Chapter Seven: It's Final
His siblings had camped out in his spare bedroom that night, had gone to eat a very frowny and quiet breakfast at a Starbucks around the corner. And now, Lip and Debbie were sitting in Ian's living room while he packed two suitcases full of clothes and other necessities. His cat weaved around his ankles. The only sound in his ears, besides the soft purring, was the sound of the suitcase zippers.
"How long are you back for?" Lip asked, his voice booming in the quiet.
"Supposed to be four months," Ian called back, pressing hard on the smaller suitcase so that the zipper would go. He received no response, and assumed that Lip was satisfied with the answer. Bending down, Ian picked up his pet. The cat's purr was erratic and probably louder than most. Its nose was dripping wet for some reason when it purred. Holding the cat against his chest, Ian looked toward his open bedroom door and asked who he would be staying with, or should he plan on a lengthy hotel stay.
"I'd say you could stay with Amy and me, but Sely's having her foreign exchange friends over for the next month. I'd imagine Jimmy could use company while Debs is at school," Lip called.
"Does he mind cats?" Ian asked, sitting the nuisance on his unmade bed.
"Probably not."
Wordlessly, Ian pulled the pet carrier from his closet and wrangled the cat inside.
When everything was ready, Ian feeling as if he was forgetting something but knowing he always did that, the redhead walked out and sat his things in front of the door. He then turned called out that they were going to miss the flight if they weren't quick about this. "The Metro is especially busy around this hour," Ian said.
His brother and sister stood and stretched.
"You're the one who took forever," Lip smirked. "You're more of a girl than Debs, here," he finished, patting his sister's shoulder.
Blushing a little, Ian shook his head fast and turned around, bending to collect his things once more. "Yeah, well, I dunno how long I'll be staying," he mumbled, "so I packed a lot."
And on his way to standing, Ian was nearly thrown back by the opening door. He huffed out a startled bark at first, heard Debbie gasp, then glared at the blonde now standing before him.
Behind him, Lip ushered Debbie into the spare room. His oldest brother had the sense to give him space, sometimes. Ian had spilled his guts last night. And Lip, having been one of the only family members of his to actually have met Tate, had recognized the growing situation at hand probably before it even registered in Ian's mind. Ian stood there staring at Tate, and scowled. He put down his bags and stepped aside so that the other man could enter.
Tate looked confused, glancing at the bags, and must have taken to the wrong idea, because he crossed his arms and laughed hatefully.
"That's just like you Ian," Tate began, "It's as if you haven't wanted us to make if from the start. You're a self-fulfilling prophesy! Walking, talking, contradiction!" Before Ian could jump all over him with anger, Tate pushed further. "Well leave, but know that you do are not welcome back into this life," he said, pointing to himself. "I've had it up to my brows with your constant leaving. Deployment and then straight to Chicago! You're piratically here for only a month before you leave again!" He shook and pointed at the door, ever dramatic. "And it's every time. Just go!"
And Ian didn't know why, but he burst into a laughter he hadn't thought he was capable of. "Fuck you, Tate" he said, wiping at his watering eyes. "This isn't even about you. Few things are."
Tate's face, a mixture of anger and loss, finally melted back into a state of confusion.
Ian wetted his lips and smiled at Tate. Very reminiscent of a bright and sunny horror movie. "Fiona's in the hospital," he said, "she might be dying."
Taken aback, and obviously feeling ashamed, Tate put his hands on his hips and looked down. "Oh," he barely said. "What's—"
"Don't pretend to suddenly care," Ian snapped. He could feel himself slipping. Why the fuck was he so fragile, he screamed inwardly. He wasn't supposed to feel vulnerable anymore.
"Ian," Tate cleared his throat, his voice wet and cracked, "I had no idea. I'm sorry."
Rolling his eyes, Ian crossed his arms and stared past Tate, locking his vision onto the door. He sucked in a deep breath. He held it. There was a long silence before Tate reached out and grabbed Ian's wrist. Finally, the soldier looked at him, eyes swollen from unwanted tears. "Let go of me," Ian hissed.
"Please, let," Tate paused as Ian ripped free, ". . .let me make all of this up to you," he finally said.
Ian rubbed at his wrist. "I don't even know if I still want you to," he said dryly.
And Tate sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, saying, "At least let me try."
Six hours later, Ian was walking out of the Chicago airport with his siblings, and for the first time in the three years that they were together, with Tate as well. When they arrived at Fiona and Jimmy's basement apartment in a slightly better side of the Chicago Ian had grown up in, the first thing he did was give his brother-in-law a quick side hug and ask how his sister was.
"About the same," Jimmy sighed and sat back in his recliner. "Except now she's saying that she's made her peace," he bit out.
Tate sat their bags down near the entrance and stood back from the gathering pieces of Ian's family, uncomfortable, listening.
Ian sat beside of Debbie on the love seat and Lip sat on the arm of the sofa. The living room was compact and dimly lit. Various books and scribbled on notepads littered the coffee table, and a light was on in the hallway. Running water could be heard coming from the bathroom.
"When did Liam get back?" Debbie asked, sitting on her hands and rocking a little.
Jimmy sniffed and looked down the at the book bag by his feet. "He came in a few hours after you two left," he said. As if a second thought, he quickly added, "Monica didn't stick around, though."
