Notes:

Please, if only today, read the whole notes (even if you tend to skip them)

Hi, y'all!

So... We were blown away by your comments. Like we couldn't even believe how understanding, insightful and enraged towards the right fictional characters you all were. It was absolutely amazing and we thank you all for that. We were a bit worried (ok, I was a bit worried) of someone somehow blaming us because this version of Anne doesn't align with theirs, and it never happened. It was a relief.

Now, let's continue with the story... If last week was mention of abusive relationships, today is... A bit more complicated than that. People, this chapter might be triggering. I'm not downplaying it or telling it to be safe, I'm saying it because it was deeply triggering to write and I had to step back when writing several times, and then when editing it. And I knew what I was writing and how and what would happen. So please, please, please read with caution and stop when you need to, if you need to.

You know yourself the best. If you'd rather skip the worst, please follow the instructions at the end of the note. There's no shame in self-care. That's not to say that by skipping the worst nothing bad will be there. It's one of the hardest chapters in this story, so even if you plan to skip the worst, proceed with caution if you know this might get to you.

So, topics covered here: PTSD, panic attacks, anxiety disorders, nightmares, flashbacks. This is not a walk in the park.

Now, for the playlist. The music goes really well with the chapter and it's one of those we really recommend listening to. Here are the songs:

-Intro - RAY

-I Wanted To Leave - SYML

-The Rivers Told Me Lies- Daniel Gunnarsson

-Shadow - Akira Kosemura

-Loneliest Girl In The World - Cary Brothers

-Distance - Akira Kosemura

-i do - Ilaria Graziano

-Eternal Slumber- Yonder Dale

-Waiting - Alice Boman

-Freddie's Theme - Stephan Moccio

-Lonely Star - Oh Wonder

-Tu guardián - Juanes

-You Would Have To Lose Your Mind - The Barr Brothers

-That's How It Is - Paul Freeman

If you'd rather skip the most triggering part, read up until you find a line with asterisks and then skip until the next one. Again: that just helps skip the worst. And there's no shame in doing so. You'll understand in wide terms what happened even if you don't read it.

Chapter Text

Practice asterisks line, so you know what it looks like (nothing triggering right now, just so you know what to look for later).

"Fuck, Diana, you better pick up this damn phone now" he told the monotonous tone that was ringing in his car speaker. He was in the parking lot of the hospital, some fifteen minutes before his shift.

"Hey, Gilbert! What's up? How are you?" Diana's happy voice finally answered.

"Why in the fucking world does Anne thinks sex should hurt and she shouldn't enjoy it?! What kind of assholes in their damn twisted mind could get that idea into her mind and how did you allow it to take root? And hell, can you explain why on earth she dated those hosers? Those animals?!" he was mad. His jaw was as tense as it could get and his voice was strong, yet strained, as he tried to reign it to not actually yell in the secluded space of his car. His hands tense, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel of the shut down car as something to hold on to.

"Gilbert…" he heard Diana say tentatively after a few seconds of tense silence.

"Damn, don't Gilbert me, Diana! This shit is downright fucked up! The woman I love had traumas of her childhood, yes, but this ? This is shit. Don't even tell me you knew damn nothing about this shit. I wouldn't fucking believe you. She is about the most passionate and expressive individual I've ever met and she thinks she can't be herself with a man in bed? What the fuck is that?"

Gilbert was mad. He had been since they were walking. He had tried to calm down on the final stretch on the walk and had strived to be as caring and loving as he could, not wanting Anne to know how affected he was by everything. But as he dropped her at home on the way to the hospital, he had not been able to hold it any longer. Had Diana and Cole said nothing to her all this time? Nothing at all? He knew for a fact (one he would rather forget, thank you) that Diana and Jerry enjoyed a… very expressive and colourful sex life. He didn't have to catch Cole and Roy in the act as well to know they did so, too.

"Gilbert, it's not like we…" Diana tried again, but he was not having any of it.

"Don't come and tell me you didn't tell her anything about those two assholes. Why would you let her be in a relationship that clearly is not healthy? Shit, Diana, she apologised! She fucking apologised when she realised she had let on that she liked something! I have half a mind to go look for these two wads of shit and give them both a piece of my mind as well!"

"Wait, Gilbert, what?" her voice actually sounded surprised.

