Apologies, dear readers! Just corrected the typos in this chapter. Sorry about that! Thanks for reading :D

Anne shifted in her seat, trying for a position in which she might be able to rest a bit. The train would go throughout the night, which was fine. Actually, she quite liked it. Being on the road had always felt like the safest place to be - second to Green Gables, once she'd gotten used to it.

For once, though, the road wasn't an escape. She'd been safe under the Doctor's care, and with the Ulaafsens. A twinge of guilt passed through her at the thought of the taciturn, kind hearted family who'd taken her in. She'd left them a small note, and hoped they wouldn't be too offended.

The letter she'd left Dr. Lebrun was a bit longer. She'd worded it extremely carefully, and hoped fervently that he would understand. How wonderful he'd been with her, how much she'd learned...One day, she would repay him. And Jack. There were many people she would have to answer to, but right now, she had somewhere to be: someone important to see.

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Jem liked bedtime at the Wrights'.

At first, he and Freddie were even allowed to share the bed, until crybaby Walter, who always had to ruin everything, had gone and complained having to sleep alone, and now he and Walter had to share the folding bed Uncle Fred had brought down from the attic. It didn't matter, though, sharing a room with his cousin was still loads of fun. Freddie was older than he was, and his war games were far better and more sophisticated than his. They'd wait after Auntie Di'd tucked them all in and fussed over them relentlessly, giving each of them a goodnight kiss and more fussing (well, alright, that part wasn't so bad, but it was a bit embarrassing) - after she'd left the room, he'd count to twenty, then lean closer to Freddie's bed, and they'd talk in hushed whispers about soldiers and guns, strategy and battles. Sometimes they'd plan to pick up the discussion the next day after breakfast, though most of the time, they'd fall asleep mid-thought. The Wrights got up very in the morning to do chores.

Jem also liked mornings at the Wrights'. Getting up early was a challenge, but once up, he got to go help Uncle Fred with the cows and the horses. Back at home, all they had was chickens and only one horse. The Wrights had chickens, two horses, and a whole barn full of cows. Milking them was fun, especially after Freddie had shown him the right way to do it, and he also liked brushing the horses. Shovelling hay was less fun, but Uncle Fred let him and Freddie chat and play while they worked, as long as they got everything done before breakfast.

Jem liked breakfast at the Wrights' most of all. There was sausage, and eggs, and potatoes, and hot buns and preserves. Auntie Di would always let him have a second bun, heaping a generous serving of preserves on top, and smile at him in a way that made him feel warm inside.

He knew she wasn't his real aunt - she wasn't his father's sister, nor his mother's - but if he could choose, Auntie Di would be the perfect one. She was always smiley and sweet, and didn't raise her voice much or cry. She let him go on errands with Uncle Fred, whom he liked very much as well. She always made sure his clothes fit just right, tugging at his hems and cuffs - that part was annoying, but he liked the way she paid attention to how tall he was growing (nearly as tall as Freddie). He also liked that she punctuated every interaction with a pat and a kiss, just like an aunt should.

Jem sighed contently, turning his head on the big, fluffy pillow Auntie Di had just fluffed. He liked it here at the Wrights'.

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Three men occupied the dimly lit office: one stood by the telephone, waiting to be connected to a call, while the second paced restlessly from wall to wall, a very crumpled note in tow. The third ignored them both, and sat facing the fireplace, finishing his drink.

Jack refilled his glass, then tilted the bottle towards the other two with a questioning glance. Lebrun shook his head mutely, still waiting for an operator, and Blythe turned a slight shade of green. Fine by him: it was his turn to get drunk, anyway. He turned back to face the flames and savoured a small sip of the pale yellow liquid. It was the only thing in Lebrun's house strong enough for him - a gift from the Ulaafsens next door, labeled 'AKVAVIT' (which was probably swedish for 'you'll feel this in the morning'). Whatever it was, it certainly did the trick.

"This is a waste of time." Gilbert stopped in the middle of the room to glare at Garrison. "We should be on the road."

"For the last time, we are not driving anywhere as long as the roads are iced. And even if they weren't, we don't know for sure until the ticket booth at the train station reopens, and that's not for another-" he paused to consult his wristwatch, "-eleven hours. So do us a favor, Blythe, and stop wearing a hole in the floor."

There was little satisfaction in hearing the bitterness of Garrison's voice, but Gilbert would take what he could get. Not so fun worrying about where Anne might have disappeared to on her own, was it? Well, at least she'd left him a note. That his wife would write in her note for Dr. Lebrun (if one could even call him a doctor) a thanks to Jack for 'all his help,' to ask him not to worry and that she would 'be in touch' but not even mention Gilbert once - simply slayed him.

Dr. Lebrun observed the two men with fascination. The operator had disconnected a while ago: he was merely using the receiver in his hand as a prop, something to give him the appearance of one who wasn't paying too much attention. Anne, who'd thought herself undesirable, now had two men worried to the nerve about her well being.

He was somewhat concerned as well, though not as much. Her mental condition had improved, and while she hadn't felt ready to face her family, she had chosen to move outside of the bounds of comfort, to go 'pay a visit long overdue'. The fact that she wanted to see anyone besides him and Jack Garrison was a positive development. He had a fair idea of where she might be - on this, all three men could agree - and if they were right, then she was at the very least in good hands. They would know more tomorrow - for now, he would sit back and watch.

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Walter hated bedtime at the Wrights'.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He liked the part where Auntie Di would come and tuck 'her boys' in. He liked that she said goodnight to Freddie and Jem first, so that she could spend a little more time saying goodnight with him. Her hand would rest on his cheek, and she would make her voice quiet, like a lullaby, and she would ask him if he was doing alright. If he wasn't, she would listen to his troubles and console him, but lately, he'd taken to saying he was fine so as not to worry her. Still, she would often spend an extra minute to brush his hair with her fingers, tell him of all the nice things they might do the next day, and kiss his brow, and cheeks, and nose, before bidding him goodnight and closing the door. Her footsteps would barely reach the bottom of the stairs before Jem would flip over, sticking his feet near Walter's face, and he and Freddie would laugh and talk together, and ignore him.

Even without the noise they made, Walter couldn't sleep well at the Wrights'. The bed was fine, but it wasn't his bed, or his room, or his house. He'd tried to be brave the first two nights, sleeping alone on the small bed in the corner, but the house sounded, felt, smelled different than his own. He'd had several bad dreams, only to wake up in a strange place. Craving familiarity so badly it ached, he'd asked to share a bed with Jem, and now his brother was cross with him, and wouldn't even speak to him. Not that it changed much, Jem never liked spending time with Walter anyway.

And then, there was the farm. Auntie Di let him help with the house chores instead of the farm, after an incident with one of the cows had reduced him to tears. It involved more fear and embarrassment than pain, but Uncle Fred had stopped teasing him about it, and Walter liked being inside more anyway. Sometimes he'd help with the laundry, other times he would play with Jack. Though this cousin was far too young to hold a real conversation, it was nice to have a playmate who didn't look at him with scorn all the time.

Try as he might, he couldn't imagine himself away to any of his typical refuges: never ending beaches, magical forests, shimmering seas...the only place he could imagine was home, with his parents.

Walter pulled the covers up to his eyes and issued the same prayer he'd been sending every night: Mommy, please come back.