Chapter Eleven: Fragments

I went back inside, Lip at my heels, and felt immediate relief when Ian shoved Lip to another room of the house. I heard them yelling at each other, immediately feeling uncomfortable with the dynamic I'd destroyed, and saw Fiona just staring at me from across the room. Instinctively, I crossed the room towards her, and she put her arm around my shoulders and led me outside to the front porch. I thought she was literally showing me the door, but she came outside with me and shut the door of the house, arms crossed.

"Talk," she said.

I didn't know if it was the fact that she sounded so authoritative in that moment, or if I knew something she didn't, but I needed someone else to know. "You knew that Ian was gay, didn't you?" I asked.

Fiona nodded. "Yeah. I told him I knew when he came out."

I nodded back at her, feeling uneasy. "Well, you know what I'm going to say, right?" I asked, looking up at her. "I mean, it's not something that I could hide for long..."

"I just figured you'd tell me when you were ready."

"That I'm your sister?" I asked, the words falling from my lips, and the pressure in my shoulders that had been building the moment I read the various words on my birth certificate beginning to diminish somewhat.

Fiona nodded. "Yes. I know."

I leaned up against the side of the house. "When?" I asked.

She sighed. "When Lip first introduced you to me in the park," she replied. "You just bore such a striking resemblance to Ian, I initially believed it was uncanny. But the more I got to know you, I just saw these similarities to all of us—even Frank."

"Similarities?" I asked.

"Well, yours and Ian's behavior is pretty similar," she replied. "And you're smart like Debbie and like Lip. You get stubborn and impatient, like me. You're not afraid to get physical or freaky—that's Carl."

"And Liam?" I asked.

"You're quiet, most of the time," Fiona said with a smile. "That's all of us."

I sighed. "Well, there's one thing..."

"What?" Fiona asked.

"I'm Ian's twin, but only his half-sister," I replied, and Fiona looked at me in confusion. "I'm Frank and Monica's child."

"How is that even...?"

"I must have been conceived sometime in the same week as Ian," I replied, shrugging. "It's been known to happen."

Fiona looked floored at the sudden declaration, despite the notion that she had known, or at least, had suspected it, for a while. "So, that's why you're here tonight?" she asked. "To tell the family about it?"

I nodded. "Well, to tell the people who don't know already about it..."

Fiona gave a slight nod at that. "I'm not the first person to know for sure, am I? That you're our sister, I mean?"

I sighed, my shoulders slacking. "Fi, I'm sorry. I love you, but, let's face it, I didn't meet you first—I met Lip first."

"Lip knows?" she asked, looking saddened for our brother.

I nodded at her. "Yes. He was the second person to find out."

"Ian," Fiona said quietly. "He was the first?"

I sighed, unmoving from my position, still slouched against the side of the house. "Yeah. He confronted me outside of court one day. It was a really bad day, too—Nicholas was being a real asshole and I so didn't need him coming down there and confronting me like that, but he wanted answers, just like I did when I ran..."

"So, you did run?" Fiona asks, and I lock my eyes to hers. "I thought you might have, or just locked yourself into your apartment. But Lip, Ian, and I went over there a handful of times during the hours you were gone, each time hoping to find your car in the lot. We were really worried about you, Scar..."

I shake my head. "Yeah, I may have crossed the border..."

"What the hell?!" Fiona demanded, swiping me on my arm.

"Fiona!" I cried out, attempting and failing to doge the blows. "Stop it!"

"I reserve the right to do that!" she said, her voice shaking slightly as our eyes locked, and she looked genuinely concerned for me. "I missed out on twenty years of raising you, so you're damn right I'm going to make up for it now!"

"Fiona!"

"No, I'm your fucking sister, Scarlett!" she said, and then she hesitated for a moment, lowering her arms as she stared at me then. "Scarlett..."

"What?"

"Is that even...?"

"My real name?"

"Yeah."

