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Chapter Text

“With how many things are we on the brink of becoming acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries.” - Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

________ 

“Soon it’ll be as if I was never here!” Anne shouted, hot tears starting to spill. Marilla gaped at the poor girl as she made her escape, braids flying in every direction. She thunderered up the stairs, anger propelling her across the room and back. Not even the Snow Queen could settle her heart. She leaned against the doorframe, breathing heavily. 

The past few days had been the worst she’d lived through. The school house had burned down, Diana wouldn’t be joining her at Queens, Matthew was practically erasing her from existence, and worst of all, Gilbert had rejected her. He’d be married soon, to Winifred Rose , the most exquisite, beautiful, put-together girl— no, woman , Anne had ever seen. Then she saw the note. 

The universe must’ve really had it out for her. Never a moment of peace! 

He may have broken her heart, but Anne still reached for the note tenderly. And then she remembered him walking away at the ruins, his confident, “Congratulations,” just that morning. He wanted nothing to do with her! If this was how it was going to be, Anne wanted nothing to do with him. He was a coward!

“Ohh really, Gilbert! You couldn’t even face me!” The note was ripped to shreds before Anne even afforded it a glance. “WORLD! CLASS!” Without a moment’s hesitation, she was flinging the scraps out the window, out of her sight. 

The breeze swept through, sending paper flying in all directions. Anne’s heart pounded heavily. This felt right. She wished she could do the same to the boy behind her fury. 

A lone piece landed on the gable below her, caught in the emerald shingles. Anne could barely make out Gilbert’s careful script. Unless she was dreaming, it said, “With love..”

Anne’s heart dropped, “What if…” No, she was imagining things! Gilbert wouldn’t… 

Leaning further out the window, Anne bent at the waist, fingers tightly wrapped around the sill below her. Did it really say that? 

“With… love!” Anne shrieked. 

Then her fingers lost their hold and Anne was tumbling out the window, screaming as she somersaulted over the roof and landed in a heap on the grass below. Crack . 

“Anne!” Matthew shouted from the field. Was that her ankle that cracked or something else? She sat there dazed, fingers grasped around that small slip of paper. Though there were a million reasons Gilbert would’ve signed a letter like that, in her shock, Anne could only focus on one possibility. He loved her!

Then the world came crashing back down to reality, not for the first time that day. 

He was still marrying Winifred.

Then Matthew was kneeling beside her, Jerry peering down at her. Marilla was shrieking nearby, Anne stunned into silence. 

“Uhhh… I don’t think her ankle’s supposed to look like that,” Jerry said disgustedly. Matthew was propping her up gently against the side of the house, like a ragdoll that’d lost its stuffing. 

“Anne! Anne, say something!” Marilla cried. Anne could only let out a garbled moan in response. Did she really just fall out of her window? 

Matthew stood up, “Right. I’ll head to town for the doctor.” 

Marilla grasped Anne’s hand tightly, “It’ll be alright, dear, just hang tight.” The beginnings of pain was starting to worm its way up Anne’s leg, a sharpness to it that was growing stronger by the second. That crack was echoing in her ears. 

Realization dawned on Marilla and she whipped toward Jerry, who was already following Matthew to the barn. “Jerry! Go get Gilbert Blythe!” she shouted. 

That brought Anne to her senses and she sat up straight, “NO! Not Gilbert!” Anne’s grey eyes filled with desperation, “Marilla, please!”

Marilla sighed, “I’m sorry Anne, but if you don’t want to see the boy then don’t go falling out of windows!” 

The universe really did hate her.  

_______

“Blythe! These apples won’t pick themselves!” Bash shouted, taking every opportunity he could to tease the boy. Gilbert glared him, pulling an apple roughly from the tree. He was especially distracted today, what with all that was going on. 

It felt like a normal day, working on the farm with Bash, but Gilbert’s thoughts were a mess of confusion and wonderings. Winifred’s request of two weeks was coming to a close, and it was becoming harder and harder not to disclose the secret. 

Not to mention he may have impulsively declared his love for Anne this morning. 

She could be reading his note, right now. His mind wandered again, imagining Anne falling to her bed in shock, a delicate hand pressed to her mouth. Then, impulsivity would take hold of her as it did him. She’d dash out of Green Gables, unable to withhold her passion for him any longer. She’d arrive breathless, and Gilbert would kiss her, not needing words to understand her love. 

A likely story.

Gilbert returned to the apples before Bash could catch him daydreaming again. At this point he was as bad as Anne. It was taking everything in him not to run to Green Gables and see her, to know how she truly felt. But he’d promised Winifred, and the note was already breaking that promise, even if it was only meant for Anne.

It was a spur of the moment decision. He felt desperate, writing it. But his heart had convinced him one last time that it was worth a shot. Anne may still love him yet. 

Stop it, Blythe . 

She had made it perfectly clear at the ruins that she didn’t love him. There was no use in breaking his heart all over again. 

“Gilbert!” a deep voice shouted. He turned to see Jerry, the Cuthbert’s farmhand, tearing down the path. “Gilbert! Come quick!” he shouted again. Gilbert dropped his basket, rushing over to him. Jerry stopped, pointing at the direction he came from, “It’s Anne! Her ankle—”
Gilbert didn’t wait for any more information, already taking off towards Green Gables. If Anne was in trouble, he didn’t care where they stood. He had to help her. 

Despite his labored breathing and already having ran all the way there, Jerry kept pace with him as they ran. “What happened?” Gilbert shouted, afraid of the answer. 

Jerry stifled a laugh, “She fell out of a window!”

That… was not the answer he was expecting.

“She what?!” 

