Please help this hopeless being get over her own perfectionism, aka cleaning and finishing every single drawing because ‘a sketch is not enough’. Send an ask, request a character/pairing, and i’ll draw them for you!
My fandoms:
- Disney/Dreamworks
- Miraculous Ladybug
- Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
- Anne of Green Gables / Anne with an E
- X Files
If you want me to draw from a source unlisted, please, don’t hesitate to. There are many films/books/series I know but haven’t listed, so it may turn out I know it too!
A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?
B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?
C: What character do you identify with most?
D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?
E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?
F: Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic?
G: Care to share a favorite crack fic?
H: How would you describe your style?
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].
K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?
L: What’s the weirdest AU you’ve ever come up with?
M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?
N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?
O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?
P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)
Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?
T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?
U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven’t tried yet.
V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?
W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?
X: A character you enjoy making suffer.
Y: A character you want to protect.
Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?
Anne Shirley has never be one to throw swearwords around carelessly - but then again, we all slip sometimes.
She just really isn’t sure how to feel about the fact that whenever she does, Gilbert Blythe is there to listen.
Shirbert, Modern AU, dedicated to/blamed on @wilderwestqueen
ff.net / AO3
"A fucking idiot, that's what I am!" she cried out with exasperation, tears still glistening in her grey-green eyes as she glared at her loyal friend, who had been trying so unsuccessfully to comfort her for the past quarter.
Gilbert could do little else than sigh wearily at the performance.
"You know this isn't true, Miss Highest-Score-On-The-Island-Last-Year," he said firmly, rubbing his temples, slowly losing hope that his reasoning could be of any help after all. "You made a mistake, and that's true; it could have been avoided and that is true as well. But for the last time, Anne, it doesn't make you a fool."
"Yes! Yes it does!" she objected instantly. "Oh, don't you understand anything?"
"I understand that you have accidentally put one customer's coffee on another customer's tray and then rushed towards their table with a speed of lighting as soon as you'd realised the mistake. You made it right long before either of those girls realised that there had been any mistake at all, not to mention that even if you hadn't, there would be next to no consequence – except maybe having to remake the order this once. Don't you think that maybe it's time to stop making it sound as if you'd killed someone in cold blood today?"
"You're impossible," Anne exclaimed again, burying her face in her hands, and nearly knocking her own tea with her elbow in the process. Gilbert reached out and moved the mug to a safer position, but said nothing. "And this whole situation is unbelievable. How can you not see that it was absolutely, entirely, doubtlessly my fault, all caused by my own cursed tendency to daydream? And that it shouldn't have been possible to even make such mistake, because the task was so silly, so simple. And goodness, Gil, consequences or not, can't you really see how stupid that makes me feel?"
For a few moments Gilbert did nothing but stared at her, carefully weighing his next words. His arsenal of good reasons was still quite well equipped, even with so many of them already presented to his miserable, slightly hysterical best friend. There were many things he could still tell her, remind her of: how she had been working in that shop for more than a month now and yet, it had been the first time when she'd made such a mistake; how the shop had been at its busiest, with students running in an out, ordering the strangest and most complicated drinks when she eventually had; how she herself had spent most of the preceding night studying, ending up with next to no sleep to keep her going through the day that followed after it.
And yet, knowing Anne Shirley as well as he did, Gilbert realised that none of those arguments would be of any meaning to her. She was too damn stubborn for them to be.
"Is that what you would say to me if the roles were reversed?" he asked suddenly, making her look up at him, surprised with this new approach. "Is that how you'd react if I had come here today and told you that I'd made such a mistake myself?"
Anne's eyes were round with shock when she said, "You know this isn't -"
"You know what, forget that," he interrupted her with a wave of his hand, taking her aback again. "You and I have argued enough times for me to imagine you actually saying something of the sort, so it doesn't really take us anywhere. But Diana? What about her? Would you treat her in the way you're treating yourself now?"
Anne took little time pondering over his question. As soon as she had comprehended the real meaning of it, she snorted impatiently, looking away with a scowl on her already wrinkled forehead.
"Well, first of all, Diana never would have made a mistake so dumb," she answered sharply, turning towards him once more to bestow another glare on his face. "The very notion is absurd, so I really don't think your example is a very good one."
"Alright then," Gilbert didn't give up. "What about Phil?"
"She might do something of this kind, I suppose; but I can hardly imagine her coming here to cry on my shoulder because of that. She's too strong – or too careless – to have a need for that."
"And you're not?"
"No!" Anne's voice was audibly higher this time, as she put down her mug with a clank, only narrowly avoiding spilling the beverage inside it on the table before her. "I'm not like her. I'm not used to people ignoring my mistakes thanks to a sweet smile I give them the next moment. I'm not having fun pretending I'm sillier than I am to appear more innocent or appealing. And I'm definitely not ready to take it calmly that my wit, my only good trait, turns out to be so much weaker that I thought it to be."
Silence fell on the room when she had finished her tirade, or at least this first, angry part of it. Gilbert, who had long ago learnt Anne's habits, knew that there was another part to come, probably even more serious than the one he'd just heard.
As impatient as he was growing, he knew he had to allow her to speak the rest whenever she choose to do so.
He watched her slump wearily and hide her face in her hands, his heart cracking with sorrow that mirrored the one that had so suddenly reflected on her. Careful not to startle her with his movement, he leaned forward and reached his hand to cover her wrist and hopefully drag it away from her face.
"I'm not Phil, Gilbert -" she said weakly a moment later, after she had eventually allowed him to do just that. "and I'm certainly not Diana, either. I'm me. Just me."
A sigh escaped Gilbert's lips, but he didn't let himself forget of the matter at hand. Easing his grasp on Anne's wrist, he slid his hand towards hers and covered it, giving her the little squeeze she undoubtedly needed. She looked up at him then; but it was clear she had no desire to speak anymore.
"Well, first of all, I really don't get that need to add the 'just' before talking about yourself," he said gently. "You're you, that's true; but it doesn't make you any worse than either of your unquestionably fantastic friends. And Anne, your wit really isn't any poorer than you think, as each of your tests and assignments confirms. Not to mention, there really is a lot more to you than your intelligence, you know."
She could hardly bring herself to do more than grumble at him. "Like what?"
"Like that incredible imagination of yours. No, Anne, you don't get to complain about it now, and even less so to blame that cursed coffee shop mistake on it. It is a gift; and like almost everything else, those also tend to be inconvenient at times." He fell silent for a moment, as if weighing his next words, even though he was perfectly sure of what he wanted to say. With a quick glance to her heavy bag that now lay in the corner of her room and the stacks of books that covered more than a few spots in it, he resumed, "You are hard-working and consequent, both in your studies and any other jobs you take upon yourself. You can be determined to the extend no one I know is -"
"I believe you meant to say stubborn, coach Blythe -"
"Even if, then it is in the utterly positive way," he refuted her argument easily, finally letting go of her hand and reaching out for her abandoned mug instead. "It made you catch up and outshine everyone at school and now it's pushing you to do the same here. And yet, even that isn't all. Because you know what else you are, Anne?"
"I can't wait to find out," she muttered under her breath.
"You are kind."
The look she gave him was full of disbelief at first, and was now starting to border with derisiveness as well. It was a look Gilbert had expected; he held it calmly, aware of how much depended on his own show of certainty, of his belief in what he was saying now.
"I'm under a strong impression you no longer know whom you're talking to, Gil," she grumbled eventually, taking her mug from him and resting her lips against its rim. "Either that, or you're just quoting some great motivational speeches without thinking; to be fair, I'd prefer the former to be the case. I would be severely disappointed to find you so utterly unprofessional."
"You can call me whatever you like, Carrots. You know that, unlike some people, I'm immune to name-calling, especially when done by you," he answered her lightly, before saying, "Now if you just let me do what I'm trying to do here, it would be greatly appreciated. Will you?"
"Will I what, exactly?"
"Will you humour me and answer the question I asked you before? About Diana?"
That request earned Gilbert another glare on Anne's part, but she did not protest this time. Swallowing the last of her tea she muttered a quiet "Fine," before she put the mug away and breathed in deeply.
