Author's note: A here it is, another short-ish chapter I have a pleasure to present to you. I really wish it was longer - however, you should trust me when I say that cutting it where I did was still a better decision than having it go on for longer like I initially had intended to. But, hey! The next chapter is long enough to make up for it and hopefully, the ones after that will be as well.

Once again, I want to thank you for supporting me. I know I haven't really responded to any of your lovely reviews directly, but I will try in the future - and in the meantime, please know each of them means a world to me.

God bless you, Kindred Spirits
annewithagee

Chapter 5
The Past and the Present

Anne slept in terribly.

Or at least that was what she thought when she first opened her eyes, to see her little white room basked in the sunshine, and what she kept thinking later on as she combed her unruly locks and dressed up hastily. For a second she considered going downstairs as she was, with her nightgown covered with nothing but a flimsy robe and her hair gathered together in a loose, dishevelled braid. She disregarded the idea quickly, however, realising she might be expected to go outside any given moment and she certainly did not relish in the thought of Mr Harrison seeing her in the state of such undress.

Besides, even assuming she could stay in the house until evening, she needed to make room for the possibility that someone would decide to call on them at one point of the day, and since she still wasn't sure how late it really was, she had no right to suppose none of their friendly neighbours were waiting for her there now.

Most importantly, however, she could never imagine Marilla inkling towards such neglect on her part.

"And neither will Mrs Lynde, that's what," Anne mused to herself when she had put the last pin in her hair, unconsciously mimicking Mrs Rachel's manner of speaking. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, wishing to have one last look at her appearance – and then laughed sincerely when she realised how silly her behaviour was.

"Anne Shirley, you are every bit as vain as when you first entered this room," she scolded herself jokingly and shook her head with amusement. "Worrying about your looks when there is no one but family to see you. Why, this is positively scandalous."

She turned away from the mirror and set off towards the stairs, ready to start her day, even if a little late. She tiptoed by Marilla's bedroom – had to restrain herself from slipping into it – and then flew downstairs with the grace and quietness of a woodland nymph to which she had so willingly compared herself for the bigger part of her life.

She was far from being happy and farer still from being calm; but she had no intention of letting either of these feelings affect her enough to stop her from performing her work to the best of her abilities.

She entered the kitchen which she had not had a chance to view properly since she had last stayed at Green Gables during the Christmas break. Free from the exhaustion and anxiety that had been her share on the previous night, she could now see little changes all over it: the number of cups sitting on the shelf, reduced from eight to seven; a new rag placed before the fireplace, undoubtedly Dora's latest attempt; two wooden figures decorating the sill, which she could only assume were Davy's newest prize.

And then, the wide table, neat and empty, with nothing on it but a leaf of bread, some cheese and preserves left for her for her lonely meal.

She smiled weakly and walked over to the hearth, taking the poker than hung next to it, in the same place it always had. She jogged the coals in an attempt to fan the fire necessary for the making of her morning tea – and then turned abruptly, sensing a strange presence behind her back, and waved the poker, missing the intruder's face by a few inches of sheer luck, helped perhaps by his own excellent reflex.

"For Pete's sake, Anne, it would have been enough to tell me to back off!" the man she now recognised as Gilbert exclaimed mockingly, his hands held high in a defensive gesture. "I don't need another scar on my head, the one I've got is good enough on its own. And this looks far more dangerous than a slate!"

Anne blinked at him, utterly astonished, and took an involuntary step back. The fire poker was still held firmly in her hand, but she lowered it after a while as she eyed Gilbert up and down, still unable to comprehend the situation they had found themselves in.

"What are you doing here?" she asked eventually, turning around with the same suddenness that had nearly caused her to injure him seconds ago. She hung the instrument on its hook and after a moment's hesitation, she slowly moved to face him again.

Gilbert gave her a small, lopsided smile. "Except from unintentionally provoking an assault on my life? Not much, at least not until Mrs Lune comes down again and suggests something."

"I meant, what are you doing here, at Green Gables, and so early in the morning?" Anne retorted with emphasis and then, remembering her own musing from a quarter ago, she asked hesitantly, "It is rather early, isn't it?"

"It surely is," Gilbert confirmed with a smile. "I have only just ushered the twins to school, so that should give you an idea how early exactly."

