This is for Alica's Halloween story challenge I wanted to participate in because I just love Halloween, mostly because it's my birthday and who doesn't love free candy ;) Anyway, this idea was sparked by some stories (MW's in particular) on the yahoo board. Very nearly did not post this thing, but I hope you like it. Should be read with an open mind though :) Happy Halloween!

Running as if demons were at her feet, Scarlett plowed through the forest as quickly as her little feet could take her as dark ominous clouds filled the sky, screening the remainder of the day's sunlight. Unfortunately, she was not appropriately dressed for this particular marathon, and her velvety green skirt was continuously snagged by loose twigs and branches, slowing down her pace. Her heart was beating wildly, her breathing sporadic, and she thought she might faint if she didn't pause to catch her breath. But, before she had the chance to slow down, her slipper got caught under an exposed tree root and she went flailing to the ground in one harsh swoop. Luckily, her hands caught her fall, but her dress was ruined by the splattered wet mud. At this point she couldn't care less; in fact, she wanted to burn the dress and all the horrible memories that came with it. The resounding clap of thunder and flash of lighting made Scarlett shriek with fright and jump up from the damp earth, wiping her stained hands on the skirt of her dress then dashing once more through the shadowed woods.

She hadn't the vaguest idea where she was or where she was going, but she couldn't turn back now. If only the rain hadn't started to pour, striking her in the face like tiny zooming bullets! She wanted to rest her head against the trunk of the tree and cry herself to sleep, but the terrifying sound of the booming thunder kept her running rapidly. What would she do now? She couldn't go home to Tara if she didn't have the money to pay the taxes and she couldn't go back to Pitty's after what she'd done, leaving Frank at the small chapel, disposed of yet another O'Hara woman without so much as an explanation, but for all he knew, Suellen was still anxiously waiting to be Mrs. Kennedy. At the thought of being his bride, Scarlett gagged, wondering what had possessed her to think she could endure such a heavy load as being the wife of that old maid in breeches. After only spending two weeks with the man, playing the little helpless woman, Scarlett did not know how much she could endure, but the thought of spending the rest of Frank's life with his constant irritating presence was still far too long a time to suffer for three hundred dollars. She believed she'd find some other way to get the money, the question was how.

Finally, seeing what appeared to be an abandoned cottage up ahead and believing that there must be a heaven, Scarlett made her way to the door, soaked through her clothes, her raven hair disheveled and flowing wildly around her shoulders. She was anxious to get inside, sheltered from the rain, but she only hoped that the small home was indeed abandoned. As the door slowly opened with a creak at the force of her hand, Scarlett gasped when she saw Rhett Butler with a gun pressed to the side of his head. At the sound of her entrance and shrill intake of breath, there were five pairs of eyes on her, only one of which she recognized.

"Scarlett, what are you doing here?" Rhett said roughly, pushing the man who held the gun to his head away with a quick thrust of his hand.

Rhett's eyes were alarmingly dark, penetrating hers then taking her appearance in with one swift glance as he walked towards her. She looked down at her dress, hating herself for looking like such a fright in front of Rhett of all people, and she backed away from his approach.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" she shouted out of fear, thinking she was the one who had a right to ask questions when he had the gun up against his head and was supposed to be in jail at this moment none the less. How dare he question her whereabouts!

"Butler, what's the meaning of this?" one man with a rusty beard asked in a deep voice.

"I'll just be a moment," Rhett said smoothly, swiftly taking Scarlett's arm in his firm grip, hauling her towards the door and slamming it shut behind them.

"What are you doing? I don't want to be in the rain. It's cold," Scarlett said in annoyance.

"By the looks of it, you're no stranger to the rain. You'll survive. Now, tell me why you are here?" he demanded.

"It's none of your business, let me go," she said struggling to escape his grasp.

"I believe it is my business now. Shouldn't you be celebrating your wedded bliss with family and friends?"

"How did you—"

"I have my ways. Well? Should I now be referring to you as Mrs. Kennedy?"

"Stop! I don't want to discuss it," she cried out in a rage, recalling just why she'd had to resort to using Frank in the first place.

"Ah, so I see your plans haven't gone quite the way you wanted them to. Did you not take the heartfelt advice I left you with at the jail? Don't tell me you failed at seducing yet another man. What a hit that must have been for your self-esteem."

