Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If Gilbert Blythe knew anything (and, as one of Avonlea’s best scholars, he knew quite a bit), it was that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was never more beguiling to him than when she flew into a passion about one thing or another.

And Anne was certainly a passionate individual.

Gilbert had just traversed the muddy, early spring roads to the schoolhouse, where he was planning to finish the backdrop he was making for the concert Miss Stacey’s senior pupils were putting on next weekend. The plan, having been cooked up by Anne in a patriotic fervor after the recent election, was to spend the funds raised by the concert to install a flagpole our front of their humble school building.

Gilbert had expected to find the schoolhouse deserted on this golden Saturday morning, having borrowed the front door key and garnered special permission from Miss Stacey to access to the school and finish his project in peaceful solitude. After all, it was quite difficult to do one’s best work AND keep a wary eye out for Moody Spurgeon’s haphazard and entirely luckless movements at the same time. No one, Miss Stacey least of all, wanted a repeat of the many carefully laid plans Moody had destroyed just by being, well, Moody.

But as Gilbert approached the schoolhouse, he found the front door to the schoolroom propped open by a large river rock. Gilbert slowed his pace, hoping his arrival would go unnoticed until he could discover who had entered the school building without permission. Miss Stacey certainly hadn’t mentioned expecting anyone to be there, nor the existence of a second key.

Gilbert’s heart began to pound audibly, at least to his ears, which were on high alert as he crept up the front stairs and peered into the schoolroom. What if he was happening upon someone who meant to vandalize the school? Or a vagabond who was using the schoolhouse as a makeshift hotel for the weekend?!

Gilbert was seeing red as he peered into the room through the ajar door.

No, really. He saw red.

He felt lately that it must be only in his mind’s eye that red had become the focal point. But as Gilbert looked on from his unobtrusive vantage point, his gaze was instantly drawn to the fiery red of Anne Shirley-Cuthbert’s hair, which practically flew out behind her like a cape as she paced agitatedly across the front of the classroom.

She was clearly upset about something, but, for a moment, all Gilbert could focus on was the way suddenly finding Anne here made him felt — and he thought that his heart had been pounding before!

She was wearing the brown day-dress that Gilbert assumed Marilla had made, practical as it was. But he knew that Anne herself had hand-embroidered it with those pretty little flowers along the neckline.

Gilbert knew the flowers to be Anne’s handiwork because she had been holding said embroidery project when he and Bash had come to call and announce the birth of baby Delphine a few months back. Bash’s exultant exclamation of, “IT’S A GIRL!” had resulted in Anne’s flinging the project - dress, thread, needle et al - high into the air with a boisterous whoop!, much to Marilla’s chagrin.

It’s hard to say whether Anne or Bash had started the bout of hand-holding while jumping up and down with wide eyes and gleeful shrieks that followed, but the two things that ARE known are as follows: 1) Gilbert Blythe did not join in; and 2) He hadn’t only because he was rooted to the spot with the sheer force of the love that filled him in that moment. Love that felt like he had been weighed down irrevocably- tied to the people in the room with him forever - while lifting his heart and capacity for joy to previously undreamt-of heights. It was somehow a dizzying and sobering experience, and to this day Gilbert could not think about Anne and excitement of any kind in the same moment without experiencing an overwhelming urge to sit down and breathe deeply.

He had known that his feelings for Anne were different from anything he felt for anyone else before that day, but since the throwing and shrieking and bouncing he now knew how deep and broad and immovable those feelings were. It was a terrifying experience and also the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Those same feelings were definitely stirring in Gilbert’s heart now. He looked-on in suspended animation as energy sparked off of Anne’s kinetic form, roving back and forth, from wall to wall, where Miss Stacey usually stood placidly teaching.

After a few moments, Gilbert allowed his gaze to roam from Anne’s fiery hair and brilliant eyes, and he noticed that her long, slender fingers were holding open a book. Her voiced travelled to him through the crack in the doorway, and Gilbert realized what Anne must be doing here, inside of the school on a brilliant spring Saturday morning.

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!”

Anne recited as she paced, repeating the stanza over and again, trying ways to emphasize different words, using hand gestures and what Gilbert was sure she once would have called “tragical” faces as she rehearsed.

Anne must be here to practice the poem she is set to recite at the concert, thought Gilbert.

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart!” Anne commanded.

“One kiss,” she reverenced.

“One kiss?” she pleaded, almost a whisper.

Gilbert felt like the gravity around him was shifting as he watched her. He wasn’t thinking about where he was, about whether or not he should be standing here, silently watching her. He couldn’t think about anything, except for a vain hope that the pounding of his heart would stay just quiet enough for him to continue to stand here - to watch, to listen, to absorb these moments in stillness and happiness and anonymity.

A loud whap nearly made him jump out of his skin as Anne slammed the book shut, shaking her head and kicking at nothing in front of her.

“One kiss! Hah. And what, pray tell, do you know about kissing, Anee Shirley-Cuthbert?! After all, who would ever kiss an ugly orphan?”