Jerry wasn’t even trying to hold back his laughter now, and Gilbert was struck with the thought that he was acting as a brother would. “One minute she was leaning out her bedroom window, and the next she was in the yard! It was hilarious!” Jerry stopped laughing suddenly, back to sincerity, “Her ankle does look very strange, though. Matthew’s gone for the doctor.”

Gilbert nodded, heart pounding. Green Gables was almost in sight when it hit him. 

He’d left his note in Anne’s bedroom. 

Did she really fling herself out a window… over him? It seemed ridiculous, but with Anne… anything was possible.

Why did Anne have to pick the absolute worst time to injure herself? Her rejection was still fresh, a deeper wound than breaking Winifred’s heart ever was. And though Gilbert had been managing the sting of unrequited love for years now, the poison had grown stronger with the clarity of her feelings. Or rather the lack thereof. 

Seeing Anne might shatter him all over again, but he’d do anything for her. Her health and safety was more important, no matter how much it hurt. 

They passed through the gate, Marilla kneeling at the side of the house. 

And there she was, her red hair a bright contrast to her deathly pale skin. True to Jerry’s word, her ankle was twisted at a vicious angle. She looked up at him, shock written clearly across her face. Even though pain had warped her features, Anne was as beautiful as always. 

The ankle, Gilbert, he reminded himself. He dropped to his knees, tenderly grabbing her foot. “Does this hurt?” he asked, gently twisting it side-to-side. 

“Of course it hurts, dingus!” Anne shrieked. 

Marilla swiped at her shoulder, “Manners, Anne.” It was only a half-hearted gesture; Gilbert knew she really didn’t care about etiquette with Anne in pain. 

The words of Dr. Ward and medical textbooks ran through his mind. The foot needed to be elevated, with a splint to set the bone. “We need wood for a splint,” he said. Marilla rose, already rushing away. “Anne, do you think you can walk?” She nodded, and Gilbert saw a flicker of her determined spirit before she started to stand. He rushed to grab her elbow, keeping the weight off her foot. 

Steady on her feet, Anne took her first step. “Oh!” she yelped, collapsing into Gilbert. He caught her just in time, her entire weight leaning into him. A scrap of paper fluttered out her hand, landing gracefully at his feet. 

“She’s fainted!” Jerry said, eyes wide. 

“That’s expected, she’s in a lot of pain,” he said, bending to sweep her legs over his opposite elbow. She was limp, like a wilted flower. It’s just the ankle, he reminded himself. With Anne in his arms, they made for the porch, Marilla waiting at the door. 

Gilbert couldn’t help imagining holding Anne like this under different circumstances, one where she was wide awake, full of bliss, and decked out in white. It was a far-off, impossible dream, though, and if Anne didn’t want him, he’d learn to live with that.  

Once inside, he settled her on the couch, tucking a pillow under her ankle. Starting on the laces of her boots, he went through the checklist in his mind, “Miss Cuthbert, could you find some cloth for wrapping?” He slipped her boot off as slowly as he could, trying not to cause her any more pain. Not that she’d feel it, being passed out. Jerry stood at his side, disgust writ across his face. 

The ankle was already swollen, tinges of purple blooming from Anne’s freckled skin. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Anne would be mortified. Marilla returned with cloth and a splint, which Gilbert made quick use of. All the while, Anne remained unconscious, the picture of maidenly grace. With sunshine streaking in from the window above her, it appeared as though she were just having a peaceful, quiet nap. 

He finished the wrapping and scanned her over for any other injuries. Besides a couple of scrapes, she was miraculously okay. “Now what?” Marilla asked.

“Now we wait,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite Anne.

________

Anne awoke with a gasp, pitching forward off the couch. Gilbert was there to catch her, again . Leaning back against the cushions, she gazed in fright at the concern etched into the crease of his forehead. And his eyebrows, his lovely, dancing eyebrows…

“Are you alright?” he asked, his hand still wrapped around her arm. She was tempted to call him a dingus again, but he looked so worried for her that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. There were those darned romantic eyes again. 

She nodded, afraid that something other than yes would come out. Maybe a passionate declaration of love, or a scathing insult he didn’t (at the moment) deserve. “Marilla’s getting tea, and Jerry’s gone to finish the chores” he said. So they were alone then. 

“Does anything else hurt? I would’ve asked earlier, but you fainted… so…” Anne did a mental catalog of her limbs and joints. Nothing seemed—

Ah, there it was. Her pinky finger was throbbing as badly as her ankle. It was twisted at a weirder angle than her ankle, turning plump and purple as they stared. “Here, let me,” Gilbert said, reaching for her hand. His fingers were rough, calloused from years on the farm, but there was a tenderness to the way he examined the tiny, tiny digit as though it were the bane of Anne’s existence. He stopped scrutinizing it and just held her hand, rubbing soft circles on her palm. Anne’s heart pounded in careless affection for the boy across from her. But between them rested the remnants of his letter, the fragments of Anne’s shattered heart. 

She drew back, and he jerked to look up at her, seemingly shocked out of a daze. Was this how it was going to be from now on? All the friendliness they’d built up after agreeing to that t-r-u-c-e would be gone? But it was for the best, Anne knowing now how terrible unrequited love really was. It had seemed easy to go on pretending like nothing was wrong, but now that love had tainted her gaze, it was hard not to look at him and see Prince Charming. 

He stood up suddenly, his cheeks turning pink, “I’ll get some uh… bandages.”

Anne tried to gather her scattered thoughts. She couldn’t forget what Gilbert had done to her in the past few weeks. No matter how charming and kind he seemed, Gilbert Blythe was history to her, and Anne would not forget it. Even if it broke her heart all over again. 

He returned to her side, cheeks flushed and curls delightfully ruffled. She’d give anything to have a chance to run a hand through them. His hazel eyes flickered gold in the sunlight as he wrapped her pinky finger and her ring finger together. The pain faded away under his gentle care, an unwelcome reminder of his goodness. 