"You looked to them leaving?" Anne asked, her bewilderment only growing. "But that -"

"There wasn't much to it, really," he objected hastily, misreading her surprise. "Dora could have done everything on her own, I'm sure, except of course keeping Davy in line. I forgot what a pill that boy can be – then again, it wouldn't be fair to say he hasn't changed at all."

The mention of the children she had come to treat as siblings made Anne relax into the same state of restrained dreaminess that had of late replaced her wild daydreaming from the past. The expression of shock faded from her face, replaced by that of love and wonder, and that infinite feeling of belonging that had always reflected in her features whenever someone mentioned her family and the sense of home it carried with it.

The home she had not allowed herself to dream of as a child; which she had never let herself underrate when she'd grown up.

Realisation dawned upon her, bringing her back to the reality she had left for that short while.

"They're almost twice as old as when they first came here," she said unexpectedly, looking back at Gilbert, eager to share her sudden discovery, even if she knew it couldn't be more obvious to him. "Six years, Gil! I'd never say it's been so long."

Gilbert, whom the dreamy look on Anne's face had managed to distract as much as her thoughts did her, returned the gaze somewhat hesitantly, clearly unsure of how he should respond to that new revelation of hers.

"Six years is a long time, indeed," he answered absently at last; and then quietly, he added, "I'm sorry I've missed the past two."

Anne opened her mouth, more in surprise than in an attempt to answer him, but Gilbert paid it no mind. He moved from his spot instead, reaching for the empty kettle and walking over to the pump to have it filled. He turned around then and, seeing that Anne had not moved an inch herself, he pointed to the table with a nod.

"You might want to start on your breakfast now," he said with a tentative grin as he hung the kettle over the fire. "It's going to be a long day, and I can't recall you eating anything last night. Now tell me: where do you keep your tea these days?"

"In the same place we always have," she responded, hoping that despite her inattentiveness from the moment afore she sounded lightly, or maybe even teasingly, enough. "But if you think I'm going to allow you to make any tea in my own house, Mr Blythe, then you are severely mistaken."

"And why is that?" Gilbert answered without missing a beat, falling back into their usual bantering in an instant. "You don't think my tea-making abilities lack anything, do you, Anne? You are the one who taught me everything I know about it, doubting my skills would only mean doubting your own schoolmarm capability."

Anne looked at him with wide eyes for a moment, before retorting, "You can't blame the teacher for the clumsiness of the child, Gilbert," she said emphatically. "Even though I can see your wit is still at work, at least as long as it comes to twisting other people's words. Is that what gave you such a reputation at Redmond, with all the professors fawning over you? Is that what they're granting the Cooper for these days?"

That moment, as he looked at her dashing stance, Gilbert felt he could no longer refrain from the chuckle that had been trying to escape his throat since the moment of their dramatic encounter. It was neither long or loud, but it was honest nonetheless; and Anne could not have missed the fact that it was the first time in months – in years – that she had heard the sound of it.

A strange wave of warmth overcame her, soon joined by the stinging realisation of how much she had missed it.

She shook her head at herself and smiled, finally deciding to take her place by the table and let Gilbert take care of her tea after all.

"Alright then," she announced in a defeated, yet still cheerful voice. "You may take care of the tea this time, but only if you promise to have it with me afterwards. I do not fancy being watched over my breakfast by someone not participating in the affair."

"Your wish is my command," Gilbert responded solemnly, bowing before her, only to let out another chuckle a moment later, before returning to his previous seriousness and adding, "And pray believe me that the pleasure is all mine."

Anne smiled at both of his comments, but refrained from replying to either, resolving to shift her attention to the much needed meal instead. She remained silent and so did Gilbert; but she did not forgo the pleasure of glancing at him every now and then, almost as if she had been afraid that he would disappear otherwise, a strange apparition that, by the laws of logic at least, had no reason to stay where he was staying now.

He was, however, and as real as he had ever been. The feeling of warmth caused by his laughter had not left her, and on the contrary, only seemed to grow – and despite her own confusion, Anne could not wish for the feeling to go away.

It was almost as if someone had sent them back in time, to those carefree days when they had both taught at school – and yet, the burden of the past could not be shaken off and forgotten so easily. And somehow, Anne was glad; they could not go back, after all, and pretending that they had would only have turned the situation it into some horrible farce. What they had here was undoubtedly queer, unknown, unsettling… But it was also real and after the foolishness of romance she had left behind, anything of reality looked ten times more appealing.

It was also the first time when Anne allowed herself to hope that Gilbert Blythe could come back into her life, in some way at least.

