Hi, everyone!

So... pretty much everyone thought waiting until chapter 19 for a kiss was worthy, someone wanted to send Fred a box of chocolates (much appreciated) and some guessed the song. In case you're still wondering, it's Technicolor Beat. There were as well a couple of... constant themes in the comments, for lack of a better word. First: please don't die! We really value you all as readers and would miss you a lot! Plus, we're just getting started on this part, and you're already dying? Hold on there!

The second one is a bit more serious, and it relates directly with our new section on the notes. It had to do with whatever happened to Anne. I won't go into detail- it's something that's kind of part of the story. But remember warnings and triggers? So, for today, the warning is: mention of abusive relationships. If this might be triggering for you, please take care of yourself and stop reading if necessary. It is important.

Now, music!

- Out of Thin Air (Instrumental Version) - Jesse Lawrence

-Gentlemen Don't - Jeremy Passion, Melissa Polinar, Gabe Bondoc

-He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother - Tommy Emmanuel, John Knowles

-Are You Down For Love - Instrumental Version - spring gang

-Just Do It - Houses On The Hill, Emmi

-Sincerely (From "Violet Evergaden") - Richmond Tang

-We Are Meant To Be - Dayon, Cody Francis

-Without You - BBC Session - Oh Wonder

-Murder Song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) Acoustic - AURORA

-Nothing Makes Sense Anymore - Daniel Gunnarsson

Chapter 20

The meeting went well. As good as Gilbert could ever hope it to go, anyway. Treatment looked promising and they had a couple of candidates so there was that. Looking at the time, he saw he still had about half an hour before his shift officially began.

**Gilbert Blythe (10:34): Coffee?

**Fred (10:36): Betcha. See you at Timmies. Order double double? Iced. I'll be there in ten.

"You look almost relaxed, Blythe, and I would have never guessed for that to be possible," Fred commented as he sat beside him. Gilbert turned to look at him, his smile so big he couldn't quite contain it. Even if there was something nagging him, he couldn't not be happy about the recent turn of events.

"Must be because I finally did it," he commented. He wasn't going to keep it from Fred. If he tried, his friend would know instantly he was hiding something from him and he preferred to decide how much to share and when. Fred looked at him, wide-eyed.

"You did? Gilbert Blythe made an advance?" Fred said, half-joking, half-serious, but his smile betrayed him: it was evident he was ecstatic for him.

"Don't be so cheeky. I did, yes. Never had the motivation before, doesn't mean I wasn't going to be able to, ever," he tried to defend himself. Fred laughed.

"So! Give me all the details! Everything! When was it? How was it? What happened? Have you talked about it so you don't go mad with your incessant overthinking?" he asked, and Gilbert chuckled. Count on Fred to act as giddy as he felt.

"Let's see… It was… last night, when I got home and somehow she was not as sound asleep as the other nights," Gilbert said, deciding there and then he was not going to share everything with Fred. He absolutely did not need every detail, so he chose his words carefully. "We kissed… It was… Pretty much perfect, and no, we haven't talked much. Had a meeting here early today, so I had to run."

Fred looked at him, as if he was examining him, and Gilbert already knew he was not buying the story. But he really didn't think talking to him on a hunch he had, and about Anne's intimacy, was the best idea ever. So he held the gaze, convinced he could win the battle. Or try his very best.

"What's really going on, Blythe?" damn Fred and his antlers of perceptiveness. Gilbert drank some coffee, not answering. Fred furrowed. "Blythe, you are transparent. Always been. It's not like anything you tell me I repeat- not even to Ella. So feel free to share, in confidence," and by how serious he suddenly sounded, Gilbert sighed. "I know something happened, because you have this look and you were picking your words as meticulously as you do with treatment plans. So I know there's something that is not adding up to you. If there wasn't, you would be just a puddle there telling me all about her freckles," Gilbert's hand shot to his nape, to scratch it as he felt so observed. "And you are doing that, now," Fred said, slapping his hand down and Gilbert bit his lips.

"Right. But this is not going out, ok?"

