Chapter Ten: The Games We Play

After Ian left my office after his lunch break had concluded, I took care of some of the trash that he'd left behind, appreciating that he knew I would want to keep busy before he and I dropped the bombshell later that night. I worked doubly hard on my case notes in anticipation of the verdict being delivered the following week; we'd managed another stay, given that Nicholas and I intended to interview Johnny's girlfriend, Jasmine, in the hopes that she would testify for our side instead of his. If our pledge was successful, Hugo had managed to pull some strings with the local government to get her a temporary visa, which would allow her to stay in the country on a legal basis, depending on her safety back home.

I would be sure to leave by five that afternoon, which would ensure that I would have plenty of time to head home, change, and grab what was left of the six pack out of my fridge. It really wasn't a good idea, I decided, for me to have a lot of alcohol in the house, given what I thought had happened in Mexico. I'd seen flashes of the memories of my night down there, and I hadn't liked what I'd seen. If they proved to be the complete story, or just fragments, I didn't know; what I did know is, perhaps I'd inherited the alcoholic tendencies from my biological father, and I knew that, sooner or later, he was likely to catch on to my true identity as well.

I began finalizing my notes and typing them onto my hard drive onto my desktop and sent copies to Hugo, Allie, and Nicholas, wanting them to know that I fully intended to stay on top of things, despite the approaching weekend. When four-forty-five arrived, I began to tidy the weeks-worth of mess in and around my office space, and gathered the paperwork I intended to take home with me over the weekend—mainly the name-changing documentation. I left my office at five sharp, waving goodbye to Rachel—who was going out for a drink with Cindy that night, as they so often did—and headed towards the elevators. Stepping inside once the chrome box had come to my summons, I pressed the correct parking garage level, and waited to be taken to where my car was waiting for me.

I felt the trepidation about that evening with every step I took, and yet I pushed on, letting myself into my car and driving out of the parking lot. I typed in my address into the GPS, trying to find the best way to get there at this hour, when after-work traffic had the propensity to be heavy. I found the best way for this time of night, distracting myself by listening to various traffic reports as I drove back to my apartment. When I arrived, I pulled into my space in the lot, making my way upstairs and into my unit itself, before undressing and getting directly into the shower, in the hopes that I wouldn't smell like Nicholas when I arrived.

As I considered smells then under the stream of lukewarm water, I found myself considering the smell of Nicholas. It was refined—he wore high-priced men's cologne, but unlike so many on the market, it didn't dilute his own personal scent. Shaking my head as I recalled his hand covering mine as I'd gotten down on the desk yet again earlier that morning, I found I liked the way his scent intermingled with mine. I pushed the thought from my mind, finishing my washing process and getting out of the shower, which could prove to be a dangerous place if one was left alone in one too long with their thoughts.

I wrapped myself in a towel and grabbed a smaller one to dry my hair; since it was so warm that night, I decided to let the air do the rest of the work, as I didn't really feel like breaking out my hair dryer. I went into my bedroom, going into my dresser and pulling out a skirt that was neither work appropriate, nor did it factor into the clothes that Kevin would've approved of for my stint at The Alibi Room. Smirking it myself and pulling it on, I also pulled out a lose top that didn't leave much to the imagination, but it didn't matter. As long as I was covered appropriately, I knew that my family could, at least, begin to accept me.

Leaving my bedroom and grabbing my cell phone from the wall charger near the front door, I went into my file cabinet in the living room and dug out the documentation, proving once and for all that I was a Gallagher child. I sighed, storing it in the individual file folder again and going into the kitchen, retrieving the six pack from the fridge and making my way back to the front door, and grabbing my keys, placed in the dish beside the door. I locked up then before heading directly to the staircase, not wanting to waste my time waiting for the elevator. I practically ran down then, the cool breeze I created as I walked a thrill and a relief to me as I ran towards the front door of the building, locking it up after me as I returned to my car.

I drove directly to the house then, the documents beside me on the passenger seat, the case of beer in the well below them. As I drove, I gently beat out the chorus of 9 to 5 on my steering wheel, remembering the simpler times of just cruising and having no familial worries—just pressing school assignments. But, I had a family now, I told myself as I got closer and closer to the house, and now, all that remained was letting them know the truth.

I parked outside of the house when I arrived, and just sat there for a moment after I'd turned off my car. I kept a firm grip of the steering wheel, and found that, for the first time in weeks, I was tempted to run again. However, I knew I had to push myself out of this funk—Ian would understand me being nervous, and he'd said we could tell the family together. I made a grab for my purse, slipping the documents, my phone, and my keys inside before putting it over my shoulder and making a grab for the six-pack. I locked my car behind me and walked towards the gate, which squeaked, as it always did, when I walked through it. I walked up the path, forcing confidence to go through my veins like there was no tomorrow as I got up the stairs. When I tried the door, I found it was unlocked and I stepped inside, remembering my sudden reappearance from Mexico and how everyone was worried about me. And now, after so many questions and so little answers, they would know why I ran.

