a/n: This is completely out of character, completely fluffy, and so completely alternate universe it makes me sick. Consider this an (utterly failed) exercise in writing to pump me up for the summer season.

He could spot her from a mile away if need be. This time she sat not fifty feet away from him, hardly trying to mask the scowl on her face. He laughed at her, adoring her selfish petulance.

He shouldn't even be near her today, at the wedding of one of the Old Guard's grandchildren. But he had done a favor for the groom, and the bride gritted her teeth as she extended to him the famous Southern hospitality.

He would not have come if he knew she wouldn't be here today.

The long wooden bench, pushed to the wall to make room for the shabby, makeshift dance floor, was occupied by young war widows and matrons too old to dance. And then there was Scarlett. Squashed in between Miss Pittypat and Mrs. Meade, she fanned herself rapidly while simultaneously clutched her heavy shawl around her shoulders.

He bowed graciously as two young women passed by, giggling, at the same time searching the crowd for old Frank. Ah! There he was, huddled in a group with Ashley Wilkes and a few others. There discussion was heated, and Rhett frowned. A wedding was not the place for dignified men such as themselves to have an argument.

Just the same, it worked out better for Rhett.

He strode towards her, straightening his red cravat as he did so. He knew she'd seen him, and he didn't take his eyes off of her as she desperately glanced around the room at anyone but him. The old women and widows tittered disgustedly as he neared, apparently having caught on to Rhett's motives.

"Why, Mrs. Kennedy! Never in my life have I known you to sit out a dance!" He chuckled as fiery green eyes met his dark ones.

"Rhett Butler! I should have known you'd come sulking around here. Look at you- showing off in your fine clothes while our husbands wear rags!" Her fury was genuine, Rhett could tell, but she was only furious she couldn't wear fine clothing right along with him.

"Cheer up, Mrs. Kennedy! Surely your husband's business allows you to afford the finer things in life?"

Scarlett huffed. "Hardly." She flapped her fan wildly, sending the dark curls around her face flying. Even dressed frumpily, Scarlett was easily the most beautiful woman in the room.

"I didn't come over here to critique your lack of fashion sense, my darling. I was rather hoping you'd saved a dance for an old friend." Rhett pretended to miss the not-so-subtle warning pinch Mrs. Meade lent Scarlett.

"Old friend my rear," Scarlett muttered under her breath, making Rhett laugh out loud and Mrs. Mead and Pittypat gasp in astonishment. "No, Rhett Butler, I don't think I will dance with you, thank you very much."

"Dance with me, Scarlett," he commanded, taking the fan out of her pale hands and handing it to a hyperventilating Pittypat. He extended his arm to her and waited, watching her calculating eyes with interest.

"Scarlett Kennedy, if you dare-" began a furious Mrs. Meade.

"Oh, hush!" Scarlett interrupted, balling her heavy shawl and practically tossing it into Mrs. Meade's lap. "I'll dance with you, Mr. Butler, if only to keep you from bothering me again. I'll have you know that you're the one who will have to explain this to my husband."

"I thank you for this pity dance," laughed Rhett as he bowed low to her. She curled her lips in annoyance, but cast him a quick glance under her eyelashes that told him she'd been dying to have a dance all night. He wondered why she hadn't demanded that old Frank keep her on her feet all night. Irrationally, he wondered if maybe she'd been waiting for him to show up.

She fit into his arms with ease as the waltz started up, and he gave the hand he held a quick squeeze as she followed his lead around the floor.

"Your husband won't challenge me to a duel after this, will he? I'd hate for you to lose another husband so tragically." He smiled bemusedly down at her as she pretended to look outraged. "Do you love him?" he asked her suddenly, eyes boring down into hers. She returned his dark look for only a moment, and Rhett thought he saw a glimmer of shared passion when she slanted her eyes away.

"Don't be silly, Rhett."

He felt an overwhelming sadness as she said this, and he couldn't help but think that her marriage to Frank Kennedy was his entire fault. If only he'd-

But she ruined his moment by adding smugly, "I'll always love only one man."

