Work Text:
Knock knock knock.
“It's open!” Carl yelled at the door.
Ian made a face and elbowed his brother in the ribs.
The knocking at the door got louder and heavier.
Ian and Carl looked at each other and without a word, they both balled up their fists for a quick match of ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’.
Ian chuckled evilly as he wrapped his hand around Carl's fist. Carl moved to stand, but the pounding on the door hadn't stopped at all; it had gotten even heavier, like someone was literally trying to beat the door down.
Ian set his hand on Carl's arm, guiding him back down to the couch as he stood. “Stay here,” he instructed, and Carl nodded.
Ian stomped over to the door and threw it open, ready to scream or throw punches, depending on who was standing on his porch. But when he recognized the face, he froze.
“Mandy?”
Mandy reared up and let her hand fly, slapping Ian across the face. He stumbled backward and held his cheek.
“What the fuck, Mandy?”
Carl chuckled from the couch.
Mandy stomped her way inside, placing both hands on Ian's chest and pushing him roughly back into the living room. Ian backed away from her as she kept advancing on him, backing him all the way into the kitchen.
“Where have you been?” She snarled.
“Me? You're the one that ran off to Indiana! When did you get back?”
“This isn't about me! Why haven't you come to see Mickey since he's got out?”
Ian's eyes widened. “Mickey's out?”
“Do you care?” She threw at him, and he frowned.
“What has he told you?”
“Almost nothing!” She screeched. “His face just goes blank when I mention you. What the fuck did you do, Ian?”
“What makes you think it was me?”
She flared her nostrils at him, and he sighed.
“I just…” He stumbled, looking for the words, “I needed to work on my life. And I couldn't do that with him. As much as you love Mickey, you have to admit that he's a fucking hurricane. He's always involved in something illegal and always looking over his shoulder because someone is looking to hurt him and he's just walking chaos.”
“You used to crave that chaos. You once told me that that chaos was the only thing that made you feel alive.”
Ian blinked slowly. She was right. Mickey was a thrill a minute, but he was fun. There was never a dull moment with him around.
“Did you tell him this, or did you just end it without an explanation?”
Ian rolled his eyes. “What would he have said to me if I tried to explain myself? He'd have called me a pussy.”
Mandy shook her head in disgust. “You couldn't be more wrong.”
Ian grimaced. “Mandy-”
“Well, you don't need to worry about his chaos anymore,” She said morosely. Ian heard something in her tone.
“Is he okay?”
“Come see for yourself,” She said simply, turning and walking back toward the front door. She opened it and looked back over her shoulder. “See him, Ian. He needs it, even if he won't admit it. You need it, too.”
With that, she was gone.
****
“Go away!”
“Lip, it's me. Come on, open up.”
Lip groaned and threw his book closed, heaving himself off his bed and shuffling over to the door. He opened it and Ian blew in.
“I need your help.”
Lip stood by the now open door, blank-faced. “Hello, brother dear. How nice to see you.”
Ian scoffed. “I need a hacker.”
That piqued Lip’s interest. He closed his door and sat down in his computer chair, facing the bed where Ian now sat.
“What are we hacking into?” Lip asked, grinning mischievously.
“Federal prison files?” Ian asked with a grimace.
Lip’s smile fell. “Are you serious?”
The look on Ian's face was a good enough answer.
“That's big, dude. That's not like a $200 fine and some community service. That's like, 'serving time if they trace this back to you’ big.”
“I know, I know,” Ian said impatiently.
Lip sighed. “This is about Mickey, isn't it?”
Ian looked away.
“Ian, you need to get over this. Why are you so hung up on him? You were the one that ended it.”
“I know!” Ian yelled, shaking his head. He already knew this was stupid; he didn't need Lip reminding him, too. “I just…” He sighed. “Mandy came over.”
Lip's eyes went wide. “Mandy's back? How long? Is she staying? Is she okay? Is that fuckhead with her?” He fired off question after question, not pausing for an answer.
