Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1182466.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Shameless_(US)
  Relationship:
      Mandy_Milkovich/OC, Ian_Gallagher/Mickey_Milkovich
  Character:
      Mickey_Milkovich, Mandy_Milkovich, Terry_Milkovich, Original_Female
      Character, Ian_Gallagher, Original_Male_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Drug_Use, Mentions_of_Rape, Domestic_Violence, Dubious_Consent,
      Flashbacks
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-02-13 Completed: 2014-02-27 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 37535
****** When One Door Closes, Another Opens and All That Shit ******
by magneticdice, stitchandrepair
Summary
     Mandy had always been the most optimistic Milkovich, but things don't
     always go the way you want them to. Eventually, life catches up to
     you, and sometimes it effing sucks, despite how many good thoughts
     you think. (This is an AU; Ian & Mickey haven’t really met yet.)
Notes
     This story will be told in 4 parts, each from a different
     perspective, followed by an epilogue (but it’s a Gallavich fic in the
     end, because there’s gotta be a silver lining to all this angst).
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Mandy *****
Chapter 1: Mandy
Mandy woke up to the muffled sound of the Jeopardy theme song coming from the
living room. She tried to lift her head up, but it was too heavy. Her brain
rattled around in her skull, her tongue felt thick in her mouth. She sank back
into her pillow, the faded smell of sweat and smoke filling her nostrils, as
her energy seeped out of her pores and left her empty.Lately she didn't have
the strength to do anything, not even that one, tiny thing. Her days had all
tumbled into one to the point where she couldn't separate one day from the next
and all she wanted to do was sleep again–fade into a world where her life was
different–escaping to a place where she felt safe and happy.Mandy rolled her
head to the side and opened her eyes a sliver. Sheblinked until her eyes could
make out shapes in the darkness.The space beside her was still empty, cold and
untouched. She let out a breath, weak and wheezy even to her own ears and her
eyelids slid shut again, of their own accord.
~ ~ ~
“Please don't...” she whispered. Her voice was coarse from lack of use and her
face was covered in a mixture of tears and caked on make-up. Her hair was a
greasy, tangled mess and she couldn't remember the last time she'd showered.
She scratched at the skin on her arm, blue veins looking dark against her skin,
pale and cold. She wiped her nose against the heel of her hand and watched in
horror from her side of the bed as Spencer tore the drawers open and threw his
clothes into a black, oversized garbage bag, stray socks and underwear falling
to the ground.
He looked up at her, his eyes cold and hard, and laughed with malice thick in
his throat. Mandy flinched and cowered slightly into the mattress, trying to
cover her face as his expression hardened.
“You're such a dumb fucking bitch,” he spat, the bag gripped tightly in his
hand, his knuckles turning white as he pointed a finger at her, sharp and
accusing. He inched closer to her face and Mandy couldn’t bring herself to look
at him. “Did you really think I wouldn't find out you used it all yourself?”
She tried to get up, tried to stop him from leaving, but she couldn't move. She
tried to cry out to him and tell him that she was sorry and please, stay, but
her mouth wouldn’t move. Her limbs felt as heavy as boulders and her eyes felt
too tired. The heroin was still in her system, coursing through her veins, and
even though the euphoria had worn off an hour ago, she could still feel
it–could feel the itching beneath her skin as her body began to crave it once
again and she still didn't have the energy to leave the bed.
Spencer watched her struggle and shook his head at her, his top lip tugging
into a sneer as he bit out the word “pathetic,” under his breath, his teeth
clenched.
She could feel tears on her face as she lay there, curled in on herself, but
her mind was blank as she watched him finish bagging his things and leave the
room. She heard him slam the front door of the Milkovich house and felt the
vibrations shudder the walls around her. She lay there, unblinking, as the dark
silhouette of her daughter peered into her bedroom from the hallway.
Ally slowly crept towards the bed, her tiny frame looking drowned under an old
skull-and-crossbones t-shirt of Mickey’s, and she sat beside Mandy. She put her
little hand on Mandy's cheek and ran her thumb across Mandy’s pimpled skin as
she wiped away the tears that were still running.
“Don't cry, Mommy. I'll take care of you...”
Mandy opened her mouth and tried to form words, but none came out. Instead, she
shut her eyes and willed the tears to stop.
~ ~ ~
Spencer had left over a month ago, but each time she woke up, she would tell
herself it was just a dream–that he hadn't really left. She would open her eyes
and really expect him to be right there, looking back at her with his big,
hazel eyes, making her feel safe and loved and less alone. He had come into her
life when she had needed him most–when she’d been lonely, struggling and broke.
Spencer had provided her with everything she had ever needed, no matter what
anyone else thought.
~ ~ ~
Mandy had been doing overnights at the club for four months before Spencer
started working the door. Until then she had sought affection from where she
could get it, but nobody had truly held her attention. It was raining the first
night she saw him. He was standing at the entrance to the club and he had
smiled at her when he saw her, his eyes friendly and his grin wide. Mandy’s
skirt was soaked through, clinging to her thighs, and her hair was a long
tangle of wet locks. Even though her eyeliner had begun to smudge, she smiled
at him as he waved her through the door and for the first time in a long time
she felt butterflies as he ran his eyes over her. Spencer was like nobody she
had ever seen before. She found herself searching for him on her breaks during
the club, trying to catch a glimpse of him. He wastall, broad-shouldered, with
olive skin that complemented his dark brown hair and muscles that threatened to
stretch out his black ‘Security’ v-neck; she was instantly drawn to him. She
hadn’t dated anyone since Ally was born–she never had the time–but now that
Mickey was back in the house, she felt like she finally had a touch of freedom.
That night she found herself taking cigarette breaks every hour, searching him
out and making sure to stand where Spencer would have the perfect view of her
ass in the tight, black mini-skirt that all of the girls were required to wear.
By the time the sky darkened and the customers started to flow in, the rain had
cleared up and the air was warm, which suited her just fine since all she had
on was the skirt and a white tank-top, sans bra. He always smiled whenever he
caught her eye and she found herself smiling back. His eyes would linger and
Mandy did everything to keep his attention, bending down as seductively as she
knew how, picking up the lighter that had conveniently 'dropped' to the ground.
When she stood back up and looked over at Spencer, he was biting his lip, his
eyes trailing up her body and she felt a smile pull at her lips and had to turn
away from him as it grew wider, a warm, happy buzz spreading through her body.
“Damn, girl,” he let out a low whistle and laid a hand over his stomach,
bunching the fabric of his shirt between his fingers and Mandy looked back at
him, grinning in what felt like triumph. Catcalls and whistles were something
she usually found herself rolling her eyes at, thinking of construction workers
on the street eyeballing her and making her skin prickle in disgust, but not
with Spencer. Spencer's attention only made her feel great. As she walked by
him to once again re-enter the club, she made sure to brush up against him,
goose bumps forming on her skin as he brushed his hand over her hip.
In the nights that followed, Mandy found herself looking forward to work.
Conversations with Spencer were kept short, asking for a light or asking for
him to tuck in the tag of her jacket. Every time they touched–his hand cupping
over hers to light her cigarette, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her
neck, she felt herself smiling, electricity crackling under her skin. It wasn’t
long before Spencer began walking her to the El after closing, and inviting her
home with him not much longer after that.
Being with Spencer was like nothing Mandy had ever experienced. He was always
on the move, he had huge plans for his future and he would talk to her for
hours. He treated her like no one else in her life ever had–he made Mandy feel
like a princess–taking her out to dinner and introducing her to his friends,
sometimes even picking her up for work. In the beginning, he didn’t even mind
that she had a daughter.
A couple of weeks after they got to know each other, Mandy went out for her
hourly cigarette. She was worked up, frustrated from the old, rich guys of the
North Side thinking it was okay to perv over her while looking down on her. The
temperature had soared and Mandy's clothes were sticking uncomfortably to her
skin, her hair matting to her forehead, slick with sweat.
She got to the doorway and Spencer was standing with another guy, their heads
bent close, their shoulders hunched together. She called out his name and both
men lifted their heads up, startled. The guy made a quick exit, pocketing a
handful of money. Spencer’s head whipped around to face her, eyes wide before
his lips turned up into his most charming grin. His smile grew at the sight of
the frustrated look on her face and Mandy felt her bad mood soothe at the sight
of him.
"Babe, you look like you could use a pick-me-up."
Her eyebrows rose in confusion and Spencer ran his tongue over his bottom lip
before grabbing her hand and pulling her into the bathroom. She laughed as he
tugged her into one of the cubicles, slamming the door shut behind them. He
pushed her against the stall door, enveloping her as he leant in and kissed
her, his teeth raking over her lips. Mandy couldn't catch her breath as her
heart beat wildly in her chest. Her fingers curled into his shirt and he ground
his hips into hers before he pulled his head away. She leaned back in to kiss
him, but he arched his neck away, still smiling at her, and that's when she
noticed it: his pupils were blown; his smile was too bright. She smirked as she
pulled him into her once again, her long fingers reaching into the pocket of
his trousers, fishing out a small white baggie before she dangled it in front
of him. His hand was on her hip, holding tight enough to leave a mark and he
was grinning at her, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.
"You going to join me up here?" he asked, dipping his head to her throat,
biting down over the point of her pulse and her heart began to beat even harder
in her chest. She looked at him, a sinking feeling in her stomach and she
suddenly doubted everything, but then he smiled at her. That same smile that
had drawn her in in the first place, the smile that made her feel like the only
girl in the world and all doubts were shoved from her mind. She pulled open the
baggie and scooped out some of the powder onto her pinky finger, hesitating for
only a second before she brought it to her nose and sniffed.
Spencer kissed his way back up to her mouth and Mandy couldn't stop smiling.
For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was great. The noise
of the nightclub, the worries of bills and rent and raising a daughter all
slipped away from her as she pulled Spencer in closer to her.
Her mind buzzed with the coke in her system and her skin tingled as Spencer's
hand snaked higher up her skirt and Mandy felt, for the first time ever, like
she could conquer the world.
~ ~ ~
The door to her bedroom creaked open and Mandy opened her eyes as Ally walked
in with a plate and a glass of water. Mandy tried to sit up, to speak, to move,
to do anything at all, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything. Ally
knelt on the floor beside her and placed the glass on the bedside table, the
sound too loud to Mandy’s ears. She picked up the piece of toast and pressed it
to Mandy’s dry, cracked lips.
“Try to eat, Mommy,” she urged. “You needa eat somethin’ or you’ll get sick
again.”
Mandy could smell the contents before Ally even brought it into her line of
sight. She stench of the burnt bread combined with too much butter overwhelmed
her and made her stomach churn. Mandy turned her head away from the food so
that she was staring at the ceiling. The paint was peeling from years of water
damage. She got lost in the brown, circular stains...
“You didn’t eat anythin’ today…” Ally whispered, persistent to a fault.
“Please…?”
~ ~ ~
It was really late (or really early, depending on how you looked at it) when
Mandy and Spencer walked into her house. Mickey was sitting on the couch
watching TV, and since Mandy didn’t see Ally around, she assumed that the girl
was asleep in Mickey’s bed again.
Mickey glared at Spencer as they walked past him and into her bedroom.
“I don’t like the way your brother keeps lookin’ at me–like he wants to start
shit.”
“That’s how Mickey looks at everyone,” she explained with a smile, pushing him
down onto the bed. She kissed him, starting at his neck and moving down the
rest of his body. Spencer’s grievances with Mickey were forgotten for the time
being.
“Jesus! Close the damn door!” Mickey said in disgust on his way to the
bathroom. “Nobody wants to see that shit!”
In the heat of the moment, they’d forgotten that they weren’t exactly alone in
the house.
Spencer shoved Mandy off of him, voice escalating. “Mind your own fucking
business or I will knock your teeth down your Goddamn throat.”
“Baby, relax…” Mandy cooed in an effort to diffuse the situation. She reached
for his hand but he batted her away.
“Don’t tell me to fucking relax!” Shouting now, Spencer got up off the bed and
moved towards Mickey, who’d stopped in his tracks once Mandy’s boyfriend had
threatened him. Mickey cracked his knuckles in anticipation.
They boys got in each other’s space and stared each other down. The fact that
Spencer towered over Mickey did nothing to lessen her brother’s intimidating
presence. Mandy wanted to intervene but she was stuck, mesmerized by the
tension that had grown so suddenly to the point where she could feel it in the
air. It reminded her of what it was like growing up in their house‒the same,
endless tension had been ever-present back when Terry was living there, her
family always on the verge of exploding into chaos.
A cry from Mickey’s bedroom rang out like the clanging chimes of a bell in the
silence. Their shouting had woken Ally up.
“Of course the fucking brat has to wake up. Just perfect,” Spencer muttered. He
grabbed his shirt off the bed and put it back on over his head. “I’m out.” And
he left.
“Nice choice there, Mands. Real classy.”
She scowled at Mickey. “What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have to go
and ruin everything for me?”
“Is that what you think I’m doing here? Ruining things?” He rubbed his bottom
lip with the side of his thumb. “You know what? How ‘bout you fucking take care
of your own kid tonight?”
He walked out, leaving Mandy sitting alone on her bed.
A couple of minutes later, Ally walked in, favorite stuffed animal in tow.
“Mommy’s alone.” She was perceptive for a three year-old. “No Spen-cer,” she
added, struggling to get his name right.
“No, baby. No Spencer.”
“Ally sleep with Mommy,” she said, climbing onto Mandy’s bed. She snuggled up
against Mandy and put the teddy bear between them. Mandy pulled the blanket
over them and ran her fingers through Ally’s straight, black hair until they
both fell asleep.
~ ~ ~
Mandy managed to lift a hand and push Ally’s offered toast away.
It took a lot of energy but she somehow got her voice to work. “Get out of
here,” she told Ally. Her voice cracked, breaking off into nothing more than a
rasp. “You should be doing homework, not watching TV.”
She didn't mean for it to sound cruel but that's how it came out. She didn't
want her daughter to be a fuck-up like she was. She wanted her to have a future
and an education, to be better than she ever was. That’s what she had always
wanted. Mandy cuddled into her pillow, clung to it as if it offered her comfort
and tried not to think of all the ways that she had gone wrong.
~ ~ ~
She didn't start showing until she was five months along. She could handle the
stares and the hushed gossip as she walked down the halls. She could deal with
seeing “Mandy Skankovich” scribbled on the bathroom stalls. She could even cope
with the girls she'd thought were her friends always getting quiet and ending
their conversations when she entered the classroom. What she couldn't stand was
the way everyone, including her teachers, looked down on her. Just because she
was pregnant didn't mean she couldn't fucking learn like the rest of them. And
who did they think they were? Fucking Gallaghers and Jacksons and Herkimers
looking down on her ? Judging her ? Fuck that. She decided then that she would
go back to school after Ally was born, no matter what. She would show them that
she wasn’t some stereotypical, poor, white-trash, pregnant teenager.
She would  have a future.
~ ~ ~
She watched Ally exit the room with her head hung low, leaving the plate and
the water behind.
She felt so alone. Everyone in her life had left her. Her friends, Spencer, her
dad, her brothers, even Mickey. EspeciallyMickey.
She missed him so fucking much.
~ ~ ~
It was really easy in the beginning. All the baby did was eat, burp, shit and
sleep. In fact, she was such a good baby that Mandy was able to go back to
school while Mickey watched Ally during the day. It wasn't even expensive: they
used Mandy's old baby clothes from the basement, breast-milk was free, and all
the Milkoviches helped by stealing diapers, which Ally went through like there
was no tomorrow.
That all changed one afternoon when Mandy came home and found Mickey's limp
body slumped against the living room sofa. She could hear Ally crying from
inside her bedroom, but ran to Mickey first to check if he was alive. His
breaths were shallow and she fought to look at his face without gagging. He'd
been beaten so badly that his eyes were swollen shut, purple hand-prints
wrapped around his neck, and blood still seeping from open gashes along his
brow, cheeks and lips.
“Mickey!” she shouted, pulling him up by his shoulders and shaking him to get
his attention. “Mickey! Wake up!”
He started to stir.
“Oh, thank God! What the fuck happened?”
Mickey groaned out something unintelligible, and Mandy decided he was okay for
the time being. She ran to her bedroom to soothe her screaming daughter. Ally
was sitting up in the old, half-broken crib, banging her tiny little hands
against the bars. Mandy picked up the little girl and cradled her in her arms.
She reached into her shirt and popped out her boob.
“When was the last time you fed her?” she asked her brother accusingly once
Ally had calmed down and latched on.
Mickey had stumbled to the bathroom was tentatively poking his face with the
corner of a wet washcloth. He winced when he touched a particularly bloody cut.
“Dad came home 'round noon,” he said, coughing. He spit blood and what Mandy
was sure was a tooth into the sink.
“Fucking hell, Mickey. What'd you do to piss him offthistime?”
Mickey glared at her but didn't answer her question. He went into his room and
Mandy followed, still feeding Ally. Mickey dragged a duffel bag out from under
his bed and started throwing random shit into it.
“What are you doing?”
He ignored her and continued packing clothes into the bag.
“Mickey, what the fuck are you doing?”
He sighed, let the bag go and finally looked her in the eye. “Mandy... I can't
stay here anymore.”
“What?”
“I'm sorry. I would'a left months ago if it weren't for Ally anyway” he said.
He reached out and touched the baby's head gently. She was only eight months
old but her black hair was already long enough for Mandy to put little clips
into it.
“Where the hell're you gonna go?”
He shook his head but she could tell he instantly regretted it by the way he
grabbed his head and leaned against the dresser to regain his balance.
“I'll call you once I'm settled,” he told her.
“Whatever...” she muttered as she stormed out of the room, the implications of
his departure suddenly too much for her to deal with. If Mickey left, she would
have to drop out...
She didn't wait to watch him leave. Ally needed a diaper change anyway. He left
without saying goodbye.
~ ~ ~
She was alone again… but it hadn’t always been that way.
She thought about the time right after Mickey left. Mandy had quickly learned
the secret to keeping her dad from getting too plastered was keeping him happy
with a steady supply of alcohol, that way, he wouldn’t get angry enough to
overdo it.
She would never forget how she had spent her days taking care of Ally and the
rest of her family. She’d basically stepped into the role of being a “mom.”
She’d done everyone’s laundry and had cooked their meals. Iggy and Joey were
rarely home, opting to spend their nights with friends or girlfriends,
respectively. She couldn’t for the life of her believe that someone had
actually wanted to date Joey, but she’d been glad that he was happy. If the
only downside of Mickey leaving was that she didn’t get to go to school, she’d
told herself that she could survive. At least things at home had been
decent‒she hadn’t been completely alone: she still had Ally and her dad.
She recalled how everyone loved Ally: her brothers, her dad, even their
neighbors and strangers at the store. She’d been such a good baby. She’d rarely
cried and could keep herself more than entertained while Mandy cleaned the
house or cooked. She had already been stringing words together before she
turned one. She had been, and still was, brilliant when it came to using
electronics; she could turn the TV on with her tiny, pudgy hands and change the
channels until she found cartoons. All she had to do was watch Mandy do
something once, and she would be able to do it on her own.
Mandy remembered how she’d gotten a call from Mickey on Ally’s first birthday.
He had refused to tell her where he was, but had said that he was safe and that
he’d found a job that paid enough for rent, food and cigarettes, and that was
all he needed. He’d given her his new cell number, and after many threats on
Mandy’s part, had promised to call her often… except he hadn’t.
Around the time when Ally was eighteen months old, Terry had gotten caught
violating his probation. He’d been unable to wriggle his way out of trouble
with a false alibi or well-placed bribe and had been sent back to prison
without a chance of parole. It hadn’t taken long for Mandy to feel the affects
of not having her dad home. The empty house was hard to get used to but it was
secondary to the fact that the fridge and cupboards were quickly emptying.
Mandy grimaced at the memory of realizing that Terry had actually been useful
for something, no matter how questionable the source of his income had been…
Mandy had needed to get a job, but she couldn’t do that with no one else at
home to watch Ally. The silver lining to her dad being incarcerated yet again
was that she’d called Mickey and pleaded with him to come back home.
He’d agreed, and Mandy would have been kidding herself if she’d thought for one
minute that Mickey had returned for anyone other than Ally. He loved Ally more
than he loved Snickers bars, beer and trashy daytime TV and that was saying a
lot. Mickey had kept whatever job he’d gotten while he’d been away, but had
watched Ally at nights so that Mandy could work too.
Mickey had stayed with them until Ally turned five‒the year she’d started
using.
She missed her brothers. She missed Mickey. And sometimes, when she felt like
this, alone and empty, she even missed Terry.
~ ~ ~
“Tell me who it is Mandy.” Terry’s voice came from outside her bedroom door,
his words jumbled, blending together in his drunken state. His breathing was
heavy enough that she could hear it from the other side of the door and her
skin prickled at the sound. “Tell me and I’ll pay him a visit with the boys.”
He hiccupped and she could hear the sound of a bottle clinking against her
door. “Nobody messes wit' m'baby girl 'n gets away wi'it!” Terry slurred as he
banged outside her bedroom door.
Mandy fought the urge to cry, a lump building like shards of glass in her
throat; she didn't want her dad to see how much his words hurt. “I already told
you who's baby this is,” she said, hugging her knees tighter to her chest, her
voice almost a whisper.
It wasn't the first time they were having this conversation, and it wouldn't be
the last. Each time Terry got drunk enough to badger her about it, she would
tell her dad the truth about the baby, but he wouldn't believe her. He would
get furious and drink himself into such a stupor that he would forget again,
the horror of what he’d done to his only daughter a lost memory in his alcohol-
soaked brain.
~ ~ ~
She tried to sit up, her body sluggish as a pang of hunger struck her stomach.
She managed to move upright, the collar of her sweater sliding down her
shoulder, her eyes stinging as they adjusted to the light peeking in from her
bedroom door where it had been left ajar. Her body physically ached and her
stomach growled as she rooted through her purse. One last hit, she promised
herself. It's just one time. She'd get clean tomorrow. It was her constant
promise to herself, for her and for Ally. Always tomorrow.
~ ~ ~
“You can’t keep fucking up and expect us to go on supporting you,” Mickey
griped for the hundredth time. “This coke shit has gotta stop.” He waved the
tiny bag he’d taken from her drawer in front of her face and pulled it away
quickly when Mandy tried to snatch it back.
“You went through my things?” she shot back, outraged.
Disapproval was more than apparent on Mickey’s face. “Don’t change the fucking
subject. We all agreed to ante up for the mortgage, and this is the third
fucking time you’ve spent your share on this shit!” He tossed the baggie onto
the ground in frustration and Mandy fell to her knees to grab it before Mickey
could do any real damage.
She looked up at him once the bag was safely tucked into her pocket and felt a
wave of guilt wash over her. “Okay!” she said, appeasingly. “Okay… Okay. I
will. I’ll stop tomorrow. I promise.”
