Sorry to take so long guys... why does work get in the way of fun? We've got an extra-long chapter to make it up to you, with lots of interesting stuff going on. Enjoy! ;)

Part IV: Chapter 11 - I Feel The Slightest Touch

We drove back in an easier silence than we had set out in, and by the time we returned to my parents' house, Tegan was dry-eyed and solemn. We watched a TV movie from the 80s and took a nap in separate bedrooms and I looked at my watch in disbelief when my mother opened the door and said it was time for dinner.

"Is your friend coming?" she asked.

"I'll ask her," I said, dragging myself out of bed. I felt like I was the one with jet lag as I passed my parents' room and opened my sister's bedroom door quietly. Tegan was splayed out on her back like a starfish, and I immediately recalled seeing her lie like that a million years ago as the bridge of her nose darkened and swelled. My brother chose that moment to tip his head out of his door, down the hall, and make an obscene gesture with his tongue and his fingers. I gave him a discouraging look. The idea of Tegan at the dinner table with him was more than a little disconcerting.

"Tegan," I said, stepping into the room. She was out cold, unmoving. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her sleeping face for a moment, suddenly frozen as the hollow ache in my chest filled up with regret for how things were, and, I admit, a little bitterness over the unfairness of it. She came to me, but why? She was broken-hearted; she needed someone; she came to me because I'd been there before and she thought she could count on me. She was right, of course, but didn't she have any other backup plans? There were plenty of fans who would be happy to hold Tegan's hand while she cried. But then, she was here, unconscious on my sister's bed, after having flown around the world. There wasn't someone in Vancouver that she could go to? Why me, after the video, after everything. . .

"Tegan," I said again, wanting to touch her face, but instead putting a hand on her knee and shaking it gently. "Tegan, it's dinner time. . ." She woke with a start.

"Hmmm?" she moaned groggily, rubbing her eyes. I removed my hand from her knee. It made me sad, this way that I felt, this hesitation, this reserve.

"Want to face a dinnertime interrogation with my family?" I asked her. She dragged herself into a sitting position, her hair standing up at the back.

"Uhhhhh. . . yeah, okay. . ." She ran her fingers through her hair, looked down at her wrinkled t-shirt. "I should change. . ." She looked like she would pull her shirt off, and then stopped herself, awkwardly.

"I'll give you a minute," I said, leaving her alone to change. I couldn't help it; I remembered the first time I peeled her t-shirt off of her in Vancouver, looked up at her naked body above me as she straddled me, felt her breasts with my hands, my lips. . . felt her squeeze me with her thighs as she came. . . and now she was reluctant to take her shirt off in front of me? It was all so awkward, so uncertain, so strange. But she was here.

Downstairs, I helped my mother set the table. Tegan was down a few minutes later, in a clean t-shirt and jeans, her hair still sticking up a little despite her efforts, and we all awkwardly sat at the table and started to dish out the food. My brother was staring at Tegan with undisguised interest. My father had already started eating, a newspaper folded over to the crossword puzzle, sitting next to his plate as though he were alone at the table. My mother, I noticed, was looking distastefully at the tattoos on Tegan's arms, but to her credit, she was at least trying to conceal it.

"So, Tegan," my mother started. "What brings you to DC?" I froze for a second, but really, it was a good question. Tegan accepted the bread basket from my brother, who gave her a cheeky smirk. I glared at him.

"Uh, well. . . Jaime," Tegan said, forcing her tired, sad features into a pleasant smile. "Just to visit." My mother looked at me, surprised, and back to Tegan. What was she surprised for? People visit each other, mom. It's a thing.

"From where?" she asked, transferring a big, cheesy slab of lasagna onto her plate.

"Well, um, I flew in from Amsterdam," Tegan said taking her portion of lasagna with a worried expression.

"Amsterdam?" my mother said. "Is that where the tour ended? Because I thought Jaime would be with you until you finished the American tour." My mother gave Tegan an inquisitive look. Tegan looked at the cheese oozing on her plate, and back to my mother.

"Uh, that was the plan but, uh. . . things. . . went a bit wrong," she stammered, and I felt sorry for her as her face flushed. My brother gave me a wry look and I didn't stab him with my fork. Somehow.

"Oh, really? What happened?" my mother asked breezily, passing the water bottle to me.

"Mom," I tried to interject, suddenly anxious that Tegan would tell the truth. Or that my brother would.