"Okay," she spoke up eventually. "Assuming that by some great disturbance in the Force or another miracle Diana Barry actually managed to mix up her orders and serve the drinks to wrong consumers, and that she would care about such a mishap enough to come to me looking for comfort -"
"You know that she would -"
"In such case, I believe I would tell her to put it behind her and not to worry too much," Anne finished with a roll of her eyes. "I suppose I'd tell her that everyone can make a mistake and that it doesn't make her any less competent, especially as no real harm was done, and that, knowing how well-organised and skilled in the field she is – because honestly, I've never seen a barrister more talented than her – we really must agree that there was some external powers at work for her to make any mistake in the first place."
"Powers like a night spent with Shakespeare?" Gilbert suggested with a smile.
"I was thinking of witches and charms but I guess the Bard is closely enough related to those," Anne admitted with another roll of her big green-grey eyes.
"Good. Now pray tell me: why do those arguments are enough to justify Diana's error but not to justify yours?"
To that Anne had no ready response. She had expected the conversation to head that way, of course; she'd known what Gilbert's plan was all along and could not claim to be surprised by this final question of his.
And yet, she could not answer him, either.
Meanwhile, Gilbert went on. "Why can't you be kind to yourself in the same way you are to her? Why are you so unforgiving towards yourself when we both know how understanding you're always trying to be to everyone around you? They say you can't really go through life happy if you're not your own best friend – so why are you so determined not to be yours?"
For the first time that day Anne laughed quietly with a mischievous sparkle returning to her eyes once more.
"I suppose I'm too spoilt by having you and Diana occupy that post with such fervour," she admitted with a smile at last. "To be fair, I'm not even sure if I could beat you if I tried."
"Well, I dare say Di won't mind stepping down for such a noble cause," came Gilbert's ready answer. "And as much as I hate not coming in first, I certainly am used to you outrunning me by now. So? Do we have a deal, Miss Shirley, or should I really call Diana to support me in that final strive?"
"There's no need for that. At least, that's what my best friend thinks."
Anne Shirley has never be one to throw swearwords around carelessly - but then again, we all slip sometimes.
She just really isn’t sure how to feel about the fact that whenever she does, Gilbert Blythe is there to listen.
Shirbert, Modern AU, dedicated to/blamed on @wilderwestqueen
ff.net / AO3
"Oh for fuck's sake," Anne gritted her teeth in frustration before letting out a painful groan, caused by her most untimely grimace. Her hand was pressed against her cheek again, even though she had long lost her belief that it could easy the ache in the slightest.
Everything hurt.
"You're holding up there, Carrots?" Gilbert's voice came from the kitchen, resonating with the same kindness and consideration that she had come to know so well, and yet, she could hardly find it in herself to think very favourably of him now; then again, right now she didn't really feel particularly affectionate towards any human being on this Earth. "I need another minute or two and I'll be there, or you can come here and take those pills on your own. So?"
"I'm not going anywhere," she muttered, her answer muffled by the pillow she had just thrust herself on. "I'm just gonna lie here until I die and then you'll have to deal with the corpse and - oh, fuck!"
"Now that's two swearwords in a row, Miss Shirley. I can't say I'm impressed," Gilbert commented jokingly as he finally entered the room and bestowed his gaze on his dearest Kindred Spirit's curled up form. He shook his head at her and sat carefully on the edge of the couch on which she was lying. And yet, his tone was gentle when he asked, "Is it really so bad?"
Anne mumbled something against the pillow, too quietly for him to make out any on the words she'd uttered.
He sighed wearily. "Anne, please, I'm trying to be helpful here. Does it really ache so much?"
"You ask that question one more time and I swear I'll punch you," she retorted, jerking up her head and dropping it immediately after, her whole body tense with discomfort. "I hate toothaches."
"I know," he sighed again, putting the glass in his hand on the tea-table and reaching out to massage Anne's back soothingly. She remained silent and so did he, until he remembered that there were better ways than fighting physical pain than rubbing the shoulder blades of the patient, no matter how in love the physician might be; he grasped her by the elbows and pulled her up to the sitting position. "Come on, I brought you some pills for it. It will still take some time for it to work, so the sooner you take it, the better, right?"
"And what kind of medicine is that?" she asked hoarsely, blinking away the tears that had already managed to well up in her eyes.
"As far as I'm aware, there's only one working for you, isn't there?" he responded with a grin, waving the small package before her eyes.
She smiled genuinely at that."I thought all things ibuprofen were banned from your house," she attempted lightly.
Gilbert shrugged, his grin widening. "It's not banned, it just doesn't really work for us. We're a paracetamol kind of family, you see."
"Then how -"
"Well, let's say I like to be prepared for whenever my best friend decides to develop a serious aching as soon as she finds herself under my roof."
Anne could not help but chuckle a little at that, her gratitude and appreciation reflecting clearly in the depths of her grey-green eyes. She accepted the medicine he had offered to her with a nod and took the glass from the table. Her eyes were closed when she drank and remained so for a few moments after, as if she'd been trying to fortify herself for the time necessary for the painkiller to take effect. Another wave of ache overcame her, however, and she realised with dismay that it was still a little too much for her to handle.
Without much thinking, she turned towards Gilbert and buried her face in his neck, groaning with much more emotion that could have possibly been justified, even considering the pain she had been struggling with. Gilbert's arm came around her almost instinctively, as he smiled at her antics, holding her close to him and hoping that this insignificant gesture - insignificant to _her, _anyway - could indeed bring her the comfort she so desperately needed, while simultaneously battling his own desire to cup her face in his hands and simply kiss the pain away.
His heart skipped a beat when he felt her fingers tighten on the fabric of his shirt and it is highly possible he would have caved then - but before he'd had a chance to do something so stupid as trying to make his ridiculous dream a reality, Anne spoke up, successfully rousing him from his meditations for good.
"You know what," she said against his collarbone, sending shivers down his spine. "Right now I could swear that, save Diana, you're the best friend I've got in the entire _fucking _world. And don't you dare diminish the compliment by fighting me over the f word in it."
Gilbert could do little more than laugh at her confession, his arms tightening around her slim silhouette just a little bit more. It would be a good few minutes before the medicine she had taken would start to work and somehow, he knew that she would not try to pull away until it did; and as long as she was there, trusting in the safety of this perfectly unromantic hug, he would not wish for anything else.
The best friend in the world was good enough for him now.
It was only a week before Gilbert would leave for Kingsport and not much more before Anne would go to Summerside herself - and yet, it could be nothing but the happiest week of their lives so far. The week when they got engaged. Shirbert, post Anne of the Island.
fanfiction.net / AO3
Chapter 1: The brithday of our happiness
“And as for the waiting, that doesn’t matter. We’ll just be happy, waiting and working for each other—and dreaming. Oh, dreams will be very sweet now.”
Gilbert drew her close to him and kissed her. Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.
- Lucy Maud Mongomery, “Anne of the Island”
Ever since she had been a little girl, Anne Shirley had often thought of what her first kiss would be like.
It had been little more than a dream at first, when she had felt too lonely and unloved to fully believe it might indeed happen to her one day; a colourful vision that had clashed so terribly with the cold and bleakness of the orphanage, with the hostility and despise of the homes she had lived in. Back then, she had not even given herself the right to carry her own name with her in those dreams, living them through her heroines, Princess Cordelia being her most natural choice.
After all, what was the chance that the homely, freckled, unwanted Anne could ever charm someone enough to willingly kiss her?
It had taken many years and the constant, almost stubborn support of Diana Barry for Anne to finally overcome the horrid and unjust image she had had of herself. Even then, however, her wish of this special caress always remained somewhat abstract, with poetry and music successfully blocking any trace of reality that tried to enter her thoughts in the process. She well remembered her girl friends' musings and comments on the appearance of the boys they knew: Ruby, swooning over one or other of her beaux, both at Queens and in her joyful Carmody circle; Diana, shyly pointing out how much the looks of her beloved Fred might gain if examined closely; even Stella and Priss, only half-jokingly admitting that if they were to have a kiss stolen from them, they could easily indicate which of the possible candidates they would have liked to see in that role the most.
