Chapter Nine: Read Between the Lines

I was physically sore when I got home from work that night, and all I wanted to do was take another shower and go to bed. I unlocked my apartment door and shut it behind me, hearing my phone going off as I shuffled through the living room. Peering at it, I saw it was an incoming call from Ian but I ignored it, telling him I'd just gotten home and wanted to rest. I went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out a cup of yogurt to tide me over until the morning before I walked down the hallway and towards the bathroom.

As I undressed, I realized, my spoon in my mouth, that my phone had been returned to my pocket after I'd ignored Ian's phone call. Rolling my eyes, I pressed the button to check the time, my phone indicating one missed call and one unread text message. Shaking my head, and opened the message—from Ian, of course—and rolled my eyes. He was persistent, at least, I figured as I finished my yogurt.

I'll be over in half an hour. Do what you need to do to prepare yourself.

I let out a mock groan, finishing my yogurt and turning towards the shower, adjusting the temperature to my liking before I stepped inside. I allowed the water to run over my body, feeling relieved when it hit all the right pressure points as I rolled my shoulders. I stepped out a few moments later, wrapping myself in a towel and pulling a comb through my hair before I gathered my things and returned to my bedroom. Tossing away the yogurt container, I put the spoon onto my nightstand to return to the kitchen and shoved my clothes into the laundry basket as I made my way over to my dresser. Fishing out a pair of shorts and a tank top, I put them on hastily and plugged my phone in before I whisked the spoon back to the kitchen and put it into the dishwasher.

A knock at the door normally would've startled me but, thanks to Ian's text message, I knew who it was as I crossed over to it. Opening it, I smiled at Ian, and got a good physical look at Liam for the first time. The small child looked curiously up at me from where he stood on my threshold, holding Ian's hand, and I found myself beaming down at him as I crouched before him, not wanting him to be intimidated by me.

"And you must be Liam," I said, and Liam's eyes widened at the notion that a stranger knew who he was. "It's very nice to meet you," I went on, putting out my hand, which Liam took, albeit hesitantly. "My name is Scarlett. I'm a friend of Ian's. Do you want to come inside?" I asked, getting to my feet. "I just got cable set up in my living room a few days ago, and I'm sure I know what channels you would like."

Liam looked up at Ian, who nodded, and so he stepped inside. He reached for my hand and I took it, leading him over to the couch in the living room and sitting next to him. "I know how to work the remote at home," he said, his voice small.

"Well, that's wonderful," I replied, turning on the T.V. "Let me see... Ah, here we are!" I said, and switched it to the children's networks. "Now, I'm sure you can figure it out from here, if you know how to work the remote at home. Is this show all right?" I asked, handing over the remote and looking at him.

Liam nodded, seemingly transfixed by the bright colors and young people dancing on the screen in front of him. "Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I replied, squeezing his shoulder gently before getting to my feet and walking into the kitchen, Ian following. "He is so cute!" I whispered, nodding at Liam, who was still seemingly pleased with the channel I'd chosen for him.

"He's your brother, too," Ian whispered, but Liam didn't look over at us.

I tore my eyes away from Liam then, fixing Ian with a look. "Um... Not that I have any problem with it, but—"

"We have a black ancestor...somewhere," Ian replied.

I nodded. "Gotcha. Thanks for the tip," I replied with a laugh, turning towards the fridge and opening it, grabbing a bottle of beer and handing it over to him.

"I didn't ask for—"

I grinned at him. "I'm your fucking twin, Ian," I said with a grin. "I know what you want before you ask for it—well, I can at least anticipate it," I say, knocking the cap of my beer on the edge of the counter, which previous tenants had also seemed to use for it. "Besides, you only live once, right?"

"Sure," Ian replied, doing the same with his beer and sipping it. He leaned up against the counter, checking in on Liam for a moment before turning back to me. "Frank's been sniffing around the place..."

Automatically, as if I was reacting physically to his animosity towards my biological and his surrogate father, I gripped the other side of the counter. "How do you mean?"

Ian shrugged. "I don't know. When he walked in on me and Mickey once, I don't know, he just seemed like he suspected it the entire time."

"Your relationship or the fact that you were fucking?" I asked, taking a swig of my beer, attempting to remain calm about both our pasts, intermingled together like many twins' are, and yet I still felt sick about it.