“Not fucking tomorrow, Mandy! Now! Today! You need to cut this shit out! I
might have expected this from Iggy or Joey, but not from you…”
He sighed, making a visible effort to calm down. “I’m not dad and I’m not gonna
tell you what to do. Fuck… We all use something or other once in a while... but
ever since you started dating Spencer, it’s like something’s changed in you.
You need to think about how what you do affects Ally!”
He continued talking and trying to reason with her but Mandy had lost it when
he’d blamed Spencer. She hadn’t heard anything else Mickey had said after that.
The fight that followed was one of the worst ones she’d ever had with Mickey,
and she would still see red every time she thought of it.
~ ~ ~
Emptying the contents of her purse onto the bed, she found nothing. Not even
any pennies. She felt tears once again prick at her eyes as the pain in her
stomach worsened. She pulled one knee to her chest and rocked gently, trying to
ease it. She squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering as quietly as she could and
tried to count down from ten; anything to distract herself.
She cried as she collapsed down onto the floor, rummaging through the stray
clothes, half finished plates of food and tin foil wraps. She pulled out
everything under her bed, yanked the drawers from the dresser, and she still
came up with nothing. Not a penny. She dragged her hand over her face, wiping
away snot and stray eyelashes still clumped together with mascara. She didn’t
even notice the mess she had made in her frantic search for cash. After all,
she was a Milkovich: she was used to the constant disorder. It wasn’t the best
environment for a child, but fuck, the rest of them had survived, and so would
Ally.
~ ~ ~
“I'm pregnant.”
She hadn't planned on just spitting it out like that, but her brothers had been
pressuring her to drink all night, and she was tired of coming up with excuses.
Drinking while pregnant was definitely not something she was going to do. She
wasn't going to fuck up her baby before it even had a chance in the world,
despite the fact that it was going to be a Milkovich.
“What the fuck do you mean, 'you're pregnant'?” Mickey spat.
She avoided looking any of her brothers in the eye. “Exactly what it sounds
like...”
“Who's the father?” Iggy shouted from the opposite side of the living room.
“That's none of your fucking business,” Mandy shot back. It really wasn't
anyone's business but hers, and she sure as hell wasn't going to tell her big-
mouthed brothers anything they didn't need to know.
“You keepin' it?” The question came from Joey. She wasn't surprised that he'd
ask her something like that. She glanced up at her brother and she could see
the concern etched on his face, worries of having history repeating itself,
worries of her fucking her kid up like their parents fucked them up. She folded
her arms across her stomach and was silently thankful he hadn’t put voice to
his concern.
“You got six hundred bucks lying around?” That was how much Planned Parenthood
had told her the abortion would cost when she'd called them a couple of days
ago. Apparently the further along she was, the more expensive it got.
They were all quiet. She was fine with that. She had already decided to keep
the baby.
“Better hide the guns now,” Iggy teased, finally breaking the silence. “Don’t
want the kid getting all psycho on us too early!” He and Joey raised their
beers in a quick toast before resuming their argument over which Ninja Turtle
was the biggest bad-ass.
Mickey didn’t join them in their debate. Instead, he carefully watched Mandy,
deep in thought. She could tell he didn’t think she’d be able to handle having
a baby. She was going to prove him wrong. She would figure out a way to do it.
She could do anything if she set her mind to it...
~ ~ ~
Mandy reached up onto the bed for her phone before she pulled herself up to sit
with her back against the bed. Fingers shaking, she shut one eye as she tried
to focus on the screen of her cell, the light too bright, too harsh, for her
eyes that hadn't seen daylight in a while. She chewed on her lip, biting off
some of the cracked skin between her teeth and she ran her long, skinny fingers
over the outline of her face. Her cheekbones were more prominent than ever, the
skin under her eyes felt paper thin and she could never seem to get warm
anymore. She was always cold. The phone rang and rang in her ear and she only
felt the lump in her throat loosen when he answered.
He cursed at her when she spoke, his voice gruff as if she'd woken him and for
a moment she wondered what the time was, what the day was. She asked, pleaded,
her voice weak and pathetic to her own ears, for him to come over and for a
moment she thought she heard laughter in his voice as he told her he'd be there
soon. But she didn't care. Because it was just one last time, she'd never have
to deal with him after this. Just one more hit.
Mandy hung up, a cold, clammy sweat starting as she climbed back into her bed
and sunk back into her mattress. The cramps clenched at her stomach and she
tried taking several short breaths to ease them, but nothing worked. She rocked
back and forth, back and forth, her fingers itching and a sinking feeling of
uneasiness washing over her. Whimpering sounds were coming from somewhere and
they sounded too loud in her ears. Her skin prickled and her clothes felt too
heavy on her body. It took a while for her to realize that the whimpering
sounds were coming from her.
As her moans of discomfort and her shaking became worse she thought she saw a
small shadow in the doorway, wide, owlish eyes filled with worry blinking at
her from behind her teddy bear.
"Go. Away," Mandy bit out and just before she buried her face to muffle her
pained screams into the pillow she heard the pitter patter of footsteps as Ally
ran back into the living room.
~ ~ ~
“Are you fucking crazy?” Spencer screamed into her face, spit hitting her
cheeks as he grabbed hold of her by her thin, frail shoulders. He shook her as
if to emphasize his point, but Mandy barely felt it, too lost in her thoughts.
“What the fuck were you thinking letting your brothers go talk to Marcus?”
“I- I didn’t know…” she could barely hear her own voice and Spencer looked at
her with wide eyes, his eyebrows knitted together. His grip on her shoulders
tightened.
“What?!” he screamed again, and Mandy tried not to flinch.
“I didn’t know they were gonna go see him,” Mandy said, voice a tiny fraction
louder. She was still in shock, her mind numb. Still unable to process the
entirety of what had just happened.
She had tried, she really had. She tried to stop using coke again, just like
she had promised Mickey, but Spencer had come by the night before and put her
struggles to waste. She had tried to resist, but her whole body itched for it,
her head clouded with a desperate need for it and she had promised herself just
one final blow out. She had promised herself it would all change tomorrow. She
had gotten the call from Mickey just a few minutes before Spencer’s arrival.
She couldn’t understand how he’d heard about it.
Mandy gaped at Spencer, eyes wide. “How… how did you know?”
Her brothers had tried to help her in the only way they knew how. Mickey and
Iggy had gone to talk to Mandy’s dealer behind her back, to try and reason with
him. Mickey had told her that things had gone south, the dealers saw them as
threats. Her brothers’ presence had been mistaken for a power play by Terry and
they weren’t happy about it.
Iggy had been shot; it didn’t look like he was going to make it.
Mandy looked up at Spencer, her eyes blank as Mickey’s words still echoed in
her ear. She wanted to cry, wanted to break down and just sob until everything
bad went away. She wanted Iggy to be okay, she wanted Mickey to forgive her.
She wanted a fix. Every nerve in her body trembled for a hit, her bones ached
for it. An image of Iggy lying in a hospital bed filled her mind and she fought
back a sob. Iggy was shot‒no,dying‒because of her… because they’d tried to fix
her mistakes… because they’d tried to help her... Iggy had been shot because of
her.
Her mouth fell open in realization, a strangled noise leaving her throat. The
guilt hit her like a ten tonne truck and it was only Spencer’s grip on her
shoulders that stopped her from falling.
“Marcus just came by to see me. He was pissed, sayin’ he had enough shit to
deal with. Warned me that his dad didn’t have time to waste on Milkovich
trash.”
He spat the words at her, his lips turned up in a sneer and she couldn't take
it. Mandy fell to her knees, the guilt causing a physical ache in the pit of
her stomach, the weight of what had happened finally weighing her down. Her
body was shaking, the emotional pain expressing itself physically. She cried
out but the scream was so deep that there was no sound. Iggy was dying.
Spencer... she couldn't have him leave her too. She needed him. She reached
out, tears blinding her vision, seeking help, searching for something or
someone to fix it‒fix her. Her fingers met Spencer’s leg and she practically
clawed at it, straining for contact, pulling him closer, clinging to him. He
was her liferaft in a tumultuous sea of pandemonium.
Spencer resisted, his muscles tensing beneath her hands and Mandy heard herself
begging, pleading with him not to go, to stay, please. Her voice came out raw,
choked out and thick with emotion. The guilt was drowning her and she needed
him, needed Spencer to make her forget about all of it. He always helped her to
forget. She felt him pull back from her and she sobbed, her hands reaching out
for him. He knelt beside her and relief swam around in her brain, a harsh,
happy feeling that she clung to in the same way a scared child clings to its
mother, as the guilt threatened to take her under. He put a hand on her
shoulder to let her feel that he was there, fingers stroking along the skin of
her shoulder, sending energy that spread like electricity round her body from
each spot his fingers made contact. That feeling was almost like a drug itself.
She ran her hands along his shoulders, over the skin of his neck, anywhere she
could reach and he pressed his fingers harder into her shoulder, murmuring
promises to her, telling her it'll be okay, he'll make it okay. She tried to
smile at him but she couldn't. She wiped away the tears and dug her fingers
into the back of Spencer's neck as he tried to move; as if without him, without
his physical presence, she would crumble. He shushed her comfortingly, stroking
her hair as he pulled out of her grip.
"It's okay" he said quietly and she nodded, trying to calm her rapid breathing.
She felt like a balloon was inflating in her chest, not leaving her with enough
room to breathe, and she thought she finally understood what people meant when
they talked about guilt eating away at you. She felt raw, as if she'd been
ripped open, and all she wanted was for Spencer to sew her back together again.
“I know what will help,” he cooed softly into her ear, his fingers now tangled
in her hair, scratching soothingly along the back of her scalp.
She sniffed, her eyes on him as he reached for something in his jacket pocket.
He smiled at her, the charming smile that had won her over in the first place.
The smile that made her think of stolen moments in bathroom cubicles and walks
under the El. The smile that made her feel wanted, safe and protected from all
the bad things in the world. He smiled and for a moment she felt like she could
breathe again. Spencer pulled out what Mandy thought was a makeup bag, but as
he unzipped it, she saw a long tube, metal spoon and lighter amongst its other
contents.
She knew what it was that Spencer was offering her. She had grown up playing on
floors littered with burnt spoons and used needles; she had spent days off of
school playing the nurse to Mickey's injured patient; had performed pretend
amputees with a long tube just like the one Spencer now held in his hands.
She knew what Spencer was offering her. Memories of her mother passed out on
the couch formed in Mandy's mind, needle marks in her arm and looking more
peaceful and happy than anyone had ever seen her, but Mandy was also struck
with a gut-wrenching need to wash away her own guilt. She found herself begging
Spencer to help her. “Yes baby, please…” she told him as he put the powder onto
the spoon.
~ ~ ~
After a minute her stomach settled, became almost manageable and Mandy sobbed
at how empty she suddenly felt. She cried out for her brother, her voice
cracking as she punched her fist into the pillow. She missed him so fucking
much. She missed all of them, but she knew that if they were here she would
only send them away. She hated that anyone had to see her like this. Her body
ached for a fix and all she could think of was her life before this.
Before drugs and before Spencer, when her house was a home filled with boys
that smoked too much and made too much noise. It used to drive her crazy–the
mess and the noise–but she wanted it now more than anything. She hated being
alone, hated having nobody to wake up to, and she wished that Ally was enough.
Ally should have been enough, but Mandy wasn't good at having somebody
dependant on her. She needed looking after, she always had, and no one was
around to do that anymore. Mandy had sent them all away and now she was all on
her own.
As the pain and the cravings took ahold of her body it felt like it was ripping
her from the inside out. Mandy hadn't had pains this intense since the day she
gave birth on her bed all those years ago.
~ ~ ~
She didn't go to any check-ups or appointments. She told people that she wanted
to do things the old fashioned way, like before they had all that fancy
equipment. She told people It wasn't like they could afford a maternity ward
room anyway... but the truth was she couldn't handle the constant questions
about the father, the judgemental looks because of her age and people poking
their noses into her business.
Her water broke when she got up to pee in the middle of the night, a twinge of
pain spreading through her back like knives. None of the boys were home and her
dad was still passed out on the couch. She tried to keep herself calm, focused
on her breathing and trying to be quiet so that Terry wouldn't wake up. She
whimpered through every contraction, leaning against the bathroom sink as she
tried to breathe through them. She got a mop and wiped up the mess on the floor
as best as she could, counting the minutes between her contractions like she
had learned from a TV show on Bravo. She read online that it could be hours
before the baby was ready to come, and that was no exaggeration. The next few
hours were spent pacing around the house, leaning forward on whatever surface
she could find and rocking back and forth whenever she felt a contraction
coming.
Her hair was matted to her head and she was sweaty and flushed by the time
Mickey came home. It was light out when he arrived and he had dark circles
under his eyes like he hadn't slept for weeks. Mickey freaked when he saw the
state of Mandy holding herself up on the kitchen counter, her breathing erratic
and her face contorted in pain. She yelled at him to help her and, stubbing his
cigarette out on the wall, Mickey grabbed their shower curtain off its rod and
set it on her bed, helping her walk over to it and then laying her down, making
her as comfortable as he knew how.
With less than a minute between each contraction, Mickey held her hand, looking
wild-eyed and scared as she gasped from the pain, her whole body seizing up
every time another one hit. He practiced the quick breaths along with her and
she cried out as the baby finally made her way into the world.
Everyone had told her that she would forget the pain of labor as soon as she
held her baby in her arms. Whoever said that was a fucking liar. Mandy would
never forget that feeling of her whole body seizing up during each contraction,
one right after the other, barely having enough time to breathe before the next
one hit. She would never forget that she actually felt herself tear open when
the baby finally came out with one final push, or that she continued having
contractions for the afterbirth even after Mickey had put the screaming, towel-
wrapped, purple, sticky bundle on her chest.
Her pain eased as the baby–a girl, she realized–stretched, her mouth opening
wide in a silent yawn.
“What are you gonna name her?” Mickey asked, after he came back from his room
and covered her and the baby with his blanket. He'd already thrown away the
filthy curtain and her dirty sheets and Mandy had never been more grateful to
have him as her brother.
Mandy looked down at the now sleeping baby that was still nestled against her
chest and she found herself smiling as exhaustion set in. She was physically
and emotionally drained and tears escaped from her eyes as she stroked a finger
against her daughter's cheek,
“Allison's a pretty name, don't you think? We can call her Ally.”
~ ~ ~
As another wave of nausea and shakes passed, he finally arrived. Marcus
Roselli. Mandy vaguely remembered meeting him when she was younger after
helping her brothers steal a bunch of booze from where his dad Walter worked.
The Roselli family owned a liquor distribution branch for all the local bars
and–what the Milkovich brothers hadn't known at the time–they were a part of
the mob. Mandy met him again through Spencer. He was a few years older than her
and at first they had laughed over the memory of Mandy and her brothers being
chucked out of the building by Marcus' dad, but when Mandy spiralled out of
control and became more dependant on Spencer and drugs, their relationship
changed.
He comforted her after Spencer left: gave her company when she needed it and
drugs when she was feeling weak. Marcus knelt down beside her on the bed and he
smiled at her as he stroked her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her
ears. She sat herself up, her whole body trembling and he smiled as he pulled
up the sleeve of her sweater. "You're a mess, Mands."
Mandy nodded, her teeth clenched tightly as he wrapped the tube around her arm.
She held her arm out for him, wrist limp and he perched on the edge of the bed
as he cooked up her fix. "What are we going to do with you huh?"
She watched with a blank expression as Marcus loaded the needle. He flicked it
and Mandy felt a drop of liquid fall onto her arm but she didn't have the
energy to wipe it away.
"Ready?" he asked and Mandy nodded, scratching at her bare thigh, her feet
twitching in anticipation. "Same payment as before?"
Mandy looked at him then, her eyes wide, and for a moment, just before he
pushed the needle into her arm, she felt something like shame.
~ ~ ~
Mandy picked up the stick with shaking hands. Her period was more than a month
late but she'd put off taking the test because she really believed something
would change. She hoped beyond hope that this wasn't happening to her–that the
embarrassment of being 15 and pregnant was going to be something she wouldn’t
actually have to experience–but as the timer rang and the two pink lines came
into view, she closed her eyes and the tears slid down her face. She was
pregnant.
~ ~ ~
As the drugs took effect, everything seemed to slow down around her. The heroin
swam through her veins and Mandy felt her heart beat against her ribcage–felt
the blood pump through her body, every sound amplified in her ears, but it
didn't hurt like it did before. She felt alive! Like she could conquer the
world; same as she felt all those years ago. Her limp frame slid down the
headboard but she wasn’t aware of anything other than the blissful feeling of
the drugs taking over her body. When she was high like this, she felt closer to
the Mandy she once was... the Mandy she had lost somewhere along the way. Every
part of her felt on fire in the best possible way; euphoric. The cramps in her
stomach gave way to butterflies–all the cobwebs and darkness inside of her
being washed away. She felt light, clean and pure. She could see colours where
she once saw just grey.
She sank further back into her mattress and felt a cold breeze on her stomach,
replaced quickly by the feeling of warm, calloused hands that moved down her
body, down her legs, stripping her of her clothes. She looked up at Marcus,
barely seeing him, her eyes hooded. Her mouth opened and instead of words there
was silence. Nothing came out no matter how hard she tried.
Euphoria took over her body completely, numbing her mind to everything around
her. She could feel the weight of Marcus on top of her, but it was like he
wasn't even there. In her mind she was 12 years old and running along the pier
with her brothers, then she was five years old and sneaking into her mother's
bedroom, being told fairy tales of princes and princesses and a life that she
once believed she would have.
When she was high like this, she found it easy to tune out the noises around
her, the grunts and moans above her, the lips on her neck and the fingers
digging into her waist. Her head banged against the headboard, again and again
as Marcus moved on top of her, panting and grabbing and Mandy just closed her
eyes and shut down her brain, thinking of nothing at all. One last hit, she
promised herself. One last hit.
She opened her eyes in time to see the bedroom door opening and
somebody–Marcus,  she thought–leaving through it. The feeling of happiness
settled into her bones and she thought of Ally. Ally, her daughter, six years
old and more beautiful than Mandy would ever be. Ally who smiled like the sun
shone bright everyday, who held the universe inside of her and carried with her
more forgiveness and more kindness than Mandy had ever seen in anybody. She
thought of Ally in Mickey's old shirt that hung down to her knees, the sleeve
chewed and ripped from Ally's teeth. Ally was a lot like her uncle Mickey, had
grown up just like him: too tough and too smart too soon, but good. Ally was
good. Mandy smiled at the thought as her eyes fell shut.
“Sure,” she could hear Mickey saying, an echo of a conversation long ago. "We
can call her Ally."
***** Ally *****
Chapter 2: Ally
It had been getting dark outside really early now that winter was coming. Ally
was watching Jeopardy, humming along to the theme song like she used to when
her Uncle Mickey used to watch it with her. She heard shuffling sounds coming
from her mom’s room; her mom was finally waking up, despite the fact that it
was after seven at night.
Ally picked up her cereal bowl and now-empty jello cup and brought them to the
kitchen. Using a nearby chair so that she could reach, she placed the bowl and
spoons into the sink and let the water run over them, washing away the evidence
of her dinner.
She jumped down from the chair and put two slices of bread into the toaster.
While it ticked away, she got the butter out of the fridge and a knife from the
small drawer. Her mom had been sleeping all day and Ally knew she needed to at
least try to get her to eat something.
~ ~ ~
Uncle Mickey was waiting for her at the corner when the school bus dropped her
off. She ran into his arms and gave him a tight hug, happy she didn’t have to
walk down the block alone like she usually did whenever it was her mom’s turn
to meet her.
“But I thought mommy was getting me today?”
“What, you’re not happy to see me?” her uncle accused, making a hurt expression
that Ally knew was totally fake.
“Noooooo Uncle Mick! That’s not what I said!”
“Uhuh… Sure it wasn’t…”
“It wasn’t!”
He grinned at her, showing his teeth, then picked her up without warning and
put her so that she was sitting atop his shoulders, using his head to keep
herself balanced. It was Ally’s favorite thing.
“Watch the hair,” Uncle Mickey cautioned, but Ally knew better than to touch
her uncle’s black, gel-slicked hair. She laughed happily as they walked home,
Ally bouncing along with her uncle’s steps.
They settled into the house, Uncle Mickey taking her backpack and lunch box
into her bedroom while Ally turned the TV on in the living room. “Where’s
mommy?” she asked when he returned.
“She had something to do,” Uncle Mickey told her without concern. Ally was
worried, but then her uncle said, “don’t worry, kiddo. I’m here.”
He sat beside her on the couch and she leaned against him while they watched
something about a cat who was constantly getting into accidents.
“How was Kindergarten today, ya little brat?” Uncle Mickey asked when the
episode was over.
“It was SO much fun. We learned a new song for the days of the week, drew
pictures of our families and then Miss Brenda let us watch Toy Story. Wait,
I’ll show you!”
Ally was excited. She loved drawing and she was happy that Miss Brenda had let
her take her picture home. She ran to her room and pulled the paper out from
the Hello Kitty backpack she had covered with stickers when she’d started
Nursery the year before. She skipped on the way back to the living room and
climbed up onto her uncle’s lap. Unfolding the paper, she presented it to him.
“Here’s me,” Ally said, pointing to the little girl she’d drawn right in the
middle of the page. She had long black hair and blue eyes, just like Ally did.
“Then here’s you and Uncle Joey.” This time she pointed to the two stick
figures to the right. One was holding a knife and the other had a Snickers bar
in his hand. “There’s Grandpa,” she indicated the figure at the top right of
the page, in a building with a sign atop it that read ‘JALE’, “and there’s
uncle Iggy.” She showed Uncle Mickey the gravestone she’d drawn in the bottom
right corner with a flower growing right in front of it.
“And this?” her uncle asked, pointing to the left of the page.
“That’s mommy, silly!” she said, surprised he couldn’t tell. She’d drawn her
mom in bed, asleep, wearing her favorite glittery club dress.
“No Spencer?”
Ally shook her head. “Miss Brenda said family .” She didn’t add that she hated
her mommy’s friend and wouldn’t have drawn him even if she’d been allowed to.
Uncle Mickey put a hand in her hair and ruffled it. “This is really good,
kiddo.” Ally beamed at him. Her stomach chose that moment to let out a deep
growl.
“Hungry?”
Ally nodded vigorously.
Uncle Mickey went to the kitchen and brought out a whole box of cherry flavored
Jello cups and two spoons, dropping them on the coffee table. Ally licked her
lips as she watched her uncle tear two of the cups out of the box.
“Well, what are you waiting for, twerp? Dig in!”
~ ~ ~
She accidentally burned the toast, so she used the knife to scrape off the
black edges. Anything, even burnt toast, was better than nothing, right? She
decided to put a little bit of extra butter on top, kind of like a treat.
