Morning comes too early, the time change harder to process than she'd expected as she pulls on her clothes and checks herself in her tiny handheld mirror. She tried not to be vain, especially out here, but with her vibrant red hair and her endless freckles it was almost impossible not to try to compensate with making sure she at least looked human every morning.
Stumbling out of her tent she makes her way towards the meeting area and settles into a chair around the collection of tables. Other members of the team begin to join her, light pleasantries spoken as they wait for the meeting to get under way.
"Can I sit here?" Gilbert asks over her shoulder, forcing her to look up towards him. He holds two cups of coffee in his hands and she prays one of them is for her, even if it would be like accepting gifts from the enemy.
"I think I could live with that," she replies lightly, waving her hand towards the chair as he collapses into it.
"Thank God - I'm dying from jetlag - "
"Good morning everyone." A woman greets from the head of the table, interrupting him as she gets to her feet. "Let's get started with the run down for the day and then we'll do introductions." They both turn their attention to the woman who introduces herself as Muriel Stacey, Group Leader for the camp operations.
As the meeting wears on, Anne finds herself fading quickly as the content dulls. Leaning against the cool plastic table she rests her chin in her hand, her eyes closing for a little bit longer with every blink.
"Hey," Gilbert whispers, nudging her elbow and causing her to shift and almost fall face first into the table. She snaps up and shoots him a weary look, rolling her eyes at him. He only shifts the coffee cup on the table towards her, nodding for her to take it.
Without hesitation she reaches for the mug, grasping it in her hands she lifts it to her lips and takes a few gulps, wincing at the harsh flavour of the black liquid. Though she's desperate for the caffeine it's almost not worth it and she sticks out her tongue, setting the cup down gently as Gilbert snorts from behind her.
"Now - I see two new faces here. Why don't you introduce yourselves?" Muriel instructs, drawing their attention away from the poisonous coffee and back to the meeting at hand.
"I'll go first," Gilbert interjects, leaning forward and looking around the table. "I'm Gilbert Blythe. I'm here as the replacement GP for the next month. This is my sixth deployment and so far it's been the best one yet."
Anne has to force herself not to scoff aloud as the group chuckles, choosing instead to pick at her nails as he continues to be too charming and delightful for someone who had just described themselves as dying from jetlag.
"And this is Anne," he adds, motioning to her as his hands settle on the table before him.
"Yes - I'm Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Anne with an 'e', if you please. I can be quite particular about that. I'm here working on a book and I'm hoping to get to know you all a bit better to understand what your roles here are. There won't be any identifying components - this is just the research stage so don't worry, your secrets are safe with me. I'm going to be kind of a fly on the wall and you should know I don't bite so don't be afraid to come to me with any questions you may have," she finishes and when she spares a glance towards Gilbert her cheeks flush as his hand rubs the spot on his shoulder where she distinctly remembered biting him not a full day ago.
This mission was going to be impossible, that she was growing more surprisingly sure of with every minute.
"Okay. I've got it. Let me know how that goes," Anne replies to one of the ward nurses who was being particularly difficult to work with. She tried her best to keep the contempt out of her tone as she wrapped up the interview.
Stepping out of the ward and back into the open air she forces herself to breathe, consciously drawing her shoulders down from around her ears and relaxing the muscles in her back. The cot she slept on wasn't bad, per se, but her body had seen better days than the conditions of this mission.
"Are you off to get lunch?" Gilbert greets, breaking into her thoughts as she opens her eyes to catch him staring. She debates for a second just turning on her heel and walking away, putting distance between them in the way she's carefully been doing since that first meeting but it would be too obvious now and she had no excuse.
"I'm not really hungry," she replies instead, turning her attention down to the notes she'd scribbled out this morning.
"Come now, you have to be. Break was like, two hours ago and you've been at it since seven this morning," he presses, taking a step towards her and trying to guide her towards the kitchen tent without touching her. She groans and stumbles along beside him, stuck now that he'd cornered her. "What do you want? I was just going to grab a sandwich - you want one?"
He pulls out a chair for her and continues heading towards the kitchenette as she rubs sanitizer in her hands. She hadn't touched anyone this morning - she made sure of it - but it was never bad to be a bit paranoid, especially in close living conditions like these.
"I'm actually not hungry," she calls out to him as he sets two plates on the counter. He looks over at her then, a frown on his face as he gauges her for a moment.