At the mention of their mother's name, the three siblings squirmed. The water cut off. Ian was the first to break the silence when he called for Tate to stop being a stranger. Although, technically, Tate was almost a complete stranger to Ian's family. Tate sat on the Sofa, far side of Lip. Ian introduced him to Jimmy, who nodded and reached across the coffee table to shake Tate's hand. And although everyone, even Tate, spoke for a few moments about Ian's staying with Jimmy, the cat, and Jimmy not knowing which room they would sleep in, given that Liam was back now, Jimmy seemed understandably elsewhere. Finally the bathroom door opened and steam wafted out. Ian turned his head and watched as his youngest sibling dried his head with a towel, tugged down a navy blue t-shirt over his nappy head, and tossed the towel back into the bathroom before turning out the light. The six year old stood at the edge of the hallway, making his way toward them. He big brown eyes met with Ian's and he grinned widely, gunning for the back of the loveseat. Liam hopped the back and accidentally jabbed Ian in the gut, making Ian grunt and Debbie fuss. But Ian laughed and hugged Liam. "Missed you this summer," Ian commented.
Liam chewed at the corner of his upper lip. It was habit he had developed recently. His childlike tsk and light laugh actually brought a faint smirk to Jimmy's sullen face. "Yeah," Laim said. "Think we were in Ohio."
Wanting to ask what his mother was doing in Ohio, but holding back because he didn't really want to care, Ian knuckled his brother's head and told him that he was glad he could see him. Liam yelped in mock pain and shoved away from Ian's grasp. He made himself comfortable between the two red-haired siblings and kicked his short legs. Then, just noticing that there was someone he didn't know in the room, Liam, with childish lack of tack, asked who Tate was. Somewhat rudely. A trait he had probably inherited from Frank. As he had grown, Liam was surprisingly the most like their father in personality. Some of his behavior, Ian knew, was from constantly being kidnapped and then abandoned by their Monica. Liam had simply inherited more of Frank's mommy issues than the rest of the Gallagher clan.
Tate blinked at Liam and pulled his hands into the pockets of his tan pants. He leaned forward a little. "I'm Tate," he introduced himself voice friendly, "and you must be Liam."
"Hi," Liam said, indifferent. Ian sensed Liam's lack of understanding, but before he could clarify, the first grader said, "Why are you here, Tate?"
Tate laughed, awkwardly, "I'm a friend of Ian's."
And realization flashed across Liam's face. Fiona must have ranted in front of Liam about Ian and Tate at some point, Ian thought briefly. She had only ever spoken to his three year in boyfriend over the phone, but it was obvious how Fiona felt about Tate since she never hid it when Ian visited without his boyfriend.
"I think we should get to the hospital," Lip said, as if he hadn't been paying attention to any of the conversation.
Liam's short attention span turned to Lip and the child hopped down from the sofa, pulling up at his jeans. He ran to the coat rack near the door and quickly put on his puffy black coat. He did all of this in what seemed a single movement, and before any of the others were off of their seats.
Their drive to the hospital had been almost as silent as the initial welcome to Jimmy and Fiona's place. Ian sat up front with Jimmy, unconsciously distancing himself from Tate, who sat in the back, squished between Liam, Debbie, and Lip. Jimmy let them off in front of the entrance, then went to park his blue Jetta. Lip commented that Jimmy liked to be alone more often than not, since Fiona's admission. Which was very not Jimmy, but Ian understood.
Walking into her room was both a relief to see her and a deep sadness. Ian knew before he even opened his mouth, not even waiting for the air to clear, that Fiona was not going to let anyone end her pregnancy. That didn't stop him from trying for the next hour and a half. But she never relented. Her decision, she said, was final.
The visit was a constant sea of Gallaghers in and out of Fiona's room. Jimmy was the only one to remain in the chair beside of Fiona's bed from the time he arrived. Never left once, not even to follow Ian, Carl, and Lip to the cafeteria. Debbie was almost as much a constant as Jimmy, but left to take Liam to an Ihop when he began complaining. Tate mostly stuck as close to the door as possible, saying very little after his initial introduction to Fiona. She didn't want him there, and her glares made that obvious. Finally, he said he wasn't feeling well, and went for walk.
In the cafeteria, really just playing with his food, Carl practically threw down his fork. He scowled and rubbed both palms against his shaved head. The stubble there made a scratching sound. His brother's stared at him. There were all three seated at a round table in the furthest angle of the cafeteria. Near a window with the shade drawn. It was fast, violent, and loud. Carl blew heavily between his teeth, making his lips balloon out. He let go of his head, growling, banged his elbows down on the table three times. His plastic glass of soda spilled down the front of his class hoodie. He still wore it, even though he had dropped out around Thanksgiving. He would be graduating this year, if not for that. Among other complications.
"Shit, Carl!" Lip said and steadied the table.
Ian grabbed hold of Carl's sleeve and yanked him into a state of calm.
Most people were looking at the trio strangely, but too afraid to say anything simply because of the terrifying look on Carl's face.
"I can't believe this," Carl said and jerked his arm away from Ian. He leaned back in his chair, ignoring the giant wet spot on his stomach. His voice had grown exceptionally deep and cigarettes had not been kind to him.
"I don't think any of us want to," Ian said, sighing and propping his face up.
Lip stared out of a crack in the shutter, crossed his arms over his chest.
Carl hiccupped a pessimistic laugh.
Ian decided that he wanted a change of subject. It had been almost a year since he'd seen any of his family, and this was entirely too depressing. So he asked Carl how his probation was going.
