It had been two years since Rhett had walked out on Scarlett. After the first few awkward and tense visits the two found themselves in a mostly complacent friendship. Scarlett had not believed that Rhett would actually keep his word to return to Atlanta to keep the gossip down, but a little over a month after he left he breezed back into as if nothing had ever happened. The first few times he came to town, Scarlett did her best to avoid him. She would try to hide in her room for days on end waiting for him to leave again. Her feelings for Rhett were still the same but she could not bring herself to say the words again. She wasn't going to tell him how she felt again, until he told her where his heart was.

Rhett had tried to stay away from Atlanta, but much like early in their relationship he could feel her pulling him back to her. He hated that she felt the need to hide from him when he came into town. After his third visit, Rhett was the one to extend the olive branch. He was about to knock on her door, when he thought better of it and just walked into her room. She was sitting at her vanity brushing her hair. He was still in love with her, but his pride wouldn't let himself go to her. He knew she would readily come back to him if he just said the word. He needed her to be the one to come to him; he wasn't willing to be the one to make the first move. If nothing else he hoped they could be friends again.

"Scarlett," she startled when she heard his voice. "I wish you wouldn't hide away in your room when I come into town. I would like for us to have some semblance of friendship, we were friends once."

Scarlett sighed. "I'll try; Rhett, but I can't make any promises."

"That's all I ask." He turned and left her alone.

Now it was two years later and Scarlett found herself looking forward to Rhett's visits. He was still the only person she could openly be herself around. He always gave her sound advice when it came to running her store and would advise her on how to invest her money. He had been splitting his time almost evenly between Charleston and Atlanta. He informed the old cats in Atlanta that his mother was ill and he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. Scarlett didn't think many people believed his story, but she went along with it to save face. She was sitting in the library reading her latest Godey's Ladies Book, when Rhett came sweeping through the door.

"Oh, I hadn't realized you were in here. I'll just go to my room to read."

Scarlett looked around the large library and chuckled.

"Rhett, I think there is plenty of room for both of us in here." She didn't tell him that she spent most of her time in the library these days because it reminded her of him.

Scarlett froze in terror when she saw the book that Rhett held in his hands. It was her book, her story, her life. Now she wished she had just let him walk away. She knew it wouldn't take him long to figure out that she had written the book. She had changed many things; names, descriptions of people etc., but anyone who knew her as intimately as Rhett did would recognize her story. There was speculation around Atlanta that she wrote it but only Ashley and Uncle Henry knew for sure. She had never considered that Rhett would read her book. Rhett preferred the classics, as he always called them, or books by authors whose names Scarlett couldn't even pronounce. He had always stated that he hated contemporary fiction.

"Doesn't seem like your kind of book, Rhett." Scarlett fought the urge to rip the book out of his hands and toss it into the fireplace. Of course, doing such a thing would only spark Rhett's curiosity more.

Rhett looked down at the book in his hands and laughed. Gone with the Wind was all the rage and his sister had implored him to read the book. Rhett didn't normally go for this sort of drivel but with all of the talk going around about the book he gave into his curiosity. He had heard rumors that someone in Atlanta had written the book, but no one seemed to want to take credit for it. He was hoping that by reading it he could figure out the mysterious writer.

"No, it isn't, but my sister ensured me that it is not to be missed. Have you read it yet, my pet?"

Scarlett paused for a second; she thought she was going to faint from all of the anxiety she was feeling.

"You know I don't care for reading." Rhett studied his wife's face. There was something that she wasn't telling him. Knowing Scarlett and her reputation, there was probably a thinly veiled reference to her in the book. Someone had probably painted her as a greedy, selfish, cold hearted woman he figured.

"You aren't at all curious about the phantom Atlanta writer?"

"Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett, it's a silly novel that everybody is making too much fuss about."

"Well, I want to see if I can figure it out. Hard to believe that someone doesn't want to take all the credit for writing such a best seller."

Scarlett made an impatient sound and went back to reading her book or pretending to read. She wanted to escape the library. Her first thought was to flee to Tara, but she forced herself to sit still she didn't want Rhett asking more questions.

Rhett sat back and watched his wife. He couldn't figure out her odd behavior this afternoon. He thought they had gotten to a place where they could be comfortable with each other's presence. It was at least better now than it had been on his first visits. He shook his head and opened the book.

Vivien Leigh was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Reeves twins were.

Rhett settled deeper into his chair as he fell into the spell of the story. He didn't even notice when Scarlett quietly exited the room.

Two Years Ago

Scarlett decided to start writing out her life story. She wanted to know when it had gotten so far off track. All she could ever remember wanting, besides Ashley, was to be a great lady like her mother. Somewhere along the way she had taken a sharp detour off that path. Scarlett thought the biggest event that had the most impact on her life had to be meeting Rhett Butler. Scarlett grabbed a pen and her journal and started writing about the day the Tarleton twins had told her about how Ashley was to announce his engagement to Melanie. That day she had come up with the silly plan to make Ashley jealous and then confess her love for him. She shook her head at the memory of that day.