And only Anne refused to give her man o' dreams any particular shape or face, beside fitting him into the well-worn, yet sufficiently vague description of the dark-eyed, mysterious knight, and feeling greatly vexed every time one of her chums suggested that under a favourable light and even more favourable circumstances, a certain pair of hazel eyes could be easily called both of those things.
And yet, as she stood in the midst of Hester Grey's garden now, held in the most loving embrace by no other but Gilbert Blythe himself, she could do little else but admit that she would willingly take the sparkling, teasing, tender hazels over any dark and misty gaze she might find along her way.
And he was, indeed, kissing her.
It was a strange sensation, for a lack of a better word. It was as abstract and incomprehensible as one might think, surprising in all its freshness and yet more astonishing still in how real and familiar it was. The same lips which she had watched for years, with one corner twitching up in a teasing smile or it all curved in an unwelcome grimace of vexation or pain... the same lips that had professed his love to her mere minutes ago... those lips were now pressed softly against her own, caressing her with an utmost gentleness and yet with an eagerness and longing of a decade of wait behind it.
Inexperienced as they both were, she could not imagine herself feeling more comfortable with him than she was right now.
"So many dreams I've had of this and yet they all pale in comparison with the real thing. With the real you," she heard him murmur as he had finally pulled away from her. "Anne, you can't know – you can't imagine how long I've been waiting for a chance to kiss you like this."
Anne met his gaze then and saw it was as dark as it had been in their most heated moments in the past, be it their fiery arguments over their Redmond assessments, discussed both in Avonlea and then Kingsport itself, or the rare moments of impatience, when Gilbert’s walls had crumbled to reveal the yearning of the heart she had not been ready to accept. It was a look that had scared her then – a sign of change she had once feared so much, one she had tried to prevent with such despair.
But her fears were gone now; whether it was mostly because of her own change of heart, or the new flash of happiness that brightened Gilbert's eyes this time, she could not yet tell... But she knew for sure that she was equally glad to recognise both.
"Well, I suppose your confession sheds some light on that matter," she said with a small, shy smile and a blush that still had not gone from her cheeks. "The slate, was it?"
Gilbert chuckled lightly at her words and tightened his grasp, holding her even closer to him that he had before. She felt her skin warm up further at the little change, the sensation helped greatly by the feel of his chest rising under her hands that still rested on the pats of his grey suit. She had an odd feeling that it was not exactly wise to lower her eyes to its level, either, but it was too late to worry about that aspect of it now...
And besides, when, if not now, when was she to experience all that?
"I'm sorry if it's not exactly what you hoped it to be," she picked up again timidly with a small, slightly embarrassed laugh of her own. She glanced up at Gilbert and saw him look at her curiously. "The... The kiss. I obviously had no chance to work on that particular skill in advance, and since even my dreams of it are so much younger than yours..."
"For goodness' sake, Anne, stop that right now," he cut her off, easing his embrace a little by lifting one of his hands to her still parted lips. "I only just told you that it had exceeded all of my dreams. What more reassurance do you need from me, now?"
With his fingers still pressed gently against her mouth, Anne could hardly be expected to answer right away. Gilbert, however, clearly had no intention of silencing her in that particular way, and instead chose to brush said fingers over the corner of her lips, over the flushed, pinky cheeks, over the fine line of his beloved girl's jaw. Anne could not help but let out a sigh at this; her eyelids fluttering shut for the shortest of moments, only to open up again at the sound of the most quiet, yet certainly very satisfied hum on his part.
Once again she met his eye, recognising the old look of self-assurance she had once thought had been lost for good.
"You know, Gilbert, judging from your expression alone, I think you are enjoying this far too much," she pointed out softly, although the teasing twinkle of her eye was unmistakable.
Gilbert's smile turned roguish in response to her words and he leaned in towards her again, his lips hovering over hers in a proximity that had only occurred between them once before. His own eyes were sparkling with mischief, and suddenly, Anne could not call the sight anything but endearing.
He was endearing.
"Oh, but I think I've earned it."
Almost despite herself, she pulled away from him a little, her face falling at the renewed remembrance of the past longing and hurt. Gilbert noted the change in an instant and cupped her cheek with the same hand that had already been holding her waist, ready to stop her on the dangerous path he knew she'd been about to step on. And yet, before he even managed to open his mouth to speak about it, Anne changed her tactics abruptly and threw her arms around his neck, clinging onto him in a tight embrace he had no reason to expect two seconds earlier.
With her face buried in the crook of his neck and her soft hair tickling his ear, she said the only thing that came to her suddenly troubled mind.
"Oh, Gil, I do love you so!"
This she knew how to do. To show the true depths of her affection, not by words as much as it was by action; by this simple yet most meaningful gesture, one that she had not yet had the chance to make towards him, even though she had practised it so many times on those she loved. All of her feelings seemed to be locked in her clasp, radiating onto him even when he could not tell what she was saying by it.
It was an embrace of a daughter, a sister, a friend – now to become one of a woman betrothed, ready to give all of the love she had stored in her soul and to discover the new seams of it with the man she had chosen to do it with.
As positively surprised as Gilbert was by this sudden display, however, it was not it that caught his attention this time. After just a few moments he pulled away, just like Anne had done before; his eyes round with awe and elation that had overcome him so completely. An enormous grin blossomed on his face as he looked into those green-grey irises of which he had dreamt for so many years now, a grin that only widened when she looked at him, surprised, only to shift her gaze down at his own collar, blushing.
"It's the first time you've said it," he whispered, trembling with excitement he didn't even try do hide, while Anne gazed back at him, her own eyes widening as she comprehended his words. He leaned in again, resting his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, never ceasing to smile. "Can you please say it again?"
Before Anne managed to stammer anything out, Gilbert decided to surprise her even further, loosening his tight grip on her delicate frame and crouching suddenly before her. She could feel his arms wrap around her knees a moment later, and before she knew it, she was in the air, spun around to the sound of a most jubilant laughter, too shocked to even determine if the cry she'd heard in response really was her own reaction to it.
The sudden shriek only made Gilbert laugh more, and even when he eventually stopped spinning, the smile on his countenance was as sly and satisfied as it was loving. The feel of Anne's fingers buried into his shoulders thrilled him infinitely, and he could not willingly bring this moment to an end.
"Say it again," he repeated emphatically, rejoicing at this new closeness he could finally share with her. "Please, Anne."
"Gilbert Blythe, put me down!" was all she cared to say in response.
"I won't," he responded evenly, tightening his grip so she could at least feel a little more secure. "It's the day when my dreams come true; and since having you in my arms like this definitely is one of them, I'm going to keep it that way for as long as I can."
Anne found that she could hardly answer him with anything more than another flush of her cheeks. A smile returned to her own face as she gazed at the man who had so unexpectedly turned out to be so dear, and only the memories of their old days and shared mischief stopped her from bending down and kissing him fiercely without further delay.
"And what about my dreams?" she asked playfully instead, her hand slipping to the back of his neck and stroking his hair gently. "Are they of any meaning today?"
"Of course they are, silly. And I promise you we'll take care of them as soon as you're back on the ground safely."
It was Anne's turn to laugh at him then; with a little hesitation she moved her hands again, trusting Gilbert to hold her securely while she cupped his face between her slender fingers and brushed her thumbs against his cheeks. For long moments did they gaze at one another, so much that Anne began to wonder just how long exactly her fiancé could stay in this position unchanged.
Realising that she was by no mean willing to find out, she spoke to him at last.
"Well, I do fear that my dreams are scandalously similar to yours now, Mr Blythe," she admitted sweetly, well aware of – although still slightly surprised by – the effect her words were having on him. "And even though I have not spent a decade wanting to say those words to you, there was little else I wanted to do these past few weeks – and they did feel like years to me."
She saw his look darken as she bent down to whisper, "I do love you, Gil. I love you so much it hurts me, and it scares me and it absolutely thrills me – and to know that you still care for me too is the greatest and most undeserved gift that has ever been given to me."
