Greetings, people!

I'll be honest, it took me a while to get my writing mojo back this time around- and not just because this is the hottest summer my hometown has had since the 1940s. We are the 'sunburnt country', and the 'land of droughts and flooding plains' after all: this year we're living up to Dorothea Mackellar's poetry. (and many thanks to Oz Diva for correcting who actually wrote it! Not Banjo! And I call myself an Aussie...)

I expected a reaction to the change of career for Gilbert, and it was pretty much as I thought it would be. I'm not going to blame it on my muse (please…) however I will state that my driving motivation was to do something different to my other stories. Others, including me, have written about the stresses of a medical career and three years studying, and of course, Canon will always have Gil as a doctor- and no one can take that away! Anne is allowed latitude with her career, and I just wanted to write something that wasn't constricted by Gilbert's- especially when I'm going to go from this to the sequel to WTC straight away, pending a scheduled nervous breakdown at the finish of this. It's been a different story all along- and it's entirely up to you how you feel about it too. I do hope that even though it's different, it's still Anne and Gilbert. For the readers who commented that Gilbert just wants sex, well: he's a 24-year-old male in love with his wife- of course, he does! I often get asked why church kids get married so young (and we often do)- use your imagination, people! It's a big motivator, especially in an era where they can't just have it all. That's not all that's motivating him though- in my mind, it's the financial pressure and the fear of not being there enough for Anne that's really getting to this Gilbert.

All that being said, I appreciate those who are giving this a chance, and all those who expressed their surprise kindly- I'll admit that a couple of comments had me wanting to toss the whole thing. You'd think I'd developed thicker skin by now… still, after some very encouraging words, I'm still going. Much love to you all, and wherever in the world you are, cold or hot, may your day be kind to you.

Love, Cate.

On the twenty-fourth of December, Amelia Blythe ran to the door for the tenth time that evening, anxiously listening for the sound of the sleigh-bells on the wind. A storm had been swirling in the north, and she found herself eying the sky as she did the chores, trying not to picture the little Island ferry being tossed on the choppy straight. John had pointed out quite calmly that Gilbert and Anne were coming from the opposite direction- and he had been sanguine that he and the children (that title would persist) would be home before it hit. Her eyes again turned to the clock, calculating how long the trip from Carmody was in the sleigh.

It was almost ten o clock at night when there was a muffled stomping on the veranda and the sound of her husband's voice outside. Amelia came flying down the stairs just as Gilbert himself stepped over the threshold, only narrowly escaping being bowled over by his mother.

"Ma, come on; you only saw us three months ago!" he protested, over the tearful babbling that was muffled by his heavy jacket.

Mrs Blythe pulled away from him with a scowl, not seeing Anne for a moment in an effort to find her handkerchief. "Oh, just you wait until one of your precious children leaves the nest. Then we will see how cavalier you are about how long they have been gone."

"I bet Angus will be first," Gilbert muttered to his wife, who began to laugh, drawing Amelia's attention at once to her daughter-in-law- and felt her jaw dropping open in shock at her appearance.

"Anne, dear, what on earth has happened to you?" she scolded, reaching for Anne's bedraggled jacket and hat, and ushering the shivering girl into the warm parlour. "And who is Angus? Angus Pye?"

Gilbert grinned. "Nothing, Ma. Just a private joke. And Anne had a little- er, accident at the station."

All attention at once went to the young redhead, and she sighed, a wry smile on her face as she peeled off her wet gloves. "I forgot to watch my footing when I was coming down the stairs of the station- it was so lovely to be home, and I was thrilling to see the snow-"

"And so she decided to inspect it face first," John said, with a very Gilbert-like twinkle in his eye. He had been concerned for his daughter-in-law as well, however seeing Gilbert toss the heavy bags at him in a mad attempt to catch his airborne wife had been too funny to not laugh at.

"Oh, goodness, Anne, you're wet right through," she scolded, turning to hustle Anne back through the door. "Gilbert, bring your bags upstairs, please- I'm putting the two of you in your room. Your aunt and uncle will be in the guest room for the holidays."

