I don't own Shameless.
Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 12
Lip was standing in the hallway arguing quietly with Tony when he got off the elevator. The teen kept pointing his finger in the cops face and then swinging his hand to point into Ian's room.
"You're not fucking going in there and telling him, you hear me? He's barely holding it together as it is. Just leave, Tony!"
"Lip, he has a right to know…" Tony trailed off, taking a step back when Lip shoved him.
"Don't you think he's already fucked up as it is? Telling him that fucker got off this easy isn't going to make things any better." Lip was panting heavily, his eyes wide.
"Whoa, what's going on? Mickey asked, reaching out and grabbing Lip's shoulder, pulling him away from the cop. Lip tore his arm away glaring. Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Alex Conkle committed suicide last night," he said quietly, glancing at Ian's door. "Hung himself using his bed sheet. Apparently you were right, he was far too pretty for prison."
"Fuck," Mickey said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What about Brett?"
"He may have been the dumber of the two, but he's apparently tougher. Has his own little gang on the inside; wasn't enough to save his brother though," Tony said, his eyes watching Lip who was pacing. Mickey sighed again, closing his eyes.
"I'll tell him," the ex-con whispered, looking up to meet Lip and Tony's eyes.
"What?" Tony asked, his eyes wide.
"Just go, Tony. I'll tell him. Might go over a little better than you telling him or Lip flipping out on him. I've got it. I know how he works." The two other men shared a glance before nodding, Lip rubbing at his eyes.
"Tell him I'll be back tomorrow. I can't stay here right now," Lip mumbled, glancing at Ian's room again.
"Dude, I've got it. Just go." Mickey leaned up against the wall, watching the two men walk away. He closed his eyes and counted slowly to five before pushing away from the wall.
Ian was asleep when he walked inside, but Mickey could tell his was fitful. His eyes were squeezed shut, his right hand folded into a tight fist. The red heads mouth murmured words that Mickey couldn't quite pick up. The older was sure that if it wasn't for the halo, Ian would be moving his head away from the dream that had seemed to catch him. Mickey bit his lip, crossing the room the perch on the edge of Ian's bed.
"E?" he said quietly, reaching out to grab Ian's hand. Ian whimpered, squeezing Mickey's hand tightly. "Ian? Come on, E, wake up." Ian moaned, his eyes slowly blinking open. Mickey grinned, realizing it probably looked more like a grimace than anything. Ian's blue-green eyes were filled with tears as he looked around.
"Mick?" He mumbled, shaking his hand lose to wipe at the fat tear drops rolling down his face.
"You okay?" Mickey asked quietly, taking Ian's hand back and squeezing it. Ian tried to give him a small smile, but they both knew it was fake.
"Just a bad dream," He mumbled, letting his eyes drop.
"Want to talk about it?" Mickey asked, frowning when the halo kept Ian from shaking his head, making him groan.
"No, I'm fine," Ian mumbled. "Did I hear yelling a little bit ago?" he asked, squinting at Mickey. Mickey bit his lip squeezing Ian's hand.
"You have to promise me that you won't get upset," Mickey said quietly, wincing when he realized that wasn't going to help him at all.
"What's going on?" Ian asked, his voice growing loader. Mickey held his index finger to his lips, whispering for Ian to 'shh.'
"Tony…Tony was here. Alex Conkle committed suicide in prison last night. He hung himself using his bed sheet." Mickey kept his eyes trained on Ian's face, watching the range of emotions. First there was a blank look, then his eyes grew wide, followed by anger, then fat tears were quickly falling down his face.
"This is my fault," he whispers, his eyes still wide. Mickey groaned, shaking his head.
"No it's not, Ian, he whispered, kissing the teens pale forehead.
"He killed himself because he was in there because of me. I'm the reason he killed himself." Ian took a deep breath, the sob escaping him before he could stop it.