Ian held up his hands and shrugged. “I don't know! I don't know when she got back, how long she's here for or if she's still with that asshole. But I didn't see any bruises on her, so I'm taking that as a good sign.”
Lip relaxed a little. “Why did she…” He trailed off.
“She told me that Mickey's out.”
“He's out?” Lip asked, raising an eyebrow. “Since when? I thought he had fifteen years. It's only been what, three? How is he out so early?”
“I don't know!” Ian said for the millionth time, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mandy didn't really give me any explanation.” He chuckled. “She did hit me, though.”
Lip snickered and rolled his eyes.
“She told me I should go see him.”
Lip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then instead of hacking into his prison file, why don't you, I don't know, go see him?” He asked, annoyed.
Ian grimaced. “Because I need to know what I'm getting myself into.”
“Wha-?” Lip scoffed, shaking his head.
“Please, Lip,” Ian begged softly. “I know I'm being unreasonable, but please just help me.”
Lip scowled, knowing he couldn't resist Ian's puppy dog eyes. He sighed and turned to his computer, typing so fast that Ian couldn't keep up.
“Metropolitan Correctional Center… M… Milkovich…” Lip murmured to himself as he typed. “Let's see, we got Terrence, Colin, Igor, Amanda and there we go. Mikhailo! Doo, doo, doo, doo, doooooo….” Lip hummed, clicking and typing and clicking some more.
Ian looked over Lip’s shoulder, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.
“A-ha! Release record. Looks like Mikey was released…” He stopped and sat up straight. “Three months ago.”
Ian's eyes widened. “He's been out three months and hasn't even called?” He asked angrily.
“Can you blame him, Ian? You've been pretty cold,” He reasoned, never one to shy away from calling out bullshit, even his own brother’s. “He was in prison for three years and you visited him what, four times?”
Ian looked to the ground guiltily. “Five,” He said softly.
“You made it pretty clear that you were done with him. You can't be mad that he's finally done with you, too.”
Ian frowned, then shook his head, turning his eyes back to the computer screen. “Does it say why he was let out?”
Lip scrolled and scrolled until he found a section on his release. “Released into the care of Amanda Milkovich, under-” He cut himself off with a gulp. He turned to face Ian. “Medical furlough.”
Ian blew out a sigh. “That's good, right? At least he didn't bust out, or snitch his way out.”
“Ian,” Lip said calmly, “Did you hear me? Medical furlough.”
Ian raised an eyebrow, and Lip rolled his eyes.
“We know two people that have been released from prison on medical furlough; Grammy and Frank.”
“And?” Ian asked, clearly missing the point.
“And they were both dying, Ian.”
Just like that, everything clicked into place in Ian's mind. It took a little longer these days, but everything finally made sense. His jaw dropped and he shook his head. “No. That can't be possible. He's only twenty-fucking-three!”
Lip frowned.
Ian's breathing got heavy and he started pacing, tapping his hands against his thighs. “No. That's not possible, it can't be possible.”
“Ian,” Lip said cautiously, standing slowly so as not to spook him. He knew that medicated or not, something this big could throw Ian into a psychotic break if it wasn't handled properly.
Ian stopped looked at Lip, eyes frantic. “I have to go,” He said quickly before turning and all but sprinting out the door. Lip ran after him.
“Ian! Ian, wait!” He yelled down the dorm hall. But it was too late. Ian was already gone.
****
“What happened?”
Mandy frowned, flicking the ashes of the end of her cigarette. “It's not my story to tell,” She said sadly.
Ian rolled his eyes, unsatisfied with that answer. “Don't give me that bullshit, Mandy. You came to me for a reason.”
“Yeah, and that reason is because I know you still care about him,” She snapped.
“Please tell me what happened.”
“Visit him. See for yourself,” She said simply.
Ian flipped his cigarette into the backyard. “Amanda Nadiya Milkovich-” He started angrily, but Mandy whirled around and stuck her finger in his face.
“Don't you fucking dare! You are in no position to make demands here, Ian! You crushed my brother’s heart! You abandoned him when all he ever did was try to take care of you.”