She closed the distance between them then, knowing he would use the opportunity to oppose her had he only been given one, and not at all wanting to engage in such conversation right now. So she kissed him, sweetly and lingeringly, taking her time to learn her own way through this new, exciting field and trusting Gilbert to appreciate her endeavours rather than mock her for her inexperience in it. As she had hoped, his response was as eager as her try; his grip on her legs tightening once again as his lips caressed hers, his head raised up in a desperate urge not to risk parting with her ever again.
At some point Gilbert's claps loosened and he placed her down on her feet again, although Anne could not for the life of her determine when exactly that particular change of setting occurred. But that her arms slid around his neck instantly, instinctively, was a fact – that he deepened his kiss with the same haste was a fact, too.
So I’ve been struggling to write today. I did a little and I probably will attempt more, but it just doesn’t sound like that much fun.
So here’s a thought: what if I made a little writing stream for you? I know it’s not the most traditional thing to do, with streams being connected with drawing/editing rather than writing, but... why not?
Would you, Kindred Spirits, be willing to support your friend in this unconventional way today?
A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?
B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?
C: What character do you identify with most?
D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?
E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?
F: Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic?
G: Care to share a favorite crack fic?
H: How would you describe your style?
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].
K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?
L: What’s the weirdest AU you’ve ever come up with?
M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?
N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?
O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?
P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)
Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?
T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?
U: A pairing you might like to write for, but haven’t tried yet.
V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?
W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?
X: A character you enjoy making suffer.
Y: A character you want to protect.
Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?
“I can’t do this, Gil. I can’t open this door. What it it’s too late? What if we came all this way only to find it was all for naught, because she… she…“ A story in which Gilbert’s health remains perfectly fine, but that’s not enough to bring Anne peace. Alternate ending to AotI. Shirbert.
fanfiction.net / AO3
Chapter 3
Two Kindred Spirits and a journey of four steps
In the years to come Anne’s thoughts often wandered back to that fateful afternoon, playing with the question of who had proven to be more unrelenting on that particular time of misery and hurt, never quite able to give a certain answer to her query.
Was she the one in the lead, with her astonishment and disbelief that had naturally followed Gilbert’s sudden offer and then the protest that had derived directly from them in turn? Or had the palm of victory been his, as he had so obviously ignored both, standing resolutely by his proposition, deaf to the reasoning she had so desperately thrown at him back then?
She had always known him to be stubborn, and to a degree that could only be rivalled by herself; so how could she be surprised to see him act like this that day?
“For the last time, Anne, this isn’t about either of us being comfortable or not,” he had told her then, depriving her of her last argument. “I can easily imagine that you’d rather go back with Stella or Priss, but you know that it won’t work this time and I know that you’re not going to delay your return only because my company is less pleasant than theirs.”
She had protested to that, too, telling him frankly that this particular aspect of their journey had been the least of her concerns, but accepted his general plan eventually.
It was agreed upon that Gilbert should come to Patty’s Place shortly before eight the following morning and that they should set off to the Kingsport train station together from there. Again, Anne wanted to oppose – this time, however, she would have had to battle all four of her friends, who undoubtedly would emphasise the advantage of such solution most resolutely – and she was certain that at this point she could not successfully battle one.
She agreed and then she excused herself when only she thought it appropriate, explaining that she should pack before it got dark and that more than anything, she needed a proper rest before her trip. She found Gilbert’s eyes and, unable to think of words that could express the enormous gratitude she felt, she gave him one, lasting gaze, praying to the Heavens that he could understand the message it was supposed to carry.
He did; he answered it with the weakest of smiles and a silent promise that he would be there for her, for as long as she needed him to.
And now here she was, dressed up in her old grey travelling dress, standing by the gate of her second home, waiting. The morning was bright, the sun shining down on her, its beams warm and gentle against her pale, freckled skin. It was a fine morn, a beautiful morn; and yet, for the first time in her life, Anne could not feel appreciate it at all.
She noticed Gilbert come down the street with a small satchel and immediately felt guilty as she thought of her own suitcase, so much heavier than the little bag he was carrying with him. She knew he would take her ridiculously big luggage as soon as he arrived at the gate and that she could never find a way to talk him out of it.
She sighed with exasperation. Sometimes she wished that Gilbert Blythe hadn’t been such a consummate gentleman all the time.
As she mused over the matter, the young man in question reached his destination, having come to a stop right in front of her. He offered her a smile and pushed the gate open.
“You are up early,” he said in lieu of a greeting, his voice void of astonishment. “I am fairly sure we weren’t supposed to meet for another quarter at least.”
“Well, in that case we are equally ill-bred,” Anne retorted readily; it was disconcerting to think how easy it was to fall into this kind of banter with him, so many months apart and at the time so unfavourable as this, yet at this point, she was far too tired to worry about that, too.
Gilbert chuckled lightly. “I must ask you not to repeat this to my mother, Miss Shirley. She pales at the very thought of me behaving inappropriately, she might end up with a heart attack if she ever heard that I did.”
“As long as you don’t betray me before Marilla,” Anne answered in the same blithe tone, before realising to whose judgement she had just referred. She looked away, abashed. “I’m sorry, Gilbert. I’m afraid I’m not going to be the most amusing companion today.”
“I never expected you to be,” he assured her candidly as he stepped closer and bent to take hold of her suitcase. “This is a terribly small baggage, Anne. Are you sure you’ve got everything you need?”
Anne smiled at him sheepishly. “I was afraid I had taken too much, actually, seeing how all you’ve got is a satchel.”
“Well, seeing how I don’t need to worry about petticoats and corsets, it’s quite natural that my baggage is smaller – I should be worried if that wasn’t the case.” He finally straightened up to his full heights and looked squarely at her. “So, is that really all? Are you ready to go now?”
Anne nodded in confirmation and after giving the little cottage one last wistful glance, she finally left the dear place behind.
As they strolled up the street in silence, Anne was once again reminded that even though she herself made a terrible travelling companion, Gilbert did not. He didn’t bore her with unnecessary talk, mindful of her worries that must take precedence over whatever he might have wanted to discuss… and making sure she could still sense his supportive presence at the same time. One minute it was a glance meant solely for her to see; in another it was a word, a thought voiced for no other reason than to rouse her from her musing when he saw it was growing too morbid to do her any good.
Beside that blissful day of Diana’s wedding, it was the first time in over two years when he was not a stranger, passed on the street with nothing more than a courteous nod, nor the one that would pass her in such manner. She didn’t dare to call him her friend, even if his readiness to help her seemed to prove that her that he still considered himself one – but she realised with joy that he had remained the same Kindred Spirit she had recognised in he so many years ago.
The one to whom she had already owned so much.
Her thoughts wondered towards Phil and the conversation the two girls had had shortly after Gilbert had left their little home last night. Anne hadn’t been surprised by the impression he had made on her friends; they had always considered it their duty to bring up his many virtues, especially when Anne herself was there to listen, as if she hadn’t been aware of them for a much longer time. Yet, there was something about what Phil had said that night that had stuck in her memory particularly.
“I hope you’ll thank him properly tomorrow, Queen Anne,” she’d scolded her then. “Just because Gilbert would walk around the globe and back for you doesn’t mean he does not deserve to have his work acknowledged.”
Then, she had only smiled at her friend, too weary to say that if there was anyone for whom Gilbert might want to walk the Earth, it was Christine Stewart, not her – now, as they walked together she realised just how unfair her judgement had been.
Gilbert Blythe would have walked the globe and back for anyone who needed him to – and then he’d refuse to receive as much as a ‘thank you’ for doing it.
Anne felt a sudden pang of uneasiness when she thought he might have missed the thankfulness that seemed so obvious to her. He had appeared to understand her quiet messaged the previous eve – and yet, how could she be sure?
I suppose there is only one way to find out, she thought gravely to herself, and out loud she asked, “Gilbert?”
He responded with a hum and a curious glare in her direction but said nothing more. Anne drew in a deep breath.
“You know how grateful I am for this, don’t you?” she inquired eventually in a hushed voice.
Gilbert’s eyebrows rose as soon as she’d uttered the question.
