So glad you all were (mostly) excited to see Jamie's reappearance... she's important to the story! )

Part IV: Chapter 8 - I Just Need A Second

We slept the rest of the night on the floor. When I woke, early in the morning, and opened my eyes, she was lying in front of me, watching me solemnly. Her eyes were swollen, her hair standing up in places, stuck to her face in others. She wore a wrinkled, threadbare t-shirt with a tiger on the front. The t-shirt, I guessed, with a little jolt. How odd, how new for us to lie together without touching; there was now a foot between us on the rug, and I felt the sting return immediately, the sting that kept me from reaching out to her now that her tears had stopped.

"Good morning," she said quietly, her face serious. "I'm sorry. . . about last night. . ." I didn't know if we should move further apart or closer together. "I wanted to. . . be near you," she murmured, and I didn't know what to say, because being near her was the only thing I ever wanted but I never want to see you again rang in my mind again and again. She spoke again, just when I wondered if I should. "Do you think you can. . . forgive me?" she asked, unexpectedly vulnerable. It struck me.

"Tegan. . . it was never a question of forgiving or not forgiving. . ." All of the guilt I felt over exposing their darkest secret hit me again. How could she even ask me that? "The video was my fault and. . . I don't blame you for hating me, I mean, the whole thing was terrible. . . is terrible. . . I mean you trusted me and now it's destroying your life and it's all my fault, and I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for what I've done to you. . . what I've done to both of you. And I know. . . I mean, I've seen how it's made Sara. . . act towards you-" I saw her eyes well up and so I pushed on quickly, "and I don't think you could. . . ever know how sorry I am for that. I'm so, so sorry Tegan," I whispered, looking into her face, "I'm so sorry." She nodded. "So I know. . . I understand why you didn't want me around. But. . . I would have stayed forever if. . . you hadn't told me to go." It was important to me not to cry in that moment. I took a few seconds to contain myself. It was weirdly intimate, lying together like that when we were both unprepared to touch each other. Both sorry, both wary.

"It wasn't your fault," she said earnestly. I looked up into her sad brown eyes and thought about it.

"I should have told you. . . what I saw in the barn. But when it happened, I. . . I didn't know you well enough, and later. . . I thought you'd be. . . upset. I didn't. . . spy on you," I told her, the memory of her accusation still sharp in my mind, and the conversation was making me start to feel emotional and I didn't want that.

"I shouldn't have said that. I said a lot of things that I regret," she said, more serious and sober than I'd ever seen her. "I regretted them like. . . almost immediately. . ." At the sound of that, her words rolled through my head again, You betrayed me. . . It stung. It really did. I sat up, leaned back against the edge of the bed. Lying there with her, warm together under the blanket, made me want to hold her again, but she wasn't crying, and in the light of day, with her reminding me of those sharp words, and remembering my own mistakes. . . I wanted to hide. Saying anything critical to Tegan, anything that might upset her, move her further from me, was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I'd worked so hard, for so many years, for her to trust me, to like me; it felt like coaxing a scared stray kitten out of its hiding place, where one wrong move could undo it all. And so I didn't want to have this conversation but if I didn't, I didn't think I would ever get past it. I needed her to understand.

Tegan sat up, too, sad, serious, a little afraid. Something about her apologetic manner at that moment made me want to bring it all out while I felt like she wasn't about to leave and cause me to lose her all over again. I had to stop and remind myself that when she had said those words, she was utterly falling apart.

"Jamie, I think you're. . . you have a reason to be angry. . ."

"I'm not angry," I corrected her quickly. I was never angry.

"I want you to. . . be honest with me right now because. . . I don't want to lose you," she said. I looked up at her, surprised by her words. It was all too much. I didn't know how I could get through this conversation without crying but I was going to try. "We should be able to say anything to each other." I blinked at her. I couldn't believe she thought that. Did she really think that? If she did. . .

"You told me to go," I said, and suddenly, the resentment started to rise up inside of me at the memory. "You said you were sorry you'd ever met me. . ." Tegan winced, nodded.

