When they round into the final week of his mission they do so with trepidation, Anne's gaze searching his out more fully during meals and his hand linking fingers with hers more frequently during quick passes between their stations.
"I have to work late tonight on a report for HQ - will you be up later?" She asks in the late afternoon as she catches him between break and returning to the clinic.
"I might - I'm pretty beat. Do you, uh," he pauses, looking around them quickly. "Just want to come find me when you're done?"
"Sounds good, Doc," she replies brightly, giving him a false salute before smiling and disappearing towards the admin tent. She turns back quickly to catch him watching her, his expression sending shivers down her spine. How did he put so much feeling into one look?
The afternoon quickly dissolves as she types out her next round of notes and condenses them into an operational report for Muriel's transmission back to HQ. She is almost done, her brain in editing mode, when she hears the alarm sound out, it's unfamiliar tone grating on her nerves as she tries to continue focusing.
When still it doesn't stop after a moment she looks up, watching through the tent window as the night shift crawls out of their tents and looks around.
"What is that?" She shouts across the space to Muriel who has jolted to her feet. The woman's expression turns neutral as she pulls on her identification cards quickly.
"Critical incident alarm. There isn't a scheduled test today," she replies back. Anne gets to her feet and follows her out of the tent, her heart hammering in her chest as she heads towards the gate of the clinic.
In front of her a mass of activity is happening, security at the gate struggling to maintain order as the team works as quick as they can through the horde of people pouring in. Anne freezes in place at the sight, her hand covering her mouth as the sounds of pain surround her. What could she do? What had she learned?
With a hesitant step, and then another more deliberate one, she heads towards the gate and settles herself before leaping into the fray.
They catalogue and treat and watch the bodies begin to rise as the traffic accident paralyzes the daily function of the clinic. Anne tries as best she can to control the crowd of incoming family and friends, collecting and relaying information as she's able to through translators and community members.
While the team works desperately to stem wounds and determine the fates of others there is almost an unending amount of tragedy that pours into their little clinic that late afternoon.
"I need more body bags," Muriel demands as Anne passes by her, the woman's bloody glove grabbing Anne's shirt. Numbly, Anne nods and turns on her heel, sprinting towards the storage shed and rummaging through the labelled kits until she can find the box of heavy plastic bags.
She makes it back to the clinic quickly and let's the woman know about the re-stocked item, returning to her task and taking names down on a clipboard before capturing a photo of the person. When she returns to the mess of people she tries to keep them updated as she provides more information, discussing with loved ones the condition that their family member was in.
It's exhausting, stressful, and she feels about ready to collapse when eventually Muriel comes to dismiss her, the woman's face drawn as she sends her to the kitchen for an impromptu team meeting as the night shift takes the lead.
Almost in a daze, Anne walks the path she's walked for a month, picking at the blood that had somehow gotten on her hands in the chaos of action. When she stumbles into the kitchen the team members she sees there are pale, stricken, and she recognizes the stunned hurt that clouds each of their eyes.
"Let's get you cleaned up," a soft voice says from over her shoulder, guiding her away from the kitchen and towards the bathroom sinks. With steady hands Gilbert turns on the water and lathers his palms, moving the soap over her arms and cleaning her skin of the red stains.
They don't speak as she changes into a set of scrubs and they head back towards the kitchen to settle into the plastic chairs, everyone's gaze focused on anything but each other as Muriel eventually clears her throat.
"I'm very proud of the reaction and care that each of you had today in dealing with this. We are not a trauma facility but you provided the skills and resources that you had with surprising efficiency and attention to patient care. I realize this was an exceptionally difficult day for a lot of you so I'm releasing you an hour early from your shifts. Tomorrow morning's meeting will be held at the same time, please ensure you attend. Try to get some rest and if you need to talk, please come find me," she adds, her gaze measured as she looks around at the group.
Beside Anne Gilbert shifts, his elbows resting on his knees as he watches the gravel below him. She can sense the tears he sheds, his posture tight with the pain of it, and she wishes she could pull him to her as he struggles to hold the load.
"Your emergency skills were well used today, Blythe," Muriel states as she rests a hand on his shoulder, her fingers squeezing as he sniffs and nods towards the ground. "See he gets some rest, will you Anne?"
Her knowing gaze, soft and understanding, would have at any other time put the fear of dread in Anne's gut but now only served to push her into action.
"Gil," Anne breathes as Muriel walks away, her hand resting across his spine and drawing small circles there. Her touch breaks him out of his slouch and he abruptly pulls her to him, holding her to his chest in a crushing hug that she tries to return as best she can.
She doesn't care in that moment about what everyone else may think, about her reputation or the threat to her job, all she cares about is this man and the tears he sheds into her shirt, his fists tight against her back as he clings to her.
"Let's go get you changed before dinner," she whispers eventually, her fingers stilling at the back of his neck as he slowly draws back to look at her. He gives a quick nod and moves to his feet, dumbly heading towards his tent as she trails behind him.
Once inside the small space she draws him to her again, her lips pressing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, before she leans back to look at him. "Are you alright?" She asks quietly, desperate to steady his onslaught of emotions since the incident.
"I will be. I just - I left my position with the hospital's emergency care unit because there were too many losses. I wasn't prepared for this… Or to have this kind of reaction to it," he confesses as she runs her hands along his arms. "Are you okay now? How did you get covered in blood?" His concern lights up his expression then, like he'd just remembered that he'd helped her wash not half an hour ago.