He felt like tripping her- allowing her to fall heavily to the floor in a heap, utterly embarrassed. Instead he wrenched her closer to him in anger and desire. She let out a hitched breath and momentarily stumbled, but said nothing about their sudden proximity. They danced for a full minute in complete silence, and Scarlett kept her chin down so he couldn't see into her eyes, effectively keeping her thoughts from him. Rhett passed the time by watching the crowd. Every other dance couple was keeping their distance from the unwelcome pair, casting curious and outraged glances their way at every passing moment. Over their heads, Rhett spotted the men in Scarlett's gang, backs still turned, continuing to speak heatedly to one another. Rhett was glad of this. Even though Scarlett was infuriating and overwhelming, he didn't want this night to end.

As if she could read his thoughts, Scarlett suddenly sighed, following his gaze to the men in the corner. Rhett stiffened, thinking she was going to blubber over her misguided love for Wilkes, but Scarlett's eyes cut past the fair-haired man and landed on the gingery Frank instead.

"I don't know how I got to this place, Rhett," she confided sadly, letting her head drop quickly onto his chest in a moment of rare vulnerability.

"I do," he countered, not unkindly, and they shared a sad smile. This time Rhett knew he correctly labeled the look in her eye. She was wondering what it was like if her life had turned out differently. He could only hope that she was including him in those reveres.

"Run away with me, Scarlett," he whispered against her hairline. "We'll go to Mexico, to Paris, anywhere you like. I'll take you away from all of this… disappointment ." He knew he sounded desperate, and steeled himself for her condescension. Instead, she sighed, and when she looked into his eyes he saw tears glistening vaguely in her own.

"Oh, Rhett." He could hardly control himself with the way she just said his name. He wanted to throw her over his shoulders and escape out of this sad event. Instead he settled for a lingering kiss at her temple, and he felt her shiver.

"Rhett," she said again, and he'd never heard her sound so sad.

"Scarlett?" He loosed her grip on his hand to bring both arms to her waist. She was pale and drawn, and so very sad, and suddenly he was concerned. This wasn't like the evil, vindictive, heartless Scarlett he knew and had the misfortune to love.

"Rhett, I'm- I'm having a baby." She blinked through her lashes at him, and he furrowed his brow, stopping their dance to take in her form.

So that explains it! He felt like an idiot for not noticing it before- the reason for the shawl, the seat at the widow's bench. She was having a baby. Frank's baby.

"Rhett, I wish-"

"Scarlett! Captain Butler!" Someone was pushing towards them, and the buzz in Rhett's ears cleared in time to hear a clearly annoyed Mr. Kennedy over his left shoulder. He felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned obligingly. Old Frank, flanked by his men (including a furious Ashley Wilkes) stood to his left.

"Mr. Butler," began old Frank, but he couldn't get the rest of his fury out. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and Rhett effectively hid his smirk. "Scarlett, darling," Frank tried instead, reaching for his wife, who stood as still as a statue, her arms still around Rhett's neck. "Scarlett, sugar, you- you shouldn't be dancing in your condition," he stage whispered.

"He's right," agreed Ashley Wilkes, and his hand landed in a pseudo-friendly grip on Rhett's forearm. "Captain Butler, I suggest you retire for the evening. Scarlett doesn't look well."

Rhett clenched his hands around Scarlett's waist into fists, forcing himself not to harm the lovely Ashley Wilkes. He looked around him. Five men were circled around the two of them, and the other dancers had slowed their pace, watching the happenings curiously.

"Alright," said Rhett finally, removing his hands from Scarlett. She watched him, wild eyed, and he did not look away, desperate to savor the moment they'd just shared. Scarlett's shawl appeared as if out of midair, and Frank thrust it around her shoulders, dragging her from Rhett in the process. She said nothing in protest, but let her husband lead her away.

"Good night, Captain Butler," Ashley Wilkes prodded. Finding his feet, Rhett bowed to him and headed towards the exit, ignoring the stares and whispers as he always did. He didn't stop until he was out into the sticky Georgia night, where he sat heavily on the wood steps of the building. He'd do anything for an entire decanter of whiskey at the moment.

"One day, my darling," he whispered to no one. "One sweet day."