Five and a half years after writing this story -can you believe it's been that long? I feel so old!- I thought I'd come back and add an epilogue. The idea for this chapter has been knocking around in my head for a long time, but I've never actually gotten around to sitting down and writing it. I'm hoping it's reawakened my gwtw muse so that I can get back to finishing LIL. I'm sorry for leaving such a long gap, it's been a difficult year in which I lost someone I loved a lot, but I found writing this oddly therapeutic -the Gerald parts, most of all- and I hope to return properly soon.

I also went back and tidied up the earlier chapters. God knows my grammar is far from perfect now, but I didn't realise just how shocking it was back then! How you all suffered through it, I'll never know. I didn't take anything away (much as I was tempted to, at times!), but I did add a couple of conversations, as I was surprised how light on dialogue this story was. I hope you like the changes.

Thanks for reading.

One month later

When Scarlett was little, she used to play a game. It wasn't a very exciting one. It wasn't as fun as climbing trees with the Tarleton twins, or convincing Big Sam to let her ride home through the cotton fields on his broad shoulders, or pulling Suellen's pigtails and blaming it on Careen, but she got a satisfying sort of thrill from it, all the same.

It worked like this: whenever she'd come in from playing outside, she'd shut the front door to Tara quietly behind her, lean her back against it, and stand silently waiting to see who would be the first to spot her. She'd pass the time by running through the options in her head, trying to guess which one it would be. There were six main possibilities: Pa, Mother, Mammy, Careen, Suellen, and Pork. Her options were limited, but that was all part of the game's charm. It meant she had a greater chance of calling it right, and, even at such a tender age, Scarlett O'Hara already dearly loved to win.

An impatient hum of anticipation would fill her belly as she waited, growing louder with each passing moment, as sweet and addictive as sugar. Sometimes it would be mere seconds before someone noticed her, other times it would be longer. Once, she waited for over an hour until, finally, her Pa came striding out of the sitting room, stopping dead when he caught sight of her.

'Lord above, Puss,' he growled, holding his hand dramatically against his heart. 'You gave me a fair old fright just then, so you did, lurking there in the shadows like a devil.'

She smiled, stepping forward. She liked it best when he was the one to find her.

Scarlett sighed, surprised to find herself close to tears. It was not a memory she liked to think of often. Why should she? Half of the people involved in the game were long dead, and Tara was no longer her home. She couldn't return to the past, so what was the use in hurting herself by dwelling on it?

That had always been her attitude, but it was hard to remember it, and to keep the dam from breaking, when Ashley was wearing her defences down, droning on and on about the good old, pre-war days until her head was jumbled and her heart was sore and she felt so tired that she just wanted to lie down somewhere soft, and sleep.

What followed was a simple act of comfort, of connection. A way of acknowledging a time that both of them had shared, and wished they could return to. That was all it was when she embraced him in the office of the lumber yard on the afternoon of his surprise birthday party, but when he pulled away and she saw India, Archie and Mr. Elsing's expressions of horror and disgust, she knew they'd mistaken it for something far worse.

Scarlett hurried home. It was a long walk, and her legs were tired, but she kept up an almost brutal pace, refusing to slow down even when she twisted her ankle on a loose stone. As she walked, she prayed that Rhett would be there when she arrived. She did not want to think about what might happen if he wasn't. Archie had said he was going to find him, that he would tell Rhett what he'd seen. He'd claimed he had no choice. That it was his duty as a man and a Christian. Christian, by God! Scarlett fumed, the same man who had murdered his own wedded wife in cold blood.

She shivered, paling, as she remembered why he'd done it. He'd found her sleeping with his brother, and he had felt no remorse when he'd ended her life. What was it he'd said to her the day she'd questioned him about it? Loose women ought to be kilt. He'd certainly looked murderous enough when he'd found her with Ashley.

He mustn't be the one to tell Rhett, she said, repeating it over and over again in her head like a chant. Hopeful that, if she said it enough times, it might actually become true. Archie would be sure to twist what he'd seen, to make it sound terrible and awful and wrong. He'd always hated Scarlett, she knew that as well as she knew her own name. He'd probably been longing for an oppertunity like this, a chance to humiliate her in front of her husband, to blacken her name all across town.

