This chapter is mostly Gilbert's portion of the story. I tend to let my stories take me where they wish to be taken, and now that I have a better idea of where it is headed I am superrr excited!

Don't forget to review- tell me what you think or what you hope to happen next!

When Gilbert entered the shabby hospital a few mornings later he noticed it seemed quieter than usual. People swarmed along the long, rotting walls, holding themselves or their loved ones in their worn arms, shawls wrapped tightly around them. Mothers holding their dying children in their helpless hands, children holding their dying mothers in the crook of their little elbows. Faint cries wrung in the air- cries of the ones physically suffering, and the ones emotionally.

"The Doctor is not here today."
A heavy french voice called out from behind him, clear and shy.
He turned.
The receptionist, the young blonde one. She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and blushed at Gilbert's gaze.
"Oh, well thanks for informing me. Did he mention where I should-"
"The children's ward." She interrupted, then paled, shuffling several documents nervously. She peered up at him hesitantly.
Gilbert smiled, "Thank you."
She nodded quickly and blushed again.
Gilbert took a few steps down the long white corridor then stopped, turning back to look at her again, "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name"
She smiled, her eyes flickering ever so lightly "Elodie."
"Nice to meet you Elodie. I'm Gilbert."

.

When his break finally arrived he found himself sitting beside Elodie, nibbling on a pastry he had purchased earlier. Elodie seemed oddly tense beside him, but the staff at St. Joseph's usually acted this way- death and fear leaked and lurched behind each door, waiting to lunge at its next target.

The silence between them was becoming unbearable -
"So, Elodie, tell me about yourself."
She sat straight up in her wooden chair suddenly, the paper slipping to the ground. She reached to pick it up at precisely the same moment as Gilbert, knocking her head against his own, and his pastry fell to the floor.
"Oh!" She exclaimed, reaching to pick up the half-eaten dessert.
"Don't bother." He said smiling softly
She placed her fingers on her lap, fidgeting, awkwardly avoiding his eyes,
"I'm... clumsy?" She asked, not sure if it was the correct word.
Gilbert nodded, biting back a smile.
"I'm seventeen, nearly eighteen. I live on the Boulevard. I- Doctor is a good man." She paused, and Gilbert waited
"My mama is dying"
The words tumbled out of her mouth and she continued to stare at her fingers "Doctor lets her stay for a long time here, even though... So now I work here. To give back." She peered up at Gilbert, searching for approval or comfort, he wasn't sure which.
So he gave it to her,
"That is very kind of you Elodie."
She bowed her head slightly, but Gilbert caught the fleeting gleam in her dark eyes from his compliment as she turned away from him.
He watched the side of her face for a moment.
He never had a sibling, or for that matter, any relations his age. Yet, he looked at Elodie and he felt a certain sibling-like tenderness for the young girl beside him. He smiled to himself, and rose regretfully, "I must get back."
She nodded, disappointment flicked across her features, "I will see you later."

Gilbert returned to the children's ward, shutting the door softly.
In front of him lay rows and rows of cheaply made cots, countless children upon them, sick and dying.
He shivered and noticed the window opened from across the room, a cool breeze snaking its way in. Hurriedly, he walked to shut it- he did not want any more illnesses contracted.
The blinds billowed from the wind, and he found himself looking far down the twisting cobblestone roads as they slivered through the dark green pines. As the road faded, the path weaved between hills ablaze in summer flowers- pinks and reds so vibrant like they were on fire.

He blinked.
Then shuddered, reaching to unlatch the hinge holding the window open,
"Don't"
- a soft voice, so quiet, so calm; the tips of his ears tingled.

He spun, hands still on the latch, and then gasped.
Blood rushed in his head and his heart froze, not daring even a whisper.
He was suddenly aware of the weakness in his knees, of the nausea and bile rising up his throat
No. It doesn't make sense- how? How?

…

Far, far away from Gilbert, past the rolling hills and almond roads, across the blue reaching waters and strewn across the green pastures, Anne lay still. Her eyes were closed and she breathed in the crispy Avonlea air. In her pale hands she clenched a white lily, turning it over and over again, until the stem began to tear.
She hardly noticed.

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow she would board a boat and travel Gilbert-bound.
Home- bound.
Fear gripped her stomach, and her mind begged her to play safe, to stay where she was, to avoid the possible heartache, to avoid the possible shame, to leave what was where it is.
But her heart.
Oh her heart, the same one that abandoned her at most desperate times, the one that tricked her, that fooled her, that was given to the wrong man and stolen from the right one.
Oh her foolish, foolish heart.
How she pleaded it wouldn't trick her this time.