Gilbert had kept his wits about him through the initial outburst, but at this exclamation his own body betrayed him. His lips didn’t open, but he ground his teeth together at the thought of Anne feeling unworthy of any romantic advance Anne could dream up (and, knowing her imagination, he was sure she could conjure up something quite spectacular). No, his fingers betrayed his shocked dismay by loosening their grip on the pail of tools and supplies he had carried from home to help him with his task.

CRASH!

Gilbert’s body went instantly still, his traitorous fingers splaying stiff and wide, as if saying, “Oops!”

All was still inside the schoolhouse for a single moment, too. And then Gilbert heard quick, fierce footsteps headed his way.

His guilty face naturally arranged itself into a sheepish grin as the door was opened from inside, and Anne found herself nearly nose-to-nose with him.

Either from the shock to her heart from the crashing tools just outside of her makeshift performance hall, or from the instant ire that was provoked from seeing what she determined must be a smug and laughing look upon Gilbert Blythe’s face, who must have heard everything - EVERYTHING - Anne felt no relief in seeing this friendly face.

“What do you think you are doing, GIlbert John Blythe?! How dare you spy on me?!!” Anne shouted, beginning to turn red around her pale, sharp collar bones.

“Anne, I’m sorry. I-- I-- You… You’re not supposed to be here. I thought I had the only key.” Gilbert should be used to being tongue-tied around Anne by now, but every time he opened his mouth in front of the girl he was horrified anew at just how stupid he felt.

Gilbert watched as the blush crept from Anne’s throat, up her neck, and settled lightly onto her freckled cheeks. He thought about what it would feel like to allow his fingers to follow the trail of her blush, to brush lightly across her shoulders, then up to her face. To see if his fingertips could decipher any minute temperature change as her skin went from fresh cream to sweet spring blossom in less than two seconds.

His thoughts were interrupted, though, somewhat violently, as the red came closer, filling his vision. His impulse should have been to step back as from an assault, but Gilbert had been attacked by Anne on a number of fronts since the day they met, and he never quite saw her coming.

He couldn’t be wary of clashing with Anne even if he wanted to be. It seemed his destiny to crash against this beautiful, passionate girl. He would stand his ground and take his lumps, however she saw fit to dole them out.

Anne’s single step forward had placed her exactly toe-to-toe with Gilbert, her eyes wild, hair waving behind her in the spring breeze. Her chest rose and fell rapidly in what he assumed to be an all-consuming anger, and Gilbert held his own breath, eyes wide, as he awaited her outburst.

And, well, she gave it to him, alright.

Time slowed to a crawl as Gilbert watched Anne raise her arms to grab his face, palms on his cheeks and splayed fingers straying into the dark, curling hair around his ears. She seemed to pause only long enough to lift her fire-filled eyes from his lips to his eyes.

Looking into Anne’s passion-fueled eyes set him instantly ablaze, like a lit match to dry tinder. The heat from her internal inferno started in his stomach and spread rapidly to consume his entire body. Every nerve, every molecule was alight with sensation. She was so close. His hands went out to her hips of their own accord, as much to steady her approach as to increase the feeling of burning for her.

He felt her weight shift slightly forward as she stood tiptoe to bring her face even closer to his. She paused again, her eyes breaking their hold on his as she moved them back down to his lips.

He felt his traitorous fingers, now reaping benefits never before dreamed of from their earlier clumsiness, tighten around her frame. They cried out to him to roam - to caress, cradle, consume the girl that was finally in their clutches - but their will was nothing. Nothing could distract his thoughts from the eyes that were filling his vision, their focus on his own parted lips, and on the sudden fire that made him feel as though he would burn up and become nothing but ash and desire floating on the breeze when she was finished.

And then, she kissed him.

Her lips came down hard on his - all of the anger and embarrassment and frustration and electric energy she had been trying to contain when he had happened upon her rehearsal in the schoolhouse unleashed in her lips on his. This was the kiss equivalent to a slate to the side of the head; Anne teaching Gilbert Blythe once and for all not to ever, ever humiliate her again.

Gilbert felt like he would have been knocked clean off of his feet if he hadn’t been holding onto this girl,his girl, the only girl, tightly. He felt her passion in the hard press of her lips to his, and he took his beating gladly.

When they broke apart, both of their chests were heaving. They locked eyes across the inches of space now between them, and Gilbert recognized that the all-consuming fire had left her eyes. He searched the large, grey orbs to try to decipher the feeling in them now, but she was suddenly a complete mystery to him.

What was she feeling? What was she thinking? The only coherent thought being shouted on a loop in his head was, “Kiss her again! Don’t let go! Kiss her again!”

Her fingers moved against his head (was she tousling the ends of his curls?), and her eyes, her enormous, shining eyes, moved once more to his lips, her head tilting to the side, almost as if she was thinking something that made her feel curious.

Gilbert froze entirely this time - stopped breathing, stopped thinking. He was caught in her spell and he no longer cared what happened to him. Let him die from lack of oxygen, right here, right now, before he move a single muscle and scare this wood nymph from his arms.

Anne drew her face close to his once again, and this time her lips met his with tenderness beyond measure. Her head tilted toward the other shoulder and she leaned her weight onto his chest. Her hands moved to the back of his head, drawing him even closer - it was this movement that brought the statue who was formerly Gilbert Blythe back to life.