Stop it, Anne.

She remembered herself and stared straight ahead. Gilbert stopped wrapping and drew his hands away. He paused for a moment, then spoke, “How did you fall out of your window?” 

Anne pointedly avoided his gaze, “It’s none of your business, Gilbert.” 

He winced, “So you read the letter then.”

She afforded him a glance. He looked more heartbroken than she felt, but Anne didn’t have a clue why. He was getting what he wanted after all, a beautiful wife, a life in Paris and an education at the Sorbonne. What else could he wish for! 

Gilbert rose to pace the room, his nervous energy palpable, “It’s not how I wanted to say it, Anne, but I was afraid of what you’d think of me. And… apparently I was right.” He stopped. For an engaged man, he looked much too distressed. “If you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.” 

For a moment, Anne imagined a future without Gilbert. She already knew they’d never be married , but for him to just not be there? Visiting Bash and Dellie would be like visiting the home of a ghost, more so than it was now, with Mary’s death. He wouldn’t come over for Sunday suppers or walk her into church or accompany her on trips to Charlottetown (even if she didn’t need him). Gilbert Blythe would become another piece of Anne’s past that she would try to forget. 

But she didn’t want to forget him. He was one of her best friends, a kindred spirit and—

“That’d be impossible, Gilbert,” she whispered. As much as Anne disliked him now, she wouldn’t be able to completely erase him from her life, even if he’d be spending all his time in Paris with Winifred. 

He continued like she hadn’t spoken, “I know I said too much and you already made your feelings very clear, but I just had to say something before I left.” 

“No, Gilbert, it was I who revealed too much,” Anne said, talking over him. 

“I just couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing what you’d say.”
“I should’ve left it alone, let you carry on with your perfect life—”

“We would still be friends if I hadn’t—”

“I’m sorry,” they said together. It was Bash and Mary’s wedding all over again. Tragical romance and all? Remains to be seen. Their words were faster than their thoughts, their emotions taking over any sense of manners. 

Gilbert chuckled darkly, “Looks like I’m the one with the tragical romance after all.”

Anne blanched, “Tragical? You’re engaged to the most beautiful girl! You’re going to the Sorbonne! I’m the one with the tragical romance, Gilbert.” Fate did have a terrible way of spinning fears into reality. “In love with a boy who’s about to be married…” she mumbled. 

Gilbert froze, “Wait— what?”

Anne looked at him. “You already read my letter, Gil.” Her eyebrows narrowed, “Didn’t you?” 

“Didn’t you read mine?” he asked, more confused than Anne. 

Anne had the good sense to be a little regretful, “No… I sort of ripped it up into a million pieces.” To be fair, he deserved it. 

“So you didn’t…” he sat down again suddenly, shocked. He looked up at her with a new sincerity, “Anne, please understand, I’m not engaged, I’m not going to Paris and…” he hesitated, then shook his head, “...what did yours say? I’m afraid I never received it.” 

He wasn’t getting married? 

He wasn’t going to Paris?

She knew she should be wondering why, or at least giving him her sympathy, but Anne couldn’t bring herself to do so. His shock mirrored her own. The universe had dropped another opportunity into her lap, the chance to start over and reveal herself truthfully. 

But writing it down on paper was much easier than admitting it to the object of her affection right in front of her. Unbidden, memories of her and Gilbert came to mind. Their not-romance romance was full of undeclared love letters, tragic dances, walks through the woods and passion that Anne didn’t feel for anyone else. Did she risk it all and spill her guts again?

“Tea’s ready!” Marilla re-entered the room, a tea tray balanced between her hands, “Oh! Anne, you’re awake!” She rushed over, dropping the tray on the end table. Gilbert leaned back into his chair, releasing a disappointed sigh. Her letter would have to wait, yet again. 

_______

Marilla fussed and poked and prodded Anne for what seemed like a century. Gilbert was about ready to make up another excuse for the woman to leave them, just so he could have another moment alone with Anne. He had to know what was in that letter. 

“Really, Marilla, I’m fine,” Anne was saying. 

“You’ll have to be careful packing up these next few days, and there’ll be no tree climbing, and your window will have to be kept shut . I don’t know why you decided to fling yourself out a two-story window, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” she continued. Gilbert tried and failed to suppress a grin. Anne did have a penchant for trouble. 

Anne gasped, “No, Marilla! You can’t deprive me of the sweet summer breezes and my Snow Queen when I’m only here for a few more days! You can’t!” Somehow she looked even more distraught than when she’d practically broken her ankle. 

Marilla was used to Anne’s whimsical wishes, “Fine. But only 12 inches or you’ll break your other ankle.” 

They were at a point where Gilbert wasn’t needed anymore. Anne hardly needed a bedside attendant, and the doctor would be arriving soon enough, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Thankfully, every time Marilla turned to him, Anne interrupted, apparently as desperate for him to stay as he was. He was working up the courage to ask Marilla for a plum puff or a slice of pie or anything, when Anne spoke up. 

“Marilla, can you give me and Gilbert a moment alone?” she asked sweetly. Gilbert’s cheeks reddened, despite him wanting the same. Marilla glanced between the two of them, searching for an explanation. She seemed to know something, though, because she left the room with no further questions. 

This was it, then. Gilbert’s last chance. It seemed easy this time, like someone had undone the final knot in their complicated web of misunderstandings. 

“I’m in love with you,” they said together. It was a fitting conclusion to always talking over one another. 

Gilbert’s heart soared. Anne’s love had always been a fairy tale that had once seemed as unlikely as going to the Sorbonne. He smiled, unable to hold back his joy. 