Grabbing the plate of toast and a glass she’d filled with cold water, Ally
pushed the door to her mom’s room open with her foot. It made a loud creak and
Ally froze, hoping she hadn’t just pissed her mom off, but a look at the
unmoving form on the bed let her know that it was okay.
Ally knelt on the floor beside her mom’s bed and pushed the glass on the
bedside table. It was heavy but Ally was proud she hadn’t spilled any water.
Her mom didn’t make any indication that she was going to eat, so Ally daintily
picked up the toast and held it close to her mom’s mouth.
“Try to eat, Mommy,” she said as encouragingly as she could. “You needa eat
somethin’ or you’ll get sick again.”
Ally remembered the last time her mom hadn’t eaten for days, right after
Spencer had left. She frowned, not liking the memory. Her mom had gotten so
skinny that it looked like her skin was just a sheet draped over a skeleton,
like the one they’d had in the classroom at school during Halloween. She hated
seeing her mom so frail and helpless, and hated that it was all stupid
Spencer’s fault.
~ ~ ~
"Heeey Ally-Ally-Allycat," Spencer sang as he came crashing through the front
door. Ally furrowed her brow, confused. Spencer was smiling, his eyes bright
and wild and all his teeth were showing from where he was grinning so wide.
"Only Uncle Iggy calls me that," she twisted her lips self-consciously and
hugged her bear closer to her chest as Spencer bent to his knees in front of
her. There was a strong smell coming from him and it made her nose crinkle. It
reminded her of her grandpa Terry and she wondered if Spencer was hiding a
bottle of the funny tasting water in his jacket, just like her grandpa always
did.
Spencer scooped Ally up into his arms and spun around with her, tickling at her
stomach, his fingers digging in too hard. "What, I can't call ya that too?" he
asked when he finally stood still, his breathing heavy and his mouth still
pulled back in a strange grin.
Ally blinked at Spencer's mouth, his smile looking out of place on his face,
and she once again thought of her grandpa Terry and how his smiles always made
the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She shrugged and chewed on her
bottom lip and Spencer laughed as he threw Ally up in to the air, catching her
in a grip that was too tight, aching her ribs.
"Come on, Ally cat. You're no fun. You're a kid! You're supposed to be fun!" He
held her close in front of his face and Ally could smell his breath. It was
strong and stale and she pictured her eyelids burning away from the stench,
like they did in the cartoon that Uncle Mickey showed her. She noticed the
blacks of Spencer's eyes, how big they were. There was almost no brown there
now and Ally didn't understand it. He had what looked like drops of baby powder
on the inside of his nose and Ally's eyebrows drew closer together in
confusion. She didn't know that you were supposed to put baby powder there.
"Come on, kid. Lighten up a little!" The breath rushed out from her as Spencer
dropped her onto the couch, her back slamming too hard against the cushions and
tears stung at her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered and she couldn't find her
teddy bear anywhere, but she didn't even remember dropping it. "You know what
‘fun’ is, right?"
She nodded as Spencer sat down beside her, his knee touching her leg and she
curled away from him and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yeah..."
she mumbled, and Spencer laughed again, his arm wrapping around her neck in a
headlock. She felt the knuckles of his hand rub roughly against her head and
she kicked out her legs, pushing against his arm as she cried for him to stop.
"Get off!" she screamed out, pushing as hard as she could as her voice broke
off into a sob. Spencer still carried on, pressing his knuckles deeper against
her scalp. Ally wriggled as much as she could, trying to free herself from his
grip and when he only laughed at her attempts she bit down on the flesh of his
arm.
He ripped his arm away from her and yelled out, rubbing at the tender patch of
skin and working out the indents of her teeth. She scrambled off of the couch
and away from him, never taking her eyes off of him like Uncle Mickey always
taught her.
"Little bitch!" he growled, still rubbing at his arm. Ally's lip wobbled again
at his harsh words. She had asked him to get off of her, she had cried and he
still wouldn't. She had only done what she had always been taught: fight back.
"Just like the rest of your fucking family, huh? Don't know how to fucking
enjoy life." Spencer's smile was gone now. His mouth crinkled in anger and his
face flushed red as he tensed his jaw. Ally looked at the bear that was sitting
beside Spencer and he followed her gaze. He picked up the bear in one hand,
tight around the bear's neck and Ally stepped backwards. Spencer threw the bear
at her chest and the weight of it knocked her on her ass. She landed on the
ground with a thud and this time Spencer didn't laugh. He stood up off the sofa
and moved closer to her. She shuffled backwards as fast as she could but
quickly came into contact with the wall.
Spencer's feet seemed to thud loudly against the floor and he was like a giant
as she looked up at him from the floor. Ally felt snot and tears beginning to
run down her face but she couldn't stop them, couldn't even think about them as
Spencer's head blocked out the light. "You think biting people is funny? That
your idea of fun?"
Ally shook her head, over and over as she cuddled Smokey to her chest but
Spencer didn't take that as an answer. Ally's heart pounded in her chest as
Spencer reached down and snatched the bear away from her. Just as Ally let out
a sob, she heard footsteps from behind Spencer.
"Ay, what's going on?"  Her mom. Her mommy was here. She was safe now. Ally
pushed herself to her feet and ran and hugged at her mom's legs before Spencer
could stop her. She cuddled her mom's thighs and squeezed them as tight as she
could, her face buried in her mom's hip, until she didn't feel afraid anymore.
When she opened her eyes she saw Spencer smiling again and her chest tightened
at the sight,
"Oh, we were just playing a little game"
~ ~ ~
Instead of eating, her mom turned away from the food and stared at the ceiling.
Ally could see she wasn’t getting anywhere, but refused to give up.
“You didn’t eat anythin’ today…” Ally whispered to her mom. “Please…?”
Just then, her mom lifted a hand and Ally’s face lit up, thinking that her
final plea had actually worked, but just as suddenly as her spirits lifted,
they came crashing down when her mom pushed the toast away.
“Get out of here,” she said to Ally in her raspy voice. “You should be doing
homework, not watching TV.”
Ally’s eyes brimmed with tears but she blinked them back. She had already done
her homework, as soon as she’d gotten home, just like Uncle Mickey had taught
her, but her mom never noticed things like that. She ever noticed anything Ally
did.
Ally left the room, leaving the toast and the water behind.
~ ~ ~
"CAT!" Ally yelled, excitedly. Uncle Mickey laughed at her and nodded, ruffling
her hair so it covered her eyes as he moved his finger to the next word on the
board.
"P-A- PAT!" she yelled again, her little legs kicking out with unrestricted
energy.
Her uncle covered her mouth with his hand as she laughed. "Alright, alright.
You know your mom's asleep‒shut up a bit, okay? Not so loud."
"Alriiiight" Ally sighed. Uncle Mickey was always telling her to be quiet and
not wake mommy up, but it was hard to remember not to shout when she did her
homework with her uncle; he made everything so much fun. "Next word, next
word."
"Okay. No yelling though." Ally pulled an imaginary zipper across her lips and,
keeping her lips pressed tightly together, smiled up at her Uncle Mickey.
"Alright, kiddo. Next word."
"Mmm-mmm-mmm," Ally sounded out the letters, her mouth still closed and she saw
her uncle fight back a smile as he rolled his eyes at her.
"Alright smart-ass, very funny." He mimed unlocking her mouth and Ally panted
out a breath as if she'd been holding it in for ages. Uncle Mickey snorted out
something close to a laugh and then groaned as he relaxed back against the sofa
cushions.
“You’re getting old, Uncle Mickey,” she teased.
“Like I don’t know that,” he snapped. He twisted in his seat to crack his back,
but Ally shushed him because of how much noise it made. “Yeah, yeah... What's
the next word?”
Curling her thin arms around his bicep, Ally rested her cheek against his
shoulder and let out a sigh. "Uhh... fat!" She giggled, a high pitched sound
that sounded like windchimes in a summer breeze. Her uncle looked down at her
as she tilted her head up to him. "Mommy said that you were fat. A porker!" The
word was unfamiliar on her tongue‒she didn’t actually know what it meant, but
was repeating her mom’s words.
“I was fat? Your mom don't know shit! Should'a seen her when she was a little
younger than you‒like one of those damn weeble wobbles.”
“Weeble wobble?” Ally repeated, her nose screwing up in confusion.
“Yeah. You know what one of those is. You push it over and it gets right back
up.” Uncle Mickey chewed on his finger nail as he mimed pushing one over and
Ally shook her head at him.
“Weeble wobble,” she said again, shifting around so she could look at him
properly.
He wiped his finger along his thigh and nodded, "Yeah. Sorta like this." He
pushed her backwards so she fell against the sofa and she let out that same
high-pitched laugh, kicking her legs against his thigh.
“Not fair uncle Mick!” She sat up, shifting her legs so that they were under
her butt and she charged at him head first, her arms circling his waist. He
laughed at the sight of her scrambling with her legs kicking out behind her,
trying to knock him sideways.
A loud bang came from her mom's bedroom; the sound of something being thrown
against the wall. A second later came the sound of her mom's voice, loud and
slurred with sleep, "KNOCK IT OFF!"
Ally pulled away from him then. She plopped back down on the sofa with wide
eyes and her lips pressed tightly together, threatening to lift up into a
smile.
"See? I told ya to shush," Uncle Mickey teased, nudging his elbow in to Ally's
arm and she giggled quietly into the palm of her hand.
"S'your fault..." she whispered when she calmed down.
Her uncle chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Nuh uh. Totally yours.”
“Nuh uh,” she argued defiantly, mimicking him. It was definitely her uncle’s
fault. Ally would have been quiet if he hadn’t pushed her down.
"Whatever," her uncle conceded, barely covering his smile. "Next word."
~ ~ ~
Ally lowered the volume on the TV so that it wouldn’t bother her mom. She
missed Uncle Mickey and couldn’t wait until Saturday, because ever since he had
moved out again a couple of months ago, she only got to see him on the
weekends. He’d told her that the house was only big enough for one of them, and
that her mom had picked Spencer.
Ally rested her head on the arm of the couch and continued watching the game
show. She rarely knew the answers, but it was fun watching the geniuses battle
it out.
She sighed, unable to get thoughts of the past out of her mind. When Spencer
had left for good, Ally had been happy. She’d believed that things would get
better for everyone. In fact, she’d excitedly called Uncle Mickey and had
begged him to come back, but he’d refused, explaining that her mom was toxic
and that he couldn’t be there in that house anymore, even without Spencer.
She was a big girl now‒big enough to know that it was the heroin that had
ruined everything.
~ ~ ~
“Is he gone?” Uncle Mickey asked Ally when he came home later that night. His
clothes were dirty and covered in dark reddish brown stains. He didn’t have to
explain who ‘he’ was.
Ally nodded. Spencer had left about an hour ago.
He went into her mom’s room, ripping the door open so hard that Ally thought it
was going to break.
“He died. He fuckin’died. Too much blood loss or something. They couldn’t stop
it in time.” It was the most defeated she’d ever heard her uncle sound.
“Mandy. Mandy!Mandy!Are you even fucking listening to me?” Ally peeked over the
couch and saw her uncle kneel over her mom.
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” he screamed without warning, throwing her mom’s
arm back down onto the bed.
Ally gasped at the sudden change in her uncle’s tone, and instantly sank as low
onto the couch as possible without being underneath the cushions themselves.
“HEROIN? WHAT, YOU WEREN’T ENOUGH OF A FUCKING ADDICT BEFORE THAT YOU HAD TO
STEP YOUR GAME UP? YOU LET HIM GIVE YOU HEROIN?”
Ally thought it was weird that Uncle Mickey was so angry. Wasn’t heroine a good
thing? Heroines saved people, like superheroes… maybe her mommy would get
better now that she had a heroine...
~ ~ ~
She really tried to pretend she couldn’t hear her mom’s whimpers, but it wasn’t
working. Ally squeezed her teddy bear tightly. Uncle Mickey had named it Smokey
the Bear because of the trenchcoat it had had in the beginning, but she liked
to call him Teddy now, in secret. She didn’t want to tell her uncle, but she
hated smoke. It reminded her of the bad smells that used to fill the house, and
the bad things that happened in their wake.
When her mom’s moans got louder, Ally decided to go and check on her again. She
tiptoed to the doorway and looked through the small space where she’d neglected
to close the door completely.
"Go. Away," came the hollow yell from behind the door.
Ally slammed the door shut and ran back into the living room, Teddy in tow.
Jeopardy finished, then Wheel of Fortune came on. Now thatwas a show she could
actually play. “Jurassic Park Avenue,” she muttered under her breath. The
category was Before & After‒her favorite.
A knock on the door stole her attention from the program before she could see
if she’d been right. Ally got off the couch and walked over to the front door.
She reached up and turned the doorknob, opening the door just a few inches so
that she could see who it was.
“Mandy here?” the guy on the other side of the door asked. “You can tell her
Marcus is here to see her,” he added.
Ally turned her head all the way around and looked at her mom’s closed bedroom
door, not sure what to do. She recognized the guy. His light skin and buzzed
haircut were familiar; she’d seen him with her mom and Spencer a few times. She
nodded to him and closed the door. Getting a small step-stool from behind her
so that she could reach the chain door lock, she slid it open and then hopped
down to let the man in. The cold air from outside gave her goosebumps. She
pulled Uncle Mickey’s old t-shirt up so that it better covered her shoulder.
The man went into her mom’s room without another word to Ally, so she returned
to her seat in the living room and resumed watching the show.
Except that the guy didn’t close the door completely: Ally could hear them
talking, and when she turned to see what was going on, she saw the guy using
his lighter to melt down some powder he’d put on top of a spoon.
Her mom was getting high, again. Ally recognized the sound of relief her mom
made. She heard the difference in her mom’s breathing, no longer quick and
erratic. The painful moaning and whimpering ceased. But her mom’s contented
sighs soon gave way to a different noise: the sound of the bed frame steadily
banging against the wall.
Looking back into the room one last time, Ally saw what was happening, and
wished she hadn’t. While her mom lay motionless and blissed out on the bed, the
man was on top of her, his dirty hands reaching, touching and grabbing
everywhere while he moved back and forth over and over.
Even though Ally tried not to watch, she could still hear the sounds coming
from the bedroom. She closed her eyes and covered her ears and told herself to
think happy thoughts, like Wendy did in the Peter Pan movie. Think happy
thoughts, she repeated to herself. Think happy thoughts.
~ ~ ~
"Mommy do bunnies have babies too?" Ally asked as she spooned some cereal into
her mouth. Milk dribbled down her chin and her mom rolled her eyes as she
reached over and wiped at her mouth with a clean sock from the laundry she was
folding.
"Duh," her mom answered, smiling as she threw the sock into the dirty laundry
pile. "How else do you think they get here?"
"But how?" Ally asked, stirring her spoon around the bowl, spilling the milk
over the sides,
"How?"
"How do they have babies?" she asked again, lifting the spoon out of the bowl
and moving it towards her mouth with an unsteady hand.
"I don't know. Isn't that the shit you learn in school?" Ally crinkled her nose
at the dark circles under her mom’s eyes as they stood out like bruises against
her pale skin, making her look like she hadn't slept in a month.
"Miss Bridges says I gotta wait ‘til I'm in big school to find out," Ally
shrugged, struggling to pronounce her words. She noticed how bright her mom's
eyes were, how big her pupils were.
"You like rabbits?" her mom questioned and Ally nodded her head, watching as
her mom moved around the kitchen with a spring in her step, cleaning up the
mess that had been left to build up for weeks.
"They're okay..."
"Well, you wanna skip school and go find some?"
"Skip school?" Ally repeated unsurely, darting her tongue out and running it
along her bottom lip.
"Just one day,” her mom assured. “It'll be good‒come on." Her mom walked over
to her and kissed the top of her head. She smelled of strong perfume and sweat
and Ally could see glitter on her mom's skin that she always wore to work.
"Okay," she agreed, wondering if her mom had been to sleep yet.
"Yeah?" her mom asked, her smile growing wider, scratching her fingers against
Ally's scalp. Ally screwed her face up at the rare affection.
"Will Miss Bridges be mad?" Ally wondered, shoving another spoonful into her
mouth. Her mom rolled her eyes again, this time at the mess she made on the
table as cereal and milk spilled onto it.
"We'll call in sick."
Ally slurped the last of the milk from her bowl as she held it to her mouth.
She dropped the bowl back onto the table and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of
her sweater.
"Where are the rabbits?"
"Well get your shoes on and we'll find out." Her mom picked her up out of her
chair and cuddled her to her chest, tickling her sides as Ally squealed and
kicked her legs happily.
"Mommy stop!" she laughed, fighting to catch her breath. "Momma, quit it!"
Her mom put her down on the floor and as Ally walked away to get her shoes, her
mom tapped her bum. "Be quick, okay?"
They spent the whole day riding the El, making stops every now and again to
visit different pet stores around the city. They shared ice cream even though
it was freezing out and they prank called Uncle Mickey in different voices
until he got mad and yelled at them, threatening to not come home after his
shift. They laughed and Ally didn't even mind when her mom kept leaving her to
go the bathroom all the time. The sky was grey and cloudy and Ally's fingers
were numb despite the fact that she had gloves on, but she didn't care. Her mom
was here with her and smiling and laughing. Ally couldn't even remember the
last time her mom had been awake while it was light outside‒she was always too
tired from work.
"Come on Ally, last stop before home." As the train came to a shuddering stop,
her mom grabbed her hand and pulled her along, swearing and pushing people out
of the way until they were away from the crowds of people and walking along a
near-empty street.
"Where we going?" Ally asked, tugging on her mom's hand.
"There," she replied, pointing to a building across the road. Ally blinked at
it, her smile growing as she saw a large sign with the outline of a rabbit on
it.
"What is it, mommy?"
"It's a place where they keep lots of rabbits. We can't stay long but you wanna
see if they'll let us hold one?" her mom asked, tucking her hair behind her
ear. Ally nodded excitedly, chewing on the zipper of her coat.
She saw her mom grin before shouting, "Well come on then!" She dropped Ally's
hand and ran a few feet ahead and as Ally almost tripped over her own feet in
an attempt to keep up, her mom laughed.
"Mommy, wait! I gotta win!" Ally raced over to her mom and she scooped her up
in her arms as Ally cheered, "I wanna see more rabbits!"
They made their way into the building and her mom put Ally back on the ground.
Ally gasped at all the rabbits that were lined up in cages across the room and
ran over to a pen on the other side of the room, "Mommy! Mommy look!"
"It ok to hold 'em?" she heard her mom ask a curly haired woman who was sitting
on a computer chair.
The woman swallowed down a mouthful of her donut before she spoke. "Sure. Only
the ones in the pen though. The ones in the cages have only just come in."
Her mom came and sat down beside her. Ally watched carefully as she lifted the
biggest rabbit out of the pen. "Look at the size of this one, Ally."
"He's huge!" Ally exclaimed, her eyes going wide as her mom placed the rabbit
in her lap.
"I know. He's almost bigger than you,"  her mom replied as she leaned over and
petted the rabbit. "You think he's‒"
Ally couldn’t hear what her mom was saying as the bunny lifted it’s head
towards her face, his whiskers tickling at her chin. "Mom!” she called,
laughing so hard that her ribs began to ache with it, “Mom, look at him!"
Ally fell backwards so she was laying on the floor and she laughed harder as
the rabbit moved up and rested his head on her neck. Ally looked over at her
mom and found her smiling back at her, and for a moment the dark circles under
her eyes didn't look so bad.
~ ~ ~
She didn’t know how much time had passed when they guy walked through the
living room and she heard the front door slam shut. Ally went into her mom’s
room. Bruises were already forming on her mom’s waist from where he’d grabbed
her too hard, and Ally was careful as she pulled her mom’s panties back up. She
fixed her mom’s shirt, pulling it down so that it covered her exposed breasts
the ribs protruding from her chest. 
Finally, she pulled the threadbare blanket over her mom in an effort to keep
her skinny and battered body warm, but stopped halfway. Her mom’s eyes were
open but it was like she wasn’t actually seeing anything. Something was
different… something was very wrong.
“Mommy?” Ally asked, voice quivering. Her mom didn’t answer. Ally gently shook
her, then increased the urgency of her attempts when her mom still didn’t
respond.
“MOMMY, WAKE UP!”
Her mom didn’t move.
Not knowing what else to do, she ran to the kitchen and picked up the wall
phone to call Uncle Mickey.
“Kiddo, I’m at work,” he said as soon as he answered.
“Mom’s not okay,” she blurted out.
Uncle Mickey snorted. “Your mom’s never okay…”
“This is different, Uncle Mick. Her eyes look dead and she’s not moving. I
tried shaking her but-” she sniffled, “but she didn’t even blink. I dunno what
to do!” By the end of her sentence, she was sobbing into the phone.
“Okay, Allison, don’t panic.” Ally stopped crying and was absolutely silent.
Her uncle neverused her full name. “Get off the phone with me and call 9-1-1.
Tell ‘em you think your mom has overdosed and tell ‘em to send help. I’m comin’
there right now.”
***** Mickey *****
  Chapter 3:      Mickey
Mickey was busy scratching the VIN off of the new Porsche that Steve had
brought into the garage when his cell phone started ringing. He looked at the
screen and saw that it was the house number calling, and since Mandy and him
weren’t talking anymore, it had to be Ally on the other end.
“Kiddo, I’m at work,” he said right off the bat after flipping the phone open.
His boss hated when the guys used their cell phones on the job, even if they
were working the evening shift, so he hoped she’d be quick.
“Mom’s not okay,” Ally said urgently into the phone.
Mickey snorted. Mandy hadn’t been okay in years; it wasn’t news to him. “Your
mom’s never okay…” Mickey told his niece, still trying to be kind. After all,
it wasn’t Ally’s fault that his sister was the fuck-up she’d become.
“This is different, Uncle Mick.” she said. Mickey could tell from her tone that
something really was wrong, so he put down the metal file he’d been using a
moment ago and stepped out of the bay door. The sounds in the garage were
ridiculously loud, so it was necessary if he wanted to be able to hear Ally
properly. “Her eyes look dead and she’s not moving. I tried shaking her but-”
Ally sniffled, “but she didn’t even blink. I dunno what to do!” Mickey could
hear his niece sobbing.
Shit. What the hell was Mandy fucking thinking?
 “     Okay, Allison, don’t panic.” Mickey purposely chose to use her full name
so that she’d know how serious the situation was. He needed her to suck it up
and       act      now. There would be time for panic later.
His plan worked; Ally stopped crying and was absolutely silent.
“Get off the phone with me and call 9-1-1. Tell ‘em you think your mom has
overdosed and tell ‘em to send help. I’m comin’ there right now.” Mickey
snapped the phone shut and ran back inside the garage.
“Ey yo, Carlos!” he shouted, getting the attention of the mechanic closest to
him. Carlos put the soldering gun down and pulled his mask up. “Tell Mr. Dixon
I had an emergency and had to bounce!” Mickey said, motioning to his boss’
office with a nod of his head. He would deal with the consequences of leaving
work before the end of his shift tomorrow; right now he had to get to the
Milkovich house. He had to get to Mandy and Ally, the only real family he had
left.
