Rhett had once told his wife he did not care if they had one child or twenty, but as the entire family piled into the closed carriage for the chilly ride home from church he could see there might be good reasons - other than her vanity - to take preventative action. If she doesn't take matters into her own hands again. Rhett shook off the dark thought, but could not shake the unsettled feeling that dogged him. After an uncertain start, they were once again sharing her bed - just as chastely as they had at Tara. After two weeks, it was trying Rhett's resolve, his patience, the limits of libido and self-restraint. His self-imposed deadline had arrived, and the uncertainty of Scarlett's next move was beginning to fester.

Scarlett, with the baby in her arms, sat across from him with Wade at her side. Bonnie, bursting with energy after the constraints of sitting through her sister's baptism, ricocheted between Rhett's lap and peering out the window with Ella. The carriage felt cramped, and seemed to grow smaller with every smooth revolution of its wheels. Still, the noisy carriage filled with children would be preferable to what was to come - an afternoon playing host to Ashley Wilkes.

Rhett had kept a careful eye on Scarlett since their return to Atlanta, hardly even going to work himself. He was certain today was the first time his wife had seen her lover since she had fled the city over the summer. There hadn't been the opportunity for them to interact much at the church, but the man might be in his house for several hours for the reception. With the intimate nature of the party - only the Butlers, Rosemary and her husband, and Scarlett's Aunt Pitty and the Wilkeses - there would be no escape from whatever was to come. Scarlett was an open book, at least to him and to anyone else without the benevolent blindness of Melanie Wilkes, or the naïveté of Pittypat. It was one of the many reasons he had heretofore never invited his family to Atlanta. The tension in his marriage would not go unnoticed by his mother or sister, nor did he expect to be able to keep his wife's emotional love affair with another man secret.

When Pork opened the carriage door, the trio of children tumbled out like a small, unruly mob of puppies. In the scramble for freedom they seemed to have doubled, if not quadrupled, their normal number of limbs. Bonnie, as usual, was heedless of any danger or difficulty posed by the relatively long drop to the ground, but Pork was as experienced as any of them in dealing with his tiny mistress - perhaps even more so given his years of managing her doppelgänger grandfather - and he adroitly nabbed her around the waist and lowered her to the gravel drive before she could fall in her haste to follow her older siblings.

Rhett followed the children out and then turned to assist Scarlett. Instead of offering her a hand, he grasped her waist firmly in both hands and lifted her and the baby she clutched to her chest, lowering her to the drive in one smooth motion. He lingered, unwilling to abandon their privacy before absolutely necessary. Winter was taking a bold rearguard action and the brisk day quickly brought a flush to her bare skin. Despite the baby in her arms - or perhaps because she had been a new, young mother when he had met her that second time in Atlanta a decade before - when she raised her eyes to meet his at last Rhett felt his throat tighten. She looked for that moment impossibly, heart-stoppingly young. She smiled at him, showing the dimples in her pink cheeks, and her unusual eyes were as green as the far-off arrival of spring. Rhett lowered his head, ready to kiss her until he heard the grind of more carriage wheels rolling over the gravel. He stopped short and pressed his lips instead to her cool forehead.

"Let's go inside before the baby catches a chill," he muttered, pulling away.

...

Rhett leaned with one hip against the sideboard and took a sip from the too-sweet wine Scarlett had chosen to serve. The women were clustered together cooing over Alexandra, but Rhett was amused to note that Scarlett's lips were pressed firmly together in a telltale sign of irritation. Her love affair with the baby had shown no signs of letting up, so it was a relief to know some things hadn't changed. She might have a newfound tolerance for admiring her own baby, but it was not paired with patience for the feminine circus.

Unfortunately, the women being otherwise engaged meant he had sole responsibility for entertaining one man he hardly knew, and another he despised - even if the sentiment came more from his own discomfort and impotent rage over the unfamiliar feelings of jealousy that Ashley Wilkes inspired, than from any true care for the man himself. Wilkes was a feeble relic of a dying age, not worth the effort of any feeling or notice. Yet because of Scarlett, his own happiness had become inextricably bound up in the younger man's spineless equivocacy.

He had liked Rosemary's husband Joseph well enough in Charleston, but was in no rush to count the man a friend. He was a good catch for Rose, an offshoot of a lesser branch of the ubiquitous Manigault family with enough opportunistic good sense to eclipse some family members who had not recovered from the devastation of the war. He wasn't tarred a Scalawag, as Rhett, though Rhett privately thought his fortune had been a little too good to be entirely honest; but as scruples had nearly starved his mother and sister after the surrender he much preferred that she had found someone with the demonstrated ability to keep his wits as a provider.

