Tara Personified

Disclaimer: I do not own Gone with the Wind or any of the characters.

Summary: He'd thought he'd been strong. He'd thought walking away from his tormentor and hurting her as she'd hurt him were measures of his masculinity. A year in Charleston and a rather frank conversation with his mother had let him know otherwise.

Author's Note: Hello. This is my first Gone with the Wind fic and, unless inspiration strikes the hell out of me, it will more than likely be my last. I've always been a bit skeptical about Gone with the Wind fanfics, even though there are some amazing ones out there, simply because Gone with the Wind was a masterpiece. This idea sort of popped into my head the other day and I just couldn't help but write it down. Despite following Rhett, this story is very much a story about Scarlett so don't let the summary fool you.

It is also more reflective than purposeful and does nothing more than express my own thoughts about the original story and of the characters. I have my own rants and thoughts about the novel and movie and most of the time they don't mesh with everyone else's so don't be surprised if this doesn't melt your butter. Nevertheless I hope this enjoyable to read and, if it's not, feel free to tell me that too.

Rhett Butler did not bow to the whims and wishes of others. He was a man's man and had always prided himself on his inner strength, powers of persuasion and natural mastery of self preservation. He needed no one's approval, didn't want it, never asked for it. His mother, however, was the one person whose opinion he never shunned, whose words were always taken to heart.

When he'd left Scarlett back in Atlanta he'd immediately returned to Charleston hoping to find solace in his family, in the last place he'd taken Bonnie. He could still hear her laugh in his mother's house, her footsteps in the hall and it comforted him to a point. And when it didn't help, his mother did. She was always there for him to lean on, for him to talk to and for the first time in his life, South Carolina felt like home.

Whispers had begun to follow him down the street, however, at the mark of a year and though he could ignore them his mother could not. Would not. She'd sat him down and lectured him on his duty as a man, as a husband and as a stepfather. It had surprised him, his kind and caring mother, the only one who'd ever stuck by him no matter what was kicking him out of the nest and, for a while, he'd debated leaving and traveling abroad, ignoring her concerns.

That thought process didn't last long as she'd seen right into his devious mind and squashed that hope with the threat of returning to Atlanta with him.

In the end her argument was sound. He'd been away for a year and, if Charleston was beginning to talk, Atlanta was having a field day at the Butler family's expense. He'd promised Scarlett he'd be back to save face and he intended to keep that promise. It didn't help that his year away had cleared his mind of impulsive rage, mild insanity and outrageous grief.

Time had cooled his temper and smoothed his jagged tongue of cruel words. Distance had made him see that he was nothing but a liar and a coward and the guilt he felt at not only leaving the children unexpectedly but leaving Scarlett in the midst of not one, not two but three tragedies was immeasurable. He had been hurt and devastated beyond belief but he'd also left her when she'd needed him. He'd broken every vow and promise he'd made to her and their children during their marriage and had even broken a promise he'd made to Miss Melly.

To make matters worse his mother had called him on it. Sure she'd let him come home and grieve, lick his wounds and recover but as soon as he'd recovered, she'd knocked him for a loop in a way that only a mother can. He had told her naught of his marital struggles but she knew.

He knew she knew.

It was in the way she'd looked at him with disapproval, the way her tone had held disappointment. He didn't know how but he supposed that was a mother's job; to know without being told. She'd held her tongue a lot longer than he'd expected but when the whispers had started she'd let loose.

He still wasn't sure what had surprised him more: how much she'd known about his marriage to Scarlett or the fact that she'd not so kindly told him to either finish what he'd started or divorce her.

And divorce was never an option when it came to Scarlett. He had threatened her with it, yes, but he'd never meant it even at his worst. Despite it all he still loved her. He couldn't stop loving her no matter how hard he'd tried and her pleas for him to stay and declarations of love had haunted his dreams ever since he'd walked out on her.

