Chapter Thirteen

Sheila and Ian were laughing and making breakfast like they used to when Ian first moved in with Sheila. Little Liam sat at the table eating pancakes. The site was bizarre. Mickey knew it wouldn't last, because it was their last day in Sheila's home. Fiona would be coming any moment to bring Ian home, and Mickey could not be more thrilled.

Ian placed a plate of banana pancakes in front of Mickey and kissed his cheek. Sheila and Ian made a joke about bananas that seemed to be an in thing between them that went over Mickey's head. Liam laughed, but more because his brother did. Mickey noticed Ian couldn't sit still. He was twitchy and talking a mile a minute about something that Mickey had no idea about. That's when it hit him, he's manic. Fuck.

Mickey caught Sheila's eye. She gave a slight jerk of the head to show that she understood. She patted Ian on the hand. Mickey was curious. Ian's doctor had increased his dosage on medication, so why was Ian manic all of a sudden?

Mickey excused himself and went upstairs. Ian kept his pills on top of the counter in an orange bottle with his name and prescription on it. But inside weren't Ian's regular pills. Mickey had memorized the pills. He knew what they were supposed to look like. Whatever was in this weren't Ian's pills.

Ian's switched his pills. Why the fuck would he do that? Mickey flushed whatever was in the bottle down the toilet and began a frantic search for Ian's real pills which he found mixed in with Karen's old birth control that she never took.

Mickey went downstairs three at a time and nearly fell and broke his neck. He slammed Ian's pills on the table so hard Ian jumped. Ian ignored the pills and started telling Sheila about something, very excitedly with his mouth full of food.

"God fucking dammit, Ian. You're going to fucking listen to me," Mickey said.

"What? Mickey?"

"HOW FUCKING LONG HAVE BEEN WITHOUT YOUR MEDS?"

"What? I take them every day."

"No. You take something every day, but it's not your fucking meds. How long, Ian?"

"A month maybe," Ian said before returning to his story. Sheila and Mickey stared at each other again and Sheila made an excuse to leave the table. Ian shrugged and kept eating and began telling his story to Liam who was so in love with his brother that he hung on to every word. Sheila pointed toward the stairs so they could talk out of earshot of Ian.

"I will call Ian's doctor and ask for another prescription. I'll give you some money to pick it up," Sheila said.

"No, fuck that. I have money. Fiona's going to be here any minute and I don't think Ian would want her to know that he's like this again. Fuck, I can't believe he did this. I can't believe I didn't notice he did this. Fuck. Shit. Fuck."

"Mickey, calm down. It's going to be okay," Sheila said.

"Be completely honest with me, Sheila. I swear if I find out you're fucking lying…did you do this? Did you switch Ian's pills? Be fucking honest."

"No. I didn't know. I thought he had been taking them."

Mickey looked into her eyes. The sincerity was obvious. Sheila would never intentionally hurt Ian. "So he did it himself. Fuck." Mickey wanted to kick something. But when Ian slapped Liam and Liam started to cry, Mickey began to panic.

"Honey," Sheila said to Liam.

"He…" Ian couldn't get his words out. He dropped to his knees and pulled Liam into him. Liam instantly forgave him, but Mickey could see it in Ian's face. He lost control. Mickey rubbed Ian's red hair in concentric circles hoping it would make him feel better, it didn't. "I am so sorry, Liam."

"You don't love me anymore."

"Of course I do," Ian said with his voice choked.

Mood swings. Fuck. Fiona had chosen that moment to walk in. Everyone was on the floor gathered around Liam. Obviously, it would not be the scene to walk in on and Mickey immediately understood her reaction.

"What the fuck?"

"I—I," Ian started. He couldn't get the words out. "I hit him." Ian was on his feet. Fiona was furiously screaming at him and shoving him, and Mickey wanted to intervene. Sheila held him back and shook her head wildly.

"Hasn't Liam been through enough?" Fiona said.

