Marilla stood at the kitchen door, nervous hands twisting into her apron. She looked out into the setting sun, seeing no hint of the girl she had expected home several hours ago. It made no difference that Anne was older now, and that she had been wandering the nooks and crannies of Avonlea since she arrived there six years earlier. Marilla sighed, turning back to glance at the clock that ticked relentlessly on the mantelpiece.

She moved back into the kitchen, not able to keep from glancing out the window as she rinsed the tea things from earlier that afternoon. As she cleared away and began supper preparations, she realised that Anne had not eaten that afternoon at all. She had delivered Davy and Dora, still wide eyed from their first few weeks of school, herself uncharacteristically quiet. To be sure, Davy had more than made up for that: he was full of tales of classroom rivalries, of daring exploits certain members of the Boulter family had supposedly accomplished.

Marilla's eyes had followed Anne as she walked up the stairs with little more than a greeting. She had returned some minutes later, and made a pretence of drinking tea. In the presence of Davy and Dora she was unwilling to question the girl, and before they had finished chattering Anne had risen from the table. With a tight smile for the benefit of the twins, she announced she was going for a walk and would be back a little later. Davy had pleaded to be able to go as well. Marilla took the young boy's shoulders firmly, steering him back to the table. Anne nodded at Marilla, and walked out the door.

It was now nearing twilight, and Marilla jumped, seeing someone at last enter the gate. She walked down the stairs expecting Anne had returned, but was met by a tall young man, who walked with a confidence she remembered from many years past.

"Miss Cuthbert, good evening."

Gilbert Blythe looked past Marilla, expecting to see Anne fluttering around in the kitchen.

Marilla nodded politely, not quite able to keep her voice steady or her eyes from scanning the horizon. "Gilbert."

"Is Anne in? I was hoping she would accompany me to Moody Spurgeon's house. His parents are hosting an impromptu supper for the AVIS team."

"I don't know where she is." Marilla said, her voice shaking slightly.

Gilbert froze. "What do you mean? Where did she go?"

Marilla tried to control her voice. "She went for a walk after she got back from school today. I don't know what happened, but she didn't seem herself. And she's been gone for hours now. She should have been home by now."

Gilbert manufactured a smile and cheerful voice for the woman in front of him.

"I'm sure she just got lost in her daydreams again. I'll go find her and bring her home. I'll even scold her for you if you like."

Marilla gave a twisted smile. "You should be careful Gilbert. Anne has a tongue of her own, as you no doubt remember."

He laughed. "Don't I know it." He turned to go, but Marilla stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked back to see a look in her eyes that frightened him.

"I haven't seen her look that way since Matthew died. She needs to be at home, Gilbert."

He nodded at her, his look serious. Then he hastened down the lane.

Think, Blythe, think. Where would she go? Not the haunted wood at this hour, she won't go that way alone.

The way in front of him was getting dimmer by the moment, and Gilbert was concerned that he needed to choose a path. The moonlight was bright, however in the forest the pale rays had little effect in the growing dimness. Gilbert was growing anxious now, and tried to remember any particular place Anne had talked about recently. Lovers Lane, Idlewood….

He frowned. There was a place she had taken him to some months ago, around the far side of Barry's pond. A fallen tree had blocked a small gully, creating a hidden baby paradise in the summertime. Mossy stones lined the tiny gorge, and several small trees were growing wildly along the edge. He had waded through a small creek looking for tadpoles, catching them in jars to show his class the following day.

The summertime was long gone now, and he hurried along the edge of the wood. If she wasn't there he would have to keep searching. What could have possessed her to stay out so late? Even her forgetfulness wouldn't make her forget the cool autumn air. He shivered slightly as he neared the place, and looking into the gloom, he could see no movement.

"Anne!" he called now, looking for any sign of her presence. To his surprise, he heard a slight rustle. "Anne, if you're here you better have a good reason for being out so late."

"It's me."

His shoulders sagged, and he stepped gingerly over the log. Searching in the dimness, he saw a shape sitting against the larger of the trees, and walked over to her. To his surprise, she hadn't moved, hadn't jumped to her feet at being found- had barely reacted to his presence. As he would a hurt animal, he approached her cautiously.