"Who are you taking me for? If anything I keep more stories in my head without ever repeating any than you could ever imagine," Fred said, looking at him. Few times Gilbert had seen him as serious. He sighed again, bit his lips for a second and thought of what to say, how to say it.

"So… She's holding herself back. Not something. I can tell this is herself battling with herself, because she is about to… do something, and then goes back to a safe place. Or stops altogether," he started, feeling his ears go red. Fred had the sense not to ask for more details than that. "And I am afraid this… thing she is holding about has something to do with any past experiences she might have."

"What do you mean, past experiences? Was she..." he had seen serious Fred before, but his look was starting to freak Gilbert out.

"No! Not that I know of. I know she's had some crappy boyfriends over the years, Cole and Diana would tell me that much, remember? When we were in Toronto and…" Fred nodded and he cut himself, wanting actually to get it out. "And the orphanage where I know for a fact she was badly bullied, almost on the verge of being abused, but she never gave any specific detail," he said. He looked at the floor. This talk made him uncomfortable. He felt it wasn't really his place to talk about it, but he was worried about her and frustrated so maybe it was, to some extent? And Fred was the psychiatrist, not him. Maybe he could give an idea that would help Anne.

"And you told me she keeps having nightmares?" Gilbert nodded. That she had decided to venture sleeping with him because it made it better only made him wonder how many times she had been waking up over the nights that he didn't know of. And the whole ten years in which he knew intuitively she wouldn't call anyone in the middle of the night as she had called him before. "Shit, Blythe. Is there anything else? I really don't want to intrude, but… kids that had her experiences, or what little you're telling anyway, often need therapy to overcome traumas, and you've told me she's never gone…"

"I don't know if she's gone over the past few years. She recoiled when I suggested last time," he sighed.

"You didn't answer. Is there anything else?" Gilbert remembered her bad nightmare a couple of weeks back, how she had almost had a full-on panic attack.

"She… almost had a panic attack after a nightmare. She used to have them before, sometimes," Gilbert sighed, his eyebrows crunched in his forehead as Fred looked at him. He did remember those anguished moments in highschool. "Also… flashbacks, I think? But she's not had any these past few months, so I don't know if she managed to overcome them? As I'm telling you, I don't know if she went to therapy over the past few years. I just know she closed the subject when I proposed it".

"Shit, man. This… I can't know if she went, either, but if she's having that kind of bad nightmares she hasn't solved everything, that I can tell you. She needs help or it will just keep coming back to her and it is not healthy. It can potentially lead to more disorders," Gilbert swallowed, because he knew that as well but had been wanting to think everything would work out. That he had decided on oncology didn't mean he did not have an idea of other areas of medicine. "Try and talk to her again? When she's relaxed, maybe take her out for a walk or something. Not somewhere she can relate to something she did, because then she most probably will do an association. Maybe suggest again that she goes to talk with someone? And take it slow with her for now."

"I will. Thanks for the advice. And believe me, slow has been the norm…"

"How so?" Gilbert made a vague gesture and Fred looked at him, confused.

"Whenever I went out with… any girl, I just followed their lead. It was easy because they were very forthcoming, most of the time," he explained, his ears going back to feeling hot. Fred chuckled, probably remembering Gilbert when he still pretended to date. "With Anne… I'm just asking explicitly for consent for almost anything since I noticed there was something that… wasn't quite right. And trying to reassure her. And… just generally, going slower than what I would think was slow. It's… It hurts, Fred. Just to think of the reason I'm doing it. I want to track these guys down," his voice was low, almost a whisper, but he knew Fred had listened when he felt his hand on his back.

"Important thing is that she has support now. And she's not alone on the other side of the country. So be there for her, ok?" Gilbert nodded, his jaw still clenched. "We should get back. I do have a patient at 11:00 and that's when your shift starts."

"Oh, I asked for a meeting with management to look into this regular hours thing. I have it later today, so cross your fingers? We could share a schedule."

"Finally! I will. Here's for your nine to five, dr. Blythe," Fred toasted with his coffee. Gilbert chuckled, standing up and stretching, leaving his tension behind to officially start his workday.