“That’s what my letter said,” Anne whispered, reaching for his hand with her unbroken one. 

He chuckled, “Mine too.” Their fingers intertwined as easily as they did while they were dancing. “I was always afraid saying that would end up with another slate to my head, or worse.” Anne breathed a laugh. “I- I tried to move on, when I was sure you’d never feel the same, but I always ended up coming back to you and your fiery spirit and your colorful words and your passion for living. Always.”
He’d imagined telling her so many times, but the words had never felt right. They did now, with her sitting beside him. 

She didn’t respond, just gaped at him with shining eyes. Before he knew what was happening, she was grabbing him by the lapels and kissing him.

This… he’d never imagined this to be her reaction. Stunned, it took him a moment to respond, but he did. With enthusiasm.

Somewhere in the back of his mind there were fireworks exploding in the night sky and waves crashing against shore. It was hard to describe what kissing Anne felt like, except maybe every happy moment of his life rolled into one. Anne could describe it. 

They pulled apart, breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against hers, finally close enough to trace the lines between her freckles. Bringing his hands up to her face, he kissed her gently once more. Was it possible to be this happy?

Anne laughed, “Not so tragical anymore, huh?” 

"Quite the opposite actually," Gilbert chuckled, unable to contain his smile. 

Chapter Text

“The whole series of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force of reality.” - Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

__________ 

“Not so tragical anymore, huh?” Anne laughed.

Gilbert couldn’t contain his smile, “Quite the opposite actually.”

Anne held his hands as tightly as she could without hurting her poor finger. There were so many things she wanted to tell him and questions that she wanted answered, but all she could focus on was him. Gilbert had kissed her, and told her he loved her and all was right with the world. 

Reality came stomping back in as the doctor and Matthew arrived, his eyes wild with distress. Gilbert leapt back from her, like a pan too hot to touch. It was for propriety’s sake of course, but Anne couldn’t help feeling a little stung. What worth did propriety have when she’d just kissed the boy of her dreams?

The doctor fussed over Anne’s ankle, complimenting Gilbert’s quick thinking and his “perfect” splint. She giggled at the unimpressed expression on Gilbert’s face; he wasn’t quite over the man refusing Bash service. Marilla watched with a keen eye, picking up the instructions that Anne was blatantly ignoring. To be fair, she had good reason to. Besides, she’d have Gilbert to remind her anyway. 

With the delightful turn of events in the last hour, Anne hadn’t had the chance to consider the nature of her injury. For an intrepid adventurer like herself, a twisted ankle wasn’t how she wanted to spend her last precious days at Green Gables. She’d be confined to the house, unable to give her darling friends of nature a proper goodbye. 

“Well, I best be off, then,” the doctor said. He grabbed his hat and medical bag and made for the door, “Be careful, Miss Shirley.” The door snapped shut and Anne was left with three pairs of worried eyes, all staring at her. 

Marilla spoke first, exasperatedly, “Well, it’s quite the story, Anne, even for you.” She ran a nervous hand over Anne’s hair, “How did you manage to fall out of your window?” 

Her fainting spell and romantic spell hadn’t damaged her memory, but the truth of the matter was a bit too embarrassing, especially in present company. Now that she thought of it, Gilbert would be mortified to learn he was practically the cause of her plunge. 

The boy in question shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, “Yeah, how did you manage that?” Anne wished she could wipe that cheeky grin off his face. Preferably with the nice thwack of a pillow. Or a pin cushion. Or a slate, whichever was closest. 

“I was reaching too far for a branch of my dear Snow Queen,” she said. That seemed a plausible enough lie. 

Apparently so, for Marilla and Matthew nodded along like they hadn’t expected anything less. Gilbert’s cheeky smile remained, but it was less teasing now. More like a boy who’d just fallen in love all over again. 

“Will you stay for supper, Gilbert? Unless you’ve got other plans,” Marilla asked. Anne waited for him to agree, but his smile dropped suddenly. 

“Actually, I um… I need to help Bash finish some chores, but thank you.” He was up, already walking out the door, “Hope the ankle turns out alright, Anne.” He nodded at the Cuthberts, a special one for Anne, and was gone in a flash. Did he just… leave? Like that?

Marilla went on about how’d they have to adjust Anne’s living situation and her chores and the usual precautions, but she wasn’t listening. 

Gilbert was hiding something from her and she didn’t like it. 

_________

He really didn’t want to make his exit like that, but there was more than just chores to consider. Winifred had asked for two weeks, and Gilbert had broken that promise on more than one level. Technically only two people knew now, Anne and Bash, but Anne was a step away from Marilla who was a step away from Rachel Lynde and then the whole town would know in a matter of hours. It wasn’t fair to Winifred. 

If he had had just one more second with Anne, he could have at least told her, or warned her to keep their… relationship, a secret, but it didn’t seem possible with Matthew and Marilla fawning over her like that. So he’d left her, cheeks still flushed and lips still swollen, though he tried not to think of that part. 

But it was impossible not to! Anne loved him! They’d kissed! He could practically skip his way back home. Even now, a half hour removed from the incident, there was a bright smile plastered upon his face that he couldn’t quite pull back. 

For all the times he’d returned home looking like a “moke” as Bash would say, this was probably the worst. He shut the door behind him, Bash dancing around the kitchen with Dellie in his arms. He looked up as Gilbert arrived, a knowing smile already starting. “How’s Anne’s ankle?” he asked.

“It’s badly sprained, and she also broke a finger… by falling out of her bedroom window,” he said. 

Bash stopped, setting Dellie down in her crib, “Really? She…” There was a note of disbelief coloring his Trinidadian accent. Gilbert nodded, still holding on to his ridiculous grin. Bash howled with laughter, clutching his sides, “How did our Anne manage that!” 

