Felicity was sitting in the kitchen, so still that at first Gus thought it was just her dress thrown over the back of the chair. The shape was all wrong, though, and when he stopped in the doorway, he could hear her breaths: short gasps for air, as if she had been running - or crying.

"Felicity?" he asked. "Is everything all right?"

She sighed deeply and replied, "I'm fine. It's Everett James... He's been killed overseas."

"Oh." He frowned. He had known Everett James, of course. Everett had once been a tall, gangly boy with buck teeth and freckles, and a part of Gus's mind still saw him that way, even though the adult Everett had been even taller, with a booming bass voice.

Still, Everett hadn't been what you'd call a friend just someone they talked to once in a while. There was no reason for Felicity to be so upset.

"Sorry to hear it," he said, "but why..." Why do you care? That was a terrible thing to say, and he shut his mouth to make sure the words didn't come out.

There was a sudden vehemence in her voice when she said, "This war isn't ever going to end! 'It'll all be over soon,' they said, but the months just keep piling up!"

"That's true," he said, still not sure why Everett's death caused such a reaction from her.

"And for what?" She rose from the chair and started to pace through the room. "What's the purpose of it all? For all the little soldier boys to play with their new toys?"

If his own thoughts had been inappropriate, this was just plain wrong. "They're dying for their country. Try to show some respect."

"Oh, listen to you!" she snapped. "I bet if you could, you'd be heading off right along with them, waving a gun."

That stung. "Of course I would."

She made an inarticulate, angry noise.

"What did you think?" he continued. "That I'm happy to stay behind like a coward? You don't think I'm wrecking my brain, trying to think of something I can do to help our country, some work that I might be able to handle?"

"Well, you can stop thinking right now, because I'm not going to let you."

'Let'? What was she, his mother? He set his jaw. "You couldn't stop me."

When she spoke again, her voice was no longer angry - it was cold and hard. "I swear to God, Gus Pike, if you stood here fit as a fiddle and told me you wanted to enlist, I'd claw those eyes of yours right out of your skull to keep you from it."

For a moment, his mind stood still. When the thoughts started swirling again, he could barely breathe. She hadn't just said...

But she had, and he had no reply; he just knew he had to get out of there right away, because he had never felt such a strong urge to hit Felicity in his entire life.

He turned on the spot and marched out of the kitchen. Only when he reached the front door did he stop for a second to get his cane. He could move around fine without it these days, but in this mood, the last thing he wanted was to mind his surroundings.

He walked on with no particular goal, but somehow he ended up by the King farm and sat down on the ground outside the barn, wondering what had prompted him to take that particular road. The last thing he wanted right now was a nice dinner with the in-laws.

"Gus?"

Cue in-laws. At least it was Alec - he didn't think he could have coped with Janet.

"Yeah." And then, because his presence seemed to need some kind of explanation, he added, "Felicity and I had a fight."

Alec sat down next to him and after a pause asked, "About what?"

Gus shrugged. "The war, I guess. My eyes. Everett James."

"Oh," Alec said like that all made sense.

"She said..." Gus started, but he found he couldn't repeat it. The mere thought left a foul taste in his mouth. "It's like she's glad I can barely see."

"I don't think that's true," Alec said. "Grateful, maybe, that you're not coming home in a body bag."

"At least then I'd have some honour."

They both sat quiet for a while, and Gus expected Alec to give him some meaningless comforting phrases about how it wasn't his fault, how it wasn't dishonourable if you couldn't do something.

Make your pick. Coward or cripple.

Instead, when Alec spoke again what he said was, "War is... different for women. You and I, we think about where we would be if I were younger and you were sighted. We'd both be out there fighting, but Felicity - or Janet, for that matter - never had that option. Sure, women can be nurses, or drive ambulances, or work in factories, but they're always one step removed from battle. They'll patch up the already wounded, but they can't face the enemy or prevent a single bullet from being fired. And that's all they know - being left behind."

Gus thought about that. He tried to imagine Felicity in a trench, holding a rifle, and failed.

"Janet and I both want to keep Felix safe," Alec continued. "The difference is that I want to go there and do it; she wants him to come home."

A few more pieces clicked into place. "You think that's it? She misses Felix?"

"I would be very surprised if that wasn't at least part of it."

Gus picked his cane from the ground and rose to his feet. "Thanks. You've been really helpful."

Alec stood up too and chuckled a little. "I think there are quite a few couples in Avonlea who are having that fight right now. No reason we should all make the same mistakes."

When Gus returned to the house, Felicity was sitting in the swing telling a story to one of the children. He couldn't tell which child, but judging by the size, he would guess Duffy.

"'I could never harm you,' he told the cat. 'You have grown so dear to me.' The cat insisted, 'If you love me, you have to cut off my head."

Felicity's voice died away, and he knew she had seen him.

"Duffy," she said, "I think we should finish the story later."

The boy protested: "I want to know what happened to the cat."

"Go on," Gus said. "You can't stop now, it's cruel to the boy."

And so Felicity told Duffy about how the prince cut off the cat's head, and she was turned into a beautiful princess. Gus, who had heard the story before, thought she rather rushed the ending, but he supposed that was to be expected.

Once she had finished, Duffy went back inside without any further prompting, and it was just the two of them.

Gus spread his hands out. "I was an ass."

"So was I," she said, standing up so quickly he expected her to keel over. "Oh, iGus/i! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it."

She stepped up to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

"Sometimes I dream you're dead," she murmured into his neck, "and then I wake up to find you there beside me. I feel so lucky, and then I feel guilty for feeling lucky, because who am I to be allowed to keep you when so many..."

"I'm sorry," he said, and the apology was both for the fight and for those long months of suffering he had caused her. Felicity was so strong, he forgot how hard she could take things. "I wasn't thinking. Not of that, not of Felix..."

"Losing Felix would be awful," she said. "If I lost him, and you weren't there when I woke up in the middle of the night... it would be so much worse. I don't know that I could do it again."

He lifted her chin up and kissed her, feeling the tears on her face. He was near crying himself, and all he could think of to say was 'I love you' over and over again, and then nothing at all because her mouth was keeping his busy.

Much later, they broke up the kiss.

"So," she said, her voice dry and practical.

"Yeah," he replied.

"I think they're watching from the window."

"Figures they would be."

"We should go back inside."

"We should," he agreed, but it was still a while before they let go of each other. She slipped her hand into the curve of his arm and they slowly walked towards the house.
Right outside the front door, she stopped. "Gus?"

"Yeah?" She sounded so hesitant that he got worried.

"You know Morse code, right?"

"Sure." What did that have to do with anything?

"You could always try your hand at telegraphy."

While he was still dumbfounded from that idea, she let go of his arm and reached for the door.

"Hey!" he said, catching her hand before she could step inside. He spun her around and embraced her once again.

There were some giggles coming from inside the open door.

"The kids," she reminded him.

"Mm," he replied. "Let them enjoy themselves."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written for the 2005 Yuletide challenge. The title of the story is taken from Vienna Teng's "Lullabye for a Stormy Night."