Town. Scarlett felt her stomach sink at the thought of the news circulating around Atlanta. Everyone would be sure to believe the worst, no one would think her innocent, or stand up and fight her cause. The only one who ever had was Melly...Melly! Scarlett froze. What would her friend think when she found out? Would she believe the horrid lies India was bound to spout? Would she, too, turn her back on Scarlett? She wasn't sure she'd be able to stand it if that happened. Melly was mousey and foolish and weak, but she was one of the very few people in Scarlett's life who'd always been there. Who hadn't died, or left, or cast her off. Scarlett had never given her unwavering friendship much thought. She'd never had to. It was simply there, as solid as the sky above her head or the ground beneath her feet. Living without it would be like stripping away a walking aid that she'd been unconsciously leaning on her entire adult life. It would leave her unbalanced, unmoored. Alone.

Shaking herself sharply, Scarlett banished the unwelcome thoughts from her mind and rushed down the street towards her house. She ran up the front steps, panting as she reached the top. She stopped outside the door to tidy her hair and catch her breath. She needed to compose herself. She couldn't afford to look even the slightest bit ruffled in front of Rhett.

With a shaking hand she opened the door, walking inside with all the reluctance and trepidation of a prisoner taking her first step towards the gallows.

'Mama!' Wade cried, racing down the stairs to greet her.

She forced a smile. 'Is Rhett home?'

Wade shook his head. 'He went out after lunch. He said he needed to see someone about something very important. He should be back soon. I hope he will be, he promised to bring us all back a treat!'

'That's nice,' she said absently, cursing her bad luck. Maybe it would still be alright. Maybe he wouldn't run into Archie. Maybe life would be kind to her, just this once.

'Will you come and play with us, Mama?' Wade asked, more confidently than he would have a month ago.

In the weeks since Bonnie's nightmare had sparked a reconciliation between her parents, Scarlett had made good on her promise to spend more time with her children. That was not to say that she had evolved onto the perfect parent, though. She still frequently grew bored of their chatter, and she found herself losing her temper once too often, but she had tried hard to carve out a place for herself in their lives, and was privately rather pleased with the result. Bonnie sought her out almost as much as she did Rhett, nowadays, and Wade and Ella were visibly far less afraid in her presence, smiling and clutching onto her skirts whenever she drew near.

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. She had thought to go up to her bedroom, away from everyone, and wait for Rhett to return. But, why should she feel as thought she had to hide herself away like a criminal? She had done nothing wrong! Rhett would see that when she explained it all to him. He would believe her, she was sure of it. Things were different between them now. They did not fight nearly as much, they spent their days talking together, and their nights...well, what they did at night was no one's business but their own, Scarlett reasoned, flushing.

'I'd love to play with you, darling,' she said to Wade, smiling as his cheeks went crimson as the endearment. Taking his outstretched hand, she let him lead her up the stairs and into the nursery. her daughters were already there, stretched out on the carpet playing with Wade's toy soldiers.

'BAM!' Bonnie yelled excitably, banging her toy repeatedly against Ella's until her sister's figurine fell to the floor. 'BAM! BAM! BAM!'

Ella's eyes started to water as she took in the sight of her defeated toy.

'BAM!' Bonnie yelled, hitting it again.

'Don't do that!' Wade cried, picking the soldier up and carefully checking it for damage. 'You'll break it!'

'Will not!' Bonnie retorted hotly.

Sensing that an argument was about to break out, Scarlett, nerves already frayed from the day's earlier conflict, stepped in to ward it off. 'Who wants to hear a story?' she asked, moving across the room to pick up a sniffling Ella. She cradled her eldest daughter against her chest as she walked over to the large armchair situated in the corner of the room by the window. Sitting down, she placed Ella on her left side, and called for Bonnie to come and sit on her right. Wade took up a seat on the floor by her feet.

'What's the story about, mother?' he asked.

'Is it a good one?' Bonnie added, her tone suggesting she would be mightily unimpressed if it wasn't.

'Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Bonnie,' a voice said from the doorway, almost making Scarlett jump out of her seat in fright. 'Your mother is renowned for her ability to create elaborate fictions. It's telling the truth that she struggles with.'

Scarlett's pulse spiked. The words had been cutting, but the tone was lazy. Bored, even. She stared at him, wondering if he knew. He did not look like a man who'd just been informed that his wife had been discovered in a compromising position with another man, but then Rhett's reactions had never been an easy thing to predict. He had a habit of growing quiet when other people grew angry, sarcastic when others turned sombre. You never could trust in what you saw. He was the only man she knew who was capable of saying the cruellest of things in the gentlest of voices.