Gilbert laughed, “She claims she was reaching for the tree outside her window, but I don’t think that’s quite the truth.” He might as well get the teasing over with.

Bash tilted his head at him, “And what makes you think that?” Gilbert shrugged. “You know, Blythe, you’re smiling a bit too much for a boy who’s love of their life just fell out of a window and broke her ankle…”

“It’s sprained, not broken.” He crossed the room to say hello to Dellie. The little angel cooed and giggled at him. Everyday she was growing more into the baby version of Mary. Bash was silent, unusual for him. Gilbert turned around, “What?”

Bash pointed an accusatory finger, “You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“That Anne’s not the love of your life.”

Gilbert could only grin in response. Bash gasped, “Mary, the day has come!” He shouted toward the heavens, “Our Gilby-goo has admitted his love for Anne!” Bash quickly trapped him in a tight hug, “What in the world happened, Blythe?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” he said, his voice muffled in Bash’s shoulder.

“This is a story I would never miss, Blythe,” Bash said, pulling back. He reached for a chair and sat down. “Sit,” he said. 

It was strange for this conversation to be happening outside of Gilbert’s imagination. He had envisioned telling Bash about finally figuring it out with Anne many times (though not nearly as often as he had imagined Anne telling him she loved him). It had never seemed possible, especially when he could barely admit to the man that he liked Anne in the first place. Only when it had gotten serious with Winifred had Gilbert needed to tell the truth, even if it was only a fragment. 

Part of the reason he was so sure Winifred wasn’t right for him was Bash’s reaction. If your brother gets more excited about the girl you aren’t going to propose to, maybe there’s something wrong with the girl you are going to propose to. But he knew now that however perfect Winifred was, she wasn’t perfect for him. 

He told the story, starting with his letter that morning. Bash had gotten up to thwack him on the head for that, Dellie giggling in delight. Anne’s letter was a mystery to Bash as well, but it was the ending that really confounded him. “You just left her like that? Gilbert Blythe, you can’t kiss her, tell her ya love her and then run away!” Another thwack to the head. 

“I had to! I made a promise to Winifred!” 

“And you made a promise to Anne when you started kissing the poor girl,” he said, getting up to rescue Dellie who’d just begun to cry. Bash did have a point. “You have to tell her, as soon as possible.” 

Gilbert got up quickly , grabbing his hat, “Alright. I’ll go right now.” 

Bash laughed, “Ha! No you don’t, still got chores to do. If Anne thinks you’re doing chores, you best be doing chores.” Gilbert sighed. Anne would have to wait just a little bit longer.

________

Anne spent the rest of her day very, very confused. Thank goodness she had her ankle and fainting spell to blame for the dazed look on her face, or Marilla would be asking loads of questions. 

Gilbert had told her he loved her, kissed her, and then ran off faster than she could call him a dingus again. It wasn’t the best way to start off a relationship, if that’s what they were now. She wouldn’t know! He didn’t stay long enough for her to find out!

Supper had been a somber affair, everyone worn out from the events of the day. They hadn’t quite figured out how to move Anne in her delicate state yet. The doctor said he’d lent out his last pair of crutches and Matthew would need a day or two to construct his own, what with the harvest going on. To get to the dining room, Anne had wrapped an arm around both of her guardians’ shoulders and hopped there. It was an awkward way of getting about, especially when she knew sprained ankles didn’t just disappear in a week. It’d be a nightmare to start her first day at Queen’s on a pair of crutches. Such was her luck. 

“Right,” Marilla said, gathering the dishes, “We’ll put you in the guest bedroom tonight so you don’t have to manage the stairs. And I know the second floor window was daring, but that doesn’t mean you have to try out the first floor window as well.” 

The woman wouldn’t stop! “Marilla, I’m not going to be falling out of anymore windows, I promise!” A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. It was too late for any visitors, the candles dripping wax. Normally, Anne would be there first, curious about their guest, but she was confined to her bench, waiting to hear if Marilla would give any clues. 

“Gilbert! What are you doing here?” she heard from the other room. Oh no . Gilbert was here? Anne wasn’t ready for this. She thought for sure he’d wait till tomorrow to explain, when she’d have answers prepared and didn’t look a wreck. She tightened her braids and smoothed her skirts, preparing for the worst. 

“Sorry for the late hour, Miss Cuthbert. Just came to check on Anne, and return Matthew’s cufflinks,” he was saying. Matthew raised his eyebrows at her. What if he was here to tell her it was all a mistake? He’d marry Winifred and Anne would have to forget that this afternoon ever happened. Though, she would like to forget about the falling out of the window part. That hadn’t been pleasant. 

Marilla was clamoring on about Gilbert’s kindness, but the boy had moved past her into the kitchen. He dropped the cufflinks in Matthew’s open hands. “Thank you,” he said. Then he looked at Anne. It didn’t take long for Anne to realize all her silly fantasies of him rejecting her were just that, fantasies. Ruby Gillis was right. Gilbert looked at her with romance in his eyes. How did she not see it before? They grinned at each other, before remembering there were other people in the room. “How’s the ankle?”

“Sprained, painful, tragical, a nuisance, there’s ever so many words to describe it.” She peered down at the wrappings, “We haven’t figured out how to get me anywhere without crutches yet, unless I have two people to help out.” She sighed, once again mourning the chains around her venturesome spirit. 

Gilbert took his hat off quickly, “I can carry you.” 

“ What? ” she squeaked. That was chivalrous and kind, but also so embarrassing. Marilla would never stand for it! Anne gaped at him, cheeks already reddening. 

“I did this afternoon and it worked well. Besides, Mattew’s… Matthew probably can’t carry you” —the old man nodded— “And then it won’t be cumbersome for any of you. I don’t mind.” 