"Anne, Marilla's worried about you; she said you should have been home hours ago. What on earth are you doing out here at night time?" Gilbert crouched down beside her. She jumped at the movement, and he was startled to see the look of fear cross her face.

"Hey, hey, it's just me here. It's just me. You aren't in trouble; I came to find you because we're worried about you." He put his hand on the stiff arm she had beside her, and couldn't help but be hurt at the way she flinched. He pulled back from her quickly.

"Look, I'm sorry if you want me to leave, but I can't leave you out here on your own. I'm not doing that to you or Marilla." He said abruptly. He watched her turn to look at him, her eyes looking hunted. Gilbert sighed. Here he was walking on eggshells before her again, once more unable to predict how this girl would react. Would this pattern never end?

"Please don't go." She whispered, brokenly.

Gilbert let out a breath slowly, his heart twisting. "I told you I won't leave you. Why don't I just walk you back home?"

"I can't." she said, in a voice that sounded like a sob.

"Anne, are you hurt? You need to tell me." When she made no reply Gilbert's hand went to the back of his head in frustration. He tried to keep his voice light. "I'm your friend, remember? Your very best enemy?"

At this, the tears that she had been repressing began to fall, and to Gilbert's horror, she put her head on her knees and began to sob. Feeling as if he was already in way too deep with no way to paddle, he acted on his instinct and pulled her over to him, and into his arms. Again he was surprised- she clung to his shirt tightly, in a way that even in their current situation his heart thrilled to.

Anne cried for long minutes. Not knowing what else to do he stroked her head and shoulders, murmuring words of comfort in the darkness. As she eventually stilled, he reluctantly pulled himself away from her to see her better.

"Let me take you home now, Anne." He pleaded softly.

"I don't know what to say to Marilla about why I left." She said, her voice shaking. "She doesn't know any of it, and it might make things worse. I just need to deal with it somehow." She pulled herself away, tucking her skirt in under her.

"Anne, you're talking in riddles again. Look, can you tell me what upset you so much?" he bent down to look her in the eyes. "I won't say anything to anyone, you know that. It looks like you need to tell someone something." He could see her hesitating, trying to form the words, and pressed her hand again. He watched her holding her body stiff, but suddenly her fingers gripped his tightly. Gilbert said nothing more, but looked at her questioning. When a short silence went by, he squeezed her fingers again, bringing her eyes to his.

"Anne. Tell me."

Anne gave a small sigh of surrender, and hesitantly began to speak.

"A new family started school today." She said, her voice quivering. "The Robertson's. They only just moved to Avonlea a week ago." Gilbert watched her, waiting expectantly. "There are three children coming to my class. Two boys and a girl with long plaits in her hair." She looked out into the darkness, seemingly forgetting that Gilbert was there. He nudged her gently in the arm.

"Their- their father came to pick them up. He walked into my classroom at the end of the day. He was- talking- and laughing- so loud. He spoke to the children angrily, telling them to go out to the wagon. And then I was at my desk and he was standing over me-" Her voice had become more irregular, and she didn't notice that Gilbert was gripping her hand so tightly that it hurt. "And then he left."

Gilbert blurted his anxious thoughts out- "He didn't yell at you? Hurt you?"

In the faint moonlight he saw her shake her head. "No. He just wanted to tell me that he wouldn't be coming to pick them up regularly, that if they wanted schooling they had to get there themselves. Then he left." She tried to repress a shudder.

"Why wouldn't Marilla understand that? It sounds like he scared you." Gilbert said. She shook her head again.

"No. I didn't understand it till I left the schoolhouse and saw them drive away- the girl with the braids. It was me." Anne laid her head on the trunk of the tree, her eyes closed and tears running freely now.

"It was me being yelled at. Me being told to help the others, that I had no right to read when I had jobs to do." Gilbert was trying to follow her thoughts. "It was me I saw- me when I was ten, only it was Mr Hammond standing over me-"she broke down again, her sobs overcoming her again.