Anne exchanged an intrigued glance with her husband, and several minutes later the two of them stood in his old bedroom, now complete with a full sized bed that had not been there three months earlier, and taking up most of the available space.

Gilbert gave his mother an amused look. "You really don't want to chance us going anywhere else, do you?"

Amelia scowled at him. "Nonsense. We are quite content to share you with Marilla. However, you are all grown up now, and the two of you need some space to call your own here, as well."

While Anne pulled a fresh dress from her suitcase, Gilbert inspected the new bed. "Dad's work?"

"Of course; he's had the pieces out in the barn for some time- however, he had to wait until after the harvest to begin."

"It's so lovely of you both," Anne said softly, as Gilbert slipped an arm around her. "Thank you."

Amelia clucked as she took up the soiled jacket and hat, her eyes suspiciously wet. "Well, it's more than a pleasure to have you both here. Now, do get changed, Anne- I'll go and get the supper ready."

When the door closed behind her, Gilbert turned to see Anne unbuttoning her blouse, a slight grimace on her face. He stood before her, batting her hand away gently to help her. "I'll wrap your wrist once we get downstairs- I notice you didn't tell Mother about that." Anne shrugged, a small smile on her face as Gilbert helped her out of the wet fabric, her petticoats having escaped the worst of the water. He slipped a simple navy gown over her head as she moved her hair out of the way of the buttons. "I do prefer doing this in reverse, you know."

"Oh, hush. And I am not naming any child Angus."

"And yet you didn't like Horatio!"

"Neither do you! Did you forget that this was a hypothetical discussion?"

He snorted at her, then, as his fingers deftly buttoned her up. "Look, if it wasn't a hypothetical discussion, I'd be tossing you on that bed right now, and making my parents wait on their supper for a little while yet."

She stilled under his hands, a flush blooming on her cheeks. "You are dreadfully cheeky, tonight, Gil. I hadn't realised how excited you were to be coming home."

He shrugged, a smile lurking in his eyes. "It's not about the break- although I expect us to have a great time. I'm just- happy."

Anne turned to the small mirror above Gilbert's desk, watching him surreptitiously as she put her red curls back into order again. He had been in rare form that morning as they left Kingsport, tormenting Rusty and capering around the house like a boy, and making her laugh with his antics as they walked to the train station. They hadn't discussed the Cooper again, or the medical school conundrum, and she wondered if perhaps that was a good thing, for now. As he took her hand in his with a bright grin to lead her down the stairs, she couldn't help but smile in return. If just sharing this burden openly brought him so much joy- what might a whole lifetime do, of walking each and every road together?

The clock had chimed midnight before John was able to convince his wife to let the couple get some sleep, knowing that the following day would be busy enough. Gilbert closed the door of his bedroom behind them with a little grin, seeing the adorable scowl on Anne's face as she pulled out her nightgown. He knew what would follow, and adored seeing her like this- the cold of their bedroom at home often had her quickly changing before the fire, skirts, blouses and petticoats flying in every which way as she sought to keep the cold at bay. He'd teased her after rescuing her skirts from the hearth a few times, claiming that running after her clothing was good for football practice.

"Am I going to have to fetch your clothes from all corners of my childhood bedroom?"

Anne was removing her stockings and glanced up at him, her mouth twisted into a smile of such witchery that he felt his heart miss a beat. "I think that you like that idea."

Gilbert laughed, turning to his own suitcase to give her some space to change. He'd dreamed of her in here, after all- and he couldn't help but wonder at the reality of their life together now. The line that they walked was still a curious one, he supposed- slowly learning each other, growing in their intimacy over time. They had the time, he had realised in Kingsport; time to discover who they were together, to work out what the two of them wanted for their lives. He couldn't help but chuckle, thinking of Professor Hallett's harshness a year ago. He should thank him, he supposed. It was a quality of time they never could have had in an engagement, where all proprieties had to be observed. Without looking around, he unbuttoned the shirt she was so fond of removing, smiling at the familiar sigh she gave as she unhooked her corset. It was such a pretty thing, he thought dreamily- pale blue silk, with ivory embroidery along the hem- and yet the softness of the chemise underneath, and the softness of her skin underneath- that, he adored. He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he turned around, to see her braiding her thick curls back, her flannel nightgown covering her from head to toe. Gilbert took her momentarily free hand with a frown, smoothing his fingers over the white bandage there, and causing her to drop the strand of red hair she was working on.

