Author's Note: I do not own any of the characters, all belong to their respective copyright holders. This does borrow heavily from the original as it is a scene from GWTW, but this is Rhett's side of the scene. I know that this is not in the chronological order, and maybe someday I will repost this all in line with the story, but for now, this is the moment that came to me. I will continue with the story from where it sits before this chapter, but my goal is to do Rhett's complete story. I love the premise of RBP, but with the exception of the barbecue scene. I think this is more what we fans were hoping for. SO you could say that RBP is my anti-inspiration. Hope you enjoy!

Rhett was seated at the Bar in Belle's place when he heard someone screaming his name. He knew he was an absolute fool for remaining, but he couldn't help but think about Scarlett all alone except for Melanie and Prissy and Wade. He knew she was strong, but sometimes even the strongest need some help. He had acted like a complete boor when he had propositioned her to become his mistress. But he wanted her like he had never wanted anyone before. And now here he was in the middle of a siege, because he simply couldn't stand to leave her unprotected. What a fool he was.

He heard it again. A shrill voice screaming for him, so shrill that it set his teeth on edge. Who on earth would be screeching like that? Curiosity got the best of him, and he rose from his seat and headed out the door.

"Ah, Prissy... what can I do for you this fine evening?" He asked politely as he stared at the panicky darky. "Is there some thing that you need?"

"Ah's skeered, Mista Rhett. And Miss Melly she done had her baby. And Miss Scarlett done sent me to find you so you could get us outta here." She rambled out in a frightened voice, her teeth chattering.

"I'm sorry, Prissy. But the Confederate Army already commandeered my horse and buggy to use as an ambulance. So I'm afraid I won't be of much help to you." He said calmly, looking pristine in his white suit.

"But Mista Rhett the Yankees are already here! They's burn'n 'Lantna. De sojers tech off a sto' house down Decatur Street an' it flame up," She shrilled.

A wild fire lept to life in Rhett's eyes. "Come on!" He grabbed Prissy forcing her to join him as he ran towards Five Points. When they arrived, emotion stirred in his face, a fierce determination leading him. "What now? Talk fast!"

"Miss Scahlett, she done tole me to tell you, Cap'n Butler, come quick an' bring yo' hawse an' cah'ige. Miss Melly done had a chile an' Miss Scahlett is bustin' ter get outer town." The glow from the fire giving an eerie red cast to their faces.

"Where does she plan on going, Prissy?" He quizzed.

"Ah doan know, suh, but she is boun' ter go fo' de

Yankees gits hyah an' wants you ter go wid her."

Her fear was grating on him, as he desperately tried to think of what he could do next. But then he laughed. "Well, I'm sorry Prissy, but they already took my horse." He paused as Prissy stared at him, the terror making her rigid. "Tell Miss Scarlett to rest easy. I'll steal her a horse out of the army corral if there is a single one left. I've stolen horses before tonight. Tell her I'll get her a horse even if I get shot doing it." He finished this by laughing and telling Prissy to get home.

As she ran, another explosion rang out, causing her to scream and fall to the ground.

"Prissy," he said with a chuckle. "That isn't anything but the ammunition our gentleman are setting off so that the Yankees don't get it. Go on, Prissy. Hurry up and get back to Miss Scarlett. I'm sure that she wants to hear from you soon."

He watched as she slowly ambled away, no sense of urgency affecting her. Another explosion ripped through the air galvanizing him into action. His eyes gleamed in excitement as the adrenaline poured through his veins. This is what being a man was about. He paused for a moment to consider where he should go, before heading in the direction of the army stables. If there was a horse alive to steal for them, he would. How was he going to do this without killing Melanie? Scarlett would survive. She was a survivor, the whole world would crumble before it could stop her.

He ran nimbly, soundlessly, swiftly unnoticed by anyone. There had to be some kind of animal, some excuse for a form of transportation. Alone in the yard was a rickety, old wagon. It was a pitiful excuse compared to anything he had ever driven before, but he quickly adjusted the wheels so that they might stay on, and pulled it so that it sat ready to hitch a horse too, if there was one.

Inside the barn, two young boys were frantically trying to remove anything that had value. So occupied with their tasks, they paid no attention as Rhett slipped inside. He snuck into the next aisle and heard the sound of heavy breathing. He crept closer, and saw inside the stall a pitiful creature. It's breathing was labored, and it had obviously been given up as too far gone to bother with.

