A/N: I do not own any of these characters. Please let me know what you think by the end of it! ♡
That chilly morning, when Anne Shirley-Cuthbert rose from bed, there were sun beams illuminating her room in a beautiful spring-like manner, and the magnificent Snow Queen was blooming with hundreds of small buds, making a big smile appear on the face of the red-headed girl. She braided her hair with a dreamy look in her eyes, while hundreds of things passed through her fast-paced mind instead of the task at hand, as Marilla often pointed out. "I can't wait to spend a delectful morning with sweet little Delphine," she said to herself in the mirror, with a sigh. This was the first time she could tend to a baby with happiness - the memories of past times she had to take care of children came to her, and she drew a sharp, shaky breath. Those weren't the sunniest of times, yet being at Green Gables and being loved by Matthew, Marilla, Diana and all of her dear friends had taken away most of the exasperation she used to feel from time to time due to her past life.
Breakfast was a pleasant affair, and by the end of it, Marilla was feeding adorable Miss Delacroix with her much required morning amount of warm milk. As Anne took away the content upon the table, she saw someone approach the porch. "Gilbert," her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. At the moment she saw Gilbert's anguished expression through the glass, she felt frozen for a second. What could it be? "Certainly, nothing serious..." she feebly reasoned to herself. However, Anne knew it in her heart something was wrong, and it was. She readily opened the door for Gilbert to come inside of the Green Gables kitchen.
"It's Mary", said he, with a sorrowful look in his eyes that made Anne's heart shrink in her chest. "She just recieved a diagnose from dr. Ward...". As he explained, and then her heart fell like a stone inside of her, "... and she would like to be with Delphine now". Matthew went straight outside to make arrengements for the buggy, while Marilla, wordlessly, squeezed Gilbert's arm with her hand, in her stiff attempt to show solidarity towards him. Anne didn't say anything, nevertheless she felt so sorry for Gilbert. He had went through so much- His father, his mother, even his siblings- and Mary was clearly such a beloved friend to him. Anne herself knew that no one was strong enough to go through so much loss unaffected.
After Delphine was safely warm and involved in a wool blankie inside of Marilla's arms, Anne sat in the back of the buggy.
"Think I'll walk".
"May I join you?".
"Suit yourself", said Gilbert, as a slightly surprised look went through his face.
As they walked, Anne felt she just had to say something from the havoc going on inside her mind: in what did this imply for Delphine? how long did she have to be with her mother? she would be like herself now... "I- I can't fathom it."
Further along the way, Gilbert suddenly started to walk a little faster and speak, finally blurting out what was bottled inside of his chest since the beginning of the morning. "I don't think I can be a doctor. Doctors are supposed to- I was... I had to tell her- but I-"
"Oh, Gilbert-".
"No, don't". Anne stopped short where she was, listening attentively to the feelings Gilbert decided to give voice to. I'm not the one dying," he said indignantly. "I'm not the one who's losing everything... I'm just-".
" A friend," Anne exclaimed passionately, "who delivered the most terrible news to someone they love!". She hurried to walk beside him, trying to convey her point.
"Mary needed me to be strong", he said, letting out a distressed sigh. "I just made it worse". His heart boiled with so many emotions: sadness, indignation, anger- at the poor doctor, at the illness, at himself- Him, who was about to lose yet someone else he loved and once again was completely defenseless as death mockingly took another one from him. And Mary- lovely Mary, who had fit right into his and Sebastian's life, bringing joy, laughter, wisdom, delicious meals, precious Delphine into their otherwise dull home. Mary, who was like a mother figure to him, he remembered fondly, filling a void he didn't even remember was inside him- she would sometimes shuffle his curls, fuss over whether or not he was eating well, take care of his clothes, ask about girls- simply taking care of him. He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. She had asked him in her humorous, tranquil banter, when she would be better, expecting to hear that there was a medicine, a cure. Expecting that from him. And what did he do? Cry. Like a child. he chuckled bitterly. "I couldn't find the words, and I made it worse".
