Firstwinter, 1870

Raymond panics. Is he dead? There is nothing but white outside the window, a merry tune in the air, and he is certain that the girl giving him the biggest smile he has ever seen is not Anne. But... gaunt cheeks, bright eyes? And the way she seems ready to drag him out of bed? He knows better. If anyone were to lead him out of that mist that shrouded his dreams, it would be her. Always her.

"The first snow arrived right after your fever broke. You woke up for one minute to smile at me, but then you fell back asleep. At least we saw it together, but, oh..." Her eyes begin to tear up. "The only miracle here is that you're okay. I didn't know if you would ever wake up, but you did, and you're still here, and I'm just so relieved," she rambles, checking him for signs of fever, her hands gently compressing his chest, trying to draw out any excess water. Her touch lingers.

His eyelashes flutter. For a moment, he looks like he is going to fall back asleep, but he doesn't. Instead, he looks around, looking for the familiar tune. She follows his gaze to her music box. Something he'd given her for her thirteenth birthday.

"You still have it?" He asks, grinning faintly. His eyes hold the fog of sleep, but his voice is full of wonder. Breathy and melodic. She's missed it.

"Of course I do. You made it. I keep it with me when I'm distressed, and it reminds me of you when you're not here," she pauses, her smile fading into wistfulness until it once again brightens, "It keeps me sane. This, I mean. The memory of you. Especially when I need something to tie me down." 

"Come here," he rasps, dehydrated despite what felt like the gallons of water in his lungs. Walking over to him, she leans over his bed, and he suddenly pulls her into a tight embrace. So tight that he feels as if his lungs will burst. But he does not let go.

"It's okay," she murmurs, her gaunt, emaciated body awkwardly hunched over his. She feels his tears over her heart as he begins to sob softly, shaking.

"It's not," he says, attempting to keep his voice from shaking. He fails. His hold on her is bruising, but she lets him continue.

Why didn't she see it before?

He is broken.

And it is all her fault.

She remembers placating him with kisses when they used to fight when they were younger. Now that she can't do it anymore, now that she doesn't know how to fix him... All she can do is want to go back to those days. All it should have taken was a kiss.

As she sinks down on her knees beside him, brushing his curls away from his blotchy face, everything she's been trying to hold together shatters. She can't take seeing him that way.

Tears swim in those bright eyes, and there are no words between them except I'm sorry.

They would make it up to each other.

He places a new crown of flowers onto her hair.

They are sitting on the edge of the pond two days later, Anne looks like a beautiful fairy queen, regardless of how pale and thin she has become. In the stories he had made up for her, her father had been a faery knight who died slaying a dragon when she was a baby. In the light, he could clearly imagine her back weighed down by wings made of stars. Even without them, she is ethereal, even with her gaunt cheeks and all her scars.

Anne takes off the crown, sniffing the flowers. She holds them to her chest and smiles. It has been three days since Raymond's accident, and she can find at least some strength with which to be happy. After all, he is alive.

"Ray, this is... um, well, this is definitely a sunflower here," she says, gesturing to the huge adornment that dwarfs everything else. "The crown itself is made of... buttercups, autumn crocus... Are these daisies? Oh, you know I adore daisies."

"They're daisies. Now, stop taking it off. It looks lovely on you."

He puts it back on her head, chuckling softly as the sunflower droops over her eyes. For the first time in what feels like ages, she is finally starting to look like herself again. The faintest shade of pink colours her cheeks, and her lips are set into that familiar petulant line that he never thought he'd miss.

"You're okay now, aren't you?" asks Anne timidly, fumbling with the elbow-length gloves she had begun to wear all the time. To hide the scars. He notices how her eyes are cast down. He supposes she feels guilty for how she tried to attack him.

Moving closer to her, he brushes away a lock of her hair that was honestly quite neat until he disturbed it. Regardless, it still gets her attention.

"I should be asking you that, but, yes, I am. I've coughed out all that horrid water, and though that is an experience I pray I will never have to go through again, I am alive."

"So, you're happy...?" she murmurs, pressing her lips to his cheek.

He smiles at her. Boyish, enchanting, and beautiful. She melts all over again. It takes quite an effort to keep the tears from falling. "Well, we're alive, we're fine, and we're together. What's not to be happy about?"

"I love it," she says, adjusting her flower crown, a toothy smile on her glowing face. "It's going to prove a tad bit difficult to press, but I really love it. I love this. Spending time together. We haven't had a moment of peace for the longest time. But... I missed you during breakfast. Was this what you were doing? You should have eaten first."

"It's all right. Poached eggs and apples worth nothing compared to seeing you smile again. Besides, we can go sneak into the kitchen later. Maybe... steal whatever desert Cook's made for dinner?" There is a mischievous glint in his eyes. They share the same memories of dashing in and out of the kitchen as children, hiding away sweets in their bedchambers.

She throws her arms around him, leaving him surprised, but smiling. His proximity to her is needed, not rejected. He takes the opportunity, knowing full well that he may never have it again. He asks her.

