband had not expected this. He had not expected her to fight back or challenge his decision. In his supreme arrogance, Rhett had presumed that she would surrender to his wishes, and he could peacefully leave their house of horror.

Tonight, however, something stirred in her, and her fighting spirit was no longer dormant. In that instant, their previous relationship shattered, and they both realized, as was evident by the look they quietly exchanged, that nothing would ever be the same. The rules of their association, their marriage, had been altered.

Scarlett had changed them.

Rhett sat immobile on the edge of the bed. For some time, all he had been able to do was sit in the near darkness of his room and take stock of the situation. A single candle lit the room; it flickered and ricocheted eerie images against the wall. How had he arrived here? A loveless marriage to the only woman he had ever loved. Rhett suddenly realized that he couldn't spend another evening in this house. He could not envision another sleepless night laying in a bed with his indifferent and unavailable wife on the other side of the hallway. A door that had been unlocked and ajar for quite some time. Scarlett's naive attempts to lure him back to her bed had not gone unnoticed. But he would be damned if he was going to be drawn into Scarlett's web once again.

Rhett hurt. Everything hurt. His head was pounding, and he felt his equilibrium shift. Bonnie's bed was still in his room, not that he'd slept there often since the little girl's death. Rhett could still picture his daughter's body in her tiny bed. More often than not, in the few weeks since the accident, he found himself waking at Belle's, morosely drunk. He was always alone for the very idea of sleeping with one or all of Belle's girls held no appeal. Belle's charms had diminished long ago. Rhett hadn't said as much to Belle, but he could read Belle's unspoken thoughts almost as quickly as he could Scarlett. Belle knew that his attraction to her had waned.

The other patrons and even some of Belle's girls eyed him with open sympathy for the loss of his daughter Bonnie, but no one admonished him for spending his days and nights in a whore house. Everyone, including Belle, steered clear of him except to ensure he ended up in his room at the end of the night when he was too drunk to stand. But even Rhett knew he was waking up in the wrong house and the wrong bed. There was no need for Belle or anyone else to tell him where he should be. However, knowing and rectifying his error were two conflicting ideas.

Then, unexpectedly, just as Scarlett had decided to take the children to Marietta, Belle had sent him away, requesting he go home to his wife. Rhett never quite understood that. He didn't want to. It wasn't going to bring Bonnie back, and he wasn't sure if he could survive in Scarlett's house of horror much longer. Everything in it reminded him of the little girl he had killed. Rhett imagined he could hear Bonnie's laughter or the patter of her feet in the nursery. Some mornings Rhett was further saddened by the reality that he had woken up yet again — another day without her.

Running his hands through his close-cropped hair several times in quick succession, a clear sign of his uncertainty, Rhett lifted his head once more to stare at his wife, who stood watching him quietly from the doorway.

"I thought you understood that this conversation was finished, Scarlett. I said everything that I had to say downstairs. Please leave me in peace." When Rhett spoke, his words came out more like a snarl. He didn't want to be doing this now. He wanted peace to process the finality of his farce of a marriage. A sham mainly of his own making Rhett realized. Before looking at the thin, frail woman in front of him became too much for him to bear, Rhett shifted his focus to a point on the wall where shadows danced eerily on the surface.

"How long, Rhett?" Scarlett's question was a whisper.

"How long, what?" he sighed. Evidently, he had not made his wishes evident to his wife.

"When did you decide to leave?"

"Scarlett. Please stop," he begged.

"No. I have a right to know. You said you intended to tell me when I came home from Marietta. That means that you've been thinking about it for some time. Before Bonnie? After Bonnie?"

Rhett could not deal with Scarlett's insistence tonight. Why couldn't she leave him alone to grieve for Miss Melly and their marriage?

"It doesn't matter, Scarlett." Rhett could hear her intake of breath. He didn't want to hurt her any more than he already had. Why couldn't she leave him alone?

Very slowly, Scarlett moved from the door, and with each stride towards him, Rhett sensed that she was trying to take charge of the situation. He watched her pause abruptly, close her eyes, take in a deep breath of stale air, before sitting gingerly beside him. He tried to stop himself, but Rhett felt himself shrink away from her. A touch might crush his resolve to leave.

"It does, Rhett. Why do you get to make all the decisions? You've decided this marriage is over. You've decided that you want to leave. You did everything you could to get me to love you. All I've heard is you, you, you. What about me? What about what I might want?" Scarlett spoke her last words so quietly that Rhett had to strain to hear her. She tentatively reached across her lap for his hand, and he was surprised when he didn't snatch it away. "I'm sorry, Rhett. I know I can be a good wife to you if you let me try."

"Scarlett." Her name punctuated the silence. "I have nothing left to say to you, and I have no intention of listening to any of your empty declarations. It's too late for us."

"But I love you, Rhett. I know this is love now." He watched her as she used his handkerchief to wipe the tears that threatened to fall. Where they even real tears, or was this a trick to manipulate him into staying? "Why won't you let me prove to you that I don't love him."

"I can't."

Scarlett's words were sincere, but Rhett couldn't stop the look of pity that crossed his face. He couldn't let her words pierce the shield around his heart.

"Rhett. Please," she pleaded, squeezing his hand in hers. Scarlett's eyes shimmered with tears, and he looked away before her honesty became his undoing.

"No, Scarlett. You still don't understand. I don't want you to prove to me that you don't love Ashley." Rhett exhaled, his voice was calm when he continued. "I needed you to prove to me that you loved me. Wanted me. Not him. Do I believe you when you said you loved me earlier this evening? Yes. I believed you just now, but I don't care anymore. I don't want to do this anymore."

