Author's note: Good day to you my friends!

So here I am, not only late but also completely out of my regular Saturday-posting schedule. I'm really sorry that my prediction from earlier on turned out to be true, and I have little explanation for it save for my own laziness (yeesh) as well as my investment in yet another fandom (double yeesh) - and even more so to say that it may happen again with the other chapters.

That being said, I still want you to know that I'm working on this story and far from intending to give up on it, no matter how much longer it might take. I do wish to work on my other stories as well, so if you're following them, there's no need to worry, either.

Late as it is, I hope you will enjoy this new chapter. It was fun to write, even if it was more than challenging at times.

Thank you for all of your support.

God bless you,
annewithagee

Chapter 8
Davy's advice

"You know, Davy, I really don't think this is what Mr Jones meant when he spoke of approaching this exercise differently."

Gilbert leaned back in his chair with his arms folded, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched the boy before him struggle with his assignment. They had been going through his homework for about half an hour now, with Gilbert sitting there to supervise rather than to explain; and yet, when Davy turned his textbook around for the fourth time no less, he decided it was high time to put to use his old teaching skills at last.

"Alright, give it here," he said firmly after straightening up again and reaching for the book in question. "You are clearly missing something out and I can't guide you if you keep waving your notes in all directions like this – and I am supposed to be helping you."

"Isn't that just because Anne asked you to, though?" Davy asked a little suspiciously, but handed the item over without protest. He then jumped from his own seat in order to round the wide table and take one by the side of the man he still could not help but admire.

Gilbert glanced up at him from over the book and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I am fairly certain that sitting here was my idea, not Anne's," he responded evenly. "As was the one to go to out farm and help my father with the calves after we've finished, but if you think I'm only doing this out of obligation, there clearly is no reason to continue."

"Oh come on," Davy groaned with a simultaneous roll of his eyes, successfully making his older companion chuckle. "I didn't say that. Besides, I don't understand why you assumed doing something because Anne has asked you to is a bad thing. I do it all the time; and you can bet it's always nicer than when it's Mrs Lynde who asks."

"I bet it is," Gilbert muttered under his breath.

"But if Anne didn't ask you, then why are you doing this?" Davy continued regardless. "Mrs Lynde said you must be dreadful tired after all this studying at Redmond, especially with that prize they're talking about. Don't you want to rest?"

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't want; it hardly ever does in situations like this one," Gilbert answered patiently. "I'm no more tired that Anne is and if you recall, she has just graduated with High Honours herself; nor than Mrs Lynde, with all the hard work she'd been forced to do on her own before we came from Kingsport two days ago. And yet, you don't see them dodge their duties only because they have worked hard before, do you?"

Davy gave him an exasperated glance before retorting, "But you aren't family. It's different for you."

Too busy trying to settle himself on the bench more comfortably, Davy missed the sudden look of hurt that flashed in Gilbert's usually bright, hazel eyes. The latter made sure to school his features immediately, of course, not at all willing to discuss the subject of his anxiety with the twelve year old boy seated next to him, and not solely because of Davy's wee age.

With a long sigh that he hoped could be mistaken for a sign of exhaustion, he assumed the best tactics he could think of.

"Not being related isn't a reason not to help those who are in need; especially if it's your friends or neighbours that are," he remarked curtly, his tone mild by stern nevertheless, before he put the textbook back on the table and tapped it with his finger meaningfully. "And since you are both of these, I don't see why I should not be working with you on your geometry right now. Is that enough of an explanation for you, or are there any other arguments I have to refute before we may start?"

Davy peeked sideways at him for one last time, a little frown forming on his face, but said nothing. He wasn't stupid; he didn't need Anne's reassurances from last night to understand how smart Gilbert Blythe was. The never-ending praises of the young man he had heard along the years would have been enough to convince him, even if they usually came from the older generations for whose opinion he didn't care much in other respects.