'Rhett...'

'Why don't you go downstairs and see Mammy?' he said, cutting her off as he addressed the children. 'I've left the treats I brought you back from town with her in the kitchen.'

'Thank you,' Wade and Ella said, running from the room.

'What is the treat?' Bonnie demanded, walking over to Rhett.

He bent down, crouching back lightly on his haunches, as he grinned at her. 'Why don't you go and see?'

Bonnie wrapped her arms around his neck, clearly expecting to be picked up. 'Want you to come too.'

'I wish I could, but I've got to stay and speak to your mother for a moment. Why don't you be a big girl and go down by yourself?' he coaxed, carefully untangling her hands from around his nape.

Bonnie looked as if she was about to argue, when Rhett added craftily, 'If you don't hurry, Wade and Ella will have eaten your share before you get there.'

Her little forehead puckering up in consternation, Bonnie rushed out of the door.

Scarlett, who'd watched the entire exchange in silence, suddenly found that her throat had grown impossibly dry. She coughed, trying to clear it.

'I thought you'd be getting ready for the reception,' Rhett said lightly.

For a moment, Scarlett did not know what he meant. In the tumult of leaving the lumber yard, she had forgotten why she'd even gone there in the first place. Tonight was Ashley's surprise party, and she would be expected to show her face. The last thing she wanted was to spend an evening surrounded by people who thought the worst of her. To stand in a room with India and Archie and all the old cats, watching them whisper about her behind their hands, their eyes narrow and openly hostile.

For once, she felt no desire to see Ashley, either. It was his fault they were in this mess. If he hadn't started reminising about the damn past then she never would have gotten upset, never would have needed comforting. God's nightgown, she could strangle him for doing this to her! Everything had been going so well, recently. Her children were opening up to her, her neighbours were seduced by Rhett's campaign to regain respectability, and Rhett...Rhett was as he had always been: reckless, aggravating, and jeering, but somehow so much more than that, too. He went out of his way to be kind to her now, to make her laugh, to pamper her like a queen, and to kiss her like he'd go mad if he didn't.

It frightened her just how much she didn't want to lose all of that.

'It's still early,' she said. 'I need to talk to you first.'

'About what?' he asked. His voice was casual, only politely curious, and she knew then that Archie had told him. Before they'd started sleeping together again she would have been fooled by his display, but she knew him better now. He was well aware of what had happened with Ashley, but he wasn't going to make things easier for her by admitting it.

Scarlett squared her shoulders, getting up from the chair to face him head on. 'About what happened at the lumber yard today.'

Rhett huffed softly underneath his breath, a small exhale of surprise. Scarlett realised that he had not been expecting her to be honest with him. Now who struggles with the truth? she wanted to say.

He glanced at her, and his eyes were blank. 'Oh? Pray, tell.'

'It wasn't what you think. Ashley-'

Saying his name had been a mistake. She realised it as soon as the word left her lips. Rhett's face twitched, and all of the emotions he had deliberately kept from her came surging back into eyes which flayed across her skin with all the force and heat of a buggy whip. Grabbing her arms, he pulled her roughly against him and walked her backwards until her back hit the nursery wall. She looked desperately towards the open door, fearful that a servant might pass by and see them.

'Rhett-' she tried, but it was too late for that.

'What was it like, Scarlett?' he hissed, his lips close to her ear. His breath was hot and damp, and the smell of alcohol was strong. Scarlett's nose wrinkled up in distaste. It had been weeks now since he'd last touched a drop. After he'd returned to her bed, Scarlett had complained that he was drinking too much, and he'd laughed, saying he would stop. That he no longer had any need for it, anyway.

'I've recently rediscovered a far more pleasant way of whiling away the midnight hours,' he'd whispered huskily, turning to her with a grin that told her she wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

The effects of his temperance were clear to see. The slight puffiness of his features had disappeared, a sharpness returning to his face as his body regained the power and elegance that had set many a woman's heart a-fluttering when he'd first arrived in Atlanta. He started to smile like he'd used to back then, as well: easily, fully, and with more than a fleeting hint of the forbidden. It was intoxicating.