"I was working on that," Anne scolded, without ire. "You know what happens to my hair if I don't pull it back in the evening."

He suppressed a laugh at the memory of a cloud of wild curls one morning, and held up his own hands in protest. "I was just checking your wrist!"

Anne shrugged dismissively. "It's a mild sprain, Gil. I've had worse." She found herself being tugged into his arms then, and sighed gently. His sensitivity to her past had frustrated her a good deal since they had returned to Kingsport; to the point where she had finally exploded in late October that year, telling him that she regretted telling him anything. It had taken a missed concert and a fairly frank discussion to get to the bottom of that one- and her rather peeved husband had eventually agreed that yes, he needed to not overreact- but that she needed to accept that he would never be able to hear her story unmoved.

And of course, the making up had been rather wonderful.

She finished the braid and blew out the lamp, slipping down under the covers beside him with a sigh. "I've never been in your bedroom until today," she said thoughtfully, looking around the dark room. "I feel as if we should somehow take note of this moment."

He chuckled, then. "We've been roommates for a year, now- I don't see that the location makes much difference."

This typically pragmatic comment from Gilbert made her laugh. "Then how do you explain the besotted look on your face at the sight of my bedroom, last year?"

"That was different! It was yours!"

"And this is yours."

To his shock, Anne slid back out of bed then, her bare feet muffled by the rug underfoot. "Love, you'll freeze out there. Save exploring until the morning."

"No, I'm making memories," she said stubbornly, turning then to look out of his window with a slight smile. The snow falling lightly on the windowsill, and all was perfectly still outside. "It must be wonderful here in the autumn- you look out over the orchard."

He shook his head at her, grinning as he moved to join her. "It is." He angled her then toward the south-east. "You can see the edge of the Haunted Wood there- And if you use your imagination very hard, looking from here, Green Gables is right over that hill."

She chuckled, as his hands wrapped around her waist tightly. "And did you often use your imagination then?"

"Oh, all the time."

She turned to face the desk in the corner of the room, a twinkling look in her eyes as she beheld the assortment of mementos on his desk- books covering his bookshelf, perfectly kept free of dust by his mother. There were odd photographs of the family, a class photo from Queens, and even a picture of Gilbert with his class at White Sands. "And are their any souvenirs of our school days here? No notes from the other girls-"

Gilbert snorted. "I got rid of those years ago. I only kept them to prove that I was likable to someone- even if it wasn't to you, yet." He paused then, seeing an unusual look of insecurity on Anne's face. "Sweetheart, it's only been you for me, since you hit me with a slate. You know that."

She shook her head, summoning a smile. "I do. I- I suppose I just wonder what else could have come between us before I came to my senses." She saw his hazel eyes fixed on hers in the dim room and rolled her own in derision. "I was worried, back then- not that I was willing to admit it, of course- that you might find someone in White Sands. There were often rumours that you had."

"You could have asked me about them, you know." He grinned at her, crossing the room to kiss her nose lightly. "When would I have had the time? I taught, I prepared lessons, and I came home every spare weekend that I could. Did you not notice that I found my way to you almost every Friday night?"

Anne frowned. "They were usually our AVIS evenings, weren't they?"

"I was the president for a reason. I didn't want to wait until Saturday to see you."

Anne began to laugh, and he scooped her up to place her on the bed. "And just how often did you use our Society to advance your own cause?"

"Well, we were called the 'Courting club' for a reason." To this cheek, he was met an indignant cry and a pillow to the face, and he caught it with a laugh, as she glared at him.

"You and I swore that we were serious about the AVIS! Even if no one else-"

He stopped her mouth with a firm kiss, settling opposite her. "I was, you goose. I still am. But getting to create something with you- seeing you every moment I could, well, that was the best thing about it."