"Hey," I said, stepping into the living room and walking towards the kitchen, where Ian was wandering around, obviously making something and having some idea of how to do it. "I didn't know you cooked," I joked, placing my purse on one of the chairs by the counter.

Ian shrugged. "I've picked up a thing or two."

I smirked, shaking my head at him and handing over the six pack. "Alcohol gene," I said quietly to him as he took it. "Can't risk it."

"Wise decision," Ian replied, putting it in the fridge.

"So, anyone here yet?" I asked.

"Liam's upstairs helping Carl fix up the guest room," Ian replied. "Fiona and Lip should be along shortly, and Debbie's out back with Franny."

"I'll go see Debbie, then," I replied, hugging Ian as I walked by and slipped out the back door, and, when I did, Debbie turned around, Franny in her arms. "Hey, Debs," I said, shutting the door behind me and sitting next to her. "How is she today?" I asked, smiling at Franny, who immediately reached out to be held.

"She's fine, but I'll tell you, I'll be thankful for the break," Debbie joked, immediately handing Franny over. She watched us interacting for a moment before she sighed. "Lip ever mention that you look like Ian?"

I felt myself turn red then and nervously laughed it off. "No," I replied. "I think that would've made things, awkward, don't you?"

Debbie looked like she wanted to say more on the subject, but decided to drop it. "Yeah, you're probably right," she replied. "Is that why you broke up? Lack of communication?"

"Who told you we broke up?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "Fiona and I had a fight about it," she replied. "I said you broke up, and Fiona says we should wait and hear it from you."

I sighed. "Probably the kinder thing to do in this situation," I reply, gently bouncing Franny on my knees, which made her squeal with joy.

"You're great with her," Debbie said, smiling at the interaction. "You think you'll have kids, if you ever meet the right guy?"

I shook my head. "It's not about meeting the right guy, Debs."

"Oh, sorry," Debbie said, covering her mouth. "If you meet the right girl? Is that why you and Lip broke up? Because you're gay?" she wanted to know.

I laughed aloud then, causing Franny to scream with a burst of laughter herself. "No, Debs. I'm not gay, although I have no issue whatsoever with people who are," I tell her. "I can't have children, and it's just something I have to deal with."

Debbie immediately looked regretful. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

I smiled at her, securing Franny around her middle so that I could clasp Debbie's hand. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. Believe me, it's gotten easier to talk about with time. I mean, when I first found out, I was a wreck."

"Really?" Debbie asked. "You always seem to have it to together. I can't imagine what you in a crisis looks like..."

"When you first met me—well, saw me," I replied. "That was me in a crisis."

"Were you a wreck because you were adopted yourself?" Debbie asked. "Did you want a biological link to you?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that was the reason."

"Ian mentioned you were looking for your biological family," Debbie said, taking Franny back when she began to fuss, calming her down immediately. "Did you find them?"

"Well—" I began, but the door opened behind us.

"Hey!" Fiona said, coming outside, and Debbie and I immediately got to our feet, and I felt bad when Fiona hugged me more enthusiastically than she did Debbie. "Lip! Come on out here! I found where Scarlett was hiding!"

Lip came outside, and I immediately was transported back to my apartment...

"Are you Ian's twin?" he asked, and I looked up.

"Yes," I replied. "But I'm only his half-sibling. I'm your full sister."

"God, I don't believe this..." Lip whispered.

"Why do you think I ran?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Why do you think I got the hell out of here the moment I got the news? I was terrified, Lip," I said, this entire conversation like a knife in my heart. "Terrified that I would go to you and that all common sense would go out the window and that you and I would do something we'd regret—"

"I loved you!" Lip cried out, and I felt the words sting my very core. "I called you my girlfriend, and you just—"

"I didn't know," I whispered. "Lip, you've got to believe that I didn't know that there was a remote possibility that you and I were—"

"Fucking siblings!" Lip screamed, and I felt the tears come out faster than they ever have before in my entire life. "We're fucking siblings! I'm in love with my fucking sister!"

"You're not in love with me, Lip," I replied, shaking my head. "This is something else—it's not love, trust me. Just...Google it."

"How could you not have known?" he demanded, coming towards me then, slamming me up against the opposite wall. "Is this just a sick game to you, Scar? Stepping into a new environment like a psychotic social experiment and fucking people over?!"