"Says the girl who left coke out for him to snort," Ian threw in her face. It was an unwritten rule in the Gallagher house not to bring that up. They were fighting words, Mickey knew.

"Fuck you, Ian. You and Sheila deserve each other."

Fiona grabbed Liam, gave Sheila and Ian the finger and walked out the door. Mickey chased after her. He grabbed her arm and stopped her. She had tears in her eyes.

"Ian threw out his pills. He's been taking something, I'm not sure what yet, but they're not his pills. Sheila's calling to get them filled and then I'm fucking forcing those goddamn things down his throat. Don't give up on him. Let me take care of him. Get him through this. We'll be back at your place at the end of the week."

"We should have sent him to that hospital Monica went to like I wanted, but you said you could do it."

"He's not crazy."

"I never said he was, but that place is for more than crazy people, Mickey. It's for people like Ian too. I want Ian to see his doctor again and I want him to come back home."

"He will, I just…I just want to stabilize him again. Okay. He's been good about this until now."

"Do what you need to do, Mick. I'll give you until the end of the week."

Fiona and Liam left. Sheila came out to tell Mickey about the prescription being called in. Mickey went to pick it up. He needed to step away from Ian before he did something he would regret. The pharmacy was busy. Mickey stood in line for what felt like hours.

"Hi," said the woman with glasses behind the counter.

"Prescription for Ian Gallagher," Mickey said.

"Are you the patient?"

"No, I'm not the fucking patient."

"Are you family?"

"Yeah, I'm his fucking husband; now give me the damn pills."

The woman asked more questions about Ian further infuriating Mickey. He grabbed the pills after she handed them over, paid her and left quickly. Mickey spotted Sheila on his walk. She looked frantic. Mickey rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"Ian's gone again. I turned my back for ten minutes and he left."

"Fuck. Where would he go?"

"I checked the Gallagher house, he wasn't there. I called his work. He's not there, and I'm starting to really worry." Sheila was on the verge of a panic attack. Mickey patted her arm as he frantically called Ian. No answer.

Mickey checked his house. His brothers hadn't seen Ian. Mickey double checked the Gallagher house, but since Frank and Monica were camped out there he couldn't imagine Ian would hang around. Mickey enlisted Carl Gallagher to help.

They split up. Carl gave him a call around five saying he found Ian and Mickey needed to come quick. Ian was passed out in an alley. Lying next to him was an empty baggie and some crumpled up ones.

"Is he dead?" Carl asked.

Mickey squatted down and touched Ian's shoulder. He was warm. Mickey shook him. Ian coughed and rolled over onto his hands and continued to cough. He threw up some pills among other stuff. He crawled into Mickey's arms and sobbed.

"What the fuck happened?" Mickey asked looking at Carl.

"I don't know," Ian coughed. "I don't remember."

Carl helped Mickey stand Ian up. He was so drugged up he couldn't function on his own. It took both of them together to get Ian back to Sheila's. Mickey lay Ian on the couch and allowed Sheila to take care of him.

"I'm going back there," Mickey said.

"To the alley?"

"Yeah, I'm getting some fucking answers. You coming?"

"Definitely," Carl said.

Mickey ran upstairs and rummaged through his shit. He found two of his favorite hand guns and loaded them. He shoved one in the back of his pants and held the other out for Carl. Normally, Mickey would have to be crazy to give Carl a gun, but this was for Ian.

"I'll be back. Take care of him," Mickey told Sheila.

Carl was confident, but he still stayed close to Mickey. Mickey didn't mind. They made their way back to the alley. A few men were shooting up heroin, a couple guys were getting blown by sad desperate twinks, and a young boy not much older than Carl was being forcibly raped. Mickey had his gun ready.

"I thought gay men were nice, like Ian," Carl said.

"Not all of them," said Mickey.

"So what is your plan?" Carl asked.

"Just stay behind me. 'Ey, one of you fucking junkies seen a red head about six feet tall come through here earlier?"