Anne sighed, her look softening. "I agree." They sat looking at each other in silence, and Anne smiled. "Did you keep any mementoes of our school days, then?"

He climbed off the bed to light the lamp again, opening his cupboard door in the now much smaller space. He pulled a box off the top shelf and handed it to his wife, who gave him a bright glance. "You'll recognise some of the things in there, I'm certain."

Anne opened it to see the things she had expected to see- the transcript of his scores from Queens, the certificate stating that he had won the Medal, and the newspaper that the results of the Entrance, their names together.

"I really was proud to be up there with you," she said quietly, tracing her finger down the list of names. "When it came down to it, it was right for us to be equals."

He smiled, as she moved the box into the light. He pulled out a crumpled mass of tissue paper. "This- used to be a rose," he said, somewhat regretfully. "It got a bit knocked around in here. From the concert where I tried to recite a poem for you."

Anne choked. "Bingen on the Rhine? Really?"

He gave an easy shrug, his smile sheepish. "Well, it's not like I could tell you in person that I liked you. Why not poetry for the English student?"

She chuckled as he placed it in her hand, her eyes sparkling. "Di always said that you took this. I really should apologise to her- at the time, I told her you didn't have the imagination to be so romantic."

"I married the queen of romance, love. I had to have some, at least."

There was a thick bundle of letters next, from the age of the paper Anne supposed them to be from his childhood. There were hastily scrawled letters from Charlie and Moody, letters from his mother, Uncle Dave, and finally, underneath them was a faded dance card, bearing the name of Anne Shirley. "I wanted to keep this, you thief," she cried, laughing. "My very first dance card!"

"Well, your future husband kept it safe for you, so I don't know why you're complaining-"

Anne held it out of his reach with twinkling eyes when he went to grab it from her, his cheeks unusually flushed. "It is mine, isn't it, beloved? I may at least look at it." She ignored his pained look and opened it, to find that a stubborn hand had scrawled over the dances with one word- a smudged 'mine.' She looked up at him, her own cheeks heating. "Gil-"

He groaned, flopping back against the bed. "Anne, you were never supposed to see that."

"Even if I actually married you?"

He gave a sheepish laugh, then. "Hopefully by then, you would think it charming that the younger me was possessive and slightly obsessed with someone who hated me."

Anne bent closer to kiss him, her eyes twinkling as her nose brushed his. "I do. Of course, I would have murdered you in cold blood if I had found it at the time."

"Obviously." He sighed, looking around his old room, and rose to bundle things back into the box. "We can do more of this tomorrow. You realise that we've been awake for almost twenty hours, now."

Anne smiled, smoothing the ruffled curls on his head. "Alright. We should sleep."

His face suddenly brightened, as he leant into her slim hand. "I'll show you one more thing in here, if you like- come on."

Anne climbed off the bed as he did, bemused when Gilbert tossed the box on his desk, and shoved his heavy wardrobe aside. She gave herself a brief moment to dreamily watch the muscles on his arms move as he did so, until he grinned at her knowingly. "Do you mind, Mrs Blythe?"

She chuckled with a little blush, reaching out a hand to brush his sleeve. "Not at all." He grabbed her hand then, and tugged her down onto the floor. "What exactly am I looking for?"

He rolled his eyes, and pointed down to the skirting boards, where her name was scratched with his on the worn floorboards, just where the wardrobe hid it. Anne chuckled, as she traced the crudely carved heart surrounding their names. "You did this?"

"No, Mother immortalized you in here," he teased. "Of course I did. One of my- many- lovesick moments while we taught. Had she seen it, she would have made me sand it off."

Gilbert pushed back the wardrobe as she rose, and scooped her up in his arms to deposit her on the new bed. Around an enormous yawn Anne curled herself into his embrace, loving the feel of his solid presence behind her as his hand flicked the covers over them both. His firm arm pillowed her head, and the other slipped around her waist. In the silence, she murmured- "We have a long history, Gil."

She could feel his smile against the top of her head, as his arm tightened around her. "I'm more excited about the long future we have ahead of us."

There was a longer silence then, one in which Gilbert was almost asleep.

"Gil? Do you think-"

"Anne, honey?"

