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He was sitting on the couch when it started, elbows on knees and head in his hands. Next to him she tenses and curls into herself, red hair hanging over her shoulders and shuttering her expression from him. It’s another wall that’s gone up. Another chasm of space opening wider, yawning until it swallowed them both.
“Anne, please talk to me,” he whispers, tilting his head towards her, pressing outward with his words, exploring the field of landmines between them with a step too tentative, too light.
Her silence presses back on him and Gilbert rubs at his temples, his jaw, chafing at his skin because it feels too tight on his bones. Like it was bound to snap if his restlessness didn’t settle. They needed to talk about this. He couldn’t just let it grow, this silence, that was ravaging them both.
They’d been home from the hospital for a day.
Had been weighted with the knowledge of their loss for nearly two.
“I want to know what’s going through your head. I want to know how I can help you,” he urges breathlessly, like the words were stealing everything he had inside of him left to give. When he reaches out, his fingers extending through to air towards her knee, she stiffens and recoils further into herself, out of his reach. His hand drops and he sighs, trying not to curse. “You haven’t said anything to me since - “
“I don’t want you here right now,” she croaks and her voice is rough and gravelly, torn from her chest.
“Anne - “ He turns at her words and shifts to reach her, his hand extending again and being slapped out of the air. The contact doesn’t hurt but the rejection of it, the violence in that brief moment, makes him freeze in place.
She looks up through her veil of hair and slaps his hand again, pushes it back from her space until it’s securely at his side. But it’s not enough and she leans forward and shoves at his shoulder, presses her foot into his thigh as a small whining growl escapes from between her lips.
“Leave me alone!” She bites out, words strengthening.
“Stop, Anne - “ Gilbert attempts, clasping her wrist and holding her hands at bay. She clenches her fingers into fists and she pulls free of his gentle grip, instead lashing out with her hands and punching at his shoulder, his side, her feet digging into his thigh. The contact isn’t painful but it’s enough to have him shifting to his feet, away from her onslaught with a concerned gaze. She doesn’t look up at him, doesn’t meet his gaze with her own, her face turned towards her lap. “Please talk - “
“Go away!” She screams, the sound bursting from her and causing him to startle back a step. This time she looks up and sees his confusion, his pain resonating back on her and she can’t take it - she can’t see the pity and the pain and the worry that he can barely hide. It’s too much and she lunges to her feet, pushing at his shoulders to knock him back.
They both know the impact doesn’t hurt - it isn’t intended too - but it’s enough to force him back and away, his hands coming up between them, palms up and gentling.
“I can’t - “ she garbles, rubbing at her face until the skin is red and her tears are blended into her cheeks. “I can’t look at you. I can’t deal with you right now. Get out,” she orders, pointing to the door.
“I’m not - “
“Get out ,” she snarls and Gilbert stands his ground, frame frozen to the spot as she curses under her breath and pushes at his shoulder again. He lets her have the advanced ground, retreats back a step because he can give her this. He can give her the space but he can’t leave. He can’t .
She twists away when she realizes he isn’t moving and her knee knocks into the couch, the pain of it riddling up her leg and into her hip as she cries out, bending forward. Gilbert is there at her back, his hand on her spine and his worried words on his lips and she can’t. She can’t .
The slap comes hard and stinging against his cheek, her palm singing with the contact as he stumbles back again. There’s shock in his expression, his mouth agape and his brow furrowed, as he looks down into her stunned features. His fingers reach up and ghost over his skin, the red flush blossoming where once a book had hit him just as squarely all those years ago.
“Anne,” he breathes, too confused to do much more than stare back at her wild eyes. She grits her teeth and hardens her resolve, unblinking as she looks towards the front door where she’s ordered him to go. He waits a beat, and then another, before he exhales a shaky breath and turns on his heel.
Inside his heart is hammering, his mind screaming not to do it, not to leave her here like this.
They’d done this together.