"Lincoln and Daniel are their names, I believe? I know you told me they weren't the best of boyfriends, at the time, but this fucking shit? This is criminal. It's almost like they…" he stopped his ranting only because the lump in his throat was becoming unbearable, not knowing anymore how he felt. Angry? Frustrated? Powerless? Sad? "I was not there, I know, but… Shit, this is… Fuck, it's like they broke her, somehow, and I..."

"Gilbert, listen to me. Take a breath, you're choking," Diana instructed him. He tried, because he knew she had a point, and rested his forehead on top of his hands, that were still on the steering wheel. "We have been telling her. For years. Even since she met Lincoln… Roy can even tell you more about him, they shared some classes and he was with her every step of the way…"

"Wait a second," he said, as he heard a tap on the window. He lifted his head and saw Fred's concerned face, a coffee in hand. He pressed the button to open the door and Fred went around the car quickly and got into the passenger's seat.

"Blythe, what…?"

"Hey, Fred!" Diana said.

"Diana, fuck, please continue or I swear…"

"Yes. So, she met Lincoln at Uni. She had this very romantic ideal… You knew her back then, it was not long after graduation. Dark, handsome, depressed, the works?"

"And fucking Lincoln fit that shitty profile from hell? Only in misogynistic, twisted and fucking way?" Fred looked at him, opening his eyes, as it was not usual to see collected dr. Gilbert Blythe using so many swear words, jaw this tense, eyes slightly red. Gilbert rested his forehead again on the steering wheel, not wanting to face his friend and willing Diana to continue.

"Unfortunately, yes. And she was in a bad place at the moment…" the implication clear, if it was just after high school. Gilbert swore more and jerked off Fred's tentative hand on his back. "So there was nothing we could do to end things with him. Believe me, we tried. Even Jerry did and you know he usually doesn't meddle much, but here he was as overprotective as I've ever seen him. So she was pushing us away, and in the end we'd rather be there for her than let her go with this git and know nothing, you know?"

"Diana, this is messed up," Gilbert answered.

"Believe me, I know. We were happy when Lincoln somehow met someone else and left Anne. She felt like shit, again, convinced everyone she'd ever love was going to leave her when they met another girl… And I'm sorry, Gilbert, but you set a horrible precedent even if you didn't mean to."

"Fuck," was Gilbert's only answer, feeling worse about the whole business.

"But at least she wasn't with that asshole, eh? So anyway, we tried for years to make her understand that she deserved someone better, who could actually love her, and then one day she calls me and tells me about Daniel. She's in BC by now, and I can't actually meet the guy. Never did. She never brought him to this side and when we visited he was never around. And… I'm not sure how much she told you, because honestly I'm just trying to figure out things out of your rant, but he was… probably as bad as Lincoln, and not really an experience that could prove our point that love can be good and pleasurable."

"Got the idea, yes," he leaned back and saw Fred take his own phone out. He rested his head, looking at the roof of the car.

"Hey, Ms. Phyllis. This is dr. Wright. I'm with dr. Blythe here. He's going to be a bit late, can you reschedule his first appointment? Yes, family problem. Thanks," he said as someone answered on the line. Gilbert moved his hand, motioning a thanks in the heavy silence that was hanging on the car.

"Gilbert… It's not that we didn't try. You know her as well as we do. She is stubborn and when she finds a logic in something, as twisted or nonsensical as it may be, she clings to it if it means the world makes sense again."

"I know that, Diana, it's just… I could have never fathomed any of this," Gilbert answered after a moment, feeling suddenly very tired, deflated and with a ringing headache. He sighed, massaging his nape with one hand, the other one rubbing his eyes.

"Who could, back then?"

"Yeah, right…"

"Listen, Gilbert… Forgive me if I got it wrong, ok? But… before, I got the idea that something happened between you guys? Finally?"

"Shit." Clearly, he had not been thinking what he was saying.

"I'm guessing that's a yes?" Gilbert didn't answer. "Gilbert?"

"It's a yes, Diana, only this git doesn't want any of your gang to know yet because he's a sap. Could you keep it quiet, please?" Fred answered, eventually, as he saw the conflict on Gilbert's eyes.