But this was an animal, and there didn't seem to be anything else inside of the building. This might be the only hope.

He carefully opened the stall door and led the animal into the aisle. "Shhh", he cautioned the horse. He could still hear the voices of the frightened boys as they faded away. They were leaving. He was alone.

He hurried towards the door, still leading the emaciated animal. As soon as he got near to the cart he harnessed the animal to the wagon and climbed on the seat.

"Thief!" a voice called from the the building. "Horse thief!" The noise from the fires was added to with the crack of a gun, but Rhett prodded the animal into action and ducked low in the seat, narrowly missing getting shot. He urged the horse on faster, and the horse compelled by the bullets whizzing by him, trotted along faster. Rhett fingered one of the pistols in his pocket, but decided against using it. He might need it more later.

Soon he slowed the horse, knowing that they were too busy fleeing to be able to put on much of a chase. And the animal wouldn't be able to last long at this pace.

And so now finally after everything, finally he was headed to rescue Scarlett on this pathetic, dismal excuse for a horse. And the wagon was so ricketty that it was amazing that the wheels continued to turn, although the axels screamed in protest at every revolution. He could see the faint glow that he knew was Aunt Pittypat's ahead of him. He also knew that he could not hurry this horse. This animal had so little life left in it that he must treat it gently if it had any hope of making a trip out of the burning city.

As he neared the house, he could see her leap to her feet. And then he heard her cry, "Rhett!" relief was evident in her tone. He climbed down from the seat of the wagon and opened the gate, allowing himself entrance. It clicked behind him as he walked up the walk with the springy stride and his head was erect and almost regal. The dangers seemed to be almost intoxicating to him. His dancing eyes hid the glimmers of ruthlessness and ferocity. He seemed more alive than ever, as if this entire situation was no more than a game to him.

She swayed as he neared her. He bowed and swept his hat across his body in a graceful gesture. "Good evening," he said, in his drawling voice. "Fine weather we're having. I hear you're going to take a trip."

"If you make any jokes, I shall never speak to you again," her voice quivered as she spoke.

A mocking surprise flitted across his face, "Don't tell me you are frightened!" He grinned, hoping to drive her crazy with his calm.

"Yes, I am! I'm frightened to death and if you had the sense God gave a goat, you'd be frightened too. But we haven't got time to talk. We must get out of here." There was panic in her eyes. She seemed to be nothing but a small frightened child, desperately hoping for someone to cling to.

"At your service, Madam. But just where were you figuring on going? I made the trip out here for curiosity, just to see where you were intending to go. You can't go north or east or south or west. The Yankees are all around. There's just one road out of town which the Yankees haven't got yet and the army is retreating by that road. And that road won't be open long. General Steve Lee's cavalry is fighting a rear-guard action at Rough and Ready to hold it open long enough for the army to get away. If you follow the army down the McDonough road, they'll take the horse away from you and, while it's not much of a horse, I did go to a lot of trouble stealing it. Just where are you going?"

"I'm going home," she said definatly, as if there were no question as to her destination.

"Home? You mean to Tara?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, yes! To Tara! Oh, Rhett, we must hurry!" She pleaded.

"Tara? God Almighty, Scarlett! Don't you know they fought all day at Jonesboro? Fought for ten miles up and down the road from Rough and Ready even into the streets of Jonesboro? The Yankees may be all over Tara by now, all over the County. Nobody knows where they are but they're in that neighborhood. You can't go home! You can't go right through the Yankee army!" Disbelief shadowed his words, amazed that she would even consider going to Tara. She would very well be walking into the lions' mouth.

"I will go home!" she cried plaintively. "I will! I will!"

"You little fool," and his voice was swift and rough. "You can't go that way. Even if you didn't run into the Yankees, the woods are full of stragglers and deserters from both armies. And lots of our troops are still retreating from Jonesboro. They'd take the horse away from you as quickly as the Yankees would. Your only chance is to follow the troops down the McDonough road and pray that they won't see you in the dark. You can't go to Tara. Even if you got there, you'd probably find it burned down. I won't let you go home. It's insanity." He tried to use the sharp words to shock some sense into her. He desperately wanted to keep her from her fools errand. She would be heading into her own execution.

"I will go home! I will go home! You can't stop me! I will go home! I want my mother! I'll kill you if you try to stop me! I will go home!"