"I'm going to make you one anyways. Your colouring is a bit off," he replies and spends a moment washing his hands before he steadily starts grabbing items from the pantry.
"My colouring is always off. Comes with the ginger territory," she snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest at the observation. Her colouring was not off - she was fine. It was all in his head.
It only takes him a few minutes to pull together two large sandwiches and cups of tea, setting them down on the table with a flourish before he falls into the seat beside her. "Fine - have it your way. It's turkey and cheese," he pauses, lifting the sandwich to his lips and taking a big bite.
"Thank you," she sighs and reluctantly takes a bite. It tastes good, she will admit, but despite the good taste her stomach still rumbles as her body flushes, a cold sweat coating her palms as she chews. Convinced it's all in her head she changes tactics and sips the tea, smiling at the bit of honey he's mixed in. She's midway through the cup when the wave of nausea hits her, stilling her movements as she tries to talk herself down from the nerves that spark at the denial.
"How's it been going in the ward? Got any surprising insights into the daily lives of nurses on mission?" He asks in between bites, shifting in his seat restlessly as she shrugs in reply. She tries to rely on mind over matter, setting the sandwich down and breathing deeply for a moment as she stares at her plate. "Anne, you sure you're okay?" His voice wobbles in and out in her head, reverberating as she feels herself turn weightless.
She blinks and when she wakes she's horizontal, her head in someone's hands as people buzz around her. "Anne, hey," Gilbert whispers, brushing her hair back from her brow as he looks down at her. It's his lap she's laying in, great. "You passed out - what feels off?"
She mouths a response, her throat dry and silent as she closes her eyes to stop the spinning in her vision. Her head hurts and her stomach - oh God, her stomach. She could feel the bile rising faster than she could react and though she twists herself to the side there was no escaping the embarrassment of puking across Gilbert's knee.
"Well, that makes it pretty clear," he laughs, a hand steadily holding her hair back as the other rubs soothing circles across her back. "Let's get you closer to the washrooms, just in case," he adds, setting her down gently on the ground before getting to his feet and reaching towards her.
She thinks for a hot second that she can get up on her own, swatting at his outstretched palms and then attempting to roll to her knees. When all she does instead is simply crash back into the gravel, she knows she's done for and doesn't resist when those too large hands of his wrap around her waist and pull her to standing without any effort.
"If you didn't want to eat the turkey, you could have just told me. There was salami and - "
"Stop," she interrupts, groaning as the mention of food makes her stomach roll again. He chuckles and holds her arm around his neck as she pauses to put her head between her knees for a moment. When she's ready again they move closer to the washroom area and he sets her down in the makeshift shower on one of the cool plastic chairs.
"Diana has gone to get you a couple of buckets," he says softly, crouching down before her and watching as her head leans heavily against the side of the shower stall. Diana… Dear sweet Diana. One of the only people in this godforsaken place that actually treated her like a person. She was a kindred spirit, she had to be. "Is it just an upset stomach or are you in pain anywhere?" Gilbert prods, taking the liberty of running his hands along her limbs and checking for any signs of injury.
"Just my stomach, I think. It just hit me like a wave," she breathes, closing her eyes and relaxing into the feel of his hands checking her pulse. He feels too good, his breath hot on her neck as he listens through his stethoscope.
"That's good - I mean, not good, obviously, but there doesn't seem to be anything else going on. Probably just a case of Delhi belly from the food," he quips as his fingers check her glands and trace over her cheeks. She doesn't remember that soft contact ever being a part of a medical checkup before and when she opens her eyes to look at him she catches him staring, concern evident in his features.
"Gil," she groans, lifting her hand weakly to press at his chest. He misreads the situation and leans closer, her panic cresting as she rallies her strength and pushes him away just in time to expel more bile into the floor of the shower.
"Oh Anne-girl," he sighs, attempting to keep her upright as her body shakes with each release.
"Just let me die here," she moans eventually, closing her eyes and forcing herself to breathe. She was going to die here, from embarrassment, if she didn't start to pull herself together.
"Sorry, can't do that. Already attached - "
"I've got it!" Diana bursts into the small space, her voice echoing off the walls and rattling in Anne's head. "Anne - you're a right mess," she sighs, pushing Gilbert out of the way and setting the bucket on the ground at Anne's feet. "Gilbert, go get changed and bring a spare set of scrubs back for her. She's going to have a quick little shower and then we're going to set her up in the isolation tent, aren't we Anne?"