"Marie! Look!" Anne said to the screen where Diana's daughter was. A couple of days had passed and she had decided to call her bosom friend to show the latest changes to Gilbert's apartment. She had the back camera on and was introducing the girl to all the new plants. "So that is Gertrude…"

"So, Anne, now that you are redecorating the place, that means you decided to stay there?" Diana asked, when Marie evidently was not interested and left the phone to go play outside.

"No. It means his place was dead," Anne explained. She was still undecided between getting a place in Hamilton or going back to PEI. The island called her, with its friendly and welcoming forests, with her friends that were more than family. Even if Gilbert was here. Could he not want to move there? Go back home? So he could be kind of close by… Diana rolled her eyes in response and Anne ignored her. "So, have you decided on your updo for Jane's wedding? I wish I could be there to do your hair but this stupid pandemic doesn't allow me to do anything."

"Anne, you're hardly suffering," Jerry said, getting into the camera as well.

"Were you there? You don't work, have anywhere else to be?"

"I do work. It's Saturday, dummy. And I only have to be here. To annoy you," he said as he winked. Anne rolled her eyes.

"Jerry, go, there's nothing for you in this conversation. Go on," Anne said, the same way she used to dismiss him when they were younger. Jerry was about to reply when Diana interrupted them.

"Enough you two. Jerry, love, go and see Marie doesn't go into the mud? There's no point in teasing. And Anne, honestly, you are not thirteen. About the updo, I was thinking of this one… let me just send it, ok?" Anne received a picture and nodded. "It's too complex?"

"No, it should be easy. Some braids and a lot of bobby pins," she mumbled as she studied. "I think you can manage."

"I also wish you could attend, you know? With Gilbert and all…" and blushed at the implication, but still said.

"There's not a Gilbert and all, and you know that."

"You are too daft to be true. And that, I am telling you as your bosom friend. Have some trust, ok? It will be good, I can promise you that."

"How so, good?"

"As in you could finally have a healthy relationship?" Jerry said, coming back in with Marie in his arms, mud up to her hair. "I'm going to give her a bath, chérie. But seriously, sis, you could use some love. Real one. And Blythe apparently can do so," a comment that only made Anne blush more, but he just went away, no more words. So Jerry. Diana looked at her.

"It's true, Anne, you know?"

"Can we go back to your hair? So, remember the dutch braids I showed you last summer?" Diana pursed her lips, but nodded anyway "It starts with that, but then you curl your hair on the back and pin it, and frame it with the braids."

"I'm lost, now," Diana said, frowning. For all she was about the most elegant person she knew, Anne also was conscious of how, for Diana, going to any formal event implied paying someone to do her hair, makeup and everything else.

"We'll do it together and I can record it so you can have it for reference. Then on her wedding day you can call me again if you need to, ok? You'll do good, you'll see."

"It's still annoying not being able to go to a salon."

"Di, no one's going to one. So relax. It will be an intimate thing, not a fashion show, and if you don't show your parents the pictures everything will be fine." They talked some more, the subject of anything with Gilbert and her finally forgotten, and eventually they hung up. Anne rested on the sofa, looking at the ceiling, Jerry's words on her mind. He always had a knack for getting under her skin and she hated him for it. Also loved him.

But right now? Hated him. She'd had healthy relationships. As healthy as any other, she was sure. She got up and went to the kitchen to get water for the plants, as well as some scissors to cut the dead leaves. If she had coerced Gilbert into spending some $500 in plants she might as well keep them alive. And they were such dears.

"See, Robert? Daniel was good. He never yelled or anything," she commented to the monstera as she moved the earth around it a little bit. "He had not really a bad temper, he was just prone to getting his mind known. And he had strong opinions." So did she, so where was the harm? "We just had different views on life. Meaning I was still hung up on Gilbert, but hey? You're not repeating that, are you? What, Gertrude? I know you don't have those problems. You are plants, and so lucky for it," Anne continued, turning to the next plant and taking a couple of brownish leaves. "And don't even begin telling me about how sex it's supposed to hurt or not to hurt or anything, I'm not having that conversation. Most of you can be as asexual as it gets, but us humans have to deal with this, so there you have. No going out of it," she mumbled, in a bad mood. She walked back to the kitchen and threw the leaves as she thought, and then came back to the pots she had been talking to, arranged in a corner close to the window.

