Blythe,

A man came looking for you in town the other day. Rachel Lynde stopped in to see us about it. Apparently he was asking your whereabouts… That he was an old friend from college. It didn't sit right with me when Mrs Lynde was explaining it which is why I'm writing to you now. His name was Thomas Hughes and I think one of the folks in Carmody told him where you were working now. I hope you and that girl are as well as we are here. Bring her back for a visit over the summer, if you can, I'm sure Diana would love to see her.

- B

I read the letter twice before I crumple it up and stuff it in the fire, my breaths coming hard and fast out of my chest. Thomas Hughes had shown up again but this time in Avonlea. It didn't sit right with me, not in the least, and I debated whether to tell Anne about it or not.

A part of me wanted to protect her from this, to stop it before it caught up to her but I knew that that wouldn't do. She needed to know that this was happening if only to protect herself from anything that came for her when I wasn't around.

An hour after receiving the letter from the postman I saddle my horse and head towards the school, ready to wait for her outside to catch her before she leaves for the day.

"Doctor Blythe! What are you doing here?" One of the Stewart boys asks me as the children come spilling out of the schoolhouse into their afternoon freedom. I smile and look up towards where Anne has followed them out, pleasant surprise colouring her features as she looks down on me.

"I came to see my good friend Miss Wright - I hope you don't mind," I reply and step up the stairs hastily to join her. She looks at me with an odd smile, confusion apparent as I move into the classroom and wait for the children to finish exiting the front door. When they're all gone she slides the lock closed and stalks towards me, arms crossed over her chest.

"It's mighty improper for you to just show up here, Doctor Blythe," she states evenly, her eyes tracing up from my feet as I stand near the board.

"You know, they let me teach here for a few weeks when I came to visit my uncle over the summers. It hasn't changed much."

"That doesn't matter - a gentleman caller visiting the classroom… The rumours that may start from this!" She insists, settling her hands on her hips.

"Then I'm quite happy you don't have a slate in your hands right now," I admit and absently rub at the side of my head as I look at her. She swats my chest and begins clearing the board and tidying up the small room. "I received a letter from Bash today."

"Oh? Is everything well back in Avonlea?" She asks distractedly, her hands quickly starting to write tomorrow morning's lesson across the blackboard.

"Thomas Hughes was there. Apparently he was looking for me," I answer and watch as her arms drop and she turns to face me, an unreadable look on her face. "Rachel Lynde heard about it in town and said he must have been an old classmate of mine but I've never heard of him."

"Did they say where you were?" Her voice is tight and I can practically feel her anxiousness rising in the small space.

"They think someone in Carmody told them I'm here in the Glen."

"But he already knows you are… He was here," she hisses, as though angry at the confusion of it all. I couldn't blame her, it didn't make sense to me either.

"I don't know what it means, Anne, but I wanted you to know just in case - in case it turns into something more," I finish lamely and watch as she turns back to the board. Her writing becomes more fitful, her letters closer together and her movements more sharp. I can see the tension in her shoulders and I long to ease this burden for her but I know that I can't. All I can do is be here for her, help her with whatever she asks of me.

"It's fine. It's not him," she says to the board eventually, brushing her chalked hands on her dress and groaning as she looks down at the white marks on her black attire. "This is why I never bought black dresses!" Her voice is shrill and she turns to me, tears in her eyes and her breathing heavy.

I go to her without invitation, reaching to gather her up in my arms and then stilling as her hands shoot out and slap at mine. She heaves a breath and moans, clutching at her elbows as I step forward once more. She fights my embrace angrily, lashing out against me and struggling to breathe until eventually she falters, collapsing into my chest as the fight runs out of her.

We stand together in the front of the classroom, my arms holding her as she eventually steadies herself. When she draws back it's with a sad smile on her lips, her throat struggling to swallow back tears.

"It's going to be alright," I promise quietly, brushing her hair away from her face. She nods quickly and steps back, turning back towards her desk and looking down at her notes.

"I'm going to finish up here and then head for home. Thank you for telling me." I watch as she slides her mask back into place, the vulnerability gone as she refocuses on her work. With admiration I nod and head towards the door, glancing back and catching her soft smile before slipping out into the schoolyard.

The next week takes a century to pass, our worries about Thomas Hughes going unsolved as we stay alert to any changes in the town. Our fifth dinner with the Turner's goes well but even they can see the stress between us, the way we cling to one another's company despite the safety of the warm home.

