Warnings: TRIGGERS IN THIS CHAPTER!TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! CONTAINS SCENES OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, RAPE, AND MURDER. Chapter contains a homosexual incestual relationship and sexual content between two women. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Rating: M

Summary:. What happens when she gets her wish and Tegan finds herself in an alternate reality where Sara is her girlfriend, and not her sister? Will be a LONG fic, updated often.

A/N: On a ROLL. Thank you so much for all the reviews! I love reading them. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: COMPLETELY FICTIONAL!

In case you missed it: TRIGGER WARNING! CONTAINS SCENES OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, RAPE, AND MURDER.

Chapter 16 – What I Am

Sara's POV

I shook my leg nervously, as the shrink stared me down from her chair. I chewed on my nails and wanted to be anywhere but here.

"So, Sara; can I call you Sara?" Dr. Reverd asked.

I nodded. I really just wanted to sit here until the hour was up.

"How's your day going?" she asked.

I shrugged "Alright, I guess."

She nodded. "Been a rough week?" she asked me.

I gulped and just nodded, biting my bottom lip. I looked down at my hands, and pictured Tegan's intertwining with them. It made me smile.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing" I answered.

I took a deep breath. I really didn't have to be so difficult.

"I was just thinking about how badly I want to be holding my wife's hand right now. If I look hard enough, I can see her fingers intertwined with mine." I told her, still smiling and looking over my hands.

"This is, Tegan, right?" She asked. Like she didn't know. We were on ET every night now, all over the tabloids: 'Tegan Quin's new tattoos'.

Luckily the label's PR reps had managed to kill the rumours of my assault. I'm not sure exactly how long that'll last with Tegan's court date coming up. I wasn't pressing charges, but apparently I wasn't the only one my wife's other worldy-self had…done wrong. A few days ago, after not having the other Tegan show up, they found another woman in the basement of one of the houses on our street. Until then, I didn't know that we actually own all the houses. According to Ted, we house our band during recording and rehearsal in them. We also apparently run an indie-to radio non-profit, where we find small indie bands, and fly them out, put them up, and record them albums for free.

It was something I'd always wanted to do, but never had the resources to…until now. It'll be a bit before we can do it again though with…current situations. But the girl was testifying, and it had been stressing both Tegan and I out a lot lately.

"How did you two meet?" she asked me, snapping me out of it.

I had think for a moment. This world's version of the story.

"We were in grade 3 together. We became best friends, and two years later when my parents died, her mom took me in. We grew up together. We'd always been in love."

"And you got married early?" she asked.

I nodded "At 18. As soon as we could. We've been married for 14 years now."

"This must me hard on her." She noted.

I nodded "She's having a really tough time. She tries to hide it, but I know her too well you know? But I don't say anything." I paused "She's been amazing through all of this, but I just can't deal with her emotions around it yet. I still don't know where to put it all. She is super attentive to me, but takes these long stretches alone." I confess.

"Sara, you're allowed to just take care of yourself through this. And Tegan can do the same. She's a big girl."

"I know, I am worried about her though. I just don't think I want to open the can of worms. She's a very emotional person, and once the lid's off, there's no putting it back on. I want to deal with me quickly, so I can make sure she's okay."

"This isn't a race. It's not a destination. This is going to take time and work and patience" she admitted.

"Can't you just like hypnotize me, work some therapist voodoo, and I can be okay?"

"I wish it were that easy".

I sighed. I hated this.

Tegan's POV

Sara'd been gone for about an hour. I was standing in our room, looking at the new bed that had just been delivered. I'd repainted the walls, and had new floors installed. We'd gotten new wardrobes, and I'd made sure the room was scrubbed head to toe of any traces. Sara still refused to walk in here. She was sleeping in the guest room.

I walked over to the brand new, newly made bed. I'd moved things around so it was in a completely different position. I fell onto it, on my back. I looked at the ceiling and just let the emotions overcome me. The tears flowed freely as I spaced out at the ceiling. I just wanted to fall asleep with her, in our bed, in our room. I just wanted to kiss her and hold her, and feel her heart beat against mine as her breath betrayed her peaceful state. I just wanted Sara back. But I respected her. I respected that she needs space. It sucks. I want to rub her tummy and think about my baby inside of her. She'd had horrible morning sickness the past week, and had started refusing to let me in the bathroom with her.

However, it was probably best that she didn't sleep in the same bed as me. Then she'd know that I don't sleep. I haven't slept all week. I tried, but the nightmares were too much. Every time I close my eyes, I can feel it happening again. Just thinking about it now, I feel my chest tighten. No, not again. I whimpered, and pulled my knees to my chest, my brow furrowing. My breath started coming shorter. In one week, I'd gotten everything I'd ever gotten, and had my world threaten to cave in, just like my chest right now.

The book said to try and even out your breathing. This is just a panic attack. I'm okay. I'm okay. But I wasn't. I could still feel the moment her esophagus caved in beneath my thumbs. I could still feel the snapping of her neck. I could still smell the blood. I could still see the light leave her eyes. I went catatonic at this point, no longer struggling against the memories, just leaving my mind for a bit. I did this at night. I just lay and stare at the ceiling, not really here. I stayed like that for hours, until I heard the front door open. I snapped back into myself and got up, to realize I had wet the bed. I quickly gathered the sheets and changed as I heard Sara mulling about the kitchen.

I put on the mask and walked out, meeting her in the kitchen.

