Baker - G. BLYTHE

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-ˋˏ *.·:·. [AGE: 43] .·:·.* ˎˊ-.

"YOU KNOW WHAT SHE HAS, DON'T YOU BLYTHE?" A red-headed doctor friend of Gilbert's sighed as they both stepped out onto the porch in front of the Blythe residence. Gilbert's shoulders sunk even further down, his body fighting the urge to yell and smash whatever he could get his hands on. He knew. Of course, he knew. The best Doctor around, as quoted by many people and his old professors, obviously knew what allied his wife. It was obvious. He just couldn't bear to believe it. He couldn't even bear to think.

He sniffed, trying to compose himself. "I didn't want to believe it," he spoke, his voice thick with tears. Everyone around him died, it was a sick fate that no one (especially the kind soul that Gilbert was) deserved. He deserved a world of loving, kindness with metaphorical and physical flowers weaved between every moment. Instead, he was stuck with darkness. The darkness became a recognised visitor, who knew the house like the back of its hand.

The redhead placed a hand on his friend's shoulder but nothing could soften the blow of her diagnosis. It broke them to see her soul sick and about ready to travel to the world beyond this one. Gilbert didn't know how he would cope. He softened his voice, "It's pneumonia and a bad case at that, I'm terribly sorry."

Gilbert sniffed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. The one that bore his wedding ring. He stared out to the cold and bare lands, spring was just around the corner. His voice wavered and tucked itself away but he had to force it out again, "How long, do you think?"

The doctor deliberated for a minute, the silence flipping his stomach even more. "A few weeks, maybe a month?" he replied, keeping that same bad news delivering tone. Gilbert fixed his gaze on the horizon, just watching the wind move the grass as the tears flooded down his cheeks. Death was not a friend to anyone, especially this family. "Call for me if you need anything at all."

"Thank you," Gilbert replied, struggling to even find those words. He watched his friend walk away as his mind swam with deprecating thoughts. He dropped to the ground, sitting on the step with his head in his hands. A storm brewed in his heart, one that started the process of breaking apart the pieces that she had healed. He sobbed. He sobbed like a child who didn't know any other way to express their feelings. Being strong for her was far from his mind. All the happy memories flooded through his mind and it made the stabbing even worse.

"What's got you in a twist," Bash, who had just walked up the path, asked with a joking tone to his voice as he sat down next to Gilbert. Bash's smile flattened when he heard a sob escape."Blythe?" he asked, putting a hand on his back. Gilbert looked up, his face streaky red and puffy from the tears. His eyes glazed over and Bash immediately knew what had happened. Everyone knew that Charlotte was sick, they just didn't know how bad it really was. They didn't know about her coughing, how it wracked her body, stripped her of all energy and came up bloody. "Oh," he sighed deeply, understanding everything completely. He just sat there, comforting a crying Gilbert as he waited for him to get to a point where he could pull himself together. A pause of silence came, Gilbert had no tears left. It stung his eyes.

"Listen, I know how horrible this is Blythe. But I'm going to give you your own advice, you need to be there for her. You can worry about yourself later, she's who this is happening to. Your world should revolve around hers, until the end."

Gilbert looked up, his eyes still glassy and brow furrowed. "It always has."

Charlotte Blythe's coughs echoed in their ears.

Gilbert immediately stood and went to the kitchen, washing his face of any signs of tears. He pulled himself together, the best that he could and smiled at his children as Bash took them to stay with his Mother-in-law. He didn't want them to be anywhere near this, especially since it was contagious. He put on a fake, emotionless face and walked into their bedroom. His heart broke at her unsuspecting smile, red-tinged lips and the sight of her looking cosy in one of his jumpers. She had just had a cold flash, shivers and all but now her cheeks were rosy - brow almost sweaty. Her smile fell once she read his expressionless face, all the emotion being held in his eyes. Eyes that were puffy and glazed over. She cleared her throat, "Is it contagious?" Her voice came out hoarse, aching with every word. She searched his eyes once again, looking for the answer that had her pinching her finger. He didn't say anything, knowing that she would kick him out if she did. Screw safety. Charlotte didn't have the same thoughts. She recoiled as if trying to get as far away from him as possible. She tried to keep her voice steady, not showing the disappointment and fear that boiled in her infected lungs. She tried to exclaim but it came out as more of a whisper, "Gilbert Blythe gets out of this room right now."