Been a long while, but this chapter takes place almost immediately after where we left off. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Anne stood timidly in front of the wooden door, her hand raised frozen in midair.
Her throat burned in its constricting cavity. The Blythes house seemed still in time, exactly as it had years prior. The leaves green and brown, dancing in the occasional breeze, dances that were danced every year of her childhood, dances that greeted her each time she visited Gilbert before

She knocked twice, turning away almost immediately. Her eyes simmered with fear, a childlike fear, one she hadn't felt since before Avonlea. The fear of refusal, of rejection, of being turned away from. The Blythes were good people, folks that were once close to her heart. But now, after relentlessly breaking their son's heart, no doubt breaking their own with his, she wondered painfully if there was any room in their heart to give her a chance.

The door opened just as she began to retreat.
Mrs Blythe

Her own hazel eyes scanned Anne's wordlessly, and the world could hear the thumping of Anne's heavy heart.
She took a step closer to the house of memory and she wondered if her pain was as apparent as it felt.
Anne opened her mouth to apologize for intruding when Gilbert's mother placed a worn hand over her cheek.
"Anne." She whispered softly "You've come at last."

…

Gilbert was home at last. He lived far from the hospital, and while the walk was generally a beautiful one, he felt strangely tired. He collapsed on the worn couch, pulling off his windbreaker and tossing it on the table across from him.
His room was hardly one to consider a home- he lived in Miss Parouis' boarding house for men. It was a shabby brick building right off one of the main streets in Paris. There were 8 one-bedroom apartments, each containing a small fireplace and a couch that doubled as a bed. And while it was a modest abode, he payed for it with his own hard work and for that he was proud.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He would take this job. He had come too far to let it slip through his fingers.

He stood and headed to the cupboard in the kitchen, pulling out an envelope that looked rather dusty. He stared at it for a few seconds, contemplating, before sitting back on the couch.
It was time.
He was ready.

…

Mrs. Blythe sat her down at the table and began to prepare a cup of tea.
"How have you been Anne?"

Anne wrung her hands in her lap "I've- I've been better. And yourself?"
"It has been easier."

There was a silence and Anne could feel Mrs Blythe's eyes on her. The room was charged with a certain electricity, or lack thereof. It was if the two of them were anticipating something- someone.
Anne could almost hear Gilbert's heart beating over her, this was his home, this was where he spent his life, growing dreaming, learning, and living.
And she had driven him out. Out and away.

"I'm sorry to intrude like this. I know it was unexpected and.." She felt her voice as it began to shake "I just miss him and I needed, I just-"

"Do you-" The voice across from her cracked "Do you love him Anne?" Her voice was sad yet Anne, who lived a life finding hope in the bleak, could hear a few notes of optimism in her words

Anne looked up "Always."
She smiled a broken smiled.
"There has never been anyone else"

She reached over and squeezed Anne's pale hand. Anne gripped hers back.
"Mrs. Blythe?"
"Yes?"
"Is he happy?"

Mrs. Blythe turned away for a moment, and fear gripped her soul. Was he okay? Was something wrong?
"Here. He sent us a letter in June. Take it."

…

He opened the letter. Her handwriting was as impeccable as usual, neat scripture in flowing lines. He smiled in spite of himself.

Dear Gilbert,
I hope all is well with you though you choose to keep it a mystery for all those who care about you. Except for Fred, his loyalty to you is aggravatingly unfathomable and therefore I now feel as if I am writing a sort of mysterious letter to a mysterious man. But alas, I don't have the imagination to make that story plausible or even pretend. Baby Fred is a round little baby, with delicious cheeks and thick arms. He looks just like his father, although he has his mother's dark hair or as you so kindly used to refer to as "crow's hair". It is hard to believe how much time has passed since then; so many of our old pals are gone, married, or simply living life elsewhere. I do wish everyone would come back home even for a fortnight, just for old times' sake. Things have changed greatly Gilbert, people, lives, feelings, even our tidy old town is filled with unfamiliar faces. We miss you greatly here in Avonlea. There isn't a soul who doesn't wish for you to return. Don't forget the life you once had Gil, I beg of you. No matter where you choose to reside, or if you choose to lock away memories of your home, there will always be a place for you here.
Much love,
Diana Barry Wright
May 20th

Gilbert folded the letter and leaned back, shutting his eyes. There was no mention of her. Or at least it wasn't explicit. But Gilbert was grateful for that- the last thing he wanted to read about was her wedding, her walking down the aisle, with her ruddy hair running down her back, her seven perfect freckles delicately placed on her nose, the grey-green eyes lighting up as she walked down to him, took his hand, pledged her love and her heart to him-

Gilbert gasped and then shuddered. What was with him?! What did he care what she was up to? He was over Anne Shirley, completely and unrelentingly. She was a married woman who probably hardly remembered Gilbert other than the boy she used to talk to when she was young and the one that ruined their innocent friendship by declaring his love for her.

And it did not matter. He was done dwelling in the past, he was done reliving. France was his opportunity to start fresh, to live a new life. He wouldn't love again, he knew that but he had accepted it. Love wasn't all what it was cracked up to be, and he was just fine living a life without it.

….

Dear Ma and Pa,
I'm sorry for leaving the way I did. I'm sorry I didn't write sooner, or let you know where I am. I'm safe, and even well. I'm in Paris. I found an offer to start a residency in a nearby hospital next month and I am eager to begin. I know I have been irresponsible and I hope you can forgive me for my lack of communication. The truth is, it's hard to think of Avonlea as they are tinted with the pain of nowadays. I know it is unfair for you both that I have left and closed my chapter on Prince Edward Island, but for me and the hole in my chest, it was the right decision. Now, don't go on thinking I am sitting here wallowing in my sorrows- I am actually enjoying myself fairly well! The weather is simply splendid and I love the Parisian lifestyle- specifically the food. I like my fellow board mates at Miss Parious' boarding house for men. It isn't the best of houses, but it is a place of residency and I feel welcomed in it. I do not imagine that I will be home for the holidays, but if Ma could ever board a ship, then there is a place for you here always. I miss you both dearly, give my farewells to all that wish to receive it.

With love,
Gil

Anne released a long breath, tracing her finger over his name. "He is okay."
Mrs. Blythe smiled from across the countertop "He is the best he could be"
"Are there- did he write to you anymore?" Anne asked desperately, craving to read more, to feel his heartbeat through the written word
She shook her regretfully "I'm sorry dear. I'm afraid our Gilbert isn't much of a communicator."

There was a pause. Anne brought the letter to her chest and closed her eyes. He was alive. He was okay. He was far, far away from her, but he was there.

"What...what are you going to do Anne?"
Anne opened her eyes. They sparkled with life, with hope, with dreams, with all the Anne-like passion and beauty that brought others admiration, that gave her a rich desire to live on.
"I'm going to find him."