Chapter 24

"Anne, I want you to come with me."

The silence in the dim room was deafening, and Anne sat in shock.

Owen's look was gentle as he watched her. "Anne, there was once a younger version of myself who came to this shore. He- he fell in love with a girl who did not believe herself free to love him back, and he was devastated when she chose another over him." Anne's face had paled, and she tried to keep herself steady. "Her name was Leslie."

Anne met his eyes then. "Leslie Moore?"

Owen froze. "How do you know her?"

Anne shook her head, pulling her hand back surreptitiously. "I have only heard of her, Mr. Ford," she whispered. "She was your Margaret, wasn't she?"

Owen's smile was faint. "She was. To me, she was Margaret. When I first came here I thought myself alone- I only needed privacy to work, and a roof over my head. I supposed I would find the quaintness of country society just diverting enough for a man supposedly recovering from illness. And instead- instead I found a goddess. Intelligent, proud, and beautiful- in every way unattainable. She inspired me to write- she set my soul on fire."

Anne felt a pang in her heart as she saw her own pale face in the mirror. Had anyone ever thought of her so passionately? Suddenly, a comment he once made came to mind. Without heat, she met Owen's eyes. "You've been searching for her, Mr. Ford."

There was a brittleness to his manner then that made her flinch. "Yes. I should have stopped long ago." He drew her hand back into his, holding it lightly. "Sometimes we waste our lives wishing for something that we can't have. I no longer want to do that. I want to make a new life- a life with you. I want you to come with me."

Anne's shock was absolute. "You- you want me to come- come where exactly?"

Owen sat down beside her, holding her hand in his. "Wherever you want to go, Anne."

"Mr Ford-"

"Owen," he said hoarsely.

Anne faltered at that. "Owen, I can't just leave-"

"Yes, you can," he said quietly. "Leave with me. If you wish to travel, we will travel. If you wish to make a life in some remote corner, then we can. There are no limits."

Anne pulled herself together sharply. "You can't be serious."

Owen gave a slight laugh. "I'm rarely anything else. Anne- come with me."

Something of the schoolteacher was on her face then, and Owen sat back, seeing the sternness in her eyes. "Owen, you have just told me of the woman you love- you cannot expect me to believe that you have feelings for me."

"On the contrary." His voice was gentle then. "I wanted to be gone from here months ago. I stayed- I stayed for you, Anne. For your passion and intelligence- for the way you instinctively understand the human heart. She- Leslie- is gone. I think I have always known that. And despite that pain, you have grown in my heart, Anne. I need you. I need you to reconnect me to life again."

Anne's mouth was dry, and she pulled back from him against her chair. "Owen, I can't save you from the pain of losing her-"

"Why not?" Owen asked her impatiently. "Isn't it possible to believe that the fates led me here to meet you? That you and I both deserve a chance to find happiness again?"

Anne shook her head in disbelief. "Owen, can you really imagine finding happiness with someone you don't love?"

At this, Owen sighed. "Anne, we do feel something for each other. There is a chemistry between us- a spark that both you and I have. I care for you. Do you think it doesn't hurt me to see you alone, to see your struggle each day, dependent on others to live when I could save you from that pain?"

Anne's grey eyes sparkled dangerously. "Owen, I don't need saving- and you do not need to fix me."

Owen slid his hand into hers, pleadingly. "Anne, consider this. Together we would heal- we would rewrite our stories. We would be free to live any life we wanted. My career can take us anywhere- I can take you to every place you have ever dreamed of seeing. I can surround you with luxury, procure anything you desire- it would make me so happy to do that for you. You would have the best of medical care- and we will find doctors that will make you walk again. I can take care of you, Anne- I can show you the world you were born for. You belong in circles far away from here."

Anne raised one shaking hand to her forehead, and she closed pain-filled eyes. Of all of the proposals she had received, there was a shard of bitterness in this one that had nothing to do with the man before her. Gilbert's face was before her then, and that of the unseen Leslie- the Leslie who would continue to haunt him until he made peace with his past. Oh, she'd been in his place before, wanting to move on, wanting to end the heartache by beginning again- but it wouldn't work.