I shook my head at her; even though I'd whispered the name to myself countless times, and said it to Ian, it felt different, somehow, saying it to Fiona. "No, it's not my real name," I replied, and Fiona stood there staring for a moment.

"What's your real name?" she asked.

I bit down hard on my lower lip. "It'll be my real name again soon," I said. "I'm taking it back, if it's cool with you."

Fiona laughed. "Just tell me what your fucking name is."

"Murphy," I replied, and Fiona looked intrigued at the name. "My real name—or, I guess you could say birth name—is Murphy Margaret Gallagher."

"Margaret," she whispered.

"Does that mean something?" I asked.

She nodded. "Margaret—Maggie—was Frank's mother," she replied.

"Was?"

"Yeah, we lost her a while back," Fiona replied, slouching on the other side of the front door. "I guess I'm sorry you didn't get to meet her..."

I nodded. "How do you think Frank will react?" I wanted to know.

Fiona scoffed at that. "Who gives a fuck how he'll react?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. He's our father. I guess having a father is something I never really figured out how to have. With Martin, him walking out when I was five... I don't know. Maybe it's good not to have a father. I could've had you, Fi, and I could've helped, but I wasn't here, and I'm so sorry I couldn't be..."

Fiona immediately straightened up and yanked me into her arms without hesitation. "I don't give a fuck about the past, Scarlett," she said, using my full name, and it felt odd, somehow. "You're my fucking sister, and we're not letting you go again."

I gripped Fiona tightly, tempted to hold her to that. "I'm so glad you're taking this well," I replied, feeling the hot tears in my eyes again. "I don't know what I would've done if, somehow, you were against it..."

Fiona pulled back then, looking at me. "I want you to listen to me, Scarlett, and listen to me good, do you hear me?"

I nodded. "I do."

"I want you to know that you are one of us, no matter what anyone says," she said, her arms positioned firmly on my shoulders. "A piece of paper—I don't even need to see it—won't prove to me what I already know. And what I know is that you're my fucking sister, and, due to some pretty fucked up circumstances beyond our control, you were taken away from us and, now that we've found you, and you've found us, you're a fucking Gallagher, and you're a fucking Gallagher for life."

I laughed aloud then. "I feel like a fucking Gallagher," I replied. "Davies just sounded so fake to me, and the Gallagher's are real—we're real, Fi."

Fiona yanked me back into her arms. "You're damn right we're real, Scar," she said, holding me for a moment before pulling back again. "Come on. Let's tell everyone else." She put her arm around my shoulders again, leading me back inside and as we stepped over the threshold, I was relieved that I didn't hear Ian and Lip fighting anymore.

As we stepped into the living room, Debbie was sitting on the couch, Franny on her knees, and Carl and Liam on either side of her. Ian had returned to his cooking post in the kitchen, and Lip was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a beer. I was quick to notice that his cheek was slightly swollen from where I'd hit him, and he was also sporting a red mark on his arm, where I assumed Ian had grabbed him to drag him into the next room. Averting my eyes, I watched as Fiona moved to squeeze herself on the couch, nodding at me in an encouraging manner as I went towards my purse. I caught Ian's eye, and he raised his eyebrows in Fiona's direction, and I nodded at him, and he seemed to understand.

I dipped into my purse then, taking out the paperwork, and caught a glimpse of Lip deliberately looking away from me. It was likely hard for him, I decided then as I approached where Debbie, Carl, and Liam were all on the couch. Fiona reached out and took Franny from Debbie as I came forward, and perched on the arm of the piece of furniture, and they all turned towards me.

"Debbie, do you want to have a look at this?" I asked, since she was the oldest out of the bunch and clearly would have an opinion on the matter.

"Sure," Debbie replied, taking the file folder from me and opening it, taking a good look at my birth certificate, still on top. "Murphy Margaret Gallagher," she said, reading the name on top, which quickly piqued the interest of Carl and Liam. "Did you come across this during a case of yours?" she asked.

I sighed. "No," I replied. "I came across it when a judge intervened on my behalf when he heard I wanted to trace my biological family."