On Sunday evening I'm making dinner and tea for myself before settling in front of the fire with a book to read. It doesn't take me long to drift off to sleep, awoken only by the sound of the telephone ringing in the next room over. In standard practice I bolt to my feel and hurry to reach it, a calm demeanor coming over me as I prepare for the case on the other end of the line.

"Gilbert, can you come over?" Anne's voice sounds shaken, her words breathy as she speaks into the phone.

"Anne? What's wrong?" I press, thinking through all of the possibilities and feeling the panic in me rise. What if our suspicions were correct? What if -

"I need you to come over. Please." She whispers before hanging up abruptly. I rush to gather my things and take off out the door, coat barely on and medical bag in hand, just in case. I make it to her cottage in record time, huffing as I knock on her door and collapse through it as Susan opens it to me.

"You're here, good!" Susan exclaims, hustling me into the parlour and sitting down quickly beside Anne on the couch. They look at me with wide eyes, Anne's hands shaking as she holds a letter up to me.

I take it from her carefully, the envelope wet as I pull out the letter from inside.

Anne,

Finally this letter has found you. I hope you're well. If you're reading this know that I've received notice from Mr Hughes that he's located you and I'll be coming to bring you home. Do make this easier on both of us darling and prepare your things for transport home. See you soon.

Your loving husband,

Roy

I nearly vomit as I read the note, my skin crawling as I look down at Anne who's perched on the edge of the couch. Her body vibrates with the stress that racks through her, shoulders tucked into her ears and her face in her hands.

"When did you receive this?" I ask slowly, crouching down before her.

"This afternoon by post," Susan confirms, her arm wrapping around Anne's shoulders protectively. The girl curls into her, sobbing as the tears finally break free. I feel like crying myself and shift instinctively closer to her, wanting to wrap her up in my arms.

"You're not going anywhere," I promise though I know I shouldn't. I can't control life, though I've made it my vocation to try. "Tonight you'll stay at mine - both of you. And we'll figure it out tomorrow. Go now, get your things."

I return to my feet and urge them off of the couch and to their respective rooms. In the kitchen I pace back and forth, my mind spinning through ideas that will keep her safe. The best I can come up with that will protect her is continuing the charade and leaning into it, denying to any other newcomers her identity and solidifying her as another person altogether.

"Marriage," I murmur, my voice tight as I think it through.

If we could marry she would officially be recognized as Cordelia Wright, soon Cordelia Blythe. No longer Anne Shirley, absolutely no more Anne Gardner. The courts would be on our side if he tried to force her home without proof.

"We're ready," Anne states as together the women re-enter the kitchen. We leave and walk in silence back to my house, tracing through the blossoming paths and heading inside to find the fire low and the house cool. I show them their rooms and stoke the fire, waiting as they settle in. Eventually Anne rejoins me, sitting down beside me on the couch and watching the flames flicker.

"I think I have a crazy foolish plan," I mutter after a long while, realizing that Susan isn't returning to join us.

"Does it involve me leaving the Glen? Because if so I don't want to hear it," Anne replies quietly, looking at me with an even stare.

"No. But you might hate me for the suggestion…"

"I'm sure I won't. I could never hate you, Gil," she sighs and I gather my courage.

"Elope with me. Your name will officially go down in the books as Cordelia Wright and he'll have no claim to you. You can stay here for as long as you need without worrying about your reputation and propriety and when this all blows over, well, you can leave and be free to do what you wish. I won't lay claim to you but I will marry you to protect you, if you agree." It tumbles out of me so quickly that I almost don't believe she understands it, her mouth hanging open as she looks at me.

One second, then two, pass before she closes her mouth and sits up straight. "Yes," is all she says and I feel my heart both soar and break in the same moment. "Tomorrow?"

"Okay," I agree carefully, watching as a wave of emotions pass over her face.

"I'm going to go to bed. Thank you for… Everything, Gil." Our closeness over the past few months disappears in an instant as she bids me goodnight and then scurries down the hallway to leave me frozen in the parlour.

We marry with Susan and the minister's wife as witnesses, signing our paperwork in the dim morning light of Glen St Mary. When we kiss it's nothing like the kisses we've shared since the New Year began and I try to overcome the disappointment I feel in losing this memory to something tarnished and broken.

Announcing our marriage to the Turner family comes next as we invite them over for dinner the next day. They're surprised, but take it well enough I suppose. I pray they don't see through our reserved behaviour. That they don't call our bluff. Michael is the first to propose that we open a joint account at the bank and I say a silent prayer at the suggestion, the formality of the action exactly what we need to protect Anne from her old identity.

"Can we do it first thing?" I ask afterwards, as they're preparing to head back home. Michael turns to me with a raised brow, his hand settling on my elbow.