And then Anne had always held Gilbert in great esteem, too, and Davy never would have dared to question her judgement, even if the girl herself did it so often – and if these two reasons hadn't done it, the fond memories of Gilbert helping them out in the first years of Dora's and his stay at Green Gables would have been enough to restore his trust, somehow forgotten after Anne had so suddenly ceased to mention her best friend's name at all.

Their work went swiftly after that, with Davy scribbling with abandon Gilbert had not seen in him before. Every now and then the latter would lean over the textbook or the slate himself, pointing out a number or equation Davy had overlooked – always mindful not to interfere too soon, but to give the boy a chance to try and tackle the problem on his own first.

It was forty minutes later that the slate was pushed away with a long sigh and when Davy stretched out his arms, yawning unashamedly.

Again, Gilbert could do little else than laugh at the display.

"Anne was right, you're pretty good at this," Davy admitted benevolently, causing yet another smile on his tutor's tired face. "Although I still don't understand why Mr Jones is so stubborn about us being… open… open-something about school."

"Open-minded, perhaps?" Gilbert suggested generously.

"Yes, I guess that's it. But I don't get it – Anne always says there's no scope for imagination in geometry and then you say it's all about keeping the right order and remembering the rules. Where's the room for open-mindedness in that?"

"Well, first of all, I don't think that's exactly what I said on the subject," Gilbert opposed instantly. "Besides, being open-minded doesn't mean you no longer need your formulas, little genius; only that you should be ready to look at things from different angles, different perspectives at times. And that, mind you, is exactly what we've been doing for nearly an hour now."

"Right, right," Davy shrugged dismissively. "I won't argue with you, since you clearly know what you're talking about. Although Anne can relate better, I think, when she was a dunce in geometry at school herself."

"And why on earth would you say that?" was Gilbert's astonished reaction.

Davy only shrugged again. "It's what Anne always says. You were the one who went to school with her. I thought you knew that."

"Anne was never a dunce," Gilbert responded firmly, although his hands came up to rub his temples involuntarily, as he recalled the many times he had had to listen to her ramblings on how incompetent she was in that field. "She's never liked it, that's true; and it's no secret that it didn't come to her as easily as other subjects did. But even though it was the only one in which I could have been sure to outrun her, I'd never agree that it was an easy thing to do."

As if called by his thoughts of her, Anne came into view then, putting the now finished washing up in their backyard, perfectly oblivious to the pair of hazel eyes tracing her movements from the other side of the window. A wistful smile appeared on Gilbert's face as he watched her; a thousand thoughts whirling in his mind as he once again struggled to think of how soothing, how oddly familiar the sight of her was.

His musings went back to the scene from earlier in the afternoon, the one that had taken him by such surprise, which however had been nothing but a natural reaction to the hardship on Anne's part. He was glad to see the change in her now – his smile grew a little warmer at the realisation of it. Of course, she still was a long way from her usual self, or even the condition he had seen her in the other day. Far too calm for her own standards and visibly quieter too (even separated by the distance, he could easily determine that Anne had foregone her usual habit of singing while at work this time), she was still in a much better shape than when he had talked to her last.

And that, he reminded himself, was all that should matter to him now.

He sighed and shook his head almost piteously, unable to chase away the strident thought that had once again found its way into his mind. The few dozens of hours since their arrival from Redmond had not been enough to make him feel comfortable in this place, one that held memories dearer to his heart than anything else in the world. The images of their studying, their enthusiastic talks and most heated arguments; the smell of plum puffs, so often burnt because of said discussions and the clattering of metal whenever Anne tried to save them with that remarkable haste of hers.

It was Anne, always Anne. Ever since he had met her, Green Gables had meant her, with Anne being as much a part of it as it was of her.

Maybe it was a better idea to stop pretending that he was capable of dealing with the past as he had tried to appear. Maybe it was time for him to admit, if not to the world around him, then to himself at least, that he simply wasn't, nor could ever be, able to face his shattered dreams without the heartache and spite that overcame him so completely every time he was reminded of them.

