A/N: Alright, this story has been rotting away on my hard drive for eons, one of those stories destined to rot away. Originally, I sat down at my computer, determined to write that elusive Anne/Gilbert oneshot that I've been meaning to write since I posted The Sound of an Angel, but it turned into a Walter/Una story—and a very bad one, at that. I wasn't happy with it. The dialogue seemed forced and unrealistic, things that neither Walter nor Una would ever say, and I couldn't think of anything better. Then, the other day, I was doing logarithms, and it just came to me! Anyway, here it is!

— A Robin's Song —

By Brianna Fay

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Walter Blythe had never known a life of hardship and pain, but there was always an aching, melancholy undertone in his handsome features that people seldom noticed. His parents loved him—his mother was the kindest, most wonderful mother a boy could ask for, and his father was good, practical man. Together they made the finest of parents, providing wonderfully for their large brood.

Walter was a man of insight; he was introverted and quiet, enjoying the company of the trees, their leaves rustling together in the wind, and the sky, vast and endless, above him. To Walter, these items were what life was made of. One could not have a truly meaningful life if they did not stop and appreciate nature.

For all of Walter's life, he had fancied Faith Meredith, one of the Manse children. She had spent many a day in Rainbow Valley with her siblings and his, but Walter had never spoken of his admiration to her, for she belonged to his brother, Jem. He knew she was better suited for Jem, as well, but that didn't quell his adoration.

Una Meredith was Faith's sister. She was quiet and kind, but oftentimes she took a backseat to her vociferous older sister. Walter, who had always been ardently admiring the elder Meredith girl, hardly noticed Una—sure, he talked to her, and he had enjoyed many days with her, but he had seldom looked at her in the way he looked at Faith.

Una had always harbored secret feelings for Walter. She knew the feelings she felt for Walter were different from the feelings she felt for any other person because she thought he was the greatest, most handsome, most wonderful boy she had ever met. She had never felt that way about Jem, or any other boy for that matter. The worst part, for Una, was the fact that Walter fancied her sister. She saw the way Walter looked at Faith and compared it to the way he looked her, and she could see the difference. It hurt her, but she could see it.

Walter and Una were alike in that aspect; neither of them could confess their feelings. Perhaps, if they had, the two of them could have moved on quicker, but no one will ever know.

The Great War broke out in the summer of 1914. Walter was recovering from an illness that prevented him from enlisting and heading off to Europe. Una was thankful for this, as she didn't want Walter to become just another name, another soldier, marching off to his death abroad. She knew it was selfish—her country needed him more than she did—but her love for Walter was only increasing by day and she couldn't bear to lose his cherished friendship, not when it seemed he was finally opening up to her.

Many years later, a much older Una would look back upon one winter day she had spent with Walter walking in a snow-covered park in the early days of 1915. It was one of the happier memories she held from the war.

"Una," Walter had called to her as she walked by. She had seen him, that was certain, but she had chosen to continue on her own path. Talking to Walter would only deepen the feelings that she held for him, the ones she had been trying to overcome. Now that he had seen her though, she turned around slowly. He wasn't looking at her, but past her, a far-off appearance in his stunning eyes.

"How are you?" he asked. His gaze was still behind her, but the way he spoke captivated Una and she knew he was speaking only to her.

Una smiled slightly. "I've been better, Walter," she told him honestly. A sudden gust of wind picked up, causing a strand of hair to blow into her face. Una quickly pushed it aside. "And how are you doing?"

"Not well." His lips tried to form a smile, but it faltered, as though he didn't have the energy to shape a full one.

Una pursed her lips together and sighed. She had hoped for more information in his answer. Walter clearly was not well, that much was obvious, so he should've at least done the courtesy of explaining why.

Still, she smiled and politely said, "It was nice to see you again, Walter. I better be going. Goodbye." Una smiled sweetly, reassuringly, and brought her hand up to wave.

That was when Walter's gaze snapped to her own, startling her so much that she let out a small gasp. It was sharp and fierce, not the broken gaze she had been seeing from him since the war started. And—and it warmed her heart.

"Do you really have to go?" Walter asked her, taking a step closer. Una looked up at him, her eyes questioning. "I was wondering if you'd like to go for a walk."