~ ~ ~
Mandy was smoking a joint in the living room when Mickey got home from the
garage.
“What’re you doin’ up?” he wondered, since his sister was rarely awake before
dark since she’d started working nights.
“Got a call from Marion today,” she explained, lips in a thin line.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, wondering what the fuck his dad had done now.
Marion State Penitentiary was five hours away, but the Milkoviches were more
than familiar with the place.
Mandy held out the joint and Mickey eyed it suspiciously. “It’s just weed,” she
assured him. He picked up the spliff and took a hit.
“Where’s Ally?” he asked, letting the smoke out slowly. He took another hit,
the weed calming him after the long day he’d had at work.
“Out with Iggy. I asked him to watch her for a few hours… keep her outta the
house.”
He could tell she was holding something back‒prepping him, in a way‒but he
couldn’t figure out why. “Why? This have something to do with dad?”
Mandy nodded, but didn’t elaborate. She took the joint back and continued
smoking, because his sister was fucking smart like that. People underestimated
Mandy‒but not Mickey. He knew his sister could be a sneaky genius when she
wanted to be.
Mickey’s high had thoroughly kicked in by the time Mandy spoke again. The twat
waited until he was too stoned to panic about whether or not Terry had gotten
parole or an early release for good behavior or any other fucking reason to
come back home and ruin Mickey’s life again.
“Warden sends ‘his deepest condolences’,” she mocked. “Apparently being a
racist motherfucker can get you in trouble, no matter how many white
supremacist friends you have on the inside,” she added. Mickey stared at Mandy,
his head fuzzy, but definitely understanding the implications of her words:
their dad was dead.
Anger and sadness rolled through his body, filling him, like a disease slowly
spreading through his veins. By the time it reached his extremities, Mickey’s
brain had caught up to his emotions.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Mandy nodded, tapping the ash from the joint into an empty beer can she’d
picked up from the coffee table. “Almost started a fucking riot between the
Aryan Brotherhood and every other gang in there before going down… but the
Warden said they were able to stop him before anyone else got involved.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. Their dad was dead. D-E-A-D, dead.
Without warning, Mickey let out a laugh. It surprised him as much as it
surprised Mandy. Mickey didn’t expect to feel relief. Relief that he was done
living every single day in fear of his dad coming back and finishing what he’d
started three years ago. Relief that he didn’t have to worry about
disappointing anyone again.
Mandy looked at him like he was crazy. “I tell you dad’s dead and you’re
laughing?”
Mickey tried to calm himself down but his fucking feelings were too
overwhelming. He continued laughing, stopping only to catch his breath. “A gang
war…” he spit out between fits. “Of course… Of course Terry Milkovich would go
down trying to start a fucking gang war… It’s not enough to fuck up your kids
while you’re out of prison‒gotta make sure you get involved in some shit on the
inside that’ll definitely get them on someone’s hit list. That’s all we fucking
need now: a retaliation hit!”
It didn’t take long for the manic laughter to change to tears. That was the
problem with the Milkoviches: they didn’t think about how their actions
affected the ones they left behind.
~ ~ ~
Mickey took the stairs two at a time. His hands shook as he fumbled for the
house key in the dark, but as he pressed it to the lock, the door slid open.
Mickey scowled. Didn’t Ally know better than to leave the front door unlocked?
“Ally?” he called into the seemingly empty house. “Hey kiddo, where are you?”
He moved towards his sister’s room and saw the little girl huddled on the floor
in the corner opposite her mother, hugging her teddy bear and rocking back and
forth, holding in her tears. Mickey studied her for a moment, seeing his sister
in the slope of Ally’s nose, seeing his mother in the shape of her eyes and his
father in the set of her jaw. A Milkovich through and through, even under
stress.
She looked up and relief flooded her eyes. “Uncle Mickey?” Her voice made her
sound tiny‒much younger than she really was.
“I’m here,” he said to her, voice soft. He held out his arms and Ally ran into
them, starting to weep again. Mickey put his hand on the back of Ally’s head,
holding her close and simultaneously stroking her hair comfortingly. He finally
let his eyes wander over to the bed, now that he knew Ally was safe.
Mandy looked worse than he’d expected. Her skin was ashen, almost translucent
as it clung to her bones, and was covered in a thin layer of sweat that shone
in the yellow light coming from the living room behind him. Her body was half
covered by a blanket, no doubt Ally’s doing, but her arm was exposed, revealing
the bruises and track marks. Mickey was horrified as he continued staring at
his sister. Her hair was a filthy, disgusting mess, all thin and knotted,
plastered to her caked-on-makeup covered face, the black strands matching the
lines of mascara had trailed down her cheeks from hopeless tears. Her eyes were
aimed up at the ceiling, empty and unseeing. She hadn’t blinked once in the
entire time he’d been standing there.
 Fuckin’ hell, Mandy,     he thought.     You have a    kid   .
If she didn’t care about herself, why couldn’t she at least care about Ally?
~ ~ ~
Mickey watched Ally as she slept, her little chest rising and falling in a
steady rhythm, and a soft snore escaping in time with each exhale because she
was still getting over a cold some brat at school had given her.
It was almost five in the morning and he had work in a few hours, but he
couldn’t sleep‒not with his mind racing the way it was. He was going through
all the different scenarios of how his conversation with Mandy would go down.
None of them looked good. He was sure of only one thing: something needed to
change.
He decided the best way to talk to her would be to lay all of his cards out on
the table. He would tell his sister that he was done fixing her messes and
supporting her ass. Yeah, their dad had died and had left the house to Mandy,
but that had also meant he’d left her with the mortgage, and Mandy continued to
blow her money on drugs for herself and her live-in, freeloading boyfriend
instead of contributing to the payment.
Mickey knew it was Iggy’s death that had been the final straw. He knew Mandy
had given in to using heroin instead of dealing with the reality of how fucked
up her life had become. He knew the drugs were her escape; she didn’t care
about anything anymore. He remembered how his mom had described it to him as
“medicine to make all of your problems go away… all of the bad thoughts, all of
the worries… just… poof!... gone…”
There was a crash from the front of the house‒a sound Mickey was all too
familiar with. He’d heard it hundreds of times when his dad had come home,
drunk off his ass, and had gotten tangled in the curtains they’d put up by the
entrance to keep the cold out in the winter months. It was the sound of the
curtain rod crashing to the ground because Mandy was too fucked up to even walk
properly.
He heard Spencer’s deeper voice, laughing freely, without regard for the
sleeping kid in the next room. ““Come on, baby, get up,” he heard the asshole
say. “I got some new stuff from Marcus that you’re gonna love…”
Mickey knew he would have to give Mandy an ultimatum: stop using, or he would
leave again. He just hoped she’d let him take Ally with him this time.
~ ~ ~
Mickey had been at the house less than two minutes when there was a sharp knock
on the front door. He tore his eyes away from the horror of his sister’s limp
body on the bed and went to answer it. The lights from the ambulance were
flashing in through the windows reminded Mickey of the club Mandy used to work
at before she’d achieved “full-junkie” status and gotten herself fired.
Two men in navy blue uniforms stood on the stoop. The one on the right was only
an inch or two taller than Mickey, which wasn’t saying much. He had dirty blond
hair that was long enough for him to tie it into a gay little ponytail. Mickey
couldn’t figure out why, but there something about the guy’s tan, scruffy face
that just rubbed him the wrong way. He looked down at the guy’s shirt pocket,
to the name “MILLER” embroidered on it, visible in the red and blue flashing
emergency lights.
“We got a call about a possible overdose,” the other one said, drawing Mickey’s
attention away from Ponytail. This one was tall‒like, really fucking tall‒to
the point where Mickey had to tilt his head back to look at him properly. His
short, red hair was practically orange, accentuated by the array of light
freckles on his face, and his green eyes stared right back at Mickey in
recognition. He looked so familiar, but Mickey didn’t have time to figure it
out where he’d seen the guy before.
“Is this the right house?” Ponytail asked.
Mickey stepped aside and pointed to Mandy’s room, and the two EMTs rushed
passed him in the direction he’d indicated, stretcher and emergency kit bags in
tow.
“Stay in the living room,” he ordered Ally before following them.
“What's her name?" Ponytail asked and Mickey was just about to answer when the
tall one beat him to it.
"Mandy," the redhead called, leaning in close to her face and shining a light
in to her eyes. "Mandy, can you hear me?"
  Mickey saw a look on the redhead’s face that he couldn't explain, so he
focused on him, finally noticing the name on his uniform: “GALLAGHER”, and it
all clicked. It was impossible to live in the South Side and     not    know
the Gallagher family. In fact, Mickey's dad had had a few run-ins with Frank,
the alcoholic patriarch of the Gallagher family, back in the day. Mickey had
known one of the Gallaghers, Lip, because they’d been in the same classes
growing up. He had a vague memory of this one‒Ian, he suddenly
remembered‒following Lip around everywhere with his curly hair and a goofy
smile that showed a missing front tooth, but they had never really spoken.
Seeing Ian cradle his sister's face so gently between his strong hands, seeing
the concern etched on his face, Mickey wondered how he had missed it.
Ian momentarily turned his attention to Mickey. "Okay, I need to know exactly
what she's taken and how much.”
Mickey was aware of Ian's voice but a wave of panic overwhelmed him as he saw
Mandy's body fall back limply onto the bed when Ian let her go.
"Mickey!" Ian yelled and Mickey blinked at him, trying to calm his breathing.
"I need to know what she's taken," he said again.
"I don't know!" Mickey snapped, rubbing his hand along his lips as the nerves
built like tsunami waves in his stomach. "Fuck."
Ponytail got up and approached Mickey cautiously, as if he was some kind of
unruly kid, standing in the middle of the classroom with a loaded paintbrush,
ready to cause havoc. "Has your sister been feeling low lately? Shown any signs
that she wanted to harm herself?" It pissed Mickey off.
"You asking if she fuckin’ did this on purpose?" he asked the guy who was now
standing at the foot of Mandy's bed, just a couple of feet away from him.
Ponytail’s nostrils flared and his mouth was turned down in a grimace, as if he
wanted to be anywhere else but here. Mickey could feel the judgement and
superiority radiating off of the guy, and his lips formed a thin, tight line in
response to the unspoken threat. Mickey’s knuckles cracked as he tightened his
already clenched fists.
He felt a pressure on his shoulder then; a firm but unthreatening touch, and
Mickey felt the ball of growing anger unwind just slightly in his chest. He
looked up at Ian, his mouth still tightened in a scowl and Ian squeezed the
flesh of Mickey’s shoulder gently. "Breathe, Mickey. We just need to know as
much as we can so that we can help her, alright?"
Mickey saw the twitch in Ian's eyebrow, heard the hitch in his throat as he
forced his voice to stay calm but Mickey somehow still found his vision
clearing through his flare of anger, swallowing down his grief and just
breathing. His fists unclenched and he ran a hand over his face, shooting one
last glare at the other fuckhead EMT.
He looked at Ian and shrugged. "I don't fucking know what she took. I‒she's
been on a buncha shit for a while. I just got a call from my niece; she found
her like this. Says she was breathing all funny and shit."
"Alright..." Ian nodded, letting go of Mickey's shoulder and Mickey felt an
overwhelming surge of sadness weigh down inside of him like a boulder. He saw
Ally hovering in the doorway despite being told to wait in the living room, her
face half hidden by her bear Smokey and she looked so small and so scared that
Mickey's heart broke at the sight of her.
~ ~ ~
“Hey ass-face, c‘mere,” he heard Mandy call from her bedroom.
“Get up and get your own snacks, bitch! You’re not tricking me again!” he
yelled back.
“Mickey, I’m serious. Come quick!”
Mickey grunted but went to his sister’s room nevertheless. She was still in
bed, just like he’d expected, but her shirt was pulled up, leaving her stomach
exposed. “Come!” she said in an excited whisper, motioning him closer. She
grabbed his arm once he was within reach and placed his hand flat onto her
stomach.
“What the fuck are you‒”
“SHH! Just wait,” she said quietly, cutting him off.
Mickey was about to draw his hand away when he felt it. A little bump against
his hand. He looked up at his sister’s face in awe, only noticing then that she
had tears in the corners of her eyes.
“It’s the first time,” she said, closing her eyes and causing the tears to
slide down. “First time in five months…” She took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. “I didn’t really believe it ‘til now…” she added, so low that Mickey
barely heard the last bit, even though he was only standing a foot away.
Mickey felt another strong kick under his hand, followed by a series of quick
ones. “Holy shit, Mands. You’ve definitely got a Milkovich in there... already
knows how to fight!” he teased.
She opened her eyes to glare at him before giving him a nervous, little laugh.
Mickey smiled back at her, shoving away the fear of what kind of world the
newest Milkovich would be coming into, knowing that he would do everything he
could to protect it.
~ ~ ~
"Ally," he said, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. "Ally, come here."
The little girl’s chest puffed out in stubbornness and in that moment, Mickey
saw only himself in her. She came to stand beside him, and Mickey put a hand on
her shoulder. He knew trying to keep her out of the room was futile, so he just
hoped that his presence would be enough to keep her calm. He knew Ally was
strong, just like his sister used to be. The two of them stood and watched as
the EMTs worked on Mandy.
The blond, Miller, finally stood and prepared to lift Mandy onto the stretcher.
Ian moved to the opposite end and helped by lifting Mandy’s legs, then turned
to face Mickey. “She’s breathing on her own, but she’s not responding to light
or sound, and as you can see, she isn’t moving. We’re gonna take her to the
hospital. You can ride along, if you want,” Ian supplied.
Mickey fucking hated hospitals, and the last time he’d been to the ER was the
day Iggy had been shot. He didn’t want to go, but it didn’t seem like he had a
choice. Mickey nodded, not quite able to formulate his thoughts into words.
“Go get dressed,” he ordered Ally. The poor kid was only in his old t-shirt and
a pair of fuzzy socks. “Hurry.”
~ ~ ~
Mickey could hear a rush of noise all around him: the steady beeping of  heart
monitors; families talking in hallways and rooms; nurses laughing over at the
nurses station; the wailing cries of a mother from down the hall. Mickey was
sitting on a chair outside of the room where his brother lay with a bullet in
his chest and Mickey could do nothing but chew his fingernails down to nubs and
bounce his leg up and down, up and down, up and down.
He had nothing to distract him from everything around him. He needed someone to
come along and just talk at him or give him a joint, or just… something.
Something to get the image of his brother out of his mind. The image played
like a film loop in his brain: Iggy laying on the ground, blood spreading too
fast around him leaking from the small hole in his chest. What was left of
Mickey's jagged fingernails cut into the heels of his hands as he tried to
distract himself.
"Iggy man, come the fuck on." Mickey stood up abruptly, making a small group of
women across from him jump, and he barely even glanced at them before he pushed
his way into Iggy's room.
It was only when he looked at his arm as it pushed against the door that he
realised he was covered in Iggy's blood. Crusts of it dried against his skin,
red splashes staining his vest. He looked up at Iggy and Mickey's chest
tightened. His brother had never looked so small, laying so still in his
hospital gown, tubes coming out of him and his chest rising and falling so
slowly. "Iggy, wake up man... stop fooling around."
Mickey wiped his thumb over his bottom lip, agitated, trying to swallow back
the lump in throat as he looked at his brother, "Ig. You gott-- you gotta wake
up, Ig. We got Ally to think about. Mandy's a fucking mess. God knows what
state she's going to be in when I get home, huh?"
 Beep, beep, beep   . As he listened to the slow, steady sounds that proved his
brother was there, alive and hanging on, Mickey's chest suddenly felt too
small. He found it hard to breathe around the emotions clogging up in him and
his feet itched with the need to leave. To run, until everything was going to
be okay. "Fuck," he gritted out as tears filled his eyes, "Just..."
He patted down the pockets of his hoodie, relieved when he felt the shape of a
lighter. He rubbed at his eyes, pressed the heels of his hands into his sockets
until his vision blurred. "I'll be back, alright?"
~ ~ ~
The ride to the hospital was nerve-racking, and all Mickey could do was think
about the last time he had been at this same hospital with his brother. Ally
held on to her mom’s hand while Mickey watched the redhead put an oxygen mask
over his sister’s face. It looked bad, and he didn’t want to watch anymore.
When they arrived, the EMTs passed Mandy along to the doctors at the emergency
room exit. A nurse kept them from following her, directing them instead to the
waiting room and promising that a doctor would be out to update them as soon as
Mandy’s condition was determined to be stable.
“Uncle Mickey?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Is mommy gonna be okay?”
Mickey watched her worriedly staring at the ER doors. She wouldn’t tear her
eyes away, not even while talking to him.
“I don’t know,” Mickey answered honestly.
~ ~ ~
 He found himself waiting, as if his brother was going to respond, but nothing
happened.    Beep, beep, beep.    The sound echoed loudly in his ears, piercing
and screaming and Mickey just ran. Out the door and out of the side entrance of
the hospital as fast as he could. He paced up and down as he tried to keep
himself under control. As he lit up a joint he found himself swallowing down
the anger and the hurt and everything else, and for the first time since he got
to the hospital he found himself remembering how to breathe.
He could feel his anger swimming around in his belly like sharks, circling,
waiting to find someone or something to bite, to take his anger out on. His
hands were clenched into fists and he wanted to hurt everybody that walked past
him. But with every inhale the anger numbed into nothing more than a dull ache
and his fists unclenched at his sides.
By the time the joint had smoked down to the roach, Mickey was calm. His brain
buzzed as he made his way back inside the hospital and he found that the noises
didn't scream at him like they did before. The mother still cried as he walked
down the hallway, the nurses still laughed at their stations and he could still
hear the sounds of the families talking, but he reminded himself to breathe and
the noises faded into nothing around him.
He was outside of Iggy's room when he realised that he could no longer hear the
sounds of the heart monitor.
~ ~ ~
They waited for almost an hour for someone to come and tell them what the hell
was going on.
“You are Mrs. Milkovich’s family?” she asked.
Mickey stood but didn’t let go of Ally’s tiny hand in his own large one.
“My name is Dr. Chopra. I’m the resident who saw to your wife,” she explained.
 “    Sister      ,” Mickey corrected.
The doctor gave him an apologetic smile. Her black hair was tied in a bun and
tucked into her cap; her dark, brown skin a stark contrast to the pale blue
scrubs she was wearing.
“Mandy suffered from an overdose of diacetylmorphine... Heroin,” she clarified.
“Her pupils were unresponsive and she stopped breathing on her own shortly
after she was brought in. We’ve put her on a respirator and she’s been given
narcotic antagonists to counteract the effects of the heroin, but now we need
to wait and see how her body reacts.”
She stopped talking, and Mickey realized she was waiting for some kind of sign
from him that he understood before she continued. Mickey nodded.
“She’s been taken to a room in the ICU, and we are monitoring her vital signs.
I can take you to her room now, but I have to warn you that it might be a lot
to take in.” The doctor flicked her eyes towards Ally and Mickey tightened his
grip on her hand.
“What are her odds?” Mickey asked, cutting to the chase.
Dr. Chopra frowned. “It’s too soon to tell. Like I said, we’re monitoring her.
All we can do right now is wait to see if she wakes up. If you’ll follow me,
I’ll take you to her room.”
They followed the doctor to the elevator. Ally tugged on Mickey’s hand while
they were riding up to the ICU, and he leaned down. “Where will I go if Mommy
has to stay at the hospital? Can I live here with her?”
Mickey’s heart felt like it was being stabbed at with a fiery pitchfork; Ally
was too young to be worrying about having a fucking place to live.
~ ~ ~
Mickey had gone to Juvie when he was 14 for a bullshit shoplifting charge.
Needless to say, his dad had taken care of the situation, but not until Mickey
had spent a couple of weeks on the inside. His cellmate during that time, Matt,
had been sentenced to a year for credit card fraud by using one of those
magnetic strip scanners on the credit card machine at the McDonald’s he’d been
working at. Mickey would have been impressed if the kid hadn’t been stupid
enough to get caught.
Matt was almost two years older than Mickey but nobody would believe it if they
saw the two standing side by side. It probably had a lot to do with the fact
that puberty had not treated Matt well: he was as skinny as a twig, covered in
acne and his voice was still changing.
Mickey had been riding the El for hours trying to figure out what the hell he
was going to do, and finally settled on finding Matt. The kid was a pushover,
and Mickey thought he could at least intimidate him into letting him stay over
long enough to come up with a better plan.
He remembered that Matt lived across from Packington Park, so he headed over
there and only banged on the doors of five wrong houses before finding the
right one. An old lady opened the door, baseball bat in hand.
“Is this where Matt Dixon lives?” Mickey asked, voice tired.
The woman eyed him, studying him from head to toe before turning her head and
calling down to the basement, “Matthew, ya got a visitor!” She proceeded to
hang the bat on a hook beside the door and walked back towards what Mickey
assumed was the living room.
“Milkovich?” Matt said from the stairs, and Mickey had to do a double-take,
because the guy that stood in front of him now was not the same pimply pre-teen
he remembered. For one thing, his acne had cleared up, but he’d also filled
out, no longer looking like a lanky adolescent. He looked… good.
“Wow, Dixon, that really you?” Mickey said with a smirk.
“Holy shit, Milkovich… What the fuck happened to your face?”
Mickey flicked his tongue out to the corner of his mouth, where he could still
taste blood from one of the many punches his father had delivered.
He shrugged at Matt. “Nothin’ I can’t handle. And stop callin’ me Milkovich.”
He stood there in front of the door, holding his bag, waiting for Matt to let
him in.
“What are you doing here, Mickey?” Matt wondered, still not stepping aside. He
looked scared, as if Mickey was there to hurt him or something. “Are you here
for…” He left the question hanging.
Mickey flicked his eyes in the direction of the old woman, checking to see if
she had heard. He wanted to punch Matt in the face for not being careful, but
that probably wouldn’t get him a place to stay, so he looked Matt in the eye
and shook his head.
“Let’s go downstairs,” Matt said, finally seeming to realize Mickey wasn’t
going to talk to him while standing on the freaking stoop. He pointed in the
direction of the stairs. “We’re going to the basement, grandma,” he yelled
before leading Mickey down.
“You need me to get you a band-aid or something?” Matt asked once they were
sitting on the couch in the den. The basement had been set up like a studio
apartment, only missing a kitchen.
 Mickey snorted. “Yeah, a fucking band-aid’s gonna help,” he spat. He knew he
looked like shit. Fuck, he    felt   like shit. “Look. I had to leave my house.
Can I stay here for a couple of days, ‘til I figure out what the hell I’m gonna
do?”
Matt looked confused, and rightfully so. They hadn’t seen each other in almost
two years, and it wasn’t like they were friends or anything. “Why me?” he
questioned..
“That’s none of your fucking business.”