"Oh. Ok," was Diana's answer. She seemed to collect her thoughts for a second before continuing. "Look, I understand how messed up this is. Because I've been trying to tell her for years. But… If you are with her, maybe actually showing her instead of me telling her abstract things might be what she needs?"

"What she needs is self-esteem and trust, Di, and for all I want, I can't give her that," was Gilbert's answer.

"You can't but you can support her, Blythe," Fred said.

"That's a given," it was not even a choice, for him to be there for Anne.

"But also show her, Gilbert. Support her, but… show her, as well. How's she doing after you talked about this, anyway?"

"I just left her home about twenty minutes ago. She seemed quiet, but mostly fine, I think."

"You think?"

"She was quiet. But she didn't have any of this… absent minded expression she used to get when she really was in a bad shape. So my guess is, mostly fine," he explained.

"Check on her later? I will call her as well. Whenever she discusses any of this, she… gets a bit emotional. You're working till late?"

"One in the morning. I… please, don't tell her about this? She'd probably have my head if she knew I spoke with you about this. Both of you," he added, looking at Fred. He nodded.

"I won't say anything, but I'll call her either way this evening. As a catch-up call," Diana said. "And Gilbert? Don't be so hard on yourself. This whole situation is shitty, yes, but it is not your fault. Her issues go beyond this."

When Anne saw Diana's name in the caller's ID later that evening she didn't know if she wanted to answer or not, and finally decided to ignore the call, put the phone on silent and throw it to the other end of the sofa. She was in no fit state to talk with anyone right now. Since Gilbert had dropped her at the apartment, she had tried to keep herself distracted from her own mind.

That had meant going for a run, first. She hated running and had a terrible condition, but panting along the dirt seemed to quiet her mind for the best of half an hour. After her shower, she realized that the spiral of thoughts, of memories and of truths she had carried for years had come back stronger than ever. She thought about posting the photo she had taken while running, but could absolutely not come for a description to save her life. So she didn't.

Then, she tried talking to Gertrude and Robert and Raymond to no avail. Instead of helping her clear her thoughts and divide what seemed to be real now (what Gilbert had told her) from what apparently was not (Lincoln's and Daniel's words regarding anything to do with intimacy), she had ended up more confused than ever.

Everything had seemed easier before. Keep quiet, enjoy silently, deal with the pain when penetration eventually came and take care of yourself when alone. Easy peasy. Predictable. A known routine of stifling sounds and controlling her senses and feelings. She knew how to do that and had believed it was the rule, that it was normal.

Deciding to try one of the tried and trusted Marilla's advice regarding a worried mind, she decided to make herself of use in the kitchen and started baking. And baking. And baking. Gilbert could take any of the surplus to the hospital if need be. Kneading helped her let out some of the frustration she felt, but the nagging of her mind still held steady, like a constant shadow. Her memories of Lincoln and Daniel somehow meeting Billy Andrew's and Regina, everything becoming an oddly mess of memories in the back of her mind.

The thoughts came back one after the other as she did small balls of dinner rolls until she could not hold it any longer and decided that if she cried the way she felt like doing, it would not be the end of the world. Only it seemed like it was, as once she acknowledged the lump in her throat and allowed the first tear to come, she couldn't stop the rest and ended, hands and t-shirt full of flour, hugging her knees on the kitchen floor as she sobbed.

She managed to get up later and seeing the over-proofed rolls she turned on the oven and decided to bake them anyway. Homemade bread was homemade bread and no one would turn it down, even if oddly shaped. She checked her phone, intending to try and distract herself with some mindless scrolling, but found an old notification from Gilbert that made the knot in her throat return in full force.

**Gil (14:20): How are you doing, Anne-girl? How's the day treating you?

**Anne S-C (17:53): All good.

One thing Anne would not do was worry him as he worked. Because she did know he worried, and she did know inside her that she could trust him. But she couldn't allow her need for company, any company, to distract him from his patients. They were more important than she was. Turning on the oven light, she saw hypnotized, tired from the crying and the running, as the small breads grew and got a golden brown. Perfect. Taking them out, she put in the next batch of bread, trying to keep one task in mind at a time. That used to help when she found herself in that state.

