Hi, you all!

We are completely overwhelmed by the response we got for the first chapter. This has been a labour of love over the past few months and truly is a joy to see its reception.

Just as a head up: we're updating every Saturday for the being. Don't worry, don't fret, we'll be here next week. Pinky promise.

Music for today, if you're at all interested in following up with the soundtrack we prepared:

One day at a time - Ensidya
Conflicted - STUTS
Leader of the band - Dan Fogelberg
Coisa mais linda (solo guitar) - Antonio Garcia Isaac
Do the Panic - Phantom Planet
The train ride home - Taiyo ky
Where's my love - SYML

...And that all before the chapter, enjoy!

Chapter 2

Anne was just sitting at a vacant table, determined to look at all the accommodation options, paid or free, the city had to offer, when her phone started buzzing again. She fished for it in her coat pocket, leaving the double double on the table. Diana was way too impatient. She didn't even look at the number before answering.

"Diana, I told you, I will think about it. Happy?" she said in an annoyed and frustrated voice. Diana was way too impatient.

"Anne?" she suddenly felt very cold, and then very very warm. Her heart stopped and she was left without a voice. Everything at the same time. Gilbert was surprised by her greeting as much as for her answering, Fred making a ridiculous dance. Maybe she was waiting for a call from her friend? Surely she didn't have his number, she wouldn't have answered. He braced himself to the conversation. "Nevermind, obviously it's you. Diana called me, she says you're stranded in Toronto and need a place to stay?"

"I have a place to stay," she groaned after a few seconds. She was going to kill her bosom friend. She was so, so dead.

"Until tomorrow, yeah. Look, my shift ends in about half an hour. I can pick you up at your airbnb in about two, considering traffic? Diana gave me the address," why the fuck was he so polite? How come he was so fricking practical and nice when they hadn't exchanged a word in over ten years? Gilbert was improvising a plan as he went, doing his best to guard his words and keep everything to a minimum. He knew he had to: if he spoke any word out of line she would surely hang up. And now that she had answered he really, really wanted her to accept. He still knew her and her stubbornness, and if he was doing this, then it would be done effectively and ideally with as little discussions as feasible. He would deal with the aftermath when she was gone. He had done it before. "Anne, focus," she felt she was turning even redder.

"Gilbert, I am fine. Really. I'll figure it out." she groaned. She didn't want to speak with him. Not now. Not ever.

"For sure, like you figured out going for a holiday when every single country in the world is closing borders. Be serious, Anne. I'll pick you up, as soon as PEI is open you're on your way and we each go back to our lives."

"First, I am not on a holiday. I have more sense than that. And second, I don't need you" she heard him sigh on the other side. He had known that for years. When he was still trying to talk to her, it had been a recurrent remark on the very few times he managed to get some sort of response out of her.

"I've taken notice, yes," he said in a quieter, somehow sadder voice and Anne felt something clench inside her. She dismissed the feeling promptly, still firmly against anything inside of her clenching because of him. "Let's meet at your place at half past seven, ok?"

"No, Gilbert. It's not necessary. I can handle this," she insisted, a bit harsher than previously.

"Look, Anne, I have no idea how you found yourself in this situation. I am just trying to help because Diana asked. I have no need for this. So, can I pick you up at 7:30?" He was getting tired. If she didn't accept now, he was not going to push it more. He really had no need for any of this. His life finally made sense. He wanted her to accept but was not going to push. Anne didn't answer immediately. She could see a group of homeless people from the window and she dreaded ending up like that. If it was either ignoring Gilbert at his place or this, she could ignore Gilbert. Stay forever in the guest room.

"Fine," she finally growled in a low voice. Gilbert wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

"Come again? Can you repeat that?" Ok, he had heard, but he just wanted to savor this small victory.

"I said yes! I accept! Happy? Yey, you just managed to convince me to go with you. Woo-hoo, should be thrilling," she answered sarcastically. She was in a bad mood by now. Gilbert didn't answer anything. "But there's no need for you to pick me up, just send the address. I can get to your place on my own. There's certainly enough public transit around." she insisted, her voice slightly milder.

"You'll take forever. More than an hour from Toronto. And I'm not comfortable with you going around with your bags in a crowded place right now. I… do you have a facemask?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly as he was entering the supply room. She couldn't be just walking around as if nothing was happening, right? She was stubborn but not stupid.