 “    Well, it kind of     is    my business since you’re asking to stay at my
house…” Matt shot back.
Mickey took a deep breath and winced at the pain it caused in his chest. He
really hoped he didn’t have a broken rib. All he wanted to do was rest…
“‘Cause I can’t stay anywhere my dad’ll be able to find me, in case he decides
to finish what he started,” Mickey confessed.
Matt bit his lip and frowned. “Did he‒”
“Can we not talk about it?” Mickey interjected.
Matt frowned but nodded. “I’ll get some sheets for the couch. Wait here.”
~ ~ ~
"Remember when mommy got mad at you for eating all the fruit loops?" Ally
asked, her voice quiet, as if she was lost in thought.
"Yeah" Mickey nodded, scratching at the side of his head with his thumb.
"Dumbass shouldn't buy fruit loops if she didn't want me to eat the fucking
fruit loops."
"She was so mad," Ally laughed and the sound came out slightly hysterical, too
loud where her voice was so quiet, "and, and and you remember‒you remember that
she poured all the milk over your head?"
"Yeah," Mickey smirked, his throat tightening at his niece who looked like she
was barely keeping it together. "Right in the middle of a damn heatwave. I
stunk o' sour milk all day."
Ally snorted, her nose crinkling just like her mother's always did. "All week,
more like!"
"Hey, shut up!" Mickey retorted, nudging his shoulder into her arm and Ally's
lips turned up in a sad smile as she leaned into the touch, curling her hands
around his bicep and resting her head on his shoulder.
"Is mommy going to be okay?" she asked yet again and Mickey felt himself
deflate at the question,
"She's going to be fine, alright?" He answered, trying hard not to snap at her
because of this whole fucked up situation. His hands clenched into fists and he
wanted to run and fight until he felt nothing, just like he always did, but
instead he ran his knuckles along the length of Ally's arm and let out a long
sigh. "She's going to be fine."
  He repeated the words like a mantra in his brain and tried not to think about
the last time he had to do that, in a situation similar to this one but instead
it was his brother on the other side of the door and not his baby sister. He
didn’t     want    to think about it ever again.
They fell into silence and Mickey found himself listening to the sound of Ally
breathing beside him, little hiccups of air rushing out of her as she tried to
keep from crying.
"Hey Ally-Pally," he said quietly, his thumb stroking along her cheek, and he
wanted to laugh as she pulled a face at the nickname. Mickey only ever called
her that when she was annoying him or when he wanted a reaction out of her and
he fought back a smile as he got one. She arched her head up and glared at him
and he playfully pushed her face away from him. "Let's play some cards or
something, alright?"
"You got cards?" she asked, sniffing and rubbing at her nose with her hand.
"Uh huh. Wanna play snap?" He raised his eyebrows at her and she shrugged,
twisting her lips in thought.
"Uhhh, Go Fish," Ally decided as she started to chew on the skin of her finger.
"You remember how to play don't you?"
Mickey glanced at her, his fingers twitching with the need for a cigarette. "I
remember you always cheat and peek at the cards before you choose them."
"Do not!" Ally protested, her voice rising as her eyebrows knitted together.
"Do too," Mickey replied, just to be a jerk, and Ally shoved at his arm.
"Nuh uh" she argued, her jaw jutted in defiance.
"Shut up and deal the cards, alright?"  Mickey felt around in the jacket of his
pockets and pulled out the deck of cards. He dropped them in her lap and Ally
laughed as she pulled the cards from their casing.
"How about fifty-two card pickup?" she asked and Mickey looked at her dryly.
"As long as I ain't gotta do the picking up."
Ally grinned at him then, wide and toothy and she got a playful glint in her
eye before she stood up on her chair and threw the cards up into the air,
spinning around as they showered down around her.
Mickey laughed as he ignored the glares they were getting from the nurses
across the hall and for a moment‒with Ally's high pitched laugh and her arms
thrown wide‒they were able to forget what was happening around them.
~ ~ ~
Matt let Mickey stay with him at his grandparents’ place for a whole week
before bringing up what had happened to cause Mickey to leave his house.
“Look, I know you said you didn’t wanna talk about it, but if this is gonna be
a long-term thing, I think you can at least give me an explanation. What the
hell happened?”
They were sitting upstairs in the kitchen, playing cards with his grandpa.
Mickey glared at Matt and then flicked his eyes in the direction of the old
man.  
 “    His hearing aid’s off     ‒     he can’t hear shit. Can you please tell
me what’s got you so scared that you’ve been hiding out in my basement?”
Mickey eyed Matt from behind his cards, debating whether or not he was going to
say anything. The guy had been nice, and hadn’t given Mickey any reason to not
trust him. “Hit me,” Mickey said, tapping the table.
Matt dealt him another card and then looked at his grandpa, who signaled that
he wanted another card too. “Black Jack!” the old man exclaimed happily,
flipping over his hidden card.
“GOOD JOB, GRANDPA,” Matt said in a loud shout.
“Huh?”
Matt plastered on a big smile and gave his grandpa a thumbs up.
“Wipe that smile off your face and deal again,” the old man ordered in
response. Matt collected the cards and shuffled them, watching Mickey and
patiently waiting for an answer.
“He really can’t hear anything?”
Matt shook his head. “Not a thing. Watch this.” He turned towards his grandpa.
“I stole your social security check last week and used it to buy a shitload of
weed.” There was no reaction from the old man, who was still in a good mood
from his victory in the previous round.
“Believe me now?” he asked Mickey.
Mickey was about to reply but the geriatric cut him off. “You’re taking
forever, brat. Just deal already.”
Matt and Mickey both laughed.
“Alright, alright,” Mickey conceded once they’d calmed down. He watched Matt
deal the next round.
“Did he find out you’re gay?”
Mickey pushed away from the table, the chair making a screeching sound as its
legs scraped against the tiles of the kitchen floor. Matt’s grandpa looked at
his cards and frowned. “I’ll stay,” he said to Matt, completely unaware of what
was going on around him.
“I’m not a fucking faggot!” Mickey spat, getting up. “Who the fuck do you think
you are? You think you know me ‘cause we shared a fucking cell for a couple of
weeks?”
“No,” Matt said through clenched teeth. “I think I know you ‘cause you had your
dick in my ass about twenty times, even though you were only my cellmate for
two weeks. I think I know you ‘cause you never tried to choke me while I gave
you head like the other guys before you did. No, you would run your fingers
through my hair and tell me how good it felt. I think I know you,” he stopped
and gave himself another card from the deck,” because you made sure nobody
would touch me when you got out.”
He pointed to Mickey’s chair. “Now sit your ass down and tell me what the fuck
happened.”
~ ~ ~
Later that night, Ally was asleep, the only sounds in the room coming from the
machine breathing for Mandy and the ever-beeping heart monitor. There was a
light knock on Mandy’s hospital room door. Mickey looked up from his chair and
saw the same cute EMT that had brought his sister to the hospital.
“Can I come in?”
Mickey shrugged his shoulders and the redhead walked into the room.
“My shift ended a little while ago, so I thought I’d come and see how she was
doing.”
“Whatever,” Mickey muttered. “Just keep your voice down,” he added, motioning
towards his sleeping niece.
“Got it.” He took a step closer and glanced at Mandy’s chart which hung at the
foot of the bed. “So, uh, Mickey… do you remember me?”
Mickey rubbed the back of this thumb along his lower lip. He used to know the
younger Gallagher. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that
their connection wasn’t just that Mickey was in Lip’s class. He remembered Ian
from when they’d been in little league together: the one kid with skin paler
than his own, his freckles getting darker after every game played under the
sun. He remembered the green eyes that never looked away, even when they were
filled with fear, and the sound of Ian’s laugh as Mickey pissed all over first
base. He didn't remember seeing Ian after that, too wrapped up in his own life
and going to Juvie and running away.
“Gallagher… from over on Wallace Street.”
A smile grew on Ian’s face. “Yeah. So this is Mandy’s kid? What’s her name?”
“Allison.”
“Huh. I thought all of the Milkovich names ended in a Y.”
“We call her Ally,” Mickey amended.
“Oh, well that makes more sense,” he said with a little chuckle. Mickey almost
smiled too, somehow feeling comfortable and relaxed around the redhead.
“I still can’t believe she did it all by herself. Didn’t the dad want to help?”
  Mickey’s momentary lightness evaporated, and he clenched his fists, ignoring
the pain as his jagged nails bit into his flesh again. He felt his lip curl up
into a sneer, anger tightening in his chest. For a moment he had been able to
relax. Ian had distracted him and calmed him, but he should have known better.
Who the fuck did this guy think he was, judging Mandy? As if     the Gallaghers
were such a perfect fucking family?
“You better watch your fucking mouth, Gallagher,” he threatened.
~ ~ ~
A day didn’t go by without Mickey thinking about Mandy and the baby, regretting
the way he’d abandoned his sister, knowing she would have to drop out of school
to take care of Ally.
“What’s so special about today?” Matt wondered.
 “  What?” Mickey said, snapping out of his reverie and going back to 
shovelling  cereal into his mouth.
“You’ve been staring at the calendar. Is today special or something?”
Mickey blushed, not realizing he’d become so transparent. “Nah. Well, yeah,
sorta. It’s Ally’s first birthday.”
“Oh.” Matt ate a spoonful of his own breakfast. “You gonna visit?”
Mickey snorted. There was no way he was going to risk going back to that house
of horrors‒not while his dad was still there. He felt another pang of guilt at
knowing that he had left Mandy to deal with Terry all alone, because he was
100% sure Iggy and Joey wouldn’t be any fucking help.
“Maybe you should call…?” Matt suggested.
Mickey mulled over the idea. He was dying to know how they were doing. He
missed the sound of his niece’s giggles and the way her eyes would actually
light up when he went to pick her up from her crib in the mornings, his face
the first thing she saw.
“Yeah… maybe I’ll give her a call when I get back from work,” he said, standing
and pulling up the top half of his overalls. The garage was only a ten minute
bus ride from Matt’s place, but he was going to be late if he didn’t get his
ass to the bus stop in time.
“Cool, man. Say hi to my uncle for me.”  Mickey waved a hand behind him as he
ran out, excited to get the day over with and to finally call home after four
long months without a word.
~ ~ ~
Ian looked genuinely taken aback by Mickey’s sudden anger. He lifted his hands
up, as if in surrender.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Mickey. Seriously…” Gallagher took a step back,
away from Mandy’s bed, away from him, and Mickey felt a fraction of his sudden
anger dissipate.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ian explained. “I used to have a few classes with
Mandy back in high school.” Mickey watched him switch his gaze from Mandy’s
comatose form to Ally, sleeping in the recliner one of the nurses had brought.
“She’s like a mirror image of her… Even the way she’s napping. God, I remember
this one time in history when Mandy fell asleep and‒”
“What the hell are you doing here, Gallagher?” Mickey didn’t have the energy to
deal with this guy right now.
“I told you… My shift ended so I came to see how she was doing,” Ian repeated.
 “     Cut the crap. You aren’t friends with my sister‒you ain’t a fuckin’
junkie or drug dealer, so that means she wouldn’t give you a second’s
notice‒and nobody who ‘used to have a few classes with her’ would give a shit
about her now.       What the fuck       are you doing here?”
The words echoed in the silent room.
~ ~ ~
“I love you,” Matt said, running his fingers down Mickey’s back, making him
shiver. “And before you flip out, no, I don’t expect you to say it back. I know
you don’t feel that way about me… but I had to tell you before you left.”
Mickey froze, not sure how to respond, so instead of dealing with it, he sat up
in bed and reached for his pack of smokes on the bedside table. Lighting one,
he took a few puffs and held it out behind him for Matt. The older boy’s long,
warm fingers enveloped Mickey’s hand as he picked up the cigarette.
“What makes you think I’m going anywhere?” Mickey asked instead.
Matt took his time with the cigarette, watching the smoke rise from its glowing
tip. “Mandy called today, wanting to know why you haven’t called her back…”
Mickey scowled and yanked the cigarette back despite the fact that Matt was
mid-smoke. Of course his sister would talk to Matt about it. Bitch didn’t know
how to mind her own business.
“She wanted to know if you’ve decided whether or not you’re going home,” he
said bluntly. “Have you decided?”
Mandy had told him about Terry’s incarceration two weeks ago. She’d called him
every single day since, begging him to come home, complaining about having to
get a job in order to restock the fridge, and having no one to babysit Ally.
“No. I haven’t.”
“I think you should go. You’ve had a real job at the garage for ten months now.
You can help her out… and I know how much you miss Ally.”
Mickey didn’t want to talk about this with anyone, let alone Matt. How could he
explain that he couldn’t go back to that house… to where his father had almost
killed him, all because he’d found one stupid porno mag that Mickey had
forgotten to hide properly.
Mickey did the only thing he knew how to do when someone pushed him to talk: he
pushed right back.
 “    Oh, you think I should go? Well you know what? I think     you    should
mind your own fucking business, faggot.”
 Matt let out a harsh laugh. “You’re right, Mickey. I    am   a faggot. But,
hey, ask yourself this: what the fuck are    you   doing here?”
Mickey went back to the Milkovich house the next morning.
~ ~ ~
“I don’t know,” Ian admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing here… Maybe you’re
right. Maybe I should just go.”
“Yeah, maybe you should.”
He turned and began walking to to the door, and Mickey felt his heart stutter
in his chest. He didn’t understand it; he didn’t know what was even happening.
His sister was laid up in the hospital and a guy Mickey wouldn’t have even met
otherwise was walking away from him and all Mickey felt was disappointed. Even
if he had overreacted, it was too late to do anything about it now. He bit down
on his tongue as he fought the urge to tell Ian to stop.
Ian hesitated when he reached the door. “Or maybe I should just grow a pair and
ask you out,” he said, facing Mickey again.
  Mickey blinked at Ian, his mouth falling open at the redhead’s bluntness. His
mind raced with questions and his heart pumped faster with surprise, but Mickey
couldn’t do anything but stand there.     How had Ian even known?
He finally looked up and met Ian’s eyes, only to find Ian staring back at him.
His expression was filled with uncertainty, just like Mickey remembered from
all those years ago when they were two scrawny kids in a world that hadn’t
crumbled down around them. Ian didn’t look away and Mickey felt the corners of
his lips begin to grow into a small smile, despite his nerves tingling under
his skin and his heart fluttering in his chest with fear. Ian’s own smile
returned, his shoulders relaxing as he untensed right under Mickey’s gaze.
Chewing on his bottom lip, Mickey answered with a nod.
 
***** Ian *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
  Chapter 4: Ian
“Possible overdose; 1955 South Trumbull Avenue.”
The call came in over the radio late in the evening. The operator gave them the
address so Anthony put away his phone and fastened his seatbelt while Ian
entered the address into the GPS. It wasn’t until the ambulance pulled up to
the front of the house and he looked upon the familiar brown, brick building
that Ian realized who lived there...
  It was the     Milkovich     house.
~ ~ ~
“You can’t go in there alone,” Ian said to his brother as they huddled behind a
pair of garbage cans across the street from the Milkovich house. He did a quick
peek over the top and saw that the lawn was littered with empty bottles and
trash from the previous night’s party.
“Your intentions are good, little bro, but I’m not letting you get hurt over
this,” Lip replied, patting Ian on the shoulder.
Ian shook his head defiantly. Lip was family, and the Gallaghers took care of
each other. There was no way he was going to let his big brother go talk to
Joey and Iggy alone, even if he had nothing to do with selling the Milkoviches
those essays.
Earlier that day, Fiona had called Lip in hysterics because the brothers had
come to the house, threatening to break bones if Lip didn’t come and talk to
them. Apparently the older Milkovich brothers had a problem with the English
papers Lip had sold them because they were ‘too gay’ or whatever, and‒despite
the excellent grades they’d gotten‒didn’t appreciate being associated with ‘any
kinds of faggots’.
“What’s the plan?”
Lip snuffed out his cigarette on the curb. “I’m gonna explain to them that
nobody will think they’re gay just because they wrote a paper calling out
someone else.”
Ian laughed at the idea of Lip trying to have a rational conversation with the
two dumbest thugs he’d ever seen. “And if that doesn’t work?”
“Well, that’s what this is for.” He tightened his grip on the bat he was
holding. “At least Mickey’s in Juvie, so it’ll be a somewhat fair fight.” He
stood up, and Ian followed suit.
Lip put a hand on Ian’s chest. “Seriously, Ian. I don’t need your help.”
“Seriously, Lip,” Ian mocked, “shut the hell up and pass me that brick.”
Lip shrugged, muttered that he tried, and they walked across the street
together.
~ ~ ~
Ian tossed the emergency kit over his shoulder and helped Anthony get the
stretcher from the back of the truck. They took the stairs two at a time and
Ian knocked on the door with the side of his fist. He felt slightly on a edge
in a way he hadn’t for a long time, a nervous fluttering in his stomach. He
dealt with people he knew on an almost daily basis and he was fine, but
something Ian couldn’t understand prickled at his skin.
  He didn’t know who he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, but
Mickey Milkovich was definitely not it. He’d been under the impression that the
youngest Milkovich brother had left town a long time ago. The man that stood
before him was     fucking hot    . The red and blue lights from the ambulance
behind them illuminated his pale, alabaster skin. His black hair was buzzed
short on the sides but the top was long enough to be slicked back into a style
that looked really good on him. He was short but by no means could be called
small, the defined muscles in his shoulders and arms showing through his thin
shirt. He was no longer the bad-boy with spiky black hair and a mean grin on
his face that Ian remembered.
He was mesmerized.
~ ~ ~
Ian heard the loud thwack of the ball as it connected with the bat, ricocheting
and flying out towards the stands. The crowd cheered and screamed, deafening
Ian's young ears, as the ball bounced to the ground by third base. Ian felt
excitement build in his chest as the ball got picked up by third and thrown
over to first base. The batter ran as fast as he could, his arms and legs
pumping harder than Ian had ever seen. As the batter noticed the ball flying
through the air towards him, he slid across the ground, dirt flying up around
him, dried mud spraying his face as he came to a stop with his foot touching
the base. Ian's eyes were on the batter as he looked around him frantically for
the ball.
When Ian realised he couldn't see the ball either he looked around for it,
hearing as the crowd became confused, falling almost silent in the stands. His
eyebrows pulled together as he looked around but the sun shone too brightly,
interfering with his vision. He glanced over at the boy on first and Ian's
breath caught in his throat as the boy produced the ball from behind his back,
his mouth turned up into a mean looking grin as he looked down at the batter.
The batter burst into tears.
The boy on first just laughed, a pile of dust kicking up into the batter’s face
as the boy on first moved to walk around him, wrenching his arm all the way
back and throwing the ball back over to the pitcher.
The crowd in the stands began to stir and make a fuss as the batter continued
to cry, wailing even louder as if he had been hurt. The coach rushed over to
him and rubbed at his back, offering words of comfort, but Ian wasn't
listening. Instead he kept his eyes on the first baseman.
He had black, spiky hair, darker than Ian had ever seen on anyone, and,
although he was small, he seemed bigger than almost everyone else on the team.
His face was drawn into a frown as he stared at the coach and umpire who were
now conferring, and Ian wondered what it was that he was hearing.
He didn't have to wonder for long because suddenly the umpire stood up and
looked around the stadium, eyes on the crowd before he yelled the call: "Safe!"
The crowd cheered and the batter threw his arms up in the air in a show of
triumph, all his tears gone. The players began to look around at each other,
muttering their protests, knowing that the ump had called it wrong. Ian watched
as the black haired boy's face darkened, his mouth tightening in anger before
he kicked at the ground and yelled, "Bullshit!"
His voice was loud even over the noises from the crowd and Ian watched,
excitement and nerves floating like butterflies in his stomach, as the coach
started to tell the boy off for arguing with the umpire. The boy pulled himself
out of the coaches grip and began yelling at him, cursing and spitting and Ian
looked over at the rest of the players as they began to fidget uncomfortably.
Just then the boy on first pulled down his pants and whipped out his dick,
bouncing on the balls of his feet as he started pissing all over his base.
Ian's mouth fell open as he watched the grin on the boy's face growing with
each passing second. He had never met anybody so cool in all his life.
After the game had been stopped and the crowds had emptied out, Ian started
looking for the boy. He wanted to tell him how cool he was and invite him over
to play with the new Nintendo 64 that his brother had managed to get, but he
couldn't find him.
While he was looking around, lost in a sea of parents and crying children, he
bumped into Lip. Lip was talking and laughing about something, but Ian wasn't
paying attention, too distracted looking around him. His brother tugged on his
jacket then, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck so that Ian had to face
forward. "You okay buddy?"
"I wanna find him"
"Find who?"
"The boy. The boy on first. He's so cool, Lip! Did you see him? Did you see
what he did? The coach was so mad!" Ian rambled excitedly, grinning up at Lip.
Lip frowned at him and shook his head.
"That's Mickey Milkovich and... No Ian. Not cool. The guy's trouble, okay?"
"You don't know that," Ian protested, his bottom lip jutting out in what was
definitely not a pout.
"He's in my class at school. He's trouble."
"But..."  Ian looked around him once again and he saw him then. The boy was
standing in the corner, his chin resting on his chest and his eyes cast to the
ground and he looked sad as the coach spoke in hushed, annoyed tones. He was no
longer the confident, brave boy that Ian had been so entranced by out on the
field. Ian's fingernails cut into his palm as he fought the urge to go over to
him.
"No buts, man. Now c’mon; Fiona wants to get home. She's waiting outside with
Debs."
Casting one more look over to the boy, Ian just let out a sigh as Lip batted
the side of his head playfully and pulled him along, heading outside.
~ ~ ~
The brunette inspected Anthony with distaste, his face twisting into a sneer
when he got to the blonde’s name tag, Miller obviously not being a South Side
name.
“We got a call about a possible overdose,” Ian managed to say, swallowing down
his previous nerves and slipping back into professional mode. He was here to do
his job and couldn’t risk wasting any more time by letting a fight break out
for absolutely no reason.
His words must have gotten Mickey’s attention because the man broke from his
glare at Anthony and instead focused on Ian. Mickey looked up at him‒Ian had
had a growth spurt during the tail-end of high school‒and the redhead
desperately fought the urge to stare into the bright blue pools of Mickey’s
eyes for fear of drowning in them.
“Is this the right house?” Anthony cut in, snapping Ian out of his momentary
distraction.
Mickey stepped aside and pointed to one of the bedrooms. Ian and Anthony moved
hastily in the direction he’d indicated. For the first time, Ian noticed a
short, black-haired girl standing half-hidden behind Mickey’s legs. “Stay in
the living room,” he heard Mickey order the girl, who was the spitting image of
Mandy Milkovich from when he knew her back in the day. He was sure that this
little girl was Mandy’s daughter; they had the same defiant eyes.
