Gilbert, unconscious, tossed and turned feverishly for days upon days. His friends took turns at his bedside with Christine taking the lion's share of the evening, overnight, and morning shifts. She was extremely attentive: part friend, part med student, and part something else. The doctors and nurses knew her by name, as did all of Gilbert's professors. Christine had everything under control. Well, almost everything.

If Christine had been uncertain about her feelings for Gilbert, there was no denying it by the end of that first week. After finishing the dinner Lewis had dropped off for her on that, Gilbert's sixth, night in the hospital, she turned her attention to studying for the human anatomy test she had the next day. At about 10:00 pm, she threw in the towel and dug into a copy of Bram Stocker's Dracula that a girlfriend had lent her. Enthralled by Lucy's death, Christine was on the edge of her seat when Gilbert spoke:

"Father …" he mumbled.

She almost jumped. Rushing, she put the book down and pulled her chair closer.

"Gilbert. Are you there? It's me, Christine."

"Father, please don't leave me," he said more firmly. He was shifting about, clearly in the middle of a bad dream or delusion.

"Gilbert?"

"Mother …" he whispered. "Mother please, please don't go. Mother please."

Christine reached for his hand and squeezed it tenderly. She was not sure what made her do it. She'd done so only once before; that first night he'd spent in the hospital. 'I was really scared that night, I am really scared now,' she thought to herself. 'It doesn't mean anything.'

"It's alright, Gilbert, I'm here. I'm here," she said comfortingly. He settled almost immediately. After a few moments, he squeezed her hand and her heart skipped a beat. She leaned in a little closer.

"Anne," he said lovingly, still with his eyes closed. "I love you. You know I do. I-I can't tell you how much."

Christine's heart sank.

"The world without you in it is a very lonely and forlorn place. Please, forgive me?"

Christine was stunned. Not so much at the discovery that Gilbert's love for Anne was so deep as to be subconscious, but at the gut-wrenching pain she'd felt in the very pit of her stomach when he'd said as much out loud. Without thinking, she pulled her hand away and sat there, trembling. It was plain as day to her now that she was deeply, desperately, and delusionally in love with Gilbert Blythe. Slowly and methodically, she packed up her things, put on her coat and hat, and left.

She was back in the morning before Paul came to relieve her. She fulfilled all of her care responsibilities that next day and it's fair to say that no one in the group noticed anything different or out of the ordinary about Christine. But, as far as she was concerned, everything had changed. She had changed.

Bash had been in the middle of repairing one of the wheels on the Blythe carriage when the postman had interrupted him with a telegram:

"Mr. Sebastian Lacroix,

Gilbert Blythe has taken ill and I'm afraid it's serious. Please come or send someone. Toronto General Hospital. No time to waste.

John Montgomery,
Classmate and friend"

Bash immediately sprung into action. His mother agreed to watch Delphine of course. After a quick ride to the Cuthbert farm, it was determined that Matthew and Jerry would help out in the orchard for as long as he was away and Marilla would help with the baby. In the flurry of planning and worry, Bash found himself at Miss Stacey's door.

'What am I doing here?' he thought to himself. 'How did I get here?' He turned to leave when Muriel answered.

"Sebastian. What a wonderful surprise! What brings you to my door this fine spring evening?"

"I … I … I don't know, exactly." It was clear that something was wrong. She could see it in his eyes.

"I see you're feeling something, my friend. You are welcome to voice that something here and now, or at any time in the future."

"Thank you, Muriel."

"Would you like to come in?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Oh fiddlesticks. What those Avonlea busy-bodies don't know won't hurt them," she countered. "Please come in. I've got some hot apple cider on the stovetop as we speak and a cinnamon stick with your name on it."

"Well," he said smiling, "if you insist." Bash took a deep breath and in doing so released some of the tension in his posture. It was always such a relief to talk to Muriel. She had such a comforting way about her. He took off his hat and crossed the threshold to her charming teacher's cottage. That evening, the two friends stayed up late discussing Gilbert's situation and all of Bash's worries and fears about what he would find in that hospital in Toronto and what it would mean for their family. Together, they prayed for a speedy recovery for their brother and friend and safe travels for Bash.

Approximately 36 hours later, Bash stepped off the train into Toronto's union station. He had to ask three people for directions to the hospital before someone stopped to help him. It wasn't too too far and so he set off on foot. Toronto was buzzing but Bash, of course, was a seasoned traveler and knew his way around unfamiliar chaos and urbanicity.

He burst through the doors of Toronto General and headed straight for the receptionist.

"I'm here to see Gilbert Blythe?"

"Who?"

"Gilbert Blyth. B. L. Y. T. H. E. I'm told he's a patient here."

"I'm sorry … Sir. You will have to take a seat."

"Please, madam, I beg you. My brother is here and I need to see him right away."

"I can personally assure you that your 'brother' is not here. We don't have any Negro patients here."

Bash's frustration mounted. "He's not my actually brother - he's my -"

"Excuse me, may I help?" asked John who had entered the hospital shortly after Bash.

"No, thank you, Sir. I can take care of this myself."

"Excuse my forwardness, but are you Sebastain Lecroix?" John asked.

"How in God's name did you know that?" Bash responded in awe. John extended his right hand.

"John Montgomery. I was the one who sent you the telegram."

Bash shook John's hand. "Nice to meet you, John." John turned his attention to the receptionist and dialed up the charm.

"Louise, my darling. This is Sebasitan Lecroix and I'm going to take him to see our Gilbert. Alright then? Alright. Good day, m'lady." He blew her a kiss and, with that, she waved him by.

John and Bash made their way up to the third floor at a steady clip. The turned left off of the stairwell, then right, then left again. Finally, John pointed to the door to Gilbert's room and then made his way back down to the lobby in an effort to allow Bash some privacy during what was likely to be a difficult moment. Bash was about ready to rush Gilbert's bedside when he caught a glimpse of Christine staring intensely out of the window. He caught himself, removed his his cap, and backed out slowly, careful not to be heard. At a bit of a loss for what to do next, he gestured to a passing nurse.

"Excuse me, I am Gilbert's family from Prince Edward Island. Can you tell me who that woman is, there?" He gestured to figure at the window.

"Oh, that's Christine. The patient's fiancee."

"His what?!"