His hands moved up the small of her back and held her close, his arms enclosing her entire frame. His lips, too, began to move. His kisses ranged from her wanting lips - first both, then top, then bottom, then bottom again, with a sucking-while-kissing movement that made her sigh sweetly, which made him groan softly, which made her grip him even closer - down her cheek and onto her jaw. He longed to kiss every inch of her beautiful, slender neck, and back again. He could have kissed all of her, forever.

This was the height of existence. Gilbert had no doubts about it. This was all he wanted, all that his ambition amounted to. He would win this woman’s love if it was the last thing he did.

He slowed his endearments as he moved back to her mouth, pressing his lips to hers sweetly, infusing every ounce of feeling he had within him into his final, tender kiss.

Their lips hovered close together for a breathless moment as they both opened their eyes slowly. Anne was the first to take a small step backward, her eyes locked on his as they each panted quietly in synchronized movements.

Gilbert’s hands slowly fell. He could feel their wanting - wanting to reach out, keep her close, never, ever let go - but he schooled their actions at last as they came to rest at his sides.

He opened his mouth to speak, to declare every word written upon his heart to her. To tell her that he loved her, had loved her, would continue to love her for all of his days. He opened his lips to tell her exactly what she meant to him, how desired and vital and loved - wholly and irrevocably loved - she was. To win her to him forever.

Gilbert took a deep breath, and as he pressed his own two lips together to form the first of the tidal wave of words he was about to pour over her…

Anne turned on her heel and ran away.

Chapter Text

Gilbert stood rooted to the spot for what felt like an interminable amount of time. In reality it was mere moments - just long enough, really, for the wild-eyed wood nymph that had just kissed him, and whom he had just kissed back… embraced… maybe even… oh goodness, had he sucked on her lip?!... and then ran away as fast as her legs could carry her to escape into the nearby trees.

Gilbert stood, a statue once more, as an instant replay of the last few minutes of his life ran through his mind.

Had she kissed him angrily? At first, certainly.

It seemed to Gilbert as though her passionate attack was driven by embarrassed frustration, meant somehow to convey her hatred of him and his smug smile and those gooey, romantic eyes that frequently caught her in their gaze. Surely they only looked at her that way only to tease and torment her life out.

But then…

Then things had… changed.

The statue made a minute movement and Gilbert closed his eyes, the better to relive every moment in all of its excruciatingly blissful glory. She had stopped after her first heated onslaught, and, for just a moment, she had looked at him with a new light in her brilliant grey eyes. They had been softer, curious somehow, and then…

Gilbert’s cheeks grew warm as he remembered her sweet, soft kiss. Then he recalled wrapping his arms around her torso - his forearms overlapping across each other, pulling her as tightly as was possible against his own strong chest. He remembered kissing her with abandon - kissing her lips, her cheek, her jaw…

His chest filled to its fullest extent, like a balloon just before bursting, and Gilbert had trouble remembering how to exhale. He wanted to reach up and touch his own lips; if only to make these memories seem more real and less like something he had dreamed up in his room at home, in those blissful twilight hours where he allowed himself to think about Anne and the fiery passion she brought to everything, including his very heart, but he couldn’t remember how to command his limbs any more.

When his thoughts brought him back to the moment that he felt her softly sigh against his face as he had drawn her lip between his, his eyes shot open.

It felt as though a trap-door had opened up in the pit of his stomach and caused his insides to fall straight down into his feet. Another second later, and he wanted the solid ground beneath his feet - the wooden schoolhouse stairway, the soft red dirt beneath it - to open up and swallow him whole; to fall into the center of the earth, and keep falling, forever. His shame was so intense and immediate, that his over-full chest popped, and the air left his lungs in an audible whoosh.

Moments before, he was floating miles above the earth, finally ready to confess his undying love for the warm and wanting creature in his arms.

Now, standing here more cold and alone than he ever had felt before, he knew that he had really and truly destroyed everything, maybe forever.

This feeling, in stark contrast to the feelings of moments before, when he felt so light and happy that he may very well have floated out to gather the moon and stars in his arms so he could bring them home - an offering for his goddess - with unfettered joy, was so dark and heavy that he wanted to lay down on the spot and mourn the loss of love and light forever.

Another interminable moment passed. He felt himself to be in the utter depths of despair, having briefly given-in to the darkness enveloping him. For one bleak instant, this pain reminded him of his father, his mother, his lost family, his utter aloneness on this earth, and he felt he might break apart from the searing emptiness inside of his chest.

Only one thought could keep him from giving in to this darkness: Anne.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t give in. At least not until he had apologized to Anne for his despicable behavior. He had taken what wasn’t his, had offended her honor and ideas of romance and possibly he had even brought back painful or frightening elements of her own past - the ones he didn’t know anything about, had only guessed at when he could see thoughts come over Anne that stole the spirit from her eyes and caused her to travel to a far-away place even as she stood stock still in the middle of Avonlea life all around her.

Imagining that he had caused her pain, opened her wounds, cut a new wound through him with a violence that his own fears and sadness couldn’t produce alone. He truly would never forgive himself.

Even if these moments - the very ones that were now torturing him - were the very best of his life. And probably always would be, now that he had lost her forever.