"I'm sorry. . . That was never true. I was just. . . I mean. . ." Her voice caught and her eyes started shining again, and I felt bad, because I was hurt but she was losing everything. Then. Now. But I still needed to get it out. It had been eating at me, because I felt guilty over my mistake but she had made a mistake too. She was wrong about me.

"You said. . . I'd betrayed you." Repeating those bitter words back to her brought a lump to my throat. Tegan's face reddened a little. She shook her head, so slightly. "I loved you. . . You knew that and. . . of all the things you could ever think I could ever do. . ." I said, losing my composure a little at the recollection of it. I noticed too the way her face twitched a little when I said loved, in the past tense, and I admit I got a little surge of pleasure to see her care. The tears in her eyes, though, gave me nothing but pain.

To my surprise, she shifted and moved closer to me, sitting in front of me cross-legged like we'd sat on her bed in Vancouver. Her knees touched mine, and for the first time ever, I moved just slightly to escape the warm touch of her skin and when I did, the pain registered in her face, but she swallowed it. She took a breath. I felt trapped, trapped by her body, by this conversation, by my love for her.

"I hurt you," Tegan said to me in a quiet voice, her face all earnest sorrow. I couldn't help it; I laughed, just a little, bitterly.

"Haha, yeah," I said, looking away, because I might not ever have another chance to make her understand. It was my moment to be selfish and think about my own pain rather than hers. I wasn't proud of it but I needed it. At that point, I thought her tears were going to spill over. She looked up at the ceiling for a moment. Once you start, I was finding out, it was easier to keep going. I hardly recognized myself. "Do you remember all the times that I told you I loved you? And then you. . . the fact that it could even cross your mind that I would betray you is. . . I would just. . . never do that. I make mistakes, but betraying you. . . I'm just not capable of if. I'm just not. I would rather. . . I would have had it happen to me instead of you, if I could." My voice rose, a little, the intensity of the conversation really getting to me. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, her bare knees just an inch from mine. Her face, all flushed, so contrite, so sorry. I just wanted to put my arms around her but I couldn't.

"I'm so sorry. It wasn't. . . I wasn't myself," she said, and I nodded.

"I know. That's why it's okay.. And because it was me, my stupid fucking video. . . and I'm sorry too. And I regret everything that happened. . ." My throat was tightening. "I wish I could go back and undo it. . ." It got to be too much, in the end, because the tears came, and then so did hers. "But Tegan, you can't think that," I managed, swiping my face with my sleeve. "You know me."

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, and when she placed both hands on my knees, I almost pulled away but didn't.

"Well I'm sorry too. . . but you can't think that way about me."

"I don't," she said.

"Do you even understand what I meant when I said that I loved you?" I asked her. Something was making me push. Her face was so pained, red, wet with tears. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and nodded. "For years, I loved you. You're the only thing I ever wanted, in all that time. I didn't even try to love anybody else, because. . . I just knew I. . . couldn't. I would have done anything for you." I was nearly ranting. I stopped. She closed her eyes, her lower lip trembling a little. She wiped her eyes again and sighed so deeply. I'd gotten it all out and it was a relief, but the relief was quickly replaced by sadness, because of her sadness. I wanted to know what had happened with Sara, what had brought her here to me. I felt sorry. She put her hands on my knees again, and they were wet with tears.

"I really. . ." she sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say.". Her hands on my knees were shaking. It made me sad.

"Tegan. . . I didn't want to make you cry. I just wanted you to. . . understand," I explained. I was starting to feel tired.

"I do."

"Okay. And I know you're going through something so. . . so hard. I wanted to be there for you. . ."

"You keep using the past tense," she murmured, the hurt in her voice unmistakable. She looked embarrassed to ask, confused, conflicted. But she still asked. "Jamie. . . do you. . . um. . . don't you love me anymore?" Her brow creased, her face red, she was afraid of my answer. I'd never felt before that it would really matter to her that much. I sighed.

"Of course I love you. Don't be stupid," I said wearily, and she leaned closer, quickly, her hands gentle on my face and my heart ached but I caught her hands with mine and lowered them, pressed them together, and pushed them slowly away from me.

"I can't," I whispered. I extricated myself from her and quickly got up and walked out, leaving her sitting on the carpet alone.