“He tried to kill my sister, Mandy.”
“That's Mickey!” Mandy yelled, throwing her hands up. “It's what he does! He protects the people he loves. He may have done some bad things, but he did them with the best of intentions.”
“I know,” Ian frowned.
Mandy stepped closer to him and set a hand on his shoulder. “Please just go see him.”
“I don't know if I can,” He admitted shakily. “Does he even want to see me?”
“Doesn't matter what he wants. It's what he needs. You need it, too.”
Ian sighed.
“Please, Ian. I have never seen anyone love someone else the way you and Mickey love each other.”
A lump formed in Ian's throat at Mandy's words.
“You and him will never be finished with each other. There's always gonna be something there. Even if for some stupid reason, you don't love him anymore, you still care about him. He needs to know that. Please, Ian.”
Ian blew out a heavy breath. “I'll do it,” He breathed, barely audible. “I'll go see him.”
“Eeeeeeeee!” Mandy squealed, hopping up and down a few times before throwing her arms around Ian and squeezing. “Thank you, Ian. Thank you.”
****
Ian wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs for what must have been the six hundredth time that day. The temperature couldn't have been higher than 50, but he felt sticky with sweat all over.
A ticker was counting every step he took, numbers flipping in his mind every time his feet hit the pavement like an old alarm clock. He was just a few blocks away now.
He wondered how Mickey would look. If he was sick, would he be pale? Scrawny and weak? Would the once-vibrant eyes Ian loved so much be drearily and dull? He shook his head at the thought. Anything but his eyes…
Ian closed his eyes to center himself. He turned the corner and could see the Milkovich house looming ominously just a block away. Bile started to rise in his throat, and he set a hand on his stomach, hoping it would quell the vomit urges he was having. It didn’t do a whole lot, but at least his mouth stopped watering. He closed the gap slowly, walking up to the house that he had no business being anywhere near. At least, not anymore.
The house was so familiar, yet completely different. The same garbage littered the yard, the same paint peeling off the shutters, the same weeds sprouting from the cracks in the concrete. A large sheet of plywood was propped up against the bottom of the porch stairs, stretching all the way to the landing. Ian cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t think any further on it. He took a deep breath and walked up the stairs slowly, like he was wading through maple syrup. Before he knew it, he was standing right in front of the door.
This is it. Come on, Ian. Don’t be a coward.
His hand was shaking as he lifted it, knocking on the door three times. He closed his eyes for a second.
The handle turned, and Ian braced himself. If it was Mickey opening the door, he’d almost certainly be decked in the face.
The door opened, and Ian blew out a breath. It wasn’t Mickey, but another all-too-familiar face; Svetlana. Ian was initially happy to see her, but that relief faded almost immediately. She didn’t look happy. Even more ‘not happy’ than she usually did. Her eyes went cold and her mouth set into a dirty scowl.
“Why are you here?” She spat.
Ian’s mouth fell open. “I-I’m here to see Mickey.”
“He doesn’t want to see you. Not ever again.”
She slammed the door so hard that Ian took a step back. What the fuck?
“Who’s at the fucking door?”
The breath was knocked from Ian’s chest when he heard Mickey’s voice from inside. The Milkoviches never were good at whispering.
“Nobody important.”
“Svet, who was it?”
A pause.
“Orange boy.”
“What?”
Ian recoiled at the anger in Mickey’s voice.
“What the fuck is he doing here? Mandy?”
Another pause.
“Amanda!”
“I asked him to come, okay?”
“Why?”
“He still cares about you, Mickey. He still loves you.”
“I don’t care! I’m done with him.”
“Mickey, please! Just let him see you.”
“See me? Like this?”
Ian frowned. Like what?
Mickey’s next words were softer, thick with emotion. “I’m not a fuckin' freak show, Mands.”
“Just talk to him.”
“No.”
“Mickey, please!”
“No!”
“What’s all the fucking yelling about?” Ian recognized Iggy’s voice.
There was a second of silence before Svetlana spoke. “Ian is here.”