"Owen, I can't," Anne said gently, a tear falling down her cheek. "I know the hurt you have in your heart- but I can't be her replacement."

Owen stood up then, his voice heated. "You would not be that! She removed herself, she chose to walk away from me. Do you believe I should wander the earth alone because of that choice?"

"No!" Anne said, her voice breaking. "Of course you deserve to start over- but not while she haunts you daily. Don't you feel her, like a specter in this room even now?"

Owen's body was stiff, and he paled in the flickering light. "Ghosts are not real, Anne."

She gave a bitter laugh then. "Oh, but they are. They are the hurt that does not leave until we make our peace with it. And until we do they haunt us."

Owen moved to the fireplace and turned to face Anne with an unnerving calm. "Perhaps she is here. But I will not keep any unholy alliance with the past- that is done with. But since you insist, I wonder what other ghost is present in this room." He watched her lips whiten, and came to stand before her chair. "I told you that I could see it in you. You say that you can't replace her- just who is it I cannot replace?"

Anne met his eyes evenly, despite the shiver that ran down her spine. "Like Leslie, someone from long ago."

He placed his hands in his pockets, studying her deliberately. "And have you made peace with that?"

Against her will, a wry smile formed on Anne's face. "It rather depends on the day."

Owen knelt at her feet then, his face fierce. "Then why not do so now? Anne, will he come back for you?" She flinched at his words, and he pressed on. "Anne, does he know where you are? I am offering you the chance to leave it all behind. We can give each other a new start- we owe it to ourselves to begin to live again. I will take you from here, I will carry you away from the things that have hurt you-"

"Owen, you can't run from it," Anne said softly. "It goes with you."

He carefully moved closer to her, his dark grey eyes burning. "Together, we can. I know you have hurt as I have- let me be the one who heals you. Come with me."

Anne was shaking when his pale hands come up to frame her face, and panic filled her when he bent his handsome face toward her. She pulled away, and Owen lifted his head, his eyes suddenly wary. "Anne, what is it?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide, and her breath coming unevenly. "Owen, I can't-"

"Come now, my darling, there's nothing to be frightened of-"

"No, don't." Anne's hands fluttered up in defence. "I can't do this again," she said pleadingly, her voice almost a whisper. His face whitened, and Anne drew in a sharp breath. "I'm so sorry."

The look of fury that crossed his face made her start. "And just what are you sorry for? For entertaining me all these months with no feeling for me whatsoever?"

Anne's chin rose, her green eyes shooting sparks. "Owen, I received you here as a friend. Nothing more. I am not Leslie Moore. I will not be her replacement. You and I both deserve better than that."

As Owen turned from her, he raised shaking hands up to cover his face. In another room- in another life, another woman had refused to leave with him- refused with a look on her beautiful face that was like death itself. The same helplessness covered him now, and he turned to see that Anne sat limply in her chair. He drew near her, his breath coming painfully. He dropped to his knees before her, trying to restrain his panic.

"Anne, I am begging you- please, please leave with me. Forget what has gone before- forget him. Let me care for you, let me love you-" he said brokenly.

"No, Owen," she said softly. "I won't. I gave my heart to someone long ago, and it is still his."

At her words, jealousy overwhelmed him and he grabbed her arms in desperation. "Anne, you are being foolish- I won't lose you to some romantic notion, I won't let you throw this chance away-"

And before Anne could move or make a sound, he pulled her into his arms sharply, pressing a painful kiss to her mouth. Once before he had done this to the girl he loved- once he had pressed Leslie to himself without restraint, had broken through her resolve and ignited the passion between them. In a heartbeat, he would realise that the Leslie who had so loved him may not have resisted- but an Anne whose heart belonged to another would not be the same. Owen recoiled at the look of cold fury on her face as she pulled herself away sharply.

"Unhand me," Anne said furiously, her green eyes afire. "I have given you my answer, and I expect you to abide by that." She pushed herself to her feet, anger radiating from her whole body.