"Well, I. . . I had some, uh. . . family troubles," Tegan said with effort, and I heard a faint snort from my brother.

"Oh dear, nothing serious, I hope?" my mother said earnestly, taking a bite of garlic bread.

"Um, no. . . I mean. . ."

"But Jaime left the tour early. If you had family troubles-"

"Mom, seriously," I hissed.

"Yeah, that was. . . uh, I'm hoping she'll join us on the US leg of the tour. . ." My heart clenched a little.

"I thought you fired Jaime because of the barn sex video," my brother mumbled around a mouthful of pasta, and I nearly choked. I kicked him, hard, under the table.

"Barn. .. Brad, good heavens!" my mother exclaimed, giving me an incredulous look. Tegan blushed deeply.

"Uh, well, that. . . it's not what it looks like." Tegan was struggling to maintain her composure.

"What kind of video is -"

"There's a video on YouTube called-"

"Brad, please, stop it," I said.

"Why? It's on YouTube,"

"It's rude, for one thing-"

"It's okay," Tegan started tensely, looking at my mother. "There's a video on YouTube of me. . . with a girlfriend. . . and someone thought it looked like, um, my sister." My mother looked scandalized for a moment, as my heart sank. Tegan took a bite of lasagna, entirely without relish.

"Well, so what if you are in a video with your sister," my mother went on obliviously.

"They're doing it, mom," Brad explained, helpfully.

"This is the most horrifying dinner conversation," I muttered, embarrassed for my family.

"Why? It's awesome," Brad said.

"Well, my goodness. . ." my mother gasped, "well of course it's not your sister in the video!"

"Exactly," I said, glaring at Brad again. "But some soulless person posted the video and thousands of idiots fell for it and. . . they've been dealing with the backlash of that. . ." I hoped this was enough explanation for my mother. This conversation was making me nostalgic for the days when my mother would interrogate me about boys at the dinner table.

"Well, how could anyone think it was her with her sister?" my mom went on to ask, aghast. "People are really sick sometimes. Honestly. And for heaven's sake, why is there a. . . a video of you on the internet?" my mother went on, incredulous, oblivious as always to her own impropriety.

"Can we talk about something else?" I asked, somewhat desperate as I felt Tegan's tension next to me, saw her red cheeks and her sick expression.

"So you're a lesbian, then?" came my father's voice, unexpectedly, from the other end of the table. We all turned to him. Tegan tried to smile.

"Yes, I am," she said politely. My father looked at her over his glasses, and then at me, and then back to his newspaper.

"Lot of that going around," he said languidly. I glanced over at Tegan and gave her a pained smile and tried to apologize with my eyes. She forced a half-hearted grin and kept eating and, in that moment, it occurred to me that Tegan never ate cheese.

"Ugh," Tegan moaned, later that night, stretched out on the living room sofa. I sat at the other end with the remote control, Tegan's feet just a few inches from my leg. "So much cheese."

"Aww, well. . . I'm sorry, I could have gotten you something else," I suggested. "You hadn't eaten anything, hardly, for a few days and then a gigantic pile of cheese? Aren't you like, lactose intolerant?" I blushed suddenly, realizing I'd gained that knowledge from my days on fan pages, but Tegan was too preoccupied to notice.

"Ugh," Tegan moaned again, rubbing her stomach and stretching out to her full length, prodding my leg a little with her feet. "I feel like instead of lasagna, I accidentally ate, like, a porcupine. . ."

"Aww," I said, rubbing her ankle for a second and then putting my hand back in my lap as I searched the channels for something good. The living room was thankfully quiet; my mother was out with her reading club; my father was in the den; my brother was probably out getting drunk and fucking cheerleaders. That meant that Tegan and I were alone, and we were not quite as good at being alone as we had been before. I looked down at Tegan, whose face looked pained as she rubbed her stomach, her head turned towards the TV as she did it.

"Tegan, come here," I said at last. She looked at me.

"Hmm?"

"Come here. Put your head here," I said, patting my lap. She gave me a surprised look but complied, shifting over and laying down on her back, with her head in my lap and her legs stretching out the other way. "Okay, relax," I said, laying one hand on her belly and gently rubbing it. Tegan closed her eyes as I softly massaged her stomach. "Better?" I asked.

"Mmhmm…"

When I looked down at her face, a moment later, she was looking up at me thoughtfully.