He'd thought he'd been strong. He'd thought walking away from his tormentor and hurting her as she'd hurt him were measures of his masculinity. A year in Charleston and a rather frank conversation with his mother had let him know otherwise.

And his delicate mother spared nothing when trying to ensure her son's happiness. She'd reminded him that the measure of a man was not his strength but his ability to accept his weaknesses and Scarlett was nothing if not a weakness. A crippling, all encompassing weakness that simply would not let him go. He wasn't entirely sure what it was about her, it wasn't like he needed her to survive but he wanted her. Distance and the threat of the end had made him see that he'd rather spend the rest of his life miserable with her than happy alone or in the arms of another woman.

No other woman made him feel the way Scarlett made him feel and he knew that she was it for him. For better or worse and, since they'd already had their worst, things could only get better.

It was this thought process that had led him to Atlanta and back to his wife. He'd traveled without pause to make it back to her and had arrived in record time. He had never thought he'd see the day when he'd be happy to behold the heinous monstrosity that was their home but he hadn't been able to suppress a smile at the sight of their ghastly abode.

His joy had been short-lived as he'd opened the door and found the house completely empty. It had been completely gutted and for a moment he'd wondered if they'd been robbed. The thought was not only fleeting but preposterous. He couldn't think of a soul alive with enough moxie to rob Scarlett or the bad taste to want their furniture.

A bit of discreet sleuthing had afforded him the knowledge that his wife had left town with the children the day after his departure and a short visit to Uncle Henry had proven to be most helpful as the older man had let him in on the details of Scarlett's disappearance. Details the rest of Atlanta had not been privy to.

He wasn't sure just why the news of his wife selling their belongings, buying out her sisters and relocating to Tara surprised him but it did. She only went to Tara when she needed to get back on her feet and in all the time they'd been married she'd never expressed an urge to live there permanently.

The thought that his leaving could have affected her so deeply had made him shamefully cheerful and his rush to Tara had been even more hurried than his trip to Atlanta.

00000

Scarlett had obviously been busy in the last year, Tara was as beautiful as it had ever been if not more so. He could honestly see how she drew strength from the old place. It had a strong foundation in her heart as her childhood home and was all she had left of the world she grew up in. It was constant in a world that was always changing and was the reason why she was able to pick up and carry on time after time.

He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected as he'd stopped his horse and approached the house but the silence he was met with most definitely wasn't anticipated. Tara had always been lively, as were Scarlett and the children and noise, whether happy or sad, followed the presence of each not this deafening silence.

Before he could make his presence known to the household the door was flung open and his stepdaughter rushed to him in a fit of tears. Happy or sad he didn't know. Wade followed her at a distance, never straying from the doorway and looking a tad too grown for a boy his age. Scarlett's eldest coolly spoke before he could ask where their mother was, telling him that she was in the fields.

Rhett could feel his anger rise almost as soon as the words left Wade's mouth. He hadn't even seen her yet and he was already irritated with her.

When Uncle Henry had informed him of her move to Tara he had envisioned her living as mistress of the house, like a queen; lord knew she had enough money to do so. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined her working like some field hand. He could picture her now, dirty and in rags and if anything that displeased him even more.

Wade was either unaware of his change in mood or ignored it as he took his sister from his stepfather's arms, holding her himself as he led him around the back of the house. Rhett's eyes wandered the fields as they walked, searching for his wife but his efforts were in vain. She was nowhere to be found.

He turned to the children who, for all intents and purposes, were his and was about to speak but Wade just shook his head and continued on. They walked forever, passing endless fields of cotton before Tara's profitable crop was but a memory and endless fields of nothing stretched before them.

Quickly growing tired of his stepson's antics, Rhett again began to speak but a sight in the distance stopped him. Wade stopped and audibly swallowed from beside him as Ella began to sob in his arms.

He still wasn't sure whether or not the child was happy.

Before he could question her behavior Wade began to tell him of the last year as he rubbed his sister's back soothingly if not a bit awkwardly. She was a bit old to be carried and a bit big for someone of Wade's size.