"You know what? Maybe it even isn't that bad. He makes it seem like it could be enjoyable. Like it wouldn't hurt that much and he wouldn't mind if I came next to him. Not like Lincoln, you know when he said… nevermind. The way Gilbert touches me… You know how you go all limp when your earth has been very dry and then you finally get water and you feel it going all through your capillaries? Like you feel in every part of your leaves how life is coming back? That's how Gilbert's touch makes me feel, Petunia. So different from Daniel's. And Lincoln. Oh gosh, don't get me started on Lincoln. So yes, maybe… maybe with him it could be different? Even my body reacts differently, acting on his own accord. And he hasn't said a single word complaining about that, he kind of looks like he enjoys how much I seem to lose control around him. So, maybe these girls do have a point in that group and it's not everything as bad?" She sat in front of them, holding her knees close to her chest. Now that she had started talking, she couldn't seem to stop her mind, wondering, imagining the possibilities.

"I mean, I know women are also supposed to come when they have sex, but it just has never happened to me… and I know for a fact guys dont like that, Lincoln was pretty insistent on that when I was close that one time. Diana says he was a git… But he was such a dear with me. Until he met Kim and left me," she reminisced. She remembered his dark eyes, dark hair, his aura of mystery and intellect that had been so alluring to her at 19. She looked at the cactus, so soft, so silvery. "But hey, good things never last, eh? And I can manage on my own. Especially when I'm already… turned on after Gilbert teases me. It had never been easier than the other day, what was he thinking, honestly… But how are you supposed to let go in front of someone else? Are you supposed to do so? I guess that's the real quandary of all this, don't you think, Raymond?"

The next few days seemed to go in a flurry. On one of them, Gilbert came to the apartment with the exciting news that his shift work would be officially finished when they came back from Montreal. He was stuck with evening shifts with no much rest day until Canada Day, yes. So it was going to be a harsh couple of weeks. But it was only a tradeoff, the best the managers and Gilbert had been able to come to. It was either that or moving him starting regular hours in October and that would not do. In exchange, they had given him a couple more days, so they would have a free day or two after coming back to Hamilton, before he went back to work. Then he would join Fred and the other doctors with regular schedules.

Anne was excited at the prospect, because that meant having him in the evening and not going to bed alone. She'd had a taste now of how it was sleeping with him. Two times they had fallen asleep together: the time from that bad nightmare, and then when she prepared the fort. That in particular had been her best night of rest in recent memory. No dreams at all, good or bad. These past few nights, she'd been by herself the whole evening, something she hated to admit was no longer used to. Only six months back this had been her reality, one she was used to and actually enjoyed, but now she was at a loss of how to have dinner and prepare to bed by herself, used to the teasing and constant chat with Gilbert.

She even wondered how that routine they'd had the past few weeks as friends would evolve now that they were no longer only friends (what were they, anyway?). Would he kiss her to sleep? Would she? Would they get together in bed, or would he stay up to read or watch something for a while as he usually did? She always saw there was light underneath her door when she slept alone in his bedroom. Now that they'd moved to the bed, letting the sofa bed rest after months of constant use and putting away the extra blanket and pillows, he had come every night to curl around her, snuggling in her nape until next morning, when she got up almost at sunrise.

The mornings had been filled with coffee, breakfast, hot kisses and lots of snuggling in the bed and on the sofa. Gilbert kept on his purpose of taking it slow with her, but kissed every available space in her arms, her shoulders, her neck and the upper part of her chest. He had not ventured any further yet, only once one hand venturing a little bit under her camisole. Anne was slowly getting more comfortable with his openness and eagerness to make her feel good, considering it might be actually real and it would not backfire, her letting go.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk this morning," Gilbert proposed one day. "There is this nice coffee shop in Durand. We can grab a coffee, go to the other side of the trail, the end you haven't been to yet, and I can drop you here before going to my shift," he detailed. He fully intended to take her out of her usual surroundings to have the talk Fred had suggested. He had not touched the subject of her nightmares or even her insecurities regarding intimacy in the very least over the past couple of weeks, just trying to care for her as best as he could. But he felt they could not avoid it forever, so he was taking her somewhere she felt comfortable at, like a forest, but wasn't her usual space, so she wouldn't associate it with heavy talks.

