Author's Note: I got this request, and you all know I love myself some angsty fluff, so here we are! Hope you enjoy it!

If you have any requests, feel free to send it to me via PM or on my Tumblr (LizzySong).

Until the next fic!

-Lizzy

"Jerry?" Anne called as she entered the barn. "I brought you something from Aunt Jo," she continued as she climbed up the ladder to where she could usually find the boy working or, even better in her opinion, practicing his reading. "I told her about our lessons and she wanted you to have this. It's a dictionary. When you get a little farther in your studies you'll be able to look up any word and find its meaning and proper spelling!"

She'd held out the book to him the moment she'd reached the landing and he took it with a grateful smile. "It's so big."

"It has all the words you could ever hope to know; it has to be big!"

The boy laughed slightly, "Merci. Will you tell Miss Barry I appreciate it?"

"You can tell her yourself — I'll bring you with me next time!"

Jerry shook his head in disbelief with an amused smile — he had so many sisters, yet Anne was the person who treated him most like family. "Where were you? It's nearly dark. Are you late because you were visiting him?"

"Because I was visiting Cole and Aunt Josephine? No, the train was late and then making it back here took such a long time — Gilbert was supposed to meet me at the station but I suppose he forgot..."

"So you weren't visiting Gilbert?"

"Of course not. I only just made it here, and Gilbert forgot about me, which I intend to scold him for when I see him at school tomorrow."

"You don't know?"

"...Know what?" She felt a pit drop into her stomach; was something wrong with Gilbert? Is that why he hadn't come to fetch her?

"He's been ill, almost a week I think. Everybody's talking about it; Mrs. Lynde especially. She says she doesn't think he'll live through it."

It felt as though the pit that had lodged itself in her stomach had suddenly grown ten times larger and started to sprout vines that grew around her heart, constricting her breathing.

"Mrs. Lynde is a hateful gossip and she doesn't know Gilbert Blythe half as well as I do! He's going to be fine!" She practically screamed before climbing down the ladder and running out of the barn.

It couldn't be true, she thought as she ran through the haunted woods to the home Gilbert, Bash and Mary shared. Gilbert Blythe couldn't be dying.

She reached the house and pounded her fist on the door until Mary opened it, her expression becoming one of relief when she realized who had been so aggressively demanding entry.

"Anne," she said with a small smile, which the girl did not return.

"Is it true?" Anne asked, doing her best to keep her voice steady, though the tears that had sprung to here eyes made her air of calm much less convincing.

"...Why don't you come in?" said Mary, avoiding the girl's question as she lead her to the kitchen table.

"Do you want some tea? I just finished making it."

Anne nodded, "Thank you."

She felt numb; Mary was usually very straight forward, and the fact that she'd avoided the question of Gilbert's health was alarming.

"...I don't understand it," she said when Mary joined her at the table, "When he took me to the station last week he seemed just fine — happy even." Her lip quivered slightly and the woman placed a reassuring hand on top of Anne's.

"It hit him fast. One day he was fine, and then he wasn't..." she trailed off, trying to keep herself composed. Mary hadn't expected to care this deeply for the boy, but he'd become like a second son to her now, and the thought of losing him hurt as much as the thought of losing Elijah.

"...Can I see him?" Anne asked after a few long moments of quiet.

Mary nodded and stood up. "Of course you can," she said as she led Anne to the boy's room, "He's been asking about you."

They reached Gilbert's room quickly and Mary opened the door while the girl walked slowly, as if in a trance, to the boy's side.

She noted how ill he looked — the paleness of his features, the flush of fever in his cheeks, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and the shallow rise and fall of chest — and thought that for once perhaps Mrs Lynde hadn't been exaggerating.

She hadn't noticed that Bash was sitting in a chair near the bed until he stood up and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He'll be happy to see you when he wakes up."

"...Will he be alright?" She asked, finding herself unable to move her gaze from the boy.