"Hey, hey, stop that," Mickey said under his breath. "This isn't your fault, Ian. He was in there because he tried to kill you. That's why he was in there. That wasn't your fault; it was the least he deserved. And some guys aren't made to be in a place like prison. Fuck, I never want to go anywhere that isn't juvie. But this wasn't your fault, you got me? This wasn't your fault, Ian. None of this was your fault." Ian looked up at Mickey, his eyes filled with tears.
"Brett?" Ian asked, his voice quiet. Mickey let out a snort; this boy was too sensitive for his own good.
"Brett's fine. Apparently he's the head of his own gang on the inside and is some big hard ass. He was always such an idiot on the outside, but apparently you don't need brains to be on top in there. Just a bunch of muscles. And apparently the twins weren't as close as they appeared. Alex was too pretty for his own good. You know what that means…" Ian bit his lip, letting his eyes lower.
"So it's almost like he didn't get any punishment at all," Ian whispered, staring at his hands.
"Well, unless you count being some prison bitch or committing suicide in prison…." Mickey mumbled back, lifting an eyebrow. "But no, that doesn't seem like enough for fucking you up like this."
"I'm learning how to walk again. I'll be better soon," Ian said in his defense. Mickey gave him a small smile.
"You walking isn't what I'm worried about, E. But we'll get there."
.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
Mickey curled in the chair next to Ian's bed, his eyes falling shut. He was exhausted, and spending half the night comforting Ian's frequent mood swings hadn't helped anything. Ian had finally drifted off about a half an hour previous and Mickey was finally falling asleep too.
Ian's eyes flew open, flicking around the quiet, dark room. He was restless, and he wasn't sure he could sit in the bed any longer. He vaguely remembered Lexie telling him that he had to have help if he was going to get out of bed and walk around. Ian let his eyes fall on Mickey and sighed. The ex-con spent every night with Ian at the hospital, and he was sure he hadn't slept in a real bed in months. Ian didn't have the heart to wake him up. Instead, he followed the steps Lexie had taught him to sit up. It took a lot out of him and he leaned on his thighs, breathing hard.
Ian reached out with a shaky hand, grabbing the walker that had been left by his bed. With a deep breath, he pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. Ian kept his left hand wrapped as tightly as he could around the walker (which really wasn't that tight considering the cast that was keeping his healing, shattered hand still), and wrapped the other hand around the Iv pole. With a deep breath, his posture straight, Ian took a step. He let out a shaky laugh as he took another small step. He was doing it; he was walking by himself. He went to take another breath when his knee, the right one that had suffered the most injury, collapsed underneath him. Ian cried out as he fell hard to the ground.
The pain the shot up his spine felt like a vice grip had taken hold of him and vision swam in front of him. He moaned, in too much pain to move. Ian clinched his eyes shot, panting and trying to catch his breath. He was vaguely aware of Mickey saying his name as he blacked out.
.*.*.*.*.*.*.
Although it wasn't a bed, Mickey was pretty sure that this chair was the most comfortable chair he'd ever slept in his life. He was so exhausted but he couldn't bring himself to leave Ian by himself. Mickey was out, so glad he could finally sleep. He had just twisted onto his other side when he heard a loud thump and a moan. His eyes flew open, looking around wildly.
"Ian?" he called, his eyes landing on the empty bed. He untangled his limbs and rose to his feet quickly. "Ian?" He asked again, rounding the bed and freezing.
Ian lay on his stomach on the ground, the halo keeping him face down. The IV stand had fallen on top of him, laying across his back. He was moaning, his breath hitching.
"Shit," Mickey exclaimed, pressing the call button on the bed as he crouched next to Ian. "It's okay. You're okay," he mumbled, waiting for the nurse to answer.
"Can I help you?" Melissa's voice came across.
