January 14, 1893

"Are you sure you're ready to be on your own, dearie?" asked Mrs. Harrison.

"I'm sure," said Anne, thinking she'd never been surer of anything in her life. She sat by the stove, watching the sweet lady put the finishing touches on supper.

"You know, it's really no trouble for us to have you here. I just hate to think of you, living all alone in that huge place..."

"I'll be fine," she forced a smile. "I can't thank you and Mr. Harrison enough for all your help with Green Gables. And for letting me stay as long as I have already."

"Oh, that's nothing, really. We hardly get any visitors anymore, now that our James started his own family in New Brunswick. I suppose It's selfish of us to want to keep you longer," the woman chuckled at herself. "Still, you might come over after church one of these Sundays, for dinner?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." Anne's smile was now genuine, but she would never actually follow through with the invitation.

Not that she wasn't grateful for the kind, older couple taking her in. In fact, she suspected it had been a strain on them: she'd been brought in after Mr. Harrison found her in the forest, 'frozen through' as Mrs. Harrison put it. It took eight days for the fever to break, and for her to understand where she was; another two days for her to gain enough strength to sit up. Now that she'd been on her feet for two days, she was itching to get out of here. Sleeping all day and all night was very nice, but the constant surveillance and fussing from Mrs. Harrison and old Dr. Porter was rendering her claustrophobic.

A sniff caught her attention, and she pushed off her chair to stand by the woman who'd cared for her. Anne hated to cause her any distress, but her need to leave surpassed everything.

Anne waved at Mr. Harrison as he drove off that evening, nearly collapsing from relief when he was out of sight. Finally, she was alone. Green Gables was even tidier than she'd left it: Diana had come while she'd been unwell to clean. Anne would have to send her thanks, and also to Fred for taking care of the animals. And to the Harrisons, and Dr. Porter.

On the kitchen table, there was a parcel with two notes. The first was in Diana's handwriting:

Anne, Darling,

Do not think that you're off the hook. You gave me the fright of my life, and not even the fact that you recovered miraculously well can make me forgive you so easily. At least, not until you do some explaining. I will be expecting you over on Saturday for supper. Fred will give you a lift when he's done helping with the barn, and you will tell me everything. I hope I have made myself clear.

Mr. Sheehan stopped by on the 2nd while I was tidying up the place. I told him you were unwell, and wished him a safe trip in your name. He left a parcel and a note, which I've placed on the kitchen counter. He didn't mention its contents to me, and I couldn't bring myself to ask, but do have care opening it, won't you? If you feel you are not ready, it can wait. Take your time.

Your pantry is stocked, and there is a dinner pie on the sill (you might heat it up in the oven, it'll probably be cold by the time you arrive). If you do not eat, and die of starvation, I will rise you from the grave so as to throttle you with my own bare hands. Let that be your warning. See what you've done to me? I've gone gruesome and violent. If mother could read me now...

Take care of yourself, Anne, or at least let us.

Yours,

Diana

Anne tossed the note aside: if this is what Diana thought gruesome and violent meant, she hadn't a clue what went on in Anne's mind (and they would keep it that way for now). The second note was addressed to Miss Shirley, and read:

Ann,

It is with regret that I must leave Prince Edward Island without being able to say goodbye in person. Unfortunately, I must return to work immediately.

Enclosed are two items Gilbert would have wanted placed in your care. The will only mentions his books, to be donated to medical students on scholarships, and his clothing, which will be distributed to the less fortunate patients at the hospital. Before I deal with the rest of his belongings, I wanted to inquire whether you would like to keep something of his? Should you be able to travel to Saskatchewan, I would gladly meet you at the train station, and you could peruse his room yourself. I wish I could deliver his things in person, but no one can be spared from the hospital at the moment.

Please, do let me know if I can ever be of any assistance or comfort. In the meanwhile, I wish you a complete recovery.

Yours respectfully,

Doug Sheehan

Curious, Anne opened the parcel: though the shape of it was rather obvious, she was still surprised to find the last manuscript she'd sent Gilbert - the chapter she'd been too hesitant to share, that had arrived too late. She wondered if he'd read it, and prayed for a moment that he had.