Before the misery could swallow him up again, he made his feet move, one in front of the other, in the direction Anne had gone. He would find her. He would make things right, even if it meant letting go of his fondest dreams forever.

______________________________________________________

It turns out that finding a small waif-of-a-girl - one whose light tread leaves no footprints, even in the muddy early spring ground, and who has spent the last three years making the forested hills and wide open fields of this corner of Prince Edward Island her formidable imagination’s playground - is quite difficult.

Gilbert wandered the woods, looking for clues and wracking his brain for any hints in his conversations with Anne that would help him find her. She had told him all about the Lake of Shining Waters and the White Way of Delight. She had mentioned how she had imagined things and places, but there were no clues in her stories and speeches to give him any idea of where these places actually exist, if they did at all.

He wandered long enough that he thought it perfectly reasonable for her to have gone home for dinner, and so he called at Green Gables.

Marilla answered the door, wiping her hands on her apron and pushing hair that had come loose from her bun off of her forehead with the back of her wrist.

“Well hello there, Gilbert. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Marilla asked with a polite smile.

“Hello Ms. Cuthbert. I’m very sorry to disturb you. I came by to see if I could speak with Anne for a few minutes?” Gilbert inquired quietly. The tension he felt came through in his voice and the tight set of his shoulders, and Marilla noticed.

“I’m sorry, Gilbert, but she isn’t home. She left early this morning in quite a state - said she was going to rehearse for the concert.”

The way that Gilbert’s shoulders slumped and his eyes glued themselves to the floor made Marilla feel anxious for a reason she couldn’t understand. Gilbert didn’t say anything, and so she kept talking, hoping to say something that would relieve whatever strife Gilbert was feeling.

“If you ask me, I think that waiting for the results of the Queens College entrance exam is driving her quite mad. I’m sure you’re feeling anxious for the results yourself. I hear that you are a very bright student, and have your heart set on medical school.”

Gilbert nodded, still not meeting her eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I’m certain that Anne will be very pleased with her exam results when they arrive - she is the best and brightest student in our class.”

Marilla smiled and nodded, and Gilbert began his retreat.

“If… when you see Anne, would you please tell her that I stopped by. Tell her… please tell her that I… I’m sorry - I’m being silly. I’ll leave you in peace. Have a pleasant afternoon, Miss Cuthbert.” Gilbert turned his back and descended the porch steps of Green Gables.

“Gilbert, wait.” Marilla said, following him to the edge of the porch. “Anne… lately Anne has taken much pleasure in telling Matthew and I about a good friend of hers that she enjoys studying and writing with, now that her story club is no more.”

A lump formed in Gilbert’s throat instantly - why was Marilla telling him about someone that Anne enjoyed spending time with? Was it… was she trying to tell him that Anne’s heart was already spoken for?

Marilla couldn’t help the smirk that formed on her lips as she finished her thought.Thinking about Anne never failed to bring some expression of mirth to Marilla’s face.

“She has described it as being ‘a great, gorgeous tree in the middle of a low field, just past the brook about a mile hence,’” she pointed east as she explained about Anne’s strange taste in companions, shaking her head slightly as her smirk grew more pronounced. “Apparently the ‘scope for imagination’ is particularly good from atop its branches. You may try looking for her there, if you’re… anxious… to speak with her today.” Marilla suggested.

Gilbert exhaled a soft breath - half laugh, half relieved exhale. “Anne really is something. Thank you, ma’am,” Gilbert’s mouth turned slightly up as he looked into Marilla’s eyes and nodded his head. “Good day to you,” he intoned.

Marilla went back inside of Green Gables, shaking her head as she closed the door behind her. She was no longer smirking, but was grateful to have some good, vigorous mopping of the kitchen floors and kneading of the bread that was rising on the counter ahead of her. She suddenly felt troubled, as though Gilbert’s troubles had found a new perch upon her shoulders.

What was it about the boy’s call that had worried her? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Once the mopping and kneading were done and she had puzzled through their exchange, she wasn’t any closer to knowing why she felt ill at ease…

Was it something… something in the way the boy said Anne’s name?

______________________________________________________

Gilbert followed Marilla’s instructions easily enough, jumping across the brook and passing through a field left fallow, that was filling up with bright grasses and wildflowers as spring shook off the gloom of winter at last. Gilbert paused to take in the sight of the flowering field, and inhaled deeply the scent of spring - a smell that instantly transported him to warm memories of barefooted excursions and picnics in the grass.

He bent low, deciding that it couldn’t hurt to bring Anne a bouquet of a few blossoms. He told himself there was only penitence in the gesture - not a hint of romance to be seen in his sharing a portion of mother nature’s beauty with the girl that he loved. He just stopped himself from holding his offering to his nose and inhaling deeply and placing a blossom his top button hole, convinced that these actions would make of his intentions more than an apology.

His pace slowed as the great and lonely tree came into his view. His heart was pounding, and not from the exercise from his brisk walk to this majestic topiary.

Anne was here. He knew it. He couldn’t see or hear anything to indicate her presence - only the quickening of his heart, the shortening of his breath.

His Anne was here - and he had found her just in time to let her go forever.

