It was official: Gilbert Blythe had reached a new low. The relentless headache and lingering nausea made him weak and dull-minded. His face was poorly shaven and remarkably bruised. His clothes were ripped and sullied with blood, sweat, dirt and who knew what else, and while. The glaze over his eyes completed the homeless street bum look.

Worse yet, he was being driven (to a destination yet unknown) to see his wife (whom he hadn't be able to locate on his own) by another man (who had known her intimately).

Sure, Garrison had sworn that 'nothing like that happened'. The night before, he'd taken great pleasure in taunting him with all sorts of innuendos, twisting the knife in all directions. Today, though, he was doing his best to assure Gilbert of his wife's virtue. He wasn't sure which was worse.

The vague allusions and hinting euphemisms had hurt the most. In those, he heard the voiced opinions of his colleagues, patients, the whole blasted community. They insulted both his wife - odd-looking, flighty woman, unworthy of their good standing - and his inability to keep his wife.

On the other hand, Garrison's pity made him feel even more terrible. Even if the man hadn't laid a finger on Anne (and the jury was still out on that one), the fact remained that he had gotten close to his wife. Whatever it was she needed and hadn't received from Gilbert, she'd gotten from Garrison. She'd kept her own husband in the dark as to her whereabouts, but gladly gone gallivanting around the country with this strange man she'd only known for a matter of weeks. Even if the betrayal hadn't been physical, it had almost definitely taken place on an emotional, sentimental level. And mercy, that felt horrible.

Several times during the train ride, he found himself furiously wondering why he was bothering, going through all this to reconnect with a woman who obviously didn't want him in her life anymore (and maybe she never really had). If he were to be completely honest with himself, he was also afraid of how little she would care to see him now, and of the nature of her relationship with Jack. Ladies and Gentlemen, Gilbert J. Blythe was a true coward.

And when he wasn't busy fuming or cowering, he found himself tugged by such a keen sense of longing, it nearly resembled hope. Even through all the hurt and turmoil, she was still his Anne: his best friend, his partner in all things good and bad, the person who'd been closer to him than anyone, with the exception of his parents. She'd seen him at his best and at his worst, she'd known every inch of him without his clothes on. She'd carried his babies inside her. No matter what had been said or done, he would still gravitate towards her. He needed her by his side.

The conductor called their stop, and they stepped out. With few words exchanged between the two of them, they went to fetch Garrison's horse and the buggy, and hit the road once again.

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Dear Joel,

Please accept my sincerest apologies for not being able to come visit you when I was last in Toronto, my meeting ran much later than originally planned. I do hope we will be able to see each other next time I am in the area. Naturally, you are always welcome to stop by my place.

Do you recall the method we'd discussed at the annual conference in Montreal, regarding induced perception shifting? I am writing to tell you that I have tried it for the first time - and it worked! I asked [Patient 34] during a routine role reversal to combine the exercise with a time shift, and address a twenty year younger version of herself. The subject's response was quicker than I'd anticipated, and she was able to confront repressed memories of what I suspect might have been involuntary manslaughter committed during early childhood. Without going into too much detail regarding the case, Patient 34 had been holding herself accountable since then of all deaths around her, including her own parents, her first born child, as well as several childhood friends and adoptive guardians.

There was, as I am sure you are suspecting, a fair bit of hypnosis involved. You are aware of my aversion to any kind of chemical intervention, and under no circumstance would I ever try it on a patient of my own, but I must admit to being curious to know whether a sedative might not help the process along. Of course, we must not get ahead of ourselves. While promising, the results are to be considered inconclusive until the method is tested on more subjects.

Even so, do you realize what this means? Please indulge me while I come off as self-congratulatory, I know you will understand when I say that the advances of our field never cease to amaze me.

I hope all is well, and that we may get together soon to discuss this further. Please send Marthe my fondest regards. Until we meet again, I remain yours,

Pierre Lebrun

P.S.: Proofreading this letter, I realize the implications made in the second paragraph are dire. I am still a man of honor, and stay on the right side of official justice (no, I have not forgotten this lesson, dear friend). Please rest assured that I am convinced beyond doubt of Patient 34's innocence in the matter of law.