anneoftheisland | (no subject)

Two days wasn't a very long time, not in the grand scheme of things, but it was enough to Anne to stop bursting into tears all the time and start to move on again. In some ways, it would've been easier if Constable Turnbull had died, and she could comfort herself with the knowledge that he was in God's hands now. As it was, she had no way of knowing what had happened to him, or where he was now. Had he gone home again? Had he gone back to the moment he'd come from? Had he been whisked off to yet another island? Anne chose to believe that he was safe at home, surrounded by the people he loved and who loved him. She also chose to believe that he would remember her.

And so it was she sat on the log outside of her hut, in the skirt that Constable Turnbull had once told her was quite pretty and a blouse that let through the light breeze, with a pad of paper and a pencil in her hand. She had put pencil to paper once or twice, but mostly she was sitting with her chin resting on her hand, staring out at the jungle and the blue sky.

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"I don't want to go home," he told her. "I know a lot of people who do and sometimes I think maybe I will because the island is supposed to teach me a lesson or some bullshit like that before it sends me back. But I don't want to go. Ever."

Anne turned her hold on his arm into a full hug for a moment. "Then maybe you won't," she told him. "Maybe since things are better for you here, then you won't ever have to go back." She chewed on her lip for a moment as she once again rested her head on Joe's shoulder. "I miss a great many things about Avonlea," she said, "and I think about the things I would have been doing there, if I had not come to the island. But then there are children on the island, too, who need a teacher. There are people who need a friend. There are people with no families who need someone who understands and can give them one. I felt I was needed at Avonlea, but perhaps I'm needed here on the island more."

He appreciated the contact and the comfort and he squeezed her back, smiling slightly. He did miss things about home as well -- beer, for one, and Pipefitter and John, but the island was better for him.

"I think you can do a lot of good things here, Anne," he said honestly. "But I think you could've done a lot of good things back home, too. I think you're just one of those people who's needed in general."

"Thank you, Joe," she said sincerely. "I really would like to believe that I have a reason to be here. And perhaps... perhaps Constable Turnbull was needed more urgently back where he came from. Perhaps he had people who needed him more than I-- more than we did."

"It's okay to say you need him," Joe said gently. "And I don't think anyone needs him more than you do. Billy made it pretty clear that there was no one like you back home for Turnbull. I think you're pretty fucking special to him in that regard."

"Please, Joe," Anne said softly. "At least let me think that he had a reason for going. Let me believe that there was a purpose to it, perhaps an ailing mother, or a group of schoolchildren he needed to be there to save. It... makes it easier to bear."

Joe laughed softly at that and nodded. "I'm sorry," he said. "I bet he's needed back there, too. At the very least, there's a Consulate that needs to be manned. I just meant that I don't think there's anyone who needs him in the same way you do."

Anne wore a sad sort of a smile again. "It's nice to feel special," she said after a moment. "He'll always be so very special to me. I'll never forget, Joe, not ever."

"Good," Joe said firmly, then reached down to take one of her hands and he squeezed gently. "I don't think he'd want you to."