A/N: I'm so fucking sorry I've left you guys hanging. I feel really bad about it, but life has been so hard to handle lately and I couldn't keep up I've been doing pharmacy tech training, drudging through endless piles of homework (Why did I decide to take Anatomy and Physiology, again?), and working retail. I've been swamped--but thankfully mostly mentally sound!

In other news, I have actually worked in the pharmacy once for training! Your girl's making moves and is working on getting her life back together

It's also spring break for me, so I'm going to spend it going to work and catching up on fics and classes. I do online classes right now, so it's not exactly going to be a whole lot different--just no more new work for the week. Hopefully I'm able to get everything done! I'm so worried about failing, guys.

Finally (I swear that I'll shut up soon!) if I can't update a fic, I'll go back to the last published chapter and edit the A/N so you guys know what's going on!

Okay, onto the story! Enjoy and I hope you guys have a great week!

The man at the door was heavyset and sweaty. His face was a little red, like he'd been bustling around, trying to get to everyone who wasn't doing well. Around his neck he had a lanyard with a photo ID hanging off the end. He was grasping a clipboard like it was a lifeline. "Mr. Gallagher?"

Mickey rose his hand and bit his lip. Ian looked too dazed to do anything, so his boyfriend took over. "Right here. He's Ian Gallagher."

The social worker looked Mickey over, taking in his messy hair and clothes as well as his tattooed fingers. "And what relation are you to the patient?"

"B--husband," he said quickly.

The social worker nodded and scribbled on his clipboard. "Okay. Mr. Gallagher, can you talk to me? Tell me what's going on?"

Ian stopped, as if considering, and then shook his head.

"What's going on? Can you tell me what's happening? Why you did this?"

Again, Ian shook his head.

The social worker looked up at Mickey. "Any ideas?"

Mickey bit his lip, not too keen on retelling the story that he had told the oldest Gallagher boy earlier in the day. However, this man was a professional and he could probably help Ian more than anyone at this point. Therefore, he took a deep breath in and slowly let it out before starting.

"We, um, we got into a fight last night about him... about his job. He works at a nightclub and I don't think that he deserves to be treated the way that he is there. When he worked there before, he was incredibly manic, running on basically no sleep. Yesterday, he left for work and when he came home this morning he had a large bruise on his a-- on his butt and a hickey on his neck and I told him to get out of my house and go back to live with his family," Mickey took a breath in and out a couple of times, burying his face in his hands before lifting it again to continue. He face was red and blotchy. "I think he m-might have been manic again, and-and-and I didn't notice. That's as good as me doin' this to him!"

The social worker's face fell and he looked sympathetic to their plight. "Okay. It's okay, sir. This is something that can go unnoticed--especially when patients are in the manic phase. I think that you are probably someone of great comfort to him. However, considering that he hurt himself quite badly, we are going to admit him to the psychiatric ward for 72 hour holding. I'll go get a bag for his things and you two can say your goodbyes."

When he left for the bag, Mickey and Ian were left in absolute silence. The former didn't know what to say and felt words trying to crawl up his throat only to slide back down. Finally, he said, "Ian, I love you so, so much."

Mickey had wanted to say how incredibly sorry he was for everything that was going wrong, as well as his boyfriend being in this place. However, something deep down told him that this was a bad idea. It would most likely only make the two of them feel worse.

Ian looked groggy and a little distant, but he managed to reply, "I love you, too, Mick."

Mickey let out a loud sob despite the fact that he was trying desperately to hold it in. Being mindful of his boyfriend's arms, he embraced him tightly, rubbing his hands up and down the other man's back.

Ian began to cry, too. Mickey could feel him shaking against his chest.

All of a sudden, Ian choked out four broken words. "Please don't leave me."

Mickey's grip on the other man tightened and he shut his eyes tightly. His heart was breaking and he never wanted his boyfriend feel like he wasn't staying around for good. "I'm not gonna leave you, Red. I'm not gonna leave you."

Ian buried his head in Mickey's shoulder. "But you're leaving me here," he sobbed. "If you're leaving me here, who's to say that you won't leave me other places, too?"

Mickey rubbed his lover's back, biting his lip. "I wont, Ian. I won't. They're gonna help you here. Gonna get you back on track. You just gotta wait it out and everything will feel better and you'll get to be back home. Okay? God, I love you so fuckin' much. I'm going to be there every single day during visiting hours and we can talk and maybe do puzzles o-or somethin'? And look, this hospital looks so much nicer than the last one. I bet where you're headed is going to be, too. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. I'm just not."

Ian merely nodded, either unable to find the words or crying too hard to get them out. Maybe both.

Another knock at the door startled them both, but Mickey refused to let his boyfriend go. The social worker was standing just a few feet into the room with a plastic bag akin to the ones that Sheila would make them use. "I've brought this. Are you ready, Mr. Gallagher?"

Ian made a whimpery noise and tried to push himself closer to Mickey. The latter kissed his boyfriend's head, whispering, "It's okay. You can call me and I'll come at visiting hours and everything will be okay. They're going to take good care of you, and if they don't, you tell me, yeah? I'll come here and make sure that they aren't mean to you again."

The redhead nodded after a moment before letting his boyfriend up to gather his things. Once the thuggish man had gathered up and placed all of Ian's belongings in the bag, a nurse bustled in and carefully helped Ian into a wheelchair.

It felt like someone was squeezed Mickey's chest between two brick walls when he saw his lover like that. Ian looked helpless and too-small in that thing. Still, the nurse seemed adamant that they had to transport him this way, so Mickey did little to object. Instead, he followed them out into the hall and down towards the doors. He was going to go as far as they would let him.

Subsequently, that wasn't very far. When they stepped out into a different lobby than before, someone told him that he was not able to continue. Here, he turned to kiss Ian's forehead and crouched so that he was eye-level with the other man.

"I love you, Red. I really, really do. I'm not leaving you, you're just gettin' some extra help from someone who knows more than me. Okay?"

Ian nodded. "I love you, too," he said, voice raw.

Another kiss on the forehead later, Ian was wheeled into an elevator on the other side of the lobby.