"How was it?" I asked, acting like I hadn't just had a mental breakdown.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, looking through the mail. "It was." She said. "Hey, I'm gonna work the rest of the night, alright?" she asked.

I nodded. She'd been writing a lot lately. "I'm gonna paint the nursery, then put the crib together." I told her.

"See you at dinner?" she asked me.

I nodded, happy that she couldn't see my tear stained face and empty eyes through the mask. She put her head back down to the mail, and walked away. I sighed and walked into the spare room closest to ours. This would be the nursery. It has become my mission to get it prepared. When I'm working, I don't think about anything other than the baby. It's the only thing that's pure joy to me. The only thing untainted. I took off the mask, tossing it aside, and got to work.

I shook the can of paint, having already covered the floor in plastic and taped the trim. I opened it, and looked as the bubbles faded. I just stared at the paint. I lost myself in the popping of bubbles and the stillness of the liquid. When I finally came around, it was dark.

I looked over at the window and grit my teeth. I looked back down into the can of paint, and instead of the soft yellow I cognitively knew the paint was, it ran red, and thick as blood. I tried to shake off a flash of the laundry room that night, but image after image flooded in.

I lifted my hands to see them full of the stuff, and the horror washed over me. I grabbed the paint can and threw it at the wall with all my might. It was heavier than I'd expected, and I ended up dumping half on myself. I didn't care though. I ended up heaving breath, staring at the wall.

I slowly came around, and saw what I'd done. I listened for a moment and couldn't hear Sara coming. She must have the headphones on. I caught my breath and looked down at myself. The paint was yellow. I hit my knees, and let the panic take me over again before making my way to the shower, getting dressed, then starting on some dinner.

I watched as the steak sizzled in the pan. The jump of droplets of oil as it heated. I watched the steady flicker of the burner under the pan. I lost myself in that flame. It shown bright orange, yellow, red, blue as it licked the pan. I snapped out of it in time. I have to shake this off. I can't be doing this around her. She'll know something's up. I took a deep breath and shook my head, pushing it all down until later, when I could deal alone. I took the steak out of the pan and turned off the burner, walking into the room to grab the half mask I now wore during meals. I walked back into the kitchen and plated dinner. Just when I'd finished, Sara came upstairs and sat down.

"Hey" I said, trying to add some pep to my voice. "How'd it go?"

She sighed and smiled "Really well. This new album is going to be…therapeutic. I can't wait to hear what you've got for it."

I gulped. Me? Music? Oh yeah. That's my job. I've been avoiding that this week. I didn't dare venture downstairs, or into my study. I saw Sara's guitar in the hospital and felt my fingers twitch. My body wanted to play so badly, get it all out; but my brain couldn't deal with it. The moment I picked up a guitar it would all come flooding out. It always did. I ignored Sara's comment and speared some steak. She waited a few more moments, then realized that I wasn't going to say anything so she followed my cue.

We ate the rest of the meal in silence. I finished first and got up, leaving my plate, and walking away. I walked right into the nursery, like a robot, whipped off the mask, picked up a brush and started painting over the mess I'd made on the wall. I painted frantically, throwing myself into it. By the time Sara was knocking on the door, I had covered up my mess. I couldn't hear her though, lost in the rhythmic strokes of the brush. There was a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and came face to face with her. I immediately turned back around, covering my face.

"Sara! Fuck! I'm sorry…hand me my mask?" I asked, making sure to keep my face hidden.

She didn't say anything or move towards the mask. I felt a calloused hand on my wrist, pulling my hand away from my face. I fought it.
"No. Don't" I told her.

She ignored me, and before I knew it: I was looking Sara in the eye. I felt my heart melt as her eyes searched mine. She reached out, and gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Tegan, it's okay." She smiled, like she realized that it really was.

She was looking at my face and was okay. But me, I was trying so hard to keep everything just below the surface. Her hand cupped my cheek and her expression changed. She looked lost.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I gulped and forced a shaky nod.

"Tegan, don't you dare lie to me! I can see it in your eyes. Talk to me."

She ran a hand through my hair as I felt my heart tighten, the panic nipping at my heels. I let out a shaky breath as she waited.

"Babe, come one. I can see it in your eyes. Please."

That's when the single tear fell against my will. I grit my teeth as it trickled down my cheek. Sara's gaze fixed on it, and I turned away.

I heard Sara sigh and start to walk out of the room. I couldn't bear to look up. She stopped before walking completely out.

"You can leave the masks off now. I'm okay. I want to be able to see your face." She told me, before walking out.

The moment the door closed, I gasped, trying desperately to suck air as I collapsed to my hands and knees. I pressed my forehead against the floor and tried to just breathe, tried to slow my heart. My body convulsed, muscles twitching. Every muscle in my body tensed, then finally relaxed, and I slowly started to get back to normal.

Sara's POV

I walked back downstairs, into the studio. I sat in the office chair and put my cheek in my palm. Her eyes. I hadn't really looked into them until that moment. How long had she been gone? It was like there was a void there. And yet, so much pain. I then reminded myself of Tegan's predicament. I mean, I knew she was hurting but…that was more than just pain. That was…it was unbearable to look at her like that. I can't help shake the feeling that she's keeping something from me.

It must be hard seeing me, and with the lawsuit. I bet this is horrible for her.

Tegan's POV

So much blood. Just, everywhere. Why can't I stop feeling it in my hands? Why do I remember every little noise, an every little tactile sensation of it?

Sara's POV

Just horrible.

Tegan's POV

Sara has no idea. How do I even begin to tell her that I'm a murderer?