"Jaime. . . I guess you wonder why I'm here," she said. "I guess. . . maybe you think I. . . just like, ran to you because I needed someone. . ." Her words gave me a start; they sounded like my thoughts.

"That occurred to me, yeah. . ." I admitted, rubbing her stomach in slow circles and wishing I could feel her skin directly. Tegan's eyes were on me; I met her gaze again.

"But that isn't it," she said seriously. "I missed you and. . . I didn't need someone. There are lots of someones. I needed you." I didn't know what to say, because the next question was, did she only need me because she couldn't have Sara?

"And there's only one you," she continued, "and I. . . just wanted to see you, and be near you. . . I wanted to. . . to tell you I'm sorry. . ."

I nodded, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to make of her words, of whether I could trust them, even if she thought she meant them right then.

"I'm really glad you did," I said finally. We sat in silence for few minutes, and I watched my hand slide over the fabric of her shirt, my other hand absently stroking her hair back from her forehead before I could even think not to.

"Jaime?" she asked abruptly.

"Hm?" I glanced down at her and she paused, looking up for my eyes as I struggled not to look away.

"Would you ever. . . be with me again?" She bit her bottom lip self-consciously, pushing out her labret piercing and then pulling it back in again. I blinked, surprised. I hadn't expected that question at all.

"Tegan, I. . ." I want to be with you more than anything in the world. I can't think about anything else. But I couldn't say that. I thought about her question, pressed my lips together, shook my head. "Tegan, before. . . all of this, for all those years I followed you, it just. . . it hurt so much. . . "

I didn't know how to put it into words. "When you barely knew who I was. . . it hurt seeing you, it hurt not seeing you, it hurt knowing how far away from me you really were. Knowing I never had a chance. It hurt all the time." I tried hard to gather my thoughts to make her understand. "I tried to build up, like, a wall against you, so I could manage, so it wouldn't, like. . . destroy me. But then in Vancouver, you just. . . you broke it all down. And knowing that I had to, like. . . give you back to Sara, it broke my heart. Even though I saw it coming, even though I knew the whole time. . . it was. . . I mean, I didn't want to make it any harder for you, but it was. . . so hard." Her dark brown eyes were still watching me intently, apprehensively, her forehead furrowed as she listened. I took a deep breath. "But then after that. . . those times on the bus. . . you just. . . I let you back inside again, I couldn't help it. And I thought. . . that I could cope with it, eventually be okay with it, not need to like, protect myself from you so much. But then Berlin. . ." I didn't need to explain. She nodded. "It crushed me," I finished in a whisper. Both of my hands had stopped moving as I looked down into her face, so gentle, so sad.

"I know," she said softly.

"And I'm not. . . I don't want you to apologize any more because you don't need to. And everything with Sara, it's not your fault and I don't blame you, but I just. . ." I took another shaky breath as I focused on the carpet, willing myself not to cry. "Tegan, I don't know if my heart could handle it again. Even if. . . you wanted me."

She continued watching me as I stared hard at the floor, waiting for her response. Reaching up, she grasped the back of the couch, worn thin after a lifetime of three kids and two dogs, and grimaced at the pain in her stomach as she pulled herself up into a sitting position next to me. She wiped her palms on the knees of her jeans, as worn as the old couch, and was quiet for a while. Finally, she spoke.

"I'm broken," she said quietly.

"No-"

"No, I am. And you're the only one who knows how broken. . . other than Sara. And you still love me, somehow."

I nodded. "Yes," I said softly.

"All my life I just. . . I tried to love other people, but it was a lie. It wasn't that I didn't love them, because I did, but it wasn't. . . they didn't know. And so they didn't know me. They didn't know what I. . . couldn't. . ." Her voice trailed off, and I nodded again. "But loving you. . . was never a lie." My heart skipped a little. Loving me? "And once I had a chance. . . once I got to really know you. . . I didn't mean for it to happen, but you. . . I feel. . ." she looked down at her hands, sighed. "I don't know what to do. I'm afraid that it's just. . . never going to change. That I'll always feel this way about Sara, and so it will never be fair to anyone else who is with me. It will never be fair for me to be with anyone, at all. And so like. . . is that it? Do I just have to go through the rest of my life alone, so that I never hurt anyone else? Like I've hurt you, like I've hurt others, because I just can't be. . . everything. . ." I looked up at her eyes, glossy, and then at her hands in her lap, which had started to tremble, just slightly. The affection and sadness I felt for her were swirling together in my chest, threatening to overwhelm me. "I mean," she continued, "do you, like. . . does that make sense?" I smiled, sadly.