Gilbert Blythe forced himself to take a deep breath. He squared his shoulders, checked that his grip, suddenly tight in his anxiety, hadn’t crushed his delicate bouquet, and then, for the second time that day, forced his feet to move, one after another.

Chapter Text

As Gilbert approached the base of the great oak tree that stood in the middle of the bright spring meadow, he heard a sweet, high voice humming high above his head and knew he had not come in vain.

He wasn’t sure how to proceed, however. Should he call out and frighten the rare red bird from her perch? Should he climb to meet her, and risk scaring her away? Oh dear, perhaps he should not have chased her down at all.

Maybe it would be best if he just ran away now. Not away from this tree only, but away from Avonlea. Away from Canada. He could still become a doctor, but maybe one of Bush Medicine, instead of the kind Dr. Ward practiced, far, far away from here…

Alright, Blythe. That’s enough. You may be in love with the girl, but that’s no excuse to lose your nerve entirely here, Gilbert coached himself. And even if you did catch the next steamer out of here, you must apologize to Anne before you go. You would never forgive yourself if you didn’t.

Taking one deep, steadying breath, Gilbert leaned his shoulder into the trunk of the impressive old tree, then bent over to remove his socks and shoes. And then he began to climb.

The limbs of the tree were sparse at first, but, after hefting his weight up the first few branches mainly using his upper-arm strength, the ascent soon became easier. He looked up once he could no longer see the shape outline of individual leaves and rocks beneath him, searching for a hint of red among the budding leaves and tangling branches all around him.

He found her seated on a wide branch just a few feet above him, her back turned toward him, legs bare and feet dangling. She swung her legs idly as she hummed her little tune.

For the second time that day, Gilbert found himself silently watching this girl without her knowing it. He only allowed himself a moment - sure that she had seen or heard something of his approach - to sit still and observe her. He used that moment to observe the way her pale legs curved as they swung; the way her hair blew across her back.

Gilbert was not struck with the heat of his love for her again, but, instead, he felt a bone-deep calm steal through him. He had no idea what to say or do right now, had no idea how she was feeling or what the future held, and yet the peace he felt now - its warmth enveloping him body and soul - came anyway.

This new feeling, especially new in the presence of a certain passionate and temperamental red-head, gave him the confidence he needed to nimbly climb the last branch and seat himself next to her, their upper-arms lightly touching, his feet swinging in time with hers.

The view from her perch was spectacular. Gilbert felt he could see all of Avonlea from here - he could make out his farm, just over the crest where Green Gables lay, the untamed forest of birch trees and sugar maples to the left, and then the schoolhouse, where this crazy, bewildering adventure had begun with the girl sitting next to him.

The girl, who was still placidly humming to herself, had not commented on the sudden presence of the boy now seated beside her or changed in any material way since he had first spotted her.

This new equable Gilbert didn’t feel any particular desire to break the silence, to propel either of them into a conversation about what had taken place on the schoolhouse steps. In fact, this moment was so beautiful to him that he felt instinctively as though he would cherish its memory very nearly as much as he would those of the events at school earlier.

They sat in that fashion, with nothing but the sound of her errant humming, the breeze rustling the leaves in the branches around them, and the weight of companionable silence between them, and Gilbert couldn’t tell if time was passing quickly or slowly. For all he knew, time stood entirely still while he sat shoulder-to-shoulder, high above the earth, next to the girl he loved.

At some point Gilbert realized that she had stopped humming, and turned to find two bright, grey orbs fixed on his face. His breath caught for a moment and his heart picked up its pace, but the calm he had felt since approaching this ancient oak held him steady as he gazed back at her, unafraid for the first time of what she might see in his own brown eyes.

“Anne,” he said, his voice low and quiet, not wanting the sound of it to break the magical spell of this tree. He broke the electric connection between their eyes, allowing his gaze to fall onto his folded hands in his lap.

“Thank you for allowing me to come here. I… Anne, I’m so, so sorry. I’m not sure what happened… earlier… but I am sure that I didn’t behave as a gentleman. No, not that. It was worse than that, than my lack of decorum. Anne, I didn’t treat you with the -- I should have been more -- My feelings for you are such that I...”

Gilbert drew in a deep breath, feeling instantly ruffled and very much as though he would like to start this conversation over, or, better yet, go back to sitting in the eloquent silence once more with her. If only he hadn’t looked into her eyes - eyes that had haunted him for so long and pulled him from his calm reverie, throwing him into tumultuous feelings borne of many nights spent tossing and turning, trying to clear her from his mind and get some sleep.

A slender, white hand appeared in his field of vision, covering his own two hands as far as it could. His eyes darted back up to the face next to his, and paused as he found two lips that were upturned in a smirk - one whose owner was clearly trying to swallow it back down into a neutral expression. His eyes were drawn once again up to hers, the better to puzzle out the unexpected attitude of her lips - which were definitely closer to smiling than not now.

As he met the limpid grey eyes once more, he found that they, too, were crinkled around the edges in humor. Gilbert was entirely struck dumb by the confusion he felt seeing her there, so close to him, trying desperately not to actually laugh in his confounded face. Speechless though he was, he couldn’t help but smirk back at her - he would always be happy simply to find her happy.

