As much as Diane loved to give her teasing smiles about it and as much as Anne stubbornly refused any feeling towards and about Gilbert Blythe, she had to admit that walking home with him was her favorite part of her day.
Not that she would ever let him know such a thing. No, she'd never tell. Although, Anne pretty sure he already has a clue, with the way he waits for her after school, day after day without fail.
He's wearing that soft smile today, the one that Anne finds herself subtly melting at every time it's sent her way. He's been looking at her like that more often than not and Anne has to consciously stop herself from indulging in its possible meaning. She only smiles in response and he offers to take her books and just like that, they're off.
They recount the school day's events and laugh about when Gilbert corrected Mr. Phillips and how Billy was admonished for answering a question wrong that Anne got easily.
Anne is so busy making sure to keep Gilbert's cheeks rosy from laughter that she doesn't notice the root coming up out of the forest floor until she's pitching forward. She flails a bit, one arm catching on the ribbon in her hair and the other on Gilbert's hand but it's too late.
She hits the ground with a thud and feel mud splash onto her skirts.
"Anne! Are you alright?" Gilbert asked, reaching down to offer her a hand up.
Anne groaned and nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet. "I'm alright, just embarrassed-"
Her eyes swung down to the ground that she'd just got up from and caught onto a bit of blue. Her ribbon was lying there; its color dulled from the mud and grass that surrounded it.
She stiffened and before she knew it, she was in the throws of a grey coated memory.
Ms. Hammond was the one to give her the gift.
They were short and dirty and most likely had been ripped from a ruined piece of cloth. But they were hers. They were given for keeping Anne's hair back- purely for practical purposes- but Anne couldn't help imagine that she was winning into their good graces.
She wore them proudly, as if they were one of those lace covered bows she often heard girls in the asylum swooning over.
She took pride in her two resulting braids and always took care to safely store the 'ribbons' when they weren't in use. But one day, she woke to Mrs. Hammond's screeching and the baby crying and Anne realized that one of the children took her ribbon and torn it apart- not that it took much effort, the decaying fabric successfully holding Anne's hair came as a shock to everyone.
She was being yanked out of bed before she could rub the sleep from her tired eyes and was thrown out into the yard with the sharp crack of a belt not far behind.
...
"Anne-" Gilbert reaches out slowly and gingerly touches her elbow. The girl flinches and turns away from the dirtied ribbon with a stricken look in her eyes.
Gilbert stutters a bit, Anne's steamrolled expression making him feel like the ground beneath him is gone.
He takes care not to touch her and attempts not to crowd her but the worry he feels for her is stifling. Fortunately, her eyes clear a bit, she swallows heavily and clutches at Gilbert's hovering hand.
"Anne-"
"I'm sorry-" She whispers frantically, sounding a bit choked. "I'm sorry, I just- I'm-"
Tears swell in her grey-blue eyes and Gilbert's chest squeezes. He can't stop himself from pulling her flush against his body, from wrapping her up in his arms, from whispering soothing words into her ears.
He waits until she's not shaking anymore and her tears have passed before slowly letting her go. He wants to keep holding her, he realizes, to comfort her whenever and however she needs.
She takes a deep breath but when she speaks it still sounds like something is holding her by the throat. "Gil, your sweater."
He looks down and sees mud in the shape of Anne's silhouette. Wildly, Gilbert feels ecstatic. A print of Anne on him- a visual for the resulting burn he feels at her touch.
But he can see the beginnings of another panic in Anne's eyes.
"It'll be alright." He says, only half speaking about his sweater. He bends down and picks up the light blue ribbon. "And so will this."
She watches him with wide eyes as he folds it delicately. "It can be salvaged, I promise."
Anne nods jerkily and Gilbert doesn't mention the way she grabbed his hand as they continued their walk.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks a bit later, once the ground is clear and dry and a bit of color has returned to her cheeks. It's taken him a while to get to this stage with her, where he can ask that and not be pushed away. It's taken patience and care, two things that Gilbert has an abundance of when it comes to Anne.
Thankfully, she seems to return the sentiment.
Her hand tightens in his. She starts slowly. "It was a memory. It feels like a lifetime ago. I had gotten-" She paused, her mouth twisting a bit. Gilbert felt a desire rise up in him to kiss away the bitterness residing there- it didn't fit her at all. "- a gift from them."
"Them?" Gilbert questioned.
"The Hammonds. My previous... home." She seemed to stumble over the word, as if it didn't fit. "I was their caretaker. I worked for them. Cleaning, cooking, tending to the children. They had given me some cloth to tie my hair with."
Gilbert noticed the distinct lack of the word ribbon.
"I was grateful and I kept it safe. But-" She cut herself off with a whisper. "One of the children ripped it apart."
"And you were blamed." Gilbert finished for her, sounding horrified.
Anne nodded, keeping her eyes straight ahead. They were clouded as if she was still half experiencing the memory. "It was a long and painful day." She said faintly.
Gilbert's stomach churned and he couldn't help himself from pulling the red-headed girl into another hug. Anne stiffened but after a moment she hugged back.
"I just wish I could protect you from everything." He whispered into her hair. He didn't mean for that to slip out, but as soon as he said it he knew he felt it with everything in him. "From your childhood, from your past, from the troubles to come in the future."
He heard Anne sigh softly, whether out of sadness or content for being held, he wasn't quite sure. "That's irrational."
"I know it is." He couldn't help it- she made him completely irrational.
He let her go and she grinned up at him with shining eyes, all trace of cloudy memories and pale faced fear gone.
"And besides, what makes you assume I need protection from anything Gilbert Blythe? I am perfectly capable of slaying my own dragons, thank you very much."
A familiar fondness began to bubbling up inside of him- one that only Anne could bring about in him. "Oh are you now? I was just a bit concerned considering you were having issues with the tree roots a little ways back."
Anne's cheeks flushed but her smile never wavered. "Well, I wouldn't be fighting the trees." She paused, her gaze turning upward. "But, if I were to I'd have a grand doctor who could clean me up after my excursions and willingly go to battle alongside me- against the trees of course."
"Oh of course." Gilbert nodded, mock seriously. He gently brushed their hands together in a note of sincerity- he would go to battle along side her. He couldn't possibly think of any reason why he wouldn't.
Anne- ever the brave one- twined their fingers together so casually that it made Gilbert wonder why they were ever apart in the first place. She continued on, painting pictures of grandeur with her words, filling his head with stories of a steady doctor, a fiery warrior and lands distant and beautiful.