"Sure, why not?" she said. He had been working for nine straight days and he looked tired, but he had dismissed it when she had commented on it, referring to this as nothing compared to his residency. Getting a soy latte for her, a regular one for him, they set to the entrance to the trail that was closest. They had been walking for a bit, hand in hand, when Gilbert mustered the courage to speak.

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," he started. Anne looked at him, concerned. Was he kicking her out? She knew she had been a long time at his place, but he looked happy about it. Maybe something else? Was she being too forward? Enjoying herself too much? Made too much noise? Had she overstepped? "I haven't been able to shake off what you said the other day. About your nightmares," he explained. Anne frowned. Oh. Not that again. She could deal with enjoying herself too much, she'd done it before, but she didn't want to talk about nightmares. Gilbert saw her, her hand clenching over the cardboard cup. "Anne-girl… please look at me?"

He stopped and turned to be in front of her. She sighed, but looked up.

"What, Gilbert?"

"I want you to see someone that can help you. It's not healthy to have these kinds of nightmares and it can get worse," he said.

"Oh, and you would know," was her sarcastic retort, because he could not possibly know of what he was talking about. She motioned to keep walking, but Gilbert held her.

"Anne, please. I haven't experienced what you've been through. I know that. I wish I had, so I had better tools to help you. But at the very least I can support you on it. I am sure talking with someone can help you get better over this. If the orphanage is still haunting you, I don't know what else can be. I feel you're not telling me everything and I am here to listen, to help," he insisted, caressing the hand he was holding, hating the coffee cup in the other one.

"I don't need therapy. I manage well enough on my own. There are people who need it more than I do," she insisted. "Can we just keep walking?" He nodded, deciding not to go down that path anymore for now. Maybe if he tried down another one? They walked in silence for a few minutes. She was recalling the last nightmare she had, two nights ago. She had managed to handle it before it got out of hand. When he arrived, she pretended to be up reading and had not said anything about her bad dream. She could tell there was something else on his mind, but wasn't sure about asking. He seemed overly inquisitive today. As if on cue, he talked.

"I have also noticed… Please, forgive me if I'm being too forward. It just troubles me," he started, but realized he had no idea of how to ask without being blunt. She looked at him, frowning, already defensive. He looked down the trail, thinking it was good to keep walking. It gave space to think, at the very least. "How were the boyfriends you've had before me?"

"Before you? You're my boyfriend?" He blinked. He hadn't even thought about how his question sounded, too worried about how to ask about her previous sex life.

"Well, I'd like to be. If you'd like that, of course," he said, smiling softly at her and squeezing her hand a bit. She looked at their joined hands and felt her stomach fill with butterflies for the first time in years. A thrill she had thought extinguished. Gilbert Blythe, her boyfriend? She nodded.

"I'd like that," they walked a bit more. She considered his question. "I only ever had two. Lincoln and Daniel. One I met at uni. The other in Vancouver. Neither worked out. I was… We just wanted different things. Saw life through a different lense," she commented. They weren't you, mainly. It was harder to be with them than what it was worth, also.

"How were they?" he asked, her answer as vague as if she was talking about cars. No. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert talking about cars was bound to give more details. And she didn't know a single thing about any car.

"They were fine, I guess. Both had very defined opinions about many things. Were… a bit particular, but I guess all men are?"

"What do you mean, particular?" Gilbert asked, feeling there might be something there. She blushed instantly and he knew he was on the right track. She didn't elaborate. "You do know you can trust me, right?"

"Well, yes. But I'm not asking you… about what your old girlfriends liked, am I?"