His son told him of being swept from Atlanta at a moment's notice, of returning to Tara and immediately beginning to work on making the plantation beautiful again. He was told of how kind his wife had become to her children even as she grew harsher to the world around her, even as she put walls up around herself in a last ditch effort of preservation. Wade let him in on everything he'd missed, on the new philosophy Scarlett had adopted in order to get over the loss of her two children, Melly and him.

"I need to return to the basics of life, Wade," she had apparently said. "This farm, this way of life is what made me who I am and, though I haven't always been the best person, I've tried my best to provide for you and your sister. To let you both know in my own way that I loved you even though I held you at a distance as I tried to keep you from suffering what I have suffered."

The speech continued by way of interpreter and Rhett idly wondered how many times Wade had heard it as he recited it with confidence and without pause, as though the words of his mother were the most important words he'd ever heard. Or would ever hear.

For all his wife's faults Scarlett had always been a pillar of strength and had an innate sense of survival. He found her words wise and absently thought over their marriage.

How many times had she said something intelligent that he'd missed?

How many times had he berated her for something that actually made sense?

As Wade drew her address to a close, Rhett turned his attention back to the boy who seemed to have hardened to the world in his absence and, once again, began to ask where Scarlett was. His son beat him to the punch for a third time, eerily reminding him of his mother who had no qualms about cutting someone off when she had something to say.

Oh how the boy had changed in a mere year. No longer was he the son of Charles Hamilton. He was now, undoubtedly, the son of Scarlett O'Hara. Why he could practically see the legendary O'Hara spirit welling within the boy.

What brought about this change, Rhett could only guess.

Wade continued to tell his stepfather of their struggles with an air of detachment, though it was not lost on Rhett that a tone of deep respect would enter his voice whenever he spoke of his mother. It seemed the boy had finally grown up enough to recognize the sacrifices his mother had made for him, what all she'd done to ensure his health and continued survival.

For the first time since he'd known the child, Wade Hampton Hamilton didn't appear to be scared. He was fast becoming a young man and, though he had nothing to do with the development, Rhett was proud. Proud that Scarlett had deemed fit to finally connect with at least one of her children.

His suspicions from earlier were proven correct as Wade told of Scarlett's endless days in the field, picking cotton faster and more efficiently than any man and Rhett wasn't surprised to find that Wade had seemingly been beside her the entire time. The boy had always loved his mother, though fearful of her and there was no doubt in his mind that, when he had left, Wade had been there for her.

Wade had been there in the ways Rhett should have been and though it made him proud of his son, it made him all the more ashamed of himself.

He was told of Mammy's premature departure from the world, lost to an unknown illness and Scarlett's resulting increased workload. She would work from early dawn till hours after dark and, though angry at her for her foolishness, he was remotely mollified by the knowledge that Wade had been there with her. He had never left her.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Rhett was finally allowed to inquire as to Scarlett's exact whereabouts. They'd been in the fields for hours and there had been no sign of her despite the earlier assurance that this was, in fact, where she was.

Did Wade's subterfuge have meaning?

Purpose?

Was this all a ruse to show him that his wife and family did not need him and that he should return from whence he came?

Were Wade and Ella sent to disarm him so Scarlett wouldn't have to deal with him?

Had her supposed love been lost so quickly?

Had he turned her against him with his act of self preservation?

It seemed as though he would get no answer as Wade let Ella to the ground and took her hand, quietly walking her to the figure in the distance. Rhett followed the children, unsure if he should allow this ploy to continue. This calculated evasion was too intricate a plot for Scarlett to weave and, therefore, must have been a product of the Hamilton intelligence.

A sharp pain struck his heart at the thought that the children, who had once adored him to no end, now hated him for the suffering he'd brought to their mother. He had hoped that no matter what happened between he and his wife, whether they reconciled as he wanted to or she sent him away again, that the children would be untouched by their relationship but it seemed as though time had endeared their mother to them and that his hopes were not possible.