"Of course I don't, they've been saying they're only for front line workers," Anne answered. Gilbert sighed. Exasperated? Worried? She didn't even know (he didn't eiher, for that matter). And she was done trying to understand him or read his tones.

"Please tell me at least you have a scarf" Anne looked at her huge scarf, the same one she'd had since high school. The one she had stolen from Matthew at some point, only to have her guardian chuckle. "Forget it, I know you do. You always have one. Look, please wear it whenever you're inside and keep away from other people? And cover your mouth and nose?" he pleaded, worried.

"Relax, Gilbert. It's not that bad," she said. The news wasn't so bad. Yes, Europe seemed to be in a bad situation, but Canada was no Europe. Or at least it didn't seem.

"It is, Anne. Please. Take care of yourself. I'll be there shortly. I have to go now, they're calling me, but I'll meet you at your airbnb. Ok?"

"I guess," she answered, resigned. Nothing in her life ever worked out as she wished.

"Ok. I'll see you. Wear your scarf up. Bye now" Gilbert hung up and Anne looked stupidly at her phone for a few minutes. What had just happened? A new notification appeared on her screen, followed by another one.

**Gil (17:13): It's Gilbert. Save my number.

As if she could possibly not have it. It was the same one he'd had since highschool. And she'd never had the heart to erase it from her phone. It always seemed more definitive than all the other places she had erased him from. His old nickname stared at her.

"Everything alright, Dr. Blythe?" a nurse asked him. He nodded, passing a hand through his hair. What had he gotten himself into? Fred had left him on the hospital door with another joke and he had gone up to the oncology floor on autopilot. His phone buzzed. "Patient in 508 is ready for check-up."

"I'll be right there. Thank you, Jeanne." He looked at the notification.

**Diana (17:13): So?

Gilbert shook his head, not wanting to deal with Diana and her weird request right now. He still didn't even know what to think about his conversation with Anne and was trying to organize his mind on how to go about it. He should probably bring her a facemask, god only could know if she had already caught this virus already. And a thermometer. He would look into that before leaving. He sighed, before knocking on the door with the number 508 and getting there, trying to put his best face and not the i'm-about-to-pick-the-love-of-my-life-who-hates-me face.

His shift was finally over and he was about to go pick up Anne Shirley-Cuthbert after having effectively managed to avoid each other for ten years. He took off his scarf and coat and threw them in the back before starting the engine. His car was cold. He fished the phone again, deciding it would not do to ignore Diana for ever. There was a new message, only from a couple of minutes back, just confirming her intensity on the matter.

**Diana (17:42): Gilbert Blythe answer back or I'll call you. I still haven't been able to get hold of anyone else in Ontario so I'm counting on you.

**Gilbert Blythe (17:45): Breathe, Diana. I'll pick her up.

**Diana (17:45): Great! So glad everything worked out. How was she?

**Gilbert Blythe (17:45): She was… hostile.

**Diana (17:46): Of course she was. It's Anne. You just have to crack her hard exterior. Again. Gilbert, thanks for this, really. She wouldn't have called you and I can't think of anyone else in Ontario.

**Diana (17:46): Plus, I think it'll give you both a chance to smooth things over.

**Gilbert Blythe (17:46): There's nothing to smooth anymore, Di. She never gave an opportunity for it to be.

**Diana (17:46): Maybe now?

**Gilbert Blythe (17:47): Stop it with the pout emoji. Not becoming on you. Just pray she doesn't kill me in my sleep? I'll talk to you soon. Keep you posted.

**Bosom friend (18:45): You're welcome. Now don't be an ass. Love you!

**Anne S-C (18:46): So not ready to talk with you now. I feel ambushed.

**Bosom friend (18:47): You'll thank me later. Still love you. Marie says hi, make sure to call one of these days because she thought auntie Anne was coming and now she's sad.

Gilbert opened Google Maps, pasted the address Diana had sent him and drove off, trying to distract himself with music, Leader of the band by Dan Fogelberg playing from the playlist he had chosen. Getting on the highway, he thanked that at least for the portion back they would be able to use the high occupancy lane. God, he hated going to the city. The traffic was heavy, but he was so absent minded he almost didn't notice as time, streets and cars flew by.

You have reached your destination , the GPS finally told him. He was in front of a decidedly dodgy place. Even if there was no impending pandemic, there was no way he was letting Anne sleep there one more night.

