Chapter 6….

Anne looked with a frozen face back at Gilbert in the dimness, sure she had misheard. "What did you say?"

He folded his arms against his knees, and looked down at them studiously. "I'm not going back to Redmond."

Anne rose to her knees, searching for some way to respond to this unexpected announcement.

"You can't just do that-" she gasped, her eyes wide and frightened.

"Actually, I can." he said slowly. "Would you like to hear why?" He watched her jaw and fists clench, and she sat back on her heels to look at him. Anne raised her eyebrows, and he took that as invitation enough.

"I've been doing rather well at Redmond lately, as you might imagine with several extra hours of study each night." he said, self mockingly. "And that attracted some attention from the Chancellor of the university."

Anne looked at him, speechless.

"There was a scholarship available for one applicant to study at Oxford for a year. I- I won it."

Anne dropped to the floor. "But- but how? I never even heard that being announced-" she said confusedly.

"It's only for the science faculty. Information is only given out at the Dean's discretion."

"In England." she whispered, her eyes glassy.

He nodded.

"I only just heard back from them a week ago."

Anne got to her feet as if sleepwalking. She went to the door and opened it to the sound of pouring rain, causing Gilbert to spring up. "Anne, you can't go out there now-" he said sharply, only to see her stop in the entryway.

"I'm not-" she mumbled. "I just needed air-". She stood there for a moment, taking long, deep breaths. He closed the door firmly, and she turned to him. Her head came up, and for a moment he nearly stepped back, at the rage he saw on her face.

"You would never have told me if we hadn't been stuck here," she said, her voice shaking. "You would have let me worry- you would have vanished without ever letting me know." Her voice rose in an unbearable anguish. "Of all of the things I have seen that show me how little you value me, this is the worst, the most cruel, hurtful-" she choked and turned from him, her body shaking with great sobs.

Gilbert stood helplessly, watching her fall apart and not knowing how to act. Feeling like the worst of fools, he put his arms around her. She fought his hold for a moment, but when he only held her tighter, she slumped against him, and cried in his arms as she never had before. Her knees gave way, and he sank to the floor with her holding her tightly, tears streaming down his own cheeks. For long minutes they sat there together, consumed in their grief.

When her crying had subsided a little, he spoke to her softly. "Anne, I'm going because I have to. I can't just keep pretending that I've been alright. I'm- I'm not. There's a good chance for me to start again there. And it's only a year."

She broke away from him then. "Redmond was your dream."

"I know it was."

"Then stay." she pleaded desperately.

"Anne, I can't."

Fresh tears fell now, and she turned back to him. "Then I'll leave."

"No." he said impatiently. "Anne, I will complete my degree at Oxford; for Pete's sake, this is not a bad opportunity. Your life is in Kingsport now. You need to live it."

She began to laugh, her voice bitter. "Gilbert, I at least needed to see you. To know that you were alright. I needed, even at a distance, to know that you were happy, that you were working on the things you wanted."

"I am."

"But then I wanted to see you too," she added recklessly. "Because I missed you- and even if you were not speaking to me, at least I still had that."

Gilbert stood, dumbfounded. "Anne, I- I'm sorry. I didn't think you cared."

"And bravo for me." she said flatly, bringing a reluctant smile to his mouth. She sat in front of the fire, cross-legged as she used to do in the old days. She stretched her shoulders and arms out and gave him the merest glance when he sat beside her.

"What a mess." he muttered rubbing his eyes wearily. She nodded, silently, and then to his surprise, she snorted.

"Makes the "carrots" incident seem tame, really."

Gilbert smiled, and there was a silence in the darkened room again. "I never thought about what it would be like for you to not know where I was," he said, his voice sombre. "That was thoughtless, and I'm sorry."

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't care?" Anne said, her voice tight. He sighed, but gave a short nod. Anne's eyes were stinging, and she shrank into herself to try and keep her pain hidden. She wrapped her skirts tightly around her legs, shivering at the draught coming across the bare, worn floorboards. It was with an effort that she continued.