“Anne, you have nothing to be grateful for,” he opposed gently.
“You know that’s not true!” she contradicted him in a much firmer manner, looking away and gritting her teeth. “I know you weren’t planning to go back for another week – more than that, if the rumours about the Cooper Prize winner’s obligations hold any truth to them. And still, you disregarded all that to help a girl to whom you had hardly even spoken for the previous two years and who had treated it you in the same, if not worse, way. I am thankful, Gil; you can’t even imagine how much. And it hurts me to think that I can never repay you for doing all this so please, at least let me thank you.”
“If that’s what you need,” he answered somewhat absently, after a pause so long that Anne had begun to believe that he would make no answer at all. But then he turned towards her again and with all of his usual zest, he continued, “But Anne, I really don’t want you to think of it in this way, in terms of some heroic deed I have made for your sake. I saw a person in need and I did the only thing I could think of. It wasn’t heroic; it was decent, that’s all.”
“Oh, but that only makes it worse!” Anne bristled at his response, throwing her arms in the air with despair and thus missing the smile that appeared on Gilbert’s face at the sight she gave. “Really, Gilbert – couldn’t you, just for once, put your own needs before someone else’s? Especially when it’s about someone you shouldn’t care about in the first place?”
“I can think of more than a few times when I put my need before yours, Carrots,” he answered patiently. “And it never resulted in anything good; same goes for my relations with other people. And as for those whom I choose to help – why can’t you just assume that what I’m doing right now is simply about aiding a friend, so the most natural thing in the world?”
Anne sighed a little too wistfully for her own liking. “Would you still call me that?”
Gilbert’s face grew serious in an instant, as he looked at her and responded to her enquiry in a most solemn tone. “Forgive me Anne, I thought I had made myself clear on that matter. I was obviously talking about Marilla here.”
Too such a statement Anne could not remain indifferent. At first, she was too surprised to do much more than blink in shock; a piercing, somewhat pained glare followed as she brought herself to look at her companion after another while. Her grey eyes searched his in hope of an answer as she knew she could not trust her lips to speak; but for all this time, Gilbert’s countenance remained unchanged,
And then he broke into a grin, the widest and most sincere she had seen him wear in months. Her eyes widened in astonishment – Gilbert’s smile turned into the softest of chuckles.
Once again, Anne Shirley found herself at loss for words.
And how was it that it was almost always him to make her feel so?
“I’m so sorry, Anne, but I simply couldn’t pass a chance like this,” he apologised immediately, even though his voice was rather lacking of the remorse he was supposed to feel. “And of course I still consider you my friend; I know we haven’t been on the best terms lately – I still haven’t quite forgiven you for that dance at the Convocation, mind you – but it doesn’t mean you can no longer count on me. Besides, were the roles reversed, I’m sure you would do just the same. And you wouldn’t want my gratitude, either.”
Anne blushed slightly at his statement.
“I wish I could be this sure,” she said hesitantly. “Not to mention, I can hardly imagine you needing my escort back home at any point.”
“True, but what if my mother fell ill and I for some reason could not go to her? Wouldn’t you look after her for me?”
“Of course I would! That is…” she faltered again. “I would, if you both wanted me to. I don’t believe Mrs Blythe would welcome me as her nurse.”
“My mother adores you, Anne,” Gilbert said seriously. “And she has always cared for you deeply, I know she has – I guess she just can’t help caring about her son more. And… she doesn’t know, doesn’t understand everything… no one does. But if she has ever said anything that hurt you -”
“She has said nothing that I didn’t deserve,” Anne interrupted him with the same determination ringing in her voice. “Although the truth is, she hasn’t spoken to me much lately – but again, I cannot blame her for it. And it’s not even close to what I had in mind.”
Gilbert glanced at her questioningly. “What is, then?”
“The fact that I’m not sure I would be brave enough to offer you my help. I would give it to you if you asked – but I can’t promise I’d be bold enough to suggest it myself.”
“Well, then I suppose it’s Providence work that it is you needing my assistance, seeing that I am as bold as ever,” came Gilbert’s even answer, to which Anne could not respond with anything more than a nod, before she looked away to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes at his comment. Gilbert scolded himself quietly for his tactlessness and almost as if lead by the same Providence he had mentioned before, he reached out for Anne’s hand and squeezed it gently. “She will be alright. I know she will and more importantly, I think you know it, too.”
He let go of her hand as quickly as he had taken it and for a moment Anne wondered whether he had made the gesture at all – or whether it was a trick of her mind, another daydream summoned in order to ease her pain as it had been so many times before. She shook her head discontentedly.
Gilbert was very much real; his kindness was real, too. She had no reason to doubt either.
“I really don’t know what I’ll do if she isn’t,” she admitted at last, her voice barely a cracked whisper despite the best of her attempts. “I tried to imagine it once or twice, but Gil, I just can’t.”
“And I don’t think that you should,” he opposed again. “I mean it, Anne. It won’t change the situation in any way and it certainly will not help you get through it. If anything, it will tire you even more; and what’s the point in you coming to Green Gables in such state? If you want to nurse Marilla back to health, you’ll need every ounce of strength you can muster, so I suggest you don’t waste it on pondering over things that are not going to happen. Not to mention, Mrs Lynde will never let you anywhere near Marilla’s bed unless she’s convinced that you came back from Redmond with your own condition unscathed.”
“I know all that!” Anne cried out impatiently. “But I can’t just stop worrying, either. Oh, this is such a vicious cycle!”
“My own experience tells me that in such cases it’s usually the best idea to forget of both parts and focus on something else entirely; preferably the matter at hand. Now that would be to get you safely to Green Gables, as soon as possible. What do you say that we focus on that first and worry about the rest later on?”
Anne nodded in agreement and picked up her pace as they neared the Kingsport station. The rest of this part of their journey passed in an almost perfect silence, with neither of them feeling the need to sustain the conversation, nor bumping into friends who might try to strike up a new one; even though it did seem for a moment that they had seen Charlie Sloane’s hat flicker between the others.
“Don’t worry about this one,” was all Gilbert had to say on the matter. “There I no way in this world that Charlie would be up so early in the day.”
Their time on the train was equally, if not more, quiet, with Anne gazing through the window, restlessly awaiting the sight of the harbour from which their ferry took off – and Gilbert watching her, steadily, insistently, stubbornly even, wanting to guard her when she was too disturbed to do it for herself.
When they finally reached their destination, Anne as good as jumped from the train, leaving a slightly dazed – although by no means surprised – Gilbert to hurry after her. Almost blind with her agitation, she missed a step on her way from the platform and would have fallen flatly had Gilbert not managed to catch up with her just in time to prevent that from happening.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered with embarrassment, her eyes strangely driven to his fingers, that for some reason were still squeezing her elbow, even after so many moment’s she had taken to easy her breathing. “I probably shouldn’t have rushed like this. I’m a little too giddy for it right now.”
“You are tired, first and foremost,” Gilbert contradicted her gently. “Be honest with me: when you excused yourself yesterday, did you really go to sleep as you said you would?”
Anne flushed at his question, although she couldn’t quite point out the reason why; it must have been the morning heat finally getting to her.
“Well, I did try to,” she admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “Of course, I had to pack first, but since I only needed a few most necessary things, that didn’t take too much of my time. I still managed to get to bed at a ridiculously early hour – the problem was, getting to bed and getting to sleep can be two very different stories.”
“Don’t I know it,” Gilbert said with a small, lopsided and slightly pensive smile.
“I thought I was exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as I touched the pillow, but apparently, it was my misery that took hold of me that night. I tried to fight it – tried to think of some trifles and nonsense… but it wouldn’t do. So I got up and dressed and went out to the orchard, hoping some exercise and fresh air would help – unfortunately, all in vain.”
“I’m sorry to know that, although I can’t pretend I don’t understand. I had my share of sleepless nights, back in Alberta… And more than a few after we came back. It can be difficult to get your own body to cooperate under this kind of stress.” He paused for a moment, thoughtful. “Still, you might like to try to talk yours into resting now. It will be a few hours before the ferry reaches Charlottetown, so unless you have some great reasons against dazing off a little under my watchful eye, you should try to do just that.”