“I’m sorry, Gilbert,” she smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry to say that I am not sorry at all, and I… I…” this time her speech was interrupted by a gentle laugh. “Oh, Gil. I’m sorry. It’s just the look on your face. You look so absolutely guilty! As though you had murdered someone and came to me to lay your grim confession at my feet and await my judgment on your eternal soul!” Anne was laughing in earnest now, but her eyes were soft, and they caressed his face knowingly.

Having lost his ability to speak simply by looking into those bright, teasing eyes, Gilbert now felt himself the statue once more, unable to do anything but bask in the light emanating from the Faerie Queen seated beside him.

Anne’s thumb moved in a soft, slow circle on the back of Gilbert’s hand, and quickly - and, once again, entirely of its own accord - the hand resting underneath moved itself to the top of her’s, grasping at the lifeline she was offering him. As Gilbert breathed in again, confounded at his own unfamiliar and impudent hand, he realized that hope had begun to swell within him. He had not invited it there, had thought the events of this afternoon had stamped out the last vestiges of hope he had left, but he felt it anyway, filling his chest with more than air as he continued to stare at her.

Having no idea what to say, he let his eyes fall back down to their piled hands. Perhaps he would be able to find the right words now that he had hope once more with him.

The waif next to him released a heavy, audible sigh as she leaned over and rested her head lightly on his shoulder. “I don’t know what it is about you and me. If I’m not losing my infamous, flaming red temper upon you with slates and… well, other… physical… assaults, then one or the other of us is saying something spectacularly stupid or careless or mean. Sometimes I feel positively haunted by you, Gilbert. Why is it that I find myself referring to you constantly, even when I am so careful never to mention your name? When I study, I picture your smug, self-satisfied smirking face to help myself stay focused, or I imagine crushing your in our exam scores, and getting to see that smirk finally wiped from your visage. But… why do I care at all, Gilbert? I don’t want to see you made unhappy. I don’t even bear any ill-will toward you -- truly, I don’t! There have been many a-time when I have wished we could be good chums; that we could actually help one another instead of always winding up foes...”

Gilbert felt Anne’s chest fill with air after her long, frantic monologue. She let it out in another loud sigh - almost a pouty huff, really - and she shook her head gently as if to clear it from her confounding thoughts.

“And then today… Oh, Gilbert, I surprised myself so thoroughly - which, I’m sure is nothing to how I must have surprised you! - and then you surprised me right back, and then… I’m truly not sorry, Gilbert, although I have sat here the entire afternoon trying to make myself feel sorry. I have told myself how wildly inappropriate I was to you and how horribly forward and absolutely feral you must find me, but, still, I don’t regret it. I suppose, now that I think on it, I am sorry about one thing. I am sorry that I ran away from you. But, you see, I simply had to leave, Gilbert. I had to run away because of how very, very much I wanted to stay. I wanted…”

Here she trailed off, and Gilbert stopped his own rapid breathing to make sure he caught every word of what she might say next. The hope that had swelled in his chest was now pounding like a drum in his ears, keeping time with his racing heartbeat.

“Gilbert, have you… ever… was that your first… kiss?” Anne lifted her head from Gilbert’s shoulder and looked him shyly in the eye as she finished her question.

She swallowed hard when she had finally gotten the last word out, and Gilbert’s eyes were momentarily drawn back to her gorgeous neck. Instantly his brain fired-off every thought he had ever had about that neck - the many, many times he had watched a blush spread across it enviously, longed to kiss or caress it, to hold the back of it in his palm and draw its owner closer to him, to brush her beautiful red hair behind it - and his eyes jumped back up to meet Anne’s before she could read his desires on his face. The color rose in her cheeks, and he could feel his own cheeks warming against the cool breeze.

GIlbert took a deep breath, determined to meet Anne’s open face with his own absolute honesty. “Yes… and no,” he answered.

Her eyebrows drew together and down and her lips pressed outward slightly, but she kept her eyes on his, determined to figure out whether he was making fun of her somehow.

Gilbert gave her a small, soft smile as he tried to indicate that he had more to say in answer to her question.

“That was my very first kiss, Anne. And my second, and third…” his smile crept into smirk territory. Gilbert had hoped to coax a smile from Anne, too, but he found her cheeks growing ever pinker, instead, and forced himself to keep talking.

“But, in a way, it wasn’t anywhere near my first kiss because… Anne,” here Gilbert paused just long enough to take the deepest breath he had ever taken in his life, summoning all of his calm and courage, readying himself to give Anne the honesty she deserved.

“I have spent the last several years wanting to kiss you. I hope you don’t find this impertinent, but I have worn out my imagination by planning it out in my mind - where we would be, what I would say, how I would win you to me.

“Sometimes you would be in the middle of a story about the Haunted Woods and the lonely dryad who lived there, and I would grab your lively face between my two rough hands and kiss you suddenly and fiercly, just because I couldn’t stand to not kiss you a moment longer. Sometimes it would be at the gate at Green Gables at dusk, just after I confessed my love to you - telling you that I have loved you from the moment you broke that slate over my head, and that I love you more every day that has passed since. Those times, I would kiss the back of your hand softly, and then your cheeks, your eyelids, your perfect nose, your lips the same. Never once did I imagine you grabbing my face and kissing me - which only goes to show how lacking my imagination is when compared with yours,” Gilbert teased.