In another moment she's stripped of her shirt and pants and the shower is turned on overhead, the hot water sprinkling down on her and washing away the mess she'd made. She doesn't know quite how she gets cleaned and re-dressed but when she comes back around she finds herself tucked into a comfortable cot, her clothing replaced with scrubs and a small light in the corner to keep her company.
She spends the next day in the tent, staff from the hospital coming to check on her throughout their shifts and bringing her water and rehydration salts whenever they can. Gilbert, of course, hovers around the door of the tent longer than reasonable and she half thinks he's pulled a chair up to keep her company, his stories from the outside world giving her comfort as she works through her illness.
When eventually she's recovered enough to stand on her own two feet she spends the afternoon sanitizing the space and tidying it before returning to her own tent to rest for the night. She's woken sometime later by her name being called, distress evident as the zipper on her tent opens abruptly and bodies crowd into her tiny space.
Laying in her bra and underwear, Anne looks up at them with a scowl, questioning without saying a word. Diana is the first one to speak, apologetic as she looks away from her. "We didn't mean to barge in but we were worried - you weren't answering your text messages and didn't respond when we were calling your name!"
"I was asleep, obviously," Anne groans, reaching for her discarded sheet as she sits up to face them. Gilbert's gaze never leaves hers, his tall frame almost imposing in the small space of her tent.
"Well, we're glad your not dead. I know you're probably not interested, but it's Ruby's birthday today and the chef has - "
"No," she interjects, holding up her hand as Diana opens the door to discussions about food. She never wanted to see or eat anything ever again. "Don't talk to me about it. Don't even think about it. Not right now."
"But there will be cake, Anne!" Diana pleads, kneeling beside her bed and grasping Anne's hand tightly in her own. "Can't you rouse yourself for an hour? Gilbert, tell her she needs to join us. She seems to listen to you."
Anne scoffs at that, looking between the two of them suspiciously. Was something more going on here? God, was that jealousy stirring in her chest?
"She doesn't listen to me any more than anyone else, Di," Gilbert responds, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continues to watch her. Anne lifts a brow at him, questioning without words what was going on between him and Diana with her little nickname. God, she was jealous. Lord Jesus she needed saving.
"Will you leave me alone if I come for the song and then leave again? I really am fucking exhausted," Anne gives in, reluctantly sliding her feet to the floor and moving to stand slowly. Diana bounces up and claps her hands, reaching towards Gilbert's shoulders excitedly before bounding out of the tent. Anne half expects Gilbert to follow her but his feet stay planted as he watches her dig through her kit for clothes. "What are you still doing here?" Anne quips as she distractedly pulls loose a t-shirt and pants.
"I…" He starts, stops, pulls his hands from his pockets and raises them before willfully stuffing them back in.
"Yeah? Thank you for that enlightening story," Anne grumbles as she fights to clasp the button on her pants. She can tell she's beyond tired, her body aching after 24 hours of inner chaos, and it makes her punchy, especially as this man hovers in the doorway of her tent with eyes that see her too clearly, even in the low light.
"Anne," he mumbles as she reaches up to pull her hair back, turning away from him to feel less exposed.
"Why are you still here, Gil?" She rasps, twisting the hair tie around her mess of red and then bending to grab her t-shirt from the floor. When she stands back up she can feel the heat of him behind her, her movements stilling as his fingers graze along her spine and send shivers straight to her core. Glancing up over her shoulder she catches sight of him, the shadows over his face deepening the desire she sees clearly reflected there.
Nope. She couldn't do this. Not today.
Stepping forward to put some much needed space between them Anne yanks her t-shirt over her head and sets her hands on her hips, facing him head on to show him that she wouldn't relent. "Aren't you disgusted by me yet? I literally puked all over you twice. Isn't that a sign?" She lashes out, stepping past him and into the cool evening air.
Anne doesn't wait for him to join her outside of the tent and instead heads towards the dining area with a quick step and an intent to put as much distance between herself and Gilbert as she could manage. Determined, she grabs a bottle of water and a rehydration package and sits down between Diana and Muriel with a forced smile on her lips, her gaze barely looking up when Gilbert eventually joins the table.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur, her sleep deprivation and lack of energy quickly catching up to her as the cake is set before them with an arrangement of candles. Once Ruby has done her part and blown the flickering flames out Anne excuses herself, disappearing to wash up for the evening and tuck herself into bed markedly alone.