Ian counted to seven before he heard the next words. Unfortunately, they all came at once.
“Iggy!”
“Stop!”
“Get him!”
A heavy pounding resounded through the building’s foundation as Iggy ran to the door, throwing it open and lunging at Ian. Ian didn’t even have time to move before Iggy’s hands were wrapped in his shirt. He slammed Ian against the wall, leaning in until Ian could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath.
“Who do you think you are?” He growled in Ian’s face, low and dangerous. Ian had never been scared of Iggy before, since he was easily the most friendly, playful and easy-going Milkovich (as friendly as Milkoviches got), but right now, snarling in Ian’s face, Ian was terrified. Iggy could brawl with the best of them, and Ian had seen what he could do when he was moderately angry. Right now, he was fucking livid.
“Iggy-” Ian said as calmly as he could.
Iggy wasn’t having it. He pulled Ian away from the wall and slammed him back against it. Ian could already feel the bruises forming on his shoulder blades. “You think you can shit on my family, then come back and we’ll act like nothing ever happened?”
“Iggy, let him go!” Mandy demanded, standing next to Svetlana in the open doorway.
“He trusted you. He let you in. He cared about you. And you abandoned him. What makes you think you have any right to be here? We were doing just fine without you.”
“Iggy!”
“I say hit him,” Svetlana said coldly.
“He was doing fine without you. You broke him, and you have the balls to come back?” He spat, getting even closer.
“That’s enough, Ig.”
Ian drew in a breath when he heard Mickey’s voice.
Iggy kept his scowl firm, but he backed away, pushing Ian as he let go of his shirt.
Ian kept his eyes on Iggy for a moment, knowing how impulsive the Milkoviches could be, and wanting to be ready if he decided to throw a punch after all. But the call was too much. Ian blinked slowly, turning his head toward the open door, where Svetlana and Mandy had parted. His heart fell when Mickey came into the front hall. Tears gathered instantly in his eyes, and his stomach knotted worse than he’d ever felt before.
“Mickey?” He whispered.
He wasn’t pale, wasn’t sickly. His eyes weren’t dull or lifeless. No, none of that was different.
He was in a wheelchair.
Mickey wheeled over to the door, but was stuck at the threshold, struggling to get over the lip of the front door. Svetlana and Mandy both moved to give him a nudge, but he angrily shook them both off.
“I can do it!” He snapped at them, and they both jumped back. He grit his teeth as he pushed himself, and his wheels finally overcame the bulge on the floor. He rolled over to Ian, looking up at him sadly.
“Mick…” Ian gasped. He didn’t even know what to say. What was there to say?
“This what you wanted?” He asked angrily. “Satisfy your curiosity?”
Ian frowned. “Mickey, I didn’t-”
“Why are you here, Ian? You made it pretty clear that we were over. We were doing fine without each other. From what I hear, you’ve got a good thing going. Good job, making decent money, saving lives like you’ve always wanted. Why did you come back?”
Ian sighed. “I needed to see you.”
“Why?” Mickey asked again.
Ian stared down at his shoes. “Because I still care about you.”
Mickey scoffed. “Go back inside, Ig,” He said over his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
Iggy glared at Ian so intensely, he felt his temperature rise, but he walked back inside, pushing the girls with him and closing the door, leaving Ian and Mickey alone for the first time in years.
A heavy silence fell on the two. There were so many things that Ian wanted to say, to ask. But he didn’t know what was okay, where he and Mickey stood.
Mickey sighed. “Been a while.”
Ian nodded morosely, and Mickey rolled his eyes.
“Do it.”
“Do what?”
“Ask me. I know you want to know.”
Ian closed his eyes slowly. When he opened them back up, Mickey was still staring up at him intently.
Ian sighed. “What happened?”
Mickey wheeled himself over to the stairs as he spoke, nodding for Ian to come with. “I was jumped. Think they were Latin Kings. Terry used to deal with them when he was inside. I figure they looking for a Milkovich to fuck up, and they didn’t care which one. Whoever had the shiv knew what he was doing. Stabbed me three times, severed my spinal cord.”