"I did," said a man being blown by a teenager Ian's age. Mickey grabbed the boy off the man's dick. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were entry points on his arm from shooting up heroin. The boy had sores on his skin, a sign of some STD he was infected with. Mickey released the boy and wiped off his hands.

"Go, be free." The boy ran off. "You saw the redhead?"

"Yeah, he came back here looking for coke but a friend of mine took a liking to him, said the boy was prime choice beef. He tried to get the kid to go with him, but he kept refusing so we knocked him out."

"Was Ian raped?" Carl blurted out. Leave it to Carl to be fucking blunt.

"I like this one," the man said winking at Carl.

"Touch me and lose your dick, asshole."

"My buddy and some boys thought they'd have a little fun with the kid," the man continued. Mickey choked him until he passed out then shot him in the leg. He had heard enough.

"You could have asked which one of his friends it was," Carl said.

Mickey couldn't see straight. He couldn't think about anything other than Ian being in that situation. A rage came over him. A throbbing blindness shielded him from seeing reason as he physically assaulted every single man in the alley, leaving the one raping the kid for last.

"You the one asking for the ginger snap? I left him in the back of the alley. He might still be there."

Mickey wanted to kill him, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. This isn't the first time Ian was taken advantage of by old gross men. He had seen several try to get with Ian when he worked at the club.

Mickey took Carl home and went back to Ian. Ian was still sleeping when Mickey got back. Mickey went upstairs, grabbed blankets and pillows off Karen's bed and came back downstairs. He made a spot for himself on the floor beside the couch and was about to lie down when Sheila tapped him on the arm.

"Let Ian stay here. I know you promised Fiona you'd take him home, but he's better here."

"I can't do that."

"Mickey, please. He needs me."

"I don't a fucking shit anymore, Sheila. I know you care about him, but so do I. He could have died today, or worse."

"That's not my fault."

"I know! Jesus."

Mickey spread out on the blanket he laid down. Halfway through the night he heard Ian screaming. It was a loud, deep scream, followed by Ian sitting upright and panting. Mickey sat up immediately and was right by Ian's side. Ian felt around in the dark for Mickey and latched on to him. By this point Sheila had come downstairs in her nightgown.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" Sheila asked touching Ian's head.

"I had a bad dream," Ian said. He was visibly shaken. He pulled his long legs up to this chest and clutched them. He buried his face between his knees and began to quietly sob. Mickey and Sheila fought over who would comfort Ian. Sheila won out. But Mickey rubbed Ian's back and arms while Sheila held him.

"Shh, it's okay, sweet boy," Sheila said pressing Ian against her. She rubbed his head and gave him tiny kisses. She released him to make him a hot beverage. Mickey took his turn holding Ian. Ian nuzzled his head into Mickey's neck and sobbed quietly. Sheila handed Ian a cup of steaming hot tea which he sipped at.

"I'm sorry," Ian apologized.

"Don't," Mickey said.

"I'm so stupid."

"I swear I'll kick your fucking ass if you keep this up."

"I think I want to see my doctor again," Ian said nuzzling deeper into Mickey neck. Mickey welcomed Ian into his arms. He felt right. Mickey loved having Ian between his chin and his shoulder. It was his favorite place for him. He held on tight.

"We'll get you sorted out," Mickey said.

"Please don't leave me," Ian said.

I would never fucking leave you. I'm worried you'll leave me.

"Never."

"Let's get you to your room, sweetie," Sheila said.

Ian shook his head. He wanted to stay where he was. He dropped to the pile of blankets on the floor with Mickey and nonverbally asked Sheila to stay on the couch. He was wrapped securely in Mickey's arms and holding on to Sheila's hand while they lie there trying to go to sleep. Mickey wasn't used to being the big spoon when they cuddled, but this time it was different. He was the one holding Ian.

"As long as we're together, I'll never fucking leave," Mickey whispered in Ian's ear after Ian had fallen asleep.