"I don't want Ashley, Rhett. You must believe me," Scarlett insisted.

"I thought that hearing you say that you loved me would be enough," Rhett mumbled, "but it isn't anymore. I'm tired of your lies, and I'm through with pretending that I don't care. I never thought that I'd allow another person to cause me this much pain. But there you have it, and now you have another beau to add to your list."

"I don't understand, Rhett. If I love you surely-"

"I'm not surprised to hear that you don't understand me, Scarlett. You never have. But I think that even you can understand my next words. This marriage is killing me. I'm slowing dying being here with you. I don't want to be married to you anymore. Can you understand that?"

Rhett stood, letting her hand, which had been pressed around his, fall to the bed. He walked purposefully to the window. Even though the darkness and fog enveloped the house, he scanned the yard.

"I know that you love me, Rhett, despite what you said earlier."

"It doesn't matter, my pet." Rhett exhaled deeply. "I'm willing to admit that we did this to each other, Scarlett. I understand that more clearly now. We both did things and said things to hurt each other. Neither one of us ever really listened to what the other was saying. We seem to be falling into the same pattern tonight."

"Rhett, if we are to blame, then we should also be able to fix the problem."

"This is too hard. Too much work. Love shouldn't be this hard, Scarlett."

"You can believe that if you want Rhett and you can tell yourself that you don't care, but you're not fooling me. Do you believe that there is someone out there that can love you more than I can?"

"Sometimes, love just isn't enough." Slowly, Rhett turned to look at her. He searched her face for a sign of her understanding. "There are consequences, Scarlett. There are consequences to how you treat people. And yours is that I don't love you anymore."

Rhett watched her intently and could almost see her thoughts racing as her features shifted.

"What about the children? What do I tell the children?" Scarlett's voice was suddenly frantic. Had either of them considered what this would do to Wade and Ella? They would return to Atlanta to find their beloved aunt dead, and the only father either of them had known, gone. Could he do that to his step-children? To save himself, Rhett would have to sacrifice his love for Wade and Ella.

"Tell them the truth, Scarlett. Tell Wade and Ella that I love them." Rhett walked over to the bed and reaching down, took her smaller hand in his. "I hadn't planned to leave right away, but I see now that it's better if I go tonight. I regret not being here for Melly's burial, but I can't do this. Any of this. I don't want to fight with you anymore. I'm tired of all of this."

Though the room was dimly lit, Rhett could see tears falling freely down her cheeks. Scarlett was looking at him with a pleading look in her eyes. He could feel her firm, warm grasp of his hand. If he didn't let go now, he might never leave. Already he wanted to reach out to her and wipe the tears from her cheeks. But that one, intimate touch might break him.

"Try to be happy, Scarlett." Rhett gently placed her hand on her lap. "You still have Wade and Ella. Love them. Let them love you. You deserve to be loved. There is no weakness or cowardice in that." His next words caught in his throat. The very thought caused his heart to seize as if someone was squeezing the life out of it. "Maybe one day you'll be able to let someone into your life and let them love you."

The room filled with silence.

In the semi-darkness, Rhett looked into her eyes one last time and then picked up his coat and walked past her and into the hallway. He had to leave. There was no other option. She was a child and would never change. He had watched how she looked at him intently as if she was trying to memorize the way he looked so that upon his departure, she would be able to pull out the memories and play them in her mind. Rhett could see she was fighting some inner demons. He would not be there to witness the outcome.

Scarlett, still sitting on Rhett's bed, heard his muted footsteps on the stairs, and then his heavy tread faded. With every word he had uttered, a piece of her heart had broken. Then he had just walked away from her, from their marriage, from their life. Despite wanting to curl up on his bed, Scarlett found that she couldn't move. All she could do was replay the events of that day over and over again in her mind. What could she have said differently? What were the right words to speak to a man that you had inadvertently hurt, but who was also the one person who could cure the empty feeling in your heart?

She had lost. She had broken the man she loved, and now he was lost to her. She didn't know how to fix this situation, or if it could even be mended. Scarlett wanted to cry out in frustration, but she knew she wasn't the only one to blame.

They had both had a hand in throwing it all away.

A.N. I'll apologize beforehand for the extended author's note.

I know of no other book that has cast a spell on so many people, myself included. The ending of GWTW can, at different times and readings, make us feel smug or righteous or satisfied. I always felt a little disappointed. "After all, tomorrow is another day" allowed me to think that the impossible was, in fact, possible. There are so many unanswered questions in the final chapter, and this is one possibility of Rhett and Scarlett's journey.

This story began with a question: Why didn't Scarlett "fight" back during her marriage to Rhett, but especially on that final night? Was it the unexpectedness of the conversation? Was it the shock of Melly's death? Was it that Scarlett was worn down by seemingly never winning an argument during her marriage to Rhett? Scarlett is a fighter until that last chapter.

I always thought Rhett misread Scarlett's intentions in the last chapter and walked away too quickly. For someone who claims to know Scarlett so well, he doesn't know her, as he shows throughout the novel. Melly also tells Scarlett that she knows Scarlett better than anyone. Who truly knows Scarlett?

Also, what's up with Marietta? Did Rhett send Scarlett off knowing that he would leave? Was he planning on being gone before she came home? Why was he still in Atlanta when Melanie fell ill? Something doesn't add up.

Lastly, this story will be mostly book-based, and not movie based, which I feel does a disservice to MM's masterpiece, especially Rhett walking away into the mist. The resemblance to any of the authorized "novels" (published fanfics in my opinion) written by authors other than MM is purely coincidental.

I owe a special thank you to Truckee Gal for her encouragement to stop dawdling and keep writing.