"Of course he will; especially now he's got you by his side," Bash said, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat before making his way over to Mary, who was still standing in the doorway.

The two spoke for a short time, though Anne didn't pay attention to what they were saying, her focus now solely on Gilbert.

Mary and Sebastian's voices faded eventually and Anne realized that she was alone with Gilbert and took his hand in both of hers as she sat on the edge of his bed. "...I thought doctors weren't supposed to get sick," she said with a slight, tearful laugh. Had he been awake she knew he would've responded with that smirk of his, saying something like "Well I'm not a doctor yet, am I?"

She wished he would give her one of those annoying quips now; or one of those knowing smiles that annoyed her to no end — anything to show her he was okay. Instead he just lie there, unmoving, a small frown of discomfort on his lips.

She sighed and looked around the room for anything that could help him and noticed a bowl of water sitting on the nightstand with a cloth draped over the side of it. She went over to the nightstand and dampened the cloth before gently placing it on Gilbert's forehead and sitting in the chair next to the bed, prepared to stay at his side until he was well — refusing to think of the alternative to him recovering.

Anne was awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of quiet, distressed mumbling from the bed, though she was only able make out a couple words, including "dad," "scared" and "dying."

She stood up from her chair and moved to sit beside him on the bed, running gentle fingers through his thick hair and noticing how much his fever had risen since she had first arrived.

"Shh..." she said softly, "everything's alright."

The boy groaned and slowly opened his eyes, looking up at her through a haze of fevered confusion. "...Anne...?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

He wasn't sure he could trust his own perception — the past week all he'd wanted was to see Anne, but every time he'd asked for her Bash or Mary had reminded him that she was in Charlottetown. Maybe she still was and his fever had just gotten so bad that he'd started hallucinating.

"I came as soon as I found out you were ill," Anne said and took one of his hands. "...How are you feeling? I know that's probably a ridiculous question, because it's obvious you're not feeling well, but if you're feeling worse—"

He smiled as he watched her speak, although he didn't want to answer her question. The answer would only make her worry more than she clearly already was.

Every muscle in his body ached, and his rib cage hurt from frequent bouts of coughing; not to mention the fever that had been ravaging his body for the past several days.

He wanted to tell her that he was fine, that he'd had worse and he'd surely be better in a few more days, but instead he felt his eyes fill with tears. He looked away from her as he whimpered, "Everything just hurts so much..."

Anne was sure she could feel her heart breaking in two as she saw the boy, who she was sure she had never seen cry before, dissolving into tears.

"Oh Gil," she said as she knelt at the side of the bed so that she could be face to face with him. She pulled him into a gentle hug and he buried his face into her shoulder.

"I just want it to stop..." he said in a soft, broken voice. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he control his emotions? He needed to stop, he was scaring Anne. ...But it felt so good to finally cry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. "Please... make it stop..."

"I'm gonna make you better," Anne whispered comfortingly, using the voice she had used so many times in the past when taking care of sick children, "You're going to be just fine."

"Now," she said as the two separated and Gilbert was lying back on his pillows, "Try and get some sleep, alright? One of the most affective ways of fighting illness is rest."

"I've been in this bed for a week now," the boy said ruefully, "I don't think resting is doing me any good. ...I hate this, Anne. I don't want to be an invalid. I don't... I don't want to end up like my father."

He was frustrated and exhausted and afraid, and Anne understood completely. His climbing fever certainly wasn't helping matters, either. "You will not end up an invalid, Gilbert," she said as she leaned down and gently pressed her lips against his burning forehead, "I promise you that."

She went to his side table and took the cloth out of the bowl of cool water again, wringing it out and going back over to him before placing it on his forehead. His eyes were closed and it seemed as though he might already be back asleep, but he let out a soft sigh of relief as soon as the cool cloth touch his skin.

Anne frowned and lightly brushed her fingers across his cheek. The cloth on his forehead alone wouldn't be enough to bring down his fever but maybe with a few more strategically placed ones...