"You must have come here terribly early today," she offered quietly at last, after Gilbert had taken a seat at the other side of the table. She blushed a little in embarrassment when he looked up at her curiously, and hurried to explain her point. "To see Davy and Dora off, that is. They usually need a while to get ready in the morning, with breakfast and everything – and since I assume they left on time, you had to be here as soon as they woke up."

"Well, I wasn't exactly the one to drag them out of beds, so I can't take credit for that," her companion answered brightly, pouring another portion of tea into Anne's cup, completely ignoring her faint protests. "Mrs Lynde did that, and I dare say that lady does it much more effectively than I ever could. I did take care of their breakfast, though, and then I made sure they would not be late for the class. Nothing more, nothing less, as my father would say."

"But it still is so early!" Anne exclaimed. "It must have been dark when you left home, and I can't think of a reason why you would -"

The questioning look Gilbert gave her was enough to make her trail off. She returned the gaze, confused, not yet able to guess why he would look at her in this way when her own words appeared to be perfectly reasonable and clear. The young man in front of her didn't say anything, however, and Anne quickly decided that the best she could do was to simply ask him about it all.

Of course, as soon as she had opened her mouth Gilbert decided to clarify the matter himself.

"I didn't go home last night," he said evenly, rendering her completely speechless before she had managed to utter a single syllable of her own. "I was going to, but Mrs Lynde wouldn't hear of it; something about giving my mother a reason to think ill about Green Gables hospitality. You know how difficult it is to change her mind about anything, too. So I stayed and since I did, I thought I may as well make myself useful – especially seeing that I intended to call on you today anyway."

"But why… that is… your parents…" Anne stammered in response, her eyes round with shock. "That is, weren't they expecting you?"

Gilbert shook his head vigorously. "I told you that I had wired them, but it is obvious that they didn't get the message in time – we wouldn't have had to walk from the station if they had. And I am going to go home today, sooner or later… So there is nothing to worry about. Unless, of course, you think there is."

He looked directly at her then, his voice echoing with insecurity for the first time that day. His gaze wasn't any different from his tone, as he bore into her eyes, searching for the answer he still was a little afraid to receive.

"No, of course not!" she contradicted passionately, surprised even further with this sudden assumption of his and then blushed slightly again, realising how fierce her protest had been. "I'm so very glad that you are here, I can't tell you how much so. I was simply taken aback – you have already helped me so much, I didn't think you would like to continue when I can finally struggle with the problem on my own."

Gilbert offered her a small smile. "I like helping you, Anne, and even if I didn't, that's what friends are for… And I have already told you that I still want to consider myself yours. Besides, as I've said before, Mrs Lynde didn't give me much choice; and I have no reason to rush back home for a few hours at least."

"I'm glad," Anne repeated absent-mindedly, raising her gaze at him with a new, unknown tenderness of which she herself was not aware, but which proved to have quite an effect on the man in front of her. She dropped her eyes almost immediately, thus missing the astonishment that reflected on his face and, still slightly at fault, she turned her attention to her own cup and plate.

As she bit into her toast, her attention was once again summoned by Gilbert's strangely quiet voice.

"Are you really?"

Anne met his gaze again then, curious as to see if his countenance reflected the same vulnerability that for some reason rang in his tone. She couldn't tell whether the expression in his eyes was that of hope or fear, or maybe mere courteous interest; but as she looked, her mind wandered towards a warm autumn day of long ago, remembering the boy that had vexed her so strongly. The corners of her mouth twitched as she realised it was this very expression he was wearing now, the same that appeared on his face when he had come to apologise to her so many years earlier.

"I'm awful sorry I made fun of your hair..."

"Honest I am," she finished her thought out loud and broke into the most sincere grin, a grin that only widened at the sight of complete astonishment that her friend immediately displayed.

Anne let out a small chuckle and shook her head at the children they had once been – and who apparently still constituted a big part of who they were now.

Gilbert mirrored her action with a chuckle of his own; but when he opened his mouth to inquire about the comment, he was stopped by the sound of a creaking door and a slow but confident step. He glanced towards its source and then back at Anne – he raised an eyebrow at her and she responded with nothing but an innocent smile and a barely noticeable shrug of her shoulders. And then she simply resumed her meal, blind and deaf to Gilbert's behaviour, patiently waiting for Mrs Lynde to finally join them downstairs.