"Shut up!" she shrieked, trying to pummel his chest with her fists.

He held her back, his hard hands digging into the flesh just below her shoulders.

"Do stop struggling, Scarlett."

"No, I hate you! I wish they would have hung you."

"Many share your opinion I'm afraid. Don't worry; you might get your wish yet."

She froze in place then looked up into his dark eyes, and under her scrutiny, the imperturbable mask returned to Rhett's face.

Breathing jaggedly from both the excursion from the run and the short tussle with Rhett, Scarlett managed to say, in a shaky voice, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you may have the pleasure of knowing I may be dead sooner than you imagined," he answered apathetically.

"Don't tell me they are really going to kill you! What's going on?"

"It's immaterial Scarlett. I suggest you go home now. This isn't any place for you."

"No. Tell me what's going on," she urged stubbornly.

"It's simply a game of chance, my dear. Nothing that would interest you," he answered nonchalantly, but his dark penetrating eyes proved otherwise.

"You're gambling! With what? I thought you didn't have any money, and why would someone hold a gun to—"

"Scarlett, go home. Now," he ordered emphatically before she could finish.

"God's nightgown! Don't tell me you're—"

"Gambling with my life? Yes, how observant you've become darling. Now you have to leave. I can't concentrate with you here."

"Concentrate! What's there to concentrate on? You only have to hope you won't die, Rhett! No, I won't let you. You're insane."

The grip he held slacked and he took one hand to run it across her cheek in a lover-like gesture.

"Would you care very much if I died? I though you wished to see me hanged?" he asked, his voice now velvety soft and devoid of all previous violence.

This change in behavior had Scarlett's mind fighting with the need to stop him from making a terrible mistake and the urge to hurt him for humiliating her at the jail. She struggled with the decision, realizing that no matter how much she hated him, and at times even wishing him dead, she could never truly mean it.

Ignoring his question, Scarlett said, "Rhett, you can't do this. Why would you want to? You have enough money. Why only a fool would—"

"A fool, or a man who has nothing else to lose. Do you know how it feels to narrowly escape death? It's exhilarating. Almost like an adventure."

"An adventure! Haven't you had enough adventures, Rhett Butler? Was going off to war not satisfying enough for you! My God, you narrowly escaped the noose just recently. What is your problem?"

Rhett chuckled then took her hands in his. She was worried for his safety, and it gave him a warm and pleasant feeling to know she cared whether he lived or died.

"Yes, and those were all significant experiences. Don't worry, I don't plan on losing," he said with a grin.

"You're an idiot. Anyone who—" and then she stopped mid sentence, thinking that perhaps he wasn't so much of an idiot after all. This certainly was a quick way to make money, and she in fact needed quick money. Not only would she be able to pay the taxes if she won, but the thought of beating Rhett at his own game also brought a sparkle to her eyes, not to mention that he'd be furious once she suggested the idea since he seemed so hell-bent on her leaving. This was just the answer she'd been waiting for, and it was as if she'd been led to this cabin by some mysterious force. Rhett watched as the devious smile lit her face, and for once he could not tell what she was thinking.

"I'm going to play too," she finally said, breaking out of the reverie she had of restoring Tara with all her newly acquired money. Though she only had a vague idea of how the game was played, she knew that luck had to be on her side if chance had brought her here.

"No, you are not," he said roughly, his hands firmly clasping her arms once more, shaking her slightly.

"Yes, I am, and you can't stop me."

"Would you like to see me try?" he asked, his eyes dangerously serious.

Scarlett laughed in his face. At one time his penetrating stare may have frightened her, but now she felt nothing. What could he possibly to do to her anyway? Suddenly in one quick swoop, Rhett had Scarlett over his shoulder, effortlessly carrying her away like she weighed next to nothing.

"Put me down you brute!" she screamed at the top of her voice, flailing her legs and batting wildly at his back with her angry fists. Suddenly, her knee jabbed him in just the right place, and she dropped to the ground with a thud.

"Ouch! You cad," she shrieked.

"Me? Wasn't I the one who was just viciously attacked?

Before Scarlett had the chance to reply, the man with the rusty beard came out of the cabin to see where all the yelling was coming from.

"Butler, are you in or out?" the man, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, asked roughly.