She felt her body respond to his proximity, even as she fought to escape his hold. His grip tightened. 'I said, what was it like, Scarlett? To be so close to your beloved after all these years of yearning for him? Was it everything you imagined it would be? Did he call your name? Whisper sweet nothings in your ear? Did he kiss you?'

'No!' she cried, tearing her face away. 'It wasn't like that. It wasn't like that, at all!'

'Then tell me what it was like.'

'I can't!'

'Why not?' he demanded, shaking her.

'Because...because...' she started, only to trail off uselessly. She could feel her throat tightening painfully as the images of her past flashed up before her eyes once more. Ashley's words earlier in the day had broken down her walls so completely that she could not now put them back up. They were in her head now, and they wouldn't let her be. They were all there: Tara, the twins, the Calverts, the Fontaines, Pa, Mother, Twelve Oakes, her sisters, her horses, her dogs, the balls, the dresses, the beaux, the sun dappled bridle paths and rolling red fields, the headlong happiness of youth, of family, of belonging. She missed it. She missed it desperately. Every single last piece of it. She wanted it back, but she couldn't have it, and it was killing her. It was killing her, and she didn't know how to make it stop.

She just wanted it all to stop.

'Why can't you tell me?'

'Because I can't!'

'WHY?'

'BECAUSE IT HURTS!'

She was crying when she said it. She could feel the hot tears streaking down her cheeks, blurring her vision. There was an ugly, hacking sound coming from deep within her, tearing its way up her throat. She shuddered, her body as cold and weak as the day she'd lain in the ashes of Twelve Oakes, surrounded by the charred remnants of her childhood world, and beat the ground savagely with her fist. She thought she'd left it behind her, that day. That she'd picked herself up and moved on with her life, but she'd been deceiving herself. Part of her would always be there, crying hopelessly over a past she could not fix. A life she had loved, and which she could not get back.

It was too much for one person to have to bear alone. She couldn't do it anymore. Suddenly, her legs gave out. She thought she would fall, but then someone was picking her up, holding her close and carrying her across the room to sit in the armchair. Rhett. She pushed herself further into his lap, burying her face in the collar of his shirt and sobbing until she thought her heart would break from the enormity of her pain.

She did not know how long they sat there, her weeping and him stroking her hair and whispering things that she could not hear. It could have been minutes. It could have been days. It felt like years.

Eventually, she could cry no more. Her eyes were swollen and sore, her mouth parched and aching.

'Tell me,' Rhett said again, but this time it wasn't a command. It was a plea.

So, she did. She told him about growing up on a cotton plantation in a quiet county in the north of Georgia. She told him about being the daughter of a Irishman with the bark of a Bulldog and the heart of a lamb, and a great lady of French descent, who spoke softly and loved gently. She told him about being the eldest of three sisters; the bravest, the most beautiful. She told him about fiery, wild-eyed boys who'd felt like brothers and who'd grown up to be beaux.

She told him about the girl she had been in the years before she met him. The girl she still was, underneath it all.

And, when she was finished, she told him about Ashley. About what had really happened in the lumber yard. He believed her.

Later, they got up and had supper with the children. They got ready for the reception and headed across to Melanie and Ashley's house. Scarlett hesitated on the doorway, not wanting to go in, but Melanie did not turn them away, instead asking Scarlett if she would help receive the other guests with her. Scarlett nodded her head shakily, more grateful than she could possibly express.

That night, tucked up in bed, shielded by a darkness that made her feel braver, Scarlett told Rhett that he had nothing to fear where Ashley was concerned.

'It was different today. I didn't feel the way I used to when I saw him. I still cared about him, I think I always will, but only as a friend. An old friend who I was sure I used to love more, once, without quite remembering why.'

'What brought about this drastic change?' Rhett asked. She was stretched out on top of him, her front against his chest, and, as he spoke, one of his hands slid beneath her nightdress and tickled its way softly up the length of her back, from the base of her spin to the nape of her neck.

Scarlett shivered, losing her train of thought. Rhett smirked, and did it again.

'I can't think when you're doing that!' she huffed, squirming.

'I'll stop,' he said, but didn't.

Sighing at his obstinacy, but enjoying his caress far too much to really object to it, Scarlett tried to gather herself. 'I think it started the night Bonnie came into my room after her nightmare. It made me realise that there's a mighty big difference between dreaming and waking.'

'An astute observation, my pet. I commend you. But what exactly do you mean by it?'

'It's like...well, it's like Ashley's my mother and you're my pa.'