"What's the rush? Don't you have better things to be doing on your honeymoon?" He winks and withdraws, looking towards his wife affectionately. I reach for him abruptly and he turns back, eyes wide.

Leaving Anne with his wife he nods towards the parlour and steers us towards it silently. Once inside I turn to him with confusion that he easily shakes off. "I'm getting the sense there's more going on here than just a wedding," he starts, pausing to watch as my mouth opens and closes without words. "Tell me this isn't because you've gotten her pregnant. You of all people should know better."

I nearly choke on my tongue, sputtering as I look down at his angry expression. "It's not - "

"Don't lie to me, Gilbert. We aren't blind to the way you two are together. If she really is with child you need to take this more seriously and stop being such a cad about it," he huffs and crosses his arms, waiting for me to answer him.

My words freeze in my throat, my mouth dry. "Anne isn't - she's not - " I realize my mistake as soon as my shocked mind catches up, Michael's eyes widening as he looks at me.

"Anne? Who in the devil is Anne?" He hisses, confusion filling his features. I rub frustratedly at my brow, trying to think of a way out of this mess but coming up with nothing that will save me and still protect her.

"I am, Mr Turner," Anne says from the doorway, a stunned Susan and Sarah standing behind her. My eyes rise to meet hers and she smiles sadly, shrugging as she steps into the room. "My real name isn't Cordelia Wright. I borrowed that name from a good friend of mine. I'm actually Anne Shirley Cuthbert of Avonlea and I've been trying to pretend I'm someone else for a long time now."

"Anne? Marilla Cuthbert's orphan?" Sarah whispers, looking up at Anne with wide eyes. Both Anne and I look at her with surprise, shocked that she knows who she is.

"Yes - did you - did you know Marilla?" Anne asks calmly, though her voice shakes with the woman's name on her lips.

"Why, I met her a few times in Carmody. She mentioned you quite often but I starkly remember her telling me about your red - oh, you dye it!" Sarah gasps and holds her hand to her mouth, looking between the two of us. "My dear girl, what in good heavens is going on? Marilla would have raised you better than this surely."

I watch as Anne falters, the insinuation that Marilla would disapprove of her choices causing her anguish that clearly plays across her features and turns her inward with shame. In two steps I cross the room and pull her into my embrace, my hands soothing down her back as she shudders against me.

"It's a long story. Why don't I make us some tea?" Susan breaks in, guiding the Turners to the couch and pressing a hand to my shoulder softly. I steer Anne towards the chair nearest the fire and settle her into it, pulling up a stool to perch on beside her and keeping her hand in my lap.

The Turners sit uncomfortably on the edge of the cushion, confusion and a mix of distrust evident as they watch us. "Anne," I whisper, my fingers curling around her ear and lifting her chin from her chest. She stares at me with bloodshot eyes, unblinking for a moment as she resolves herself. "Do you want me to - "

"I do dye my hair, Mrs Turner, and I am Marilla's orphan. As you probably remember I used to manage to get myself into worlds of trouble and it's no different now. I married a man while in college. Someone I thought was good and kind but I was wrong. He was unkind to me - " I grip her hand tightly and look to where Mrs Turner pales, her eyes wide. "He was not a good man and so I left without telling him and I came here to try to start over. I decided to go by a different name because I didn't want to be found. But," she pauses and closes her eyes, exhaling shakily and digging her nails into my palm. "But I believe he's found me here, in the Glen. And I think he's coming to collect what's his."

The room is dead silent as Anne finishes, neither Michael nor Sarah moving from their places. I myself barely breathe, certain that if I did anything to change the composition of the room that it would ruin everything. And so I remain staunchly still, watching our guests as they process the information as quickly as they can.

"Why the marriage? Why continue the charade instead of telling him you won't go back if he does indeed show up here?" Michael asks carefully, leaning forward. I recognize the curiosity in his gaze, his desire for understanding rather than judgement.

"He would not accept any answer I provided him. He hasn't in the past," Anne replies and looks towards me, shifting in her seat.

"So you've done this in the past then? How many husbands do you have, Miss Wright?"

"Only the one," she snaps in return, insult playing into her response as Michael implies a pattern. He holds up his hands before him, surrendering.

"I only mean to understand why you've married the young doctor," he corrects and looks towards me pleadingly.