I shoved him away from me. "What was I supposed to do?!" I demanded. "Wait for a fucking DNA test after I cared enough about somebody to fuck them?!" I cried out. "May as well test the whole fucking city! God knows how many kids Frank has!"

Lip reached out without hesitation, intending to smack me, but I caught him by the wrist. "Let. Me. Go."

"No," I replied. "I would rather not show up to work tomorrow with a handprint on my face, thank you very much. Believe me, I'm doing you a favor."

Lip stared at me then, unmoving, and, for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the boy I'd fallen in love with—not love, not love, but something... "Scar..." He whispered, and the boy spoke, and I felt my resolve weakening.

"Lip," I whispered back, "we can't..."

"You don't want to?"

"That's not the question," I replied. "But we can't. Now that we know it's wrong, we can never discuss it or do anything again."

Lip pulled his wrist away from my grip, walking unsteadily towards the door and placing his hand upon the knob. "I don't care what Google says," he told me after a moment as he turned to look back at me. "I love you, Scarlett," he said, opening the door and walking out of my apartment, the door shutting behind him.

I sank to my knees then, covering my face to prevent everyone from hearing my sobs. "Yeah, Lip, I know," I replied to myself. "I love you, too..."

"Hey," Lip said, stepping forward, kissing me awkwardly on the cheek and turning towards Debbie and Franny, the latter of whom he pulled into his arms, and Franny let out a happy shriek at the attention. "Carl just came downstairs with Liam. You should come in."

"Yes, you haven't met them yet!" Fiona cried.

"I met Liam last night," I replied, and Fiona turned around.

"You met Liam?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Ian swung by my apartment."

Fiona nodded at that. "Huh," she said, taking in the information.

When we stepped inside, I immediately caught sight of Carl where he sat with Liam at the kitchen table. Carl got to his feet when he came in, ambling over to me and immediately giving me a hug, which caught me off-guard. Catching Ian's eye, I hugged him back, before Carl pulled away and I immediately dropped my arms to my sides.

"Well, Carl, it's wonderful to meet you," I said.

Carl grinned. "Nice to meet you, too, Scar. Nice to finally put a face to all those letters that Lip was sending me."

I felt my face flush. "Did he?" I asked.

"Sure!" Carl replied. "Anything to see the girl Lip's in love with!"

I stood there for a moment, staring at Carl, before I managed to propel myself towards the back door again, and heard it slam behind me. I stood on the back porch, gripping the top of the ledge that would keep anyone from jumping off, and found that I was shaking. Part of me wished that I hadn't found the evidence, confirming what I'd already known. Perhaps, then, things could've been a lot less complicated, and even though I knew I'd done the right thing in the eyes of the law, I'd done the wrong thing for my heart.

I heard the door open behind me then, thinking it was Ian, but my skin immediately prickled when I heard the voice and the door shut behind it.

"Who else knows?"

I sighed, shutting my eyes against Lip's voice. "Only you and Ian know."

"Why are you here?"

I turned around then, sighing. "Because I have to be. I have the documentation in my purse inside the house. I'm telling them tonight. Ian says I have to tell the truth, and that's what I intend to do, Lip." I sighed then, knowing I had to say this. "No matter what I might feel, I have to come clean to the rest of them."

Lip nodded then, his gaze locking with mine. "How do you feel, Scar?"

I sighed. "It's not that simple, Lip."

"Just... Just tell me," he said, and I felt horrible for making him sound so vulnerable. "Look, I know it's crazy, and I know it's wrong, believe me, but..."

"Lip," I said, fighting to not take another step towards him. "Please don't make me..."

"How did you feel about me? How do you feel about me?"

"Lip, please," I whispered, hating that we were back to this. "You know it's wrong. Please, don't make me say this..."

"Scar, please," Lip said, stepping forward then, his fingers wrapping themselves around my arms and holding me there, and I shuddered at having him so close to me.

This is wrong...wrong, wrong, wrong, my mind shouted at me. What are you doing?! Get him off you right now!

"Just tell me," Lip whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. "Please..."

I felt my mouth open then. "Don't," I whispered.

"Scar?"

"Please," I whispered, my eyes welling with tears. "Don't."

"It's not the same for us," Lip whispered. "It's not like we were in diapers together or something like that. There must be an exception for every rule, isn't there?"

"Lip, are you kidding me right now?!" I hissed at him. "I'm your—"

Lip looked as if he'd completely lost his resolve for a moment then, as he leaned down and kissed me, holding me against him. And, for a moment, I lost mine, too—while I didn't wrap my arms around him, I didn't push him away either. I felt the tears falling from my eyes then, as everything that kissed represented was completely wrong. I shoved him away from me then, and smacked him full across the face.