"Yes," I said honestly. "I've felt that way ever since I met you."

She looked up at me, meeting my sad smile with her own. She paused, again, and then continued.

"It's not fair for me to, like. . . to ask anything from you, when I can't promise you anything. When I don't know if I can. . . how I. . .I don't know, anything. But. . . if you would ever want to try to. . . have me. . . I would want to try too." I looked back at her eyes, earnest and anxious, the conflicting emotions in my chest starting to drown me.

"I-"

The doorbell rang, and we both jumped. I hesitated, and it rang again. Tegan pulled her legs up underneath herself on the couch, and with great reluctance I got up to answer the door.

"What the fuck, dude," Kim said to me as soon as the door opened. "The fandom is like, exploding. There's word going around that Sara fucked some fan after the Amsterdam show, where she was talking about fucking Tegan and like-"

"Kim, I'm not-"

"And like, Tegan was crying and walked off stage and-"

"Hi," Tegan said, peeking around my shoulder at Kim. Kim's mouth dropped open as Tegan gave Kim her best gummy smile. "I'm Tegan." Tegan extended her hand. Kim, agape, looked from my face to Tegan's face to Tegan's hand and back to Tegan's face.

"Um. . . uh. . ."

"Shake her hand, Kim,"

"Right. Hi. I'm Kim," she said, taking Tegan's hand and staring at her the way you might stare at a unicorn if it just strolled into your living room one day.

"Nice to meet you. I think I recognize you from some shows, no?"

"Uh. . . yes."

"Awesome." Tegan smiled again, turned to me. "Uh, Jaime, maybe I'll take a shower?"

"Oh, sure. . . do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good," she said. "Nice meeting you," she said with a smile at Kim, and bounced up the steps.

Kim stared at me with her mouth open for at least fifteen seconds.

"Do you want to come in?" I asked, stepping aside. My heart felt heavy. I wanted to be on the sofa, rubbing Tegan's stomach. I wanted to finish my sentence even though I didn't know how it was going to end. Kim wandered in, stunned disbelief splashed all over her face.

"Uh, Jaime, um, Tegan. . . um. . . is Tegan Quin in your shower right now?"

"I don't hear the water yet, but-"

"Jesus, what the fuck is up with your life, dude? What? What is she doing here?"

"I don't know. . . she just showed up and. . ." I wandered into the kitchen and Kim followed. "Do you want some juice or. . ."

"Oh, um, actually I'm on my way to a show but wondered if I could maybe borrow your camera?"

"Oh, sure," I said, relieved. She wouldn't be staying long then. "Come upstairs." I led the way and she followed.

"Won't Tegan be like. . . naked in your room or. . .?"

"No!" I said, unrealistically appalled. "She's sleeping in my sister's room."

"Oh," Kim said. "So you guys aren't, like. . ."

"No!" I said again, protesting altogether too much.

In my room, Kim sat her bag down and sat on the bed while I went into my closet in search of my spare camera.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the show tonight? Should be good," Kim said. "You could bring Tegan!"

"No, she's jetlagged and. . . um. . ." I couldn't, at that moment, come up with a convincing reason why Tegan and I would not come out to a show.

"You guys are doing it!" she cried, scandalized like my mother, like the small Asian girl.

"Kim, we aren't! No!" She gave me a dubious look. "Really." And it was true, wasn't it? We weren't. It had been weeks since I'd touched Tegan's tongue with mine while Sara pushed her thighs open. . .

I found the camera and handed it to the suspicious-looking Kim.

"Thanks," she said, almost resentfully. "I'll bring it back in a few days."

"No rush," I said, sitting on the bed, suddenly tired. "What time's the show?" Kim glanced at her watch.

"Doors are at eight. I have to run, actually."

"Okay," I said, getting up.

"Nah, I'll show myself out," Kim said. "Have fun with Tegan!" She smirked at me and I rolled my eyes and she left.

I stretched out on my bed, gazing up at the ceiling. I started to drift off, remembering those nights on the bus when we were drunk and high and we all got in bed together and insane things happened that I could still hardly believe. I almost laughed, picturing Kim's face if she ever found out.

I think I was asleep for a few minutes when I felt the bed move a little and opened my eyes to see Tegan sitting on the edge, her hair wet, face pink from the hot water, and as always, my mind convinced me that it could taste pineapple.