"I'm fine - it - I don't really know how it happened. It's fine though," she replies weakly, shifting under the intensity of his gaze. "You should get changed. We'll go eat and then we can talk, okay?"
With a brisk nod he turns to strip down and takes his clothes from her outstretched hand with a familiarity born of habit. When he's re-dressed they step back into the low evening light, walking hand in hand towards the dining area where the subdued team is gathering for dinner.
"I think Muriel knows about us," Anne says as they round into sight, Gilbert squeezing her hand before releasing to abide by their agreement to hide what was going on between them.
"Oh, she definitely knows. She doesn't care though," he replies quietly, glancing down to see her pause her step.
"What do you mean she knows? How does she know?" Anne hisses, eyes wide as she wraps her arms around her chest. How had he known that it wasn't a secret from their boss?
"She caught me coming out of your tent that first time. She only told me it better not cause any complaints or she'd boot me out of here faster than I could get to the airport," he adds and lifts his hand to rest on her wrist. "She's only ever come to your defence, Anne. If anything, she'd come after me if anything went arigh."
"How do you know all of this?" She asks weakly, the surprise of it making her pause. Her gaze locks on his as he steps closer, his red-rimmed eyes softening.
"We run together in the mornings. Sometimes we talk. I promise she's on your side - please don't be mad about this," he requests, crowding closer. Behind him she can see Diana watching them, her hands over her heart as Ruby forcibly turns the woman back towards the table.
"I wish you'd told me earlier Gil. Have we only been pretending for my sake?" She asks as eventually she starts walking again towards the dining area. He turns and catches up to her, his hand grazing hers before capturing it in his grip. She doesn't shrink him off and he thinks a small victory has been won, his heart stumbling with the possibility of it.
"Kind of. We're really bad at pretending, I think. Nobody else seems to care. We don't report to each other and we're not being annoying about it or causing issues. I think they're happy to just ignore it," he adds before they pick up their dishes.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me. Do you know what that realization could have meant for you?" Anne whispers, looking up at him with a tentative smile. He feels the look slam into his chest, his neck flushing.
"Don't even start. I won't survive if you tell me," he replies and follows her to the table.
Together they settle into the group and try to lighten the mood, those around the table working desperately to bring a sense of normality to their evening as they struggle to brush off the day's heavy events. When dessert is served they dig into it thoroughly, a quiet filling the air as one by one they say their goodnights and head to the lounge or their tents.
Eventually Anne and Gilbert are the only ones left, an unspoken conversation between them as their fingers lock under the table.
"I was going to call home but the wifi will probably be tied up for a while," he says after a moment, leaving the evening open.
"Same. I've been so busy that Marilla has managed to send me two emails. She barely knows how to turn on the computer, let alone type up an email," Anne laughs and shifts closer, watching his expression flicker.
"Do you want to just go lay down? I really am beat," he asks and looks away, almost nervous. She lifts her hand and turns his chin back towards her, a question in her gaze.
"I will happily spend time doing nothing with you, Gil," she answers lowly and gets to her feet.
They move towards his tent and slip through the flap without a care for who may have seen them, the worries of yesterday gone in the revelation of Muriel's knowledge and the day's events. Inside Gil gathers his extra sleeping bag and pad, spreading them out across the floor as Anne pokes through the few items he's placed on his storage unit.
"Come here," he requests, already seated on the blankets as he tugs her down. She follows him easily and doesn't fight when he guides her into his lap, his arms drawing her close to him as he shudders out a breath.
"It's okay, Gil," she soothes, her hands tangling in his hair and holding him to her chest. "You did well today. You did what you could and that's enough."
She doesn't know how long they sit there, wrapped in each other's embrace, but when eventually Gilbert's lips find hers it's with a promise of hope, one that bleeds through his touch and into her body. She leans into it, holding her hands to his shoulders as his fingers graze her neck, her chin, keeping her bound to him.
"Where did you come from, Anne-girl?" He whispers when they pull apart, his gaze searching.
"What kind of question is that?" Is all she can respond, her throat tight with the emotions she feels under his look. With a soft glance he returns his lips to hers, begging for entry and finding solace when she grants it.
Their hands turn frantic then, driving and searching for distraction as they pull at each others clothes and shift to lay across the blankets. When there's nothing left between them Gilbert sighs, his fingers tracing down her frame as his eyes follow.
"You're a wonder. You're like a balm that I can't live without. I don't know what's next for me but I know one thing for sure is that you've dug yourself a place in my chest and no matter where you are, no matter how much space is between us, I'll still have you here," he whispers and motions to his heart, his eyes never leaving hers.
"I - I feel the same. I don't understand how, but I do," she adds and reaches for him, dragging his body over hers until he's cradled in her embrace. In another second he's joined them, her mouth opening in surprise as he groans with the feel of her.
Neither of them speak after that, their hips and hands communicating for them as they rock steadily together. With mouths and fingers they rush each other forward, driving closer to the precipice as their hearts race and their breathing becomes erratic. Anne is the first to come apart, clinging to him as he drives into her forcefully, his hips almost painful as he holds her knees open and drives himself deeper. Her hands tangle in his hair, holding on as he chases his release. When he finally lets go its with a breathless cry, his face pressed into her neck and his hips starting to slow.
The tears come then, hot and wet against her skin as he holds tightly to her. Curling around him, Anne pulls the blanket over his shoulders and rubs soothing circles over his back as he lets the emotions run through. Later, when he eventually pulls away, she follows him and tucks herself against his chest so that there's no space for his memories to get at him as sleep takes over.