"No. But I can tell you, if you wish. I don't care. They're not you and I don't think if you ever meet them any of you will get into a detailed discussion of what we did in the bedroom," he explained. Maybe if he shared something she would, too? A sort of exchange? Anne looked at him, curious. Maybe if he told her what he used to do, she would get a better idea of his expectations? "What, want to know?" she blushed more and he chuckled. "It's alright, Anne. So… what do you want to know?"

Her mind was suddenly full with questions, but some were so… descriptive, she was in no way asking them. He saw her blush even deeper and squeezed her hand again, winking at her playfully, trying to keep the mood light. They walked some more.

"So… you kissed them like you kiss me?" that was as good as anything. A starting point, at the very least. Test the waters. He chuckled.

"No. The way I kiss you… I've never done it before, Anne-girl. I have never felt for anyone what I feel about you, and I think that translates into the kisses. But… we kissed a lot, I suppose. I did kiss them in similar places, I guess," he commented, recalling. Anne looked at him, and then back again down the trail. He continued, as she said nothing else. "They seemed to enjoy it and if there's anything I care about regarding intimacy and sex, is that my partner enjoys it fully. So maybe yes up to some point, but not really because I was not as invested?"

"What do you mean, your partner enjoys it fully? I don't get it… I…" she cut herself shut. She would not repeat what Lincoln had told her so many times because saying it aloud to Gilbert seemed wrong and twisted and would simply not do. He looked at her, blinking. Confused. What did that question mean? He saw something cloud her eyes for a second and felt cold inside. This was not good. He had to answer something. Quick.

"Well… when I've been with someone, it is never only about me. That would be… selfish? I don't know the word. But it's something important for me, that she enjoys it. Makes it more pleasurable for me as well, you know what I mean?" She didn't, actually, but she was not saying that. An echo of Lincoln's words sounded in her head and she tried to stifle it. "Like, for instance… you know when I've kissed you and you let out these tiny whimpers?"

"Oh Gilbert I'm so sorry about that," she blurted. Because she hadn't contained them as well as she thought and he had noticed. He turned to look at her, stunned. This conversation was leaving him speechless, and for all the wrong reasons.

"Don't be sorry, Anne. Why on earth would you be sorry? I just love them, they tell me I'm doing something good and arouse me even more. Why would you be sorry?" he asked, before being able to stop himself, completely astounded by her apology. She was even redder than before and swallowed, looking at her cup.

"You mean… you don't actually mind them?" She asked, a tiny voice.

"I'm telling you, I love them. I love getting out reactions and whimpers and everything out of you," he said, hoping she didn't think he was mad. She didn't say anything for a while, looking ahead, thinking. He looked at her, worried. "Please never silence or limit yourself?"

"Women are to be felt but not heard...," Anne mumbled to herself. If they had been anywhere with any more ambiance noise, he would probably have missed it. But they were not and the only noise was the occasional song of a bird. Or the wind in between the leaves.

"What was that, Anne?" he asked anyway, because he could not have heard correctly. She shook her head quickly and he felt livid. Who had told her that? The words were perturbing in general, but coming out of her mouth they made even less sense. Who could have said this to her and how to make her believe it? It wasn't like her, to reach that conclusion by herself. She was so… vivacious, and independent before. Fighting for equality all the time. From that to what she was saying was an abysm so big he couldn't even fathom it.

"So your girlfriends… they… enjoyed themselves?" Gilbert looked at her. He had actually forgotten the subject. But that she asked him that was just adding more fuel to the anger he felt already burning in him. They changed the course and put the cups in a trashcan.

"Unless they lied, yes, I think so. Probably sometimes more than others, but in general, I think they did," he explained succinctly.

"And you liked that?" Anne asked, examining the tips of her hair as they kept walking, clearly trying to avoid his eyes.

"I think we've established that, yes," he said as tenderly as he could, squeezing her hand lightly. As furious as he felt right now, she was the last person on earth who should receive any of his anger. She bit her lip, thinking. This was new information.