As she had done many times during the past two days, Anne opposed to the idea presented to her, proudly announcing that she could easily manage herself after one sleepless night and that she would not risk her reputation by taking a nap in a distinctly public place. Mrs Lynde would think she had gone mad no doubt; and in all of his gallantry, Gilbert had to quite literally bite his tongue to stop himself from asking his companion when on Earth had Mrs Lynde’s preaching about propriety ever stopped her from doing anything she wanted to do. Anne’s stubbornness only lasted until she reached her seat, however; as soon as she did, she sank into it, her eyelids suddenly heavier than they seemed to have been for a really long while. She fought it for a time; but her body was too tired and her mind far too troubled for that fight to be a long one.
It was the first time in her young life when she would not watch for the shoreline from the upper deck.
All through their journey, Gilbert stayed by her side, looking after his dear friend, making sure she would not wake to the horror of having drooled in her sleep as well as that no one would disturb the precious rest she was finally getting. And if at some point Anne’s head fell lower, successfully though accidentally resting on his shoulder, it was a detail he was not going to share with anyone – including her.
They reached Charlottetown; they changed their means of transportation and reached Carmody next. The trip had gone smoothly until now… Now, when, being just a step away from home, they realised that this final stage of their adventure was to be perhaps more challenging than the other three together.
“There is no carriage,” Gilbert announced grimly after returning from the stables back to Anne. “Nothing they can lend us until morning at best. I was hoping my parents would be here – I wired last evening, but I suppose it was not enough time for the word to get to them. I’m sorry, Anne, but I’m afraid we’ll have to stay for the night.”
“I can walk,” she protested at once, not for a second considering delaying her arrival for a trifle of this unimportance. “I have walked this distance more than a few times now and not always during the day. I understand if you’re tired – we can leave my suitcase in the inn for tonight and I’ll have Davy pick it up tomorrow, or you may stay here yourself and I promise I won’t think ill of it. But I am getting to Green Gables tonight.”
“Alright, now you’re just plain ridiculous,” Gilbert answered her tirade immediately, letting out a sound that came dangerously close to snorting. Anne’s eyes widened in astonishment at his highly improper comment, and she opened her mouth to tell him plainly what she thought of it when he cut her off with a simple yet resolute, “I have not come all this way here to let you wander off alone when you’re most tired. You’re not going to Green Gables on your own; but I certainly won’t slow you down by persisting on staying here.”
Surprised as she was – and a little ashamed of her clearly incorrect assumption as well – Anne nodded with understanding and gratitude and set off towards her dear old home. Rested after her nap on the ferry and fuelled by the proximity of her final aim, she had no reason to slow down her pace. It was as feverish as her tangled, dizzying thoughts; so much that Gilbert, who had at last begun to feel the exhaustion of the previous few months – and his own lack of sleep on the preceding night, which he had so conveniently forgotten to mention – found himself struggling to keep up with her.
They were both relieved to see the contour of Green Gables homestead looming in the distance before them.
When they finally reached the porch and stopped before the door, Gilbert felt fairly certain that Anne would run straight through it, forgetting his silent presence altogether as she darted past the kitchen and upstairs to greet her weakened guardian. Anne, however, did no such thing; she froze in her place, instead, raising her hand to knock and then lowering it again in an instant.
Her skin was pale and her eyes were glistening when she turned her head towards him. “I can’t do this, Gil.”
Gilbert raised his eyebrows, but she gave him not time to answer to her words in any other way.
“I can’t do this,” she repeated at once, gazing at him expectantly, vulnerable and afraid, as if she’d been trying to search for help she did not think she could find. “I can’t open this door. What if it’s too late? What if we came all this way only yo find it was all for naught, because she… she… Gilbert, I can’t open this door and hear that Marilla is -”
“She is going to be fine,” he interrupted her fiercely. “Marilla is strong, and she is stubborn and she would never leave before seeing you, pneumonia or not. And now that you’re here, you can nurse her yourself and then she’ll truly have no choice but to recover.”
He took a step forwards and for the second time in one day – and for the third in two – he took her hand in his, caressing her fingers with all the care and gentleness he had in him, before he leaned towards her and whispered, “I’ve never believed in nursing fake hope but I can’t let you lose yours just yet, either. And Anne, I know you are scared and hurt and unsure. But whatever news awaits you behind this door, the best you can do is try and face it now. And you are not facing it alone.”
Somehow, Anne found herself believing him. She nodded in agreement and gave his hand her own little squeeze.
And then she straightened up, took a deep breath and… she knocked.
##anne of green gables#aogg#anne of the island#aoti#anne shirley#gilbert blythe#marilla cuthbert#shirbert#alternative ending#books versed#friendship#romance#family#hurt/comfort
“I can’t do this, Gil. I can’t open this door. What it it’s too late? What if we came all this way only to find it was all for naught, because she… she…“ A story in which Gilbert’s health remains perfectly fine, but that’s not enough to bring Anne peace. Alternate ending to AotI. Shirbert.
fanfiction.net / AO3
Chapter 2
Enters Gilbert
The smile died on her lips as soon as she had read the first lines.
“Dearest Anne…”
It could not be true.
“I wish I could start this letter from a reassurance…”
It could not.
“I wish I could say: don’t be alarmed by the unusual date of its arrival – for I very much hope you have received it early – or by the hurry behind such a change. Alas, I cannot. The news is as urgent as it is serious, so even though there is no reason to panic just yet, I must ask you to regard the matter as such.”
“Anne, are you alright?” she heard Priscilla ask with concern but made no answer, her eyes gliding over the letter as she devoured the words she did not dare to comprehend. Priscilla stepped closer. “Anne, you’re white as chalk and barely breathing at all! What is it, darling?”
The red-haired girl glanced up at her friend and opened her mouth in the vain attempt to explain her state, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. The lump in her throat was enough to make her success unlikely – with the trembling of her lips and the tears fogging her eyes, it became impossible.
“I’ll get some water,” Phil announced evenly and left the room, while Stella crossed it and sat quietly by Anne’s side. Priscilla remained where she was, watching the scene attentively.
Anne drew a sharp breath.
“It’s Marilla,” she said eventually, when she finally felt she could say anything at all – if only to feel her voice crack as soon as she did. She shook her head. “She’s unwell. Very, very, very unwell.”
She failed to explain anything more as the sobbing she had been trying to fight had finally taken over her. Her shoulders shook violently and a few heavy drops fell down her cheeks, disappearing under the fingers she pressed against her mouth. One or two of her tears came through and fell on the letter she was holding – and the realisation of that little detail only made her want to cry more.
“I can’t do this, Gil. I can’t open this door. What it it’s too late? What if we came all this way only to find it was all for naught, because she… she…“ A story in which Gilbert’s health remains perfectly fine, but that’s not enough to bring Anne peace. Alternate ending to AotI. Shirbert.
fanfiction.net / AO3
Chapter 2
Enters Gilbert
The smile died on her lips as soon as she had read the first lines.
“Dearest Anne...”
It could not be true.
“I wish I could start this letter from a reassurance...”
It could not.
“I wish I could say: don’t be alarmed by the unusual date of its arrival – for I very much hope you have received it early – or by the hurry behind such a change. Alas, I cannot. The news is as urgent as it is serious, so even though there is no reason to panic just yet, I must ask you to regard the matter as such.”
“Anne, are you alright?” she heard Priscilla ask with concern but made no answer, her eyes gliding over the letter as she devoured the words she did not dare to comprehend. Priscilla stepped closer. “Anne, you’re white as chalk and barely breathing at all! What is it, darling?”
The red-haired girl glanced up at her friend and opened her mouth in the vain attempt to explain her state, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. The lump in her throat was enough to make her success unlikely – with the trembling of her lips and the tears fogging her eyes, it became impossible.
“I’ll get some water,” Phil announced evenly and left the room, while Stella crossed it and sat quietly by Anne’s side. Priscilla remained where she was, watching the scene attentively.
Anne drew a sharp breath.