She still felt lonely and, even if she didn't want to disturb Gilbert at work, she wanted to speak with someone. Diana would not do- she had never talked with her about any of this, not without her trying to convince her how she had gotten everything wrong. And she had never talked to sweet, loving Di about the orphanage. Perhaps she could try with Jerry, because he did know mostly everything… but that would mean having to deal with Diana as well. She knew Cole was busy that night. Perhaps… perhaps Kak'wet? She looked for her phone again, frantically, and called her kindred spirit. Again, when she didn't answer.

"Hey… It's me. Call me when you can? I… I could use to talk to you. Please. It's… Shit, why can't I keep memories in the past where they belong? They just keep haunting me, Kak'wet, and… Just call me. Please," she managed to say before hanging up.

When she felt her stomach rumble, Anne realized she had not eaten anything since the coffee in the morning with Gil. Maybe she could have some bread? It was already late, the bread-baking time consuming when she tried to put her full attention to it. She put one on a dish, slathered it with peanut butter as she warmed some water for tea. Seating in the sofa, book in hand (last batch of bread out of the oven now), she went to take the first bite and felt nauseous.

Anne cursed. That's the last thing she needed. She looked at the bread, trying to tell it to make himself more appetizing, to cooperate and let her eat it, to do something that meant she was not losing it completely again, but instead ended up sobbing again with the warm bread and the peanut butter squished in her hand. Shaking as she tried to control the sobs, she left the dish carefully on the coffee table.

Cleaning her hand somewhat with a napkin, Anne blew her nose (again) as she sat on the bed. She would have a shower and then she would sleep. It didn't matter than she'd had one already earlier in the day. She could not get into bed in the state she was in or else she wouldn't fall asleep. She got up again, washed herself methodically, going through the motions, setting the stream in the hottest setting she could manage. Then, she went into bed wearing her pajamas and the hoodie Gilbert had been using, trying to convey him as much as she could.

Gil would hug her and tell her what was real. He would wait for her to dust the impulses, the urges, she had felt when she was first in a relationship and had stored away, convinced by Lincoln they were bad and repulsive. He would help chase Regina and Billy away as he had done before. With him, she could get to be who she had been meant to be, maybe? She could maybe stop quieting herself? Could what she felt when he touched her actually get all the way to get her to come, and that be well received?

When Gilbert went into the house he felt something was off. There was an inconceivable amount of bread in the kitchen he had only seen once or twice before- both times, when Marilla had been worried out of her mind. He could just see the shapes of the towers of rolls in the darkness. Which didn't bode well, considering the circumstances. He left his shoes in the rack next to the door quietly and went to the bedroom, sliding off the suspenders from his shoulders. He was starting to open his shirt, fully intending to curl next to Anne after his shower as he had been doing every night since she decided to get into the sofa, but stopped suddenly on the threshold.

He had expected her to be all curled on one side of the bed. But the blankets were very undone. And she was not there. He frowned. This was not good. Going around the bed, he feared she might have fallen off, but she was not there either. He turned on his tracks and went to check the bathroom, turned on the light of the kitchen (when could she have baked all that?) and decided to go to the living room before freaking out and calling her.

Anne was hugging her legs, sitting in front of her plants. Trying to count each leaf to prevent herself from crying, but feeling as tears streamed down her cheeks all the same. The nightmare had been the worst she recalled- and that was saying something. 113… 114… 115… As much as she had been trying for the better part of an hour, she still had not been able to get herself together as she usually could. The memories had been interlaced with terrors and her usual nightmare companions- Billy Andrews and Regina. But now they had been joined by Lincoln and Daniel and everything they had said or did to her.

Making out her shape in the shadows, Gilbert rushed himself to her, kneeling at her side. He saw her tears and knew instantly something was very wrong. Her eyes were void and she seemed concentrated on something, and shook her head when he tried to get her attention. Anne kept counting the leaves, convinced they were the only thing that was going to keep her from falling apart completely. 121… 122… 123... She thought she was succeeding. For all she might be still crying, she had been able so far to control the tremmors and the ringing in her ears, so she had to be getting somewhere. And Gilbert finally getting home was not going to distract her from finally calming down.

"Anne-girl, look at me," he insisted, putting a hand on her arm. She shook her head again. 130… 131… 132... "Anne, please look at me," he repeated in a firmer voice. What was happening here? She sighed shakily and turned to look at him. She had been waiting for him, after all. Everything was going to be alright when he came home. "What happened? How can I help?"

