Chapter Text
Ian awoke in his cell to the sound of his bunkmate snoring, the hard cement walls amplifying each breath to an almost deafening level. His throat burned, raw from lack of moisture and from swallowing his anger down for the past 2 weeks. Here he was, back in Chicago.. It took them forever to ship him up from where he had been on base. Made it through basic training and everything. Well, up until he got caught. Who woulda thought Lip Gallagher would be going to fucking college, right? It probably didn't even occur to him that Ian may have stolen his identity to enlist. Yeah, right. Then again, he and Lip weren't exactly on the best of terms before he left, too caught up in their own bullshit to see the bigger picture. If he was honest, he still couldn't see it. In fact, it was more blurry than ever.
Hopping off of his bed, he dragged his feet over to the sink and leaned down to get some water from the faucet. He would have used the cup they gave him, but it smelled and probably tasted like the soap that had been crammed in there among the comb and spork. All you need to survive a stint in jail, according to the guard who cockily shoved him in his cell earlier this morning. In a way he was glad he was awaiting sentencing, not quite sure if he was ready to face his bad choices head on in a court room. Especially knowing he was in the exact place he had been running from. The Gallagher pattern was harder to break than anyone gave it credit.
The locks on the doors banged open, signaling it was breakfast time. Throwing the top to his uniform on, Ian ran his fingers over his scalp and sighed. He knew he had to make a phone call, he just wasn't sure to who yet. In fact, he still wasn't sure even after he had set up his name with the jail's collect calling agency and entered his inmate number. Fiona? Judgement. Lip? Anger. Fingers quickly dialing before his mind had really thought it through, the redhead sucked in a breath and held it, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
"Ian?" Mandy's voice was soft and disbelieving, if he didn't know any better it might even sound concerned. A nice change from the battery of insults slewed at him lately, ones he was sure were worse when muttered while he wasn't in their presence. Apparently, she hadn't heard the news.
Mickey was sitting on his bed when he heard his little sister walk through the front door, slamming it behind her. He would have thought it was Terry if it weren't for the sound of heeled boots clanking down against hardwood. Lukewarm beer in hand, he was in the middle of trying to throw a knife perfectly in the center of a movie poster, something he told himself should be a lot fucking easier than the twelve-pack was making it. Or maybe it wasn't the beers, maybe it was the bottle of Kentucky Deluxe he had finished off about an hour ago. Did he even sleep? Couldn't remember. Svetlana had been working so he was simply savoring the alone time. Anything to keep busy, anything to stay just a little bit numb.
"Eggs?" The sound of Mandy's voice behind him set off a pang of anger and he didn't even understand where it even came from. "I won't take no for an answer."
Out of everyone, his little sister was really all he had left. It was probably the fact that she had eventually tried to be too understanding that upset him the most. He would prefer getting called a pussy any day over her concerned glances.. Kind of like the ones he was sure he was receiving right now as he sat at the table, picking at his food, not making eye contact. He didn't have to, he could feel her sympathy radiating from her long, bitchy face. Out of spite, he picked up his fork and started shoveling the eggs into his mouth. Sure, he was hungry but the thought of food made his stomach churn in a way that hurt worse than hunger. The boy wasn't about to let her start another "poor Mickey" conversation. Not a chance in hell, and the fact of the matter is she should fucking know better. He wasn't sure where this side of his sister had suddenly come from but he sure as shit wasn't alright with it.
"Did you get any sleep last night, shithead?" Mandy's mouth was full as she spoke, the perfect picture of class.
There was a quick glare between them, one that said she should mind her own fucking business and one that said he should really be grateful anyone gave a shit at all. It was interrupted by her cellphone ringing, a noise far too loud and far too early for a heavily drunk yet somehow hungover Mickey Milkovich.
“Who the fuck is this,” she mumbled, opening her phone and shushing her brother when he tried to make a smart ass comment. Her face fell a little, turned into something he could only describe as serious.
"Ian?" A long pause and then, "what happened?"
Hearing her speak Gallagher's name, he suddenly wished he hadn't swallowed those eggs.. Everything was about to find its way back up and out of his stomach. Of course, Ian had kept in contact with Mandy since he left. Normally this is the part where Mickey would get up from the table and trudge back to his room, shutting his door so he couldn't hear her laughter or try to piece together their conversations to make himself feel better. Might as well avoid torturing yourself, right? But something about her expression made trying to leave his seat impossible, the alcohol probably also to blame for his sudden lack of will power. Hundreds of thoughts ran through his head during the silence, thoughts he would have gladly stopped with a bullet had someone offered. He probably got his leg blown off. Or even, he was being held prisoner in some war camp somewhere, who the fuck knew? Would you even be allowed to make a phone call? At least he wasn't dead, that was a relief. A twinge of protectiveness slapped him in the face. He wrote it off on the fact that yeah, somebody he.. Somebody he cared about sounded like they were in trouble. He'd come far enough in Ian's absence to admit to himself that Gallagher had been more than an itch he'd needed scratched. Although the realization had gone to waste, didn't change a fucking thing, gave him no more courage whatsoever.
Mickey stared intently at his sister, willing her to say something, anything to stop his mind from making up a bunch of shitty scenarios. Scenarios that had already been thought through late at night in his room when everyone was asleep. Honestly, the scenarios that had probably made up most of the reasons he wasn't sleeping in the first place.
"Well fuck, Ian, I told you not to do it in the first place.. Yeah, I know, it's okay.. Of course I'll come to see you, dyke guards be fucked. Do you need any money for smokes? I don't know, deodorant or something? We both know you can get a little ripe.." She laughed, fixing the ponytail on the top of her head like she didn't have a care in the world.
Mickey’s heart, the one he pretended wasn’t there, sunk to his ass. There was a very confusing flutter on the way down and it made him bite at his lower lip, fingers nervously twitching over the kitchen table. Before he knew it, the conversation was over and she was back to stuffing her face. Glancing up at him with an eyebrow cocked, she tilted her head to the side slightly. He could already tell he was about to hate her even more.
"Are you going to come with me?"