Anne looked away first this time, shyly glancing back down to their hands. Gilbert forced himself to continue, knowing that he wouldn’t be at rest until the whole truth was known at last, consequences be damned.

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, I came here to apologize to you. I am sorry that I took advantage of your in a moment of… well, if not weakness, then fury, I suppose,” he chuckled softly to himself, while her face remained turned away. “I should not have kissed you back like that - I didn’t behave as a gentleman to you, and for that I am truly very sorry. But Anne… oh, my dear Anne-girl… if you only knew how I have longed to hold you in my arms. I didn’t mean to hurt you -- could never knowingly hurt you, darling girl. But you must now know the truth no matter the cost. I love you, Anne. I love your fiery temper and passionate impetuousness. I love your competitive spirit, your lively imagination, your astounding ability for empathy, your gentle heart. I love your ambition, Anne, and the way that every thing about you makes me want to be a better man. I have spent these last years doing everything within my power to be the kind of man that you could love back - to try to behave as your equal. My fondest hope and dream, Anne, is to be allowed to be there for you, side by side with you, as we walk through this life: Equals.”

She trembled slightly at his last word. Gilbert reached out a gentle hand, no longer able to speak without seeing her face. His calloused, farm-rough fingers reached out to her perfect, pointed chin, gripping it lightly and lifting her face to his. He looked into her shining eyes and lowered his voice as he made his final plea, determined to finish what he had started.

“I have so many dreams, Anne. I want to help farm my family’s land with Bash - and to see this town that I love grow to accept his family, now my family. I want to become a doctor and serve people in need - delivering babies and tending to the sick and elderly, bringing modern medicines and procedures to this corner of our island. Most of all, though, my dream is to live my life alongside you.” He was whispering now, his eyes burning as he tried to convey the truth of his words to her.

“All of my other dreams pale in comparison to this last, ephemeral dream. You are my dream, Anne. And if I could have you - not possess you or command you, Anne, but truly belong to you and you to me - I would want for nothing else as long as I lived.” The shine in Anne’s eyes had solidified into tears, which rolled silently down her cheeks, but she did not look away from Gilbert’s wide brown eyes as he poured his heart out to her. His eyes, too, grew wet, and by the end of his impassioned speech they had overflowed their banks.

Gilbert moved his hand from Anne’s trembling chin, caressing her cheek as he wiped away a tear with his thumb. His eyes didn’t move from hers as he leaned slowly toward her, holding his breath against fear of a rebuke. When none was forthcoming he closed both his eyes and the last inches between them and kissed her lips with all of the gentle ardour he held for her.

Time did not slow down for this kiss - Gilbert did not have to school his unruly hands or emotions - as he simply pressed his lips against hers, imparting every last bit of passion and pleading onto the soft, perfect lips of the girl he loved. When their lips parted, neither party was panting or raging, and he tasted the salt from their tears on his lips.

Gilbert, unwilling to go far from her yet, closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers, sighing in happy resignation.

It was done now. He had told Anne everything, shown her the depth of his feelings for her. Now it was out of his hands.

His eyes snapped open when he felt a shaky breath exhaled onto his face. He inhaled instinctively, and he wondered at the scent of her - an enchanting perfume of pine and flowers and earth - as his eyes searched her face.

It didn’t seem as though her tears had slowed in the moments since he had looked at her last, but her face had transformed despite the drops that continued to roll down her cheeks. Her breathing had become more rapid, and the corners of her lips were turned up once more. She looked wonderingly into Gilbert’s searching eyes.

The upturn grew more pronounced, and Gilbert heard her laugh - one short, sharp exhale.

The hope that filled him now felt like too much - like a raging waterfall pouring out of his pounding heart into his veins, drowning him from the inside in a tidal wave of anticipation. His pulse was frantic and his mouth ran dry. His body didn’t know how to react, so stillness was once again his only recourse.

Anne blinked slowly, the last few tears gathering on her dark eyelashes and falling like translucent pearls onto her cheeks. Then she opened her eyes once more, and dawn broke over her face. The force of her brilliant smile nearly knocked Gilbert out of the tree, and once again he found himself smiling back at her for no other reason than that she was happy.

It was all he wanted in the world - Anne close to him and effervescently happy.

“You forgot something, Gil,” Anne whispered against his face, their foreheads still pressed together.

Gilbert sat back, confusion dimming his happiness momentarily. What had he forgotten? How had he made a mess of this once again? Would he ever get things right when it came to Anne?!

Anne laughed again, the sound bubbling up and out of her involuntarily at the look on his face. And then she grabbed that face- much as she had that morning on the steps of the schoolhouse, but with infinitely more tenderness.

As she held it, she whispered with a teasing lilt in her voice, “You forgot,” here she paused to tenderly kiss his right cheek, “to ask,” then his left cheek, “whether I,” here she softly kissed the tip of his nose, “would like,” one eyelid was herein gently kissed, “to marry,” and then the other in a similar fashion; and then Anne moved her mouth slowly back down, touched her lips with his as lightly as a feather, “you.”