He stood silently as tears of fright and hysteria streamed down her face as she finally gave way under the long strain. He made no move to stop her as she beat on his chest with her fists and screamed again: "I will! I will! If I have to walk

every step of the way!" He couldn't stand the site of her in such agony. She was terrified. He never would have believed that she would come to a breaking point like this, until he had seen it with his own eyes.

Swiftly he gathered her in to his arms. Her hands stilled as she was engulfed into his embrace. Her hot tears found their way through the starched material of his shirt. Her hair tumbled across his hands as he caressed her hair with a soothing touch. His voice was unlike any tone that he had ever used with her before. It was gentle and soft. "There, there, darling," he said without any hint of mockery. "Don't cry. You shall go home, my brave little girl. You shall go home. Don't cry." That moment changed him. She was in his arms, and so very terrified. And he felt nothing other than the need to comfort her and protect her. In this moment she needed him like she had never needed anything. A surge of love momentarily over-whelmed him. She was not completely the spitfire that he had loved. And he longed to hide her vulnerability from the world. He longed to do nothing but hold her, as his lips brushed against her hair.

Finally, knowing that they only had so much time, he fumbled in his pocket and produced a handkerchief and gently wiped the tears from her face.

Finding a faint twinge of humor, he treated her as a small child. "Now, blow your nose like a good child," he ordered, a glint of a smile in his eyes, "and tell me what to do. We must work fast." She did as he asked, but her lips were quivering. She seemed completely helpless.

"Mrs. Wilkes has had her child? It will be dangerous to move her--dangerous to drive her twenty-five miles in that rickety wagon. We'd better leave her with Mrs. Meade." She shook her head at his words.

"The Meades aren't home. I can't leave her." The tears still glinting in her eyes.

"Very well. Into the wagon she goes. Where is that simple-minded little wench?" he questioned.

"Upstairs packing the trunk."

He raised one eyebrow in amazement. "Trunk? You can't take any trunk in that wagon. It's almost too small to hold all of you and the wheels are ready to come off with no encouragement. Call her and tell her to get the smallest feather bed in the house and put it in the wagon."

Still she stood unmoving—petrified by the events of the night. He pulled her tightly into his arms, lacking the gentleness of the prior embrace. It held passion and fire and vitality. He tried to prod her into the hallway, but she still stood staring at him. "Can this be the heroic young woman who assured me she feared neither God nor man?" He mocked her in hopes of rousing her fight and then he laughed and released her. In turn she glared at him, passionate hatred flaming into her eyes.

"I'm not afraid," she said.

"Yes, you are. In another moment you'll be in a swoon and I have no smelling salts about me."

She stamped her foot and then picked up the lamp and started up the stairs, not realizing that his actions had been to galvanize her. He came up the stairs following closely at her heels, laughing softly at the passion he had awakened in her. Rhett waited outside of the door as she ordered Prissy and Wade about. Then he followed her as she turned to Melanie's door.

Rhett was shocked by the serenity he witnessed in Melanie's eyes as he came into the room. She tried to smile, but she had not even the strength for that. She was as pale as death, her eyes sunken and rimmed with black shadows.

Scarlett immediately launched into an explanation. "We are going home, to Tara,The

Yankees are coming. Rhett is going to take us. It's the only way, Melly."

Scarlett picked up the small baby and wrapped him hastily in a

thick towel at Melanie's nod. Rhett stepped to the bed and tcuked the sheet around her. "I'll try not to hurt you. See if you can put your arms around my neck."

Melanie was too weak. She had no strength even for that. And so he bent, slipping an arm under her shoulders and another across her knees and lifted her

gently. Her body tensed in pain as he lifted her slight weight, but she made no sound. Scarlett started towards the door ahead of Rhett, holding the lamp high so he could see. Melanie made a feeble gesture toward the wall.

"What is it?" Rhett asked gently, even as he worried about how very light she felt in his arms. He body was no larger than a child's.

"Please," she whispered, he hand lifted feebly as if to point at something still in the room. "Charles."

He looked at her in confusion and then on to Scarlett who seemed irritated at the request. "Please," she voice was whisper soft as she pleaded with all of her strength, "the sword."

Scarlett grudgingly acquiesced. "Oh, all right." She head back up the stairs to retrieve the items after Rhett had already taken Melanie down the stairs.

