Apparently I forgot to mention in the first chapter that there were three chapters in total (that's what you get when you just copy your notes from ao3 :P), but I'll be posting three days in a row anyway, so it's not really a big problem, I assume. ;)

Mandy

"Ian's coming back next week," Mandy says one day while filing her nails, and Mickey turns back to her.

"Who?"

She throws her nail file in the direction of his face. "Don't be such a dickhead."

"Who the fuck's Ian?" Anger flings through her, and she wishes she hadn't already thrown her nail file at him, because if she hadn't she'd stab his eyes out with it – she can't believe her brother is such an idiot.

"You went through with it?" she asks, her voice pitching higher with every syllable. "You actually did it?" She didn't think he'd have the guts to do it, but here her brother is, a bagel halfway to his mouth, looking at her dumbly, like he doesn't even know what she's talking about.

"Did what?" He's always evading her questions these days, always on the defense. He has no clue what he's done wrong, this time.

"I thought you were better than that," she hisses, standing up from the couch. "But you're just like the rest of them, aren't you? I suggest you grow a pair, before Ian comes back, and fix everything!" She storms by him, catching the expression on his face just before, confused as hell.

"Fix what? Mandy!" She slams the door behind her, where it rattles in its hinges.

She doesn't know where to go, at first. Ian isn't home yet; Lip doesn't want to see her, not after he let her know Ian was coming back, and she doubts the rest of the Gallaghers want to see her face. Kenyatta fucked off to God knows where; she doesn't care where he went. Everyone eventually disappears. Or dies. Same thing, really. So she knows that at some point, she'll be on her own, left to fend for herself, nothing but the Milkovich name to protect her.

Although that's a lie. She's a Milkovich in blood and bones; she needs no one but herself. She can take care of her own business.

The thing is, she thinks as she crosses underneath the El, not knowing where to walk or where to go, it's not her business. She shouldn't give a shit what Mickey does with his life, what he throws away. She shouldn't, but he's her stupid brother, idiotic enough to wipe his memories because he can't deal. Who does that, anyway? Who the fuck is stupid enough to erase entire people, just because you don't want to think about them anymore?

Mickey is, obviously. She presses her hat onto her head when a strong gust of wind passes, along with the El. Stupid enough to get married to a whore, stupid enough to get her knocked up, stupid enough to sleep with her best friend and stupid enough to forget all about him the moment it gets too hard.

She hasn't even done that herself, hasn't sunk so low to wipe them all away, hasn't considered her boyfriends important enough to even do it. Boys will always stomp on your heart and leave it behind like scrap metal after all. Men are all the same, thinking with their cock and balls, more interested in what hole they can put it next, consequences be damned.

She can't stop herself, however, from her feet taking her to the Gallagher house – it's more of a home than her own. She lets herself in through the fence, walking around the house to the back door. The yard is a sigh for sore eyes, mud everywhere, a broken train half-hidden underneath the van that permanently occupies the garden. She half-expects to see Frank passed out inside of it, but the van looks empty, and she shakes her head while walking up the steps.

Mandy only hesitates for a second or two before she raises her hand and rapidly knocks. She doesn't even know if anyone is home at this time of the day, but she has to try. "Coming, coming," she hears someone say, then, "fuck!" A few seconds later, she's staring at Lip's face.

"Weren't you at college?" she asks.

"Liam's sick," he explains and steps aside. "Don't trip over the shoes – I just did." He shuts the door behind her when she steps inside, suddenly feeling awkward, because the last thing he said to her was, "Look, can you leave? I'm pretty busy right now – and I thought you had a boyfriend?"

Liam whines in the corner from his playpen, and Lip bows forward to pick him up. With his little brother balancing on his hip, he turns back to her. "Was there anything you wanted?"

"Not really," she sighs and sits down at the kitchen table, which is covered in textbooks and stray paper. "Not anything you can help with, anyway."

"Yeah?" Lip asks, sitting down next to her, bouncing Liam a little on his lap before settling him against his chest.

"I told Mickey," she elaborates. "About Ian."

"What'd he say?"

"That fucker went and got his memory wiped."

"For real?" Lip at least has the decency to look surprised.

"He didn't even know who Ian was when I mentioned him. That's the only thing that explains it."

Lip wipes some drool off Liam's chin before he looks back up. "Maybe... maybe he just wanted to get past it, you know? Can't be hung up on the same guy forever."

Mandy raises an eyebrow. "You sure we're talking about my brother now?" Lip shrugs, but he's smiling at her anyway. "So, you think I should do anything?"

"Why? He's the one that messed it up. You don't have to run after him and fix it."

"I just hate looking at him now." Mandy leans back in her chair. "He's my brother, but also not." She pauses before adding, "Ian was good for him."