"Mmm?

"Go to sleep."

She smiled at his deep chuckle, and snuggled down in his arms, watching the snow falling through the window. Her eyes began to drift closed, and she sighed as his hand pressed her closer to him, warm and comforting over her belly. Only one word could make sense of the comfort that radiated through her being at that moment- that of home.

By Christmas morning, the storm had blown itself out, and the world was a dazzling white as far as the eye could see. Anne could hear movement in the house early that morning and swiftly dressed, giggling at the way Gilbert had only roused to squint at her without comprehension, before pulling her pillow over his face and going back to sleep. She tightened the sash on her green dress, closing the door behind her quietly, feeling oddly conscious to be sneaking out of Gilbert's childhood bedroom so early in the morning. As silly as it was, this feeling only grew when she walked into the kitchen, blushing brightly at the amused look between Gilbert's parents.

"Good morning, dear. How was your sleep?"

Anne took the cup of tea Amelia passed her, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Very comfortable, thank you. The bed was a lovely surprise."

John straightened up from the bench he was leaning on with a sly grin. "Well, I didn't have enough warning to do it in time for last Christmas."

Anne gulped nervously, despite the small twinkle in his eyes. "Have we ever apologised about that?" she said feebly, making his parents laugh outright.

"Several times, dear- not that we would change a thing."

There was a step on the stairs soon afterwards, and Anne looked up to see Gilbert entering the kitchen, adorably tousled, and snapping his suspenders into place. He had a smile for his parents, however, when they turned away to get the breakfast on, his attention went to Anne.

"That wasn't fair," he murmured, bending to kiss her upturned face. "This was the first Christmas I got to wake up in bed with my wife. You didn't want to wait for me?"

Momentarily forgetting his parents, Anne smiled. "You wake up with me daily, Gil. And besides, I was too excited to stay in bed."

The couple talked quietly at the table for a few minutes, and the kitchen was beginning to fill with the smell of a big farm breakfast. Amelia was quick to place a loaded plate before everyone, before attempting to bring some order to Gilbert's curly head.

"This does need a cut, dear. Why on earth were the pair of you so late to leave Kingsport? Almira Sloane said that Charlie and Moody arrived home two days ago."

Gilbert shared a grin with Anne. "I had a late class- and besides, we figured that having another day to prepare wasn't a bad thing."

At his mother's curious look, Anne chuckled. "Sometimes we forget that the other students are only boarding- they may just pack and leave. Whereas we have a house-"

"And a cat." Gilbert added.

Amelia set down her teacup with a little sigh. "Of course. How silly of me- I often forget that Avonlea really isn't home any longer, for either of you."

Before the melancholy of that statement could set in, Gilbert smiled at his bride. "I prefer to think of us as being lucky enough to have a home in two places." He picked up her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it, causing John Blythe to choke on a piece of bacon.

"Mercy on us, is this what we missed by you two courting away in the city?" His wife swatted him with a scowl, quite enamoured with the way the young folk gazed at each other, their happiness evident to all.

Anne pulled away with a little laugh, her cheeks flushing. "Well, technically, we didn't court- not really."

"Or that we were always courting," Gilbert pointed out smugly. "Would you look at that! Mrs Lynde was right."

Despite the multiple letters that had gone back and forth over the term, there was much news to catch up on. At one point the conversation lightly touched on Anne and Gilbert's plans following college. Anne's glance flew to her husband, who gave a subtle shake of his head, before replying composedly that they had not yet made any decisions- however they would let them all know as soon as they had. He ignored the startled glance between his parents, turning the talk instead to young Davy Keith, and the hours he has spent at the Blythe farm over the harvest. Davy had taken a great notion to farming, of late, and Anne could only hope that he could be convinced to stay in school for a little longer yet.

"He'll do well, I think," John said composedly, pausing to refill Amelia's cup of tea. "Quick on his feet, and fair with the animals- and Green Gables has good soil. I shouldn't be surprised to see him ready to take on the farm in just a few years."

"Will he have enough experience, by then?" Amelia asked, worried; and John shrugged kindly.