Maybe it was time he stopped pretending that there could ever be anyone for him but Anne.

"Well, you are better at explaining it, though," Davy interrupted his thoughts eventually, after he'd ended his own musings on the subjects of geometry and studying in general; then, completely missing the startled wince Gilbert gave in response, he went on. "You know, Gilbert, I think you'd make an awful nice older brother. Milty Boulter says that older brothers only seem like fun to strangers, but can be terribly mean to their brothers when no one else can see. But you wouldn't be mean to me, would you, Gilbert?"

Too taken aback by this sudden address, Gilbert needed a few moments to comprehend it before he could answer simply, "I hope I would not."

"And say, wouldn't you want a little brother like me, too?" Davy continued unflaggingly. "I'm sure we would have an awful lot of fun together, you and I. You could show me all the tricks you know and then I'd share my tricks with you – you can't know everything, after all – and then we might figure out some new ones together. And I know that you're an adult and can't really prank anyone no more, but wouldn't it be great it to do it together just once? I think even you would enjoy that, even if you were a teacher and all."

His older companion smiled, remembering the many rigs he had pulled off before going to Alberta, as well as the few he'd executed after coming back – and even a couple he had carried out there, whenever his father had felt well enough to appreciate the wit behind them.

Not to mention his most recent Redmond achievements in the field.

He wanted to say something about the matter – opened his mouth to do so – however, before he could utter a sound, Davy spoke up again.

"You know, Gilbert," he said carelessly, chewing on his pencil as if the words he was about to utter were the most obvious and thus most boring of truths. "I think Mrs Lynde might be right after all – you really should marry Anne. Then we could be brothers for real."

If Gilbert was surprised by Davy's statement before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. With his lips still parted in his intention to speak, he nearly choked on his breath at the words that had been thrown so casually at him. He wasn't sure whether his blood had run cold or if it was boiling with the same groundless ire that he'd been forced to battle ever since that dreadful April eve; all he knew was that Davy's remark, as innocent as it might have seem, was like a dagger that went straight into his heart, successfully breaking through the armour of indifference he'd been trying so hard to maintain.

And yet, he could not afford to have his facade crumble now; and certainly not before any of the inhabitants of this particular home.

"Alright, now slow down a little, will you?" he managed to say eventually, while praying to the Heavens that he could keep up appearances despite the turmoil that raged in his own soul. "First of all, playing matchmaker for the sake of your personal interest is an abominable thing to do and something a gentleman should never as much as think of. Second, if you really want me as sort of a brother – something you might want to reconsider, by the way – I'm sure we could simply agree I'd play that role for you. There really is no need to drag Anne into it, too."

"But wouldn't you want to marry her?" Davy insisted stubbornly, utterly unaware of the desolation his comments did to his companions battered heart. "Before you two went to Redmond, Mrs Lynde was always talking about how you would end up married anyway. Honestly, I think Marilla thought that too – so you really can't blame me for thinking of it. Actually -" he came to a half, as if hesitating, but resumed his speech before Gilbert could interrupt with a remark of his own.

"Actually, they kept saying that after you left Avonlea, too. I suppose that's why they never let me stay in the kitchen when you came to see Anne. But the point is, you've always liked her! And I know she likes you and awful lot, too – so again, why wouldn't you want to marry her now? I know there is that Roy fellow Mrs Lynde keeps mentioning, though honestly, I don't think she likes him very much. Blimey! I'm not even sure Anne could really like him. He seems like a total bore to me."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing you're not the one he's courting," Gilbert spoke at last, his tone as even as it was cold. "That Roy fellow, as you call him, is a good man, with nothing but best intentions when it comes to Anne. Also, it is unjust to call him anything when you have not met him yourself; I have, and I can assure you that you're wrong. He may be nothing like you or I, but he is not only intelligent enough, but also kind and considerate enough to be worthy of Anne's attention. And last but certainly not least, there is absolutely no reason to believe that Anne is indifferent to him; in fact, I think it is quite safe to say that she cares about him very much."

