There was a deafening bang.

Scarlett lay on the ground, eyes open.

Pure terror stole over his whole body. Rhett shook her limp body violently, tears streaming down his face.

She just couldn't die. She was his everything. Without her there, his life lost all semblance of meaning… there was nothing more unbearable than having to look at her cold corpse and explain to her children how he had killed their mother and the one woman he had ever lived. He would give up his soul if it meant that anyone would help, would save his precious darling this one last time.

No more steadfast Scarlett, waiting in Atlanta for him to return when the longing became too powerful. There was nothing that would be able to calm his desperate and insatiable need for her. No more of the woman he loved, only the corpse that would lie in the ground soon. No more light in his dark existence.

No more pretend, she's gone, that's the end…

"Ow!"

Rhett's eyes snapped open as he took in his surroundings.

"Scarlett," he cried, his voice coming out shaky and much higher in pitch than she had ever heard before.

She was alright. She was sitting in bed and he was straddling her, his fingers still digging into her shoulders. It was still dark outside. They could stand to hide from their problems just a little bit longer.

It had only been a dream. Scarlett was still alive.

The gun went off just as Rhett had launched himself at her.

The gun clattered to the ground as both Scarlett and Rhett were knocked to the ground by his weight and momentum.

He wrapped her in a tight embrace and felt her shudder once. Twice. Thrice. He chanced a glance at her face and noticed that her emerald eyes were brimming with tears. Her body shook with repressed sobs as she tried to pull it together.

"Oh, darling. It's alright, you're going to be okay." Rhett stroked her hair lovingly.

He felt her sobbing get more intense as she stopped trying to hold back the tears.

It was torture to hear her sniffling and pained cries in the dark night. He did his best to soothe her, whispering kind words of little sense in her ear. He continued to whisper in her ear and caress her hair, even after the tears had halted.

Scarlett eventually stilled against his chest.

Rhett buried his head in her hair, crushing her body against his. It comforted him immensely that he could feel her every breath, that she could still draw air into her lungs. Her arms were stuck uselessly between them and he wanted to keep them there, even if it wasn't the most comfortable. If he let go for even a moment, she just might…

"Why'd you stop me?"

Rhett instantly pulled himself back to the present. His bruising fingers still dug into her shoulders in an attempt to rein in the intense emotions swirling through him. He scoured her eyes for a sign. Anything that might reveal how she truly felt.

Her blank and apathetic countenance drained his hope.

"I couldn't let Ella and Wade lose another person, even if you are a rather poor mother." It was too easy for him to seamlessly switch from the loving husband to the cruel stranger. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to comfort and help her rather than bait and sting her. Everything was all wrong.

Scarlett sighed heavily and let her shoulders droop. "What are you still doing here, Rhett? I want to be alone. Why don't you go sulk in that whorehouse you like so much?"

Much to Rhett's annoyance, they had both switched back into the biting and bitter discourse that had characterized their marriage after Bonnie's birth.

She was still crying, adding to the warm stain on his shirt when he finally gathered enough of his wits to talk.

"You little fool, do you want to be sent to an asylum? No, this has to stay under wraps. As far as Atlanta will know, the gun went off accidentally. Or, better yet, there was no incident. I don't know why I even considered it, they don't need to know anything about what happened tonight. Why do you keep a loaded gun in a house with children?" It dimly occurred to him that he was rambling unnecessarily. He looked up, as if praying to the god he didn't believe in, and noticed the small hole above their heads. "We'll have to fix the ceiling. At least it wasn't your damned head." He had meant to comfort her, to make her understand how dearly he still loved her, how the shock had awoken his sleepy heart and destroyed his uncaring attitude.

Rhett stood and hefted her small frame to rest more comfortably in his arms. Still cradling her against him, he carried her towards the lavish bed he hadn't really seen since her accident.

"I have little intention of going to Belle's tonight. I'm staying here, where I can make sure you're safe."

Scarlett awoke in her bed the next day with Rhett clutching her hand like a lifeline.

He was slumped over in a chair beside her, staring off into the wall. He hadn't changed since the day before, he'd only slung his jacket over the back of the chair and tossed his cravat aside before unbuttoning his shirt. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed her awakening or how she appraised his appearance.

Scarlett closed her eyes again and feigned sleep, if only to buy herself a few more moments of peace.

A decidedly unladylike word came to mind and she had to bite the inside of her cheek from spitting it out.

It was all such a mess. Scarlett had never liked dealing with confusing emotions or the reflection that others partook in. What was the point of it all? Well, she ought to sort out some of the chaos that was her life.

The thought of what she had almost done the night before resurfaced and her blood chilled.

It was all surreal now. She didn't want to die. The pain had just been too much… and she couldn't bear the load any longer. There was no tomorrow, only a million regrets.