For months Scarlett furiously wrote in her journals. She allowed herself to be brutally honest about her life and the things that she had done. She thought that she would be the only person that was going to read these thoughts. Often she found herself crying over the events that had taken place in her life. After months of writing down her story, Scarlett read over the journals in disbelief. How could so much tragedy happen to someone that wasn't even thirty years old yet? Scarlett admitted to herself that she had led an exciting, if not somewhat sad life. A new thought formed in Scarlett's mind, why not turn her journals into a novel. No one would ever think that so much could happen to one person. Slowly, Scarlett poured over her journals changing details along the way. Scarlett became Vivien, a blond haired, blue eyed vixen that could charm anything in pants. Rhett became Clark, a roguish; cad with a bad reputation, but deep down he had a good heart. Scarlett changed as much as she could but she knew she hadn't been able to disguise it enough and keep it her story.

Scarlett went to her Uncle Henry for help with finding a publisher. He said he would look into it for her and would let her know what he found out. Several weeks later, Uncle Henry informed her that a publishing house in New York wanted to publish the book. Scarlett was overjoyed at the prospect. Scarlett's one request was that her name not be given as the author. Henry suggested the name Margret Mitchell; she had been a sweetheart of his in his younger days. He didn't think anyone in Atlanta would remember her name.

The first time Scarlett saw her book in a store window she was overwhelmed by a sense of accomplishment. Then came the backlash. The book had become a runaway bestseller, especially in Atlanta. Everyone in town was buzzing about who could have possibly written the book. Everyone thought the book was about Scarlett, it was too much like her life. Vivien had been married three times just like Scarlett. Vivien had gotten her second husband killed just like Scarlett. People speculated that it had to be Rhett or Scarlett that had written the book. Other people thought that it couldn't have been either one, neither was portrayed in a very favorable light. Some thought it was India Wilkes who wrote the book, everyone knew she harbored a crazy jealousy of Scarlett. Scarlett knew the entire town was gossiping about her, but she had grown accustomed to their gossip years ago. She hadn't thought her book would be so compelling to people.

Scarlett wasn't surprised when Ashley asked her if she was the mysterious writer. She had gone to his house to call on him and Beau. She saw the book sitting on one of Ashley's side tables. Ashley followed her gaze and now was his chance to ask her about the book.

"You wrote it didn't you, Scarlett?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, if it offends you Ashley. But I needed to get my thoughts out and when I read it I thought it made a great story."

"Was Rhett really in the library that day?" Scarlett simply nodded her head.

"And you kicked him out of your room because of the things I said?"

Scarlett's patience with Ashley was wearing thin, she didn't want to rehash all of this him.

"Ashley, everything is true. I just changed names and what people look like."

"I can't believe he never called me out."

"I think he cared too deeply about Melanie to do that. All I ask of you, Ashley, is please keep this to yourself. I know some people already assume I wrote it, but they don't need to know the truth."

"Of course, I won't tell a soul."

Scarlett left shortly afterwards and was thankful that Rhett wasn't the type to read her book.

Rhett sat reading the book and everything felt eerily familiar. The girl was a selfish brat living on her father's plantation. Rhett immediately thought someone had written this book to mock his wife. The girl was desperately in love with her neighbor but he was set to marry someone else. Rhett sat up at attention when he came to the library scene. There were only three people who knew what had transpired in that library that day; and he knew he didn't write this book. Rhett wondered if the little gentleman had written this book, he would break his neck if he did. Scarlett was many things but she didn't deserve to be dragged through the mud like this. Another realization hit Rhett, as far as he knew Ashley wasn't aware of his presence that day. Maybe Scarlett had told him at some point. Rhett couldn't imagine that Scarlett could have written this; she was never honest when it came to her character. Rhett rang the servants to tell them to bring his supper to the library; he didn't seem able to put the book down. Several hours later, when his eyes were so bleary he couldn't see straight, he forced himself to put the book down and go to bed.

The next morning Scarlett managed to get out of bed before Rhett. She tiptoed down to the library to see if he had left the book down there. It was sitting in the chair that Rhett had been sitting in the day before. Scarlett was surprised at how far the marker had been placed in the book. She had been too afraid to come down for dinner the night before; she knew a confrontation was bound to occur she just wanted to delay it as long as possible. She opened the book to see what part he was on.

"God's nightgown!" she exclaimed out loud. He was at the blasted jail house scene. If there was any doubt that the book was about them it would gone now. He would know that she wrote the book. The instinct that Scarlett felt yesterday to escape to Tara overwhelmed her again. This time she gave into the impulse.

"Pork, when Captain Butler wakes up, tell him I had urgent business out of town. I'll be gone for a few days."

"Yes'm. If he aks whar you gone ter?"

"Tell him I didn't say." Pork just nodded his head, he knew better than to question Miss Scarlett.