"I fucking love you, okay?!" I said, my teeth gritted as I looked up at him then, my hand tense from the blow to his face. "You happy now?!"

Lip shook his head, dragging the back of his hand across his eyes—he didn't want me to see him cry, and I could accept that. "No," he replied. "I'm never going to be okay, Scar, because I fucking love you, too."

I put my head into my hands. "We can't do this again, Lip," I whispered. "This, right here, right now—this was a goodbye to all of that," I tell him, looking up and making an effort to compose myself and failing miserably. "It shouldn't matter how we think or how we feel. In the eyes of the law, it's wrong, and we could go to jail for even acting this way. We can't slip up again, because it could ruin everything."

"What's there to ruin?" he asked.

"Hello! Ian fucking knows!" I replied.

"Ian can keep his mouth shut..."

"Stop," I whispered, holding up my hand. "Just stop right there. I've told you once, I've told you several times how wrong it is," I tell him. "I don't want to say it again; I can't say it again. We just need to make up our minds to forget..."

Lip looks unsure then. "But... What if I don't want to forget?"

"Try," I reply. "I've already started trying."

Lip looks conflicted then. "Did you... Have you... Did you hook up with someone when you escaped to Mexico?"

I looked away.

"Oh, my god," Lip said, his voice shaking as he finally released his hold upon me. "Oh, my god, Scarlett, what did you do?"

I lowered my eyes. "I don't think you should be asking me that question," I whispered, trying to keep my voice devoid of all emotion.

"Scarlett, please. Tell me."

I felt myself stiffening then; I didn't want to hurt Lip, but I also needed to dissuade him from me at all costs. If it hadn't worked when I told him I was his sister—his full sister—then maybe my other escapades would do the trick. "You know him, actually."

"Scarlett, please," he said, and I stupidly turned to look at him. "Please, not him. Please tell me it was anyone but him."

"Who are you talking about?" I demanded impatiently.

"Mickey," Lip replied. "Did you fuck Mickey Milkovich?"

"It shouldn't matter who I've fucked, Lip—or how many!" I said wildly, wanting this conversation to be over once and for all.

Lip stumbled backwards then. "Scarlett?" he asked.

"What?"

"What have you been doing?"

"Trying to move the fuck on from my fucking brother!" I cried out then, my voice breaking as I said those words. "Because this is wrong, so, so wrong..."

"Scar..."

"No," I said, pulling away from his hands, which sought to comfort me, or something else, something far worse, which could land us both in the slammer for many reasons. "Don't do this to me, Lip. Not again."

"Who is it?" he whispered.

"What?"

"Who's the other guy? Besides fucking Mickey, who else have you been fucking?"

"That's none of your fucking business!" I cried out.

"I'm not asking as your ex-boyfriend," he said, and I felt as if I would vomit from the implications of that title. "I'm asking as your brother."

I rolled my eyes, moving to go inside the house, to escape this madness. "You don't know him, so it doesn't matter."

Lip moved in front of me then, catching me by the arms, and I hated myself for gasping when he touched me. "It matters to me, Scar."

I felt my resolve go down for a moment when he called me by that pet name, but I couldn't allow myself to be swayed—not again. "Well, it shouldn't."

"It does," Lip insisted. "Please. Just tell me."

I managed to pull myself out of his hold on me—physically, if not emotionally. I just stared at him for a moment, wanting so much to tell him what was on my mind, but knowing that, the moment I did, it would be all over. "You don't need to know..."

"But I want to know," Lip said quietly.

"Please..." I whispered. "Don't ask me."

Lip stared at me then, wanting to say something, and yet he held himself back for a moment, not at all sure what the rules were. "Scar..."

"What?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"What are you thinking?"

I broke the gaze he held on me, examining my nails. "Nothing."

"Scar, you're always thinking. What are your thoughts?"

I shook my head. "You really don't want—"

Lip grabbed my arms again, squeezing them hard, and I felt a full-body reaction this time, and I very nearly melted too his touch, and would have, if I hadn't been careful. "I just want the truth from you now, Scar. Just...please. Tell me the truth."

"You want the truth?" I demanded then, using all my strength to shove Lip off me. "Okay, I'll tell you the truth. It's my boss's son," I replied, and I could see that the barb stung. "And there's nothing between us—just mindless fucking. I'm not looking to fall in love now, Lip—I just want to fuck to forget," I reply, and move to go inside then.

Lip raises his arm for a moment, preventing me from going. "What were you afraid of, Scar?" he asked, and I sighed then, knowing that I had to come clean.

I turn around and look at him for a moment, hating myself for allowing the tears to come again as I fought with myself to remain calm. "I was afraid of hurting you," I reply, my voice breaking as I worked hard to compose myself once again before heading back into the lion's den.