"We weren't technically together yet," Ian replied, lowering his eyes. "I think I loved him but I don't think for a minute he was ready to love me yet."

I nodded, mulling that over for a minute as I swirled my beer in its bottle. "So, what makes you think Frank is sniffing around?" I ask.

"He's usually so standoffish, but sometimes he can get invasive," Ian said. "But I'll warn you if he's on a bender. I don't want you near him when that happens."

I looked up then, my eyes locking with his. "He hurt you?" I ask.

Ian gave a short nod. "Yeah. Smashed my nose back into my skull pretty good when he was on one of his benders."

"Shit," I whispered, shaking my head and automatically reached out and clasping his hand which gripped the counter. "Now I wish I could've been there..."

"Yeah?" Ian asked, taking another swig of his beer. "Why's that?"

I laughed darkly then. "I'm not someone you'd want to fuck with, Ian."

"Oh?" he asked. "Do tell."

"I wasn't just a debate team deb and government girl," I replied. "Dr. Normal may have been a cold jackass, but he gave me a pretty decent allowance."

"Yeah?" Ian asked, cocking an eyebrow. "How decent?"

"Five hundred a month," I reply. "Which went up to a thousand after I graduated high school. I could've spent it on drugs or booze to get people to like me, but I didn't. I decided to take a more practical approach."

"Nice chuck of change," Ian said, raising his bottle to me. "What'd you end up doing with all that money?"

"Saved some, spent some," I reply.

"On?"

"Self-defense courses," I replied. "I wanted to learn how to defend myself—that was the cover story. The real story was, I wanted to fight if I had to."

"When did you start?"

"When I was thirteen," I replied. "I finished when I was eighteen, when college just became too much for me."

"How'd you graduate?"

I smirked, shaking my head and taking another swig of beer. "Kicked my instructor's ass so good that he told me to never come back. But I got the certification because he was a fucking pussy," I say, and Ian grins at the picture I painted. "He was a total pussy!" I said, nodding at him to let him know I meant it. "Besides, when I heard what he was saying about minorities, he needed to get his ass kicked..."

"What minorities?"

"Race, gender, sexual orientation—you name it! If you weren't a heterosexual white person, you would consider yourself lucky if he gave you time of day." I shook my head, wanting to erase Barry Newman from my mind. "Son of a bitch..."

"Why?" Ian asked.

"It was because of him—well, it became because of him—that I used every trick in the book in the first place."

Ian tightened his grip on his bottle. "What'd he do?"

"Touching," I replied bitterly. "He never went too far—I was still underage. I got my certificate a week after my eighteenth birthday, and threatened to expose him if he didn't hand it over. I guess you could say beating his sick ass was just a bonus..."

"Asshole," Ian whispered under his breath. "What'd you end up doing to him?"

I scoff at the memory, sipping my beer. "Went easy on him—there were witnesses present and I was over eighteen at the time," I reply. "I got him in a damn good headlock..."

"Oh, yeah?" Ian asked.

"Yeah. One false move, and his oxygen could've been cut off," I say, smirking at him, and not the least bit sorry.

"Why didn't you cut it off?"

"Again, I was over eighteen, and there were witnesses," I reply, leaning back against the counter and considering it then. "I don't know. I guess we all have demons..."

"Some you left behind?"

I turned and looked at Ian. "Yeah. And on the other side of the boarder."

Ian sighed, placing his beer bottle upon the counter and crossing to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Look, I know tequila was involved and you spent a good portion of the night praying to the porcelain gods. You were not in your right mind, Scar, and, believe me, I've been there. I don't blame you for what happened."

"So, do you blame Mickey?" I ask, not accusing.

Ian shook his head. "I don't blame anyone. I know you think you acted stupidly that night, but come the fuck on. Everyone acts stupid."

I sighed. "I think, when he was drunk, he thought I was..."

Ian made a face. "You're kidding."

I mimic his expression and shake my head. "No. I think that's what drove me to get on my knees and pray to the damned porcelain gods. I wasn't in a good way that night..."

Ian sighed. "I should've known then, if I didn't before..."

I look up at him. "Known what?"

"That you were my twin," he replied, "or, at least, my sister. I mean, you ran off the minute you couldn't handle something. That's what I did."

"Lots of people do that, Ian..."

"Yeah, but you were coherent enough to actively avoid everyone's calls. Not everyone does that," he replied. "Some people text that they're okay just so the other people will leave them the fuck alone, but not you."

