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Escaped. Of course, Mickey escaped from federal prison. Part of Ian wasn’t even surprised when the detective turned up outside his house. What he didn’t expect was to be outed visiting his convict ex to his current boyfriend, his sister, and his brother. Both of whom had been very vocal against his relationship with the youngest Milkovich boy. Trevor had wisely said his goodbyes as soon as the cop car headlights had disappeared around the corner; Ian couldn’t even look at him. Just nodded absently, still staring at the spot the detective had been standing and avoiding the judging and confused eyes of Lip and Fiona.
Ian shoved his hands into his pockets and headed back into the house. He made a beeline for the fridge and downed half a beer before Lip and Fiona could round on him. Meds be damned, he needed to destress. He never even got a chance to sit down at the table before the questions started, before the judgemental tones appeared.
“What the hell did that cop mean Ian? Visited on several occasions? When the hell did you visit? Better yet, why the hell did you visit?” Lip’s voice broke rang out from the living room and Fiona and him came charging into the house. His voice shook Ian out of his head, where he had been replaying his last conversation with Mickey in his head … had Mickey hinted that he would be escaping? Or something like that. The conversation had seemed so normal.
Ian just shrugged at them, “Not sure what you want me to say? Yeah, I visited Mickey, so what?”
“So what? … Ian … sweet face” Fiona moved towards him slowly as if she half expected a bipolar episode to just explode from him. Her face was full of fake concern and confusion. “Mickey is bad news; you know this. I mean look what he did to Sammi, how he’s treated you in the past. What he’s put you through. You’ve come so far, why are you … you are still taking your meds, right? Maybe you need them readjusted?”
Fiona turned to Lip, “Maybe we should take him to the clinic tomorrow to see if something needs to be changed.”
Ian couldn’t help himself, he scoffed into the beer bottle. “My meds are fine, Fiona. Yes, I’m still taking them. No, I don’t need to go to the clinic. But thanks so much for NOT including me in that decision you just made with Lip about MY health!!”
Ian slammed the bottle down onto the table, harder than he had meant to, but it seems to get his point across. Fiona and Lip stopped having a hushed discussion about Ian’s meds, bipolar, and who was free to go with Ian because apparently, he wasn’t trusted enough to go on his own.
They both approached the table, sitting across from him in some weird interrogation-style chat. Ian was glad he had chosen the chair closest to the backdoor for a quick getaway if things got out of hand.
“I get you are concerned because I’ve not mentioned anything. But this...” Ian gestured with his hands, “Is exactly WHY I never said anything, because you would both just jump to very wrong conclusions.” Ian took a deep breath and wrapped his hands around the half-drunk beer, his fingers peeling at the label.
“I’ve been visiting Mickey since he got locked up … since I got my meds balanced out. Figured he deserved a better explanation. It was a rough first visit, he was hurt. Last time I’d seen him before I’d gotten everything evened out … Lana had to pay me, and he … he tattooed my name on his chest. And holy shit did it look infected. And I lied to him, straight to his face, told him I’d wait ‘til he got out. I mean we both knew I lied but it still hurt. Especially considering I couldn’t even look him in the eye.”
Ian took a breath, the shakiness of it almost surprised him. He was so sure that he had his feelings about Mikey all figured out. He was just an ex, an ex who he took a 4-hour round trip to visit more often than he wanted to admit to Fiona, maybe Lip after a few beers and a joint.
“Look, I know he isn’t your favourite person in the world, and I could try justifying everything that happened, especially with Sammi. You know what she did to me, that probably set me back more than anything … considering it sent me running to Monica.” Ian had spent a lot of time thinking about his last conversation with Mickey before Sammi had decided to start shooting. If Sammi hadn’t turned up, would things have been different?
Fiona and Lip were having a hushed conversation, with Fiona shaking her head vigorously at Lip, then nodding her head towards Ian with her eyebrows raised, before leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Lip’s shoulders dropped as though he had just lost an argument with Fiona – which he probably had, silently at least.