Ian made a noise in his throat, a broken sob.
“I’ll never walk again.”
Ian sniffed and quickly wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Mickey turned his head toward Ian, fire in his eyes. “Why would I have done that?”
Ian frowned.
“You ended it. Dumping me, then visiting me five times in three years? You couldn’t have made it any more obvious if you’d spelled it out for me.”
“I still care, Mick. I always will.”
Mickey scoffed. “Good to know. Doesn’t change anything.”
“Do you ever miss me?”
“Of course I do. I love you, Ian. It’s gonna take me awhile to get over it completely.”
“Mandy said-”
“I don’t care what Mandy said. She’d say anything to get us back together. She’s living vicariously through us.”
“You don’t want to?”
Mickey looked at Ian incredulously. “Is that why you’re here? You wanna get back together?” He asked with a cold, sarcastic laugh.
Ian shrugged. “I wouldn’t hate it. Things have been different without you, Mickey, and I'm not sure I like it. I needed to fix my life, get everything squared away."
"I could've helped you. That's all I was trying to do; get your meds balanced out, get you back to normal, get you to where you felt like yourself again. I was trying to help, and you just pushed it away."
"I know. And I'm sorry. But I’m better now. If you want to try again…”
Mickey shook his head. “Why? So you can break my heart again?”
“Mick-”
“You ran off to the Army. Then you forced me out of the closet against my will. You stole my kid. You basically told me to fuck off when you got out of the hospital. You went off with Monica. Then you broke up with me. One thing after another. Every time, I tell myself we can work it out, that things will be different this time, and every time we manage to fuck it up again. I’m not saying it was always your fault. I fucked you over a lot in the beginning. Maybe we’re just not meant to be a thing.”
Ian could feel his heart shattering as Mickey spoke. “We can keep trying," He pleaded. He wasn't sure when this visit turned into begging for another chance, but now that the idea was in his head, he wanted it more than anything. "I’m better now, Mickey. I'm me again, I'm-I'm normal again. I promise.”
“What’s a promise worth? You think I’m a piece of furniture.”
“What?”
“You think I’m always gonna be here waiting for you, just dicking around until you decide that you wanna try again. And I have been for a long time. But I’m done with it. You don’t get to do that, Ian.”
“Do what?”
“Leave when things get complicated. You left to sort your life out, and now that you’re settled, you want to come back. Well, you don’t get to do that. A relationship means together. It means we take care of each other. I've been trying to care of you for a long time. But it's never the other way around.”
Ian opened his mouth to object, but he couldn’t. Mickey was telling the truth.
“I’m tired. I’ll never be the same," Mickey confessed, "I have to adjust to my new life as a fucking paraplegic, I've got doctors and examinations and medications and all that bullshit. I need to take care of myself. You needed to get your shit together, and you couldn't do it with me tagging along. Well, now it's my turn to push you away," Mickey reasoned, tears slowly filling his eyes.
"Don't do this," Ian whimpered.
"Listen, you don’t owe me anything,” Mickey said, his voice breaking. Ian recognized the words he’d said to Mickey three years ago on his porch.
“I love you,” Ian insisted, and Mickey blinked his tears away.
“I wish that was enough, Ian,” Mickey sobbed. “I really do.”
Ian squeezed his eyes shut as tears fell down his face. “Is this it, then? We’re done?”
Mickey sniffled and nodded. “For good this time.” He looked up from the ground, wet eyes meeting Ian’s own. “I love you, Ian. But we’re better off alone.”
Ian’s eyes slipped closed, and he pulled his knees to his chest, as if that was gonna keep him from shattering. He nodded once, eyes still closed. He didn’t see Mickey reach out for him, drawing his hand back before he touched the boy.
Mickey bit his lip to keep his sobbing quiet and turned his chair, wheeling himself back into his house. The door closed with a soft click, and Ian buried his face in his knees, his entire body shaking with sobs.
He heard the door’s deadbolt lock behind him.