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I thought that since I'd been alone for the first two decades of my life, I figured..." I sighed. "I figured I could handle it."

Ian pulled me into a hug, and I felt relieved when he did so. "Well, you're not alone anymore, Scar... Which is sort of why I'm here..."

I pushed back from him. "Got ulterior motives, do we?"

He sighs. "Yeah. I want you to come over tomorrow."

I shrugged. "It's Friday. I'm usually over there or with Fiona on weekends. Why wouldn't I see you when I've made a point to do so since I've met you guys?"

"Because you've actively dodged the subject of who you are."

I rolled my shoulders. "Why does that matter? You know and Lip knows. You're my twin and my best friend and Lip... Well, he just had to know, you know?"

Ian grinned. "I'm your best friend?"

I laughed. "Well, yeah. Of course you are."

"Carl's got leave now, and he's coming back," Ian explained. "You need to sit down with all of us—Fiona, Debbie, Carl, and Liam—because they're the ones who don't know. You need to sit down with us. Don't worry—Lip and I will be there."

I laughed again. "Well, Fiona has been wondering why Lip isn't really mentioning me. She thinks we had an awkward breakup and we did—I'll bet money that it was the most awkward reason of all, but..."

"Fiona loves you," Ian assures me, "and although she and I have had our differences, I know she would want to know."

"And Debbie?" I ask.

"She really looks up to you," Ian tells me. "She thinks you have everything figured out, and I think she's hoping some of that will rub off on her."

"Debbie is a sweet girl," I reply. "I've seen her with Fiona a few times." I hesitate for a moment before continuing to speak. "I sense some tension between them, but it could be my minor in psychology working too hard..."

Ian laughed. "No, it's not working too hard. There's been tension for a while now, you're not wrong there."

"About Franny?" I ask, deliberately keeping my tone tentative.

Ian nodded. "Yeah. Fiona and Debbie were pregnant at the same time, but Fiona got an abortion because she wasn't ready. She didn't think that Debbie was ready either, but Frank was oddly supportive of the pregnancy, and so Debbie had Franny."

"Well, she was young, sure, but age doesn't make a good mother. Hell, Tina was twenties when she adopted me and she didn't know what the fuck she was doing..."

"It's a tense subject," Ian said quietly, "but we've all made it work."

"She's lucky," I said softly as Ian turned around to check on Ian, "to have a beautiful little girl like that. Debbie's lucky."

Ian turned around to face me then. "You could have a beautiful girl like that, too, Scar. It's not that hard."

I shake my head. "Belief me, it's not that simple. Nothing about this is simple—moving here, starting my new job, finding you guys... All of it has been so fucking complicated, and I don't know if it'll ever end."

"Scar, it's okay," Ian replied. "Are you nervous about telling the family?"

"Fuck, of course I am," I replied. "But me admiring Debbie's mothering has nothing to do with my sudden outburst," I say, laughing to myself.

"Okay," Ian said. "Tell me, then."

I lock my eyes with his. "I can't have children," I replied.

"Can't, as in won't...?"

I shake my head. "Can't as in can't. I'm physically unable to have a child. My doctor back home told me that when I was nineteen." I shrugged. "Guess it was never something that was supposed to happen for me, you know?"

Ian immediately hugged me again. "Thankfully we live in a day and age where we're not strictly limited to doing it the old-fashioned way," he said quietly. "You've got lots of options, and with your amazing salary, who knows?"

I nodded. "I know. I always thought that I wanted a biological child, you know, because it was before I found you guys," I replied, pulling back from him and wrapping my arms around myself in a protective way. "I guess I figured if I had one biological link to myself out there, that I knew for sure could love me unconditionally, then I wouldn't be lost anymore..."

"Do you think you're still lost, Scar?"

I raise my eyes to Ian's. "No," I reply. "I've been found."

. . .

I was re-buttoning my blouse the following morning, after Nicholas's and my latest tryst in Tim's borrowed office, and smoothed my skirt back into place. "Thanks," I said, casually tossing the word over my shoulder as I moved towards a picture frame of Tim's—boasting one of his three law degrees—to get a good look at my hair. I didn't think the "just fucked" look was really office appropriate, although one could say the same thing about fucking the son of your boss. It just was unprofessional all-round.