As Anne spoke, happiness set Gilbert alight with the violence of a flamethrower. He burned as he sat motionless, being kissed gently, just as he had imagined kissing her. The fire spread and consumed, and with the final touch of her lips on his, the final word whispered there, Gilbert felt himself razed to the ground.

Then he took a shuddering breath in, and felt himself rising from the ashes of his former life, a phoenix reborn from the love of this spectacular, one and only girl.

His face broke open in the happiest, goofiest grin that had ever crossed it as his hands wound themselves around her waist and pulled her body toward him. He pressed his forehead into hers once more as his whole frame shook with gleeful, silent laughter. She wound up perched upon his lap, his back to the trunk of the tree and her arms around his neck as they laughed together, both completely incredulous and wildly happy and recklessly entangled.

When the gleeful laughter subsided, Gilbert began kissing every part of her he could reach - cheeks, eyes, nose, earlobes, neck - oh, to kiss Anne’s gorgeous, delicious neck at last! - her palms, each blessed fingertip, her lips, her lips, her lips…

Dusk was slowly turning to nightfall when they left their heavenly perch and began to descend once more into the world of mortals. Neither one of them had eaten a thing since breakfast, and it was their stomachs, more than their surroundings, that reminded them that they belonged to the world below: their borrowed time in paradise was up.

But, as Gilbert walked Anne home with nothing but the light of the full moon above them to guide them on their way, he felt as though he would always remain in this little piece of paradise, so long as he held her hand in his.

As they approached the gate at Green Gables, they heard someone shouting Anne’s name. They turned to find Diana racing up the lane towards them. She didn’t stop running until she was almost directly on top of them - Anne let go of Gilbert’s hand so she could use both of hers to steady Diana, holding her shoulders and peering into her face with a look of wild concern.

“Diana! Diana, what is it?!” Anne asked the panting girl in her hands.

Diana forced each word out in between sharp intakes of air, “ Anne… Queens… Exam… Results…” The color drained from Anne’s face, and Diana gripped her shoulders right back, so that each girl appeared to be holding the other upright.

Diana took one last deep breath, and put her friend out of her incredibly unnecessary misery. “Anne, you and Gilbert came in tied for first place!”

Anne’s mouth popped open into a perfect pink O, and Gilbert, leaning against the nearby fence, couldn’t stop himself laughing at the dumbstruck look on her face. Oh, how he loved that face.

Anne turned to him, a slow and brilliant smile spreading across her face. She ran into his arms, and he wound his all of the way around her torso, picking her up and spinning her a few times, trying to believe his luck at this perfect, perfect day.

When he set her down, he pulled back to look at her beaming face. “Equals,” he said, smiling tenderly at her, and then he couldn’t keep himself from giving her one more exuberant, bliss-filled kiss.

The kiss was ended quickly, however, when they were startled apart by a loud thunking noise.

They spun around quickly to find that Diana Barry had fainted straight away. After rushing to her side and rousing her gently, Diana began to laugh rather maniacally. Gilbert’s turned quickly to look at Anne, concerned for the sanity of her bosom friend. He found Anne laughing along with Diana, and shook his head in amusement. He couldn’t know that this particular kind of laughter would always remind Anne of a rather specific, and rather drunken, afternoon she had spent with Diana at Green Gables.

“Diana, darling,” Anne breathed. “Diana, are you alright?”

After a few attempts to speak, which were ended by more violent shakings of laughter, Diana took a deep breath in, gasping, “Oh, I knew it, Anne. Just wait until I tell Cole! Please don’t write him - let’s see his face in person when he hears what I just saw!”

Here she fell back laughing again, and Anne playfully swatted at her arm. Gilbert had absolutely no idea what was happening, but he was enjoying seeing Diana undone in her mirth for once - she was always so proper and polite around him, but he suspected she was wilder than he had ever been allowed to see, seeing as she was his own untamed beloved’s best friend.

Anne stood with mock haughtiness, brushing at her skirts and saying, with her perfect little nose high in the air, “Diana Barry, I have no idea what you are talking about. Gilbert was merely walking me home. Good evening, dear friend.” Here she held out her arm stiffly to Gilbert, and left Diana sitting against the fence post, trying to control her gleeful laughter.

“Wait!” Diana shouted from her patch of earth. “Wait! Please, let me come with you. My account to Cole will be ever more satisfying if I can tell him all about her face when she sees the two of you finally mooning at one another instead of scowling! Please!”

Gilbert paused with Anne, waiting for Diana to join their merry party up to Green Gables. It is possible that a small part of Gilbert was all too happy to have some backup when approaching the formidable porch of Anne’s home, and its infinitely more formidable mistress. Not that Gilbert would ever admit to such thoughts aloud.

He did, however, take the opportunity of Diana slowly standing and brushing off her dress and breathing deeply, to lean his shoulder into Anne’s, her arm still resting lightly on his, and whisper to her, “Anne, I almost forgot!”

She turned her moon-bright eyes to his once more, mirth and tenderness and longing and love mixed in them and shining up to him, and a grin broke across Gilbert’s face like dawn over the mountaintops as he said the words he had dreamed of speaking as often as he had dreamed up ways to kiss the woman on his arm.

“Will you marry me?”