ELECTRICITY ━━ gilbert blythe

28. healing

"Surer than I've ever been before," Violet answered.

And that was that.

This was not a love that made Violet forget. This was a love that made Violet tip over the edge with memories. One that calmed her storm, and let her truly breathe.

This was a love that healed.

—

Gilbert Blythe was thriving.

He had moved on, living a rather large life in the University of Toronto. His books were his solace as he skimmed them with pleasure. Because this was his destiny. Helping people. Watching them blossom from the sickness that gnawed at their very sanity. Watching them power through what Mary had not.

It warmed his heart, knowing that he was making a difference in the community. That his resource could contribute to a breakthrough in the medical world.

"I'm here, Blythe. You called for me?" Camilla Macmillan, his research partner sauntered into the room. Her thick, dark glasses framed beautiful blue eyes, and her blonde hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail.

"I found something." Gilbert said, apprehensively. "I do not know if this a normal cell or not, but it was extracted from a human body. It secreted something that destroyed another particle. Here, Camilla, have a look." He turned the microscope in her direction as she peered through it.

"Interesting, Blythe. Interesting indeed." Camilla mused. "I'll look over this with Professor Smith. Good Job."

He felt pride swell in him.

Camilla paused for a second. "Those British newspapers are piling up in your locker, Blythe. Best you sort through them."

"Alright, Camilla." Gilbert smiled weakly.

"You have family back in Britain?" Camilla questioned. They never spoke about things outside of passions, aspirations and biology. The new ground felt unfamiliar, but Gilbert felt a shockwave of nostalgia wrap around him.

"Something like that." His eyes were wistful, as his lips curled into an involuntary smile.

Camilla grinned. "A girl, then? But you haven't taken a single leave since we've started. A girl in Britain that you haven't seen in over a year?"

"It's complicated, Macmillan." Gilbert sighed.

"Go to her. Simple. Easy."

"Drop it, Camilla." His voice tensed up.

"But-"

"I said, drop it." Gilbert's jaw clenched as his eyes filled with sadness, the window to his soul.

She raised her hands in surrender."Alright, Blythe. I won't push."

When Gilbert reached his locker, newspapers laid in disarray, and on the very top of the pile, was an image that he was bound to recognise. An article that he had been waiting for his whole life.

" YOUNG HEIRESS INVESTIGATES HER FATHER'S DEATH WITH DEAR FRIEND; CATCHES CULPRIT

Violet Greene, a 17 year old woman residing in London, investigated the case of her father's death along with a family friend, Jack Jones. The duo caught the culprit after a year of hard work and endurance, and it turned out to be Jack's very own paternal uncle—Phillip Jones. Jack was incredibly shattered at the fact as Violet comforted him.

"I am devastated at the outcome yet glad that Violet finally has closure with her father. We worked together as a team and this brought us closer than ever," Jack stated profusely.

"It was an effort to find and track the culprit, and we were extremely surprised to find out that it was Phillip, for he had aided our case throughout the year," The young woman stated. It is now known information that Phillip played double agent to his own 'mafia' and was, in fact, the villain at the end.

The young pairing yet has to disclose more information about this case, for it is classified police information. The culprit has been caught and London is safe once more, rendering the two as city-wide heroes. Violet Greene has finally gained the closure she has been looking for for years."

Next to the article was a picture of Violet and Jack, and even though they both looked worn out, they were beaming. Violet's gorgeous dark curls fell till her waist and her sea blue eyes glistened with tears that Gilbert could only presume to be happy ones; Jack towered over her with his light blue eyes and raven hair.

Gilbert felt his heart thump, echo in his ears. Violet, oh, how he missed his Violet. Oh, how he had to see his Violet.

Her face, the slight curve of her lips, the freckles that were splattered on her cheeks like dried tea stains. The way her eyes were wide and so tumultuous and so alive–

Gilbert had to see her. Gilbert had to look into those eyes again, trace his fingertips against her neck, inhale the scent of her: vanilla and chamomile and lavender.

He sauntered into the headmaster's office. Mr. Rogers looked at him with dull eyes.

"What is it, Blythe?"

"Uh- I was just wondering how many days of leave I have," Gilbert queried, feeling exhilaration burst through his skin.

"Enough to cover 5 months," Mr. Rogers replied. "You've really been our most diligent worker this year."

"Can I take my leave now?"

"Of course, Blythe." Rogers spoke. "Send me an official letter and you may leave in a week's time."

And Gilbert was off, glistening prospects blooming in his mind.