“Ian. Do you know where Mickey is right now? Like no cops, just us. Just Gallaghers. Did you know that he was planning to escape?”
Ian’s mind still trying to play through his last few conversations with Mickey. Every single time his eyebrows even remotely twitched, or when he rubbed his thumb over his lips when one of them made a vaguely dirty joke. Ian couldn’t figure it out, there was no subtle hit, nothing that would make him that he would be seeing Mickey out from behind bars, sooner than he was supposed to.
“I swear down, I had no clue. Not that he could tell me since we were in prison, but no clue. Never hinted to me at all.” Ian’s shoulders slumped over, his mind racing. Why wouldn’t he hint to me? Did his visits do nothing but pass the time until Mickey could escape and never think of Ian again? The ache in his chest seemed to grow, making it harder to breathe.
Fiona’s voice shook him out of his daydream. “But when Ian, you're busier than ever right now, when do you have time to go visit him in prison? I mean between working, Trevor, helping out around the house, and seeing your shrink twice a week …”
“Once a week Fi, I see my shrink once a week. I go see Mick on the other day.” He could see Fiona getting ready to blow. “I’ve never missed an actual session with Dr. Goldstein before you blow your top. I never needed two sessions, I just needed a reason to be out of the house without getting a million questions. And I knew that by saying I was going to see him, no one would ask any questions, why would you? I was being a good little boy, taking my meds and seeing my shrink … don’t need to worry about him anymore.”
Fiona slumped down in her chair, “why lie Ian, maybe I get you not telling me, but Lip? He is supposed to be your best friend, you are supposed to tell each other everything.” Ian just shrugged not even looking in Lip’s direction. Both him and Lip knew that their relationship had changed too much. They weren’t teenagers bonding over a joint, complaining about homework and Lip’s infatuation with Karen. Too much had happened between then and now for Ian to feel even remotely comfortable having a brotherly heart to heart. “Just easier I guess, don’t need to tell different lies to anyone, or get anyone to lie for me if you all think I’m at therapy.”
The three of them sat in silence for a while, digesting the news that Mickey Milkovich had escaped prison and that Ian had been visiting him before his escape.
Lip cleared his throat causing Ian and Fiona to jump a little. “Circling back for a sec…” Lip’s voice cracked as he struggled to keep a straight face. “He tattooed your name to his chest … in prison?!” Ian just smiled and let out a shakey laugh, “Yeah, yeah he did man.” Lip let out a sigh, “So fucking gone on you, even from prison man. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
***********
Another hour passed before Ian dragged himself up the stairs, exhausted. He collapsed onto his bed, still fully clothed, rubbing his hands over his face and staring up at the ceiling. Mick was out there, maybe somewhere in the city of Chicago, closer to Ian than he had been for the past 2 years, and he was nowhere to be found.
Ian must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew he was being rudely awoken by a cell phone ringing, he groped blindly into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He put the phone to his ear, expecting Trevor’s voice to come through, expecting more of an explanation. But the phone was still ringing, Ian cracked open an eye. His phone wasn’t ringing, the background of his phone staring back at him, one of his sunrise pictures from when he was manic. Just because he was in a bad place at the time, it didn’t mean he couldn’t still love how the sky looked.
It was his pillow that was ringing. With his heart in his mouth, Ian started throwing pillows and blankets around, looking for the source of the ringing.
“Please, please, please,” Ian muttered in what could have almost been considered a prayer as he located the small black phone inside his pillowcase. His fingers fumbled to flip the phone up to answer. Ian pressed the phone to his ear.
“Miss me?” Ian’s favourite voice. He can almost hear the smug smile, the thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. Fuck yes, he missed him. He missed him in ways that he didn’t think he would ever be able to put into words.
“Mickey…” Ian breaths back over the phone, a piece of his heart settling back into place in his chest, as though something had been missing. Everything seemed to be right in his world again.