"So…" she began, but then stayed quiet. If he enjoyed that, could it be that he actually would not mind if she came? It would be true that she could express everything that formed in her?

"So…? Anne, I don't mind talking about it. It's sex. It's normal. It happens when people love each other or are attracted to each other and decide to go for it in a consensual manner," he felt the need to explain so much because it didn't seem to be evident for her. Somehow. She put the hair behind her ear, more as something to do with her hand than because it was bothering her.

"So… they came? When having sex? Before?" Her voice was very quiet and her eyes were firmly on the trail's floor. That they were on the ground was good right now. Eyes there meant no eyes to see his clenched jaw. Or his furrowed brow.

"Well… yes. And no. It really depended. Sometimes before. Sometimes during the actual penetrative sex, I guess. Sometimes more than once. Sometimes after. Sometimes they didn't manage even if we tried. Same as I didn't all the time, either. It's just real life, sometimes you have too much on your mind or can't find the way… but they did, yes." He didn't ask if she did, because the implication of her question was clear. He looked at her, her furrowed brow, as if she was processing that what he said could be real.

If they had an actual orgasm while having sex how were they not thinking about how much it was hurting? How was that possible? If he was as… attentive as he said, he would have noticed if they were in pain, right? And would probably tell her. He had always been honest like that. Gilbert always told the bad stuff even if it hurt, because it was better than any lie.

"And it didn't hurt them?" Anne finally asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"What didn't hurt them?" She motioned something abstract. "Anne, I'm seriously not following here, I'm sorry. What could hurt them about sex?" He asked, honestly concerned, hoping Fred's question from the past week hadn't been more on point than what he thought at the moment.

"Well, sex, of course!" She answered as if it was obvious. He looked at her, as blank an expression as he could muster because if anything he was actually thinking went to his face, she would certainly not react well. Were those bastards animals or what? "As in, yes, they were aroused, I get it they were before… the actual… and apparently they managed to reach an orgasm… sometimes…" she stammered. She seemed skeptical about the whole climax thing, he could tell, but he couldn't have imagined everything back then. And she wasn't there. "But it didn't hurt them, the actual…?"

"Why would it?" She had been blushed for ten minutes straight, but she did some more, if that was possible.

"Well, when the… have you ever had sex, Gilbert?" she asked, a bit exasperated in her utter discomfort. Either he hadn't or he was mocking her or she was missing some key information in this whole business.

"I have, and I don't seem to follow you. If the woman is aroused it should not hurt her unless she has an infection, vaginismus, dyspareunia or a hormonal imbalance. Or is going through menopause, which certainly was not the case, and some more obscure conditions that are really not usual," he explained, and she could tell this was his clinical view of the matter. So probably true. "So, because we took our time or were already aroused by some other reason… no. It didn't hurt them. It would have worried me, if it had. Would have meant there was something amiss." The only thing he wanted to ask in that moment was if they had forced themselves on her, because that was what it seemed like.

Anne nodded, frowning at the information. She seemed to have a thousand questions more but didn't dare to ask. She felt like she didn't know anything by this point. Either that or Gilbert was tricking her. But what was more plausible? Lincoln and Daniel treating her like shit, as Diana and Cole and Jerry and Roy had always insisted, or Gilbert making up tales?

"So they never said it hurt? Or that it was too rough?" She asked, only to confirm. He was beyond angry now, and trying his best to not show anything. He turned so they could head back and he walked in silence for a moment, reigning his temper.

"No, Anne. They didn't complain about it hurting. If something did, we adjusted accordingly. As for the roughness, it was entirely a matter of preference, timing and mood, but it was certainly not one-sided and more likely asked for when it happened."

"So do you like it?"

"I like what?"

"Sex. To be rough." He went quiet to think for a minute. Well, he did. Sometimes. Not all the time. But whenever the mood was right… it could be great. And he was not going to lie to her.

"Not as a general rule, Anne. I like to enjoy it, mainly. I like the person I'm with to enjoy it even more. If some days that means taking things slow and gentle, then that's the way to go. If other days either has some need that can only be satisfied with something more rough, then that may be the way that day, if we both agree. I don't impose. Think of it as teamwork."

