A/N: I just got back into the Anne of Green Gables series. Departure from what I normally write, but I hope you like it.

Ch 1

Anne awoke to crying. At first she thought it was Dominic, but it was too deep for the child. There was only one other person it could be. Turning to face her husband, she wondered what in the world was wrong. "Gil" she whispered, touching his face, but he was oblivious, still crying out. "NO!! WHY!!!." Anne heart broke, as she realized that this was another one of Gilbert's nightmares. She didn't understand them, and Gilbert never talked about it. They didn't happen all the time, only sometimes, but when they did happen, they frightened Anne exceedingly. She shook Gil a little, hoping this would do the trick, yet still he cried on. It was less loud, but it continued nevertheless. She combed his hair with one hand, and started kissing him, whispering in between kisses, his name.

He opened his eyes slowly, a look of confusion on his face. "Anne?" She nodded, caressing his face. There were tears starting to track down her face, and Gilbert reached to wipe one away. "Anne, what is it?"

"I was just about you ask you the same thing, Mr. Blythe."

Gil started and then wrapped an arm around her. "I guess that the nightmare came I was having was said out loud." Anne nodded.

"Gil, please tell me about them."

"I've said that they're nothing." Anne propped herself on an elbow and looked pointedly at Gilbert. He sighed, knowing that she had won this one. He turned to face her, a look of distress on his face. "It was in the POW camp. And as you know, I was forced to help the enemy." Anne nodded, "I worked in the hospital for many months, doing what I could. Some I treated, others died, from wounds that are too vile to even mention. One day, that started out like any other day, I once again got a patient. I went over, ready to attempt to treat him, but I stopped short. He was no more than a boy Anne! No more than a boy!" Anne grasped Gilbert's hand. "His wounds were sever, bullets in every limb... every where. It was horrifying. He was coherent enough to tell me his name. James Austerlitz. He gave me something to give to his family. And then he died. He was so young!! He had so much to live for, one of the letters he gave me to deliver was one to his sweet heart." He paused. "It reminded me of you, how much I wished to write to you, to let you know that I was alright. So that you wouldn't have to suffer what that child's sweetheart had to go through."

Anne threw her arms around Gil's neck and buried her head in his chest. " I am lucky. So lucky that God kept you safe. It's not your fault that the boy died, it's the war. And he was lucky that you were there, so that he didn't die alone."

"Sometimes it doesn't feel like I did any good." Gil murmured into Anne's hair.

"You did plenty good, Dr. Blythe. Don't you forget it." Gil fought against the urge to shut his eyes, but it did not escape Anne. "Go to sleep dearest. I'll be here when you wake up." A moment later, he was out. Anne looked up at the sky. "God, thank you for bringing Gil back home safe, and for Dominic. Please watch over that young boy's sweetheart, for she did not get to experience what you have afforded me. Amen" She thought.

A/N: My Grandpa fought in WWII, but the horrors are the same no matter what war. I had always thought about post-war syndrome with Gil, so this is what became of that idea. I hope you liked it, and please review.