Work Text:
Mickey Milkovich has exactly ten contacts on his phone.
Five Gallaghers, three Milkoviches, one Ball, and a number Lip programmed into his phone months ago (a number that belongs to a doctor on the North Side, a number that Mickey has been to afraid to call for months. It’s too late now anyway.)
He’s frantically exhausted Ian’s number phone number and it’s time to bite the bullet and call in reinforcements.
The “Hey, Mickey” and “Shut the fuck up!” that Fiona greets him with are oddly familiar and when Mickey hangs up, a small part of him can’t help but feel like he called the wrong sister.
His thumb hovers over Mandy’s name in his phonebook for a few seconds before he ultimately clicks on Ian’s name once again.
“Ian, please call me the fuck back.”
Mickey breaks down and calls Mandy between the 30th and 31st unanswered phone call to Ian.
(It’s actually the 85th and 86th phone call, but Mickey had stopped counting after the third.)
He calls her after the screaming in Russian from Svetlana, the bitching about the car and deals gone bad from Iggy, and the exchanging of worried looks between Lip and Fiona all come to an end.
Mickey hasn’t talked to his sister since she skipped town with Lip’s sweat still drying all over her, shame practically written on her face, and Kenyatta’s grip wrapped tightly around her forearm all those weeks ago.
Other than a pocket dial that included her muffled talking and laughing with someone else (if Mickey had listened to the voicemail twelve times before he ultimately deleted it, that’s nobody’s fucking business), it would almost be as though Mandy had never existed.
(Which is not true and never will be.)
The call goes to voicemail and Mickey about loses it. He’s heard way too many voicemail recordings today to last for a lifetime and he is fucking over it.
He hangs up before the automated bitch can start her spiel about “leaving messages” and “beeps” and contemplates throwing his phone against the wall. He is just about to aim his phone at the ugly painting Iggy had insisted on keeping after one of their moving scams a few weeks prior, when it rings.
Mickey lowers his arm but doesn’t look at the screen, almost too afraid to know who’s on the other line.
It could be Fiona calling for another checkup. It could be Lip with a snide comment. It could be a fucking hospital saying something terrible had happened. It could be the cops that Svetlana had been threatening to call all morning. It could be Ian himself.
What a funny concept.
It takes until the third ring of his phone for Mickey to snap out of his trance and scramble to answer his phone without looking at the caller ID.
Though the voice on the other side of the phone is not the one Mickey desperately wants to hear at this moment, it’s a voice he’s needed to hear for weeks.
“Mick? Hey!”
Only two people in his life call him Mick and this voice definitely does not belong to Ian.
“Mandy?”
“Yeah, assface. I’m sorry I missed your call. I was in the shower.”
Even though Mickey had called earlier with the intent to have a conversation with his sister, it is still a shock to hear her voice.
Mandy must catch on to Mickey’s struggle because the slight playful tone leaves her voice and she rushes out the next sentence. “Mickey? What’s wrong? Is it Ian?”
Ian.
Yes, it’s Ian. It’s always Ian. Ian stole a bunch of suitcases, Ian made a porn, Ian cheated, Ian ran away, Ian is sick, Ian doesn’t think so.
Mickey has no idea where to begin, so he starts at the end.
“Ian’s gone, Mands.” Mickey whispers. Maybe if he says it quietly it won’t sound as bad as it actually is.
It doesn’t work. “What the fuck do you mean gone?” Mandy asks, her tone sharp and borderlining on shrill.
Mickey takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. “He just took the kid and the car and left.”
“He took Yevgeny?” Mandy sounds confused. “Mickey, what the fuck is going on? What did you do?”
For some reason, telling his sister makes everything ten times more real, ten times more likely that this is all not some nightmare that Ian is going to shake him awake from and hold him afterwards. For some reason, telling his sister causes the final wall to break.
“That’s the point, Mandy. I didn’t do anything.” Mickey whispers, his voice cracking through the phone. “I didn’t do anything but sit back and ignore it until it got worse… and then when I was finally ready to fucking do something, he fucking bolts.”
“Mickey, tell me everything.”
So Mickey rewinds to the beginning and lets go.
He tells Mandy about the suitcase and the pills and the other suitcases and the organizing. He glosses over the oddly crazy amount of sex they’ve been having and instead focuses on the weird fights. He tells her about how he tried to talk to Ian but got distracted, how he found out Ian was cheating on him, how Ian made a porno without a condom, how he threatened Ian, how Ian left.
Mickey does exactly what Mandy asked. He tells her everything.
“Fuck,” is all Mandy can say afterwards and Mickey can’t help but huff out a laugh.
“Yeah… fuck.”
“Why didn’t you call me sooner? I could have tried to do something.” Mandy says desperately.
All of a sudden, Mickey feels every mile of distance between him and his sister. “What the fuck are you going to do from Indiana, Mandy?”
“I don’t know!” Mandy barks right back. “Be there for you? Talk to Ian? He’s my goddamn best friend and he kidnapped my nephew. I’m pretty sure there is something I could have fucking done.”