"I'll be back," she said and began to walk towards the door, but stopped with her hand on the doorknob when Gilbert spoke, so softly that she almost didn't hear him.

"Wait..." he said, "just... stay a little longer. Please."

"I'm just getting something to help bring your fever down," Anne said reassuringly, "I'll be right back — I promise."

Gilbert hesitated for a moment longer before nodding his consent. He heard the door open and then shut, meaning that he was alone. He stared at the ceiling through half open eyes, watching the dim light flicker from the lamp on his nightstand.

He was too uncomfortable to fall asleep and too exhausted to do anything else — he'd been in this state of discomfort and boredom for days and he hated every moment of it. He hated not being able to care for himself, hated not having the energy to even sit up in bed and read, hated feeling like an inconvenience to everyone around him...

What if this illness left him like this permanently? He was sure nothing could be worse than that. He needed to recover — he would recover.

A sudden coughing fit brought him out of his thoughts as he tried, and failed, to sit up, leaving him gasping for breath in a half sitting, half laying position that did absolutely nothing to help him breathe better. Anne returned just then, rushing to his side and helping him sit up.

"Shh..." she said as she gently patted his back, "Just breathe. You'll be alright." He managed to catch his breath after a few moments and Anne handed him a glass of water which he realized she must have brought with the rags she was holding in her other hand.

Once he'd finished drinking he handed the glass back to her, and she placed it on the nightstand before dampening the cloths she'd brought.

She turned back to face him and found him already lying down, awake but clearly exhausted as he watched her with curiosity. "...What're those for?" he asked. He knew that he probably should know what she was planning to do, he was studying to become a doctor after all, but he just couldn't manage to think through the haze of illness he was in.

"We have to get your fever down. One of these on your forehead, one on the back of your neck, and one on each wrist should do it. I've done the same for every child I've been charged with caring for whenever they got ill, and it hasn't failed me yet. Of course, you aren't a child, but I expect it should work the same for any fever, regardless of age. ...May I?" She asked as she sat on the side of the bed, holding out one of the cloths. He nodded his consent, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite his discomfort and the fact that he wasn't entirely coherent, he found himself enjoying Anne's presence.

The coolness of the damp cloths came as a relief when they came in contact with his burning skin, and Anne gave a nod of approval before sitting down in the chair next to the bed again.

Now that she had done what she could about his fever, she thought she should take his mind off of his discomfort. So she settled on following up on a conversation they'd had when he had taken her to the train station days earlier.

"...I finally finished that chapter I was having trouble with. Cole helped me with it — artists can be very helpful with such things. ...I was hoping you would read it now that it's finished so I could get your opinion on it. I know you can't right now but I just wanted to tell you because—"

"—Read it to me?"

"...Really?" She was taken by surprise.

Gilbert nodded slightly in response, "I haven't been able to leave this bed for a week, Anne. I could use some of your imagination right now."

"Well, I don't have my book with me now, but I think I can recite it from memory. ...If you really want to hear it."

He nodded slightly again, "I do."

Anne took a breath and began to recite the new part of her story. She had recited nearly half of it, proud that she could do so from memory, before she noticed that Gilbert was finally asleep. He looked relatively comfortable and she smiled a little as she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall asleep as well.

When she woke up it was late into the morning. It took a moment to remember where she was, and when she did her gaze immediately fell on Gilbert. He was peacefully asleep, quiet and still, and for just a moment she felt her heart drop into her stomach out of fear before she saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Anne moved from her chair to the edge of the bed and carefully placed her hand on the boy's forehead, relief washing over her as she realized that his fever had broken.

He hummed softly, blinking open his eyes and gazing up at the girl with a faint, tired smile.

Anne returned the smile and spoke softly, "You're going to be alright."

He nodded slightly in response and she took his hand gently in her own, tears suddenly filling her eyes. "I was so scared, Gil."