Anthony set the stretcher down against the wall and helped Ian take some
equipment out of the bag. Ian quickly assessed the scene: the victim was lying
limply on the bed, looking at the ceiling. The room was dank and heavy with the
smell of stale urine, vomit and vinegar, the latter probably from cooking down
heroin. There was evidence of habitual drug use on her forearms and her thin,
emaciated form was covered haphazardly by a blanket. Ian knelt beside the bed
and checked for a pulse. It was barely there.
“What's her name?" Anthony asked once Mickey followed them into the room.
Ian beat him to it. “Mandy" he called, leaning in close to her face and shining
a flashlight in to her eyes. Her pupils were unresponsive to the light. "Mandy,
can you hear me?"
  That was     not     a good sign. Ian cradled Mandy’s face gently between his
strong hands, concern etched on his face. What the hell had Mandy Milkovich
gotten herself into?
"Okay, I need to know exactly what she's taken and how much,” Ian said, turning
to look at Mickey. He saw the panic overtake the brunette who was staring at
Mandy’s body, his eyes locked on his sister, his breathing quickening and the
color draining from his face.
"Mickey!" Ian yelled. Mickey blinked at him. "I need to know what she's taken,"
he said again.
"I don't know!" Mickey snapped, rubbing his hand along his soft, thick lips,
the motion distracting Ian. "Fuck."
Anthony stood and approached Mickey cautiously. "Has your sister been feeling
low lately? Shown any signs that she wanted to harm herself?"
Ian knew the blonde didn’t know any better. He wasn’t from this neighborhood
and the question needed to be asked, but the tactless way he’d gone about
saying it immediately got an adverse reaction out of Mickey.
"You asking if she fuckin’ did this on purpose?"
Ian couldn’t see Mickey’s face but he knew from the sound of cracking knuckles
that something was going to happen if he didn’t intervene.
He put his arm on Mickey’s shoulder. He didn’t want Mickey to feel like he was
being ambushed, but it was by no means a gentle touch. He squeezed Mickey’s
shoulder a bit, and, when the brunette looked up at him, said, "Breathe,
Mickey. We just need to know as much as we can so that we can help her,
alright?"
His voice hitched, but he hoped he was calm enough to convey to Mickey that
they just wanted to help Mandy.
The man finally shrugged at him. "I don't fucking know what she took. I‒she's
been on a buncha shit for a while. I just got a call from my niece; she found
her like this. Says she was breathing all funny and shit."
"Alright..." Ian nodded, letting go of Mickey's shoulder, but he could still
feel the man’s warm skin where his fingers had touched it.
Ian continued to watch Mickey in concern, but had to tear his eyes away and
focus on Mandy. He and Anthony continued their procedures, checking Mandy’s
vitals and evaluating whether or not she needed to go to the hospital. Anthony
gave him a look, and Ian knew exactly what his partner was thinking: she
probably wasn’t going to make it.
Anthony rose and got the stretcher ready. Ian moved to the opposite end and
helped by lifting Mandy’s legs, then turned to face Mickey. “She’s breathing on
her own, but she’s not responding to light or sound, and as you can see, she
isn’t moving. We’re gonna take her to the hospital. You can ride along, if you
want,” he said, trying to be as helpful as possible.
Mickey nodded without saying anything to Ian. He told the girl to get dressed
and they all headed to the ambulance.
~ ~ ~
There was no blood this time.
Monica had been back for almost a month and a half. She had been different this
time... even Lip had warmed to her again as the weeks passed. She worked four
hours a night at the Alibi, made dinner for everyone, gave Fiona nights off and
even made packed lunches for school.
There were no signs this time.
Monica smiled, dancing along to the music playing from the radio as she made
eggs. She kissed all of the kids, told them she loved them and would see them
after school. She was the new favorite at the Alibi, flirting with the men and
kissing the girls. She and Kate were a force to be reckoned with. She took her
meds and she was happy.
There was no way of knowing this time.
Ian had forgotten his work shirt, clapped Lip on the shoulder and told him he'd
meet him at school. He raced home, yelled out a blind hello to his mom as he
ran up the stairs, not paying attention to where she was.
"I'm just getting my shirt‒you seen it?" he called out, but he didn't receive
an answer, "Monica?" he yelled, rooting through the laundry bag in his bedroom.
"My work shirt! I need it!"
Coming out of his bedroom he realized that the tap was running in the bathroom,
steam appearing out from under the closed door. He tapped sharply, irritated,
"Monica! I need my shirt. I'm going to be late!"
 "Moni‒ Mom,   you in there?" He knocked again, louder this time. "Monica!" He
slammed his palm against the door, yanking at the knob. It pulled open and Ian
jerked out of the way, stepping inside, "Monica. Didn't you hear me knocking?"
Ian could hear the sound of splashing. When he looked down he realized that the
bathtub was overflowing, water spilling over the sides, pooling on the floor.
"What the fuck?" He yanked the shower curtain back and his heart jumped into
his throat. "MONICA!" His feet slipped on the wet floor as he raced to bend
down and pull her out of the water.
His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her head above the water. Wet
knots of blonde hair tangled in his fingers and her body was limp, heavy in his
arms. "Mom?" His voice was shaky, his breathing erratic and his vision was
blinded with tears as he shook her. "MOM!" he cried out, "Mom, get up!"
Unsure of what to do, he reached around blindly and managed to turn off the
tap, his eyes on his mom's face. Her whole body was red and hot, burning from
the scalding water. Ian winced in pain as he splashed his hand through the
water, reaching for the plug. It came away with a tug and the water began to
drain noisily. "Mom, please," he pleaded, hugging her to his chest and fighting
back a sob.
He tried everything he’d seen in the movies and learned in his basic junior
ROTC training–he cleared her throat, he pumped her stomach. He did everything
that he had ever been taught, but to no avail. He sat in the corner of the
bathroom, helpless and feeling completely useless as the EMTs arrived and got
to work. His limbs wouldn’t work. He tried to move, tried to speak but he
couldn’t function, couldn’t look away from his mother’s face, paler than he had
ever seen. More peaceful than he had ever seen. The EMTs worked as hard as they
could and Ian could do nothing except watch‒half in awe, half in a numb state
of shock as they fought to get her breathing again.
There was no saving her this time.
~ ~ ~
Ian couldn’t help thinking about his mother, the reason he’d ultimately decided
to become an EMT. It happened from time to time when family members would ride
along in the back of the ambulance. He watched the little girl beside Mickey as
she clutched her mom’s hand, hope and fear battling behind her icy blue eyes.
Ian methodically put an oxygen mask over Mandy’s face, making sure to fully
cover her nose and mouth with the plastic seal. Her vitals were dropping
quickly, and Ian hoped the doctors would have better luck than he was having.
They were only a couple of minutes away from the hospital now.
  He glanced at Mickey and saw that the brunette was looking away, staring,
unseeing, out of the ambulance’s rear, frosted windows. Ian understood; he knew
it could be hard to watch, but he also wondered when he’d become so used to it.
He     knew     how horrible Mickey was feeling. Fuck, one wrong decision and
that could have easily been one of his sisters lying unconscious on the
stretcher. He closed his eyes, pushing the unwelcome images of Debbie and Fiona
out of his mind.
  The ambulance pulled into the Emergency Room loading bay and Anthony opened
the back doors. Together with Ian, they pulled the stretcher down and out. Two
residents were waiting to receive     the patien    t Mandy. Anthony gave the
doctors her vitals and the two EMTs lifted her onto a gurney for the hand-off.
  Ian wanted to offer a kind word or     something     to let the two
Milkoviches know that it would be okay, but his mind was blank. He watched them
follow the doctors, disappearing through the hospital doors. Mickey didn’t look
back; but then again, Ian didn’t expect him to.
“Let’s get going, Gallagher,” Anthony said to him once the doors had closed.
When Ian didn’t show any indication of moving, the blond patted him on the
back. “We did everything we could, right? If some junkie wants to fuck up her
life, it doesn’t matter what that dickhead brother of hers does and it doesn’t
matter what we do. She made that call.”
Ian scowled at how heartless Anthony could be, and it reminded him of how
different they really were. Ian knew that, living on the South Side, sometimes
the choice wasn’t really up to you. Sometimes fucked up shit just happened.
“What a waste of time…” Anthony muttered, getting back into the ambulance. Ian
followed.
~ ~ ~
 “    Overdoses, domestic abuse and gang violence… that’s all we’re ever gonna
see in this disgusting neighborhood. I can’t believe I got stuck in this sector
again. I should’ve known better than to play poker against fuckin’ Martinez.
You must have fucked up     real     bad to get assigned here permanently!”
 “    Something like that…” Ian said, biting his tongue to keep from saying
something he’d regret. Ian had     requested     this neighborhood, but Anthony
sure as hell didn’t need to know that.
~ ~ ~
  Anthony had been his partner for almost two years now, and although they
weren’t exactly best friends, Ian had grown to like the other EMT. To start
with, he was easy on the eyes, but he spent     way    too much time at the
tanning salon. They lived in Chicago, for God’s sake. Nobody would believe that
his dark skin tone was a natural occurrence. Anthony may have come off as
condescending and arrogant to some people, but that was only a result of
ignorance. It only took Ian a few weeks to see the compassion behind the snooty
upbringing; the blond became an EMT to help people‒to actually save
lives‒despite occasionally being rude and rubbing people the wrong way, and he
was     very     good at his job.
Ian had come clean about being from the South Side a month into them being
assigned together as partners. It had taken him another two months after that
to tell Anthony that he was gay, and to his surprise, the EMT hadn’t cared. He
actually didn’t give a shit, which was not what Ian had been expecting. In
fact, on the night he decided to come out to Anthony, they’d gone out for
drinks at the Alibi Room after their shift. It had been refreshing, to be able
to be himself around someone for a change, instead of worrying about what other
people would think.
They only had two more calls that night. The first was a drunk driving
accident, and once they’d determined that the driver wasn’t injured, they’d
given the cops the okay to arrest the idiot. The man had been so inebriated
that he had insisted the hydrant he’d driven into had moved on its own, into
his path. The second was a call to the nursing home that Ian’s old neighbor
Veronica used to work at. One of the elderly residents there had been
experiencing chest pains and the nurse on the overnight shift had called 911.
“Slow night,” Anthony said, taking a bite out of the apple he’d brought along.
Ian shrugged his shoulders, not really interested in making small talk. He
stared out the window of the ambulance at the street lamp above them, where he
could see tiny snowflakes just beginning to float through the air, not actually
landing, but swirling around in the wind.
“Dude, what’s got you all mopey?”
Anthony’s voice startled him. He didn’t know how long he’d zoned out.
“Nothing. I don’t know. It was weird seeing Mandy like that,” he confessed.
“The OD?”
Ian nodded.
Anthony raised an eyebrow. “You knew her?”
Ian nodded again. “I had a few classes with her in high school but she dropped
out when she had her baby,” he elaborated.
“Doesn’t sound like you were then close, man. What’s the deal?” Anthony wasn’t
as stupid as people assumed, and Ian frowned, knowing that his partner had
picked up on his emotions.
 “     It’s just hard to see, you know? She wasn’t always like that. She was
one of the ones that       cared      . I mean, that could have just as easily
been one of       my       sisters. One wrong decision and it could have been
them. It sucks.”
 “     Yeah, but like you said, it takes a wrong decision. It’s not like
someone       forced      her to start using. You need to stop thinking about
it. Wanna get a drink at the Alibi?”
“Shit, is it six already?” With the sky being covered in clouds, he hadn’t
realized their shift had come to an end. “Actually, think you could drop me off
at the hospital? I think I want to check on Mandy‒the girl.”
Anthony snorted, and made no effort to hide the fact that he thought it was a
waste of Ian’s time, but drove him to the ER nevertheless.
~ ~ ~
History would have to be Ian’s least favorite subject. In fact, he could think
of hundreds of things he’d rather do than learn about what some dead guys did
way back when. However much Ian wanted to zone out, he actually had to pay
attention because it was an important day: they were being assigned partners
for their end-of-term projects.
Mr. Bancroft read the names off of robotically from his attendance roster,
matching up the A last names with the Z last names until he got to the middle.
Ian was partnered with Jacqueline Thompson, and he nodded in her direction to
let her know he’d heard.
The bell finally rang, ending the tortuous class, and all of the other students
gathered up their notebooks and bags to flee the room as quickly as possible.
Ian stood and picked up his bag from the ground, putting his binder into it
carefully. The bag was a hand-me-down from his sister Fiona and had a slight
tear on the left side, right by the zipper. If he just threw his books into it,
the safety pins tentatively holding it together wouldn’t last long.
It was because he was taking his time that Ian was still in the classroom to
hear the conversation that followed.
Mandy Milkovich approached Mr. Bancroft’s desk when most of the class had
cleared out.
“You didn’t assign me a partner,” she accused.
“This is a project for the end of the semester, Miss Milkovich,” the teacher
replied, blatantly staring at her now very visible belly.
“I want a partner,” she insisted.
Mr. Bancroft sighed. “You won’t even be around at the end of the year, and it
wouldn’t be fair to whoever I partnered you up with.”
 “    I’m     not     quitting school just because I’m pregnant. If you don’t
give me a partner, how will I do the project?” Ian looked up then, studying
Mandy’s profile intently. From what he’d heard from the other students, she was
about eight months pregnant already, but had only recently started showing. She
still came to school every day, went to every class (despite it taking her
longer to physically make it into the classrooms), and completed every
assignment. Ian was impressed.
“Well, I’m sure we can come to an understanding if you’re still here at the end
of the year. I can give you an extra credit assignment so that you can bring
your grades up,” he told her with a lascivious smirk, eyes going from his pants
to her mouth and back.
Ian almost gagged from the insinuation when he noticed the bulge in Mr.
Bancroft’s pants from his obvious erection.
“She can be my partner,” he called from the back of the classroom. Mandy jumped
a little, not having realized anyone else was still there. He walked closer to
them and kept his eyes trained on Mandy, ignoring Mr. Bancroft’s awkward
shuffling of papers to put over his crotch. “I doubt Jackie would mind the
three of us working together,” Ian explained.
“Well, that’s very kind of you to offer, Mr. Gallagher, but then your team of
three would have an advantage over the other students.”
Ian took a deep breath to calm himself but stupidity was something he just
couldn’t deal with. “First you say that you don’t want to put anyone at a
disadvantage because you think she’s gonna quit, and then you say that we would
have an advantage if she joined our team because we’d have an extra person?
Well, which one is it?”
Mr. Bancroft opened his mouth to respond but Mandy huffed out an annoyed
breath. “I didn’t ask for your help. Gallagher, so mind your own fucking
business! I can do the project alone, without pity from any of you.”
With that, she stormed out of the class.
Ian didn’t know what he’d said or done wrong that had pissed Mandy off so much.
He genuinely wanted to help her, and she had just brushed him off. She didn’t
talk to him again after that.
~ ~ ~
After a few questions to one of the triage nurses, Ian headed up to the ICU.
Once he was outside of Mandy’s room, he stopped to collect his thoughts. His
heart was racing the way it used to all those years ago, when he used to go to
work at the convenience store, before he and Kash actually hooked up. He
glanced inside and saw Mickey sitting in a chair beside the bed, chewing on his
fingernails while the little girl slept in a recliner.
Even though the door was open, Ian felt awkward just walking in, so he knocked
lightly on the door. “Can I come in?” he asked after the brunette had looked up
and made eye contact. Mickey shrugged his shoulders and Ian took it as a go-
ahead to walk into the room.
“My shift ended a little while ago, so I thought I’d come and see how she was
doing,” he explained. It wasn’t a complete lie; he really did care to see how
Mandy was doing.
“Whatever. Just keep your voice down,” Mickey told him while pointing to the
sleeping girl.
“Got it.” Ian took a step closer and glanced at Mandy’s chart which hung at the
foot of the bed. They had her on a respirator because she’d stopped breathing
on her own. Ian bit his lip, fully aware of the fact that he was being
watching. He put the chart down, and, finally out of things to do to distract
himself from how uncomfortable he was feeling just standing there, asked Mickey
the question that felt like it was burning its way through him.
“So, uh, Mickey… do you remember me?”
Mickey rubbed the back of this thumb along his lower lip, the same, hypnotic
gesture that had distracted Ian earlier at the house. He looked Ian up and
down, just like he’d done to Anthony earlier that night, but with a lot less
contempt. Ian had to work hard to not blush from Mickey’s evaluating stare.
“Gallagher… from over on Wallace Street.”
Ian was beaming with the knowledge that Mickey remembered him too. “Yeah,” he
said with a grin. He suddenly felt the need to change the topic of
conversation. He looked around the room for anything else of note and spotted
the sleeping girl again. “So this is Mandy’s kid? What’s her name?”
“Allison,” Mickey said bluntly.
He did a quick run-through of all the Milkoviches he could think of, which was
pretty easy considering their notoriety in their neighborhood: Terry, Iggy,
Tony, Joey, Mickey, Mandy. “Huh. I thought all of the Milkovich names ended in
a Y,” he teased, because as far as Ian knew, that was actually a fair
assessment.
“We call her Ally,” Mickey said, head to the side as if admitting to something
he shouldn’t, and unsure as to why.
“Oh, well that makes more sense,” Ian replied, laughing softly. He could have
sworn that a smile was pulling at the corners of Mickey’s lips too, and
relieved that the brunette seemed to be relaxing around him.
“I still can’t believe she did it all by herself,” Ian said, throwing in the
complement to Mandy. He knew how hard it was raising a baby as a single parent
from watching his sister Fiona take care of him and his younger siblings.
“Didn’t the dad want to help?” he wondered, curious.
The change in Mickey’s mood was instant. His lip curled up into a sneer and Ian
saw him clench his fists.
“You better watch your fucking mouth, Gallagher,” he snarled at Ian.
Ian was taken aback by Mickey’s sudden anger. What the hell had he said? He
lifted his hands up, trying to show Mickey he hadn’t meant anything by the
comment. He hadn’t meant to imply anything about Mandy or suggest that she
wasn’t worth a guy sticking around for, but from Mickey’s reaction, that was
exactly how the older man had taken it.
 “     I didn’t mean anything by it, Mickey. Seriously…” Ian wanted to fix
things immediately‒      needed       to fix it‒because this was       not 
how he’d wanted things to go. Seeing Mickey’s rage building, Ian new that the
best thing to do was to take a step back, away from Mickey, and give him some
space.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ian tried explaining. He wanted Mickey to know
that he had really admired Mandy. “I used to have a few classes with Mandy back
in high school.”
He looked from Mandy to Ally. “She’s like a mirror image of her… Even the way
she’s napping,” he said in an attempt to change the subject. “God, I remember
this one time in history when Mandy fell asleep and‒”
“What the hell are you doing here, Gallagher?” Mickey cut him off.
“I told you… My shift ended so I came to see how she was doing...”
 “     Cut the crap. You aren’t friends with my sister‒you ain’t a fuckin’
junkie or drug dealer, so that means she wouldn’t give you a second’s
notice‒and nobody who ‘used to have a few classes with her’ would give a shit
about her now.       What the fuck       are you doing here?”
It felt like forever in the silence that followed before Ian stammered out that
he didn’t know. “I don’t know what I’m doing here…” his words trailed into
nothing, and he suddenly regretting coming. He’d obviously mistaken whatever he
thought he’d seen in Mickey’s blue eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should
just go.”
“Yeah, maybe you should.”
Mickey’s comment settled it. He turned and began walking to to the door,
kicking himself for letting his dick do the thinking. He had no reason to think
that Mickey Milkovich would have been interested in him. Maybe Lip had been
right all those years ago at the Little League game; maybe Mickey was just
trouble.
  So why did Ian feel so alive around him? Why did he feel like he was giving
up something he didn’t even have by walking away? He didn’t want to leave. He
couldn’t     leave‒not when it felt like everything he wanted was in this room.
He couldn’t pussy out. He     wouldn’t    pussy out. He would try, even if it
was pointless. He would at least try.
So he turned back before walking out the door, and looked Mickey right in the
face before saying, “Or maybe I should just grow a pair and ask you out.”
Mickey blinked at him, clearly shocked. Ian wanted to look away. In fact, he
wanted to run back home and hide in his bed like he used to do when he was
younger, but he couldn’t. His eyes were stuck on Mickey’s, both men just
watching the other until something gave and Mickey actually smiled and nodded.
It completely transformed the brunette, taking him from an intimidating thug
who you wouldn’t even trust to take your garbage out to someone who looked much
younger, more approachable and almost friendly. It was a wonderful thing to
see, and made Ian smile back in turn.
~ ~ ~
“He’s gay, right?” Lip asked him when he got back to their table with another
pitcher.
“Who? The bartender?”
Lip nodded but Ian shook his head. “What makes you think that?”
“The way he’s laughing.”
Ian chuckled and discretely pointed at the bar. “See that fat guy sitting at
the end?”
“Mhmm…”
“Well, he’s been buying drinks for that blonde girl two seats over for the last
hour.”
“So?”
“So, the guy doesn’t know that that’s the bartender’s girlfriend, waiting for
him to finish his shift.” The bartender had told Ian why he was in such a good
mood when he’d gone to get more beer, and they’d had a good laugh about it.
“Oh.” His brother’s face looked defeated.
“Yeah.”
Lip poured them both some more beer and took a sip from his glass. “How the
fuck can you tell then?”
“Tell?”
“When someone’s gay,” he clarified.
Ian sighed. “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t have spent all that time
crushing on Peter.”
Lip burst into laughter and almost choked on his beer. Peter had been Lip’s
roommate during his sophomore and junior years at college.
“Holy shit, little bro. Is that why you came to visit me so often?”
Ian could feel his cheeks turning red and avoided looking up at his older
brother. “Maybe…” he conceded.
Lip couldn’t stop laughing, making Ian feel more and more embarrassed. “Can you
stop?”
The older man shook his head and Ian huffed out in annoyance. “You’re supposed
to be here to congratulate me, not mock me for having terrible gaydar...”
Lip finally calmed down after a few deep breaths. “You’re right, you’re right.
To Ian,” he said, lifting his glass, “my little brother slash cousin….” Lip
could never give up an opportunity to remind Ian of his fucked up parentage,
and Ian kicked him from underneath the table for bringing it up. Lip didn’t
even flinch and continued his toast. “Congratulations on finally deciding what
you want to do with your life, for finishing that shitty class at Malcolm X,
and for passing your licensing test.”
Lip smirked at him but Ian still raised his glass to meet his brother’s,
clanking them together hard enough to send some of the cold liquid splashing
onto Lip’s shirt. “Hey! Not cool! I have to get back to the lab in like twenty
minutes and now I’m gonna smell like Coors Light!”
Ian shrugged nonchalantly. “Cheers,” he said, grin forming around the rim of
his glass as he took a sip of the beer.
~ ~ ~
Ian was so relieved his gut hadn’t steered him wrong. “Great,” he said eagerly.
“There’s a nice diner across from the hospital that makes delicious pancakes.”
“What, you mean now?” Mickey looked at Ally quickly.