"The marriage was actually my idea - "

"Because I've loved him since I was a girl, Mr Turner," Anne says over me, squeezing my hand tightly in hers and trying to convey with a look all of the love she hadn't ever been able to admit before. "Gilbert has been by my side since I first moved to Avonlea… Even when I pushed him away. I had a very difficult childhood, you see, and I've always been prone to fighting off things I don't think I deserve. I actually - I married my husband after Gilbert proposed the first time and I turned him down out of fear. I didn't think then that I deserved someone like him because he was always too good for me."

"And you do now? Think that you are good enough for him?" Sarah's question comes out harsher than she intends, her face flushing with it.

"N - "

"I don't deserve her, Sarah," I reply for both of us, looking towards Anne with all of the love that I can gather.

"But why marry now at all? Isn't the law quite clear that you cannot have two marriages? This one is a sham," Michael insists, pressing the issue to understand why his friend is willingly getting involved in this uncertain state of affairs.

"Anne needs legal recognition of her new name. If we can show on paper that she's Cordelia Wright, now Blythe, we can argue that Gardner has a case of mistaken identity. That's what we hope for, at least," I try to explain, urging them to side with us. It was a risk to do this but the benefit would far outweigh the negative if we didn't try.

"Gilbert, this is quite a risk you're taking. With your reputation, your practice… If the truth comes out and this man makes your complicity in this affair well known you'll lose everything!"

"I have nothing if Anne goes back to him, Michael. Don't you understand that? Surely you must understand that if Sarah was in this same position - if someone was hurting her the way Anne was hurt - you would risk everything to keep her safe?" The man looks taken aback at my words, his arm coming to wrap around his wife's shoulders protectively.

We watch as the couple on the couch turns to one another, their hands clasped tightly together and their exchange unspoken. I hold my breath as Michael turns back to me, an unreadable look on his face.

"Please don't expose her," I plead as he looks up at me. "Please help me keep her safe."

The man shakes his head and rubs his chin, leaning back against the couch for a moment of tense silence. When he looks up at Anne once more it's with a measured gaze, searching for something that I can't comprehend.

"Tell me about this man you're running from," he requests softly, conceding the fight and coming over to our side.

We spend the next hour with Susan next to us, recounting what we can from the last few months and sharing what Anne feels comfortable explaining of her past. When eventually the Turners stand up to leave it's with strong hugs and squeezes of the shoulders that they depart, promising to help in whatever way they can.

I try to see it as a victory but the way Anne disappears to her room afterwards, distancing herself from us, marks it as an evening that she would sooner rather forget. Letting her have her space, I help Susan tidy up the kitchen and then turn in myself, crawling into my bed and thinking over the afternoon.

There'd been no plan to involve others, not in any of our discussions since the curious arrival of Thomas Hughes at the New Year's party. I wasn't sure if this was the right step but knew that we didn't have much of a choice, not after everything that had happened. We needed people on our side who would protect Anne, that much was certain, but the relationships that we almost lost in the revealing of her identity were a risk that we had to begin to gauge.

With a heavy sigh I turn over in my bed and face the window, watching as the moon lights the sloping crest of the land outside. I hadn't expected my year to go this way. Hell, I hadn't expected to be married to Anne, least of all in this manner where our wedding night didn't involve us sharing even the same room. It felt uncomfortable, like a film covered us now that we couldn't shake off.

Had this been the right thing to do? I questioned myself, shifting to try to get comfortable but realizing the thoughts were what kept me awake and not the bed.

The only answer to the question that I could give was that the alternative was worse - Anne being taken back to her old life, disappearing into that marriage and not surviving it - that was unbearable. This discomfort, this uncertainty, was temporary. We would overcome it, just like every other roadblock we'd come up against.

"Gil?" Anne's voice cuts through my thoughts and I sit up to face her, my eyes wide as she pokes her head through my bedroom door. Her hair is down around her face, the dark shade emphasizing the shadows under her eyes and making her look ethereal, like a being not meant for this world. "Can I come in for a minute?"

Swallowing thickly, I nod and watch numbly as she tip toes across the space towards my bed. Without hesitation she crawls up beside me, her eyes trailing from my hands to my ears, a blush rising in her cheeks. I remember then that I'm still shirtless, my preferred attire for sleeping making me seem more forward than I was trying to be.

"I couldn't sleep," she admits quietly, leaning back against my headboard and watching me with those grey eyes. Her nightgown peeks out from under her sweater, a bright cream colour in the evening light.

"Neither could I," I reply lamely, glancing at her sideways and debating whether to get up and find a shirt or not. She seems unaffected by my state of undress and it's then I recall that this isn't new to her - she's spent years in bed with another man. The realization sours me for a moment and I push it from my mind, remembering that I had no right to judge her for any of it.