"...I'm sorry..." he said, "about last night, when I... well... I know I frightened you. I was just so scared myself and—"

Anne cut him off when she suddenly leaned forward and kissed him. It only lasted a moment before she pulled back, turning bright red as her eyes widened in surprise. She couldn't have just kissed Gilbert Blythe. Not like this — however romantical the situation might be. This was worse than when she'd hit him with her slate.

Gilbert was staring at her in surprise, a slightly embarrassed smile on his lips. "...Anne, I—"

"—I'm sorry. I-I should... go. Marilla must be in a state— I didn't tell her I'd be here and I'm sure she'll be worried; furious too, I shouldn't doubt. I'll come back as soon as I'm able!" She had stumbled through the room as she spoke, knocking into both the chair and the nightstand before dashing down the hallway, running into Bash, who on his way to Gilbert's room, as she did.

"You must be feeling better," Sebastian said with an amused smile as he entered the boy's room.

"What do you mean?"

"That girl comes running out of your room like that it can only mean one thing."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help but smile as he thought about Anne's kiss.

"Did you tell her?"

"She... kissed me."

Bash laughed a little, partly out of amusement, partly out of relief that the boy who had become his family would be alright.

Anne took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering the courage she needed to face Gilbert Blythe again. It had been three days since... the incident, and she wanted to set things straight with him before he came back to school. And she didn't want their friendship to suffer because she did something she didn't mean. ...At least, she didn't think she meant it...

Finally she walked up to the front door and knocked. It opened almost immediately to reveal the boy she both desperately wanted to see, and couldn't bare to face.

"Anne," he said with a slightly surprised smile.

"You're looking better," Anne said, returning the smile.

"Well considering how bad off I was, I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is, but thank you," Gilbert said with a small laugh. "Would you like to come in?" he asked after a couple moments of awkward silence, opening the door wider, "...I could use the company."

She nodded and entered the home, allowing him to lead her to the kitchen. "Hasn't anyone come to see you?" she asked, an edge of concern in her voice.

He shook his head and sat down at the kitchen table, which was covered in books and papers. "No. —Well, except for Mrs. Lynde. ...She seemed disappointed that I wasn't on my deathbed."

Anne couldn't help but laugh at that as she sat down, "Well I'm happy that you're recovering."

"So am I," he said with a small nod. It was easy, now that he was on the mend, to act as though he hadn't been terrified that he would die only a few days earlier. Anne could see through his casual demeanor, though, and placed her hand on top of his.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment, sharing a small smile, before Anne quickly pulled back.

"—Gilbert, about the other day... when I... It didn't mean... that. I was just so relieved, and I— it was purely in friendship. Because I care about you so much — as a friend. It wasn't romantical in the least."

"Of course it wasn't," he said, a knowing look in his eyes.

"No, Gil, it really wasn't."

"Of course not. It was pure emotion. You would have done the same to anyone you'd been worried about."

"Precisely."

"...You didn't have to stay away for three days because of that, you know."

"Wha— no that's not why I didn't come by sooner. I was needed at Green Gables."

"Ah." He nodded and gave her a smile, "Well I'm glad you're here now."

"So am I," Anne said, returning the smile, though she was clearly feeling shy.

Gilbert decided he should change the subject, seeing that Anne still felt awkward about her... enthusiastic demonstration of affection, and he didn't want her to be uncomfortable. He didn't want her to avoid him again.

"...I could use your help catching up — if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. When I beat you it needs to be fair and square, remember?" She sighed internally in relief; they needed to stop talking about what had happened before she did or said something else that would force her to avoid Gilbert again. She hated avoiding him. But it took courage to face him every time she did something embarrassing. ...Like kissing him. Even though he never made a scene about it.

He laughed lightly — a sound Anne had been afraid she'd never hear again — and nodded, "Fair and square. I remember."

Neither said another word about the kiss, still not quite ready to admit the depth of their feelings for each other and choosing instead to just enjoy each other's company for the time being.

Eventually they would have to acknowledge their feelings, of course, but for now they were just happy to be together.