Rhett took Melanie to the wagon and laid her down as gently as he could next to the frightened Wade, but he could not miss the grimace that stole across her features. But there was nothing else that he could do. So he stood next to the wagon and waited while Scarlett and Prissy exited the house.

"Not much of an animal, is it?" grinned Rhett. "Looks like he'll

die in the shafts. But he's the best I could do. Some day I'll

tell you with embellishments just where and how I stole him and how

narrowly I missed getting shot. Nothing but my devotion to you

would make me, at this stage of my career, turn horse thief--and

thief of such a horse. Let me help you in."

He carefully picked Scarlett up bodily and swung her onto it. And then with everyone else securely positioned in the rickety wagon, he climbed up as well and picked up the reins.

Then to his amusement she cried,"Oh, wait! I forgot to lock the front door." He couldn't help but laugh at her naivety. "What are you laughing at?" she asked with a scowl painting her face.

"At you--locking the Yankees out," he bellowed as they slowly pulled away from the house and began their painfully slow progress down the street.

The air was ripe with explosions, as they traversed one deserted street after another. Melanie moaned with each hard jounce of the wagon, the deeply rutted streets making their progress even slower.

Rhett calmly noted "That must be the last of the ammunition trains," when another explosion shook the ground and launched into the air. "Why didn't they get them out this morning, the fools! There was plenty of time. Well, too bad for us. I thought by circling around the center of town, we might avoid the fire and

that drunken mob on Decatur Street and get through to the southwest part of town without any danger. But we've got to cross Marietta Street somewhere and that explosion was near Marietta Street or I miss my guess."

Scarlett quavered, as she stared into the distance, "Must--must we go through the fire?"

"Not if we hurry," said Rhett. He leapt from the wagon agilely and ventured into the yard of another darkened home. He found a young tree and snapped a branch off to use to hurry the pathetic creature onward. He showed no mercy to the poor animal as he laid it across the horses back. The wagon swayed erratically as the animal shambled into a quicker pace. Its labored breathing made Rhett question whether or not, it would even survive to get out of town. All in the back of the wagon cried out as they were thrown around the back of the wagon save Melanie, who made not a sound.

The flames appeared brighter and more garish as they dance across the sky, as fewer and fewer trees stood sentinel to break the line of sight. The entire town took on a strange cast as if it were the end of the world. For a moment it seemed as if the whole world were on fire.

It was blisteringly hot, and yet still Scarlett's teeth chattered as she shivered from icy fear that clutched at her. He could feel her trembles, as she leaned closer to him. She was almost enough to distract him. He knew she was more scared than probably had ever been in her entire life, he could feel her shivering. But the fear only sent more adrenaline rushing into his veins. His eyes glowed with light and pleasure at the challenges ahead. He stared straight ahead, as if welcoming the approaching inferno.

"Here," He offered her one of his pistols. "If anyone, black or white, comes up on your side of the wagon and tries to lay hand on the horse, shoot him and we'll ask questions later. But for God's sake, don't shoot the nag in your excitement."

"I--I have a pistol," she whispered, clutching the weapon in her lap, fear etched in her face and pulsing through her veins.

"You have? Where did you get it?"

"It's Charles'."

"Charles?"

"Yes, Charles--my husband."

"Did you ever really have a husband, my dear?" he whispered and laughed softly. For a moment wishing that he had been her husband, that he could hold her as only a husband was allowed.

"How do you suppose I got my boy?" she cried fiercely.

"Oh, there are other ways than husbands--" He offered, knowing that it would push her farther, and that he would be more focused on her anger than she was focused on her fear.

"Will you hush and hurry?" She replied angrily, the approaching fire, mirrored in her eyes.

Seeing soldiers approaching, he drew rein abruptly, in the shadow of a warehouse not yet touched by the flames, hoping to remain undetected by the passing men.

"Hurry!" She cried frantically.

"Soldiers," he said, offering an explanation of his pause in movement.

He watched as the detachment came down Marietta Street, the burning building towering over them on both sides, crashing and burning, choking smoke curling about them, yet they did not flinch. They walked slowly with no thought to regimented marching, too weary to do anything but shamble on with their heads bowed and rifles slung in every direction. Their clothes were threadbare and ragged. There was nothing to distinguish these men from any other defeated men in the history of the world. Only the occasional hat sported a "C.S.A" pin, otherwise they could have been the Yankee army. But they were too bedraggled to be the winning army. Few even possessed shoes, and many were bandaged with wounds yet unhealed from prior battles. They went past, like the ghosts of a civilization gone by. The only sound was the steady tramp of their feet as they passed by. They were too weary to notice the horse and wagon in the shadow of the warhouse.