"Where's your friend?" she asked, as I pulled myself to a sitting position so that we sat, turned towards each other.

"She had a show to go to," I said, and her aloe smell and her warmth, her rosy skin all affecting me, making me feel weak. She looked at me, and something was back in her eyes that had been there before the video disaster. Her eyes asked something, wanted something, but her lingering sorrow and guilt, it seemed, were getting in her way. My eyes moved down to her beautiful lips and I felt a little shiver.

"How's your stomach?" I asked, awkward, immediately regretting the loss of that moment.

"Mmmm, a little sketchy," she said, wincing. "How's yours?"

"Fine," I answered, and it seemed that she leaned in a little more.

"Before the doorbell rang, I wanted to say. . . that it's. . . I'm just really glad to see you again." Another chunk of my resolve melted away, against my will, when she looked into my eyes as she said it.

"I thought I was never going to see you again," I told her and she looked sorry again.

"I'm sorry but I wouldn't be able to stand that," she said. I laughed, a little, swallowing the swelling in my throat.

"I wasn't super crazy about the idea either." She gave me a brief, sad smile, and her brows drew together. She regarded me like that for a moment and then she reached out and cautiously held my face between her hands.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, her voice low and quiet, and despite the fear and insecurity in my chest, I couldn't help but smile.

"I kind of like this new thing where you ask me for permission," I said, teasing her, and she smiled a little but there was more sadness in her expression than happiness.

"I'll keep asking then."

"Okay, ask one more time."

"Can I kiss you?" I hesitated, knowing I would never forgive myself for this decision.

"Yes," I said finally, and she leaned in closer, her hands still on my face, and when her lips were on mine again, soft and warm and slightly wet, that same heat I always felt with her came back to me, along with her sadness, her guilt, her broken heart. That was a lot to feel in one kiss. It was slow and sweet and just as Tegan's hand slipped through my hair and around the back of my neck, I heard it.

"I, oh, fuck, uh. . ."

I pulled away from Tegan and looked, and yes, there was Kim in the doorway.

"Uh. . ." she said, seemingly unable to complete her thought.

"Hi Kim," I sighed, as Tegan got up off the bed.

"Um, I have to make a phone call," Tegan said, smiling at Kim and then winking at me over her shoulder as she left the room. I watched her leave, gave her a sarcastic look in response to her cheeky wink, and then met Kim's face, splattered with stupefaction.

"Uh. . . did you just. . . were you just. . . Tegan was. . . you. . . you were kissing Tegan Quin!"

"Kim," I said, noticing that I almost always felt tired when I talked to her.

"Tegan Quin was kissing you!"

"Okay, but-"

"You said nothing was happening!"

"Okay, I'm sorry about that but Tegan doesn't want any, like. . . publicity or, I mean. . . it's her privacy-"

"There are videos of her, supposedly having sex with her sister, but she doesn't want anyone to know about you?" Yeah, I realized that that lie would not hold water.

"Um, why are you back, Kim? What about the show?"

"I forgot my bag but you were kissing Tegan!" She was clearly not going to get over it.

"Okay, okay. Don't freak out."

"Tegan!"

"Kim, come on."

"Okay. Um, are you sleeping with her?" Kim asked, and it sounded a lot like an accusation. I could feel myself blushing, damn it, and knew I wouldn't be able to fool her.

"Well, not for a while-"

"A while?" she repeated, utterly aghast. "So you have slept with her?" My mouth opened and closed again because in the interim I could think of nothing convincing to say other than the truth. I shrugged. "Holy fucking fuck, dude, you. . . you're. . ."

"What?" I asked, afraid to know.

"You're a fucking. . . legend." I laughed, relieved, embarrassed, awkward, and a little bit self-satisfied.

"That's not what I thought you were going to say," I told her, and she laughed.

"I wasn't sure until the last second, either," she said, leaning over to pick up her bag from next to the bed. That's why she was back. "So am I going to get any details?" she asked with a wicked grin and I shook my head.

"Nope," I said.

"None?" she pressed. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"No fair," she moaned, dragging her feet on the way to the door.

"Nothing ever is," I said.

"Truth. You're a. . . a. . . but it's hot though, right?" she asked, turning back at the doorway. I smiled and waved.

"Later, Kim." She sighed and left me alone with the ghost of Tegan's kiss still on my lips.