**Gilbert Blythe (19:32): I'm here. Need help with bags?

**Carrots (19:32): Of course not. I'm a capable woman. I'm going out, which car?

He felt his mouth go dry. He hadn't seen her nickname willingly appear on his screen in more than ten years. Well, there was no going back, now. She was staying with him for a couple of days. To start. He was a bit more pessimistic about the evolution of the pandemic than he cared to admit and knew it would more likely be a couple of months.

Anne really didn't have much. She had sent boxes of what she thought was worth something back to Diana and Jerry's place back in Avonlea a couple of days ago. Only three. Turns out, not much was worth anything. She had left the furnished apartment, packed the few belongings and mementos she had of Green Gables and the Cuthberts, and her clothes. Those were actually few: they had sold the furniture to pay for debts years ago, only staying with a small share to furnish the small apartment where Marilla had lived her last days. That was still in a warehouse back in Charlottetown. And she didn't have anything else: after highschool, she had thrown everything that reminded her even slightly of Gilbert Blythe. Even against Marilla's advice. After that, she hadn't been one to keep stuff, always living with the bare minimum, trying to detach the memories from the things. She feared going through the same thing again.

So now she was just traveling with a small carry on and her backpack with her computer and her kindle. Reviewing one last time the check-out process in her phone, she closed the door to her room, slipped the key under the door and turned to exit the building. She took a deep breath. Ten years she had managed to avoid him. Even with all of Diana's machinations, Ruby's insistence and even Cole's encouragement, she had been able to not see him.

Only in the dark of night when she stalked his instagram and then deleted her search history, as to not be ashamed in the morning for her weakness.

Her phone buzzed again.

**Gil (19:33): Honda Civic. Dark red. Just on the front of the building. Take your time.

She would survive this. She was an adult, and even if he had managed to look even better each passing year, she would be able to separate his looks from everything else, as nothing good had ever come of befriending Gilbert Blythe. Only a couple of days and then they could go and be strangers again. Forever, hopefully. Wrapping her scarf to cover as much of her face as possible, just so he couldn't see her, not because she was following any advice, she went out.

Turning after closing the door of the building, she was faced with Gilbert Blythe. Who was staring at her with an expression she could not pinpoint, so hidden it was beneath a facemask and so inescrutable his eyes. He was just so surprised to see her, even if he was there to pick her up. Like, real Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, flesh and blood, in front of him for the first time in a decade. She seemed slim under her coat. Her face… was mostly covered. He couldn't see her hair from where he was and was actually praying she didn't dye it.

Anne was studying him as well, just trying to do it discreetly. It seemed like they were some kind of animals, a predator and his food. Only who was holding which role, was lost to her. He did not look anything like his last picture from instagram from over three years back. He looked tired, with a stubble that made itself known on the sides where the mask didn't reach, bags in his eyes and oh so very sexy. Even in those horrible doctor scrubs. She felt herself turn red and thanked the combination of scarf and woolen beanie that covered most of her face. He was waiting out of his car, the trunk open, looking as uncomfortable as she felt. Damn Diana. Something on his hand.

"Hey," she said, walking over, trying to sound unaffected. He met her and took the carry-on.

"Hey, Anne. Long time, no see. Is this all?" he asked, putting her bag on the trunk. A bit impressed with her lack of luggage. Wasn't she supposedly moving from the west coast? She nodded and he closed it, walking to the drivers' door. He was not about to ask for details. He passed her the mask and thermometer he had picked up on the way. She looked at him, frowning. "This is for you. I'm really sorry, because I know they're uncomfortable and all, but I work with very immunosuppressed people and shouldn't take more risks than necessary. Please, take your temperature for the next two weeks? Should you have fever we can figure it out from there."

"Are you serious?" she asked, not wanting to bare her face in front of him. Not yet. The thermometer she could use for as long as he wanted, she could do that in exchange for his guestroom. No problem there.

"Dead serious," he said.

"Can't I just leave the scarf on?" she asked. He considered it for a second. She did have several layers of thickly knit wool in front of her nore.

"For when you take it off, then. Ok, let's go. Hungry? We can grab some take away on our way." She got up on the passenger seat and felt her heart skip a beat. His car smelled so much like him it was like being transported to 2010. She put her scarf closer to her nose to try to escape the foreign familiarity and ground herself. He breathed again when he saw a hint of a braid in between all the wool from her scarf and the beanie. "Anne? Dinner?"