She tried to speak, she really, really tried, but felt something in her throat so big she thought she might choke. So she closed her mouth and shook her head again, trying to breathe, to let air get through. Gilbert frowned, looking at her strain.

"Anne, are you ok? Look at me now. We are going to breathe together, ok?" She looked at him, but the ringing on her ears she had been able to control so far was getting more and more intense, and soon she could not make out any sound he was making. Too much pressure in her ears, she could feel her heart pulsating and she tried breathing quicker, thinking shallow breaths might help.

Gilbert looked at her and knew instinctively he absolutely had no idea of what to do with what was happening in front of him. Doctor or not, he was at a loss. Shit. He recalled Diana's words from the morning and reprimanded himself for not coming back early, making out some excuse at the hospital. He took a couple of deep breaths, conscious he had to keep it together to be able to be of any help. Help. Ok. So he could call the hospital… from where they would eventually send an ambulance… He could take her there and have whoever was on guard look at her… That took time. As she curled into herself, her hands covering her ears, he knew he hadn't time. He took out the phone of his pocket, praying.

"Blythe? It's almost 2:00. Is everything alright?"

"I need you to come to my place now. Something's wrong with Anne and I'm freaking," he managed to say.

"Gilbert, breathe. I'm on my way. What's happening?"

"She's not responding. Like she can't hear me. She's…. Fred, please come?" he was panicking now.

"I'll be there in ten. Is she hurt?"

"It… I don't think so."

"Is she breathing normally?" he looked at how she was covering her ears with her hands, that were twisted in a weird way, her breathing shallow as if something was attacking her. "Gilbert!"

"She's hyperventilating? Hands are…"

"Have you touched her? Did she recede?"

"I have. Hand on arm. She didn't, what…"

"Hug her now and help her breathe to your rhythm. Explain what you're doing. Your door code is the same?" Gilbert confirmed, swallowing. "I'll be there, already in the car," he shot up and went to hug her from behind.

Anne jerked, but didn't attempt to move him. She didn't have the strength or the will. She felt a strong tingling in her arms, in her feet, around her mouth. She couldn't move her fingers for all she wanted. Pressure in her chest. Her head was going to explode, the ringing strong and the pressure so high.

She was so sure she was smelling St. Albans again, the scolding from the matron and the laugh from Regina the only sound she could make out distinctly. She was trash, as they were both telling her that day she had managed to get muddy while playing outside, and she was suddenly six again, so sure that no one would ever want her. The words of the matron telling her how unlovable she was covered in dirt. The smell of the spring mud and from the first flowers. The sun shining brightly on one of the last cold days. She felt so, so cold, but was sweating so much.

Gilbert felt relief as he saw Fred, clad in pajama shorts and a t-shirt, come into his house. He had a case where he knew his friend kept his first aid stuff and tried not to feel even more scared. Fred didn't even watch him, but kneeled in front of Anne, worry in his eyes. She was breathing better now, a bit longer and steadier, and the tingling persistent but not as painful. She felt she could move her fingers slightly again.

"Anne," Fred said. Her eyes were still shut hard. "Anne. This is Fred here. Gilbert's friend. We are in Gilbert's living room. This is safe. You are safe here. Feel the wood below your feet. It's Gilbert's place. Do you feel the floor?" She did, somehow. Flat. This was not the muddy grass. This was flat. And smooth. "Anne, feel that floor. Feel the wood. Do you feel it now? Let me know you do, Anne," Fred was looking at her intently. He repeated the same words over and over again, his voice calm, until he noticed the tiny nod she managed after a while. He kept repeating over and over the same sentences in the same soothing voice. "That's good, Anne. You are doing great here. Feel that floor. You are safe here. We are here with you. Still feeling the floor?" she nodded, a bit stronger. "Good, Anne. You're doing great. Keep feeling that wood. Can you open your eyes for me? You are safe, here, remember that."

Gilbert saw as, slowly but steadily, Fred kept talking to Anne and she started responding more and more to his soothing voice. He let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding when Anne finally spoke, telling Fred she was in front of him and a plant. She kept hanging on his words as if they were a lifeline, brushing bit by bit the matron's words, the muddy floor. She tried answering his questions, trying her best to see what he was seeing and not the orphanage.

