Lip,

I want to say I'm sorry but I don't want to lie to you. Truth is, the only thing I'm sorry about is not saying goodbye, but you're the smart one and I know it probably took you all of two seconds to figure out why I did what I did. I timed this out so that it should be getting to you about a week after the morning I left because I'm kinda hoping that by now you've had enough time to forgive me. Anyway, it's only the first week here so we're just getting the basics of basic training. Nothing too exciting to report. Hey, would you tell Fi that I'll send money as soon as they give me any? Thanks.

I guess that's pretty much it. I miss you guys.

—

"I'm sorry, Lip. I thought he told you, or at least your sister. He left early in the morning, said bye to me the day before… Came by to kinda see Mickey, I think, too, before he went."
Lip didn't respond right away, his eyes glazed over.
"Look, he said he'd write. Send postcards and stuff," Mandy said, placing her hand over Lip's, which were tangled together in his lap.
"Lip?" Finally, Lip turned to face Mandy, who was visibly shaken by his silence. He blinked once, then gave Mandy her hand back. He stood up from the couch in the Milkovitch living room and made his way toward the door, Mandy trailing quietly behind him.
He turned to face her and said, "Let me know when you hear from him. And, um, thanks again. For the MIT thing."
Mandy half smiled, confused but glad that Lip had found his voice, even though she hadn't heard anyone—none of the Gallaghers or her brother—say Ian's name even once in his absence. "Talk soon?" she asked Lip.
He twisted the doorknob and let himself out, saying "Yeah, talk soon," over his shoulder.

—

"Morning! Heard y'all got a letter from—" Veronica started as she walked into the Gallagher kitchen, stopping mid sentence upon seeing Fiona's tiny balled up fists turning pink at her sides. "Hey, hey," Veronica called soothingly as she crossed the room, "Come on, Fi, breathe for a second. Have you read it? Has anyone? I think we should at least see how he's doing."
She sat herself on the counter, facing Fiona, just in time to see one tear escape onto Fiona's face, giving her away. Veronica knew Fiona had moved on from pissed off to heartbroken.
"I can't. I'm afraid it's just some big fat list of all the reasons he had to get the hell out of dodge finally. And he'd be right, V! I have no right to be upset with him for leaving this shit hole… But I am. I am! I didn't need him to leave too…" Fiona's voice broke and Veronica pulled her into a hug.
Fiona let herself stay in the fold of her friend's embrace for one minute only, then pulled away and started fussing with her hair. "It's, I really don't have time for his shit, that's all. Got a million things to do as usual. Kids all think they can skip school and stop living just because he's gone, but not today."
Veronica stared at Fiona, knowing that this was her way of coping. She had never seen Fiona cry for any extended period of time; she had never seen Fiona, her best friend, let herself feel anything completely. "What can I do, Fi?"
"Help me get their asses out of bed. I'll start breakfast."
Veronica began making her way up the staircase off the kitchen, but stopped abruptly and turned to look at Fiona once more. "He loves you. They all do. Now read the damn letter before I get Kev over here to read it aloud to the neighborhood."
Fiona cracked a smile. She waited a moment, then reached into the Squirrel Fund container and pulled out the letter addressed to Lip. It was unopened, but it had been a week since they got it, and Fiona told herself it was time somebody got the balls to read the thing.

—

I'm mostly jealous, I guess. Never thought you'd beat me out of here.
Carl's pissed. Keeps saying something about grips on a knife and you breaking your promise. I'm pretty sure he's been practicing ways to slit your throat with that thing.
Debs hasn't said a word about it to anyone other than Liam. The other day I found her in your room whispering to the kid about how she was the last ginger left and the minorities "gotta stick together." Actually pretty funny, if you think about it.
Fiona goes back and forth between "I don't want his fucking army money," and "Someone track his ass down and bring him home." She only means the second bit, though. Probably doesn't help that there's been no sign of JimmySteve.
Mandy misses you, especially since she hasn't been seeing much of me. She did tell me to let you know that one of the other Milkovitch siblings has asked about you, as she put it, "a shit ton."Whenever you change your mind, we'll be here. Not about to give fucking Frank your bed any time soon. So come home, dick.

Lip

—

"Gallagher."
"Sir."
"As you were. Have a seat, private."
Ian was in the office of his commanding officer, seating himself on a dark blue plush chair. He thought it was probably the nicest chair he'd ever sat in, other than the love seat at Sheila's. He winced at the thought of anything Chicago related. "Something the matter, son?"
Ian straightened his face into the stone mask that he had mastered in the short month that he'd been at training. "No, sir."
"See, I think that's funny," the officer stopped his sentence here, waiting for Ian's response.
Surprised, Ian asked, "Why's that, sir?"
"Because you're lying," the officer answered in a matter-of-fact tone.
"See, there is something the matter."
Ian silently wondered how one small facial expression could give so much away. "I was, uh, just thinking about home for a second. It's the chair," he finished lamely.
"I don't give a damn what you're thinking about, private. See, we've got an actual problem on our hands."

—

"Been five weeks, Mickey. Five! Don't you think it's about time you get off your ass and, I dunno, fuckin move?" Mandy shoved her foot under the limp body of her brother, who was lying face down on his bedroom floor. Using all of her strength, she was able to turn him over. He looked the worst she had ever seen him, and that was really saying something.
"You know, I thought you'd be celebrating. Annulment papers have been signed for a while now… So you're free. To, you know, be the pathetic slob you used to be."
Mickey opened his eyes but didn't budge. Mandy sat down cross-legged on the rug by his feet, seemingly out of insults to throw his way. After staring at his lifeless form for a long time, she stood back up. Mickey reached out and grabbed her ankle, and Mandy realized she could barely feel his grip.
"Don't wanna be free," was all he managed to say.
"So you're telling me you wanted to be the father of some Russian slut's kid? I learn some new shit about you everyday, Mick," Mandy snorted.
"You know I don't give a shit about her lying ass," he answered quickly.
Mandy knew she was pushing it, but she couldn't help hoping today would be the day she could trick Mickey into living his fucking life again, even if it wasn't all that glamourous of a life.
"You were right," he said before she had the time to think up a snarky reply.
"Yeah, of course I was," Mandy said, though she wasn't sure which thing Mickey was giving her credit for being right about. "Well, wait. Right about—?"
Mickey bolted into a sitting position against his bed, cutting her off. "I'm a pussy. Couldn't spit out the word go. I said don't, and he said 'don't what,' and I couldn't fucking do it. What was I supposed to say? 'I don't want you spending four years surrounded by like, fifty dicks at a time. I only want you around my dick.' Nah, couldn't say that. Fuck that."
Mandy squatted down so that she was at eye level with her dumbass brother. "So do something. Pussy."

—