They’d both lost the child.
But it had been her body that had suffered, that had cramped and bled, that had woken them up in the dead of night and sent them rushing to the hospital.
They were both grieving something they’d barely come to terms with, the reality of their loss still secretive and so very fresh.
He stands at the door, shoes slipped on, palm resting against the cool metal knob. He takes a breath and leans his forehead against the heavy wood, his whole body refusing to comply with her demand.
He couldn’t do it.
Turning again, he looks back at her with reddened eyes, his chest and throat tight with unshed tears.
“I’m not leaving you,” he says quietly, his hand slipping from the knob and back down to his side.
“I can’t look at you right now. I don’t want you - “
He steps forward and before she has a chance to raise her defenses again, he wraps his arms around her and gathers her close to his chest. His forehead tucks into her temple and his hands press to her shoulder, her hip, holding her tightly and refusing to give her any space to push him away. She doesn’t resist, barely even breathes, as he holds onto her for dear life.
The silence closes in and Gilbert leans into it, wrapping himself around her until there’s no space, no threat left between them as the minutes pass. He breathes in. Breathes out. Waits for her to soften, for her shoulders to relax. For her hands, small and clenched, to lift up and flatten out against his sides.
Her palms against his hips are enough and he tightens his grip, shifting to press a kiss to her temple and then to one cheek and then the other. Her tears are salty on his lips and it’s then that he feels the pain break from his own internal cage, his tears dripping from his eyelashes, his body holding on to her as he falls apart around her.
He hadn’t recognized his own feelings all this time. Not when they’d woken up in a panic, when he’d seen her blood on their sheets. Not when they’d been rushed through the ER in Charlottetown, nor when the doctors had confirmed the news. A miscarriage. A baby that hadn’t yet been real, that had only been a plus sign on a home pregnancy test, the doctor’s appointment to confirm still a few days away. It had been so new that he’d barely realized that he’d wanted it, that they both had already fallen so in love with the idea that they didn’t know how to process the loss that was both real and not real all at once. He’d been hiding behind Doctor Blythe, speaking in hushed tones about the tests, the treatments, while Anne faced this without his hand in hers.
He would never do this to her again. Would never leave her to face this on her own, without his fingers linked with hers.
“I'm sorry I hit you. I'm so sorry. Please don’t leave me,” Anne sobs into his chest, tears coming now like a storm. “I didn’t mean to cause this - “
“No, love, no,” he murmurs in return, kissing her forehead, her lips, holding her like she was keeping him afloat. “Never. I’ll never leave you. This is not your fault. This is not - you didn’t - it just happened. It happens - “
“I was so scared and I wished - “
“A wish doesn’t cause this,” he urges softly, his thumbs running along her chin and tilting her face up so he can meet her eyes. “We’re in this together and we will weather this together. I will never leave you.”
“What if I can’t do it? What if my body fails again? You want children so much, Gil, and if I can’t - “
“I want you , Anne. I don’t care if we have a thousand children, or none. I would be nothing without you in my life. If we can’t have children then we’ll adopt, or we won’t. It doesn’t matter because as long as you’re by my side I know we’ll be alright - “
“But what if I can’t be enough?” Her voice cracks and she ducks her head, closing her eyes and twisting her head away. He shakes his head and presses his forehead against hers, his palms gentle as they cup her chin.
“You are so much more than I ever hoped I could have,” he replies, closing his eyes. “I only want you. For always.”
They stand in the entryway until they sink to the floor, wrapping themselves around each other. Fingers brush away tears, breaths mingle, and they try to repair their hearts from the loss. When the darkness has fully crept in around them they return to their feet and climb the stairs to their bedroom where they crawl onto the mattress, fully clothed, and tangle themselves up together once more.
When they wake in the morning light, it’s to tentative smiles, soft brushes of fingers on skin. It’s to the idea of trying again another day, of their bond deeper than the day before.