Chapter Text
Mandy wasn't here to stay long.
Her dark brown hair was pulled up in a short ponytail, reaching her shoulders only barely. Face devoid of too much makeup, she hoped her cheeks weren't too red from the chillness of the Chicago winter. Even if it was almost nearing March, the temperatures were sometimes below freezing and Mandy didn't know if she could handle the cold, being away in hot, sweaty California for so long.
She was stuck in the escorting business for a while, making money the only way she knew how -- by using her face and body as something to parade around. She wasn't proud of it, not even a little, but money was money and she had a plan. It was simple, really -- earn enough cash to buy a plane ticket to a place far, far away, find a place to stay once the destination was reached, and then work her way up to an average life with an average job and an average, hopefully non-abusive, household.
She knew it was a far-fetched plan, but somehow, she succeeded in making it a reality. It was anything but easy, and it involved so much sweat and so many tears that she thought she'd never be able to escape. But she did.
It took a couple of months of desperate saving and couch-jumping to earn about sixteen-hundred bucks for a ticket to Sacramento, and a place to rent for a little while. She struggled when she got there, not only because of the cut ties with every single person she knew back in Chicago but also because of the living expenses the richer side of the USA brought. It took Mandy a couple of months to even begin to consider she was making a smart choice moving. It was only when she got a full-time, paying job that made it easier to pay rent and buy food, did she finally feel like settling down.
And she did settle down, eventually.
She was working as a manager at a popular restaurant in Sacramento, and the pay was enough to cover all her bills and rent in the comfortable studio apartment she had been living in these past few years, and, for the first time in her life, she didn't worry whether or not she'd have enough for food or other utilities, which she was so, unbelievably grateful for.
Mandy had even met a nice guy who treated her right, but the Southside way was hard to ditch, and she still found some thrill in fucking bad guys who could only bring her trouble, which she managed to avoid fairly well.
But now she was here, back in the Southside.
Ian Gallagher was the last person from this side of town she ever spoke to since her departure, and she couldn't say she didn't miss her family, as fucked up as it was. She hadn't contacted a single soul from Chicago in five years and she never planned on it, until a few days ago, when the unwanted nostalgia hit her hard. Mandy had no idea what happened to her brothers, to Terry, to Mickey who she last remembered was in prison for attempted murder (and probably still was). She also wondered what Ian was up to, where his life had taken him. Was he still dating that fireman? Was he an EMT like he said he wanted to be? Was he still as sad as he was that last time?
She briefly let Lip cross her mind but she pushed the thought of the lost love away. There were no hard feelings on her side, but she didn't feel like reminiscing.
Mandy wrapped the jacket tighter around her body as she walked to her childhood home, scared out of her mind. It was only a corner away, and she could just imagine walking in and seeing her brothers' eyes widening, asking her where she'd been. She could imagine Terry grunting to make him a sandwich as if she was never gone, but she had a feeling he was locked away. Truthfully, she had no idea what was going on in the Milkovich house - she had no idea what was going on here at all, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious to find out.
The first step to finding out, though, was seeing the large red "EVICTED" sign on the door of the Milkovich residence. The gray house was empty and noiseless, which was uncanny. Mandy guessed they hadn't been evicted long, considering how dirtless and uncrumpled the paper was. She turned around to look around the street and she noticed a man watching her. She barely recognized him as her old neighbor.
"Mandy Milkovich?" The older man inquired. Mandy grimaced. She never forgot where she came from, but her name lost meaning in California. It was so easy to forget her lineage when nobody knew about it. Back home, she was Mandy Milkovich, a respected manager, always well-kept and nice, always ready to help and be of service. Back home, she was an enigma, but not a bad one -- an enigma people wanted to solve, but couldn't, and she relished in the feeling of creating a name for herself. Not somebody else's, not a name she had been born with, but a name that truly, only belonged to her.
Here, that privilege dissipated. Here she was Mandy Milkovich, scum. The dirt beneath your shoe.
She didn't confirm or deny the man's question, but rather asked, "Where are they now?" She nodded at the vacated premises.
"Moved next door to the Gallaghers. Milkovich's really like pissin' 'em off." He chuckled, and walked away, leaving her to wrap her head around the newly-found information. Her family moved next door to the Gallaghers? Just to piss them off? Milkovich's usually didn't even give two shits about one of their own, let alone cared enough to go out of their way to piss someone off. What had happened here?
