A/N: Just so you know, T+S are now caught up to their current age (30). So for those who haven't been paying attention, this means they were 20 when they met, 22 when they got married, and 25 when they separated. I hope this is all accurate and clears everything up!
All You Got
Arrow-Part Two
Sara's P.O.V.
5 Years later
I have barely seen Tegan in the past five years. After we got our marriage annulled, she took off. Luckily, I knew she wasn't dead because our brother Jason called to tell me she'd arrived the next day on a greyhound bus to stay with him in their parent's old house. I wanted her to have the apartment we shared, but she was gone and out of my life before I could say anything to her.
At first, the pain felt like a thousand arrows piercing every part of my weak body. But then, after a few arduous months of throwing myself into my music career, exerting myself at every show, I started to feel the pain a little less. Eventually, I could play most of Tegan's songs onstage without breaking down. With every album I released under my revised contract with Superclose, my fanbase grew a little larger. And though my paycheck grew proportionately, I could never bring myself to leave the small apartment in Vancouver. I guess, a small, pathetic part of me still hopes Tegan will come back to stay. But I never mention this to my fiancé, Emy. We've been together for 4 years, and engaged for one. I keep putting off the wedding, to everyone's dismay, especially Emy's. I always use the excuse that work is too demanding, that I want to wait until the stress of my career had winds down a bit to settle down… again.
It's the morning of the 5 year anniversary of Tegan's and my separation. Though I've never told her everything about the situation, Emy generally understands that I need to be left alone on this day. Mostly, I just stay at home in the dark, drinking and waiting, hoping to forget. This year is no different. I start the day late, waking to an empty bed, and cracking open a beer though it was only nine in the morning. Right on schedule. I crumple up Emy's goodbye note saying she'd gone into her art studio for the day and reminding me to eat the leftovers in the fridge. She tells me to bolt the door when I get up, as if that could save me.
By 11, I'm well on my way to oblivion, the court shows on daytime T.V. blare in the apartment, my slurring laughter catching in my own ears. There's a loud knock on the door… right on schedule. I clink my half-full beer bottle on the coffee table with the others. Stumbling slightly, I open the door I never bothered bolting shut.
"Sara…hi-"
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I slur at Tegan, barely even shocked to see her anymore through my drunken stupor. I'm pretty sure a part of me believes (or hopes) that she's a hallucination- a product of my sick mind.
"Jesus Christ, Sara. You're drunk already?" Tegan says, disgust and pity dripping from her voice and eyes. She pushes past me and I shut the door hard, locking it securely this time. I need to hear if a key is turning in it. I follow Tegan into the living room, where she's cleaning up my discarded bottles along with my shot glass and bottle of vodka. I sit on the couch and turn off the T.V., refusing to say anything.
She's sitting next to me on the couch- close enough so our thighs touch through her jeans and my sweatpants. I swallow the water and aspiring she hands me (is if aspirin could dull the pain), and the fog in my head starts to clear a bit.
"You need to stop coming here, Tegan."
"You need to stop self-destructing."
"I-I'm sorry, Tee." I whimper, and give in, throwing my arms around her neck, and deeply breathing in her familiar, comforting smell. This is how it's been on this day for the past 3 years, this being the fourth time. And it's not like I've ever really protested it. I always make arrangements so I'm home to open the door and let her in, if only to have her walk out again an hour before Emy is due home, not to appear for another year.
"Besides. I can't stay away. You know I can't live without you." She tries to kiss me, but I move my head to she plants one on my cheek instead.
"Tegan, no. It's just… this is wrong. I can't do this anymore."
"Baby, don't think about it; just for today. Please." Tegan gently slips of my clothes, one piece at a time, kissing each piece of skin as if she was discovering it for the first time. I kept my mouth closed and my head turned to the side as she lays me down flat on the couch, devouring my body with her eyes and soft hands. I don't… I can't respond to Tegan's caresses, save for the tears streaming down my otherwise emotionless face. Tegan tries to bring her face to mine, but I can't bear to open my eyes and see our similarity mocking me. I let out a lone, pent-up moan as her hand finally comes to rest over my growing heat. In seconds, her face is buried in my neck, her tears falling freely, and two fingers are working inside of me roughly. Our raspy moans and desperate pants fill the room and echo off of the freshly painted walls.
We're lost in the moment. We don't hear the front door open. We don't hear Emy calling out, asking me if I'm home (no doubt wondering why she can't hear Judge Judy blaring). But we do hear her piercing scream of horror. Tegan withdraws her hands from me and spins around to face Emy, still straddling me.
"Oh my God! What the FUCK?" Emy's yell is shrill with anger and sadness. I try to cover myself franticly, and Tegan automatically throws the afghan draped over the couch at me. Emy just continues to stare in terror and shock as Tegan gets up and dresses herself as quickly as possible with her clothes littering the floor. She tries to leave, but Emy steps in front of her.
"Before you go, care to tell me who the fuck you are and why you're in my house with my naked fiancé?"
"I'm…Tegan." Tegan brushes her long hair out of her face to reveal our similarity. I bury my face in my hands in sickening shame as I hear Emy gasp.
"You-You're her twin?" Out of the space between my hands, I see the back of Tegan's head nod. "A-and you were…fucking?" Tegan's head nods again, confirming everyone's worst nightmare, admitting to the sick, perverted act that I try to convince myself I don't crave every single day.
"Please. Get the hell out of my house." Emy's voice is low and dangerous, leaving Tegan no choice but to flee for her life from the scene and out the front door. I hear the bedroom door slam down the hall. Peeling myself from the couch and trying not to cry or hyperventilate, I put my clothes back on. Bracing myself for the absolute worst, I walk into the bedroom I've shared with Emy for the past four years. Her tour suitcase is open on the floor, and she's dumping a drawer into it. Tears are falling down her face and neck messily. Emy shoves the drawer back in place, and shoves open the sliding closet door. She grabs as much as she can from her side of the closet and lets it all fall into the suitcase, hangers all intact.
"Tell me this was the first time, Sara." Emy stands above me, hand on my cheek. I turn my head away slowly, refusing to answer. She moves to walk away, but I stop her, wrapping my arms around her legs like a needy child, nonsensical pleas for her to stay pouring out of my mouth between sobs. She rubs the top of my head with her free hand, but then pries my arms from around her.
"Was it worth it?" she asks in a whisper.
"I don't know." I say truthfully.
"Goodbye, Sara. I'll be back to get the rest of my things in a few days. Take care of yourself." One soft kiss on the lips and she's gone out the door, leaving the apartment sickeningly empty. I curl up on the soft comforter, but I don't feel very comforted at all. My chest throbs as if my heart has been pulled out for the second time. I feel deep set remorse and guilt for what I've done. It's not as if I don't love Emy, I just love Tegan more. But I have to be honest. Nothing justifies what I did to Emy. I could've told Tegan to go home, wherever that even is. It wasn't a sin of necessity, but felt like it anyways.