Rhett nodded his head and walked towards the cabin, and then he turned back to Scarlett for an instant, watching as she jumped up from the floor, fluffing out her dress.

"Go home Scarlett," he said once more in an ominous tone that she chose to ignore.

"No. I'm coming with you. I want to play."

Rhett glared, looking like he wanted to kill her with his bare hands, while the man in front turned around to observe her.

"You, want to play?"

"Yes," she answered quickly, brushing past Rhett to follow the man into the cabin but her arm was suddenly locked in a tight grasp, pulling her back.

"No, she doesn't."

"Yes, I do. Let me go you varmint," she cried out, twisting and tugging her arm so he'd release her.

"Let her play," the man said, obviously amused and a little deranged.

"No. Scarlett please, for once do as asked and go home," Rhett pleaded with her in a silky voice, hoping to persuade her with his charm.

She scowled back at him, indifferent to his change in tone, and she looked away.

"No, I'm playing. You're just afraid I'll beat you and take all your money. Well go to hell Rhett Butler! I'm going to get my tax money without your help."

"You are a bigger fool than I previously thought. If this is about the money, I will give it to you. Hell, I'll—"

"No! You had the chance to help me, but instead you insulted and humiliated me. I don't want your help. I can find a way on my own thank you, now let me go!"

"And what will you be betting with?" he asked with a grin, knowing very well she had nothing to offer.

"I'll, well…" Scarlett started then paused. She hadn't thought about betting, she'd only thought about going home victoriously with the money.

"Well? Don't tell me you're going to throw yourself at yet another man, Scarlett. If Frank didn't want you I doubt—"

Before he could finish, she slapped him across with face with all strength she could muster, and he released the clasp he had on her arm immediately.

"Damn you!"

The mysterious man laughed and appraised Scarlett in an impudent manner, his eyes resting at her cleavage, and he said, "I don't think I would mind."

Rhett's eyes burned through him with fury as he said "No," in an unmistakably menacing voice that left no room for discussion, but Scarlett thought otherwise.

"I'll do as I please, thank you very much, and if you are too much of a coward to watch, then maybe you should be the one who leaves," she stated with a proud lift of her chin as she followed the bearded man into the cabin. In reality she was shaking inside, afraid of the thought of dying or worse, the thought of one those disgusting men touching her. If Rhett hadn't been so adamant about her returning home, she may have changed her mind, but there was no way in hell she would relent now.

Rhett's hands turned to fists, and he shoved them deep inside his pockets, realizing there was no hope now that her obstinate mind had been set.

Once inside, the rules of the game were quickly glossed over for Scarlett's benefit, and Rhett laughed aloud when her green eyes widened with fright. One bullet would be placed inside the revolver with six chambers, which would then be spun and fired at a player's head while the others bet upon whether that person would live or die, each player receiving a turn. On the wooden table in the middle of the room lay bags of gold coins and spare bullets, in case more than one player was shot and killed during the game.

In a bout of callousness, Rhett offered up the idea that Scarlett should be the first to have her life bet upon since she had been so eager to play, and he volunteered to hold the gun to her head. The men wanted to object, afraid he might somehow rig the game to ensure she wouldn't die, but they thought better of it when they realized that they did not want her to die, they only wanted her to lose what she would be wagering. None of the men bet that she would die, except Rhett, who received a nasty scowl from Scarlett in return.

He held up the cold steel muzzle to her temple, and she inhaled a deep breath of air, her heart beating wildly out of her chest.

"Am I making you nervous, my dear?" he asked maliciously with a grin.

"You're a bastard, Rhett Butler."

"Such loving words. Do you really want those to be the last ones you ever say to me?"

"I wish I could come up with worse. I only hope I get the chance to hold the gun to your head," she responded with as much malevolence, but her voice trembled, betraying her terror.

"Careful my dear, remember who's holding the gun."

"Just pull the trigger," she answered quickly, closing her eyes and painfully biting down on her bottom lip.

Nauseous with anxiety, her pulse running rapid, Scarlett knew she would faint if he prolonged the moment any longer. Rhett watched, seeing her evident fear, and he almost felt guilty when he placed his finger on trigger. The deafening crack of the gun sent Scarlett spiraling backwards and three men hastily scurrying out of the cabin.