"What were you thinking of? Just now. Your smile went away." Anne reaches for my hand, linking her fingers with mine as she watches me with hooded eyes.

"I'd rather not say." It cuts out of me and she pauses, tightening her grip.

"Gil, please. We're married now," she presses, lifting her free hand to my cheek. I close my eyes at her touch, releasing a shaky breath.

"I remembered that this isn't as new to you as it is to me. That… That you've done this all before." She looks at me steadily as I say it, her fingers continuing their path through my curls until they slip down to my chest. There she pauses, her hand splaying over my heart.

"I've never done this with you before, so isn't it possible that it's just as new to me as it is to you?" Anne counters softly, waiting for me to exhale. She's got me there. I'd only ever imagined this scenario, my thoughts improper as they remember all the sleepless nights, and even then that was surely not enough. "Do you hold it against me Gil? That I'm ruined?"

"You're not ruined," I snap back, my brows shooting up in surprise that she would even suggest it. She smiles and leans towards me, her breath tickling my throat. It causes my skin to alight and my stomach to tighten with want.

"I should have said - "

"Don't say it," I interrupt, begging her not to say what I think she's about to say. I couldn't bear to hear it. We needed to move forward and past our 'should of's' or we'd never grow together in the present. We had to live in the now or we wouldn't survive. "You're here now. We found our way back," I state carefully and watch her skin flush, her eyes closing gently.

"I've missed you for so long," she whispers against my skin, her chest pressing against my arm as her head rests on my shoulder. I lift her chin so that I'm able to catch her eyes, to see the truth in them that she's always shown.

"Anne," I breathe, the sight of her stunning me for a moment. She licks her lips and my gaze dips down before locking back on hers, waiting, wishing. In another second she's capturing my mouth with hers, her arms snaking up around my neck and drawing me towards her.

I go willingly, my frame covering hers as she pulls me closer with every breath. We dissolve into each other, seeking and pressing for more, small gasps escaping our throats as our hands explore. She doesn't hesitate to draw my hand to her breast, urging me to feel her chest rise and fall and her nipple to pucker under her nightgown. It catches and stuns me, my body jolting as she drags her hands down my exposed skin to my hips and then lower still, her fingers slipping under the band of my sleep pants.

"Gil," she whispers, raw and heady as her nails scrape against my skin. My hips jerk at her touch, my hands squeezing as she nips at my ear. With a moan and a skipped sigh she rolls us over onto my back, her tiny frame crawling atop me and splaying my hands overhead. The movement isn't like anything I'd imagined before and yet still it drives me onward, gasping for breath as she suckles at a place below my jaw.

The scent and feel of her overwhelms me and I grip at her thighs, careful to keep my hands from taking too much all at once. With her hair tickling my face and her legs straddling my hips I fight to keep control, certain that if I let go it would all end too soon. God, was this too soon? I couldn't help but think reactively, the thought intruding with the fear of causing a distance between us erupting in my chest and causing me to still. She notices it instantly, her hand rising from where it had settled below my waist and coming to rest on my chest as she gasps for breath.

"What is it?" She asks lowly, her voice thick. I can feel the staccato beat of her heart rippling into my skin at every point of where we touch and it drives my body to flush.

"Is this - Anne, I don't want to make this - "

"Are you forcing me, Gil?" I shake my head and she sighs, her fingers drifting along my jaw. "Did you have to talk me into it? Did I ask you to stop?"

"No," I reply. She leans towards me and places her lips against mine, a soft kiss and a promise placed on my skin.

"I've wanted you for longer than I can remember. I wanted this. I want this. And we're married so what's stopping us?"

"Anne," I say on a sigh, cupping her face in my palm. How do I say what I need without pushing her away? "I want this too. You don't understand how much I want this. But I feel like maybe I'm not ready just yet. I don't want it to push us apart."

With a quiet laugh she slips down to lay across my chest, her breaths coming fast as her hair splays across my chest. "After all these years… We still can't figure out the timing," she adds softly before looking up at me once more.

"We're getting closer, if that helps," I reply pathetically, my arms coming up to drag the blanket over us as the tension starts to leave my body.

"It does. At least now we're both in the same chapter." Her statement brings a grin to my lips and I shift to brush my hand along her brow, searching her out. When her grey eyes find mine I lift my lips to hers and hold her to me for as long as I can.

"I love you," I murmur as she looks down at me with an easy smile. She curls into me then, her cheek pressing into my collar as her arm wraps around me. I could spend a lifetime here, just like this.

With a yawn Anne sighs and squeezes me to her, her voice soft as she whispers in reply, "I love you too."