Silence fell on the room after Gilbert had finished his surprisingly long list of arguments; ones that, to his own astonishment, were perfectly true, and for that all the more damaging as he thought of them.

The woeful quietness prolonged, with neither of them wishing to break it with their words, both realising there was no good way of doing so. However, the same conclusion that made the man in Gilbert remain silent, prompted the boy by his side to straighten up and address the matter directly.

After all, it would only grow more difficult as the time passed.

"You don't believe it yourself," he announced firmly, meeting his companion's eye after the latter had raised his gaze at him in shock once more. "You don't think he's good for her. So even if he is as rich as everyone here says he is..."

This time Gilbert's voice echoed with impatience when he said, "Anne doesn't care about riches, Davy – you know he well enough to realise this much. Royal Gardner is rich, yes; but he respects Anne and cares for her, and probably even loves her -" his voice cracked a little when he admitted this particular truth. "and for all I know, he's never used his position as a mean to win her over. He is a gentleman; he will look after Anne well. Better than I ever could for sure."

Now that was a lie and one of which falseness Gilbert was acutely aware. Oh, of course the Gardners would take care of her, dressing her in silks and velvets, showering her with diamonds she did not like to then bathe with her in the high city life to which she didn't belong. He bit his cheek angrily, telling himself that it was his jealousy that put such thoughts in his mind – and immediately realising how much more there was to it.

A breath caught in his throat as he thought of the comparison that loomed before him. A life and refinement offered by Roy – and a life of work and struggle laid by her feet by him, together with the promise of love so infinite that he could never put it into words.

Was it really so arrogant of him to believe that his offering, even if not more desired, was at least more meaningful than Roy's?

As if to confirm his treacherous thoughts, Davy shifted on his seat and with all honesty fit to his disposition and age, he asked simply, "Then why isn't he here?"

As used as he was to Davy's questions by now, Gilbert could not find an answer to this one. He tried to summon a memory of one moment when Anne had told him about Roy's place in all this mess – one time that she had suggested having to write to him to explain her sudden leave – one instance when she had as much as mentioned her dark admirer's name. He could think of none; and somehow, he was sure that it was cause neither by his partiality nor any unexplained memory loss.

She had not spoken of Roy to him once.

Still not quite knowing how to respond to Davy's inquiry, he opened his mouth to try and improvise his answer. He was spared the trouble, however, when the door leading to the backyard opened with a creak and an agitated Anne came inside. Both Gilbert and Davy nearly jumped in surprise at her unexpected arrival, both giving her startled looks to which she could not answer differently than with her own portion of amused astonishment.

In an instant, Gilbert realised the impropriety of their welcoming and, somewhat sheepishly, he rose to his feet and approached her, deciding to at least relieve her of the big, heavy laundry basket that she was resting against her hip.

He expected her to object, in the same manner as she had so often of late. However, Anne was clearly too preoccupied to think of such trifles at the moment, and so she took on his offer with nothing but a slightly absent-minded 'thank you' coming out of her mouth.

She turned towards Davy then and said, "Davy dear, could you perhaps take a break from your studies and make a little trip to the Wrights? I have a note to Diana that I should have sent much earlier, but there was never enough time for that. Could you run over there and deliver it to her now?"

"Sure can!" her little brother exclaimed with so much exuberance that the former teachers of White Sands and Avonlea could not help but share an understanding glance, remembering how enthusiastically their students had always reacted to their announcements of unexpected breaks. With a smile, Anne reached for the small envelope hidden in her pocket and handed it to the boy in front of her.

It wasn't a minute later that she and Gilbert were once again left to themselves.

"Well, he clearly did not enjoy our time together as much as I hoped he would," Gilbert remarked jokingly, immediately deciding not to give Anne any reasons to suspect that they had talked about much more than mathematics before she'd arrived. "Although I suppose we could blame it on his animosity towards learning and thus save my ego from being crushed so completely as it would be otherwise."