"For what?" Nicholas asked; I could see him reflected in the pane of glass upon the picture, re-tying his tie and tucking in his shirt. "You're not thanking me for fucking you, are you, Scar? I thought I had you pegged differently..."

I felt my face flushed as I lowered my eyes. "No, of course I'm not thanking you for that. Stop being a douchebag for five minutes," I said, turning back around to face him. "I want to thank you for being...well, more professional in meetings."

Nicholas shrugged. "You're welcome."

I feel myself smiling a little then as I walk towards the door. "Maybe you just needed another method of venting your frustrations."

"Best way I've found so far," Nicholas replied. "You could come in here any day of the week any lie down on the desk, and I'd be okay with that."

I hesitated for a moment, the bloom in my cheeks deepening at the thought of it. "Just tell me one thing, okay?"

"Sure."

"You don't hate me, do you?" I ask.

Nicholas grinned. "You'll never know."

"Fine, then. Do you still think I'm a bad attorney?"

Nicholas sighed. "Being threatened by you and thinking you're a bad attorney are two totally different things, Scarlett. I think you're a brilliant attorney, which means me being threatened by you was totally warranted."

"Threatened, yes. Rude, no."

He nodded. "Trying to work on that."

I flashed him a smile. "I know you are," I reply, opening the door and slipping out.

I returned to my office and went through the stack of messages that Rachel had handed to me when I'd arrived at the firm earlier that morning. Organizing them in terms of priority, I spent the next hour and a half getting phone calls out of the way, thus distracting myself from Nicholas and all the tether there, plus my conversation with Ian the night before. He was insistent, but I guessed that that was a quality that ran in the Gallagher family. In our family.

I took a hard look then at the name plate on my desk which read SCARLETT DAVIES and then, in smaller print, ASSOCIATE ATTORNEY. It had always felt like an alien moniker to me, and, now that I knew my birth name, I felt like even more of a fraud for still using it. I bit my lip, going onto my desktop computer and typing in the requirements for name changing in the State of Illinois. After finding the information and processing it, I printed out the necessary documents and looked them over, feeling a sense of being whole again after such a long time of being stuck with a name I would never have chosen for myself.

Just after noon, Rachel rang my office, and I quickly picked up the phone. "Hey, Scarlett," she said into the phone. "Someone's here to see you."

"To see me?" I asked, feeling nervous.

"Don't worry—it's just Ian," Rachel said with a laugh.

"Oh, thank god," I replied, shuffling the papers on my desk. "Send him back, please, Rachel. I don't have anything for a while anyway."

"Very good, Scarlett," Rachel replied, hanging up.

I got to my feet as I heard Ian's footsteps, and I opened the door to meet him there. I smiled up at my twin, throwing my arms around him and welcoming him into the office, smelling something delicious coming from the bag he held. I gestured towards the chair on the other side of my desk and moved some things so that he could put the bag down.

"What's this?" I asked.

Ian grinned, holding up his hand and diving into the bag, withdrawing a half chicken, some mac and cheese, two salads, and two cans of soda. "Picnic-style!" he proclaimed.

I rolled my eyes, making a grab for the napkins and spreading them out accordingly, and hiding the name-changing documents in my top desk drawer. "What brought this on?" I asked, handing over some plastic utensils.

"Thought you'd want a change from the truck," Ian replied. "Besides, I thought it was only fair that I came to see you once in a while."

I smiled, shaking my head at him as I sliced the half chicken in half and put some on my own plate, provided by Ian. "Are you just trying to butter me up right now?" I ask, and give him a smirk when he just stares at me. "Come on. Did someone in the family do something? Do they need legal advice?"

Ian shakes his head at me. "I meant what I said last night."

"About?" I asked, cutting a piece of chicken and popping it into my mouth.

"Come on—we didn't even get drunk last night, Scar. I know you remember why I brought Liam over to your place."

"So I could meet yet another one of my siblings under false pretenses?" I ask, fighting and failing to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

Ian sighed. "It doesn't have to be that way, Scar, and you know it."

I leaned back in my chair. "You're talking about this like it's some simple thing. It's not simple, Ian, it's fucking complicated and you know it."

"Maybe because you're making it complicated, Scar."

"I'm not making it anything," I reply, lowering my utensils, my appetite slowly but surely diminishing right before my very eyes. "It's a fucking complicated thing. I mean, at least you and Lip know the full story. Isn't that enough?"