"I should think so. Folks around here will be happy to help him learn- the Harrison fellow has taught him a lot, already. It'll be a load of Marilla's mind, as Dora gets older. She wants them to have a proper future."

When breakfast was done, and the couple had returned to their room to finish dressing for church, Anne seated herself on her husband's lap on the bed, her clear, grey eyes studying him intently. At her question, Gilbert hesitated.

"I didn't want to say anything to them, just yet."

"Why, Gil?" she asked softly. "Do you think that they would be disappointed in you?"

"I- I think they'll assume that it's for the wrong reasons."

"But if you told them-"

"I told you that, and you still think-"

Anne placed her fingers over his mouth, pausing to smile at the feel of his stubbly jaw, and the lips that so generously loved her. "I want you to be happy. Not just for now, but for our whole life. I only want to be sure that this is truly what you want- and I feel as if there is a part of you that is still undecided."

He paused to nip her finger teasingly. "You don't learn, do you, Mrs Blythe?" She laughed, and he let out a sigh that ruffled her loose curls. "Look, the only thing that makes me question it is the fear of disappointing you- my parents. And Uncle Dave. I used to talk about following him into medicine when I was young- not that I knew if it could really happen."

"Well, he will be here this afternoon," Anne said gently, snuggling into his chest. "I am very curious to meet him, you know. I remember seeing him visit while we were still in school together."

Gilbert's brows lowered. "You've never met him before? How is that possible?"

Anne smiled at him. "I know your uncle and aunt from next door well; they certainly discovered us on their property enough, during our summers together. I met Aunt Mary Maria last summer-"

"Hmm. Have I apologised to you about that yet?"

"And of course, I know your parents quite well." The list was finished quite innocently, however the fingertips that brushed over the front of his shirt made quite a different impression.

"I think you know their son a little better."

"A little," she admitted airily, before breaking off with a yelp as Gilbert shifted her onto the mattress, his twisted smile huge as he loomed over her, delighting in the red-gold curls against his pillow. He lowered himself until his lips brushed her own, smiling when her arms wrapped around his waist. "I know when you are thinking about this, here, between us," she murmured, stroking his jaw. "I know when your mind is on some complex algorithm instead of your dinner- and when you're cross with me for using your pencil for story notes. And I know exactly the moment you start to wish that the two of us were alone."

His laugh was triumphant, as he bent to kiss the miraculous creature who was his wife. "I think I might need to show you how well I know you, Mrs Blythe."

His low voice made Anne smile dreamily, and she met his lips with equal fervour, her breath catching at the broad hand that slid up her side, the words of passionate adoration he spoke against her skin. She paused only to giggle when the brown, curly head was raised up long enough to check his watch on the side table, before launching himself at her and making them forget all about the need to get themselves ready for the day.

A short time later, as Amelia was coming out of her own bedroom, she walked toward the stairs in time to hear yet another soft laugh and murmured voices coming from Gilbert's closed door, and turned from the landing with a peculiar look on her face. She made it down the stairs in record time, to meet her now curious husband.

"Are they ready, yet? You told them that Marilla would be stopping by any minute now, didn't you?"

"Oh, I imagine they will be ready, soon enough," she said faintly. "Best leave them to it."

John caught her expression, and the high colour on her cheeks, before looking to the stairs in sudden clarity. He attempted to keep the smile off his face for the sake of his wife and cleared his throat. "They're a married couple, Millie, it's not so strange-"

Her brown eyes shot daggers at him, and she held up a finger that had been enough to make Gilbert quail when he was younger. "They are getting ready, Jonathon Blythe. That's all. We'd best be doing the same."

He choked back an uneasy laugh,and nodded soberly. "Just so, Millie."

She stomped back to her kitchen and began cleaning the pans with some unnecessary force, and he sagged back against the door frame, chuckling. He eventually straightened up at the sound of a buggy pulling up outside, and placed his old cap on his head to go and meet it. Marilla sometimes spoke of Anne as if she would always be a girl, something that tickled him immensely- he'd seen it in Millie, too. Both highly rational creatures- and yet underneath they were both two mothers who stubbornly held out against believing that their children had grown up.