“Yeah, you guys probably haven’t eaten since yesterday, right? Plus, the
cafeteria food here sucks ass‒trust me.”
“But…” The brunette worried his lip, looking anxiously from his niece to his
sister. “I can’t just leave her here.”
“Leave her?” Ian laughed. “Are you crazy? Why would you leave her?”
“You don’t mind me bringin’ a kid along?”
  Ian narrowed his eyebrows at Mickey, surprised that the brunette would think
that. “No… I like kids,” he said slowly. “And I wouldn’t expect you to     not
bring her,” he added.
Mickey took a moment to mull something over, and Ian started to worry again. He
told himself to relax‒that Mickey had already accepted the offer to go‒but he
couldn’t understand what there was to still think about.
“She doesn’t know,” Mickey almost whispered. He met Ian’s gaze guiltily. “No
one does.”
“Oh…”
~ ~ ~
“But Fiona! That’s not fair!” Debbie actually stomped her foot at the injustice
of it all and Ian tried his hardest not to laugh at her. Fiona obviously wasn’t
as strong and laughed at their little sister’s mini tantrum.
“Debs, you know the track record of Gallagher holidays isn’t the greatest. Last
Thanksgiving Frank pissed in the turkey and we had to eat the bald eagle
leftovers we’d kept in the freezer for I don’t even know how long. The year
before that Monica had her breakdown. Oh and don’t get me started on how
Jimmy’s parent’s had that fight over who got to make the first toast at the
Labor Day barbeque. Do you really want to expose other people to our insanity?”
“I don’t care! I want to invite my boyfriend to dinner! Lip gets to invite his
girlfriends! Jimmy is always here and Carl brings Little Hank. I finally have a
boyfriend and I want him to come!” she shouted.
 “    One, Lip’s girlfriends are stupid sorority girls that bring a lot of
booze; two, Carl only gets to invite Little Hank because he would burn the
house down without the distraction; and three, Jimmy     lives     here. Of
course he’s gonna be at our holiday dinners. You don’t see Ian bringing anyone
over,” she tried to reason, giving him a half smile.
“That’s ‘cause Ian doesn’t have a boyfriend right now,” Debbie shot back.
Fiona froze and looked from one redheaded sibling to the other, mouth hanging
open slightly. “You… you told her?” she asked Ian.
 Ian quickly shook his head. He most definitely had    not    come out to his
younger siblings yet.
“He didn’t have to tell me anything. I’ve known for a while! Now can we get
back on topic?” she said, huffing in exasperation and sounding much older than
the pre-teen that she was.
Ian let out the breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. So now both of
his sisters knew that he was gay and didn’t give a shit. He didn’t hear the
rest of their conversation, mind too wrapped up in how the inevitable
conversation with Carl would go.
~ ~ ~
“Hey, I understand. I mean, living where we live… I get it. Let’s just go, have
something to eat at the diner, and talk. It’s not like I’m gonna fuck you on
the table in front of everyone, right?” He tried to crack a joke but the
expression of horror on Mickey’s face told him that the brunette was not
amused.
“Kidding, kidding… Come on. You can leave your cell number with the nurse and
she can call if anything changes,” he offered.
Mickey roused his niece and the three of them made their way out of the
hospital. Mickey took a cigarette out and placed it behind his ear before they
even got outside. Ian smirked, guessing from the way Mickey spun his lighter in
his hands that he had probably just gone hours without smoking. The brunette
caught Ian watching him and stopped fidgeting.
Once they got out of the elevator, the exit doors were straight ahead. “It’s
snowing!” Ally exclaimed happily. She sped off towards the door. Ian took his
jacket off and passed it to Mickey while tilting his head towards the girl,
knowing the two Milkoviches had been in such a state of panic that they’d both
forgotten to grab coats. Ian watched as Mickey ran after his niece with the
jacket, yelling at her to ‘chill the fuck out’.
 “     But it’s the first snow this       year      , Uncle Mickey,” Ally
explained. “You       know       what that means!”
Ian caught up with them. “What does the first snow of the year mean, Uncle
Mickey?” he asked Mickey with a teasing smile.
Mickey glared at him but begrudgingly answered. “A stupid tradition my sister
started with her. Every year, the first time it snows, they make hot chocolate
from scratch with actual chocolate, all while eating half of the bag of
marshmallows before they even get them into the drink,” he explained.
“That sounds like fun. Why are you being such a grump about it?”
 “     Yeah, Uncle Mickey. Don’t be a       grump      ,” Ally repeated.
 “     You know what, Ally? I know for a       fact       that the diner has
delicious hot chocolate,       and       marshmallows.”
Ally beamed at him. “Can we get some?”
Ian nodded, and leaned down so that he could whisper into her ear. “Definitely.
But we won’t give any to Uncle Mickey until he says the magic word, deal?”
“What the magic word?” Ally whispered back.
Ian closed his eyes for a second and thought of the most embarrassing word he
could think of. “Tinker Bell.”
Ally giggled and nodded to Ian conspiratorially. “Deal!”
~ ~ ~
Fiona was bending down to pull the remaining wet laundry out of the washing
machine when Ian entered the kitchen.
“Hey, you’re up?”
He nodded. He’d had off two nights in a row so he’d actually been able to catch
up on some well-needed sleep and wake up with the rest of the Gallaghers, for a
change.
“When’s your shift start today?” his sister asked.
“Got the overnight again, so not ‘til late,” he answered, picking an apple out
of the bowl and taking a loud, crunchy bite. “Why?”
Fiona’s head snapped to the stairs as Liam clambered down them, Nintendo DS in
hand.
“Come on, kiddo. We talked about this: no electronics at the table,” his sister
scolded. Liam put the game into his back pocket, muttering a half-hearted
apology. “Jimmy up?” she wondered.
“Shower,” Liam said, now distracted by the games on the back of his cereal box.
Jimmy came down the stairs a few minutes later, hair still wet and combed back.
He accepted a mug of coffee gratefully from Fiona. “Did Carl and Debs leave for
school yet?”
Fiona nodded to him. “Carl had to go in early for morning detention and Debbie
got a ride from her boyfriend,” she said with a grimace. “I know you guys think
I’m overreacting but there’s still something I don’t like about him… “
Jimmy put a hand on her shoulder and they exchanged a look that managed to
reassure Fiona and relax her at the same time. If Ian was being honest with
himself, it made him a little jealous. He’d never had that kind of a connection
with anyone.
“I was just about to ask Ian if he’d be able to pick up Liam from school and
watch him for a few hours,” Fiona told Jimmy, loud enough for Ian to hear,
breaking him from his reverie.
Liam, obviously not as consumed by the meaningless puzzle as they thought he
was, looked up at Ian, excitement flickering in his little brown eyes, waiting
for an answer. It was no secret that the youngest Gallagher loved Ian the most,
probably because he wasn’t as strict as Fiona was.
“Sure, I just need to head out by nine. Shift starts at ten and Anthony wants
to get some pizza before we start. You and Jimmy got a date planned or
something?”
Fiona let out a soft laugh but didn’t have a chance to answer his question
because Jimmy enveloped her into a hug. “See, I told you he wouldn’t mind.” He
started kissing Fiona behind her ear and worked his way around to her neck.
“Ugh, can you guys please do that somewhere else? Some of us are trying to
finish breakfast.”
“Yeah,” Liam chimed in.
~ ~ ~
“My little brother’s about your age,” he said once they settled in to one of
the booths at the diner. Ally had given Ian his jacket back and had insisted
that they sit near the window so she could watch the snow fall. She was sitting
beside Mickey, with Ian across from them.
 “     You have a little brother? Like,       little       little?” she said in
surprise.
“Yup, he’s eight. Wanna see?”
Ally nodded eagerly and Ian pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his
work pants, taking out a family photo. “This picture’s from Christmas,” he
explained. He put the picture flat onto the table so that Mickey would be able
to see.
“You have a fuckin’ family photo? Who the hell develops photos these days?” the
brunette ribbed.
Ian smiled, knowing exactly what Mickey meant. It was rare for his family to
have all been together at the same time, especially since Lip was still away at
grad school most of the year. They’d taken the picture and Fiona had developed
copies for all of them to keep, as well as the jumbo sized one she had framed
on the mantle.
“See, this little guy is my baby brother, Liam. He’s eight. Then the one with
the short hair is Carl, and right next to him is my little sister Debbie,
though I guess sixteen isn’t so little,” he chuckled to himself. Debbie had
gotten wilder and more rebellious than anyone had anticipated once she’d become
a teenager. “Her boyfriend was the one taking the picture.”
  Mickey sighed. “    Boyfriends   …     thank God Ally won’t have one of those
for a while.”
“Oh, just wait. It’ll happen before you know it,” Ian told him with a grin. He
looked back at the picture and pointed to Lip. “This is my big brother Lip. He
and your uncles used to know each other a long time ago.”
Ally glanced up at Mickey with a frown and looked back down at the picture,
pointing to Fiona. “Who’s this one?”
Ian made a mental note to ask the brunette about what had caused the change in
Ally’s mood later. “That’s my big sister, Fiona, and her husband Jimmy.”
 “     Jimmy?” Mickey interjected. “I       know       him. That’s       Steve
.”
~ ~ ~
Ian looked at Fiona with tears in his eyes. She was dressed in a long, white,
lace gown and matching veil that Sheila had sewn for her. His big sister, who
had been like a mother to him his whole life, was finally getting married.
 No one ever thought it would happen‒at least not to Fiona. She’d always gone
through boys, using them then losing them, just like a guy would… until she’d
met Steve, of course.    Jimmy   , he mentally corrected. It had been over two
years since that revelation and Ian    still   accidentally called him Steve
from time to time.
The priest motioned for Liam to come forward, taking the rings off of the
fluffy white pillow their youngest brother had carried to the altar, and
handing one to Fiona and another to Jimmy. He then asked them to repeat their
vows after him.
“I, James, take you, Fiona, as my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold
from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in
sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘til death do us part.” He
slipped the gold wedding band onto her left ring finger.
I, Fiona, take you, Jimmy-Steve,” she waited as everyone in the church,
including Jimmy, laughed, then continued, “as my lawfully wedded husband, to
have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or
for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘til death do us
part.” Fiona pushed Jimmy’s thicker ring onto his finger.
They smiled and looked at the priest, eager for the cue to kiss. “For as much
as Fiona and…” he paused, looked at Fiona, and upon seeing her nod, said,
“Jimmy-Steve have consented together in wedlock, and have witnessed the same
before this company of friends and family, and have given and pledged their
promises to each other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a
ring, and by joining hands. By the authority vested in me by the state of
Illinois, I pronounce this couple to be united in marriage. You may kiss.”
The church erupted with cheering and whistling as Fiona and Jimmy kissed in
front of everyone, and someone‒probably Carl‒prematurely threw the heart-shaped
rice at the couple before they’d even stepped off the altar. A hailstorm of
flying rice ensued as Jimmy grabbed Fiona’s hand and ran out of the church
faster than Mrs. Mangonatti could play Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” on the
organ.
~ ~ ~
“Your sister’s married to Steve Wilton?”
Ian hadn’t heard that name in years. He nodded a bit apprehensively. “How do
you know him?”
“I work with that fucker. He‒” Mickey paused and looked around the diner before
lowering his voice. “He steals high-end cars for my boss,” he whispered. “His
name’s really Jimmy?” Ian shrugged, not wanting to get into too much detail
about something that wasn’t really his secret to share. “Well, I guess that
makes sense. If you’re gonna steal cars, it would be smart to work under an
alias. Damn, I just saw the skinny shithead today…”
“You mean last night?”
 “    What-the-fuck-ever      . You know what I mean. He brought a sweet
Porsche in and was going on and on about taking his wife out for a special
dinner to celebrate.”
“Ah, no wonder they asked me to look after Liam…”
  The waitress came over to their table then. She was old, heavy-set and looked
very    tired. She wore her curly, black hair tucked into a hairnet, but it did
nothing to hide the fact that her hair was graying at the roots. She wiped her
hand on her faded teal apron, adding another smear of tomato sauce to the
already stained mix. She pulled a pen and notepad out of the apron’s pocket
before asking them what they wanted.
Ian realized the Milkoviches hadn’t looked at their menus yet. “The banana
pancakes are the best,” he suggested. Mickey nodded to him. “Two orders,” Ian
said to her, holding up his two fingers. He looked at Ally, questioningly.
“I want chocolate chips on mine,” Ally demanded.
“Do you have silver dollar pancakes?” Mickey asked the waitress. She nodded.
“‘Kay, so she’ll have an order of silver dollar pancakes with chocolate chips.”
“And whipped cream!”
 “    And whipped cream      ,” Mickey repeated to the waitress. “And three hot
chocolates with a shit-ton o’ marshmallows.”
Ally opened her mouth to protest but Ian held his finger to his lips to shush
her.
“So you work at a garage?” Ian asked, half in an attempt to distract Ally but
mainly to learn more about Mickey.
The older man’s entire demeanor changed, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah. I mean
I’ve always had a thing for cars.” He laughed quietly, more to himself than
anyone else. “My dad’s ride was a piece of shit. It was always breaking down,
and I liked opening up the hood and poking around. I didn’t think anything
would come of it… never saw myself actually working on them for a living.”
The waitress came back with their hot chocolates. Ian quickly passed one to
Ally and took a sip of his own, but moved the third mug out of Mickey’s reach.
The older man reached for it but Ian swatted his hand away.
“Ay, what gives?”
“Ally and I talked about it and we decided that you don’t get to have any hot
chocolate unless you can say the magic word,” Ian explained, receiving a nod
from Ally.
 “     You’re in on this shit too?” he asked his niece. Ally grinned, a ring of
sticky marshmallow foam already lining her lips. Mickey grunted in annoyance.
“Fine, fuck it. Give me the hot chocolate,       please      .”
“Nuh-uh. That’s not the magic word!”
Ian laughed at Ally’s enthusiasm. “We can play twenty questions and you can
guess,” Ian supplied. When Mickey frowned, Ian saw Ally kick him under the
table. The little girl may have tried to be discreet but the loud thump, her
uncle’s shocked and pissed off reaction and the shaking of the table were dead
giveaways.
 “    Fine      ,” Mickey bit out. “Fine. I’ll play along... Is it a thing?”
“No,” was Ian’s response. “Hey Ally, can you keep track of your uncle’s
questions?” The little girl nodded energetically, her long black bangs falling
over her eyes. She brushed them aside with the side of her hand and held up her
index finger.
“Is it a place?”
“No,” Ally chimed in, putting up another finger.
“Person?”
Ally made a face but Ian stopped her from giving too much away by answering,
“yes.”
“Is it a girl?” Mickey asked next.
“Sort of.”
“‘Sort of’?” Mickey threw his hands up in the air, exasperated “What the fuck,
Gallagher? Is it a guy too?”
“No,” Ian said, keeping it simple, a smirk growing on his face.
“Is she alive?” Mickey asked with an air of impatience, even though it looked
like he was biting down on a smile.
“No,” he said again.
“So she’s dead?”
 “    Noooo,     ”       came the response from Ally, sounding outraged at the
mere idea.
  Mickey looked at the girl suspiciously, seemingly mulling something over in
his head. “Is it someone from one of your     cartoons    ?” he asked her.
“Yes!” she said with excitement dripping from her voice.
“Is she a princess?”
“No.”
Mickey huffed in annoyance. Ian didn’t know what kind of shows Ally was in to,
but if she was anything like Debbie was back when she was that age, taking
princesses out of the running probably limited Mickey’s options.
“Is she an animal?”
“No, silly!” Ally said, sticking her tongue out a bit and biting the corner
with her tiny, white teeth.
“You already asked if she was a person…” Ian told him.
 “     Yeah, well,       excuse       me if her not being a girl was a little
confusing, asshole. How many questions do I got left?”
Ally held up both of her hands and wiggled all ten fingers.
“Does she have her own movie?”
“Yes,” the girl said, resetting her count from one.
“Does she have superpowers?”
“Yes,” Ian answered this time.
“Can she fly?”
“Yes.” Ally held up her third finger.
“Can she read minds?” Mickey quirked a brow and Ian sighed.
“That would be cool, but sadly, she can’t,” he told the brunette.
“Is she very strong?”
 “     Nope,” Ian said. “You’re up to fifteen already,       Uncle Mickey
.” He couldn’t explain why but he was getting so much satisfaction from
stumping the brunette, not to mention the look Mickey got each time Ian
teasingly called him ‘Uncle Mickey’.
“Yeah, yeah... So she’s not an animal but she can fly…?”
“Uh-huh.”
Mickey fired off the next couple of questions, but Ian shot him down each time.
“Is she a witch?”
“No.”
“A ghost?” He asked after a beat of silence, his eyebrows drawn in thought. Ian
smiled at the expression.
“Nope.”
Ian could tell that Mickey was struggling as he drummed his fingers impatiently
on the table. “Is she from the real world?”
“What does that mean?”
“Like, is she a regular person who has superpowers? Or is she from a fairy tale
universe?”
Ally’s mouth dropped open in shock. It looked like Mickey was finally on the
right track…
“The latter,” Ian told him.
Mickey pulled a face, “What the fuck’s that mean?”
“The latter?”
Mickey nodded.
“It means the second of two.”
“So she’s from a fairy tale world?” Mickey asked dryly and Ian nodded.
“Yeah.”
 “     So why couldn’t you just say that? Gotta break out some fancy vocabulary
shit? Believe me, it’s not impressive.” Mickey brought his hands up to his
face, hiding his mouth behind them. He blew into them to warm them up and Ian
laughed at the look in Mickey’s eyes. He had a feeling Mickey       was       a
little impressed.
“Just an old SAT word that stuck with me, I guess.”
Ian definitely didn’t imagine the small smile tugging at the corner of Mickey’s
mouth then. “Whatever, nerd. Does she have a sidekick?”
 “    No     …”       Ally said with an edge to her voice, her tired eyes lit
up with excitement.
  Mickey eyed her, then asked his last question. “Does that mean     she’s 
the sidekick?”
“Yes…” Ian all but whispered.
It was final guess time. Mickey had one chance to figure it out based on the
information he’d gotten. Ally leaned in closer to her uncle and Ian could see
she was holding her breath, waiting impatiently for Mickey’s last shot.
With a shrug and a wave of his hands, Mickey sighed, “Is it one of those
Powerpuff Girls? Fuck, I don’t even know if they fly or just jump high...”
 “     No!” Ally yelled, tugging at Mickey’s shirt. Ian smiled as Mickey let
himself be pulled like a ragdoll by Ally, who teased him loudly. “You
lost      , Uncle Mickey! You’re a big       loser      !”
Mickey pushed Ally’s face away from his with his hand and stuck his tongue out
at the girl. “Well who the fuck is she then?”
“Tinker Bell!” Ally said, as if Mickey was the stupidest person in the world
for not getting it.
Mickey glared at Ian. “You’re fucking kidding me. The ‘magic word’ is a fuckin’
Disney fairy?”
He and Ally both nodded with devilish grins and Mickey looked precisely one
thousand percent done with the pair of them.
“The Powerpuff Girls aren’t even Disney characters, Mickey. But hey, don’t
worry. You can still have your hot chocolate because you really tried, but I’m
taking the marshmallows.”
With that, Ian tilted the mug towards his mouth and swallowed down what was
left of the marshmallows that had all but dissolved into the hot chocolate. He
passed the contaminated drink to Mickey with a smirk, knowing the brunette
would probably be pissed that Ian had taken the first sip of his now-not-so-hot
chocolate.
“You let her pick the magic word?”
 “     No Uncle Mickey!” Ally said defensively. “      He       picked it!”
  Mickey shook his head, muttering, “    fucking fairy…”
~ ~ ~
 His thighs were cramping, the impossible angle of holding Jonathan up while
pounding into him mercilessly for the last five minutes finally getting to Ian.
Junior ROTC training may have been tough, but it was just a warm-up; this was
Ian’s    real    workout.
Jonathan was quiet while he got fucked, and Ian liked that about him. He also
liked that the guy was eye candy in his army fatigues‒all hard abs, muscles and
the thickest thighs Ian had ever had the pleasure of feeling. Of course, all
that muscle was heavy, and Ian was definitely feeling it now.
Ian was panting, the only noise in the empty locker room coming from the
running water, his low grunts and the thud of Jonathan’s body being pushed
against the tiled wall of the shower over and over and over again.
Water sprayed down onto them, splashing against Ian’s neck and back, washing
away his sweat before it even had a chance to really form. Jonathan had his
eyes closed and his head thrown back, so he gave Ian absolutely no warning that
someone was coming.
“Gallagher! Weisman!”
Ian froze, horrified, and Jonathan whipped his head up, eyes bugging out of his
head. Ian let go of the other boy’s thighs and pulled out, letting Jonathan
fall onto shaky legs.
Ian looked over his shoulder to see Sergeant Reid standing behind them,
eyebrows knit with anger and face twisted with disgust.
Jonathan grabbed his towel from the bar beside them and ran out of the shower
towards the changing area, leaving Ian standing there, naked and alone. Ian
turned the tap off and quickly wrapped his own towel around his waist before
turning around to face the sergeant.
Sergeant Reid studied him for a long while before speaking. Anyone else would
have been scared shitless‒hell, Jonathan had just proved that‒but despite his
fear, Ian stood his ground.
“Son, what on God’s green earth gave you the impression that that kind of
perverted behavior is acceptable here?”
 Ian opened his mouth to protest but the sergeant didn’t even give him an
opportunity to respond. “I don’t give a flying fuck what those politicians in
Washington say‒whatever Don’t Ask Don’t Tell bullshit they want to spew is up
to them‒but the United States Army is no place for God-damned    faggots   .”
He spit on the ground as he spoke the last word.
Ian nervously ran his hands through his hair to remove the excess water, but
instead of calming him down, it had the opposite effect. He felt more exposed
that he had been when Sergeant Reid first caught them, despite the addition of
the towel. His secret was out, and although he wasn’t ashamed of being gay, he
felt guilty about the circumstances.
“Now, I won’t report your sodomy on school grounds to the principal, but I
expect you to get dressed and get the fuck out of here in the next five
minutes,” he said to Ian, voice cold. Ian nodded, too stunned to salute him
properly, and rushed past him towards his locker to grab the rest of his
clothes.
 “    And Gallagher,” Sergeant Reid shouted from behind Ian, “I better not see
you or Weisman back at training tomorrow. I trust you can pass the message
along to your     fairy     friend.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, walking out of the locker room faster than he’d
appeared.
Ian had been all gung-ho about being a Marine for as long as he could remember.
He’d joined Junior ROTC in high school and had studied his ass off in school,
even taking summer classes and getting tutored by Lip, all to get into West
Point Military Academy and become an officer. He was a senior now, and his
dreams seemed so close.
Everything changed after that day.
~ ~ ~
Ally fell asleep in the booth not even ten minutes after eating her pancakes.