"What of Christine?" she said in a neutral voice. "I imagine she won't wish you to go."

"Probably not." he said with a shrug.

"She is- very beautiful," Anne said slowly.

"Oh yes, very beautiful." he said in a strange voice. "Look, I don't know why you are bringing her up."

Anne let out a choked cry at this. "Remember, Gilbert, I had to watch you form an attachment too. When you proposed I lost you- and then I had to see someone else in your world. And it had to be someone who outclasses me on every level."

Gilbert threw his hands up in frustration. "Why should it even matter? You didn't want me!" he almost shouted. "And how long was it until Roy showed up? Don't you think that hurt me to see how easily I was replaced?"

Anne's grey-green eyes were sparkling dangerously. "He never replaced you. You- you took yourself away- you wouldn't listen to me, you kept pushing- you never even gave me a choice-" she said, her voice breaking.

Gilbert slammed his fist onto the ground, and she shrank back, startled. Compressing his lips to try and control himself, his voice shook. "Don't you think I know that?" he said tightly. "You think I haven't regretted that every moment since that day? Anne, we went from two people who found every secret and hidden place in Avonlea together, who shared everything, to you being afraid to be alone with me. Did you think that wouldn't hurt? That started long before I proposed. And you kept pushing me away."

"Gilbert, I was scared-"

"What do you think I was? I was losing you and I panicked. You will never know how much I regret speaking. I took a gamble, and I lost what little of you I had." He then laughed mirthlessly. "Of course Roy would still have come- and I still would have failed."

Anne sat up then, her eyes scorching. "Gilbert, when did I ever go looking for someone else when we were together?" she said, her voice shaking. "When I had your friendship I had everything I wanted. I wasn't looking for anything else. And you act as if I never cared- I told you then, that there was no one I cared about more. But my friendship wasn't enough for you and so I lost everything."

Gilbert's head fell on outstretched arms, and there was a brief silence.

"So did I." he said, defeated.

Anne sat back down, exhausted. "Roy- just happened. I didn't plan it, and I was- lonely." she finished.

Gilbert picked up a shard of wood from beside him, and deliberately broke it into pieces. "I was too. I suppose that's where Christine came in." he said slowly.

To Anne's utter bewilderment at that moment, he tossed the pieces away and reached up to the nearby desk. He pulled the slate containing the remaining wedding cake onto the floor next to them.

"You can eat at a time like this?" she asked him weakly.

He shrugged. "Call it a midnight feast. I'm hungry," he said. "Shouting really builds up an appetite." He then offered some to Anne, who broke off a small piece with a wry smile. The wind howled around the eaves of the building, sending spatters of rain across the nearby windows. Gilbert saw Anne's head raise at the sound. "It's alright, the windows will hold." Her shoulders dropped in relief. "So is there anything else we need to yell at each other about?" he asked, with the shadow of his old grin in place. "Now's the time."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll keep thinking."

He chuckled, and then his face became fixed. "Does he really make you happy?" he asked slowly.

Anne froze, not having anticipated this question. The silence lengthened in the room, and Gilbert turned to poke another piece of wood into the small stove. When he eventually turned, she was looking at him with huge eyes, unable to say anything. Where was the small yes that should be flying to her lips? Was the schoolroom bewitched, that she should be unable to answer so simple a question? When Gilbert looked squarely at her, she recoiled, tucking her feet under her now badly crumpled skirt.

"I don't know what you mean." she whispered.

"I'm not just asking because this is my last chance to do so. I'm asking because whenever I've seen you, at classes or at social events, all I see is how calm and composed you look. All the time. You don't laugh, you don't show any expression at all. That's not the Anne Shirley I knew."

"Maybe that is me now." she said, her voice distant.