"Tell me what you can smell, Anne. What is the smell now?" It was mud and flowers and spring. Wasn't it? "Anne, tell me what you're smelling," Fred continued, nonplussed, his tone as steady as it had been since she had heard him first. She tried again. Mud and spring flowers. And the matron was there again, yelling at her, and there was mud in her shoes and… "Anne, look at me. Don't close your eyes. Look at me. Feel the floor under your feet?" Was it mud or was it wood? Was the matron yelling? "Anne, tell me if you feel the wood, please." It was wood and it was Fred. She nodded tentatively. "Remember, you are in Gilbert's living room. You are safe here," she felt her breathing become shallow again, confused. She closed her eyes. Orphanage or Gilbert's living room and mud and… All she could hear again was the matron, and Regina's laugher, and.. "Anne, breathe with me now. Breathe in while I count…" Fred continued, and started over again.

Gilbert did not know how long Fred talked to her but he didn't dare to move from his place behind her until Fred offered her his hands to help her stand up and then guided her in the direction of the bedroom. He stood up as well, feeling stiff, trying not to think of how Anne must be feeling. She let herself be guided by Fred, the orphanage finally behind for the night. Or so it seemed for now, at least.

"Blythe?" Fred called him. He looked up, his sight fixed on the floor as he followed them as a puppy.. "Maybe make some warm milk or tea? I'll talk with Anne for a moment, and let you know?" he understood he was being dismissed and nodded, going to the kitchen, and heard the bedroom's door close quietly. He found himself amidst an explosion of baked goods and hated them for what they implied. He set himself to prepare some warm chamomile with honey, in case Anne wanted some later.

Meanwhile, Fred sat next to Anne on the bed. She felt much better, now that she was not trapped on her mind. Just exhausted. Everything ached. Her ears especially, but all her neck and back and head were sore. Her hands had the ghost of the tingle still in them. She flexed the fingers tentatively. She sighed, and then took a deep breath, as if she was coming out of deep water.

"How are you feeling now, Anne?"

"Like shit. I'm sor…"

"Don't you apologise. There is nothing to apologise for. We are here for you. We love you. Do you want to talk about what happened?" Fred asked gently, holding her hand. She shook her head lightly. "I won't tell anything. Not even to Gilbert. Where were you, before?"

"The orphanage…"

"Has this happened before?"

"Not like this… I mean, I've had nightmares since I can remember. I have.. I don't know…" how was being transported back in time called?

"Flashbacks?"

"Yes. I've had them. Not often. Not like this," she mumbled, her sight on the floor. "Never like this."

"They are nothing to be ashamed of, Anne. They don't make you any less. You are brave and strong and can overcome this, ok?

"I don't think so, Fred. Everything's been here forever. Only they had never mixed," she said. Because that was where the biggest problem was rooted tonight. A nightmare coming to life.

"What had never mixed?"

"The nightmare. Mixing with a flashback. I couldn't escape," she said, feeling how her eyes filled with tears, again, and rubbing them furiously. She was tired of crying.

"My opinion remains the same. You can overcome this. You have us to support you. We can help you get help. External help, so you can feel better talking about your things if that's a concern. Would you like that?"

"I don't need therapy, Fred. I'm good as I am. There's people who need it more."

"You don't compare yourself with anybody, ok? No one is a point of reference in terms of going to therapy. There is nothing to be ashamed about going. And would you call how you were feeling just now being good, as you said?"

"No, but still. I can't… It's expensive."

"This is not a matter of it being affordable Anne. This is about you feeling good, being healthy and enjoying everything about life. One step at a time. Wouldn't you like that?" she thought about Gilbert, about finally letting that orphanage go, about…

"Yes, but I can't go, Fred. I can manage. I've done so before."

"Anne, please forgive me if I'm blunt. You are not managing, as you say. Having a nightmare followed by a flashback and a panic attack is not managing. Being so caught up in it you take almost an hour to get out of it is not managing it either. You need help and we can help you receive it. Forget about the cost. Forget about other people needing it more than you do. Forget about thinking you are strong enough. You are strong. So strong. But being strong also includes accepting help," Fred explained, looking at her and speaking with a serious tone. She swallowed. "No one is going to judge you or think less of you. Whatever you talk about in the sessions is not going to be shared with anyone, so it will be a secret between you and who you're talking to. And with time, you will get better. And you will be able to manage it better. There is no shame in therapy. If you ask around, you might get surprised with the amount of people who have gone. Some people go even when they are feeling good."