Anne wouldn’t mind either. No , no, that was a silly thought! However much she liked Gilbert, maybe even loved him, his carrying her would be mortifying! And to think he’d apparently already done so without her knowing was— was… “You can’t!” 

“Why not?” Marilla asked, “We need to get you to bed somehow and this way works well enough.” She nodded gratefully at Gilbert, “Anne will be in the guest room just down the hall, I’ll grab some blankets from upstairs.” Matthew and Marilla disappeared, leaving them alone, again . If she wasn’t peeved by his outlandish suggestion, Anne would be desperately trying to kiss him again. Kissing was much more fun than she ever thought it’d be. 

Gilbert moved toward her. Anne put up both hands in defense, “I don’t need your help, Gilbert. I can get to bed myself.” 

He laughed disbelievingly, “No you can’t, Anne.” Before she could protest again, he was bending down at her side, tucking an arm around her back and the other under her knees. This was so inappropriate! Marilla would have a fit! 

“I will CRAWL!” she shouted as he lifted her skyward, “Or hop on one foot!” He took a step forward, Anne latching her arms around his neck so as to not fall. So close to him, she could feel the rumble of a laugh in his chest. His strong, solid chest… In fact, if she just inched her hands up a few inches, she could finally know what those dark curls felt like. She looked up to his face, that strong chin she’d always admired and the small smattering of freckles across his nose. In the candlelight, his hazel eyes turned burnished gold. The beginnings of a poem were already unraveling in her head. So entranced by the sight of him, she didn’t notice that he was staring too, or that they’d reached her bed for the night. 

He lowered her gently to the sheets, keeping his eyes locked onto her own. “Thank you,” she whispered. Their lips were only inches apart now, a fact Anne didn’t need Gilbert’s wandering eyes to know. A breath, and then they were leaning toward each other once more. 

Gilbert stopped. Anne’s heart shrivelled back into its state of unrequited love. He shut his eyes tightly, “I’m sorry. We can’t, not yet.” The edges of her despair unfurled slightly, emboldened by his quiet promise of not yet . 

Someday then. Hopefully soon. 

Marilla returned with the blankets. Gilbert was across the room before Anne had time to process his confusing words. What did it all mean?

Marilla was going on about Gilbert’s graciousness and how they’d figure out the next few days, when Anne would get her crutches, but neither were really listening, just watching the other. He didn’t run off like he had before, giving Anne hope. 

Tomorrow , he mouthed. She nodded, hoping it would be an explanation and not an apology. The universe was still spinning circles around them, retying the knots it had undone. 

Moments later, he left her with a smile, Marilla escorting him out. 

Anne was about ready to give up on her dreams of Gilbert Blythe. Not because he wasn’t kind, intelligent and dreamy, but because he was so darn confusing . 

Chapter Text

“Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity and ruin.” — Mary Shelley, Frankenstein 

_____________

Diana Barry was in the depths of despair. If she had Anne’s imagination, she’d be adrift at the bottom of a deep ocean, darkness closing in and drowning in her sorrows. Queens, it seemed, would not be a part of her future. 

It’s our future, not yours! was bouncing around the recesses of her mind, knocking over the carefully hidden hopes and dreams that she had. For the first time in her life, Diana had been doing what she wanted, not anybody else. It started with pursuing a relationship with Jerry, even though he’d been a secret. Taking the Queen’s entrance exams seemed to be too much, however, and Diana was again reminded of her place in the world. 

Finishing school was on the horizon, whether she liked it or not. Paris seemed so far away from her friends, from her family, from the place she’d grown up. 

Though her bed seemed the safest place in the world right then, she knew she needed to tell Anne right away. It was a terrible thing to do, especially after Anne’s heart had been crushed by stupid Gilbert Blythe, but it was imperative that her bosom friend knew the truth. And she just wanted her best friend right now. She fingered the necklace between her fingers. Their connection was stronger now that they knew what it was to be apart. Diana never wanted to be apart from Anne again, but it looked like they’d have to suffer through many years of separation. 

She sat up, a frown already smearing her pretty face. If her parents wouldn’t let her go to Queens, they couldn’t stop her from visiting Anne right away. Determination propelling her to dress quickly, Diana was downstairs in minutes, already grabbing her hat. 

“Diana!” her mother called from the parlor. “Where are you going!” In response Diana snapped the door shut behind her. Best to avoid the confrontation completely. 

Besides, Anne was more important. 

__________

Gilbert finished tying the laces on his boots, straightening up to adjust his vest. His talk with Bash yesterday had gotten to him, and visiting Anne was at the top of his list of priorities. 

He left the house quietly. Bash was already up doing chores, but he didn’t need Delly delaying his romantic pursuits any further. Anne needed to know everything. And he needed to apologize, profusely. 

Those top marks on the entrance exams mocked him now. How could he do so well on an exam like that and then act like a complete idiot to the girl of his dreams? 

Although, maybe it had worked out in the end. It was impossible to hold back a grin as he thought of the memory of kissing Anne. A memory, not imagination. How wonderfully strange. 

Practically skipping with delight, he made his way to Green Gables. In his mind he ticked off all the things he needed to say to Anne. First, apologize for running off without an explanation, twice. Second, kiss her— No! Not yet. Second, explain his promise to Winifred. Third, explain Winifred —Anne deserved to know why he’d been so foolish and that Gilbert’s feelings for her were hardly new. Fourth, beg for forgiveness, hope that Anne wouldn’t send him away. And lastly, well. That all depended on Anne’s thoughts on everything. If it went well, the fifth step would be kissing the living daylights out of her, and if it didn’t… he avoided thinking about that. 