The implication of her sentence, whether intentional or not, stings. “Because you’re better than me?”
“I never said that, asshole.”
A tense silence falls over the phone until Mandy sighs. Her tone is softer this time.
“You did all you could do, Mickey, and Ian will be okay. He’s just- He’s just lost right now and the only person he felt like he had in his corner pushed him away.” Mickey once again feels like he’s been punched in the stomach and starts to interrupt Mandy. She cuts him off before he can even begin. “You didn’t mean to , Mickey, but that’s what he is probably thinking… but I know Ian Gallagher and no matter what demons are taking over him, he is still Ian and he’ll come home.”
Mickey wants to believe her. He really really does.
“How the fuck do you know that though?
“I just know these things. I’ve been in love with Ian Gallagher for as long as you, Mickey. In fact, I’ve been in love with him for longer.” Mandy doesn’t sound bitter, but Mickay has always wondered if she was. Mickey has always wondered if he should have ever apologized for basically stealing his sister’s boyfriend. Too little, too late now.
They hang up not long after that, Mandy having to run to work and Mickey promising that he’ll keep her posted.
Mickey stares at the call log on his phone. 16 minutes and 12 seconds.
It is probably the longest conversation he has had with Mandy in years and of course it was about Ian Gallagher.
Mickey doesn’t so much as wake up and realize that Ian’s been gone for a whole day, but he’s been up all night and the sun is up again and he realizes that it’s been a whole day. And that Ian and Yevgeny are still gone.
No missed calls. No text messages. Nothing on his phone except for that stupid background picture that Ian had insisted on setting a few months ago.
Mickey stares at the picture and remembers the day it was taken. It had been between that small period where he truly thought Ian was okay. Ian wasn’t laying in bed for days on end nor was he bouncing off the walls and talking a mile a minute. It was when Ian would smile at him and mean, when Ian could laugh softly at Mickey’s lame jokes, when there was no threat of hospitals or drugs looming over everything. It was when Ian had grabbed Mickey and kissed his cheek, his hand stretched out to take a selfie. Mickey had been barely awake but smiled anyway. He’d always smile for Ian Gallagher.
Mickey stares at the picture for a second longer before stretching the cinks out of his neck and getting back to calling Ian. Deep down he knows the disappointment that’s coming, but he charges forward.
You’ve reached the voicemail….
Mickey hangs up and tries again.
You’ve reached the voicemail….
and again.
You’ve reached the voicemail….
and again.
The pattern continues and each voicemail gets more and more desperate. It’s the 200th phone call that causes Mickey to snap. (It’s actually the 215th call but again who’s counting.)
“All right, shithead. This is like the 200th time I’m calling and you’re not picking up. I’m starting to get fucking homicidal. Call me the fuck back, Ian.”
…
“I’m worried about you. I love you.”
Where the fuck had that come from? Before Mickey can process what he’d just said, Svetlana is in front of him, talking labor and babies and cops and in Russian.
Then Svetlana leaves and Mickey is all alone. No Ian, no Yevgeny, no Nika, no Iggy, no stray Gallaghers, no Mandy.
For his 201st (216th) phonecall of the day, Mickey’s call goes to voicemail. Typical.
Five minutes later, he gets a text message.
Mandy: im at work. couldnt answer call but can text. find ian????
Mickey: no. i did something stupid.
Mandy: ???????????
Mickey: i told him tht i loved him over vmail
It takes a few minutes for Mandy to get back to him after that.
Mandy: did u mean it?
Mickey: yeah
Mandy: then it’s not stupid
Mickey is unsure how to respond but before he can even think about it, he gets another text from Mandy.
Mandy: he knows w/o u telling him anyway
Mandy: none of this shit is abt u, rmber that
Mickey: i miss you, mandy
(message unsent)
Mickey flakes out at the last second and doesn’t send it. He doesn’t need to pour his soul out over the phone to two people today.
“I’m going to go make a phone call.” Mickey mutters, unable to sit around and wait anymore. All he’s done these past couple days is wait. Mickey is tired of fucking waiting. “Come and get me if they bring him out.”
Lip barely looks at him, but Debbie smiles reassuringly and Mickey makes his way outside to call someone, anyone.
Mandy barely says hello before Mickey unloads on her. Once again. It’s not until Mickey’s gasping for breath and has tears in his eyes while talking about Ian being arrested and sedated in jail does Mandy break in.
“Mick- Mickey. Calm down, breathe. Where are you?”
“Some fucking town in Indiana?” Mickey replies, remembering the horrible three hour car ride he’d just endured with Ian’s siblings.
“You’re in Indiana? Where?” Mandy asks, sounding shocked.
Like the amazing brother he is, it’s only then does Mickey remember that Mandy is also in Indiana. “Terre Haute.”
“Terre Haute? Fuck, Mickey. I think that’s only a few hours from here. Do you want me to meet you?”
Mickey does. Mickey really does, but Mickey also doesn’t want anyone else to be subjected to all of this. Nobody should have to see Ian like this. Mickey doesn’t even want to see Ian like this.
