Immediately after the end of Gone with the Wind...

"Rhett, wait."

He stood in the doorway, his hat already on and his bag tightly clutched in his left hand.

"Scarlett, please don't drag this unpleasant affair out. Let's try to say farewell with a sense of strength and bravery. Not neediness or desperation. You can do that, can't you? You've been doing it your whole adult life."

"I just… I need… you. Please. Kiss me, Rhett. Just one last time."

He sighed heavily. Touching her was the last thing he wanted to do. But he couldn't say no. What did he care? She didn't matter to him anymore, why not grant her a final wish?

"Alright." He gently placed his bag by the door and pulled her body to his. He slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

But the kiss wasn't like anything they'd had before. It was kind and gentle, but it was… empty. There was no burning passion behind it, and it left Rhett feeling colder than he had before.

Seeing Rhett so apathetic pained Scarlett greatly, but it was almost normal for him. There was something incredibly off putting and unsettling about a tame and passionless Scarlett. It went against everything she did, everything that was associated with her.

Her limp body and broken soul belied the years she had spent flirting with beaus, ruthlessly fighting for her family's survival, and dreaming after Ashley. She had never relinquished and accepted defeat, her iron will had never been destroyed.

He couldn't stand to feel her cold lips or slouched form against him for a moment longer.

Before she knew it, Rhett had backed off and renewed his firm grasp on the handle of his luggage. "Goodbye, Scarlett."

And then he was gone.

"Goodbye, my love."

Memories assaulted her as she trudged down the hall and up the looming staircase.

Mother, Pa, the baby, Bonnie, Melly, Rhett. Mother, Pa, the baby, Bonnie, Melly, Rhett

Each gone. They'd all abandoned her, but Rhett had chosen to go. She was worth nothing more to him than the old cats after Bonnie's death.

She just couldn't think of it anymore. It was too much. She had to go, she needed to do something…

She was so wrapped up in her pain that she didn't notice how the front door creaked while she struggled to climb the steps.

Her pent up sorrow and cinching corset conspired to shorten her breathing drastically. Each breath was ragged and burned in her chest. The stairs were never-ending red velvet, each step reminding her of the sharp pain in her side and the torture she had experienced in the empty house.

Black and rainbow spots danced around her vision, almost blinding her by the time she finally reached the top. Stumbling into her dark bedroom, Scarlett set about finding it.

If only she had it, she'd finally be able to forget her pain. Where was it? She knew she had hidden it in a hat box a while back. It wasn't until then, when she was desperately fumbling in the dark for it, that she realized that she should have put it in a more accessible spot. Just another regret.

She knocked the correct container open at last. The object gleamed appealingly inside, calling to her.

There was no time to think about what she was about to do. There wasn't any way to think with the pounding in her skull or the held-back tears drowning her heart.

The shadow that had been following at a distance had been in the doorway, watching her frantic search.

It figured that she would go straight for the swoon bottle. After all, she had a terrible habit of drinking alone. She should have just settled for the decanter downstairs, it was a lot easier to find and was much closer before she had fought her way up the stairs.

They sneered at the desperate picture she made, digging around for a drink like an animal.

When they caught sight of the item, however, their heart stopped cold. Fear paralyzed them and a cold sweat broke out across their body.

Scarlett pulled up the gun and quickly unlocked the safety before bringing it to her skull. She pressed it heavily into her skull, ready to fire.

A strangled cry stopped her. She looked up, peering into the darkness. The shadowy figure moving with quick strides towards her was incredibly familiar. She'd recognize him anywhere.

Panic swirled with her pain. The crazed expression that took over her face and terrifying gleam in her eye only pushed Rhett to move faster, to save her from herself.

"Don't touch me," she cried out, scooting further into the dark closet.

His pace slowed for a beat, but he was still moving towards her at a steady pace.

"Don't touch me," she shrieked. Her scream was ear piercing, and it arrested Rhett's movement for a moment. He continued his approach cautiously, trying his best not to scare her into firing the pistol.

"Come on, honey. Let me in. It's alright, darling, I'm just going to come in, I won't hurt you. Why don't you put the gun down? It's going to be just fine, honey. Now just lay the gun down for me."

He continued to murmur comforting things and requests for her to lay down the weapon, keeping his tone as light and soothing as possible.

Scarlett didn't calm down. His kind words had almost the opposite effect on her. She grew more frantic and her eyes darted around quickly, almost as if she was checking for people who weren't there. Breathing was increasingly difficult, and she began hyperventilating.

"I… I do—don't wa—wan… want to… to li-live." Her gasps shook her whole body. The jostled gun pressed harder into her temple.

"Darling, think of everything you've got. I know you don't want to do this, honey. Now, come on…"

Rhett lunged at her, grabbing her wrist right as Scarlett pulled the trigger.