Ian sighed. "Honesty is always the best policy, Scar."

"I know that, Ian," I whispered, my voice hardening, despite the fact that there were tears in my eyes. "Don't you think I know that?"

Ian lowered his utensils and reached across my desk, clasping my hand in his. "I think you know that, Scar. I just think you're afraid."

"Afraid? I'm fucking terrified!" I cried out, gripping his hand. "What if Fiona doesn't want anything to do with me? What if Debbie suddenly thinks less of me because I'm her sister? Or what if Carl doesn't want to meet me? Or what if Liam—"

"What if?" Ian said, cutting me off, causing me to lock eyes with him. "What if they totally love you as much as I do?"

I shook my head. "Lip loved me, and look where that got us."

"You made a mistake, one that you can't take back, but it doesn't make you a bad person," Ian assures me, squeezing my hand back. "You honestly weren't given all the pieces to the puzzle, and that's not your fault."

"I should've waited," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I should've held out longer—we should've held out longer," I said, running it over and over again in my mind. "I mean, it would've been one thing if we just made out a couple of times, but we fell hard, Ian. We fell hard, and we did something that we can never take back..."

"Like I said, not your fault," Ian tells me. "It's not your fault. You've got to realize that some things just aren't in your control."

"Did you figure that out?" I whispered.

Ian turned and looked at me. "What?"

"When did you realize that things were out of control?"

Ian sighed, pulling away from me—he needed his space now, and, instinctively, I understood that, because he was going to open up to me. "When I kidnapped Yevgeny," he replied, and I saw him go back to that time in his mind.

"Mickey's son?"

"Yeah. I'd been pulling all-nighters at the club, and that's when the breaking point happened for me and for Mickey. It was the beginning of the end."

"That caused the breakup?" I asked.

Ian shook his head. "No. No, we held on for a little longer. After we were found, I was put into a hospital to get my symptoms in check, and to get on some decent medication."

"And then?" I whispered.

Ian looked up at me. "I got back from the hospital, and then we were okay for a while. And then it came out from Sammi that I used Lip's documentation to get into the army."

"Sammi?" I asked.

Ian smirked. "Oh, yeah. Our half-sister."

"We have another sibling?!" I demanded.

Ian nodded. "Yeah. So, I was arrested, and then Monica took me in for a while after they released me. I was gone for a while, and then when I got back..." He looked distant for a moment, almost as if he wished he could go back and change things.

"Ian?" I asked, sitting up. "What's wrong?"

He locked his eyes with mine again. "I ended things," he replied, the look of that lost boy never leaving his expression. "I told him he didn't owe me a thing, and Mickey..."

"What?" I whispered.

Ian lowered his eyes. "Told me he loved me..."

I get up from my chair then, circling the desk and putting my arms around his shoulders. "You have absolutely nothing to blame yourself for," I told him. "It wasn't your fault. You were just lost, Ian. Can't you see that?"

He shook his head. "I could've... I don't know, I could've done something...handled it differently, maybe. The whole situation."

"Hey," I said, pulling back and looking up at him. "If we did that to every little failed situation in our minds, then we'd be going around in circles for hours, chasing our tails. It just doesn't help anyone or anything, Ian. It doesn't."

Ian sighed. "You said... Last night, you said that you were found."

I nodded. "Yeah. I said that."

"Do you feel whole?"

I started to say that, yes, I felt whole, but there was more to the equation than that and, as my twin, Ian knew it. "No," I replied. "I don't know if we can ever feel whole."

"Maybe you'd feel more whole if more people knew," Ian said gently. "Maybe if we told them together, the two of us, it would make you feel whole."

I bit my lip, mulling it over. "You really think so?"

"Well, only one way to find out, Scar, and that's to just do it."

I gave a short nod then. "Okay."

"Okay?" Ian asked.

I looked up at him. "You get everyone you want to know gathered at the house tonight. I'll come over whenever you want, with the necessary documentation as proof. If it means that much to you, Ian, we'll tell them. Together."

"You have to want it, too, Scar."

I sighed. "I don't not want it, Ian," I replied. "But I don't think the sheer terror of them finding out is going to go away until we do tell them."

Ian nodded. "Okay. I'll set it up."

I threw my arms around him again. "Don't know what I'd do without you, Ian."

Ian laughed, hugging me back. "You'd survive," he replied.