He sighed dejectedly, pushing his fingers through his hair. "Does he ever make you laugh? Has he- ever seen you get angry? Or does he know what you're like when something crushes you?" he asked. "Does he understand what this island means to you, or how hard you worked to get where you are?"

"He doesn't need to see all those things." she said, desperately.

He suddenly looked at her for a long minute, his eyes suspicious. "Anne, those things are important because they are a part of you- if he doesn't see that side of you, how can he know you? Do you not trust him?"

"What makes you think this is about trust?" Anne said, incensed.

"Anne, it's you. Of course it's about trust." he said flatly. "And you don't need to defend that to me, I know why you find it hard. Does he?" he said, his hazel eyes seeming to gaze straight into those of her younger self. The easy lie that would bring an end to this conversation would not leave her mouth, and she struggled in vain to close the doors to her insecurities that he was opening.

"Gilbert, you don't need to concern yourself-"

"Anne, tell me you told him about your childhood." he said quietly. Her silence was all the answer he needed. "Roy doesn't know anything, does he?"

She closed her eyes, beaten.

"Anne-" he said horrified, his voice cracking under the strain.

"You don't understand, Gilbert," she said wildly. "You come from a family. You are a Blythe, you have a name to carry, a history to confer on someone. I have nothing. I have my own accomplishments, and that is all. Roy knows that I was adopted by Matthew and Marilla when I was eleven. That was all he needed to hear. He never asked anything else. The eleven years of shame and misery, that is mine alone to carry. No one can understand that. It only counts against me, it counted against me even here in Avonlea, if you remember. Don't you understand that it still does, anywhere I go?"

His eyes were blazing. "Is this him?" he said, angrier than she had ever seen him. "Is this how he makes you see yourself? To make you think that because your childhood was stolen from you, that you are worth less than he is? You never used to doubt yourself, you never used to think it mattered. Anne, if this is what he makes you think, he's not worth you." he said savagely.

"Gil, I don't tell anyone about that side of my life!" she said defeated, and then he turned to her, his voice low and intense.

"You told me."

"Because I trusted you." she whispered.

He looked into her distressed eyes for a long moment and then turned away, his heart breaking. "Anne, you deserve better than that. Don't you get it? Don't you see that you make people come alive just by being yourself? Look how you brought Matthew and Marilla to life. Everywhere you go you bring out the best in people- you are the gift. If he doesn't understand that, then he doesn't really love you." he said bluntly. "And I don't think you love him either."

Anne let out a choked cry.

"And maybe it's not for me to say." he stated. "But I loved you for half my life, so I want to know that you will be happy." He stood up again and began to pace across the floor. "If you really loved each other, I should have been able to feel it." he said suddenly, his voice passionate. "It should be tangible, palpable, and make everyone in the room uncomfortable- but it's not. Oh, I believed it at first, I really thought it was there and it nearly killed me. But I don't buy it now. You know who did have that? You and me." Anne looked up at him, speechless.

"Everyone talking about us, walking on tiptoes and giving us a wide berth because it made them so uncomfortable. You know that it happened. And I think that's what scared you more than anything." he said directly.

She shrank into herself, her hands on aching temples. "Gilbert, you shouldn't be saying this." she begged him.

"Well, this is the only chance I'll have." he said simply. "Someone needs to tell you the truth. And if you remember correctly, that's one of the things I always did for you." He walked to the window and looked out into the blackness. "You deserve better than this, Anne."

Anne let out a cry of frustration. "Gilbert, how do you know all love is meant to look the same? How do you know that there is only one way that works, and that all the rest don't?"

He turned to her then. "Anne, if you could choose between the friendship we had, and what you have now with him, what would you choose?" His eyes looked into hers unflinchingly, and he saw the answer on her face before she lifted her face and spoke shakily.

"You know what I would choose. But you took that choice away from me."

"And doesn't that tell you something about the way you view him?" he demanded.