Anne chuckled softly. "It's geometry, Gil. You can't have expected him to willingly stay at home for that!"

"Well, just because some people can't appreciate the fine art of figures does not mean there's nothing to appreciate, Miss Shirley."

"Perhaps, but I can tell you with all confidence that you won't find much love for it in Davy, either. I know him and I know he detests it almost as much as I do."

"Yes, and the fact that you were the one to raise him certainly bore no impact on how he's seeing it now."

This final comment disarmed Anne entirely. With her lips pursed in the hope to hide her amused smile and a playful scowl that had appeared on her forehead so naturally, she raised her hand to swat Gilbert; but his reflex proved to be quicker again as he held the laundry basket as if it had been the finest shield. Anne's palm met it with force not meant for it and she hissed quietly at the unpleasantness of the encounter.

"Live by the sword, die by the sword," he told her resolutely in response to the glare she had gifted him with. "I'm sorry, though; and before you decide to stop talking to me again, I've got a peace offering to go with my apology."

"Oh? And what would that be?" Anne asked with the weakest trace of curiosity.

Gilbert grinned with satisfaction.

"A secret," he revealed cryptically. "One that is closely related to Davy himself as well as to his academic endeavours, among which the infamous geometry surely takes a most significant place."

Anne's eyebrows went up as she listened to him expectantly. Well assured that the victory in this little clash would be his, Gilbert allowed the pause in conversation to drag for a little longer than necessary and making it far more dramatic than it needed to be, before leaning in with all his nonchalance and whispering conspiratorially:

"He is better at it."

Such a finale could not earn him anything but another swat, one that he did not manage to avoid this time. The pricking in his arm was nothing, however; not when it was accompanied by Anne's soft laughter and a shining in her eyes that he had not expected to see for a few more days at least. His own unpleasant musing was pushed aside, left for a time when he would not stand so close to her, when he would not be allowed to admire her in the way he was – very consciously – doing now.

And yet, the same consciousness that made it possible for him to appreciate the moment unreservedly also made him realise that it would not last forever – and than, considering the circumstances, it might have been best if he were the one to end it.

"So, are you going to tell me what that rush was really about?" he asked, feigning neutrality. "What is it that Diana needs to know that is so urgent that Davy can't finish his homework?"

"Oh, it's nothing special, actually," Anne responded, a little abashed. "I've been meaning to send Di a few words about the situation here since we returned – I know she's been asking about Marilla constantly and I'm sure she would offer all possible help too if it wasn't for her own current state – but there just hasn't been the time. And a good thing too, for now it served as a perfect excuse to have Davy out of the way."

It was Gilbert's turn to raise his eyebrows at her, an amused smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. "And why, pray tell me, would you need him out of the way now?"

"Because the doctor will be here soon," she responded evenly, clearly oblivious to the slyness of his tone. "I saw him coming down the road and figured that it would be best to have the children out of the house. Dora finished her homework about a quarter ago and has been tending to her flowers in the garden ever since; she won't leave them for another half an hour at least."

"And having Davy in the barn with me wouldn't be enough?"

"You weren't in the barn, though, you were here. And as I said, I've been meaning to send that note to Diana for a while now, so -"

Interrupting her answer mid-sentence, a knock came at the door. Knowing it could only mean one visitor, Anne ran over to greet him while Gilbert decided to seek solitude in the backyard, not sure how his presence at Green Gables might be received by an outsider – and as sure as he was of Doctor Spencer's discretion, he'd rather not risk any more gossip flying around.

It was only when he stepped outside that he realised that the laundry basket was still held firmly in his arms; but it was too late to do anything but to put it down on a nearby bench and make a mental note to remember to take it inside later.

And then he set off to his duties, praying that the doctor would find Marilla's condition better than they all feared it was.