Gilbert' heart broke for her, and he put his arm around her again. He sighed as she rested her head on his chest, and he rocked her gently in his arms. He wiped a tear of his own away, but the voice that came from his mouth was harsh-

"Tell me he didn't hurt you- tell me he didn't lay a hand on you Anne, or I swear-" He broke off abruptly, trying to restrain his escalating emotions.

Anne sighed. "No. He sometimes hit me, but then, he hit everyone." Her voice was wooden. "He was just big- and terrifying- and I hated the way he would look at me sometimes. It frightened me. I was relieved whenever he went away to find work."

The two of them sat in silence for a time, Gilbert trying to process all she had said.

"Marilla doesn't know any of this?" he said softly. "Does Diana?"

She shook her head against him. "Diana wouldn't be able to understand. And I only told Matthew and Marilla a small part- I just try and forget those ten years ever existed." He voice shook again. "But I had no warning this time."

Gilbert sighed. "Anne, Marilla needs to know."

"I'm seventeen, Gil. I'm an adult, a teacher. I can't fall apart at little things like this-" her voice shook, and Gilbert cut her off, his sharp words contrasted by his gentle hold.

"Anne, do you hear yourself? You are just seventeen. I know how strong and mature you are, and heaven forbid I should underestimate you, but seventeen doesn't mean you have to have all the answers. At seventeen you still need someone who can hold you and help you and be the adult for a time. I go to my dad all the time." He pulled away to look her in the eyes again. "Marilla is your guardian and she loves you- and you shouldn't try to deal with something like this on your own." He sighed. "I couldn't deal with it on my own. No one we know could survive this like you have. Just please- let us in."

Anne said nothing more for a time. Gilbert was terrified she would suddenly realise how much she had shared and run away from him; unconsciously he held himself waiting. As the minutes went by, he began to wonder if she had fallen asleep.

"Gil?" she said eventually.

"Yes?"

"I never told anyone that."

"I guessed that."

"Can I ask something?"

He rubbed her shoulder gently. "Okay."

"Can this stay a secret?"

Her pulled back, slightly puzzled. "Anne, of course."

"I mean, even from us."

Now seriously questioning his companion's sanity, he held her back to see her face better. "From us?" She sighed, and stood to her feet slowly. He stood as well, and drew closer to see her better.

"I have to hide a lot of my past from myself." She said softly. "I don't know any other way of handling this. I can't see it in your eyes that you remember this conversation; that you are pitying me, or trying to talk to me about it when I just can't. I need for us to forget it."

He looked at her helplessly. "I don't see how I can, Anne. You're my friend, and I- I care about you. How can I stay silent when you're hurting? Don't you trust me not to hurt you with it?"

She reached out to take his hand, and his heart seemed to stop momentarily. "I do trust you. I couldn't have told you if I didn't. But can you please hide it from me that you know?" she looked at him pleadingly.

Gilbert looked at her in the faint moonlight, this impossible girl who so bewildered and enchanted him.

"Alright. I'll try." He paused. "But Anne, if you need to talk, bring me back here at night and you can tell me anything you need to. You won't even be able to see me."

Anne sighed, and when he took her hand to leave, she went with him willingly. They walked silently for a time, but on the edge of the woods behind Green Gables, she stopped him.

"Thank you for coming after me." She said quietly.

"Any time." He couldn't resist trying to make her smile, and teased her. "So am I still your best enemy?"

Anne looked back at him and whispered seriously- "You're my best friend."

She reached up and hugged him, and he wrapped his arms around her small form tightly. He wondered when she would allow herself to be this vulnerable with him again, and as she let go of him he couldn't suppress a sigh. They walked through the gate of Green Gables, and Marilla came to stand in the doorway, her face trying to restrain her emotions. Gilbert walked her up to the stairs, and met Marilla's eyes with a nod.

"Do you want me to come in when you tell her?" he said to Anne quietly. She looked back at the older woman, and shook her head, her lips trembling. Gilbert reached one arm around her and hugged her, ignoring the stunned look on Marilla's face.

"Tell her just like you told me."

He stepped back, and turned to go. When he reached the gate he turned to look back, and saw Anne being held by the older woman, her head on Marilla's shoulder like a little girl.