Scarlett flew upstairs and quickly packed a carpet bag. She had Pork drop her off at the train station and she took the first train to Jonesboro.

A few hours later, Rhett woke up. He needed to talk to Scarlett about that book. He was going back and forth in his mind about whether or not she had written it. He thought that if Scarlett were to write a book she would only cast herself in the most positive light. He sat up and tried to rub the sleep off of his face. He got dress for the day and went in search of his wife. He looked all over the house for her and couldn't find her anywhere. Finally Rhett asked one of the maids where Scarlett was.

"Pork say she has impo'tant bidness outer town, that she be back in few days."

Rhett's suspicion was confirmed, she had written the book. She wouldn't feel the need to hide otherwise. Rhett knew there was only one place she would go, Tara. His first thought was to go there and confront her about her book. But instead he decided to finish it first. The scenes between her and Ashley had almost made him ill to read. He had been in love with her at the time of the orchard scene and he didn't want to think of her kissing Ashley. He burned with bitter resentment as he read the part about the jail house. He couldn't believe how he had almost been taken in by her manipulations. Rhett closed himself in the library and forced himself to read every single word. He was appalled over how he acted after Ashley's party, but also curious because according to her he had awakened something in her that night. She had tried to tell him the day he left, but he hadn't really paid much attention to the things she had said that day. He wept over the baby that was a result of that night and the guilt he still felt by telling her maybe she would have an accident. Just as soon as he had composed himself, he got to Bonnie's accident. He cried for his child and for the horrible barbs that the two had exchanged at that time when they should have been comforting each other. He read the final passage between Scarlett and himself twice before closing the book and wiping the tears away from his face. He was ashamed of his behavior; it upset him that she thought about him that way. He had to explain to her before that he treated her the way he had because he was afraid she would use his feelings against him. He wondered if she still loved him, he wouldn't blame her if she hated him forever. He grabbed the book and abruptly left the house. When he got to the train station he remembered that Wade and Ella were at the house alone. He rationalized that there were dozens of servants at the house someone could see to their wellbeing.

Scarlett was sitting on the porch at Tara. She wasn't surprised when she saw a carriage pull up to the house; she had been expecting him all day. She watched her husband climb out of the carriage and pay the driver. She didn't know why he had felt the need to bring the book; there was no way for her to deny that she had written it.

"Interesting book. Sure you don't want to read it?" Scarlett laughed softly, she couldn't remember the last time he had teased her.

"Oh, hush Rhett, you know I wrote it." Rhett chuckled at her admission.

"I thought I was going to have to drag a confession out of you. How can people not know that you wrote it? You didn't hide your identity very well."

"Ashley and Uncle Henry know. As for everyone else, I think they suspect but I won't give them the satisfaction of admitting it."

"You told Ashley?" He didn't know why it hurt that she told Ashley but not him. "What did he have to say?"

"He guessed and when he asked I didn't feel the need to lie about it. He wondered why you never called him out. He was surprised that you were hiding in the library that first day."

"I've told you before you two interrupted me; I was there first," his eyes were dancing at the thought of their first meeting. A serious look came over Rhett's face.

"Scarlett, I'm sorry. For… Well just about everything I guess."

Scarlett held her hand up to stop him for going any further.

"Rhett, neither of us is innocent. That is what I learned from writing my book. We both spent many years hiding feelings and being fools. I'm just glad that we are back to being friends."

Rhett wasn't happy being friends with Scarlett. He wanted more from her and he suspected that he would always want more.

"You lied in your book."

"Of course I lied Rhett, it's a novel. I embellished, I changed facts. I didn't want it to be one hundred percent me."

"I'm talking about one specific lie."

Scarlett looked at her husband. She didn't know what he was referring to. The basics of the story were all true.

"It's all true Rhett."

Rhett opened the book and went to the last page and began to read aloud.

"I'll go crazy if I think about losing him now. I can't let him go! There must be some way! There had never been a man she couldn't get once she set her mind upon him. Tomorrow, I'll think of some way to get him back. You have never made any attempt to win me back."

"Well after those first few visits, we were so awkward and tense around each other. Then you offered your friendship and it felt great to have you back in my life again. I didn't want to ruin things by declaring my love for you and have you run off again. Also you told me that day you didn't believe in clean slates and starting over."

"As I told you on the night I proposed, I once said too many damn things."

Scarlett walked over to Rhett and wrapped into an embrace. She could feel his lips in her hair.

"So tell me," Rhett said as he reopened the book. "Is this part true?" He flipped through the book looking for a specific passage. He opened the book to the part where he had asked her to be his mistress.

"So, did my kisses really caress your body thrillingly? You wanted to run your fingers through my hair and feel my lips? And you claimed you were only fond of me!"

Scarlett blushed deep red. Playfully she slapped at her husband.

"Yes, and I want to feel your lips now."

Rhett bent forward and claimed his wife's lips. He felt the same vital electricity she had described in the book, as they kissed. He vaguely wondered if she was just working on material for the sequel.