"Take a good look at them," Rhett instructed, a feeling stirring in his chest as he watched them continue on, even knowing that they were defeated. "so you can tell your grandchildren you saw the rear guard of the Glorious Cause in retreat."

Her eyes burned with hatred for him, along with the smoke and the heat. And as they watched, a small figure, too young yet to have a beard stopped in the middle of the road. He looked like a child, his face so dulled by fatigue that it looked like he was sleep walking. He stared at the retreated army in front of him for a moment before his knees buckled slowly and he went down in the dust.

Silently, two men fell out of the last rank and walked back to him. One silently handed his own rifle and that of the boy to the other. Then stooped and jerked the boy to his shoulders with an ease that looked like sleight of hand. Then he followed the retreating column as the boy cried "Put me down, damn you! Put me down! I can walk!" The man said nothing, but continued on out of sight around the

bend of the road.

He knew then that he should be one of them. He was a Southerner. He hated himself for this realization. He hated that he felt this compulsion to leave Scarlett. But he suddenly knew what they were fighting for, and watching as they disappeared her felt the stirring of Patriotic pride, wishing that he too were fighting. It was a lost cause. There was no doubt as to that, but he couldn't help but think as he watched that he should be with them. He was a coward. He had hidden behind the notion that it was a lost cause before it started, that only a fool would be fighting. But now he was the fool, nothing but a foolish dandy.

Then, there was a crash of falling timbers near by and Scarlett saw a thin tongue of flame lick up over the roof of the warehouse in whose sheltering shadow they sat. Scarlett and Prissy and the children all began coughing and sneezing, and his eyes burned.

"Oh, name of God, Rhett! Are you crazy? Hurry! Hurry!"

It took her words to send him back into action- to wake him from his thoughts. And he used the the tree limb on the horse's back with a cruel force that made the animal leap forward. With all the speed the horse could summon, they jolted and bounced across Marietta Street. He gazed in front of them where the burning buildings created a fiery tunnel of the short narrow street that they were following down to the train tracks. But he plunged ahead, knowing that the only way to safety was to go through the fire. The fire roared around them, cracking and crashing so loudly that no other sounds existed. The heat caused sweat to pour out, scorching their skin with its brightness and heat. For what seemed like an eternity, it seemed, they were engulfed in the flaming sun, as if they were inside the fire, instead of surrounded by it. But then the fire was behind them and semi-darkness was hard to see through.

He wasn't thinking about the fire, or anything else, but the retreating line in front of them. He should be with them, the thought rang again in his mind. He drove the animal mercilessly, crashing the whip down, showing no mercy. He could not concentrate on the present, not even the feel of Scarlett's body so close to him. His broad shoulders were hunched forward and his chin jutted out as he pondered what he would do, what he had to do. Sweat streamed down his forehead and cheeks but he did not wipe it off, too preoccupied to even be aware of it.

He carefully navigated the narrow streets as the roaring of the flames died behind them. He did not speak, his only actions seemed to be beating the horse with regularity. The red glow in the sky was fading now and the road became so dark, but still he did not speak. Still he dwelt on the backs of the army as they walked on.

Scarlett leaned into him and this whispered as she clasped his arm,

"Oh, Rhett, What would we ever have done without you? I'm so glad you aren't in the army!"

This had been the thought on his mind, and he turned to her wondering if somehow those thoughts had escaped. Did she know what he was considering? But the look on her face showed that she was grateful that he was a coward. His expression turned to a grimace as he glowered at her, feeling as if she had insulted him. The first insult that she had spoken that he felt. She dropped his arm and shrunk back from him, There was no mockery in his eyes now. They were naked and there was anger and something like bewilderment in them. His lip curled down and he turned his head away. For a long time they jounced along in a silence unbroken except for the

faint wails of the baby and sniffles from Prissy. When she was able to bear the sniffling noise no longer, Scarlett turned and pinched her viciously, causing Prissy to scream in good earnest before she relapsed into frightened silence.