Owen stood up from the floor, rubbing his wrist where he had fallen, his eyes smarting. "You can't be serious, Anne."

Anne's eyes glittered. "To quote you, Mr Ford, I am rarely anything else. Yours are not the actions of a gentleman here tonight- of someone willing to wait, and work and truly love someone. These are the actions of a man desperately running away. I won't run. I won't take the coward's way out."

Owen's jaw trembled as he viewed the girl before him, and his last words were laced with bitterness. "You won't ever get away from here. It will bury you alive."

Anne stepped away, her hands going to her arms where he had held her. An odd smile came to her face, and her chin lifted. "I dare say it's not the hardest death, by any means."

She held herself stiffly until the front door slammed behind Owen, and as it echoed through the cottage Anne gave a stifled sob, dropping to her chair suddenly. She raised a shaking hand to her bruised lips, but it was Gilbert's face in her mind when she lay her head against the chair and cried.

Out on the street, Owen mounted his horse in fury. He was leaving- he was heading far from here, far from the pain of this cursed shore. At the edge of town he suddenly stopped, turning the horse around suddenly. As rage pulsed through him, he kicked the horse to a canter. It all came down to one man- one man curiously linked to the women who had walked away from him.

Gilbert Blythe would answer for what he had done.

At that very moment Gilbert's head lay against the cool counter of his kitchen bench, and he sighed, hardly having the energy to move. Slowly, he straightened himself up from where he had rested, willing the kettle to boil faster than it was. Four days without proper sleep, and the six hour nap he had taken that morning hardly went anywhere near the amount that he needed.

Three houses had been burned down at Harbour Head on Sunday night- since that night he had made the long drive each day, treating multiple burns, fractures and smoke inhalation cases. A young boy had been trampled by terrified animals, and a woman had gone into premature labor in the wake of the fire. This on top of his regular calls meant that there had been no time to socialise- or more importantly, to make a call that had been heavily on his mind of late. Gilbert scowled as he filled up his cup. He'd barely had a chance to fill in his paperwork- and he'd not seen Anne in days.

He took his cup to the kitchen table, and slumped down in his chair. He'd thought about going around there tonight- hardly a sensible idea, though, when he couldn't keep his eyes open, let alone have a rational discussion. He had just pulled his notebook toward him to jot down some notes, when someone thumped against the front door loudly.

When Gilbert opened it, he looked in confusion at the sight of an enraged Owen Ford.

"What did you say to her?"

Eying the way the man's fists were clenched, Gilbert walked out onto the porch, closing his door behind him. "What did I say to whom, Ford?"

"Anne! What did you say to Anne?"

Gilbert's exasperation rose. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Owen stepped in close, his voice low. "Leslie. I know it was you. What did you say to Anne about her?"

Gilbert stood still, his voice deceptively quiet. "For the last time, Ford, I don't betray professional confidence. Why assume it was me?"

"You turned her from me!" Owen spat. "She knew about Leslie. She must have heard it from you-"

Gilbert gritted his teeth. "And the fact that you have done nothing to suppress the gossip about Leslie by asking everyone who knew her for information? Did you never think that people are talking more because you came here? You boarded with her-"

"You were at the house constantly-"

"As a professional! And don't think I don't know what you've been saying."

Owen glared at him. "And what would that be?"

The doctor's voice was calm, but fury covered his face. "That you covered up your visits to her house by questioning mine in front of others. It caused no end of trouble for Leslie, Ford. Cornelia Elliot suspected you then." Gilbert's jaw clenched. "Did you never think that she alone might have known where Leslie was? She has cared for Leslie since she was a child. And your behaviour made sure she would never tell you."

"She has nothing to do with this," Owen said savagely. "And you- are you so bitter that you would poison another woman against me? Why? Why would you even care about Anne?"

Gilbert advanced on Owen menacingly. "You can't claim to know anything about me, Ford. As for Anne, I said nothing. I should have. I should have told her just what you were capable of."

Owen gave Gilbert a bitter smirk. "Oh, I think she knows exactly what I'm capable of now."