He shakes his head though he knows his sister can’t see. “Nah. It’s fine. Lip said something about getting out of here as soon as Ian is released.”
“Are you sure?” Mandy sounds disappointed and Mickey feels even worse. He’s saved from having to really give her an answer when Debbie sticks her head out the door and waves him inside.
“Yeah. Look, Mandy, I got to go. They are bringing Ian out soon. Uh, thanks for the talk.” Mickey sputters out, feeling like an asshole.
“Okay.” Mandy says quietly. “Give Ian a huge hug from me. Yevgeny too.”
Mickey does just that. He ignores the terrified look on Ian’s face and just holds him. He holds the boy he loves more than anything in the world, he holds the boy he’s spent the last few days (few years) stressing over. He holds the boy that is Mandy’s best friend. He holds Ian and doesn’t want to let go.
He does the same with Yevgeny.
Later in the car, right before Ian passes out on his shoulder, Mickey whispers to him that Mandy says hi. He swears he sees Ian’s lip quirk up, but he could be imagining things.
Mickey doesn’t really know what the truth is anymore. He does know he should have asked his sister to come though.
Ian’s locked up. Ian’s in the mental hospital. Ian is going to be gone for three days. Ian is going to get better. Ian is finally getting some fucking help, help he was not getting with Mickey.
He repeats this mantra in his head over and over again. He repeats this mantra to Mandy when he calls her later that night with yet another update.
“You did okay, Mickey.” For some reason, these words hurt more when Mandy says them than when Lip said them only hours (or was it days? weeks?) before.
The words causes him to forget his mantra.
“I failed.” Mickey whispers as he lays in his empty bed and stares at the ceiling.
Mandy hisses. “You did not fail. I was there, Mickey. Those fucking Gallaghers were not around every day, they have no fucking clue. I was and I know what I’m saying.”
Maybe someday, Mickey will believe it. Today, or any time soon for that matter, is not the day.
Today, Mickey is just going to repeat his mantra.
Ian’s locked up. Ian’s in the mental hospital. Ian is going to be gone for three days. Ian is going to get better. Ian is finally getting some fucking help, help he was not getting with Mickey.
Mickey says fuck you to his own mantra the next day.
Ian’s there physically, but he is somewhere else mentally. Ian doesn’t look at him. Ian doesn’t say a word to him. Mickey smiles through it all even though he knows it’s fake as shit.
The smile drops the second Ian stands to leave without saying goodbye. The smile doesn’t come back for a long time.
It’s not Mickey’s first bottle of alcohol that night and it’s definitely not his last. He thinks that maybe it’s his fourth, but Mickey has never been good at keeping track of things.
He stumbles into the Milkovich house and is met with nothing but silence.
“Iggy? Where the fuck is everybody?” Mickey doesn’t call for Ian, at least he has enough sense to know that him being home is impossible. “Svet?” He trips on the last name and ends up sprawled on the floor with a cut on his cheek and crying into Ian Gallagher’s jacket.
For a split second, he wonders what his father would say if he saw him now. He doesn’t get time to dwell on it because his phone rings, the loud shrill sound deafening in the empty room.
“Hello?” Mickey all but slurs into the phone.
“I take it the visit didn’t go well?” Mandy asks, her voice gentle and not at all like her usual brash sound.
“Nope.” Mickey finds the bottle of vodka he dropped and takes a giant swig.
“How’s Ian?” Mandy asks, her voice still quiet. It’s almost feels like she’s mocking Mickey.
“Fucking dandy.” Mickey drawls, one hand still wrapped around the bottle, the other clutching his cellphone and Ian’s jacket. “He fits right in with all those other hollowed eyed freaks in that nut house.”
“You don’t mean that.”
She’s right, he didn’t.
“I have nobody anymore, Mandy.”
The gentle tone of Mandy’s voice is gone in an instant. “What the fuck does that mean? You have so many people, Mick. You have Iggy and me. You have Svetlana and Yevgeny. Fuck, you have Ian Gallagher and the gaggle of Gallaghers that come with him. Do you have any idea how jealous I am? I worked my ass off to be accepted by that family, yet there you are.” Her voice quiets once again. “You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and you really need to stop stealing my sloppy seconds.”
Mickey lets out a loud laugh despite himself that echoes throughout the quiet, hollow Milkovich house.
Maybe someday he’ll stop feeling sorry for himself but not tonight.
“Come home, please. I miss you, Mandy.”
(message finally sent)
Now it’s probably Mandy’s turn to feel sorry for him. “I can’t come home, Mickey. You understand why.”
Mickey doesn’t, but he pretends like he does. He’s been getting really good at doing that lately.
“Ian will come home soon and everything will go back to normal. You won’t even miss me.”
Sure, Mandy. Whatever you fucking say.
Mandy was partially right.
Ian comes home and Mandy doesn’t.
It’s rocky at first, but things right themselves. Ian eventually agrees to take his meds, Svetlana eventually agrees to calm down about Yevgeny, Mickey eventually relaxes enough to start feeling normal again.
Mickey still misses his sister though.