“It’s Marilla,” she said eventually, when she finally felt she could say anything at all – if only to feel her voice crack as soon as she did. She shook her head. “She’s unwell. Very, very, very unwell.”
She failed to explain anything more as the sobbing she had been trying to fight had finally taken over her. Her shoulders shook violently and a few heavy drops fell down her cheeks, disappearing under the fingers she pressed against her mouth. One or two of her tears came through and fell on the letter she was holding – and the realisation of that little detail only made her want to cry more.
Never in her life had she cried so vehemently.
“Anne, dearest!” Stella exclaimed and embraced her friend tightly, the gesture more meaningful than anything she could say. Anne appreciated it too, and yet, she couldn’t help but edge away as soon as she had found the strength to do it.
“Mrs Lynde says it looked like nothing but a cold at first,” she stammered in between her sobs. “Of course, for someone Marilla’s age even a cold can be dangerous, especially if they refuse to rest properly – but Mrs Rachel clearly said that it was the one time when she managed to persuade Marilla to take a real break before it escalates! Oh, that itself should have been a sign enough!”
She covered her mouth with her hand once more, closing her eyes as she pondered over the threat that had so unexpectedly entered her life. Phil, who had walked into the room seconds earlier, gave her miserable friend a scrutinising glare.
“I know that look, Queen Anne,” she said as she took her place on the other side of the sofa; she handed Anne the glass she had brought with her, but Anne disregarded the offer with another shake of her head. Phil, however, was not one to give up easily. “You think that if you had been there, you would have paid attention to that ‘sign’ as you call it and saved Marilla from the complications. You wouldn’t have.”
“How can you know that?”
“If Rachel Lynde failed to notice the danger, you would have done the same. I might not have met her in person, but everything you’ve told me so far only proves that she is not a woman who would miss anything easily.”
“But she doesn’t know Marilla as I do!” Anne protested again, even more fiercely now.
“Are you really so sure about that? I’m not saying that there aren’t some ways in which you really do understand her better, but you’re doing Mrs Lynde injustice. You have known Marilla for barely a decade, while she has for her entire, much longer life. She raised ten children who, I am sure, fell ill at all ages; and she had had an elderly husband to look after until very recently. You couldn’t wish for a better nurse for your guardian.”
Anne lowered her gaze at the letter once more and closed her eyes right after.
“I still should have been there for her,” she whispered somewhat calmed, even though she had never stopped trembling. “Maybe if I had been there to look after her, it wouldn’t have gone so far and the danger wouldn’t be so great!”
“How great is it now?” asked Priss.
“Pneumonia,” Anne answered before giving in to her weeping again, too weak to control it for longer than those few short moments. Phil reached out and stroke her hair, and this time Anne felt too tired to protest against it in any way at all.
All she could do was sit where she was, with her face hidden in her hands and shivers running through her young, exhausted body.
“Pneumonia is not a death sentence, Anne,” Priscilla remarked eventually, finally sitting herself on a nearby chair. “It’s dangerous, of course – but Mrs Lynde is right about there being no need to panic. We both know she would have told you straight away if there was. And my own mother went through pneumonia last year, and you know that she’s as strong as ever now!”
“Oh, don’t tell me about your mother!” Anne cried out, jerking her head up, her eyes green with anger and despair. “She has nothing to do with it – you can’t compare her to Marilla! And you cannot compare the situations, either!”
“Anne, for goodness’ sake, calm down!” Phil answered the outburst immediately and caught her companion’s arm, hoping to at least prevent her from jumping to her feet then and there and perhaps leaving the room right after. Anne freed herself from the clasp easily, however, and stood up regardless of Phil’s tries.
“Don’t talk to me about staying calm, Phil,” she said hollowly. “You can’t imagine what I am feeling right now. You can’t know what it is like to have someone like Marilla – sick… It’s not like seeing your mother fall ill, because that’s not what Marilla is to me. She is the one who chose to love me and take care of me, against her plans and her neighbours’ advice, against her own doubts, against her better judgment. And she’s not your mother’s age, Priscilla; she’s older and she’s weaker, no matter how much she tries to ignore it sometimes. I will not calm down.”
“You won’t help her in such state,” Stella attempted to reason; but Anne would not be moved.
“I won’t help her no matter what state I’m in,” she opposed a little more meekly, sinking on the sofa again. “No, my dears, as long as I am here, there is nothing I can do. So please, just for now, let me be miserable. It’s one of the few moment of my life when I truly have a reason to be.”
She remained silent for the shortest of moments before rising again, startling her friends with her abrupt movement. “Oh, but I can’t! I can’t sit here, pitying myself when she is so sick and certainly in need of attention. Mrs Lynde might be there but she can’t look after her and the twins alone. I must leave Kingsport as soon as possible and go back to Green Gables, somehow… Oh, but I need to clear my head first!”
And before anyone could stop her, she sprang from her place and ran towards the door, paying no mind to her friends’ astonishment, nor or her own tears that now flowed down her cheeks freely. She still held the fateful letter in a tight grasp – and she was not going to put it away any time soon.
Thus agitated, she did not hear the gentle knocking on the door, nor the quiet creak it gave when the person on the other side pushed it open – nor did she have the time to react when the person appeared right before her eyes.
She ran straight into his chest and barely comprehended that she had at all.
“Goodness me, Anne, that sure is a way to welcome a fellow,” she heard him ask with the smallest hint of humour and realised with shock it was Gilbert she had run into. She took a step back at once and looked up, barely able tot recognise his features through the mist of her tears.
She swallowed and sniffed, and wiped some of them away.
“I’m sorry, Gilbert, I didn’t notice you,” she apologised quickly, her eyes fleeing to the door behind his back. “But please, excuse me. I need some fresh air, immediately.”
Gilbert’s eyes grew wide in surprised, the mirth in his eyes replaced with worry as he took in her appearance.
“What is it, Anne?” he asked again, his voice so full of fear that Anne could not help but glance at him again; and yet, she knew she needed to leave before she did something incredibly silly, like throwing herself onto him, if only because he was the only person in the world who had any idea how much Marilla meant to her.
So she shook her head, again, and waved a hand at him, hoping against hope that it would be enough to make him let her through.
Of course, she was a fool to ever believe that.
“Anne, please, look at me,” he urged her, but she didn’t listen to him. Gilbert sighed deeply and put his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her at least. “Listen, I know I have no right to make inquiries, and I’m not going to make any. But you’re clearly not fit for going anywhere alone.”
“It’s home, Gil,” she whispered, not sure what she was saying, and certainly not capable of realising it was the first time in months since she had last called him by this name. “Home, Green Gables… it’s… Marilla...”
She did something silly then, namely the one thing she had promised herself not to do; but she was too unhappy to care about anything other than her most pressing worries – and in a way, Gilbert was holding her already.
She collapsed into his arms without giving the matter a second thought.
To say that Gilbert was surprised would be like calling the storm a drizzle. He blinked, astonished by her sudden closeness, but did not pull away, as Anne half expected he would. He noticed Phil coming from the other room and hesitated, simultaneously giving the girl a questioning look, to which he received no clear answer.
“Anne, whatever it is, I promise we’ll get you through it,” he muttered into her ear as he finally embraced her trembling form, holding her closer than ever before and yet, unable to draw the slightest satisfaction from the feeling it gave.
He could never be content when she was hurting like this.
“You need to sit down,” he went on, ignoring the sudden wince she gave at his words. “You don’t have to say anything, but I won’t let you out of Patty’s Place until I see you can stand firmly on your own. Come on, Anne, listen to me. For old times’ sake.”
He pulled away then and gave her a small smile, which Anne could not return. She wanted to protest, but Gilbert granted her no time, stirring her gently towards the parlour, ignoring the curious glances the rest of the girls gave them.
Anne walked quietly, with her eyes fixed on the floor before her, too distraught to notice anything at all.
Consciously or nor, Gilbert made her sit on the exact same spot she had occupied before and took his place next to her. The glass Phil had brought was now standing on the tea table; he wasted no time reaching for it and offering it to her.
Anne glared at him grudgingly. “I don’t want to drink, Gilbert.”