"They do? Why?"

"To sort out problems. To manage their thoughts," Fred proposed. Anne nodded, feeling more convinced by the idea. "Do you want me to look into it? You could start even later today. I know a good therapist who is doing sessions by zoom, right now. If I ask him, he can probably give you a space."

"Does Gilbert know him?" The last thing she needed was to go to therapy with another friend of his.

"I'm not sure. Maybe they've met at some point? But they are not friends. I'm proposing Patel because he is detached from both of you and he is good," she nodded. They stayed in silence for a moment, and she pondered Fred's words. Her resolve waning. Maybe it could be better. Maybe she could sleep well every night. Maybe she could get away from the orphanage just enough so that it didn't trap her. Fred was looking at her, no pressure or judgement in his eyes.

"Ok. I'll try," she accepted after a while.

"Let's make a deal, you and me. You try for a month before saying it's not working, ok?" she nodded. "I'll send you the details later. Now, do you want to sleep? I'm guessing you are bone tired right now."

"I am…"

"Hop into bed, then," he said, standing up. Anne did as well and Fred shook the duvet so the bed was almost as freshly made, and motioned for Anne to get in. She obliged, resting her head on the pillow, and he sat next to her, again, tucking her in. "I don't think you'll dream much anymore. But if you do, wake Gilbert up. It doesn't matter what time it is. I'll coach him in a moment on how to help you. The sooner you catch this, the less intense it's going to be, ok? If he is not here, remember what we did. Breathe deeply, counting. Feel the soles of your feet. Look around and talk about what you are seeing. Describe what you're smelling. Talk about what you are listening to. Aloud, not on your mind, ok?"

"Ok."

"That will always help you. Panic attack, nightmare, flashback. Talk about what is real," she nodded again. "Ready to call Gilbert back in?" another nod. "Oy, Blyhte? Come here, will you?" Gilbert appeared on the threshold, worry etched on his eyebrows and a cup of chamomile with milk and honey in his hands. He went over them and offered it to Anne.

"How do you feel?" giving her the cup. He had some tylenol on his hand and offered it as well, guessing she might be achy after all the tension.

"Tired. Achy," she answered as she accepted it, straightening a bit. Her whole body hurt.

"Drink that, then sleep. I'll be in the living room if you need anything. Blythe, come talk to me when you're ready?"

"Want to spend the last of the night here?" Gilbert offered. Because it was nearing half past three in the morning.

"Why not? I'll text Ella so she doesn't worry in the morning," Fred said, going back to the living room. Gilbert took the place he had been occupying.

"How do you feel? Truly?" he said, caressing her cheek. She drank some more, stifling a yawn. God, she hadn't been this tired in years.

"Tired. Achy. Ashamed of this," she mumbled.

"Don't be ashamed, Anne. I'll send a message to the hospital, see if I can stay with you tomorrow. You'll be ok by yourself for a bit?"

"I think so," she answered. He received the empty cup and tucked her in, leaning to give her a peck before going out, closing the door behind him.

"I don't know how to thank you for this," he told Fred as he went to where his friend was writing something on the phone.

"You don't have to. Maybe give me one of those breads?" he proposed. Gilbert shook his head.

"Come have your pick. And then take some home, I have no idea what we're going to do with them otherwise. So, could you talk with her?"

"Yes. She accepted speaking with someone. I'm setting it up in the morning before she can change her mind. She's…" he seemed to consider his words for a moment. Gilbert looked at him. "She's in a bad shape, but it's not alarming. So I truly think she's going to be able to sort this out with some help in a few months."

"That's some good news."

"What happened today, Blythe? First I find you in the parking lot as angry as I've ever seen you and then this?"

"I feel like it's all my fault, to be honest," Gilbert confessed, because he had managed to screw up royally as a teen, had started the conversation in the morning, and then had not been able to help her tonight.