He couldn't blame them. She was the one constant in their life.

Tired of the game yet eager to see where Wade's thought process lead, Rhett decided to continue following the children to the figure in the distance in silence.

As they closed in on it Rhett saw that it was a seemingly empty fenced in area and his heartbeat quickened anxiously when, finally upon it, he realized that it was the family cemetery. Wade led him past the graves of Ellen, Gerald and Mammy before finally settling on the one thing he'd prayed and hoped against all hope to never be alive to see. The grave of Scarlett O'Hara.

And she was marked as Katie Scarlett O'Hara, much to his displeasure. They were still married damn it!

Had she requested the marker on purpose in order to hurt him should he return?

Why the hell hadn't he been notified of the illness of his wife?

Of her death?

Was this some sort of cruel trick in order to make him pay for hurting her?

He looked around hoping that it was but she was still nowhere to be found and, as Ella began to cry again, he allowed himself a tear for her. For them. For what he'd come there hoping they could have had.

He'd never felt his age more than he did at that moment and found himself halfheartedly listening to Wade as he explained the events after Mammy's death. He explained that Scarlett had been involved in a carriage accident in the fields late one night and, while her mind and wit had remained as sharp as ever, her body was no longer able to contain her strength. Her body had been too weak.

He supplied Rhett with the knowledge that Scarlett loved him till the end and that her marker as O'Hara had been of his own design. It was meant to show that his mother hadn't just been someone's wife or someone's mother, that she had been the daughter of Ellen and Gerald O'Hara. That she had been a daughter of the South, the Old South; an obelisk of resilience who needed no man to support her. Her place at Tara, away from Atlanta and, as such, away from Bonnie and the unborn baby, had also been borne of Wade's psyche though the boy was a bit more reserved in his explanation of that decision than the selection of what name to remember her by.

Wade left him then, taking Ella and what remained of his wife with him.

He had never felt so old before. The shunning of his family, his early years as a nomad and the loss of his children all seemed to pale in comparison to the death of his wife. It was in this emptiness that he finally came to realize that Scarlett was his Tara. Scarlett was his backbone. Despite their quarrels and differences and the tragedy they brought each other, she was his basic. She was what he needed to return to in order to continue with life. He drew from her power and her relentless determination.

In that moment he admired her and envied her. He was jealous of the fact that she'd been smart enough to make her strength not a person, not an object but land. This land would never perish. This land would always stand. It could be burned, fertile soil destroyed, but it could always be recovered. Land would last and last until the end of time and, unfortunately, people were expendable. People were not guaranteed but never in a million years had he expected the strongest person he'd ever known to go before him. He had always imagined that she would be around for him to draw life from whether they were together or not.

It seemed that no loss had been too great, no obstacle too high or wide for her to overcome, no death too sad. No matter what happened she got up and dusted herself off with promises of tomorrow and dreams of Tara.

He was not so strong. He was weak.

He was a weak, weak man and though he had returned, just barely, from the deaths of his children, he feared that this was a loss he would not overcome. This was an obstacle too large, this death too sad and, as he turned back to the house, he felt old. He felt far older than his years and too weak for this broken ground to sustain.

He locked himself in her room and buried himself in her bed, her scent, her essence. His efforts to draw from her strength were in vain and, when he was laid to rest a month later, Wade made the executive decision, after much internal debate, to lay him beside her. Tara was his mother's one true home and, as such, he would not allow her body to be moved to Atlanta to rest with his siblings or to Charleston so his stepfather could be near his mother and it didn't seem right to separate them.

Not now.

Despite his ire with his father, Wade couldn't bear the thought of them not being together, not after the effort he had exerted to return to her. It was the Charles Hamilton in him. But the Scarlett O'Hara in him wouldn't allow his mother's name to be changed to accommodate her husband's presence either.

Scarlett O'Hara had belonged to no man and would not be remembered as someone's wife as long as he had anything to say about it. Not even the wife of the man she loved.

Please review.