Chapter Text
Anne Shirley-Cuthbert had never felt quite this nervous in all her life.
Not when, at age thirteen, she had boarded a train from Nova Scotia to Prince Edward Island to meet her new family. Not when she had carefully dressed and plaited her hair in the hopes of meeting her first-ever friend in Avonlea. Not even when she had sat for the Queen’s entrance examination earlier this year. Her future had never felt more tangible as it did here and now - waiting on a snow-covered train platform in the deepening twilight of a beautiful winter’s day.
A biting wind blew across the platform in another strong gust, sending large, wet snowflakes flying diagonally across the open expanse. Anne turned her head into the gale, squinting her eyes nearly-shut to keep out the snow while hoping to catch sight of a puff of steam or glint of steel in the distance.
Her braids flew out behind her shoulders - two long tails of golden red, woven carefully and purposefully as a nod to the boy whose arrival she so eagerly awaited. As she had pulled her braids over her shoulders and took one last look in the mirror in her bedroom at Blackmore House earlier today, she had remembered the long ago afternoon when the boy - her future - had reached out, pulled once, hard, at her plait, demanding her attention.
She had ignored him for as long as she could - had run from every desire she had ever felt pulling her toward him - until she could no longer keep herself in the dark. Now for the past few months, she had basked in the light of loving him - being loved by him - and she felt instinctively that the sun would never fully set on her again. Not even the long separation they had endured - had yet to endure - could keep her from feeling the warm glow of being loved by this one, only boy.
A long, high whistle sounded in the distance, making Anne’s heartbeat jump erratically. The snow continued to fall in heavy, brilliant curtains, limiting her vision, but underfoot she felt the rumble of the approaching train.
_____
Gilbert Blythe rested his forehead against the fog-covered window pane - hoping to be able to peer through the condensation within and sleeting snow without to glimpse the dark shape of the platform he knew was ahead. Every chug of the train beneath him felt like the pounding of his heart, his thoughts beating out the same rhythm in his head: Anne. Anne. Anne. Anne.
It had been more than four months since he had seen her, and their last meeting still felt as dream-like and unbelievable to him as it had on the very day he had raced through the streets of Charlottetown, the same rhythm pulsing in his veins then, as it was now. Anne. Anne. Anne.
The small, black velvet bag in his coat pocket felt as heavy as a brick, aware of it as he was of the unwavering direction of his every thought. He had spent the last four months working tirelessly - studying and writing and memorizing and reading everything he could, trying to distinguish himself from amongst his cohort, all of them new medical students at the University of Toronto. His drive and ambition were not connected to his desire for the girl with fiery red hair ahead, but somehow he felt more driven now that he had won her love than he ever had been before. Driven to become the best in his field - to follow his passions like she followed hers.
He would follow her anywhere.
The train began to slow, the chug s growing longer and further apart as they approached Charlottetown Station. Outside of his window, visibility had not improved. In fact, the snow seemed to fall more thickly than before, the world around him turned an almost-blinding white. White like her skin, with dark freckles of land and buildings just visible. The sky was no longer the blue of her eyes, but had turned the golden red of sunset of her long, shining hair.
Gilbert could not bring himself to care about the weather or the destination or the weeks of home and family and rest ahead of him. He was here - he had made it home to her - and nothing else mattered.
_______
Anne waited with bated breath, trying to breathe deeply and calm her thundering heart.
It was all real. It was not a dream. Those letters, his words - it was all real. He is here. Here for you. She repeated the words in lieu of pinches to her inner-arm, having the foresight for once to avoid bruising her delicate skin there.
Distracted as she was, she didn’t notice that the drifts of snow falling around her had become a deluge of heavy white flakes, blanketing both sky and ground. Anne craned her neck to instead look down the line of the train, hoping that she would be the first to spot Gilbert’s tall frame and soft curls above the throng of passengers busy disembarking. She stood on tiptoe, the better to see around the bodies wrapped in thick winter layers milling about her.
She felt the light touch of a finger on her shoulder, and whipped her head around quickly, nearly falling as she swiftly reversed the direction of her body on the narrow perch of her toes. Two warm, ungloved hands reached out to grip her elbows, steadying her.
Anne’s heart gave a kick and seemed to rise into her throat as her wide, blue eyes rose to meet his smiling gaze, his eyes the exact color of chocolate caramels. The sudden memory of the first candy she had ever eaten - during a rare outing from the orphanage two years before she had found her home at Green Gables - washed over her in a warm wave of pleasure, comforting and exhilarating.
He had told her that his would be the eyes with hunger in them - a line from his latest missive that had made her laugh out loud in surprise and delight - and, here and now, she felt the sudden urge to laugh rise up in her once more.