"It can't be. But let's go, you can tell me while I eat a… cinnamon roll, and then we will work it out, eh?" Gilbert nodded and they went back to the living room, where they talked quietly for a while before calling it a night. Gilbert made the sofa bed efficiently, having done it more times than he could count on the past few months. He was going to the room, but turned to look at his friend, who was getting into bed.

"I was shit scared tonight, Freddie," he confessed in a low voice, his hand on his nape.

"I noticed. But you did well, calling me. And she will be ok, Gilbert. She will. Just be there for her, ok?" Fred said to him. Gilbert nodded and left, noticing how Fred turned off the light a few seconds later. Anne was fast asleep, and he curled against her, holding her tenderly, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline from the night wore down.

Gilbert woke up before Anne the next morning. She was hugging him tightly and he could see her face was peaceful, as if there could be not a worry in the world. He didn't move, instead snuggling even closer to her, watching the hour in the alarm clock he had on the nightstand. 7:40. Still early. Fred was waking at 8:00, so he could eat something and have time to go change and be at the hospital by 9:00, so he had some 20 minutes before he had to get up. Smelling her hair, he relaxed some, trying not to dwell more on the past night's events. Today was a new day.

A few minutes before his alarm rang, he disentangled himself from Anne's embrace, careful not to wake her up. He wanted her to rest as much as she could. He grabbed his phone and turned off the alarm before it even went off and walked quietly to the kitchen, coffee in his mind. A few minutes later Fred appeared, sleepy.

"Hey, Blythe," he greeted.

"Here, have this," Gilbert said, offering a cup of coffee. Fred nodded. "Have you spoken with Ella?"

"Sent her a message last night. Believe it or not, she's half used to this kind of thing. Sporadically, yes, but once in a while I do get a call in the middle of the night. Did you sleep well?"

"Some. Kept waking up to check on her," Gilbert commented, putting out a couple of dishes and making a general signal towards the bounty of bread. Fred took a couple and put them on a plate. "You don't want to warm them?"

"They're good like this. And she will be fine. I mean, keep an eye, obviously, but don't lose your sleep over it otherwise you won't be of any use. You're working today?"

"In theory. I have half a mind to go and talk to dr. Yang and see if I can have today off, and change my schedule now instead of waiting until I come back from Montreal."

"Have you told him at all about Anne?"

"He does know she's staying with me since… I don't know, April or something. When I spoke to him about changing the schedule because things were getting serious with her he almost looked relieved. So… yes."

"Then talk to him. Explain the situation. If you need a formal diagnosis or something as support tell him to talk with me."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Gilbert yawned. Fred shrugged.

"The offer still stands."

"Thanks. So you'll check on her later? I don't want to impose, but…"

"You'd feel better. I know. Yes, I will. Also to confirm to her the appointment. I already wrote to Patel, see if he can have her… He's doing zoom things so I think there's a good chance," Gilbert nodded.

"I don't want to leave her alone today."

"I can understand that. Bring her to the hospital. That way even Dr. Yang won't object. And if he tries we just introduce her and he falls in love as everyone else. But bring her, Blythe. Don't leave her locked down here today. Do something with her. Take care of her. And make her feel comfortable, my guess is she will be embarrassed about the whole thing."

"She shouldn't."

"You know that, I know that, she doesn't. So help her feel comfortable. Draw a bath, get her something nice to eat, something. Well, I'm off. Let me know if you need anything, ok?"

"Yes. Thanks again, mate. Hey, please take as much as you can of this?" he signaled the bread

Notes:

So.

Here's what we suggest you do now: go, have a cup of tea (or hot chocolate, or something cozy and warm) and some nice music and call someone you love. Again, take care of yourself. Please. I said it last week, I'll say it again: going to therapy might change your life for the best. If you struggle with anything like Anne does... It's so very worth it. It's hard, but it does get better. You deserve to feel better.

This is a heavy chapter. We won't try to embellish it.

What we can and will do, is to not leave you with the heavy feeling until Saturday, because that's in our hands. While we won't be posting a new chapter for Let Me In until then, we do have something... nice and light and butterfly-in-the-stomach worthy. Fred-centered. (Our Freddie, of course, can you not love him?). Because he's a hero and he deserves his very own one-shot. You'll get some university-Gilbert snapshots as well. You can go ahead to my profile and it should be there, it's called When No Becomes Yes.
And with that, we go for now.