"Would you like to tell me? I mean, I won't pry. You don't have to if you don't want to. It's just that... I want you to be able to talk to me again. You do know that I will always be here for you, right?" asks Ray, stroking her hair. His gaze is far away, over the pond he had nearly drowned him. Quietly, he says, "You can tell me. We've never had any secrets between us. I'd hate for that to start now."

She knows it is not his intention, but his words pressure her a little. She shrugs it off, remembering that she wanted to. To let him know that it had not been his fault.

"Your cousin asked me to dance about a month ago," she begins carefully as he falls silent, allowing her to speak. "After knowing that he had exhausted me thoroughly, he proposed. Told me that I could not do much better than him. After I rejected, politely,"a Politely is something that did not appear in Anne's vocabulary often, "He told me that he'd fancied me for a time. Then he told me complete rubbish. That he was trying to save me from myself. That I should become something more than his 'simpleton cousin's whore'." He tastes the venom in her words.

Already his blood is boiling. No man had the right to talk to a lady that way. Anne ought to have turned his face inside out.

"He slapped me, Ray. It was humiliating. I scratched him across the face, but he struck me again and became angry. He was crass and disgusting. When I'd had enough, I darted through the crowed, before falling over and having a catalepsy. No one would look at me right when they took care of me. Not even the maids. Not even Aunt Ellie. It was horrible. And then I started thinking about being a burden to everyone... it was just so horrible. The music box you gave me for my thirteenth birthday? I ended up breaking it by accident. I dropped it because I tried to claw at myself until I bled. It ceases to play sometimes. I...I..."

"That's enough now, Anne. It's alright."

She allows him to cradle her against his body. She can't help but feel so small as he holds her and tries to keep her from crying. She had been prepared to tell him what she had told George, but now? No. Not while he was telling her how much he loved her. Not while he talked to her about wedding plans and dreams. She listens to him. To his voice, not his words.

"If it would make you happy, we could bring the music box to my grandfather in Yorkshire. I know how to fix it, but I left all my tools with him last summer when I stopped by. Would you like that? A little sojourn to the countryside's worked to keep us happy lots of times."

Despite herself, she rolls her eyes at him. All the things that boy refers to... All she can say is that hay is not comfortable.

Needless to say, his thoughtless comment gets her flustered. "I-That... That would be nice, I guess," she squeaks. "It's been a long time since we'd actually had some peace. I really am sorry for dragging you out here to see me."

She feels his lips on the top of her head.

"Dragging me out here? If I weren't with you, I'd be dead from boredom and arithmetic I hardly understand. I'd rather be with you. You know that I would choose you over something as trivial as school. We've talked about this."

Their lips touch. Her heart no longer feels like breaking as he hauls her onto his lap.

"Careful," she teases. "If anyone sees us like this, you might be forced to take an extended trip to China while I grow into spinsterhood."

He laughs. It is contagious. There is beauty in this world, and Anne finds it. Him. God, everything always led back to him. She intertwines their fingers and finds him smiling at her.

"It will be all right. I can't imagine that Papa would wait a few years to get us married. I can tell he wants grandchildren before he's forty. You should hear him ramble about it. It's hogwash."

"Mama might need some convincing."

"We'll find a way." Though the hand stroking her hair stops for a moment. Her heart falters, but she brings herself to look into his eyes and find a semblance of normalcy. She sees herself lying beside him in a meadow after chasing each other about. Sees him swiping a paintbrush across her nose as they laugh. So many memories. She embraces him.

"I won't let him near you again. He can't hurt you anymore."

"Ray... Just take me down to the chapel right now. I no longer want to have any doubts. Nor do I want anyone else having doubts about whether or not I should marry you."

He strokes her hair, pulling her impossibly closer.

"You know we mustn't. Not right now, at least. We're not even engaged. But soon, I promise. We don't have to wait for wedding preparations. The moment I place a ring on your finger, I will carry you down to the plaza chapel and have the priest there wed us."

They fall into silence.

"It's going to be nice," Anne muses, eyes closed. Long lashes brush against her cheek, and Raymond is entranced. "Just the two of us. It's always been the endgame, hasn't it?"

"Ever since we were children." His arms are wrapped around her waist, snugly right under her bosom. A gentle flush rises to her face. Despite it, she rests her head down on his shoulder.

"Promise me we'll see it through together?" Anne holds up her pinky. It reminds Raymond of the first time they carried out their promise. Just as he is about to twine his pinky through hers, they are interrupted.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing? It's time for luncheon, stop canoodling about!"

Eleanor looks furious and mortified, red to the roots of her hair.

Both of them erupt into laughter as Anne jumps away, landing on the grass as her day dress hikes up to her knees. As Raymond stands up, he offers her a hand. Instead of helping her up, he twines their pinkies together and hauls her up by the waist. Their lips crash together again, and he laughs against her, pulling away.

"I promise."

A/N: DID I CATCH YOU OFF-GUARD? I know I said April, but I couldn't help myself! At present, the word count is 35K out of 350K! Not much, but it's something! Regular updates start in the summer! Don't worry, that's like, a week from now.