She turned around slowly and started walking towards the familiar house. She was somewhat of a resident there back then. She shook the memory away. As she rounded the corners, she observed her old neighborhood -- it was different, a little more...normal? She guessed it somewhat reminded her of an extremely shitty version of a mediocre part of Sacramento. It was still better than what it had been.
She passed a house that had "GO HOME GENTRIFIER" written in huge red letters on its side. It was a nice house and she realized that gentrification might be a good thing for her, but definitely not for your run-of-the-mill Southsiders. Mandy chuckled to herself but quickly sobered up when she neared the Gallagher house.
She first noticed how familiar it looked, the steps, the porch, the unkempt backyard. Then she noticed the mess that was in the house next to them. Junk littered the front of the garden -- if it could be called one -- Nazi signs painted all across the place, the confederation flag she knew all too well lying discarded on the now-dirty, grass.
The contrast between the homes was drastic. But then again, it had always been, in every possible way.
She walked past the Gallagher home, making sure to remember to check up on her good friend when she was done with her forthcoming trauma. Mandy walked up the stairs and knocked, carefully.
The door swung open after a few moments Mandy spent not breathing. On the doorstep stood Zofia, a cousin Mandy had long ago forgotten about. Her eyes widened at the sight of Mandy. "Holy shit."
"Hey, Zofia." Mandy smiled back. She allowed herself to be patted on the back by the skinny girl, and she made sure not to cringe at the smell of cigarettes and alcohol coming from inside the house, and radiating off the Milkovich.
"The fuck you doin' here?" There was no malice in Zofia's voice, mostly just curiosity.
"Came to visit," Mandy replied simply, voice scratchy from the cold, yet still soft.
"You heard about Uncle Terry then, I'm guessing. The old bastard's sleepin' right now. Should wake up soon though, once his drugs wear off."
Mandy stood frozen at the door, jaw slack. "What happened to Terry?"
Zofia looked her cousin up and down before explaining simply. "Got shot. He's paralyzed from the neck down."
"Who shot him?"
She shrugged, "Don't know."
"When?"
"A couple of weeks ago. Wanna come in and see? He looks pretty fuckin' helpless."
Mandy recoiled, changing the subject. Terry wasn't in her plan today. No and no. Not yet. "Um, are my brothers here somewhere?"
Zofia shrugged again. "Not now. They'll be here later, though."
Mandy, still shocked from the revelation, just nodded. "Okay. Um, don't tell anyone I was here, I'll probably come back again."
The girl nodded. "'Kay." And then she closed the door in Mandy's face.
Mandy's body was hit by a pang of mixed guilt and relief. Terry was paralyzed. He couldn't do anything to her. He was helpless. She looked back at the house once more before deciding she couldn't face anyone quite yet. Mandy needed a drink, but the Alibi was out of the question -- she couldn't be recognized, not when she needed some time just to breathe.
So, she headed back to her hotel, making a promise to herself to come back to the Gallagher house tonight. She owed it to a certain redhead she dearly loved, even after all this time.
There was a possibility Ian Gallagher didn't even live here anymore, but Mandy knew she'd get the answer of his whereabouts as soon as she knocked on the door she was currently standing in front of.
Her palms were sweaty, but it wasn't because she was particularly nervous -- she didn't really have anything to be nervous about. Ian was a man like no other, probably the best one she's ever known, still to this day, even if she lives in a well-respected area with supposedly many well-mannered men. It was a sad realization that it didn't matter where you were -- men were always shitty.
Mandy raised her hand and she felt butterflies in her tummy as she knocked. Truth was, back when she was still a teenager, she had a massive crush on Ian, even when she found out he was gay. It was mostly why she suggested acting as his beard -- her goal was to try and spend more time with him, kissing him when she could, hoping he'd change his mind. It was only later that she realized how stupid she was, and how good of a friend Ian was. He was there with her through thick and thin.
That one summer changed them. Ian fell in love with Mickey, Mandy fell in love with Lip. She supposed both of their brothers led them to their destruction. But, she hoped that, just like she was happy now, so was Ian.
The door swung open, revealing a grown-up Carl Gallagher. The last time she'd seen him, he was a young boy just hitting puberty. Here he was now, standing in front of her, tall and lean, his face boyish yet mature. His voice didn't crack like the last time she heard it when he muttered, surprised, "Holy shit, Mandy."
"Hey," She smiled, slightly surprised he recognized her, "Ian here?"
Carl shouted from where he was standing, "Ian!"
Mandy cringed at the noise, but it didn't stop Carl from repeating the action. "Ian! Get down here! There's someone at the door for ya'!" He turned back to her. "Come in."