Una smiled an infectious smile, and for a moment, it made Walter feel something close to happiness. "I would love that," she told him quietly.

And so they started on their stroll. Being quiet folks, none of them said much. It was the end of winter, though, and snow was still on the ground and in the trees, creating a crystal blanket over the world which seemed to do all the talking for both Una and Walter.

Finally, Walter spoke up. "I'm not sick," he said, although it was tinged with a hint of sadness. Una couldn't quite figure it out—why should he be sad if he wasn't sick? "At least, I'm not sick anymore. I am perfectly fit."

Una didn't say anything, but she didn't feel as though she needed to. Walter did not seem to mind the sudden silence either.

"Why, I'm as healthy as any other lad," he continued after a while. "I could enlist right now, I'm that healthy. But I can't bring myself to do it."

In the distance, a lone bird chirped. It echoed throughout the tiny park, and Walter's ears perked up that the sound. "It's a Robin." He cast his gaze towards the sky, up in the bare branches up at the tree. Una stopped walking, as did he. "Do you see it? It's right there, in that tree."

Una followed his gaze until she found a tiny brown bird with a corpulent orange belly sitting in a tree, seeming to star at the two of them. He let out another chirp. "I see it."

"The Robin symbolizes the beginning of spring," Walter told her. Una nodded; she knew this. "Spring is a chance to start everything anew, Una. It's the rebirth of everything. Soon, the snow will melt and the trees and flowers will begin to blossom. Do you know there are flowers in the battlefields of Europe? Poppies—millions of them. How is it possible that something so beautiful can bloom in the midst of such horror?"

It was meant as a rhetoric question, so Una did not answer. However, the Robin, sitting in the tree, felt the need to answer. His belly puffed up, ruffling his stomach feathers, as though he were about to sing a song. When he opened his beak and let his music out, he didn't stop. He created a song so intricate, so beautiful and complex, that Walter and Una both paused to fully take it in.

As the notes of the Robin's song faded away, Walter turned to Una, his face grave. "I'll go one day, Una," he said sadly, although it was with conviction.

"Go where?" Una asked, although she already knew the answer. It was the answer she had been dreading.

"I'll go fight, one day. I'll just be one of many brave young men in khaki, going off to fight the Germans in Europe. Except, I won't be brave. Una, I'm scared."

Una's eyes softened as she reached and placed a comforting hand on Walter's shoulder. "Walter, everyone's scared."

"They all say that, Una," he replied, "but they aren't scared like I am. I feel differently, Una. I know I do. I know I'll have to go one day, Una—but the pain, the blood—I won't be able to handle it, Una. For me, the world will never be the same again."

"Walter. . ."

"I just. . ." Walter was struggling for words, something that he never did. But when it came to the war—the one thing he was truly afraid of—he couldn't describe it. War, above all other things, transcended description. Walter Blythe knew this better than anyone. "I don't—I don't want to come back from the war and hear that Robin's song differently. I want it to stay as it is right now, forever."

"Walter. . ." Una began, but the words she had been about to say died on her lips as she looked at Walter's face. He needed reassurance, although Una hadn't a clue of what he was going through. "It will always stay that way, as long as you think of it the same." A thoughtful pause, and then Una added, "No matter what happens in the world."

"Thank you," he sighed, his eyes looking at her carefully. Something in Una's stomach fluttered, for he was looking at her in a different way—something akin to the way he had gazed at Faith for so many years. "I should be going now."

"As should I," Una agreed. She couldn't help the smile of hope that was kindled on her face as she asked, "I'll see you sometime soon, won't I?"

And Walter smiled back, a wonderful smile. It was the smile he wore when Una remembered him as a young boy, sitting in Rainbow Valley, imagining wonderful things. "Of course," he replied. He leaned down a little, making his raven head even with Una's, and grazed his lips softly to her cheek, a parting gift, before he stood erect once more. "Goodbye."

He turned and left after that, but Una knew that something had changed between her and Walter that winter day. Many years later, a much older Una Meredith would look back on that day, a few traces of tears on her wrinkled cheeks, worn by the many years of life she had led, and remember the dashing young man who would always remain immortal to her.

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