It was perhaps inevitable that the conversation would turn to the mills, given the company. Now that Scarlett would be ready, undoubtedly eager, to get back to running the mills herself, with the boon of their connection to Ashley Wilkes, there was scarcely a subject of which he could be less fond. He devoutly wished the piles of tinder might explode before she would have the chance.

"You mentioned Mrs. Butler had interest in a sawmill, didn't you Rhett?" his brother-in-law inquired.

"Mrs. Butler has two fine mills and two lumber yards. Mr. Wilkes here manages one of the mills."

"You don't say!" Joseph exclaimed, his eyes sparking. "They're her mills, too? Not yours?"

"I did loan her some money to get started, before we were married. But she repaid every cent. I have no interest in lumber, myself."

Ashley adjusted his balance slightly. Rhett liked to imagine he looked uncomfortable, as if Rhett's lack of interest somehow reflected poorly on his own involvement in Scarlett's little schemes.

"You don't mind, then? And didn't you say something about a store?"

"She inherited a store from her second late husband. Why should I mind? Scarlett was never meant to sit placidly at home with the children and the sewing, for all that I'm sure she grew up thinking that was what she wanted." Rhett couldn't resist looking at Wilkes from the corner of his eye. Yes, he thought, and that's what she would have had with you as a husband, and you would have both been miserable. Why couldn't she see that for herself? "I'm not ashamed to have a smart wife," he added, "smarter than most men, for that matter." Rhett smiled openly at Wilkes before taking another sip of wine and was gratified to see a noticeable flush creeping up towards the other man's ears.

Such petty digs were amusing, but it wasn't enough to stave off the itch under his own collar. He longed for the days when his reputation had been a burden of which he was well shut, when he could use a few irreverent words to provoke outrage - he had possessed a talent for clearing a room or shutting down a social hour. If it weren't for the children, he could have had Ashley turning with his tail between his legs in minutes, and damn his reputation, instead of suffering through this awkward afternoon.

Two things happened simultaneously by which those children came to his rescue. Alexandra awoke and began to cry - scream being a more accurate word - and a loud crash was heard upstairs from the vicinity of the nursery.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Melanie and Pitty both.

"Oh dear," added Melanie, patting Pitty's arm. The older woman appeared in danger of hyperventilating. "There now, Auntie, I'm sure everyone is just fine. Mammy's with them, after all. But Scarlett, darling, it has gotten late!" Melanie had to raise her normally gentle voice to be heard over Alexandra's distress. "We really should be going."

Rhett saw Scarlett's eyes begin to roll, though she managed to curtail the impatient gesture. "It's fine, Melly, truly. I'll take the baby upstairs, you can stay and visit as long as you want."

"No, dear, we wouldn't want to keep you. I'll just come with you to fetch Beau."

There was a small feminine hubbub before Scarlett and Melanie departed, leaving Pitty with her smelling salts and Rosemary. After a few more minutes, the party of five was reduced to three, Pitty and Ashley having departed with Melanie and Beau. Rhett joined his sister on the sofa beneath the front window.

"Really, Rhett," she scolded, "this furniture is ridiculous. I almost have to dig my nails in to keep my seat."

"It's what Scarlett wanted," he mumbled as he drew a cigar from an engraved case, and offered another to Joseph.

At least his sister didn't laugh at him, though the arch of her elegant black brow said plenty. With one smooth look, she imparted not only her amused judgement on his indulgence of his wife, but also a wordless rebuke on the distance he had kept between wife and family. Rosemary had had quite enough to say on that subject already, though he was sure she could find yet more to say if he gave her an opening.

"Her taste is atrocious," Rose whispered for Rhett's ears only, reaching over to squeeze his free hand. Rhett shrugged.

"Thank you both, again, for coming up for the christening."

"We were honored, Rhett. And it's about time you invited me to Atlanta. Now that you've opened the door, you'll have a hard time keeping me away from my darling nieces."

The expected response would be an open invitation, but the words stuck in his throat. It was one thing to spout the empty patterns of society talk to the Old Guard stalwarts he courted so assiduously, but quite another when it was his own sister.

"We'll come back to Charleston again soon," he said instead.

"Only if you bring your charming wife next time, brother dear," Rosemary scolded.

"Bring me where?" Scarlett asked, her dimples showing as she stepped back into the parlor.

Rosemary stood and crossed immediately to take her sister-in-law's hands. "Why, to Charleston. It was really too mean of Rhett to keep you from us."

Rhett saw the clouds in Scarlett's eyes, though her smile stayed pasted on without a tremble. Her tinkling laugh sounded brittle to his ears. "It sounds lovely, of course, but I've already been away from my businesses for so long…"

"Well, you don't have to come tomorrow! And the train ride will be just miserable in summer. But do think about coming for Christmas. Mother will want to meet Alexandra, too."