The second item fell from the packaging material, and hit the floor with a soft clink. She bent and picked up her locket: the one Gilbert had stolen one summer day, years ago...

Anne fed both notes to the fire, and went to do the same with the manuscript - but decided to lock it up in her drawer upstairs, instead. She found a chain for the locket, and fastened it around her neck, and went downstairs to lock the doors for the night.

February 20, 1893

"Your lungs sound clear, so that's good," declared Dr. Porter. "Still..."

"Yes?" asked Anne, buttoning up her dress.

The old man seemed to hesitate. "No doubt the fever took its toll. I'm glad we were able to prevent it from developing into something graver, but...with recent events...there are other, er, factors, which might be slowing down your recovery."

Anne blinked. "Factors?"

He took her hand, and she resisted the impulse to yank it away. "It's normal to feel some grief," he said tenderly before schooling his features into something harder. "But too much can be as detrimental as a disease. Your weight isn't what it's supposed to be, and judging by your color, I'd guess you're not getting enough rest, either. So you will eat, and I will prescribe you something to help you sleep."

Finally, her hand was realized, and several promises to take better care of herself, Anne was able to usher the doctor out.

April 7, 1893

"We ask God to keep our brother, John, in his care..."

Anne inhaled deeply, and stared carefully ahead. The sight of the freshly dug hole was upsetting, but not quite as horrible as the grave next to it. She would not cry, though: Diana was watching her from the corner of her eye, ready to pounce at her slightest blink. If one single tear passed her eye, Diana would drag her to Lone Willow and keep her hostage there.

The final prayers were spoken, and people slowly shuffled into a sort of queue, waiting to pay the weeping widow their respects. The turn out this time was much bigger: the same people who couldn't be bothered to attend Gilbert's last day above ground, were now whispering amongst themselves, passing the time until it was their turn to express their sympathies to Mrs. Blythe.

Hypocrites, Anne thought, but let go of the bitterness with a sigh. Ruby's funeral had been the same: beside her family, almost no one had gone. It was just harder to accept the mortality of the young and beautiful, than that of someone who'd lived a full, long life.

"...merciful way to go, they said," Mrs. Sloane's voice floated over to where she was standing. "He just lied down one night, and wouldn't get up the next day."

Something clicked in Anne. She already knew that Mr. Blythe had passed in his sleep. It was the way Mrs. Sloane had phrased it that made the gears in her mind shift: wouldn't get up. Not couldn't or didn't...

A notion came to her mind, and slowly developed into an idea.

June 18, 1893

Anne watched the sunlight fade from between the leaved ceiling of her woodland cathedral. She was lying on her back, in the exact same spot by the creek. Squirrels dashed about, and the occasional bird flew by. She stayed past dark, listening to the fauna change guards, wishing she could find a reason to keep enduring the sadness that consumed her.

November 1, 1893

The cold was coming in. The barn was full of hay. Soon, there would be nothing left for her to do in the fields. No more physical exertion except keeping the log pile stocked, but there was only so much wood she could chop for herself.

Maybe she would volunteer to chop some for the Harrisons.

December 31, 1893

Anne sat in her finest green dress, her hair plaited carefully. On her desk were six pills, lined up in a row. A glass of water would help expedite them on their way down.

Here it goes. One pill. She shuddered.

Two. The shudder wouldn't leave her body. It turned into a violent shivering.

Three. She was almost out of water, already: better take the remaining three all at once.

"WHAT are you doing?!"

The voice made her drop the pills from her palm. A wail of anguish escaped her throat.

"How could you?" Gilbert fumed.

"I can't go on like this!" she half-screamed, half-cried, desperate for him to understand. "It hurts so much."

"How do you think Diana will feel when she finds you?" he yelled back. "It could be days before anyone finds you. Do you know what death does to a body, Anne? When you stop living, your insides start rotting. Have you seen what maggots can do to a corpse? Because I have!"