"We need help in here!" Mickey yelled, rubbing Ian's back carefully. "Please, Ian fell." Although the nurse's station was just across the hall, it normally took a good ten minutes before anyone answered Ian's calls. Tonight, however, Melissa came bounding into the room, yelling over her shoulder for more help. Mickey pushed himself against the wall, watching hopelessly as multiple nurses carefully rolled Ian back onto his back. He breathing was still coming in gasped but Mickey could tell he was unconscious.
"Go get a gurney," Melissa mumbled to an orderly. "We're going to have to take him down for some scans. Someone stitch up this cut," she gestured at the blood pouring from Ian's forehead. "And someone contact Dr. Johnson. See what he wants to do from here."
The medical staff quickly left Ian's room, pushing the frail teen on a gurney with another orderly pushing his IV stand next to him. Mickey let out a shaky breath, looking up to meet Melissa's eyes.
"I fell asleep…" he mumbled. He slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands. "I fell asleep. He didn't even try to wake me up." Melissa side, crouching down in front of Mickey.
"Hey, it's going to be okay. We're just making sure he didn't hurt himself when he fell. But I'm sure he's okay. This isn't your fault, Mickey. Everyone has to sleep sometime." Mickey let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Think you can call his family? I'll try to keep you posted as much as I can, okay? Mickey nodded, adverting his eyes. Melissa gave him a small smile and climbed back to her feet and quickly left the room.
Mickey let out a sigh and climbed to his feet, He perched on the edge of Ian's bed and pulled his cell phone out of his pocked. It rang a few times before a tired Lip answered.
"Mickey? What's wrong?" he asked, and Mickey could hear him yawning.
"I…I fell asleep, and Ian was apparently trying to walk by himself and he fell. They don't know if he's hurt himself more, but he passed out and they took him for some x-rays and stuff. I don't know what's going on, but I think you should come here." Lip let out a deep breath, and Mickey could even see him pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I'll wake Fi up. One of use will be there soon." With that Lip hung up, causing Mickey to flinch in guilt.
.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.
"Where is he?" Fiona asked, her eyes wide as she entered Ian's room. Mickey flinched, almost wishing that it had been Lip here, threatening to punch him in the face. He cleared his throat, looking up at the scared Gallagher.
"They took him to get x-rays. They haven't brought him back yet," Mickey whispered, looking down at his hands. Fiona nodded, perching on the edge of an open chair.
"What happened, Mickey?" she asked quietly, reaching out and taking his hands that he had been ringing. He let out a shaky breath, still not looking up.
"I fell asleep," he started, trailing off. "I fell asleep, and he must have woke up and wanted to get up. He made it a couple steps it looked like, but then he fell. I woke up when he fell, but he'd already passed out. I called the nurse and they took him somewhere. She said she'd tell me what's going on, but no one's said anything. I don't…I don't know what's going on." Fiona gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand.
"I'm sure everything is going to be okay, Mickey," she whispered. He let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Mickey? What were you doing here so late?" Mickey froze, looking up with wide eyes.
"I….Ian and I…Ian's my boyfriend," he mumbled.
"I kind of figured. It's okay, Mickey," she whispered, giving him a small smile.
"I should have been there that night," he whispered, looking up at her with wet eyes.
"We don't blame you, Mickey. You've been here with him every step of the way since, and I'm sure you're going to help him with the rest of this. It's okay. We like you. We want you around." Fiona squeezed his hand, pulling him into a hug. "It's going to be okay."
The two sat for hours together, waiting for the nurse to finally bring back a sleeping Ian; new stiches in his forehead and his halo tightened. Melissa whispered something to Fiona about there being a little bit of damage to his spine and the halo needing to stay on a bit longer. Fiona smiled and thanked her as Mickey climbed to his feet and took Ian's hand.
"Don't scare me like that, ever again, you hear me Firecrotch," he mumbled to the sleeping figure. "Never again."
.*.*.*.*.
AN: I hope you liked it! I'm so sorry it's been so long! School got crazy. But it's summer now, so I should update more! Please review!