So lost in his thoughts, he tripped over a rock. Which reminded him of Anne’s ankle that definitely needed looking after. He sighed, that meant rearranging his entire list. The ankle checking would need to come first—

A branch breaking interrupted his new list. Gilbert froze. It was still early, unlikely that anyone else would be traversing the woods at an hour like this. But from an adjacent path came Diana Barry in her signature blue skirts. 

“Diana!” he called. Normally, he wouldn’t have addressed her so cheerfully—they weren’t friends really, more like acquaintances—but his determination to see Anne and right everything had put him in good spirits. 

Diana spotted him through the trees. He smiled and waved, but the sentiment was not returned. In fact, Diana looked almost… murderous. Eyebrows lowered, her usually delicate smile puckered and frowned and the hands at her side turned into fists. Then she was stepping off the path, charging toward him. 

“GILBERT BLYTHE!” she shouted. “I’D LIKE TO HAVE A WORD WITH YOU!”

Gilbert gulped. 

____________

Perhaps that wasn’t the politest way to address him, but Diana had risen from the depths of despair into a complete monster of rage. Picking a fight with her parents was pointless, but Gilbert Blythe? She had plenty to say to him. 

Knocking branches aside and barely paying attention to where her feet fell, Diana stormed toward him. The tiniest seed of regret was planted when she saw his almost instantaneous transformation into the nervous twelve-year-old he used to be, but she ripped it up when she remembered Anne. 

“Yes?” he squeaked rather unmanly-like. 

Spitting her words like the fire they were, Diana began her rant. “Going to see Anne, are you? After you ripped her heart out and pulverized it into a thousand pieces?”

He only gaped at her.

“How dare you even think of stepping in that house, when all you’ve done is treat her like— like dirt! She doesn’t want to see you!”

“Actually, I’m—”

“You don’t deserve to see her!”

Gilbert frowned, and Diana saw her rage reflected back in his eyes. “I’m going to tell her everything, Diana.” 

The nerve of this stupid, idiotic— “You mean, you’re going to admit your feelings for her, when you’re engaged , unable to ever have a future with her? Don’t you see how much you’ll just end up hurting her again ?”

“Again?”

Diana made a very unladylike noise of pure rage. “You’ve had every opportunity to tell her! For years! Admit it: you’ve been smitten with Anne ever since she first came to Avonlea and smashed her slate over your head! There have been countless clues! And you certainly can’t deny that you were beguiled by her at dance practice, even though it turns out you were secretly courting a mystery debutante, who you had the temerity to step out with at the fair with no word of warning. Then you show up at the ruins after exams, demand to know how Anne feels about you and give her all of 30 seconds to decide her entire future!” She was practically shrieking, but Diana didn’t care. “And worst of all, you callously ignored the letter Anne wrote to you, even though she told you she loved you!”

Gasping with anger, Diana put as much hatred as she could into glaring at Gilbert. She used to think very highly of him, but lately, those high regards had fallen quite dramatically. 

But to her surprise, Gilbert hadn’t risen to meet her anger. He looked… embarrassed. Ashamed. 

Her voice fell back to its normal level, though it was caked in disbelief. “You knew? About the letter?” Up till now, Diana had chalked up his ignoring it to a mistake. Perhaps it had been lost to the trash, or spilled upon. But all this time, he had known how Anne felt and still acted like a complete imbecile. “I can’t believe you, Gilbert.”

His shoulders fell. “Please, let me explain.” Diana didn’t want to hear another word from him, but that little seed of regret had returned. And no matter how much she wanted to squash it, there was still some part of her that hoped Gilbert was a good person. Maybe this was all just some huge misunderstanding. 

Except for the night at the ruins. That was a completely dimwitted move on his part. 

“I’m going to Anne right now to explain all that, and apologize. I only learned about the letter yesterday, when Anne fell out her window.” 

Diana gaped. Anne did what ? 

Gilbert saw her confusion and explained. “I wrote her a letter yesterday explaining everything—”

“NO! Stop! Anne did what ?”

“Fell out her window…” he said cautiously. 

Her anger returned swiftly. “How could you not start with that! We have to go !”

Ignoring his protests that she hadn’t given him a chance to speak, Diana dragged his elbow back down the path. 

Apparently they were both idiots. Falling out of windows, writing silly love letters, making heart-eyes instead of speaking—If they made it out of this, Diana was going to sit them down and have a long, long chat about communication. 

__________

Anne awoke to a multitude of sensations. The lingering memory of Gilbert’s lips on hers, the strength of his arms underneath her. The way her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she admitted her feelings, as he did the same. 

And pain. A lot of pain.
Most of it shot up from her ankle like her bones had been replaced with shards of glass. Her fingers throbbed, as did her heart. Gilbert had admitted his feelings, but he had also run away like there was something keeping them apart. 

Was it Winifred?  She was afraid to ask, but those insecurities couldn’t be cured with one kiss (two) and little explanation. He’d promised to return today. Hopefully he’d been sincere. 

With a start, Anne realized the sun was already climbing toward noon in the window outside. Just how long had Marilla let her sleep? Shifting carefully on the bed, Anne pulled back on the curtain to reveal a sight she’d never thought she’d see. 

Both Gilbert and Diana were heading up the path, greeting Matthew and Jerry in the field as they passed. Or at least, Gilbert greeted Jerry. Diana pretended he wasn’t there, and stormed toward the house like a girl on a mission. Of course, if Gilbert hadn’t continued his strange behavior, Diana probably knew now that her bosom-friend had flung herself out a window and was now in for a scolding. 

Gilbert didn’t look quite so angry, just off put. Like someone had slipped curry into his oatmeal. The odd combination did make her wonder, though. She would have asked Mary about it if she was still with them. 