White rage filled Gilbert, and he fisted his hands into Owen's jacket, slamming him without warning against the wall of the house. "What did you do to her?" he bellowed, his face mere inches from Owen's sickly pale one.

Owen's breath came in a grunt, and his look was venomous. "Well, why don't you just ask her? You are supposedly friends, aren't you?"

Without warning, Owen's head hit the wall as Gilbert's fist struck him squarely. He slid down the wall, groaning as his nose spouted blood. Gilbert stood over him in disgust. "Never go near Anne again. And Ford? It wasn't my fault that Leslie left. It wasn't my fault that she wouldn't leave him. You need to stop blaming everyone else and take some responsibility. She made those decisions- and if you'd not flown off in a rage you would have had time to talk with her. And you needn't look at me either to see why Anne didn't chose you- she's a better judge of what she wants than anyone." Gilbert stepped over his legs to walk through his front door without looking back. "Hang your head back, Ford. The blood will clot better."

Before Gilbert could shut the door on him, Owen staggered to his feet. "Who knew you had it in you, Blythe," he muttered sarcastically. "You didn't leave savagery behind you in that frontier town?"

Gilbert's jaw clenched. "We form pretty unshakable bonds in that town. I advise you not to mess with us." He slammed the door then, and once inside he clenched his fingers painfully, waiting to hear Owen's horse move away. He took his jacket from the peg on the wall. Tiredness was far from him as he strode to the barn to saddle Hippocrates, apologizing with a swift pat to the horse who wanted home as much as his master. Sleep or not, he had to see Anne.

When Gilbert arrived at the cottage, Anne herself was there to open the door, her eyes clear. She seemed surprised to see him, but welcomed him inside.

"I hope you don't mind, Anne, but I took Hippocrates around to the barn to give him some hay and rest while I'm here. He's had a long day of it."

Anne smiled. "Our horse will be happy for the company, I believe- they seem to get along quite well."

Gilbert looked around him warily. "Is Susan in?"

"She's gone to bed with a headache. It's just me, tonight. Come and I'll prepare some tea for us."

Anne laid a tray with some help from a rather quiet Gilbert. The pie was still warm from the oven, and Gilbert carried the tray through to the sitting room. He watched her carefully, thinking that everything appeared to be normal. If he hadn't seen Owen that night, he supposed he wouldn't have known any different. Still, from long experience, he knew that appearances didn't mean much. Eschewing his normal chair, he sat beside her on the long sofa so that both of them were facing the fire, and Anne sighed in relief.

"Tired?"

Anne closed her eyes. "Yes. It's been a long day. Friday often is."

He studied the way that she maneuvered her leg onto the stool. "Are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself?"

Anne's face lit with good humour. "You are being a worrywart today, Gil. I'm fine."

Gilbert folded his arms, watching her. "I just had a visitor. Owen Ford."

This brought her eyes to his, and Anne scowled, however he only shrugged. "I'm fine," she said firmly, brooking no disagreement.

"Did he hurt you?"

Anne did not answer immediately, and her voice was suspiciously light. "I'm surprised that the two of you talked. I didn't think you got on all that well together."

"We don't. And less after tonight, I feel," Gilbert said grimly.

Anne gave him a startled look. "Oh?"

Gilbert shifted in his chair uneasily. "It's a long story. But he said enough to concern me about his behaviour while he was here."

Anne swallowed. "I can't imagine that he would tell you anything-"

"Let's just say I've become very good at reading between the lines. Can you tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"You don't need this, Gil. I can see that you are tired."

Gilbert tipped his head back to watch her, his stomach contracting in worry. "Anne, I need to know if you're alright."

She didn't look up, but unexpectedly her forehead creased, tears forming at his gentle concern. "No. Not really."

Anne pulled her feet up on the sofa, her hands clasped around her knees, bringing a faint smile to Gilbert's face. She looked so young like this- like they had been as children. Her voice was quiet in the dim room.

"Very well, then. Owen came around before tea time." Her eyes were on the low fire in the grate, and she missed the way that Gilbert tensed. "He- he's been a little strange, lately. He mentioned things a few times now about second chances and so forth- and I came to realise that he was talking about us."