"Oh, right. Sorry. Yes, whatever you want" she said dismissively. "Just. I don't eat…"

"You've been vegetarian since middle school. I know. Unless something has changed?" he cut her. He seemed tense. She could tell by the way his jaw clenched. She shook her head. "Are you sure you're leaving that scarf on? The car is warm." He just wanted to see her face, honestly, but was not about to ask. He had a thousand questions in his mind. What had she done to lose her job? How come she had no savings? Why did she have only the tiniest luggage if she was moving all through the country?

"I'm fine" she mumbled, looking out of the window, her nose in the familiar wool. She couldn't get herself to breathe all the gilbertness in the car. He didn't answer and they continued in silence for most of the way. He tried turning on the radio, thinking the Spotify playlist he had on before might be a tad too sensitive of a choice right now (it was plagued with songs from their high school years), but at that moment they were playing one of their high school songs and he turned it off again, cursing mentally. Maybe Spotify would have been safer, he could skip songs seamlessly there. Too many memories. Do the Panic by Phantom Planet was too much right now.

"There's a great Indian place that has take-out. Sounds good?" she shrugged, looking at her phone. He sighed.

"Yeah. Indian. Yummy," she answered vaguely when she felt his eyes on him.

**Anne S-C (20:04): I will kill you Diana. You just wait. I. Will. Kill. You.

**Bosom friend (20:12): I'm doing you a favour.

**Anne S-C (20:12): I fail to see that. It's the most uncomfortable I've been in ever. I don't even know how to talk to him. I don't know how to exist next to him. And he's uber paranoid. Got me a mask and a thing to check my temperature.

**Bosom friend (20:13): for starters, get off your phone. And talk. Never killed anyone. Ask something about the weather, where he lives… And he's been like that since always. Just follow what he says. You know how over-cautious he is.

**Anne S-C (20:13): I can't do small talk with Gilbert Blythe, Diana. I'd rather be silent. Just. Is he married? I never knew.

**Bosom friend (20:14): Of course he isn't. He's never even considered. Why do you ask?

**Anne S-C (20:14): Ring on his finger?

**Bosom friend (20:14): Just a token he chooses to wear because he's a sap. Don't pay attention to that. I promise I didn't put you in a married man's house. Wouldn't do that to you.

"Let me pay for this. You went to pick me up, after all," she insisted when he was about to pay in the restaurant. He looked at her, about to protest, but seemed to surrender himself and passed her the terminal. They received their paper bags and continued until Gilbert turned to the parking on a low-rise building.

"It's not…. very organized. I apologize. Had I known, I would have done something" he said as they walked down a corridor.

"Don't worry. I'm sorry to impose. It was really unnecessary, I still had tonight at the airbnb and the roaches were starting to become fr.." she caught herself joking, and stopped mid-sentence, uncomfortable, looking anywhere but in his direction. She couldn't joke with him. It still hurt. It was still raw. After all these years. She felt him tense at her silence.

"Code for the door is 0305. Well, welcome home," he said, ignoring her comment as he opened the door and turned on the light. She tried very hard to convince herself that the code was a coincidence and in no means related to her birthday.

He went in and took off his shoes, leaving them on the rack beside the door. Anne followed him and started undoing the laces of her boots. He closed the door as he waited for her. She looked at him, uncomfortable. Being in his house she felt even more self-conscious than she had in the car. They were only at the threshold and everything screamed Gilbert Blythe in the place. She finally took off her scarf and beanie and he felt the air leave him. That's how beautiful she was even when she didn't mean to. He forced himself to react as she dutifully put the mask he had given.

"I'll give you the tour. I'm sorry it's not much. So, here's the entrance. Kitchen is straight here, feel free to look around for anything you need," he walked a couple of steps and turned on a light, small, clean straight kitchen that ended on an island. He walked over there and she followed him. "Breakfast bar…" he turned to the right and turned another light on. "Dining room," he motioned over the table and then turned, adding "living room. I'll be sleeping on the sofa," he explained when they passed in front. Anne had to stop him there.

"No, Gilbert. I'm… I came here unannounced and uninvited. I'll get the sofa."

"My house, my rules," he said, referencing a very old saying they had in high school whenever they couldn't agree on the way to do something. Whoever's house they were in, won. She sighed.

"We're not sixteen anymore," she countered. He looked at her, turning, his eyes with an unreadable expression.

