Gilbert was dreaming. He knew he was. Or maybe he had fallen and taken a hit to the head while walking down the porch steps a few minutes ago. Whatever it may be, he knew for sure that he did not just hear Anne Shirley-Cuthbert say that she loved him. He knew for sure that she was not currently staring into his eyes, his very soul perhaps with those sapphire blue, yet tearful eyes of hers. Perhaps in a moment he would wake up in his bed at home, in his quiet isolated room where he had spent many nights silently crying himself to sleep from frustration, stress, and pure heartbreak. Maybe he would wake, and find that he never had even left the letter for Anne, that he had soon regretted. Maybe he never came face to face with her at the foot of the stairs, and briskly raced her back up the stairs to retrieve it. Maybe after his escape from her fury, she never ran after him outside, to scold, and accuse him, but then to question, and gape at him.

That was it, he decided. He was in his bed at home and--

It was only when Anne took a shaky breath, and continued speaking was he then pulled back into reality. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't hallucinating. Those simple little words that Anne had just said set his heart aflame, and a warm bubbly feeling all throughout his body. Anne loved him! All of those years, silently longing for her, yearning for her-- years of adoration and desire...

"I was foolish to even let such a notion come into my head!" Anne cried.

Gilbert felt his heart drop like a rock.

"How, could you ever even think of me when you have beautiful, perfect Winifred? Why did I think that it was even possible for you to care for me in that way? I'm homely, plain, reckless, utterly pathetic, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert! And though you claim that you never received my note, perhaps it's best that... that it was lost. Perhaps it was fate."

Gilbert opened his mouth to protest, but only managed a few sputters as he looked at her, crestfallen.

"I was selfish to tell you of my feelings, with full knowledge that I would not be able give you the life that you want, that you deserve." Anne said quietly, tears welling in her eyes, and streaming down her face once again. But she continued in a strong steady voice, despite the tears. She seemed to so firmly believe the words that were spilling from her lips. "I love you Gilbert, but how could you ever love me back? It was foolhardy to come out here, angry at you for ignoring me, when really... this is for the best. I'm sorry if what I've said and done has ruined our friendship, but I want to wish you and Winifred the best, and I want you to know that I am truly happy for you. For the both of you."

"Anne--" Gilbert tried, as each word that came from her lips hurt him even deeper and deeper than the last.

"I'm sure that with Paris being just around the corner, you are extremely busy, so dropping off my pen really was very kind of you."

"Anne."

"I expect Winifred is completely overjoyed to be marrying you. When shall you wed?"

"I-- Anne--"

She opened her mouth to interrupt him again, but Gilbert quickly cut her off. He desperately needed her to know that she was completely wrong, and that she was loved, so very loved. She needed to know that he longed for her, needed her, and couldn't bear to live without her by his side.

"Anne, I... I need you to read this. Please."

With shaking hands, he withdrew the letter from his pocket, the letter that he had worked so desperately to conceal, and took a step closer to her, searching her ocean eyes for any sort of reaction to the words that had just escaped him. Her face remained blank.

He offered it to her, biting his lip to prevent it from trembling. All of the blood seemed to be rushing to his head, and he felt dizzy for almost a second. Gilbert held his breath as Anne's pale hand reached for the note, and gasped quietly when their fingers brushed.

Anne took the note, but she didn't move her gaze from his face. "I'm frightened," She whispered. "You worked so hard to ensure that I wouldn't get my hands on this note... which means that its contents are a great deal of importance. It'll either crush my heart, my very soul perhaps, or it'll bring me such joy that I'll be unable to form coherent words."

"Please, Anne. Just read it, and you'll understand." He begged. Gilbert watched as she gently unfolded the paper, and grazed her fingers over it with an anticipated look in her eyes, before finally lowering her eyes to read the words he had left. For a moment second thoughts came into his mind, but he pushed them back, telling himself that this had to be done. He couldn't live with himself if he let Anne continue to think that he was engaged to Winifred.

He watched as her eyes grew wide as she read, before evidently misting over. Small sobs shook her shoulders, before she shifting her gaze up towards him with unbelief etched across her face. "Gilbert... How could you choose me... over Winifred? I can't offer you a life in Paris, or a grand home with sunbursts and marble halls or access to the most wonderful medical school in the world. I can't give you the life that you deserve--"

He put a hand up to stop her, and took another step closer, so that they were now barely a foot apart. "I don't want sunbursts or marble halls. I just want you. You're all I've ever wanted." He gingerly brought a hand up to caress her freckled cheek that had streaks of tears running down it. "I love you. I meant every word that I wrote." He whispered softly to her.

With a cry of delight, Anne threw her arms around his neck, clinging tightly to him. "I love you too, Gilbert Blythe."

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist, and then spinning her around gleefully. She shrieked with laughter, and closed her eyes blissfully so that her auburn eyelashes rested beautifully against her upper cheek. Gently he set her back on the ground, and tenderly wiped the remaining tears that were still flowing from her eyes and onto her cheeks. He could feel warm tears beginning to form in his own eyes, but for the first time in what felt like forever, they were not due to sorrow.

Anne laughed, and softly pushed his hands away. "Oh, what's the point? I can assure you that these tears won't stop for awhile."

"Me too," He chuckled, as he allowed the tears that had been welling up to fall down his cheeks. "Me too."

Gilbert made his way home that evening with a skip in his step; having been graciously invited for evening meal by Marilla. Well, perhaps graciously wasn't the correct word. Invited with force may be a better way to put it.

Throughout supper and after, he hardly got to be alone with Anne at all, Marilla having been trying to stuff him like a Christmas turkey, constantly replenishing his plate, or coaxing him to accept another biscuit. Although it was obvious that Marilla was simply glowing with pride and simply delighted about his and Anne's long awaited communication, she then insisted on sending him on his way before dark. He was thankful that Marilla had seated him beside Anne though, and that they had gotten to hold hands beneath the protection of the dinner table.

Later, Anne would explain to him that he had received Marilla's wrath for nearly breaking her daughter's heart, but because she always had had a soft spot for him, and loved him as if he were her own son, he was merely punished with her wonderful cooking. (He was slightly disappointed though, when he was not offered one of her famous plum-puffs.)

Anne had walked him to the door after supper, taking a moment to glance at their surrounds to make sure that Marilla was nowhere in sight. When her hesitation proved unnecessary, she took Gilbert's face tenderly in her hands, and Gilbert's heart leaped excitedly inside of his chest when her pink lips grew closer, but he was quickly disappointed when he heard the sharp sound of Marilla's heels coming down the hall. Anne only had the time to give him a quick but sweet peck on the cheek, before hurriedly shooing him out the door, and promising to stop by his house tomorrow.

The door shut with a click behind him as he found himself on the porch. He couldn't help the delighted grin that slowly spread across his face, dimpling his cheeks, and causing his eyes to crinkle. He couldn't remember when he had ever been so happy. He gingerly reached up to the spot on his cheek that his Anne had not a moment ago placed a tender kiss on. A quite rushed one, but tender nonetheless.