Finally Rhett turned the horse at right angles and after a while they were on a wider, smoother road. The dim shapes of houses grew farther and farther apart and unbroken woods loomed wall-like on either side.

"We're out of town now," said Rhett briefly, drawing rein, "and on the main road to Rough and Ready."

"Hurry. Don't stop!"

"Let the animal breathe a bit." Then turning to her, he asked slowly: "Scarlett, are you still determined to do this crazy thing?"

"Do what?"

He looked at her, the amazement showing clearly. "Do you still want to try to get through to Tara? It's suicidal. Steve Lee's cavalry and the Yankee Army are between you and Tara."

Oh, Dear God! Was she seriously going to continue on this suicidal mission? Was she that determined?

"Oh, yes! Yes! Please, Rhett, let's hurry. The horse isn't tired."

"Just a minute. You can't go down to Jonesboro on this road. You can't follow the train tracks. They've been fighting up and down there all day from Rough and Ready on south. Do you know any other roads, small wagon roads or lanes that don't go through Rough and Ready or Jonesboro?" He hated the thought of her in this darkness? How was she going to make it? But it was Scarlett, and who could stop Scarlett from getting her way. She was possibly the most stubborn woman in the history of the world. For a moment he imagined a scenario where she chewed out the Yankee army for crossing her path. It made him want to smile, but then he remembered the dangers that she would be face, and it sobered him.

"Oh, yes," cried Scarlett. "If we can just get near to Rough and Ready, I know a wagon trace that winds off from the main Jonesboro road and wanders around for miles. Pa and I used to ride it. It comes out right near the MacIntosh place and that's only a mile from Tara."

A slight relief relaxed him for a brief instant, before he remembered what he was going to do. She would be on her own. "Good. Maybe you can get past Rough and Ready all right. General Steve Lee was there during the afternoon covering the retreat. Maybe the Yankees aren't there yet. Maybe you can get through there, if Steve Lee's men don't pick up your horse."

"I can get through?" She looked at him through her lashes, fear and confusion over powering every other emotion in her eyes.

"Yes, YOU." His voice was rough. He had to do this. He was a fool and a cad for it, but he had to do this.

"But Rhett-- You-- Aren't going to take us?"

"No. I'm leaving you here."

She looked around wildly, as if she hope that he hadn't said what he had.

She was amazing. Just looking her, he couldn't help but grin. God help the man or army that tried to get in her way.

"Leaving us? Where--where are you going?"

"I am going, dear girl, with the army." He said without any hint of mockery.

She sighed. "Oh, I could choke you for scaring me so! Let's get on."

She wasn't going to make it that easy, she thought he was joking. He wished that he were. He wished that he didn't feel this compulsion to join the shambling throngs of soldiers. "I'm not joking, my dear. And I am hurt, Scarlett, that you do not take my gallant sacrifice with better spirit. Where is your patriotism, your love for Our Glorious Cause? Now is your chance to tell me to return with my shield or on it. But, talk fast, for I want time to make a brave speech before departing for the wars."

"Rhett, you are joking!" Her eyes were alight with terror and she seemed to be unable to catch her breath. She grabbed his arm and he felt her tears of fright splash down his arm. He raised her hand and kissed it arily.

"Selfish to the end, aren't you, my dear? Thinking only of your own precious hide and not of the gallant Confederacy. Think how our troops will be heartened by my eleventh-hour appearance." There was a malicious tenderness in his voice.

"Oh, Rhett," she wailed, "how can you do this to me? Why are you leaving me?" For a moment he couldn't remember why he was doing this. But then the feelings returned.

"Why?" he laughed jauntily. "Because, perhaps, of the betraying sentimentality that lurks in all of us Southerners. Perhaps-- perhaps because I am ashamed. Who knows?"

"Ashamed? You should die of shame. To desert us here, alone,

helpless—" she cried, her face smudged with soot and dirt, except where her tears had cleared a path.

"Dear Scarlett! You aren't helpless. Anyone as selfish and determined as you are is never helpless. God help the Yankees if they should get you." He offered her the truth because she had to know just hos strong she really was.

He stepped abruptly down from the wagon, and he came around to her side of the wagon. "Get out," he ordered.

She didn't move. She only stared at him. So he reached up roughly, caught her under the arms and swung her to the ground beside him. He dragged her several paces away from the wagon. The darkness wrapped around them, capturing for the moment in a dream-like state. Insulating them from the rest of the world, even if just for that moment.