"Believe me, I am aware," he answered finally, voice tight. She did not look sixteen anymore. Then again, neither did he. Would she ever give him a second look? How she ever managed to maintain her stubbornness was beyond him. "Anyway. I'll sleep on the sofa and that's final. Here we turn and get to the entry again. Down here, bathroom, use whatever you need. That goes for anything in the house, you don't have to ask," he entered to wash his hands and Anne followed him after he sent her a stern look. It wasn't so small it felt cramped, but they were closer than they had in years. She tried not to focus on his smell but in his methodical hand-washing pattern. She was sure it was not that he drowned in perfume or anything, he just had always had the most particular and exquisite scent and her mind had hidden the memory. Until now. They got out of the bathroom. "Washer and dryer are in this closet," he opened a door and closed it when Anne nodded. "Bedroom's here. I'll change the sheets for you, but let's eat first" he said. His bedroom looked so nice. So… manly, but peaceful, even with the undone bed and the pile of dirty clothes next to it. A dresser close to the window, full of framed pictures she couldn't detail in the dark.

"Gilbert, I'm not sleeping on your bed," she declared, her voice firm. She was seething. He looked at her. "I don't care about your rules. I will not sleep on your bed. That's what is final"

"Anne, be rational. I have the weirdest schedules and won't have you sleeping on the sofa when I barge in at four in the morning to prepare coffee. That's why, it's not that I don't believe you can sleep there," he answered, his voice equally harsh. Anne looked at him, frowning, as unhappy as she could be. Plus, he hated to admit this, but she would be more isolated if she was already sick.

"I don't mind being woken up."

"Yes, and I am Billie Andrews, pleasure to meet you," he answered sarcastically. She sighed in frustration, a thousand remarks coming to the front of her mind but biting them all. She knew she was being difficult enough when he was being hospitable, but she just felt so confused and uncomfortable about every single thing. She couldn't stomach sleeping there. She didn't want to think how many women had been there. She didn't even want to smell his pillows. Maybe she could sleep with the scarf? Gilbert saw her resolve diminish and tried not to smile victoriously. "Come, let's eat."

Gilbert showed her where to find the things in the kitchen. She didn't comment when she saw he still had the mug they've bought when traveling to Halifax with the school. She had had a similar one, only she threw it after the bonfire. Along with all the other things that reminded her of him. The mug was not the only thing: there were a thousand memories in the things in his apartment that seemed to scream to her. How could he live like this? How could he not care? Weren't the memories hurtful to him? She felt her heart ache when she saw each one.

They sat on the table, Gilbert on one side and her on the other, as far as they could, still in tense silence. Each eating a different dish. For her, some chickpeas in a curry sauce with potatoes. For him, some chicken something. She hadn't really paid attention when he ordered. But everything was yummy. The vegetable samosas were perfect. When they were done with their dishes, neither moved.

"Look, Anne. I know this is… not what we had in mind. Not for today, not for ever," Gilbert finally said, his voice resigned. They might as well be honest. She kept looking at the tea in her mug. "But that's not to mean I'm not glad to be able to offer you this space. Stay as long as you need. I don't mind."

"I do," she mumbled. He sighed again. He had so many things to discuss with her, but was well aware it was not the best night to do so.

"I… don't know how much you know about what's happening, Anne" he tried, because he felt that Anne thought this was a thing of a night or two. She looked at him, confused. "With the pandemic?" she nodded and gave him some vague facts. "Ok, so you have an idea. Good. It's just… at the hospital, we really think it's going to get much, much worse. We've had over 20 cases this month only. I know it doesn't sound like much, but take into account this thing was discovered not three months ago. This is only the beginning, and I don't want you to get false expectations. I really doubt PEI is opening the borders next week. It's an island and bound to take advantage of that fact to prevent more spread. I actually believe we're on the verge of going into lockdown here in Ontario" Anne looked at him, stunned. She had not been expecting that. "Do you still have health insurance?"

"Well, the B.C. one, it expires in two or three months. But I believe it only covers me there. I was planning on applying to PEI's again." she answered, dumbfounded.

"Shit. We need to get you coverage. Or private insurance," Gilbert tapped the table impatiently as he thought.

"Gilbert, you're scaring me," she said. Because he really was. He ignored her for a moment and looked for something in his phone. Well, there was no way of her applying to Ontario's unless she had a proof of address. He would check with the hospital for a private one in the meantime.

**Fred (21:26): How's the making up going?

Gilbert looked at the notification and shook his head. What was Fred expecting, exactly? It's not like they were being kept apart against their will and were going to have senseless sex after their reunion. They had been actively avoiding each other for ten years.