"Teamwork?" she repeated. She remembered how he had referred to both of them as a team. Years and years ago. So foreign a concept compared to whatever she'd had with Lincoln and Daniel.

"Yes. Teamwork," he insisted, because he knew she would get the hint.

"I like the sound of that", she commented. He lifted their hands and kissed hers.

"I do, too. Teamwork and trust, Carrots," he added. She bit her lip. If anyone had asked her about the person she trusted the most in the world, his name would have been first all through her teen years. The years after? Cole, without any doubt. Cole and Diana. And now? She would dare say he was gaining his way upwards again. It was more a matter of trusting herself. "Don't you trust me?"

"I do. I don't trust myself, Gilbert," she said after a moment. He clenched his jaw, but she didn't notice. For all he was trying to appear collected and cool he hadn't been able to stop cursing in his mind for a while.

"With anything in particular?" he ventured.

"With any of this. It's… I don't know what is real and what it's supposed to be like," she mumbled, as she recalled how sex was always asociated with pain as penetration came, with the need to control herself, with how she sometimes got so close but never quite there, too afraid to let go. It had seemed she was into it, then. Neither of her boyfriends ever forced on her. That Daniel liked to be rough… That was just the way he was, but he was never violent, really. Never even left a bruise, anything that she could relate with actual violence.

"Mainly, it's supposed to feel good and liberating and fulfilling. A way to connect on a deeper level with your partner, but also to have fun, to play. You're supposed to feel good. I would love to show you, when you're comfortable, if you so wish," he told her, stopping their walk again and looking her in the eyes, trying to convey this message at the very least. She tried to hold his gaze, but eventually laid it on his shoes. "You can trust me, it won't hurt. And if it did, we would try something else. And if we ran out of options, we could go and see if there is any real cause for concern." She nodded, still looking at the floor. "Carrots? I'm up here," he said, smiling softly. She lifted her head, until her eyes met his. "That's better, Anne-girl. We can figure it out together, ok?"

"Ok," she whispered. He hugged her and she burrowed herself in his chest, the place in the world that had felt the most secure since she had arrived at Avonlea. Except for Matthew and Marilla's hugs. But Gilbert's had grown with her and he always represented everything that could be. He kissed her head, holding her, trying to push out of his mind the anger and bad mood. At least until he dropped her home. He only needed to know one thing more. Because otherwise he might go mad.

"Just one question, love," he said, feeling his stomach heavy with anxiety, and not daring to ask the question looking at her. "Did either of them… or anyone else, ever force…"

"No, Gil. It was… nothing felt forced at the moment," she interrupted him. He nodded against her, willing to believe her. "I don't know how to look back to it, now, after… What you've told me. But it was never forced. I was there willingly."

Notes:

Ok. Let's all take a deep breath.

So. First things first: It is important that, before judging Anne (or the story, or us) harshly, you take into account the bigger context. Her experiences since she was a toddle up to when she arrived at the Cuthbert's. Those years don't magically disappear because she finds the right, loving family. If only! Adults that went through foster homes have more mental health conditions. It's horrible, and there are many things that should be done both to prevent that and to support these adults, but it is what it is. You can actually read about the prevalence of some disorders here: .

Second, we're not inventing the wheel. From the first chapter of the series Anne exhibits behaviors and things that could be associated with a mental health condition. It is something we're exploring in this story. We love Anne as much as any of you- we just try to keep the good and the bad. She's only human and was only a girl.

Third, if anything of what was talked about here resonates with you, please, please go talk with someone you trust and a doctor. If said doctor dismisses it, go to another doctor. If those two fail, find yourself a pelvic floor therapist. Consider therapy as well if you've had difficult relationships or just anything you would like to have some objective support. It can do wonders. Change your life. I promise.

Fourth, if you're able to, go take a walk outside and breathe. If you're under lockdown, try to move your body today. Some exercise. Look for some yoga on youtube (there's bound to do something).

Life is beautiful. Have a lovely, lovely day. We'll see you on Wednesday.