A/N: I quoted a movie in this chapter. See if you can locate place it.

Chapter Twenty-five: About-Face

He hadn't taken the bus. Ian knew Mickey hadn't taken the bus because his brooding ex had been in the waiting room until eight thirty and the station closed early, at eight, because it was Memorial Day. So unless he had high jacked a bus and taken off in it, Mickey was either upstairs with Mandy or hanging around somewhere in downtown Chicago. Ian flipped his phone around in his hands, frowning, thinking.

After Mickey left, Ian had regrouped with his family. He now sat beside of Frank because Debbie had insisted on going to get him. Fiona was now in recovery; they could see her in an hour. For the time being, Jimmy was with the newborn baby in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. They had all gone to see the baby. A baby with sandy hair and so frail looking that the sight of her had made everyone cry, even Carl. They all knew that baby wouldn't make it. So Ian sat beside of Frank, who smelled of stale urine, thick smoke, and booze. He sat there and counted the tiles on the floor, still playing with his phone. Lip sat across from them, Liam asleep on his lap. Debbie was outside with Carl, having a smoke from the pack Carl stole off a stranger earlier. Ian could see Lip watching him when he looked up through his lashes for a second. Frank dozed off beside of Ian. Finally, Ian exhaled loudly and rubbed at his head, sitting up properly. He stared back at his brother, and watched as Lip glanced at Frank, shaking his head.

"You ever wonder," Lip began, voice low so as not to wake Liam, "what would have happened if it had been Frank who ran off?"

Ian scoffed. "We'd all be dead by now," he said. "Monica would probably have blown the house up at some point while we all slept."

Lip's face remained blank. "Or shot us all in our sleep because she was off her medication," he added. "Guess Frank isn't so bad."

Ian looked over at his father and a small smirk touched his lips. "Nah," Ian said, "he's pretty awful."

Lip laughed and tried to scratch his eye. There was a long stretch of silence. Debbie and Carl came back in, only to leave again to fetch food. Lip placed Liam comfortably in the seat beside of him and wrapped the child up in Ian's discarded, thin jacket. Once he had made himself comfortable again, he motioned to Ian's phone, grabbing the redhead's attention. "You gonna call him back?" Lip asked, watching Ian's every move. "From another phone, of course," Lip added.

Ian stared down at his phone. "No," he said, shaking his head.

Lip nodded, asking, "You okay?"

Ian sighed and looked into Lip's face for a minute. Debated on lying. But he couldn't because, out of every sibling he had, Lip had always been the one who knew Ian best. So if Ian were to lie, Lip would just get the truth out of him anyway. Ian shook his head, answering a silent no. He didn't open his mouth because he was afraid to speak.

"I don't agree with either of them, you know," Lip said. "But I was kind of glad when Mickey broke your phone."

Ian looked back down at the phone in his hand. It was just a cheap, prepaid phone. He had never seen a need for anything fancy. Although now Ian wished that he had purchased the insurance on this one. He hoped he could somehow get his information off of it. Lip would probably figure a way. Ian studied the cracked screen and drifted into his thoughts.

The phone rang while Mickey went out for a smoke. Ian answered it and had immediately wished he didn't. For one because Lip was following Mickey outside, which meant Mickey would probably beat the shit out of his brother and bounce. For two because the person calling him was Tate.

Of course the phone call was to bitch at Ian, tell him to meet Tate at the airport. That this was Ian's last chance, so far as Tate was concerned. The ass hadn't even been aware of what was going on with Fiona. Of course not. He had stormed off. Ian had figured Tate was already on his way back to California. Apparently not.

Still arguing on the phone, Ian had not hidden his surprise when both Mickey and Lip walked back into the waiting room in one piece. Had actually seemed civil. Even though Mickey was still staring at Lip's back with a small bit of hatred.

He turned away from the two as they walked in his direction. Cupped a hand over his ear and continued to scowl into the phone, defending himself against Tate's ignorant tongue. Lip had been the one to approach him while Mickey just sat down and looked deep in thought.

Ian shook his thoughts. He looked over to Lip, who was yawning. "You and Mickey," Ian started, tucking the phone into his pocket, "did you work out your problem, whatever it was?"

"I guess," Lip said through his yawn. "I'm not dead, so. . ."

Ian sighed again and worried his lip. His head was foggy and he couldn't keep his train of thought. Tate. Sometimes Ian thought he had really fucked himself over by screwing Tate two years back.

"Just stop. Are you even aware of what's going on here? My sister's heart gave out! She's in surgery!"

Ian shake the look of Mickey's face as he had eavesdropped on Ian's conversation while Lip barked at Tate, trying to snatch Ian's phone. He wondered what must have been going through Mickey's head. It was getting harder to tell lately. Really, it was like Ian didn't know him at all. And he guessed that was reasonable, seeing as he and Mickey were living such different lives now. Had both matured into two very different people, molded by their surroundings and lifestyles.

Lip's sudden chuckle grabbed Ian's attention again. Ian looked at him, confused. Silently, cocking a brow and twisted his neck, he asked Lip to elaborate.

"I was just thinking," Lip said. "About what Mickey said to Tate. I sure wasn't expecting that."

Ian smirked and touched the phone through his jeans. He knew he should probably have been angry at Mickey for having stuck his nose in where it didn't belong. Yet he wasn't because never in his life would Ian have expected Mickey Milkovich to take up for him. And having judged the look on Mickey's face as he had finished his verbal assault earlier, Ian guess Mickey hadn't expected his own actions either. Had probably proceeded before putting thought behind any of it.

"The next word that comes out of your mouth better be some brilliant fucking Mark Twain shit. Because it's definitely getting chiseled on your tombstone."

Ian could still hear the gasps of innocent bystanders ringing in his ears, as well as the crash of his phone against the linoleum. Mickey had looked so torn when he picked up the broken piece of machinery and trust it back at Ian, telling the redhead to grow a pair. Ian allowed himself a moment to think of what Mickey's actions said. Total opposite of how Mickey had behaved after snatching Ian's phone away and breaking it. But that's what Mickey always did. Why did Mickey have to be so complicated? How the hell did the guy really feel? Mickey reminded Ian so much of Monica that it was quite frightening. Ian wondered if it was true that a man always falls in love with someone who reminds him of his mother in some way. Ian fidgeted in frustration. He messed with the small hole on the knee of his jeans, worrying it until it grew slightly larger. He guessed that it must be true. After all, every woman that Lip ended up with turned out to be a slut. Even Mandy. Although Ian actually liked her. And every guy that Ian fucked was moody and lacked any real self-confidence and responsibility when it came to things that mattered. Every one of them had harsh tongues and no sense of tact.

"What did you say to him? What started this?" Ian suddenly asked, staring hard at his brother.

Lip knitted his brow before realizing what Ian was talking about. He scratched his head and looked at Frank's feet. "I uh," he cleared his throat, "called him a faggat in front of Kevin and a few people at the bar."

Ian's eyes bulged. He blinked away his shock, getting his composer back. "Are you suicidal?" Ian flared.

Lip smiled and shrugged. "Guess I wanted to get a reaction out of him," he said.

They left it at that. Because Lip obviously had gotten a reaction out of Mickey. Ian just wasn't sure how to decipher it yet. On the one hand, Mickey had tried to skip town. On the other, he had forgone that, at least temporarily, and was acting as if nothing had happened. Sort of. Had done a total about-face. So far as Ian could tell, anyway. He wondered what tomorrow would bring.