The house looked pretty much the same as it always did -- from what she remembered, it was just as it was six years ago. The couch was different, she noted. A dark-skinned boy, about twelve was sitting on it, alongside a little redheaded girl.
Liam and Debbie's kid, Mandy guessed. Neither recognized her, which she wasn't surprised by.
Heavy footsteps sounded through the house as somebody walked down the stairs. Mandy took a deep breath as her favorite ginger appeared before her. Carl moved to the kitchen, nudging the kids to do so as well. They followed without question.
Ian was different. Completely and utterly different, and yet completely and utterly the same. His hair was short and curly, a different shade of orange than the fiery red he had the last time she'd seen him. He was taller than she remembered and definitely filled with much more muscle, his face chubbier but still adorably handsome.
He paused when he saw her. Ian's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he stared at Mandy, assessing her, maybe making sure she was real. And then, his face broke out into a smile, and he wrapped his long arms around her as if she's never left and she hugged him back with as much ferocity, tears pooling in her eyes, not being able to stop them from dropping.
"Oh my God." He whispered against her hair, still holding her tight. "You're here. It's you. It's really you."
She smiled, pulling away slightly to look at him, "It's really me."
Mandy hadn't felt this happy in a long time. Just seeing Ian was like drinking a gallon of water after days in the scorching desert. It breathed back life into her.
"Mandy." He stated, cupping her face, looking her up and down. "You look amazing. What - How? Wait, what are you doing here? Where have you been all this time?" His confused, freckled face made her laugh.
"Calm down, I'm here to catch up, aren't I?"
"Yeah, no, yeah."
She chuckled again, "So, what's up? How you've been? Any lucky men lurking around?"
It was at that moment his eyes widened, "You have any idea what went on here these past years?"
She shook her head, smile slightly dropping. "I literally just found out Terry was shot this afternoon."
Ian's eyes widened even more, and he bit his lip as he slowly asked, "You know where Mickey is?"
Mandy felt sad all of a sudden -- was Ian still not over her brother? Was Mickey out of jail and gone, somewhere out there in the world, like she was? But Ian didn't look sad, or like he was longing for Mickey. It was as if he wanted to know if she knew something he did.
"No..." She replied warily.
His face suddenly lit up in a smile. "You wanna know?"
Her heart pounded in her chest. Mandy and Mickey never had a regular brother-sister relationship, and they sure as hell would never call what they did have love. But fuck, she cared about her brother. She cared a lot when he went to jail, sentenced to eight years. She cared a lot that he was heartbroken over Ian the last time she talked to him through the tainted, dirty glass, a few weeks before she left. She cared she had no idea where he was. And she cared to know why Ian was smiling like that.
"What are you talking about, Ian?"
Then just like Carl, he shouted a name up the stairs. This time, Mandy didn't cringe.
"Mickey!"
Their gazes locked and Ian nodded at Mandy's unasked question. Mickey was here, in this house, right now.
They only had to wait a few moments. Mickey always came when Ian called. "The fuck you want, Gallagher?"
The familiar voice made her chest tighten. Her eyes were met with a pair of blue ones and she let out an exhale as Mickey froze halfway down to the living room.
"No fucking way." She said, breathlessly.
"Right back at ya'." He said cautiously, continuing his way down.
"Who would've known the infamous Mickey and Mandy Milkovich would be here, in the Gallagher house, right now, after all these years." Her mind was reeling.
Mickey smiled at her knowingly, "Guess we both have a certain redhead to thank for that."
Mickey and Mandy hated physical contact, always had, but there were exceptions to their "no-touch" rule, which why they found themselves wrapped up in each other's arms after all these years of being apart, of being god-knows-where, completely unbeknownst to one another.
"How are you not in jail?" She asked quite bluntly -- not that she particularly cared, they were used to rashness.
Mickey smirked at her. "I escaped, went to Mexico, rolled on a cartel, ended back in jail, but then I got out on probation. How are you here?"
Mandy stared at her brother in shock. He looked so different. Not just physically, but also... he seemed happier. She ignored his question and turned to Ian. "So you guys are together, even after all this time?"
Ian and Mickey shared a knowing look before Ian raised his hand. "Been married for over a year, actually."
She looked down at Mickey's tattooed knuckles, and there it was, the ring, proudly shining in the light. Mandy just simply stared. "No fucking way."
Mickey just shrugged, "Guess we got some catching up to do, sis."
She smiled widely. Yes, they did.