"You and Owen?"

"Yes," Anne said simply. "But it isn't so simple. There was someone else, from long ago. Someone he loved."

Gilbert's eyes were stony. "Leslie."

Anne's glance shot up, a slight edge in her voice. "So you know her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her look was impatient. "Do you have any idea how often I have heard the townsfolk speak of Leslie Moore, Gilbert? To hear them talk, she seems to have been more spirit than woman, some siren who lures men out into the deep waters. The woman with the hair of gold who had every man under her spell, whose husband mysteriously vanished and reappeared, the one whom Owen was searching for- " she broke off then with a slightly bitter sigh. "And with whom even the good Doctor Blythe was rumored to be infatuated."

He rolled his eyes, and turned to face her. "Anne, who are you going to listen to? If you want to know something, just ask me."

Anne's cheeks flushed, and she drew in a deep breath. "So you knew Leslie?"

He seemed to be weighing something up as he watched her, and his shoulders finally squared. "Yes. Because I was her doctor." Anne sat back in surprise, and he continued, his voice brittle. "You know that I would not normally violate doctor-patient confidentiality. But with Owen here- and with you- I haven't known whether it was up to me to say something- or if you would even want to know."

Anne's piercing gaze was on him. "You didn't know whether to tell me what you knew."

"No."

Anne's hands were clasped in her lap now, her grey eyes gentle. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. You should never have been put in that position."

At this he gave a dry laugh. "Anne, that's the price of my profession. I know a thousand things that I wish I didn't- I've had to work in situations that I wish I was a million miles from- or that I could go in there and make sure no one could ever be hurt again. I'd never let women go back to houses where they are in danger- where little children are neglected." He looked at Anne's face, and saw the tears swimming there, and cursed himself for forgetting her past and speaking so thoughtlessly.

"You would help them all if you could. I know that," she said quietly, and he jumped as her hand unexpectedly grasped his.

He let out a breath, his head falling against the sofa back. "There's no one you can talk to about it, either. Apart from another doctor- who most likely has worse stories that you do." Absently, his thumb stroked her fingers. "But with you- I didn't know what to do about Owen. Maybe he was just a friend- maybe you wouldn't want to know about the past."

Anne sighed. "We're not children anymore, Gil. And he told me the story himself."

She was startled to see the reserved look on his face then. "Not the whole story."

Anne looked at him, bewildered. "Anyone can see he has led a fairly worldly life, Gilbert. He didn't hide that. And it sounds as if it all happened so long ago."

"Try last year."

She pulled her hand from his then, in shock. "What do you mean?"

"He met her two years ago," Gilbert said deliberately. "She left here last summer. She was trapped in an unhappy marriage until the man she thought was her husband regained his memory and mental faculties after an operation that I advised. And I'll bet that Owen never told you the position he put her in while all that was happening."

Anne's cheeks were pale. "No. Is Leslie alright?"

Gilbert gave her a gentle look. "I think so. When George Moore left her care, she left Four Winds. I don't know where she is." Anne was silent, and he continued, deliberately. "And no, I was not infatuated with her. She was a married woman, and my patient. It would be completely unethical. But you know what small towns are like for gossip."

Anne let out a shaky breath. "Do you know, I almost miss the conversations we used to have in the old days- nothing so grown up or weighted as this."

To this he chuckled. "Well, you said it. We're not children anymore." He was silent for a moment, before asking- "So what happened tonight then?"

As his hazel eyes held hers, she flushed, remembering that he had answered a question she had not dared ask. Surely he deserved equal candor from her.

"He came-"

"You said that-"

"And he asked me to go away with him."

"For a trip, you mean."

"No. Permanently. He's leaving." Gilbert looked at Anne's pale face in the firelight, her eyes fixed on the darkness outside. Her red hair was pulled back smoothly now, and he found himself studying the still perfect silhouette her profile gave. "He wanted me to go with him. To give up teaching, and apparently to live in the lap of luxury all my life."

Gilbert swallowed then. "To marry him."