_____
Gilbert watched in wonder as Anne’s wide, fathomless eyes met and held his, and then, just a moment later, he sensed more than saw her soft, pink lips spread wide and split into a laughing grin. Gaze never leaving hers, he felt his own lips break out into a wide smile, a tide of emotions crashing in his chest and drowning out all thoughts.
He had imagined holding her close to him when they met, or even bucking propriety entirely (thus risking the wrath of their nearby travelers) and sweeping her into his arms for a long, passionate kiss, but he had never dreamed up the possibility of his just standing there, inches away from the object of his every desire, hands gripping her elbows, grinning mutely at her.
He didn’t want to move or speak, didn’t want to do anything but stand there and drink her in, but he couldn’t help but to breathe out a word - the one word that had kept time to his heartbeat as a pounding in his head; had driven him forward day after day for these long months - just once out loud.
“Anne,” he laughed out softly, his eyes never once leaving hers.
Her smile grew wider, warmer, and she didn’t break their eye contact, either; she only moved to open her mouth slightly, breathing out in a puff of white steam.
“Hi.”
Their reunion, uneventful by all outward appearances, yet incredibly significant to the two who stood wordlessly in an expectant bubble of light and happiness, was interrupted by the loud voice of the train conductor, standing nearby on the train platform and raising his voice to its fullest, causing both of them to jump slightly.
“Ladies and Gentleman! Canadian Railway Systems have announced the closure of all train lines until further notice due to winter white-out conditions! The next eastbound train is expected to leave tomorrow morning at 10am! Please remove all personal items from the train! You may claim your cases and trunks at the aft end of the train! Thank you for your attention!”
Anne and Gilbert, who had turned in unison to look at the shouting conductor, now turned back to one another, eyes wide. Gilbert’s mind was completely blank the moment his eyes locked back onto Anne’s. Well, perhaps not blank so much as distracted from his previous, split-second thought: Where am I going to stay tonight?
_____
Anne had made the quarter-mile journey to the Charlottetown train station for the past three days in a row - first on Wednesday, when she and Diana had accompanied Mrs. Blackmore, their caretaker here in Charlottetown and owner of Blackmore House, as she prepared to journey southeast to Montreal to spend Christmas with her daughter’s family there; then on Thursday, when she had accompanied her housemates - Diana, Ruby, Tillie, Josie, and Jane - to catch their train home to Avonlea; and once more for her own journey home today.
Diana had offered to stay in Charlottetown an extra day with Anne, but Anne had had the feeling that, though she would be lonely in the big, chilly house with only Lily for company, she would regret losing the opportunity to travel home the next day with Gilbert: to be alone together before arriving in the midst of the chaos and curiosity of Christmastime in Avonlea, even if just for an hour.
Later, as she left the train station side-by-side with Gilbert in the blowing snow, Anne had the sinking feeling that she would feel a lot less conflicted had she taken Diana up on her generous offer. After all, were Diana still in Charlottetown, Anne would doubtless be walking Gilbert to Aunt Josephine’s house at the present moment, ready to beg the use of one of her many guest rooms for the night until they could catch their belated train home in the morning. If Anne had a roommate - or any housemate, really, with the full use of their hearing (with which one might ferret out the presence of an illicit visitor in the house) to come home to, she would not be experiencing the hot, roiling mixture of anticipation and guilt bubbling away in the pit of her stomach.
_____
Anne and Gilbert’s interaction following the announcement of the train’s conductor had, of necessity, transformed into something almost businesslike as they walked together towards the end of the train to retrieve Gilbert’s small trunk.
Having secured his baggage, Anne heard herself inform Gilbert of the ample space available at Blackmore House, explaining to his shoes with an anxious, rambling note to her voice that, were he to accompany her to her nearby home, she was sure she could sneak him up to a bedroom there, thus preventing their needing to walk across town to Aunt Josephine’s house and put her out with an extra guest during this busy holiday season. He wouldn’t bother anyone at Blackmore House, and it would be easier to get there in all of this wet, blowing snow. If he didn’t mind. Would he like to?
When Anne didn’t receive a response after her breathless monologue, she inhaled deeply and forced her eyes from the ground to meet her companion’s. She found him smirking down at her, one eyebrow raised. She couldn’t help herself - she burst into a light, self-conscious peal of laughter that filled Gilbert’s chest with warmth.
“Don’t look at me like that, Doctor Blythe. I am not suggesting anything untoward, really. Just a practical solution to our current predicament. Besides… it would be a shame to waste this sudden opportunity to spend time… catching up… together by putting distance between us again.” Anne’s smiling voice belied the nervousness that was writhing in her torso like a live snake. She was much more afraid of his refusing her proposal than she was of her suggested housing arrangement flying directly in the face of societal propriety.
Gilbert didn’t answer her for another long, painful beat of her heart.
Then, at last, he reached out to her with his elbow, inviting her to place her arm through his. He smiled softly at her; eyes turning molten, despite the snow swirling around them, as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Lead the way home.”