Rhett reloaded the gun with the spare cartridges before Scarlett opened her eyes to see the bearded man lying dead on the floor, strangely unfazed, though it was not the first time she'd seen a man who'd lost his life to a gunshot wound. As Rhett was pocketing the money, Scarlett finally realized that she was still alive, wondering how that could be since she had heard the terrible sound of the crack of the gun, and she was frozen in place out of sheer terror and confusion. When he called out her name and received no response, he laughed and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her out of the cabin and into the woods at a hurried pace. Still in a daze, she followed Rhett in a run without a word, but when she could no longer catch her breath, she begged him to stop and rested against a large tree.

"Scarlett?" he asked softly when she closed her eyes, breathing heavily.

"I just need a minute."

When she finally opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her, his jet black hair dripping from the pouring rain that washed over them as they stood facing each other in the woods.

"I'm… not dead."

He chuckled softly then affectionately tucked a wet strand of hair that had found its way to her cheek behind her ear.

"Of course not. Do you truly believe I would have let you die, let them touch you. No."

"But… you were so mean."

"Yes I was mean, and you deserved it. This was the stupidest thing you've ever done, and believe me, you've done a number of stupid things that I have even been witness to."

Glaring fiercely, she replied, "We got the money, didn't we?"

"Yes, due to my brilliant ingenuity. I don't believe you realize how close you came to losing your life or worse today, Scarlett."

"Why should you care? You wouldn't mind seeing me dead."

"You're such a fool," he muttered before bringing his lips fiercely down to hers, pushing her up against the tree in a bout of unleashed passion.

Her hands wove around his neck in response, pressing her body into his and kissing him back with hungry unsatisfied lips. This time the rapid pace of her heartbeat, the intoxicating dizziness of his caresses and the tremors he was evoking with his warm wandering hands were welcomed feelings. Not the whipping of the stormy wind nor the rush of falling rain would tear them apart, but the flash of lightening had Rhett reluctantly breaking their kiss, leaving them both panting and staring at each other wordlessly.

"Come along Scarlett," he finally said, pulling her once more by the arm. "I wouldn't want you catching your death because I couldn't restrain myself."

With a nod, she followed him and did not even bother to shrug off the grip he held on arm.

~R&S~

Bringing her to his hotel room, which she only agreed to because she had nowhere else to go and because he promised no one would find out, Rhett threw the money onto his dresser then went in search of something Scarlett could change into out of her drenched dress. He brought out towels and his silk nightwear, and she was more than grateful for the change of clothes. Aiding her in the removal of the heavy dress and soaked corset, Rhett pulled the velvet fabric over her head and loosened the many stays at her back, and Scarlett shivered when his hands touched her exposed skin, embarrassed that he should see her in nothing more than a chemise before she could run off to change in another room.

When she emerged from the dressing room, he was already relatively dry and in a new set of clothes.

"Are you still cold?" he asked, noticing how she shook.

She nodded, not wanting to admit that nerves played a part as well.

He brought her to the sitting room in front of a freshly prepared fire and had her sit in front of him as he brushed through her long wet locks, towel drying the dripping ends after he had finished. The intimate gesture and the warm gentleness of his hands caused a bright pink to flush her cheeks, and she was thankful that her face was hidden with her back to him.

"I assume you're pleased with the outcome of the day's events, Scarlett. You have your money and you're not indebted to me. Seems you have everything you want."

"Are you really going to let me have the money, Rhett?" she asked uncertainly, thinking there had to be at least a few conditions.

"Of course. I'd have given you the money in the jailhouse if I could have, and I'll drive you to Tara tomorrow if you'd like. We wouldn't want anyone to know where you'd been today," Rhett said casually, as if he were offering her a mere insignificant favor.

"You would… do that for me?" she asked, turning to face him now in utter shock.

"I'd do just about anything for you, my dear."

Standing up, Scarlett looked down at him, searching his inscrutable face for answers to this uncharacteristic tenderness. It was most unexpected and so unlike him to be this sweet, especially given what had transpired at the jail, and she could not help but feel an overwhelming gratitude. She ran a hand through his hair, bending down to place a kiss on his cheek, but then as her eyes unexpectedly lingered on his lips, she brought hers down to his mouth in a fleeting peck. Rhett instantly pulled her onto his lap, but he only kissed her with slow and longing gentleness, hoping that perhaps there was a possibility at gaining her love after all.