"I'm not asking you to understand or forgive. I don't give a damn whether you do either, for I shall never understand or forgive myself for this idiocy. I am annoyed at myself to find that so much quixoticism still lingers in me. But our fair Southland needs every man. Didn't our brave Governor Brown say just that? Not matter. I'm off to the wars." He laughed suddenly, a ringing, free laugh that startled the echoes in the dark woods.

"'I could not love thee, Dear, so much, loved I not Honour more.' That's a pat speech, isn't it? Certainly better than anything I can think up myself, at the present moment. For I do love you, Scarlett, in spite of what I said that night on the porch last month."

His drawl was caressing and his hands slid up her bare arms, warm strong hands. "I love you, Scarlett, because we are so much alike, renegades, both of us, dear, and selfish rascals. Neither of us cares a rap if the whole world goes to pot, so long as we are safe and comfortable."

He continued in a stirring speech, knowing that the words were not registering with her. And so he stopped. He stopped and he wrapped his arms around her waist and shoulders, pulling her body tightly against his. He could feel her body molding into his. He could feel her breasts pushing against the buttons of his shirt. He wanted to take her right their. Considering all that they had gone through she had no right to be so completely alluring. And felt it to... he could feel it as she went limp in his arms, warm, weak, and helpless in his arms. It took all of his self control to not do anything right there. But still he had to at least say something. He might be going to his and death and here she was in his arms, so pliant and warm and tempting.

"You don't want to change your mind about what I said last month?There's nothing like danger and death to give an added fillip. Be patriotic, Scarlett. Think how you would be sending a soldier to his death with beautiful memories."

His head bent and he began kissing, kissing her with slow, hot lips that were so leisurely as though he had the whole night before him. No one he had ever kissed made him feel like this, and he had kissed many woman. But something about her was different. He bent her body backward and his lips traveled down her throat to where the cameo fastened her basque.

"Sweet," he whispered. "Sweet." God she felt amazing. He would hold on to this as long as he had to. Kissing her was better than any dessert he had ever eaten. Her mouth was sweeter than honey, her skin more fantastic than chocolate.

For a moment the darkness was broken, by a pitiful crying voice. "Muvver! Wade fwightened!"

"Oh, you cad!" she cried. "You low-down, cowardly, nasty, stinking thing!" And

because she could not think of anything crushing enough, she drew back her arm and slapped him across the mouth with all the force she had left. He took a step backward, his hand going to his face.

"Ah," he said quietly and for a moment they stood facing each other in the darkness. He had been wrong, he shouldn't have done that, but he had never experienced feelings like that before. God, how he wanted to stay with her forever.

"They were right! Everybody was right! You aren't a gentleman!" She cried, the spell of the dark night, completely broken.

"My dear girl," he said, "how inadequate." Laughing, he remembered other words that had been used against him, and hers paled in comparison.

"Go on! Go on now! I want you to hurry. I don't want to ever see you again. I hope a cannon ball lands right on you. I hope it blows you to a million pieces. I--" Her eyes were frantic with anger and fear and pain.

"Never mind the rest. I follow your general idea. When I'm dead on the altar of my country, I hope your conscience hurts you." He smiled at her, chuckling softly as he turned and went back to the wagon. "Mrs. Wilkes?"

Melanie did not answer. Prissy high, frightened voice answered. "Gawdlmighty, Cap'n Butler! Miss Melly done fainted away back yonder."

"She's not dead?" He knew that she might not survive this trip, but for all of their sakes he hoped that she did. "Is she breathing?" He quizzed.

"Yassuh, she breathin'." Prissy checked and answered quickly.

"Then she's probably better off as she is. If she were conscious, I doubt if she could live through all the pain. Take good care of her, Prissy. Here's a shinplaster for you. Try not to be a bigger fool than you are."

Prissy took the money with a quick nod of her head. "Yassuh. Thankee suh."

"Good-by, Scarlett." He spoke softly, and his words contained an emotion that she was sure wasn't real. If he loved her... if his words had been true than how could he leave her here? Couldn't he at least take her home and then go or better yet not go.

She didn't speak, didn't even turn to watch his leave. And so he turned and walked away, knowing that he was an absolute fool. Knowing that he might have lost her for good. And maybe in this war he could find a way to forget her.