As the pair neared the house, Anne let the curtain fall and busied herself with fixing her hair. She could already imagine the horror with which Gilbert would look upon her mess of sleep-mussed braids and the day-old dress she’d slept in. Her fingers worked quickly as a knock sounded at the front door. 

Though muffled, Anne heard the customary greetings, Diana’s demand to know more and Gilbert’s inquiry about her health. Suddenly, Anne felt more loved than ever, to have such kind friends. Her awful days at the orphanage were hard to forget, but new memories were taking their place. Walks through the forest with Diana. The story club. Potato electricity. Dancing with Gilbert. Even the night at the ruins, even though Gilbert had besmirched it with his inability to express exactly how he felt. 

By the time Diana and Gilbert arrived at her door, Anne was close to tears. 

“Oh, Anne!” Diana cried, and flung herself into Anne’s arms. The tears came quickly now, which was a bit embarrassing since Gilbert was here, but then she remembered the day Mary got sick and it seemed silly to regret emoting in front of him. 

“I came as soon as I heard! Gilbert here didn’t think to tell me right away—” He rolled his eyes. Clearly there was a discrepancy about what happened, but Anne ignored it. “—but he promised to explain everything.” Diana pulled away, still concerned. 

Anne glanced at him. He did look a bit sheepish, which was new for him. “She sort of called me out for everything, which is why I’m here. To explain. And apologize.” 

She sighed, relieved. “I should hope so.” 

“And I would’ve liked to do it privately—” A pointed look at Diana. “—but apparently I can’t be trusted.” 

Diana smirked. Anne wondered what their conversation had been like. Although based on Diana’s behavior, her bosom friend had defended her valiantly. 

Gilbert launched into a winded explanation. He’d been sure about his feelings ever since he returned from travelling, but admitting them to Anne terrified him—which was understandable considering the slate incident. He recalled their train ride to Charlottetown with a heavy heart, as Anne’s attitude made him believe there wasn’t ever a chance for them. And then Winifred came along and everything was so easy . That hurt more than Anne would’ve liked. 

“But I should’ve known that however easy it was to be with Winifred, it was nothing compared to being with you . And if I had just held out a little longer…” 

The sentence need not be finished. Anne had been rethinking every interaction with Gilbert for weeks now. If she had actually admitted her feelings at the fair. If they’d been able to study together without a fiancée between them. If that night at Miss Stacy’s had ended how it was supposed to. Even the ruins would’ve been different. 

He apologized for that, the letter, and leaving so abruptly yesterday. Twice. 

Through it all, the cracks of Anne’s heart were filling in. It meant more to her than she knew that he was here, admitting all his mistakes and promising to be better. Even as Diana sat awkwardly between them, alternating between absolute rage and a knowing smirk. 

He finished by grasping Anne’s uninjured hand in her own. “This is all to say that I’m really sorry for being a dingus, and… I love you.” Anne’s heart melted. 

She leaned forward and found his lips, pressing as much love as she could into him. She felt his smile beneath hers, and couldn’t help feeling the same. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold up!” Diana interrupted them, and Anne pulled back. Right. It was a bit awkward to start kissing when her best friend was right there. And clearly still confused. “So you read Gilbert’s letter? And that cleared everything up?”

“No, I fell out my window after ripping up Gilbert’s letter, and that cleared everything up,” Anne said. 

Diana blinked once, twice. “That doesn’t clear up anything. That breaks your ankle.”

“Sprains,” Gilbert chimed in. “And after Anne fell, I came and fixed her up and we figured it out.” 

Diana stood, still flustered. “Okay, that clears it up, except wait—no , it doesn’t,” she said sarcastically. “You’re still engaged!” she declared, turning around to glare at Gilbert. 

Anne waited for him to say he wasn’t, to say he’d broken it off with Winifred, but instead he turned white as a sheet. “Gilbert?” Anne dared to ask. 

“Technically—”

“Technically?!” Diana shrieked. 

“ Technically , I broke it off with Winifred.” Anne sighed with relief. “But she asked that I give her two weeks before telling anyone to get her affairs in order. I’ve only told Anne, and Bash, and now you, Diana, but no one else can know.”

Anne gave herself a moment to process. While it thrilled her that Gilbert’s feelings for her eclipsed any promise he made to Winifred, it still meant that whatever this was had to remain a secret. 

Hmm , Anne wondered. A secret romantic relationship with Gilbert Blythe. When did her life turn into a romance novel?

“That’s alright, the two weeks will be up soon enough and then we’ll be at Queens, and it won’t matter anymore.” Anne smiled. Everything seemed to be falling into place, minus the sprained ankle. 

Except, neither of her friends were smiling with her. “Right?” Anne asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. 

Gilbert’s hand in hers suddenly felt cold. And Diana’s normally pleasant smile had morphed into a frown. Anne glanced between them, waiting for someone to explain her worries away. 

Diana spoke first. “I did talk to my parents, like you suggested. But… they won’t let me go to Queens.” Tears threatened to return. Anne wanted to promise they’d figure it out and change their minds, but all she could do was reach for Diana’s hand. 

Mournfully, they both turned to Gilbert. “I’m not going to the Sorbonne, obviously, but I did ask Miss Stacy to send my exam results to the University of Toronto so… there’s a good chance I’ll be going there.” 

She wanted to promise they’d figure it out as well, but how could she be so selfish when a school like that would spur his medical career much further than Queens ever would?

“Oh,” Anne managed to say. “Well… it’s what we imagined would happen anyway, right? Separated by…” she choked up, unable to finish. She felt silly, when she wasn’t the one leaving, but it was a lot to learn at once. 

Frowning, Anne’s eyes returned to her ankle. It suddenly felt less troublesome now, only a small drop of annoyance in a large sea of worries and disappearing dreams.