Ian had watched her stifled her yawns for as long as she could before her eyes
drooped, heavy and exhausted. The stress of the day must have finally washed
over her and she passed out with her head curled against Mickey's lap. Ian's
heart tripped over itself as Mickey absently stroked his thumb soothingly
against her shoulder. The movement seemed almost awkward, as if it wasn't
something Mickey did regularly, but it seemed to make Ally relax, her body
untensing with the comfort Mickey gave her.
“You’re really good with kids,” Mickey commented, his voice quiet. He glanced
up at Ian and Ian could see the dark circles forming under his eyes.
“Yeah, well, I had a lot of practice with my siblings," he shrugged before
tipping his head in a gesture to Ally. "You say that as if you’re not good with
them...” Mickey laid Ian’s jacket over the little girl like a blanket and
Mickey watched her for a moment before rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip.
“Mandy worked nights, so I watched her a lot. I kinda just learned as things
came along.” Mickey's mouth twitched like he was unsure of his words, as if he
didn't really believe them.
Ian thought about Fiona and how she had raised them‒the childhood and teenage
years she had missed out on by choosing to provide for them instead. He thought
about her not believing in the good things she had done for them and the
thought of Mickey feeling like that settled uncomfortably in Ian's stomach.
“It’s not just that," he said, "I’ve seen the way she looks at you, like you’re
the world to her.”
A beat of silence passed between them, Mickey's eyes on Ian like he was the
strangest thing he had ever seen. “Thanks.”
Ian rubbed at his face with his palm before sniffing and looking back down at
Ally for a moment. “Why did she make that face when I mentioned Lip?”
Mickey paused, his eyebrows doing a complicated dance on his face. His lips
parted as if he was about to answer, but nothing came out.
“Mickey?” Ian pressed.
The older man sighed, “You said he knew her uncles…”
“Yeah?" Ian frowned. "So?”
“Iggy died a year and a half ago. They were close too.” Mickey said the words
casually, with a flippant gesture but Ian could see the tension in his
shoulders, the pain in his eyes that he tried to mask. Ian's stomach sank,
memories of Monica playing like a film in his brain, memories far too vivid.
All he wanted to do was run his palm over the knot in Mickey's shoulders until
it went away.
“Oh," is what he said instead, clearing his throat. "I’m sorry. That must have
been rough. Poor kid…”
The atmosphere soured then, as Mickey fell quiet. Sadness and worry and anguish
passed over his face.  It was a look Ian recognized. He kept his eyes trained
on the table and pushed what was left of his pancakes around on his plate.
“Hey,” Ian started. “Can we…”
“What?” Mickey wondered, looking up from the syrupy mess he’d created after Ian
fell silent.
“Can we just talk for real, like, honestly? No games, no bullshit, just real
conversation?”
Mickey chewed on his bottom lip, thinking over Ian’s request. Almost a full
minute passed, but it felt like twenty. Ian couldn’t take that look anymore. He
reached forward and pulled the offending lip out from between Mickey’s teeth,
his voice low and more confident than he actually felt.
“Seriously, don’t make me into a liar. I know I said I was kidding about
fucking you on the table in front of everyone but If you’re gonna keep doing
that with your lip, I really might.”
It got the intended reaction this time. Mickey chuckled, a blush forming across
his cheeks as he tilted his head to the side. Ian felt his insides get all warm
and fuzzy at seeing that rare, genuine smile again.
“So, honesty?”
“Fine,” Mickey breathed. His face clouded over with a conflicted look, as if he
wasn't used to people being so upfront with him. He collected his thoughts,
scratching idly at the side of his mouth. “But this isn’t gonna be a one-sided
thing. If you get to ask me personal questions, I get to ask you some too.”
Ian nodded, fighting hard to keep the grin off of his face. “That sounds fair
to me. Mind if I start?”
“Go ahead.” Mickey conceded, gesturing to Ian with his hand.
“So… you’re not out?” Ian asked, finger tracing the outline of his long empty
mug.
Mickey shook his head, a quick movement.
When Ian realized he wasn’t going to elaborate, he pressed further. “So no one
knows you’re gay? I mean, besides the people you’ve been with, obviously?”
“I fucked some guys in Juvie" Mickey admitted, huffing out a breath through his
nose, "but that’s normal there‒nobody thinks you’re actually a faggot just
‘cause you bang a dude or two on the inside.”
Ian nodded, staring down at the table. He felt suddenly nervous as he asked,
“So you haven’t had a boyfriend or been with anyone else since Juvie?”
Mickey shrugged and looked down at his plate again, almost like a safety zone
or something, but he surprised Ian by actually answering. “Look. There’s not a
lot to say." He drummed his fingers against the table and Ian would have sworn
he looked nervous. "My dad found some of my porn a few years back, before Ally
even turned one." There was a jump in his jaw as he clenched his teeth together
and Ian fought the urge to kiss it away. "He beat the crap outta me‒said no son
of his was gonna be a fuckin’ AIDS monkey. I probably would have died if he
hadn’t wanted another drink so badly that he left me bleeding on the floor to
go to the Alibi Room." He scoffed and shook his head and Ian tried to imagine
it. He tried to imagine Frank beating him within an inch of his life and hating
him for who he was. Ian had received hate from strangers, had even been spat at
once, but he had always been safe with his family. Sadness welled in his chest
as Mickey continued with a shrug, "So after that, I left. Not much time to
“date” or any other faggoty shit like that. Stayed with my friend Matt for a
few years ‘til my dad wasn’t around anymore.”
 “     Your dad‒      Terry Milkovich     ‒      knows you’re gay,"  Ian
started, forcing a wry smile on to his face.  "You’re still alive after that,
but you’re still worried about your niece knowing you’re gay?”
Mickey's features darkened, his mouth tightening and he kept his eyes low,
“Maybe I don’t want her to think her uncle’s a disgusting pervert…”
“Being gay doesn’t make you a pervert,” Ian said, trying not to be offended. He
understood Mickey's words to an extent. He'd grown up in the South Side too. He
had been told that being gay was wrong and against nature and he'd heard all
the same jokes that Mickey had.
“Whatever, man." Mickey cleared his throat, his face closed off. Ian sucked in
a breath and leant back against the booth. "This feels like a fucking
interrogation. When do I get to ask some questions?”
“I’m an open book," Ian shrugged. "Ask me anything you wanna know.”
“Okay." Mickey frowned and Ian was starting to realise that it was his default
expression, rather than a physical trait of his mood. "Are you out?”
Ian didn't even have to think about his answer, he had repeated it several
times to several people over the years. “I’ve told the people who matter. Most
of my friends and family know‒people I can trust. I’ve been careful... I’m sure
you understand why.” He saw Mickey nod, then continued. “I guess it was a big
deal when I was younger, but now that more people know, it’s not as major. I
told Anthony‒my partner,” he clarified.
Mickey scowled, but his next question changed the topic.
“Have you had any serious relationships?”
Ian scratched at the back of his head, mouth twisted in thought. “Well, I
thought they were serious at the time, but looking back, maybe not so much?" A
memory of Kash filled his mind and even after all these years he still felt a
dull ache in his chest‒not for Kash, not for what had gone on between them, but
for the young boy he once was who had thought so highly of Kash and thought
that a lifetime tucked away in the back of the store was possible. "Not
counting when I was a teenager, I dated this one guy for a couple of months but
it didn’t really go that well. You?”
Mickey looked liked he wanted to ask, but instead he just shrugged again, “Just
Matt, I guess.”
“Matt? The one you stayed with?” Mickey nodded again. “He was your boyfriend?”
“Nah, it wasn’t really like that. He just…" Mickey's eyes danced around, not
really looking at anything, as he tried to find the words. Ian had a feeling he
wasn't used to using them often. "We both needed something, and it was easy at
the time. But he wanted more and I didn’t, so… whatever.” Mickey shrugged.
“We’re cool now. His uncle owns the garage I work at. What else ya got?”
“So your first time was in Juvie?”
A small smirk appeared on Mickey's face. “Yeah.”
Ian's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he tapped his fingers along the back
of his neck. “Don’t laugh at me, okay?”
“No promises, Firecrotch.” Mickey leaned back against the booth, the smirk
growing into a smile on his face as his foot brushed against Ian's under the
table. Ian didn't move away.
“Firecrotch?” he asked, kinking his eyebrow.
“What, am I wrong?” Mickey raised his eyebrow right back and stared pointedly
at the table in the direction of Ian’s pelvic region.
Ian felt his cheeks flush red. “Well… erm, no. You’re not wrong…”
“Didn't think so, Firecrotch.”
“Hah!" Ian snorted, Mickey's foot curling around his ankle. "You’re really
gonna call me that?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about the suggestive nickname,
but he couldn't deny the flicker of arousal that sparked in him at the sound of
it coming from Mickey's mouth.
“Maybe not in front of people,” Mickey conceded. “Anyway, what am I not
supposed to laugh at you for?”
“Oh" Ian spluttered, "Um, hooking up with guys in Juvie. How did that work?”
“What d’ya mean?”
He screwed his face up, unsure as to why he suddenly felt shy. “Like, how did
you get lube and condoms and stuff?”
Mickey barked out a laugh. “I spit in my fuckin hand and rubbed it on my cock
before stickin’ it into their asses. How do you think it worked?”
“Oh,” he blinked. His assumptions had been way off. He thought about what it
would have been like to be in Juvie, knowing that he and Lip had had quite a
few close calls with the law and could have easily ended up there too. He
probably would have become someone’s bitch. A thought suddenly occurred to him
and he spat it out louder than he intended. “So you haven’t bottomed?”
Mickey’s eyes widened as he quickly flicked his eyes around the room. He stared
at Ian for a long moment before shaking his head, eyes still trained on the
redhead.
Ian hesitated before asking his next question. He was almost embarrassed to ask
it outright, and if he’d been talking to anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have
had the balls to say it yet. “Are… are you willing to try?”
It took Mickey a while to answer, but he eventually did. “I'm not some
bitch...” he clarified before nodding his head. "Fuck it, yeah." He shook his
head with a long sigh, as if tearing his mind away from whatever thought it was
stuck on. “God, I can’t believe we’re talking about this. Why am I telling you
all this shit?”
Mickey rubbed a hand along his neck and Ian smiled at him. “You're not like..
other guys. You grew up like me, I guess that's... I don't know." He stuttered
for a moment before just sighing, "I don't feel like I have to lie about shit,
who I am, where I'm from. I can trust you with that. That's not crazy is it?"
“Nah…" Mickey shook his head and Ian looked at him through his lashes. "It’s
weird, but I don't know‒not in a bad way.”
Ian laughed then, a nervous short bark. “Maybe we’re soul mates or something,”
he joked.
“Yeah, and maybe I’m the next fuckin’ President.” Mickey scoffed, chucking a
rolled up napkin at him. "Fuckin' soulmates. Don't believe in that shit..."
They both laughed, nerves and tension from the night fully slipping away from
them, all intentions made clear, all cards on the table. It was oddly freeing.
“Hey, you never know. Obama was from Illinois too…” Ian mused.
“Obama didn’t spend half a year fucking dudes in Juvie…” Mickey replied, eyes
crinkling at the corners as he bit down on his bottom lip, eyes studying Ian
with a confidence Ian had not seen until now.
He liked it.
~ ~ ~
Ian was lying in his bed in the middle of the afternoon, back to the door,
crying as quietly as he could. The tears mixed with snot as they rolled down
his face. He was a disgusting mess, but couldn’t be bothered to care.
Okay, so maybe he’d known something was off for the last couple of weeks. He’d
felt the change in their relationship after Linda had finally given them the
green light to continue things. He’d felt the resentment from Kash at being
blackmailed into knocking up his wife again. He’d known Kash felt that
something was off too, but that didn’t make the pain of being dumped hurt any
less. Ian was still crushed when Kash broke up with him. He was devastated and
angry and hurt and sorry all at the same time.
He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to sleep and maybe escape the sadness
for just a few minutes. It was a stupid attempt. He inhaled sharply, sniffling
like someone with a cold, as he tried to breathe past the mucus blocking his
nose as a result of his quiet sobs.
He obviously wasn’t quiet enough, because someone pushed his bedroom door open
and stumbled in. Ian reluctantly turned around to note that it was Frank.
Ian didn’t even want to know what his dad was doing in their house, especially
now that he was living at Sheila Jackson’s place. He was probably home looking
for money to buy more booze, Ian thought.
Ian didn’t have a good relationship with his Frank. Hell, the guy wasn’t even
his biological father. Fiona had once told him that it was probably due to the
fact that Ian reminded Frank so much of Monica. Nevertheless, they’d never
gotten along. Frank was an abusive shithead who only managed to make Ian’s life
more difficult.
But Frank did something shocking then: he sat on the floor beside Ian’s bed and
offered his son a sip of the whiskey bottle he pulled out of his fucking boot.
Ian eyed him but took a swig of the golden liquor, relishing the burn as he
swallowed it.
The pain felt good‒a distraction from the hole he felt in the pit of his
stomach whenever he thought about Kash. Ian took another swig.
Thinking back, Ian didn’t know why he asked, but he did.
“How do you know when you’ve met your soulmate?”
Frank let out a long breath. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on your mother that
she was the one,” he said solemnly. “When you know, you know. Know what I
mean?”
Ian frowned. He didn’t know... Not yet.
“In the mean time,” Frank continued, “I suggest you find someone who wants to
fuck, preferably for free.” He patted Ian on the shoulder, returned the bottle
to his shoe and stumbled from off the bedroom in a zig-zag, thankfully not
breaking anything on his way out.
~ ~ ~
Before either of them knew it, morning came. They’d spent almost three hours at
the diner, talking about their respective lives. As the diner filled with more
and more customers and the looks the waitress gave them for not leaving yet got
more and more pointed, they decided it was probably time to head back to the
hospital.
Mickey didn’t want to wake her up, so he carried Ally in his arms as he and Ian
walked carefully through the fresh, two-inch layer of snow that blanketed the
streets. It was still early, and the footprints were few and far between. They
eventually made their way through the hospital and back to Mandy’s room.
There was no change in her condition. The machines were all doing their job:
the ventilator pumping air into her lungs regularly, the monitor showing her
blood pressure and beeping along with her heart, and countless other wires and
IVs hooked up to her pale body.
Mickey laid Ally down on the recliner as gently as possible, then took Ian’s
jacket off of her and replaced it with one of the blankets a nurse had brought
by earlier. Mickey passed the jacket back to him and Ian saw his eyes flick
nervously to the door.
“Thanks for breakfast,” he muttered.
“You kidding? It was my pleasure.”
“You really should’a let me pay for us,” Mickey said, gesturing at him and
Ally.
“I know it might be a new concept to you, but that’s how dates work, Mickey.”
He flashed Mickey a grin and he could see the brunette’s cheeks redden again.
“Well, I’m paying next time.”
  Ian felt something catch in his throat and coughed to clear it. “    Next
time?”
Mickey shrugged, then smiled coyly at Ian. “Well, yeah…”
Ian studied Mickey’s face, searching for something‒he wasn’t sure what‒but he
knew it when he saw it. It was a spark, a little flicker of light in darkness,
that Ian had seen a few times already in the last couple of hours: first when
he’d asked Mickey out, again when they’d been playing twenty questions with
Ally, and finally when they’d talked about their respective jobs.
He didn’t want to leave, but the silence was making him nervous and he didn’t
know what to do next. He tightened his grip on his jacket, glad for something
to pass his nervous energy through.
“So, uh, you wanna play some cards or something?” Mickey asked.
Ian sighed with relief. “Yeah, definitely.”
They played round after round of poker, switching over to Go Fish once Ally
woke up. Mickey didn’t ask Ian to leave, so he stayed.
Dr. Chopra came in later that morning to give Mickey an update on Mandy’s
condition. Mickey shot up out of his chair, eager to hear the doctor’s words.
Mandy hadn’t changed. She hadn’t gotten any worse, but she hadn’t gotten any
better either. Ian watched Mickey as the doctor spoke to him. He saw Mickey
look from Ally to his sister and back. He saw the brunette signal for the
little girl to come closer, and he watched as Mickey put a protective arm over
her shoulder.
When the doctor told them that Mandy could stay in a coma indefinitely if there
was too much brain damage, he heard the small sob escape from Ally and he saw
Mickey tense and tighten his hold on her.
Ian didn’t even think about what he did next. All he knew was that Mickey was
hurting and he needed support, and Ian was there. He needed to show Mickey that
he was there for him‒that he wasn’t alone. He stepped closer towards the two
black-haired Milkoviches and slowly reached for Mickey’s free hand, half
expecting the older man to shake him off...
...but he didn’t. Instead, Mickey passed his fingers through the slots of Ian’s
hand and held on.
In that moment, Ian knew he would stay with them for as long as they let him.
 
Chapter End Notes
     (Only the epilogue left.)
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Epilogue
Mickey woke up to the sound of something falling through the letterbox. He
grunted at the noise, blinking away the sleep in his eyes and forcing them open
despite the sunlight peeking through the window, threatening to blind him.
Moving to sit up, he felt a weight pressed into his side; something heavy and
solid and radiating heat. Ian, he realised as he sat up. The redhead was only
wearing a pair of striped blue boxers, his long, pale legs sticking out from
under the blanket.
Shoving off their blanket, Mickey sat up and tossed his legs over the side of
the bed. He stretched his arms above his head, cracking his shoulders and then
his neck before getting up. He scratched at his face, making a mental note to
shave later. Mickey looked down at the man sleeping there with a soft smile on
his freckled face before he slid his feet into his slippers and dragged himself
out of the room.
He made his way to the front door, passing the living room on the way there. He
paused at the sight of Ally on the couch, wrapped up in an old t-shirt of his,
cuddling her teddy bear and staring blankly at the screen. "Ay Ally, you wanna
go make some breakfast?"
After picking up the mail and sorting through it, Mickey realised that Ally
still hadn't responded. He walked over to the back of the couch and playfully
slapped the letters against the top of her head and tried again. "Yo, you want
breakfast?"
Ally turned her head and looked up at him and his breath caught in his throat.
She looked so much like his little sister‒so much like Mandy‒but she had such
sadness etched deep into her features. He had forgotten... How the fuck had he
forgotten? He tried to speak again but no words managed to come out past the
lump in his throat, so instead he just ruffled her hair as casually as he could
and made his way into the kitchen.
"I'll make eggs," he managed, his voice coming out wrecked and strained. He
opened the fridge while his heart hammered away in his chest, pounding an
unsteady rhythm as his mind filled with images of his sister in the hospital
bed barely two months ago. She had looked so small and so fragile and thin, and
Mickey's heart broke again at the memory. He had never seen her like that. He
had never seen Mandy look so helpless‒not when she was four and the only girl
in a houseful of boys, not when she was fifteen and pregnant, not even when
Spencer had first left and she’d started with the heavy drugs.
"Not hungry," came Ally's tired sounding voice from the living room. He looked
back at her but her eyes were still glued to the TV, expressionless as Tom
chased Jerry around in dizzying circles.
"Yeah. Me neither," Mickey muttered, closing the fridge door shut with a sigh.
They were at a standstill. Ally blamed him for making the choice to pull the
plug on Mandy after three weeks of her condition steadily declining, but there
was only so much reasoning you could do with a six-year-old. No matter how many
times he or Ian had tried to explain Mandy’s condition to her, and to tell her
that what they were doing‒keeping her alive on machines instead of letting her
go‒was cruel, Ally was still a little girl who didn’t want her mommy to die.
Mickey’s heart was still heavy with guilt. He knew Ally would stop hating him
eventually; but he also knew it would take more than a month for her to get
there. Much, much more.
He turned back around to the kitchen counter and busied himself with looking
through the mail.
"Bills, bills, bills, junk, bills, junk, junk..." he listed off, dropping the
letters back onto the table. The last envelope was big and thick, brown with a
fancy looking stamp printed in the top corner. It was addressed to him‒Michael
Milkovich. He glanced up at Ally before grabbing a knife from the stand and
slicing the top of the envelope open.
His eyes flicked over the pages, confused, too stressed and exhausted and just
too fucked to focus. Flipping back to the front page, his eyes scanned over
everything until he found a number.
Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jacket from the back of the chair,
Mickey dialed the number.
~ ~ ~
"A will? She left a fucking will?" Mickey ran a hand over his face, too damn
tired for this shit.
"It's mostly just paperwork, Mr. Milkovich. Important documents she thought you
might need, her written consent for you to have custody of her daughter,
Allison Milkovich, the deed to the house,” he paused, motioning to the pile of
papers on his desk, “and a letter addressed to you."
The guy across from him was dressed more casually than Mickey would have
thought. He was wearing creased beige slacks and an untucked white shirt with
what looked like a jam stain down the front. His hair stuck up in tufts around
his head and Mickey's lip curled at the thought of him handling everything his
sister owned.
He knew those print-your-forms-online-and-we-legalize-them lawyers were a rip-
off and he hoped Mandy hadn’t wasted too much money on thisloser.
"What's the letter?" Mickey asked with a sniff, holding out his hand
expectantly. The guy rummaged through the pile of papers before handing Mickey
a tightly sealed envelope.
Mickey opened the letter with a hand that was a lot steadier than he felt. He
let out a huff as he opened the folded piece of paper and began to read.
This had to be a joke. A sick, twisted joke. Mandy was high on something when
she wrote the letter. She had to be.
Except her handwriting was steady, a few words near the bottom smeared after
some form of liquid dropped onto them.
Something sharp and painful twisted in Mickey's gut and things seemed to click
into place, even after all these years: Mandy's tears in the beginning... her
defensiveness over Ally's father... her desperate need for Mickey to be in the
house as often as possible... the way she would crawl into his bed at night and
try and make herself as small as possible...
Sudden comprehension hit Mickey and he felt bile rise in his throat. He made a
dash for the exit, the letter still gripped tightly in his hand, and he spent
the next ten minutes dry heaving in the alley round the back of the office.
Terry.
Terry was Ally's father.
~ ~ ~
Mickey called Ian to come and get him after he’d composed himself. They didn’t
keep secrets‒not even ones like this‒so Mickey told him everything, thankful
for the comfort the redhead provided him with.
In her letter, Mandy had written that she could feel herself losing control. In
a moment of clarity, she could feel things getting out of hand, and she wanted
to make sure Ally was taken care of, in case anything happened to her. Mickey
felt a chill come over his body as he thought about her words.
He and Ian took the train to the House Rabbit Society of Chicago, just like
Mandy had instructed, and picked out the “softest, most cuddly fucking bunny”
they could find for Ally.
“Allison’s a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl,” Mandy wrote. “She’s the one
good‒no,wonderful‒thing that came from something so fucked up, and I have no
regrets.”
Chapter End Notes
     thank you everyone who read this. we hope you enjoyed it! sorry for
     the tears.
End Notes
     Give yourself a pat on the back if you finished reading this chapter!
     We know it's super-long. Ally's chapter will be half of this, so
     don't worry.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!