"I suppose so, yes."

"You suppose so?"

Anne gave a slightly bitter laugh. "Well, he never mentioned that- although I had assumed that was what he meant. He painted wonderful pictures of the life we would lead, the stories he would write-"

"And what of your stories?" Gilbert said, incensed.

"You know that I don't write anymore, Gilbert," Anne said with a sigh. "Owen does. He wants to begin all over again, to find a new life. He wants to leave Four Winds behind for good."

He was silent for a moment, as he contemplated all that Ford had offered her. "I see. You- you weren't tempted by that?" Gilbert asked lightly. "Security, stability-"

At this she rolled her eyes. "Gilbert, that's why I teach. I need to earn that for myself." Anne was silent for a moment, somehow needing to be honest. "I won't pretend that the idea of settling wasn't tempting. Doing life alone hasn't been easy. And he paints a lovely picture. However, there's no love in it."

"You don't think he loved you?" Gilbert asked slowly, and she shook her red head.

"No. He's still in love with her. I won't be a substitute, and I won't settle for less than love," Her hands gestured helplessly then. "Owen is impetuous and romantic- but I learned a long time ago that neither of those things have much do with real love." Anne said softly, making the cup of tea halfway to Gilbert's mouth stop. He put down the cup in slightly shaking hands, one of which he flexed rather painfully. Anne didn't notice this. "He then tried to appeal to my situation in life, to make me reconsider, I suppose. When I said no, he didn't listen- and he-" Anne stopped cold, not knowing how to continue.

Gilbert folded his arms, knowing that he was about to ask questions he had no business to ask. And somehow, he knew she would answer them anyway. "What did he do?"

"He told me that I was foolish, and said he wouldn't let me give up this opportunity to get away from here- and he grabbed my arms."

Gilbert's lips tightened. "And then?"

Anne sighed, impatient to get the story over. "Gil, you can probably guess the rest. Without any permission being given, he kissed me. I was angry at his forwardness and pushed him away, we quarreled and then he left."

He ran his hand through the brown curls on his head. "Anne, did he hurt you? You didn't fall?"

She gave him a cross look. "You won't let this go, will you? Look, I might slightly bruise on my arms, and he certainly wasn't gentle- but I promise you that I am alright." She raised a hand to a graze on her lip and scowled. "I doubt that he would dare try it again."

Gilbert drew in a shaking breath, grateful that it had been no worse. Still, the fury within him rose, and he set his mouth grimly. He'd hit him again if he had the chance. He turned to Anne, regret covering his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that it happened."

Anne turned to look at his dear face with a pang. "It's alright. I'm alright, Gil." Anne let silence fill the room, and his serious hazel eyes turned to her. "It was worse with Leslie, wasn't it?"

Gilbert looked into the grey eyes that had kept more beautiful, and more terrible secrets than he had ever known, and nodded. "They had an affair," he said quietly. "It started months before I came to the Glen. She did love him. She found out that she was pregnant after he had left. The town would have known that the child couldn't have belonged to her mentally impaired husband- and she was terrified of what would happen."

Anne's breath caught, and her fingers closed around his sleeve. "Gil, that poor girl-"

He shrugged, defeated. "She lost the baby only weeks later. Owen never knew- she refused to tell him. When it was over she left the Glen. She told me that she was going to family somewhere on the mainland. But you can see why I wanted to speak up when he started coming around here. You didn't know him." Gilbert gave a half hearted grin. "I was worried about you."

She tentatively reached out her hand to touch his. "Gilbert Blythe, you are a good friend," she said softly, and was surprised when he shook his head, swallowing.

"A good friend wouldn't have cut you out of his life because he misread your feelings eight and a half years ago."

He wasn't looking at her then, and so he didn't see the sharp pain that crossed her pale face at his words. He gripped her hand in his, wondering if it was her fingers shaking or his own.

"A good friend wouldn't have done any of the things that I did to you," Anne said in a tortured whisper that broke his heart. "I'm so sorry, Gil."

There was silence in the room for a few minutes, and then Gilbert squeezed her hand, bringing her eyes to his. "I missed you."