"Gilbert, we were best friends." she imploringly. "Of course you saw those things in me, you knew everything about me. This- this isn't the same."

"No." he said, with a strange gleam in his eye. "I don't buy it. He should not only know everything about you, he should love everything about you. Even the bits that hurt him. He should be willing to give his life to love you all his days, or it's not enough." He let out a long breath, and there was silence in the classroom for a time. Eventually he came back to the rug to sit down, this time choosing his words with great care. "Anne, I won't presume to speak for you. I don't have that right. But you have to know that I- I loved you with everything in me. I would have given anything to keep you safe. And I want to know that he really cares for you that much- that you will be happy with him."

Anne looked back at him, unable to speak a word. His sincerity she couldn't deny- and his words she couldn't argue. He looked into her eyes for a moment, seeming to understand the words she would not say. He leaned over to brush the hair from her forehead, and for a moment her eyes closed at his gentle touch. The moment that seemed charged with a curious intensity- with something like regret, and with words neither of them could say.

"I'm going to miss you, Carrots." Gilbert said softly.

No more was said that night. When they had been silent for some time, Anne curled up on the rug, her head pillowed in the satchel she had carried. Gilbert covered her with the blanket and lay down next to the fireplace, a long deep sigh escaping him. Sleep finally overtook them both, and the gentle sound of rain lulled them into unconsciousness.

Anne was the first to awaken just before sunrise. She tiptoed to the window and looked out into a rain-washed landscape, where there were no more clouds in the gradually lightening sky. She walked around the room softly picking up their belongings and eventually heard Gilbert stirring in front of the now cold fire. She couldn't help but smile at the groan that left him as he stood up slowly.

"I think I've reached the point where I'm too old to sleep on the floor." he said, in a raspy voice that made Anne's face heat, for no reason she could fathom. She shook her head confusedly. What on earth was the matter with her?

He looked through misted up windows as she had, commenting that the paths should be clear now. Together they straightened the schoolroom to its previous condition, erasing the traces their presence had left. When they were done both of them stood on the threshold with bags in hand; Anne took one last look at the room, and then locked it behind her.

Exhaustion was on both of their faces, as they silently walked through the aftermath of the storm. Great branches had been torn from nearby trees, and the path was muddy and covered with debris. Wordlessly Gilbert extended his hand to help her through the bogged sections of the forest, and he held onto it until they reached the crossroads halfway between Green Gables and the Blythe farm.

Many times they had stopped here to talk, to say goodbye without the scrutiny of either household. Many times they had picnicked under the birch trees that lined the small intersection. As the sun continued to rise over the horizon, they looked at the destruction of all but one of the smallest trees. It stood amongst the torn branches, and Anne ran her hand over the little tree, its white bark marked by violent blows from the bigger trees.

Eventually, Gilbert turned towards Anne.

"Well, we didn't kill each other." he said.

"No." she whispered. Her eyes were on his face, watching him focus on his mud-splattered shoes with apparent interest. There was so much she wanted to say to him- and all of it was impossible. She watched him clear his throat again.

"I'm glad I got a chance to tell you before I went today. About Oxford." he said slowly.

Anne nodded, finding it difficult to speak. "Can you- would you let me know that you arrived there safely?" she said, with lips that were suddenly dry.

He nodded. The silence seemed to thicken around them, and Anne could already feel the anguish of another goodbye. Suddenly she understood why Gilbert had not wanted another day- she realised with painful clarity that she couldn't go through this again either. His eyes were dry, but on his face she could read his grief. She tried to hold back her tears, and impulsively she reached to hug him. Gilbert's arms came around her tightly, and the hot tears that fell from her cheeks soaked into his collar. When it didn't feel as if either one of them would let go, Anne made herself move back from him slightly.

"I'll miss you, Anne." he whispered brokenly; and as another tear fell from her closed eyelids, she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his gently, longingly. Then she pulled herself from his arms and ran along the pathways that they would share no more.