**Gilbert Blythe (21:27): Don't you get any ideas on your dirty mind, Fred. This is as tense and uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I need ideas to get her insured, she only has provincial from BC.

**Fred (21:26): Well, marry her. Done.

"Gilbert!"

"Sorry. I'm trying to think of something. I'll speak to the hospital tomorrow, see what we can do."

"I honestly don't think it's that urgent," she said.

"I don't think you get it, Anne. It is a serious disease. People are dying. Have you seen the news, how Italy and Spain are right now? You've been in plenty of risky places as it is and you haven't protected yourself. I need to be sure you will be safe and be properly cared of if you get sick."

"You don't have to take care of me!" Anne exclaimed, furious. Gilbert looked at her, livid.

"I don't have to, but I always will," he said earnestly, an eerie fury in him. Why was she so difficult?

"Funny way you've had to show it!" she yelled at him, suddenly channeling her seventeen-year-old self. He was about to answer, but she didn't give him any chance. She had so much to get out of her system but was trying so hard to stay shut. She was at his place, after all. But she could lock herself down. Take advantage of having to stay in his room. She could even pass it as self-isolating, he had given her a mask and something to measure fever, for god's sake.

She got up from the table and went to his room, closing the door loudly. Realizing she had left her carry-on next to the door she growled loudly. Gilbert was still seated, not knowing if saying anything would just make the situation worse. Then he heard the door open and he saw her go for her bag, and then walk quickly back again. Gilbert sighed. He waited for a while and then decided to go to his bedroom door. He knocked lightly, but didn't open.

"As a suggestion, you could take a shower and I can change the sheets while you do that," he tried. Today was not the day to talk, he tried to think. He heard a grumble or something and knew she was still mad. Of course she would be. Her comment showed all the resentment he knew she had, and that was not going away just like that. He figured they would have many more conversations, or discussions, before she ever could talk normally to him again. If it ever happened. He rested his forehead in the door and waited for a moment. "Or you can sleep in my sheets, if you don't mind and prefer not seeing me again. I only changed them yesterday so they're technically clean," he said. Still nothing. He cursed mentally in frustration and pressed his forehead against the door, clenching his fists. How she was so stubborn was beyond him. "Look, I'm sorry if I said something to offend you. I just don't know how to live and not take care of you if you are around. Please, when you change into your pajamas leave your clothes out here so I can put them in the washer with mine, I think the precaution wouldn't be too much. Good night." He left the door, clenching his jaw.

Anne was sitting on the floor of his bedroom. Scared to go to the bed and coward enough not to open the door. I just don't know how to live and not take care of you if you are around. What did he mean by that? He couldn't possibly care for her. Not after all these years. Not when he had… She looked for her phone, trying to distract her mind. It would not do her any good to keep ruminating on long lost hopes.

**Anne S-C (22:08): So guess where I am.

**Cole (22:10): Your crappy airbnb?

**Anne S-C (22:10): Gilbert's place. Hamilton.

**Cole (22:10): WTF?!

**Anne S-C (22:10): Diana set me up. She likes to see me suffer. I think all these years she has hated me secretly and now she's found a way to express it. I need help. I don't know how to be here.

**Cole (22:10): You do know. You do what you have wanted to do for ten years and fuck him. And then you both can be happy persons again, you get to be a couple, the gang will be able to breathe and stop tip-toeing and then we all have a happily ever after.

**Anne S-C (22:11): Not funny. You're not helping. Plus, he's hotter. When did he get hotter? Why? Just to torment me when I got stranded at his house?

**Cole (22:11): When he finished med school and started working out. Not that you would know. And I don't think that was the purpose of it. So, how's it going there?

**Anne S-C (22:11): Bad, of course. I already yelled at him and now I'm locked up in his room, with his smelly sheets.

**Cole (22:11): What? Smelly sheets?

**Anne S-C (22:11): Everything smells like him. Like his unique scent. The one I told you drives me crazy?

**Cole (22:12): You're mental. Well take advantage, woman, and sleep in that bed.

**Anne S-C (22:12): Please don't tell anyone about the smelly sheets. Or his smell. You're the only one I trusted with that. Not even D.

**Cole (22:12): Safe with me. Now to bed, Anne. Apologize tomorrow

**Anne S-C (22:13): Or any day in the foreseeable future, as he thinks I won't be able to leave his house or Ontario for weeks.