Sleep had cleared her mind a little and patched up her beaten will. She would get through it, she had to. There were three children and a dead man walking that relied on her alone, and by God, she wouldn't fail them any more than she already had.

The future was just so bleak. Melly was gone. In the blink of an eye, her only friend had vanished. And Rhett, the love of her life, had left… for a few minutes.

Why was he here? He had always been a rogue and a wanderer. And, her bleeding heart whispered, his love had run out.

Why had he returned? Why had he stopped her? Her suicide would have set him free from her.

She couldn't fathom a realistic answer. It made no sense to her, and even less sense because it was Rhett. He couldn't care about her, she refused to believe it. Why, just the night before he had taken her tattered heart and smashed it to smithereens.

A knock interrupted her thoughts and jarred her from her fake slumber.

Rhett, his hair uncharacteristically falling into his eyes and his clothes in disarray, answered the door and accepted the tray from the servant on the other side.

The door swung shut. Rhett turned back towards the bed and suddenly noticed the pale eyes that tracked his movement.

"You're awake."

"Yeah."

"I had a servant bring up some food. You should eat."

Seeing her make no move to acknowledge her breakfast, Rhett set the tray down and sat down heavily beside her.

"You'll need your strength."

There was still no answer.

Rhett gently took her limp hand and brought it to his lips. "Come on, honey. Can't you eat just a little?"

Scarlett shook her head slowly. Just the sight of the simple fare on the silver platter was nauseating.

She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten and it seemed like far too much too early in the day.

Apparently, Rhett also doubted her ability to feed herself, because he continued to cajole her into forcing at least some of the food down.

She had eaten about a third of the plate when Rhett let her take a break.

"Do you not like croissants anymore? I thought that… well, you used to like them. Would you prefer something else?" His voice wavered with uncertainty.

Scarlett shook her head again and leaned against the pillows.

Rhett only got more confusing as time went on. He would abruptly go from declaring her dead to him to ensuring her health and trying to make her feel better.

"I'm not really hungry these days."

"I see." It disquieted Rhett to Scarlett so pale and so despondent. Coupled with her meager appetite and pained countenance, it reminded him painfully of her accident and his part in the whole thing. "Do you need anything? I can open a window or send someone for something from the bakery…" Rhett trailed off. His damned guilt was making him expose himself. But the relentless lead ball in his stomach wouldn't let him act as aloof as he wanted, not if it hurt her in any way. She already had so much to deal with…

He was doing it again.

The polite stranger was a safer role for him to play, but it had never paid off before. The gambler in him couldn't help but recognize that it was a very poor strategy.

And with the scare of the night before, he needed to hold her, to reassure himself she was okay. He wanted to cling to her, to make sure she wouldn't leave him. He didn't want to need her, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Could you scoot over?" Rhett almost cursed himself. He shouldn't have risked it. He wouldn't be able to take it if she rejected him.

To his immense relief, she did make room for him in the bed.

The two spouses lay side by side. The wall between them was almost unconquerable. There was no feasible way to overcome it. He wanted to reach out, but he couldn't cross the border.

"Do you hate me?" Her voice was so small that Rhett almost thought he had imagined it.

Scarlett suddenly found herself in his arms, her head resting on his chest. It was so nice to be held by him again, if only for a little.

"Didn't you hear me last night?" His question held a teasing lilt, even with the pervading sadness.

"You said you pitied me. And if that's the case, I'd still prefer that you hate me."

She wouldn't be able to take it if he hated her, bile crawled up her throat from just thinking about it. But if he pitied her… then she really was nothing.

Rhett sighed heavily and pulled her closer. Why did she always want to know the most damning information?

"I'm not really sure, Scarlett. I don't hate you. I've tried, but it's not possible. And I'll never be indifferent to you. You'll always mean something, and I do care for you. I tried to leave last night, but I couldn't. I thought it was kinda obvious that I still feel more than pity for you."

"Why'd you stay?"

"I needed to make sure you and the children were okay. And… I'm not sure. I guess my very tardy conscience kicked in and I couldn't abandon you here."

"You've done it before."

"I do a lot of stupid things."

Scarlett let out a raspy laugh.

He'd always wanted to make her laugh.

He suddenly noticed the stubborn dark smudges under her eyes. "You should rest a little more."

"I have to plan Melly's funeral."

"We can deal with everything later."

We. He planned to stay then. Maybe she could doze for just a little…

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"I wouldn't dream of leaving. This is a really comfortable bed."

Another smile graced her lips as she let sleep carry her away.

So, um… I slipped in a line from Anastasia and modified it slightly. Did anyone catch it? I thought it was pretty obvious, but I love the movie. Paris Hold the Key literally crushes my heart and I shouldn't be so emotionally invested in two animated people.

This probably won't be more than a short story, but maybe if everyone really wanted it to be longer and was vocal about said desire… Yeah. If you want something longer, you could mosey on over to my other story, The End of an Era. If you hate my writing… oh well.