Anne's eyes were on their hands, and she blinked back tears. "I missed you too." She pulled out the handkerchief from her pocket then, busying herself with wiping her eyes to hide the trembling in her fingers.

He let out a deep sigh then, and gave Anne a piercing look. He would talk to her soon- but he wouldn't do it to her tonight.

"Well, I'm glad you're alright. Should you perhaps keep a slate on you in the future, in case other gentlemen prove contrary?"

Anne chuckled. "I had hoped this community wouldn't learn of my temper anytime soon- I have a reputation to keep, you know."

Gilbert's tone was dry. "Don't we all." He bent down to pick up the pie Anne had served, and let out a gusty breath. "Thanks for this. I must have missed lunch today."

Anne gave him an indulgent look. "And is Susan the real reason you love to visit us? Has she won your heart with her cooking?"

He gave her his old cheeky smile. "I won't lie to you, I never eat half this well at home."

Anne shifted against the lounge, stretching her feet out on the footstool. She looked around her home thoughtfully. "It's a lovely place to live. I'll admit I was worried about moving here at first. I didn't know if Susan would be able to help me the way that I needed, if she would be a kindred spirit. She's been simply wonderful. And something tells me that this is my life now- a pleasant home, and a life spent doing good work."

Gilbert watched her, regretting the calm acceptance in her voice. She'd hoped for so much more- for adventure, for romance. He cleared his throat, and manufactured a grin.

"Well, the bright side is that Roy certainly won't be back."

Anne's eyes shot up to meet his, and she swallowed. "You mean Owen."

Gilbert's look was startled, and he frowned at Anne. "What did I say?"

She gave a faint smile. "Roy. You said Roy."

This made his eyebrows fly up in shock, and he crossed his arms with an attempt at nonchalance. "Oh. Trick of the memory, I guess."

Anne chuckled, hoping to break the tension that had formed so quickly. "Too much reminiscing, I suppose. You're right, we shouldn't get caught in the past. What should we talk about instead?"

Gilbert grinned, taking her question as a lifeline. "I don't suppose you've read the latest Sherlock Holmes, have you? The Memoirs? I finished it between patients."

This made her laugh, and she turned to face him on the couch. "I found it very interesting. Do you suppose he really is dead?"

The two of them talked until the fire grew low, when Gilbert reluctantly stood up to leave.

"I'd better get some sleep, I have three babies due this week. They typically don't like to wait until morning."

Anne smiled. "No, they don't. The first birth I ever saw was just after midnight on Christmas Eve." Gilbert looked at Anne in surprise. "He was a trifle impatient to enter the world, the doctor only just made it that time."

Gilbert watched her, an odd feeling welling up inside. "How old were you?"

She pushed a red curl behind one ear, her face untroubled. "Oh, around eight or nine, I think."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at her with almost an eager look. "And what did you think?"

Anne laughed then, a silvery sound he hadn't heard from her in a long time. "Aside from the mess- it was- miraculous." Her grey eyes met his then, and he smiled.

"That's what I think too."

Anne stepped away to put another log on the fireplace, shooing Gilbert away when he tried to do it for her.

"Gil, it's alright, I can do this. You know that I ask for help when I need it."

"Oh really-"

"Now, I meant now-"

He laughed and took the hat she handed him, when Anne's eyes suddenly fell on the discolored knuckles on his right hand. Her eyes flew back to his, as he quickly pushed them into his pocket. "Is that new?" she asked, her voice deceptively quiet.

He gave her an impudent look. "My suit? Yes. Thank you for noticing."

She levelled him with a glance, and before he could back away she pulled his hand from his pocket, touching it gently. He remained still, his heart pounding oddly. When she released him, he kept his eyes averted, idly studied her stockinged feet. He'd had no intention of her finding out, and tucked the bruised hand away carefully.

"Gil, why?" she whispered. "Why would you do that?"

He put his black felt hat on his head, and opened the door behind them. "Because it had to be done," he said, and gave her a quick smile, "You should get some sleep. 'Night, Anne."