'Excuse me?'

Scarlett looked at Rhett's horror-struck face, and laughed loudly. 'Not really, of course! Fiddle dee dee, Rhett, what a thought! No, I just mean that, when I was younger, I always preferred my mother to my pa. I thought she was perfect. I put her on this big, tall pedestal that no one else could ever hope of climbing. I did that with Ashley, too. They're both such gentle creatures; quiet, proud, clever. Hard to understand. I think I chose them because they were both so different from me. I thought they were better, and that I should try to be more like them. That perhaps I could be better too, if only I loved them hard enough.'

'That's all very well, Scarlett. But I'm afraid I still don't understand how this makes me the least bit like your father.'

She frowned, trying to find a way to say it so that he would understand. 'What I'm trying to say is, if you'd asked me who I loved more, my mother or my pa, I'd have said my mother. Every single time. But, if you asked me who I ran to when I cut my knee on a branch, who I sprinted down the lane to meet each evening, who I used to hope would be the one to find me when I stood in the hallway playing my game-'

'What game?'

'Shush,' she scolded him, not wanting to be distracted now that she was finally getting somewhere. 'That's not the point. What matters is, if you asked me who I liked more. Who I needed more. Who I miss more...'

'You'd say your pa,' Rhett said slowly, understanding slowly dawning.

'I'd say Pa,' she agreed, smiling. 'Always Pa. He knew how to love someone, Rhett. Really love someone. People like Mother and Ashley, they do their best, but they're so reserved that they always end up falling short. I think I loved them harder to try and make up for what they couldn't give me in return. I never had to do that with Pa. I always knew exactly how much he adored me, how much he would do to make me happy. He'd have gone to the ends of the earth and back if he'd thought it was what I wanted, I know he would have. Jut like I know you would, too.'

Rhett's hand, which was still skimming up and down her back, came to rest on her neck. He squeezed lightly, angling her face up so he could kiss her.

'You know it, do you?' he asked, pulling back.

'I do.'

'Good,' he said. 'Because it's true. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Scarlett. Nothing at all. All you ever have to do is ask.'

She stared at him, shocked to hear him admit it so openly, but could find only truth in his eyes.

'I love you,' she blurted out clumsily, unable to keep it inside any longer.

'I know you do,' he replied, grinning.

His hands were roaming again now, and Scarlett felt herself melting into him.

'Scarlett,' Rhett murmured, his lips sliding against hers.

'Hmm?' she replied, dazed.

'I love you, too, you know.'

'Oh, I know,' she said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as if it was nothing. It wasn't. 'Why wouldn't you?'

Rhett chuckled throatily, and she pulled him closer, joining in.

A week after Ashley's birthday party Scarlett was walking home after visiting Melly. Her friend's loyalty had not wavered for a second during the whole ghastly ordeal surrounding the embrace at the lumber yard. Instead Archie had been asked to move out, and it was widely reported around town that India and Mrs. Elsing had been politely asked never to darken her doorway again. The trust Melanie had shown in her had not gone unnoticed by Scarlett, and she was determined to repay her friend for her kindness in any way she could.

She'd even gone so far as to join Melly's sewing circle, though she despised needlework and found most of the other members dreadfully boring. Today's meeting had been particularly tedious. After an hour spent listening to Pitty complain about the travails of having to live with India, and pricking her thumb no less than five separate times with the damned needle, Scarlett was more than ready to go home, put her feet up, and sleep for the rest of the evening.

As she entered her house, however, she could hear the sounds of the children playing with Rhett in the parlour. They were making an awful racket, whooping and yelping like a pack of wild Indians. Scarlett opened her mouth to yell at them to keep quiet, when a old memory stopped her swiftly in her tracks.

On an impulse, she shut the front door as soundlessly as she could, and leant back against it. She stood there, not daring to move a muscle, as a long-forgotten hum of anticipation gradually began to bubble up in her belly. She found herself wondering who would be the first one to come out and spot her. There were six main possibilities: Rhett, Wade, Ella, Bonnie, Mammy and Pork. She guessed it would be Rhett, and hoped that she would be proven right. Even at an age when she should have known better, Scarlett O'Hara Butler still dearly loved to win.

She did not know how long she'd have to wait for someone to come along and find her, but she found that she did not mind standing there, wasting time on a silly game.

It felt exciting. It felt right. It felt like coming home.

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