Unable to stem the irritation from Scarlett's mention of work, Rhett did not come to his wife's rescue as she mumbled a noncommittal response.

That night after supper, when Scarlett would have followed her in-laws upstairs, Rhett grasped her arm to keep her behind in the parlor. Guests be damned, he was ready to have this over with.

"Rhett?" Scarlett asked, clearly puzzled, as he pulled her back into the room then released her to draw the door shut.

"Would you like a nightcap?" he asked.

"No, thank you," she said, stiffly.

"You know I don't mind."

"I don't want a drink. I want to know what's going on."

Rhett ignored her and poured himself a glass of whisky. He took a sip before taking a seat in the sofa Rosemary had criticized that afternoon.

"Did you have a nice time today?"

"Yes," Scarlett answered slowly. "Your sister is—"

"I'm not talking about Rose. But you should know, she likes you quite a bit. I would not take it kindly if you decide to treat her as you do Miss Melly."

"I love Melly!" Scarlett protested hotly. "How—"

Rhett waved a hand and spoke over her. "Yes, I know. Though you don't have to pretend with me, my dear. But I'm only trying to say, I won't be nearly as indulgent should you find yourself in flagrante with my sister's husband."

"In what?"

"In an embrace such as you shared with your lover last spring. Should your affections change, that is, though for all your flaws you have been remarkably constant there."

"How - how dare - you vile - loathsome—" Scarlett sputtered, incoherently, as her face flushed bright red. She twisted about, her hands twitching as if she searched for something to throw in his face. Marooned in the center of the parlor, nothing suitable was in reach and she fisted her hands impotently. "Why are you acting like this?"

"How do you mean?"

Not looking at him, Scarlett made a quiet reply. "You haven't been this cruel in months. I thought - oh, never mind." She turned her head and pierced him with a wet glare. "If you want to accuse me of something, just get it over with. Let me defend myself, this time. Otherwise I'm going to bed."

"I assume you'll be ready to return to work now," Rhett replied instead. Nerves, anger, and disappointment had created a headier intoxication than any whisky, and with effort he remastered his demeanor to stony indifference.

"I hadn't thought about it."

"Don't lie to me, Scarlett. You know I can't stand it."

"Why would I be lying? Isn't that more in your line?"

Rhett sharpened his gaze on the slim profile of his wife. What the hell did she mean by that?

"I wouldn't start to cast stones there, my pet. But I don't believe that you haven't been counting down the days until you could go back out into the world."

"Well, yes," she confessed. "Yes, I want to go back to work. As much as I - well, I can't stay home all the time."

"No," he murmured, remembering what he had said to Joseph and Ashley earlier that afternoon.

"But I hadn't decided, yet." Scarlett was saying. "It's been so convenient to have you bring the books home. I just...didn't feel any hurry." She rolled her shoulders and moved away to stand by the sideboard, looking tense and out of sorts.

"What's wrong?" Rhett asked, speaking gently for the first time that night.

"You don't know what it was like last summer," Scarlett muttered. "After you left, Melly dragged me around - oh, everywhere. No one would dare shut their door in her face, even if I was with her. But I know what they were all thinking." Suddenly she spun on her heel, staring him down with steel in her gaze and spine. "I guess it's what you think, too."

Rhett took a sip of his drink to cover a moment of self-flagellation. He shouldn't have left when he did. Thinking of the sleeping baby upstairs, he amended himself - he shouldn't have left at all.

"No," he admitted at last. "I don't think it is. I know Ashley Wilkes. But they," he said, with a vague gesture to encompass the whole of Atlanta society, "know you. Did you really expect otherwise, when India and Archie found you together?" Bile rose in his throat and he stood before she could answer. This wasn't quite the discussion he had intended, but suddenly he wanted to know. "For Christ's sake, Scarlett, what were you thinking?"

To his surprise, he saw tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "I was thinking of the past!" she cried passionately, raising a hand to dash away the tears before they could fall. "It was foolish and stupid. I hate to look back, but he wouldn't stop - and I thought of my mother—" Scarlett looked at him with blazing eyes and squared her jaw. "He was comforting me."

Jealousy squeezed his heart in an iron fist. He felt again the vengeful urge from that night to wrap his hands around her neck, warring with the desire to wrap her instead in his arms and force her to respond to him, not her foolish dreams.

He had chosen one path that night, letting the strings of her corset substitute for his murderous impulses. That night in April, he hadn't touched her gently in years, not since before Bonnie's birth. It hadn't seemed possible to damage their marriage more than she had already done. But now—

Rhett walked evenly across the floor, moving purposefully so as not to spook her, and wrapped his arms around his wife. He felt her stiffen, then relax, and lean her forehead against his chest.