“I still think you should,” he insisted with the same gentleness that had marked his actions from the start. “Believe it or not, but clear water can do wonders. It will make you feel better, too. Come, for -”
“Don’t you finish it,” she interrupted him, taking the glass from his clasp. “You’re making it sound as if I had listened to you before.”
Gilbert wisely refrained from any remark that could come to his mind and simply nodded in acknowledgement, watching her sip the drink in perfect silence.
He took the glass away the moment she had finished.
“Thank you,” she responded to his action with sudden shyness, as if the cure he had prescribed her had made her calm down enough for her to realise the impropriety of the situation. Determined not to meet his eye again, she fixed her own on the letter which had caused her distress in the first place – and shivered as yet another wave of hopelessness washed over her at the memory of its contents.
“I’m guessing this is a Green Gables letter,” Gilbert stated rather than asked, nodding towards the creased, damped paper.
Anne confirmed with a nod of her own.
“May I?”
His words took her aback entirely and once again, she was too surprised not to look at him in response. Her eyes soon shifted from his face to his extended hand and she frowned as she tried to comprehend what the gesture could mean. He smiled weakly and brushed his fingers against the letter.
Anne’s eyes grew even bigger now.
“You want to read it?” she asked with disbelief.
“Only if you want me to,” Gilbert reassured her hastily. “But I can tell it is the reason of your current state and more importantly, I am quite sure its not something you’d like to recount. So unless Mrs Lynde is telling you secrets I should not know about...”
“It’s all about Marilla,” Anne explained quickly and handed him the letter. If Gilbert was disappointed by the coolness of her answer, he showed no sign of it.
All he did was take the letter and read it as attentively as the situation allowed.
Anne’s gaze lingered over his focused countenance for a few moment befores she once again realised how inappropriate it was to stare at him like this, especially after everything that had happened between them in the course of the two preceding years. No matter how much she wished otherwise, Gilbert was no longer her old school chum – and as this realisation came, she almost regretted showing him the letter in the first place.
It was too late to change her mind, however, and it was something Anne realised as well.
She looked away then, and fixed her eyes on the floor before her; only to look up at Gilbert again when she felt him shift next to her. His attention was still on the letter, and Anne turned her head away, somewhat embarrassed by her own restlessness. She shifted her sight in the search of her girl friends, expecting to be met by their curious glances and maybe a wiggle or two of their eyebrows, directed at their unexpected guest – and found with astonishment that none of them was present in the room any longer. She tensed visibly after the discovery and yet, it only made her wish to appear calmer than she ever was. With no little difficulty, she refrained from casting another glance at Gilbert, resolving to content herself with only observing him in the corner of her eye.
Her hands were clasped tightly on her lap now and unconsciously, Anne began to fidget with her own fingers; and when that wasn’t enough, she did the same with the soft, creamy fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes in pain, no longer knowing on which to bestow them… and opened them again in shock, feeling the pressure of another, stronger hand covering and squeezing her white, trembling ones.
She looked up at Gilbert in bewilderment, only to discover that he was just as focused on her letter as before, frowning over it with obvious concern which, however, had nothing to do with her momentary agitation.
As if sitting in her shared living room, reading her correspondence and holding her hand had been the most natural things for him to do.
“I’m almost done,” he murmured before she’d had a chance to object or hasten him with any other comment. “Try to sit still for a moment and I’ll manage to finish even sooner.”
He let go of her hand then and came back to the letter with doubled attentiveness. Anne flinched a little at the change, trying to ignore the strange longing for the contact that came over her as soon as it had ended – and quietly scolding herself for even stopping to think of such nonsense when so much more was presently at stake.
Fiddlesticks, she thought to herself, recalling the crisp manner in which Marilla had always spoke while making a comment of this sort. Anne felt her lip tremble and bit it, looking away and sighing for what seemed like a hundredth time that day.
She almost made up her mind to leave the sofa and search for her friends when she heard Gilbert move again, folding the letter he apparently had just finished reading. She turned towards him a little hesitantly.
“When did you get this?” he once again beat her to her question, asking his own. His hazel eyes glowed with determination Anne couldn’t yet understand.
She shook her head. “Just before you came. I’m so sorry, Gilbert, I never would have behaved like this – but we had no warning. No one said anything about Marilla being unwell in their last letter, even though she must have been if it’s so serious now – but I didn’t know. And then you came, also by surprise -”
“Anne, it’s alright,” he disrupted he, his voice warm but firm. He made a small movement towards her, as if he had wanted to take her hand in his again but changed his mind at the very last moment. “You don’t have to apologise for showing your emotions, especially when it’s Marilla you’re concerned about. And I certainly don’t want you to think that you should be hiding them from me.”
Anne tried to answer his words with a grateful smile but only managed to grimace at him instead.
“I’m not sure whether I’m happy or vexed that it was you who came,” she admitted quietly, resting her tormented gaze back on her hands.
Gilbert’s jaw tightened at her words. “I’m sorry if you see it as an intrusion. I have never meant it to be.”
“No, Gil, that’s not what I meant!” she protested, amazed that her words could be understood in this way. It was her who almost reached for his hand this time. “Please, believe me. It’s just… No one here really knows Marilla – Priscilla might have met her, but she doesn’t know her… But you do. And as comforting as it is to have someone else from Avonlea with me now, it also makes it all so much more real. And… and it’s terrifying.”
Gilbert relaxed visibly and nodded in understanding before allowing himself a little, crooked smile.
He leaned towards his distressed friend and tilted his head so he could look at her directly. “Should I perhaps get you some other Avonlea inhabitant to assist you? Maybe Charlie Sloan’s presence could bring you some comfort without necessarily reminding you of the reality? He seems to be the most practical young man, but you and I both know how skilled he is at turning every conversation into something quite abstract.”
“I wish all of you just stopped mentioning Charlie today – really, it is rather unnerving.” Anne huffed with some of her usual fire back. “And how can you joke about any of this right now?”
“It seemed like a good way to distract you from all that sobbing,” he answered with a calm, confident smile. “I’m sorry if I appear unfeeling, but you know that I’m not; and I need you to calm down before we move on to anything else.”
“But I don’t want to calm down! I’ve told the girls that and I’m standing by it while talking to you.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to if you want to make any decisions today, and I’m fairly certain that you do.”
Anne’s brow rose high, as if Gilbert had suddenly started speaking Chinese.
“Decisions?” she asked, abashed. “I can’t make any decisions from here and I don’t think I could do anything to -”
“You want to come back, though, don’t you?” he interrupted her chaotic explanation with a hurry. “And if I know you at all, you’ve been thinking about getting there since the moment you first learned about Marilla’s sickness. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not,” she admitted, fighting yet another set of tears coming to cloud her eyes. “I have to go back and as soon as I can, but -”
“But she can’t do it now,” Phil finished the sentence for her as she walked into the room with a tea tray. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, Queen Anne. I wasn’t eavesdropping; I simply thought you two could use some fortification during a talk like this. The point remains, however; Anne is not in a state for travelling and I dare say she won’t be any time soon.”
“I’d be fine, Phil, really,” the other girl opposed weakly and then turned back to Gilbert again. “But I would have to travel alone and as used as I am to it by now, I don’t think it would be wise to do it when I’m in ‘such state’.”
Gilbert shook his head impatiently. “I don’t think you should travel such a long distance alone even in a perfect health, Anne. But I never said that’s what you should do now, either.”
“I can’t ask the girls to come with me, Gil,” Anne explained softly, even though it was apparent how much it hurt her to accept such unfortunate circumstances. “They have their own obligations and responsibilities here at Redmond. Don’t you deny it, Phil,” she added quickly, raising her hand. “I’ve discussed all of these plans with you – I know you can’t afford leaving now. None of you can.”
Silence fell on the room, disturbed with nothing but Anne’s desperate, uneven breathing and the purring of Rusty, who suddenly appeared next to her legs. It didn’t last long, however, as Gilbert soon cleared his throat, straightening up in a confident manner.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” he said candidly, before turning towards the girl he had once pledged his love and life to, and looking into her eyes with perfect honesty, he promptly said, “I will take you there.”