This was Doctor-Gil, Anne realized, and not only by his lecturing. He was wearing his white doctor's coat (the one he'd modelled for her before leaving for Prince Albert), and his prized stethoscope, the one his Uncle Dave had gifted him as a graduation present, hung from his neck. Even though he glared angrily at her, she found him quite dashing.

"This is cowardly and selfish, Anne Shirley, and you know it." He picked the scattered pills up from the floor and examined them. "Barbiturates. Very nice. Where did you get these?"

Anne's cheeks colored with shame. "I got a prescription from Dr. Porter. To help me sleep."

"And?" he asked coldly. He knew, and she knew he knew.

"And," she continued in a small voice, "I, uh, borrowed some from your mother's pantry. She said she didn't want them, Gil!"

"You stole!" He pounded the desk with his fist. "You steal from my mother, you lie to your friends...I have no idea who you are anymore."

"I haven't lied to my friends," denied Anne.

"No? Maybe this will sound familiar: 'I'm fine, Diana! I'm eating plenty and resting well. No, Diana, I would never dream of walking out at night by myself. I'm not feeling lonely or suicidal.' Ring a bell?"

"I'm not suicidal!"

"No?" He shoved the last three pills in front of her face. "Then what are these for, then?"

"I'm so tired of the people I love leaving me," she whispered, her voice failing her. "My parents, Matthew, Marilla...you. Do you know how it is, to lose everyone who matters to you?"

"And so your answer was to be the one to leave this time, so you wouldn't be left behind? You don't care about the hurt it will bring Diana, as long as your own pain is alleviated. Or what it might do to my mother, were she ever to learn how you did it..." Gilbert's scowl turned sad. "You know, you're the only person who still visits her, other than Aunt Katherine? Sure, the ladies' aid society brings her dinner once a week, but they don't actually stay and ask how she's doing." Gilbert sighed. "It would devastate her, and many others."

Tears burned her eyes, her nose ran uncontrollably. "I miss you so much, Gil," she choked. "I don't know how to live with this."

He took her in his arms. "Then ask for help," he whispered in her ear. "Diana, Fred. My mother, Aunt Katherine. The Harrisons. When did you last pay a visit to Mrs. Lynde? Rachel is still alive - getting up there in years, though. My point is," he pulled back and gripped her by the upper arms, "that you have many people who care very much about you. And no one ever said you can't make new friends. All you have to do is reach out."

She sniffed. "No one can replace you."

"They won't. But don't let me be the last person to see you alive. Please, Anne."

"Alright. I won't." She wiped at her face with her sleeve, and stumbled a bit. "Oh...fuzzy..."

"That would be the barbiturates. You took three times the normal does, it'll hit you like a ton of bricks. You should be fine, though, just sleep it off."

"Stay with me?" she asked, tripping onto the bed. "Please?"

"Until you fall asleep."

Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, but she forced them back open. "Gilbert?"

"Hm?"

"I'm so sorry about your father."

"I know. Thanks."

Sleep was claiming her. She fought for one last moment of clarity. "Gilbert?"

"I'm still here."

"Promise you'll come visit me on the new year?"

"I promise."

Apologies for being so vague in answering some of your reviews. Your questions are excellent, and I can't respond in full because for the first time, I actually know the end! I usually just type and see where the story takes me, but this time, I have an actual ending in mind, so I have to make sure not to give away too much. Many thanks for reading adn reviewing!

oz diva: Thank you! As you can see, Gilbert's appearance has changed in this chapter. You've pointed up some relevant details, on which I cannot elaborate without spoilers. More to be revealed in 1894!

NotMrsRachelLynde: Thank you so much for giving this a shot! elizasky's Within a Forest Dark is one of my favorites. I'm sorry this chapter had to be so dark - I promise there will be happier times to come! I try to make my stories as real-life as possible: not fairy tales, but not 100% misery either, with a romantic twist on things. Hope you keep reading!

OriginalMcFishie: Thank you for reading on! I like Doug, too - he's one of my favorite (and only) created-from-scratch characters. I will try to flesh out Anne/Gil's friendship a bit more, especially the aftermath of the proposals.

AnneFans: For now, it seems to be on the New Year's Eve. For the future, who knows? Thanks for reading!