"Like this?" he murmured, with his lips in her hair.

"Yes," she whispered, then shook her head and added, "No," even more quietly.

Rhett felt the pull of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Which is it, Scarlett?" She tried to pull away, and he held her fast. "Tell me," he said, and buried a kiss in the curls pinned to the side of her head.

Her chest rose with a deep inhale, and he could feel the shape of her breasts pressing against him. "It wasn't like this," she mumbled in a rush, "it was just comfort, from an old friend."

"This isn't comforting?"

"No - yes—"

Rhett chuckled. "You aren't usually this indecisive."

Again, she drew a deep breath, and he felt her body shift against him as she squared her shoulders. It was the familiar sign that she was drawing on a rush of her foolhardy courage.

"I mean it was just friendly, Rhett. I didn't - feel - anything, with Ashley. Not...not like this," she mumbled.

Rhett's arms drew taut with iron strength at her words. He did not answer; for a moment, he forgot even to breathe, as his brain turned only to the task of reconciling the meaning in her statement.

His introspective response did not satisfy Scarlett. With a quick movement of her arms, she flung off his embrace and stepped away. In an instant, he saw that her face was red, but splotchy with distress. Her eyes were emerald with anger even as tears spiked her thick lashes. Her lips parted, but before she could rail at him, he cupped her warm cheeks in his shaking palms and kissed her.

In quick succession, Scarlett froze, then relaxed, then pressed her lips to his with a fervor matching his own, before she gripped his fingers and tore his hands from her face as she pulled away. "No," she panted.

"Yes," he countered, ignoring her attempts to push him away while he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her against him.

"Rhett!" she protested, pushing at his chest.

"Scarlett. Stop. Honey, stop it." Perhaps it was the endearment, its sincerity as rare as a tropical butterfly in their discourse. She stopped fighting him, though she did not relax.

"Tell me more," he said. "You felt nothing but - friendship - in Ashley's embrace?" The sour words had remarkably little aftertaste in their current context.

Scarlett nodded.

"But that's not how you feel right now."

"Rhett," she protested.

"It isn't seemly," he provided for her, and grinned as she rolled her eyes. "I know you," he murmured, recalling his words from April. So, it seemed, did his wife. She raised defiant eyes to his.

"I'm not crying for the moon," she said, with only a slight quaver. "I don't want Ashley."

Rhett could only nod. He stared down at her, mesmerized by the flame twisting in her bright eyes.

"Rhett," she began, dropping her gaze to look into the distance beyond his shoulder. "Did you mean what you said that night?"

"Some of it," he hedged.

"Rhett…"

His throat was going to close up, but at least that would spare him the indignity of vomiting on her. His stomach roiled and his skin felt ice cold all over. He was afraid to swallow, but he forced the words out.

"Yes," he said shortly. "I meant it."

"Oh," she breathed. One small hand clenched around the lapel of his coat. The other moved tentatively upwards from his chest, stopping with just her fingertips at his shoulder. She licked her lips and Rhett had to stifle a groan. Her hand tugged his coat in what he assumed to be a reflexive movement, until it happened again. He lowered his gaze from her face and observed her pale skin against the dark claret fabric, watching and waiting until she unmistakably pulled at the lapel a third time.

Rhett grinned, an intoxicated pirate's grin, and conceded to her unspoken wishes. He lowered his mouth to hers, and this time her response was immediate and unrevoked. Her lips parted and her body melted against his. The hand on his shoulder completed its journey, curving around the firm muscle until her fingertips were digging into his back. Her fist released its importunate hold on his clothing and he felt instead the slim digits weaving into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Scarlett surprised him yet again with the first, tentative brush of her tongue against his lips, seeking his own.

She hadn't said she loved him, but he knew they had taken a real step forward onto a new path. The axe above his head was gone, the dread of repeating their history since Bonnie's birth clearing from his soul. He no longer needed to fear that the last few months had been a cruel trick, another honeymoon to be ripped away.

That night, he did not dream.

fin.

Y'all I am so sorry this took so long. I went on family vacation the week after my last post and didn't have time for fic; since then I have been caught up in a perfect storm of work and life that has just kept me ridiculously busy. I wanted to take another look at this last chapter, maybe edit it, maybe not have it be the end, but I am not going to get to that. When I can carve out time for writing again I want to get back to my long term WIP. On that note, I will probably be pretty quiet for awhile, as my next story is nowhere near being ready to post and not even halfway written. I might have surprise short fics, if the inspiration hits while I'm working on the longer piece. Thank you for your patience with the end of Awake and I hope you come back when I have more stories to share!