**Cole (22:14): Don't want to scare you, Nana, but it is getting bad. There's talk about extending the closure of the island's borders and I heard they declared a state of emergency in Ontario.

**Anne S-C (22:14): Shit. I don't want to live with Gilbert Blythe, Cole.

**Cole (22:14): It's your best bet for now. I don't see you travelling any time soon. Plus, he's a doctor. Plus, I'm pretty sure he won't charge you anything for the rent so you won't starve. And, you've wanted him since forever. Now get into bed and sleep. Roy says hi.

She got up reluctantly and considered sleeping on the floor. Only she would need the blankets and then the point would be lost. She looked around, maybe he had some kind of cushions? But there were only two pillows, hunched together. There was no way or telling which one would be less him. She sighed and opened her suitcase, looking for her pajamas. Of all things to have when stranded with Gilbert Blythe, of course she had to have only some shorts and the camisole Marilla had sewn when she was a teen and she insisted on wearing despite the white fabric being kind of transparent more than fifteen years later. She left the bundle of dirty laundry out the door, as Gilbert had said, and locked the door again.

When she got into the covers, she couldn't help but be transported back to Avonlea, when she used to sleep at his place so often. The familiar scent, the softness of the sheets, everything seemed so close to her heart but still so painful. She closed her eyes, determined to go through the night.

Meanwhile, Gilbert went to the linen closet, where the washer and dryer were, and took out a second warm duvet and some sheets. Organizing the sofa bed, he turned on the tv and tried to distract himself. Only he couldn't. He had not seen Anne in ten years but he also felt like he had seen her yesterday. He knew most major facts about her life, as he could never help asking Diana, Cole and the rest of the gang about her. She was even more beautiful than she was when they were teens. How, he couldn't even understand, because for him it was impossible to improve something that was already perfect. Yet here she was, proving him wrong. On top of everything she was sexy as hell. How come she was still single? How did he agree to call her at Diana's request? Why? Was he a masochist? He was just so weak.

**Diana (22:05): Sooo?

**Gilbert Blythe (22:06): Still hates me. I'm going to bed, Di.

He felt as disheartened as he thought he would be. He needed to think better before impulsively doing anything just because it had Anne in it. He had finally been doing reasonably well without her. Maybe… tomorrow would be better? At least he would have the evening shift, so he would be able to escape the house for a while. And he had to shop for groceries in the morning, what he had in his pantry would not do for her. He hoped she was comfortable in his room, he knew for a fact he had a nice mattress. An idea crossed his mind but he dismissed it immediately.

He still went and picked her laundry, putting it directly in the washer with his scrubs and starting the machine immediately, then washing his hands. Probably he was being paranoid, but he preferred to err on the side of caution. He went back to the sofa and tried to distract himself and ignore the ever growing idea.

When Gilbert saw the sliver under his door go dark, he waited for a while, still trying to get the thought out of his mind. He went to prepare a cup of chamomile and still debated with himself. Trying to distract himself from what he wanted to do and to see reason. He was a responsible adult. He was not about to… well, just a peek to see if she was ok or needed something would be fine, right?

He went as quietly as he could, still struggling with what he thought was right and what he wanted. He waited still a moment and then opened the door slowly. There she was. The pillow oddly wrapped in her scarf (why?) her hair going everywhere. With the low light from the hallway, he still could make out her features, peaceful for once in her sleep. Before he noticed, he was in front of her, watching her breathe softly and thinking everything was already as bad as it could get, decided there was no harm in taking the hair off her face. He caressed her cheek softly with the back of his hand.

"Sleep tight, Anne-girl," he mumbled before going back to the door and closing it behind him with a sigh.

On an end note, please take care of yourself. We're in this together. We're all tired of this. We feel you. But if we've gone about nine months like this, couldn't we go for a bit longer?

Many places around the world are in lockdown or going back to lockdown or taking measures in different ways. Please, take care of you, your loved ones and the grandparents of the people you don't even know. Wear a facemask even when it's uncomfortable and keep some sensible distance away. Do as Gilbert says: a face covering and a hockey stick lenght apart. It was the actual measure they were giving around here, and it's a good mental image (Gilbert skating with his new stick, anyone?).

For the guests who left reviews, thank you! We are so glad you're enjoying this story.

Anyway! Enjoy your weekend. Leave a comment if you're so inclined (we read them all, we are overjoyed by them all), and we'll see you next week.