Fiona sat rigid at the table shifting her eyes back and forth between all the faces she had to feed. One Milkovich had now turned to two and Debbie's incessant questions of why is Mickey here did nothing to help the tension.

"Good eggs Fiona." He forked another mouthful and she nodded absently.

Debbie wiggled in her chair and went to sit up a little straighter. Sometimes he forgot how young she really was but it's those moments that remind him. The few seconds of desperate need to play a role of maturity that puts a bad taste in his mouth and something heavy way down deep in his chest.

"Ian did you take a shower last night?" He went to deny it– always deny, but she just kept going on a mile a minute. "Because you left your wet towel on the floor and it was disgusting. My feet got all wet and gross this morning when I went in there."

Carl smirked over a glass of orange juice. "If you were gonna take a shower why did it matter your feet were wet."

"It's the principle!" Her eyes flared with misplaced rage. "It's the rule."

Ian held up his hands in mock surrender. "Got it sorry. It wont happen again."

The table fell into mindless conversation - about how Carl needed to stop ruining Debbie's dolls about Lip's thoughts on College. Mandy wanted to know what kind of toast it was because she was going on a diet and Mickey was quiet. Fiona was quiet and he was quiet.

Three quiet little statues.

A knock echoed out from the front door and Ian felt his face burn with guilt. Because he wasn't sure what he thought, that he'd have a few days? That they would grab him at work and not home?

"Mickey." Fiona's voice was terse and he leaned into the name because there was an unsaid story hanging on it.

Then, the most shocking thing happened – Mickey listened. His body bunching in sections of tensed muscles and silent obedience as his form disappeared up their stairs. Ian's heart pounded faster and faster with each passing second hammering in the nails of finality that there was something happening. And it didn't matter if it was for him or Mickey because if you take away one half then the whole thing will crumble so his chest heaved with more of a struggle at breath because a death sentence had just been signed.

Lip followed the older Milkovich's escape and slowly turned his head to their older sister. "What's going on?"

Another knock.

"Debbie, Carl –finish your breakfast." Fiona pushed back her chair and went to open the door. Ian practically jumped up to follow because it was true that curiosity killed the cat. He used to think it was a stupid saying, that he would put reason before that creeping need to just know.

But you'll always fall victim to yourself, and it's worse than being a cat. Because cat's always land on their feet.

Tony's face sent a shiver up his body because this was it. They wanted to bring him in – ask questions. Ian we just need to ask you a few questions.

"Hey Fiona." He gave a soft half smile as if this really was the last thing he wanted to be doing. It was too bad that Fiona couldn't trick herself into loving him.

She gripped the door just tightly enough to make the stench of fear begin to take hold. "Hey Tony."

Tony looked around behind her and Ian slunk further back into the corner of the room. "Is Mickey Milkovich here?"

Fiona let out a laugh. "Mickey Milkovich?" Ian wished they would stop saying his name. "You're serious? Why would he be in my house?"

It's a lot like having a gallon of ice water dumped on you – fear. The moments before and after and the relief that is not really relief at all. Your brain forgets how to do stupid things like breath and regulate your body temperature so after that push of adrenaline you're left feeling empty and fragile and more likely to fall apart than if it really had been just as bad as you'd worried it would be.

Ian wanted to look up the stairs to Mickey, to let him know that this fear coursing through his body was for him.

"What about Mandy?" Tony slumped his shoulders seeing that this would be a fight. "Is Mandy here?"

Fiona glanced back to where Mandy now had her head poking out from around the kitchen. "What do you want with her?"

And Ian could hear it in her voice, inherit protectiveness. Fiona was protecting the Milkovich siblings and his head was spinning.

Tony tried a different tactic softening his voice and taking a step closer to his sister. "Hey Fiona I don't want trouble with them I just need to talk."

"Well what about." She wasn't budging.

It shouldn't have seemed so out of place. A cop coming to their door, something involving Mandy and Mickey – it should have just been another day. But it wasn't another day. Because Mickey doesn't just come over and sleep in his bed and eat breakfast with his family. And Mickey doesn't hold his tongue, doesn't listen to a woman not more than 4 years older than him order him around. Mickey doesn't run and hide upstairs to let someone else fight his battle.

"What the fuck do you want?" Mandy had fully emerged now, a scowl on her face and her arms crossed. Lip was standing close beside her, either to rein her in or cheer her on – he couldn't tell yet.

"Mandy." Tony said her name with a defeated breath. "It's about your dad."

Each and every muscle in Ian's body twisted at the name and he couldn't help but wince. Fiona threw him a stare that screamed I know everything and he almost ran too. Ian could feel his feet sweat and beg to be used to climb the steps up into his room. The instinct to hide is one so frowned upon which is ironic because they always drill it in your head to survive. But what happens when you have to hide to survive?

"What about my dad?" Mandy's words were venom, ice that was so cold it would burn your skin instead. And isn't that just the best oxymoron to exist?

Fiona's hand twitched and the door closed just a little bit more. Tony pretended not to notice because he would lose. You always lose to love.

"Mandy go upstairs." His sister's voice was growing in volume.

Mandy pushed forward away from Lip and visibly grew more erratic. "No I want to know what's going on."

Ian saw it happen in slow motion. Each particle expand and burst in a more accurate representation of just how destructive life could be. It made him think of the fish that Carl had micro-waved once. An entire universe quivering and combusting and still you don't quite look at it slow enough to understand the severity- the moment when everything changes.

Tony put on his best poker face because no one has ever really cried over spilled evil.

"I'm sorry Mandy, he's dead."