"But was Mickey good for Ian?" Lip's answer leaves her thinking, but before she can reply, Debbie storms into the house, throwing her backpack onto the floor.

"Carl ruins everything!" she shouts, before stomping up the stairs. Her brother enters the house after her, smirking to himself.

"What'd you do?" Lip asks. Liam's woken up again from all the commotion, and whines in Lip's arms.

"Man-man," he says, reaching his arms out for Mandy.

"Can you take him for a minute?" Lip asks, and puts him on her lap before she can even nod her agreement. "Hey, I asked you a question! What'd you do to upset Debbie?" Lip runs up the stairs after Carl, and she can hear them talking, but can't make out the words.

Liam feels warm to her touch, and she stands up with him still in her arms to try and find him a blanket. The best thing she learned about fevers was that you just had to sweat it all out. Besides, if Liam is just as tough as his other siblings, he'll make it out fine. She grabs his blanket from out of his playpen, and walks over to the couch while she wraps him in it.

She's not too sure what to do with the kid, though. She's the youngest of the Milkovich siblings, and while she doubts her brothers have ever looked after her, that means she's never had a younger sibling to after. Liam curiously raises his hands and pats her cheek, smiling broadly at her. How Lip got such a cute brother, she'll never know.

"Sorry for just dumping him on you," Lip says as he comes down the stairs.

"It's fine," she replies, even as Liam manages to get some spit in her hair, snot running from his nose. Lip leans forward over the backseat and wipes his face with a wayward tissue. "Better than sitting at home anyway," she adds.

"That bad?" He sits down next to her, taking Liam from her arms who yawns widely.

"Dad was dragged off to jail again, Mickey is never home, that bitch wife of his keeps complaining..."

"So, the usual," he says, with a wink.

"I guess." She grins. "Same here, right?"

"Yep." Lip brushes his hand through Liam's hair, who has drifted off on his lap. "Fiona's at her job, Debbie and Carl are fighting like normal siblings, and Ian..."

"Will be back soon," she says. "Did he tell you where he went? When he called you?"

"Nope," Lip says. "If it's up to him, he probably won't tell anyone either. Now, little man," he addresses Liam, "I'm putting you to bed. Thanks for stopping by," he tells Mandy. "You're welcome to stay for dinner, if you want?"

"No, it's fine," she says, "I should probably check in at home anyway, see if they haven't burned down the house yet." He nods, and while he walks up the stairs, she leaves through the front door.

She doesn't see her brother much the following week. He's always gone when she's home, making deals or drinking at the Alibi (or so Svetlana says when she finally asks her).

Mandy's halfway through a lit cigarette when Mickey comes stumbling into the house, leaning heavily against the door while he fumbles with his key. He drops it several times before he even notices her watching him. He's been gone for three days, and she's sick of watching him run in and out of this life. He pretends he and his wife are a nice and happy family when he's here, and doesn't even know her name when he's out on the streets. She's noticed him come home smelling like cheap aftershave more than once, and today is no exception.

"The fuck are you looking at?" he snaps at her, throwing himself on the couch next to her.

"Not at your stupid face," she mutters, angrily stubbing her cigarette out in the ashtray. "I just have to watch you fuck up over and over, not that you're doing shit about it. How does your wife feel about you being gone so often?"

"None of your business," Mickey says – she's obviously been giving him crap about it. Mickey's not a loyal and dutiful husband, anyone who's taken one look at him gets that. It's a thing Mickey himself seems to forget, though. She's seen him passing weed back and forth with Svetlana, could hear them arguing once about what the colour of the baby room should be. (But Mickey, being Mickey, refuses to even touch a paintbrush. And Svetlana won't either, claiming the fumes would be bad for the baby.)

"You gonna stop being angry anytime soon?" she asks, finally, dragging her legs underneath her.

"'M not angry, just..." He leans his head backwards on the couch, in a rare moment of honesty.

"Being a huge dickwad to everyone who comes close enough?" she fills in.

"Fuck off," he says, but grins anyway. "You seen where Svetlana went?"

Mandy shrugs. "She's probably asleep in your room." Mickey struggles getting himself off the couch. "Hey, how'd you manage to knock her up, anyway?"

He stares at her for a moment, his hand on the armrest steadying. "I..." He looks confused, momentarily. "I don't know? Man, I must've been really drunk." Mandy shakes her head when he turns his back to her. Drunk, of course. As if she's ever seen her brother with a woman – besides his wife, that is, and she hasn't once heard them going at it.

He disappears out of the living room, and behind her she hears his door shut, quietly tonight. Ian's coming home tomorrow, and Mickey has no idea who she even means when she mentions her best friend's name. If she ever wants to see her brother happy – or as close to happy as Milkoviches can get – Mandy figures she'll have to take matters into her own hands.