Carl looked up at me. "So, how'd you get this?" he asked.

I turned to look at Carl. "Because it's mine," I replied, not trying to sugar-coat anything. "That's my original birth certificate, which was buried after my adoption."

"Biological father—Frank Gallagher," Debbie continued, fully absorbed in the paperwork. "And biological mother—Monica Gallagher... 1996," she whispered, and her eyes darted to mine. "So, you're our sister, but Ian's twin?"

"I'm all of your sister," I replied, hating myself for lying to her before. "But Ian's only my half-sibling, because of...well, you know."

"But, you're twins," Liam said, catching on quickly. "How can you be twins but only half-siblings?" he wanted to know.

I smiled, cupping his cheek. "Well, when a couple who loves each other very much... Well, long story short," I said, not wanting to have that conversation with Liam at all. "Sometimes when two people...hug," I said, wanting to choose my words carefully, "they can hug more than one person at once. And then the mommy gets pregnant by two different people hugging her, but close enough together that the babies come at the same time."

"Oh," Liam replied, satisfied. "So, I'm your brother now?"

I smiled at him. "I was always your sister," I replied.

"Then, why didn't you live in the house with us?"

"That's a good question," Lip muttered from his place at the table, and Ian and I shot him looks at the same time.

"Because," I said, turning back around to face Liam, "Monica had me put up for adoption, which means I was raised with another family, far away from here."

"But why?" Liam asked. "We're family."

"And I'm here now," I replied, lifting him up and pulling him onto my lap without hesitation, and he settled quickly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Liam looked satisfied with that. "Good," he replied. "I don't want you to go."

"So, do you want us to call you 'Scarlett' or 'Murphy'?" Carl asked.

I laughed. "Well, funny you should mention that," I replied. "I've actually got the documentation to begin my name change. If that's not objectionable to any of you..."

"I vote yes," Fiona replied.

"Yes," Debbie said.

"Yes!" Liam cried, clapping his hands.

"Hell yeah!" Carl said.

"Yes," Ian said from the kitchen, and I turned to look at him. "You're my twin, and no matter what anyone says, you're not just my half-sister. You are my sister—period. End of story. I want you to be a Gallagher, for real."

I turned and looked at Lip, who was nose-deep in his beer already, and I wondered how many he'd already put away. "Lip?" I asked tentatively. "Do you want to vote?"

He sighed. "I don't give a fuck," he replied, and Debbie and I automatically covered Franny's and Liam's ears respectively. "Do whatever you want."

It wasn't the answer I wanted, but I knew that Lip was hurting right now, so I decided to leave him alone for the time being. "Okay," I said, turning back to the rest of my siblings. "I'll fill out the paperwork and gets the funds worked out this weekend, and send it into the proper authorities on Monday. Okay?"

"Great!" Ian said. "Meanwhile, dinner's ready."

"Thank god!" Carl said, getting to his feet. "I'm starving!"

We all managed to squeeze around that tiny table, and there was a flurry of conversation that followed as we organized the plates, forks and knives, and passed around the dishes filled with pasta, meatballs, and garlic bread. I remembered, growing up, how dinners were filled with frequent lapses of silence, and how the only conversation would be from Dr. Normal directed to my mother, or the boys. Only on rare occasions—like discussing my education and career path—was I invited to speak. It didn't matter now; none of it mattered, for I'd finally found my family, and even though I'd never been a complete part of it up until now, it was as if I'd been there forever, and I never wanted to leave.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" Ian asked.

I'd stayed behind to help him put Liam to bed and wash up. The first task didn't even need to be done, because Liam wanted to hear Carl's stories about military school, which left the cleaning up of the kitchen to Ian and me. I didn't mind; these tasks were usually so mundane, but, just standing in the kitchen with my twin brother scrubbing and drying pots was one of the most fun nights of my entire life.

"I did," I replied, playfully bumping Ian with my arm. "You were right. I should've done this immediately. Just wish my damned anxiety didn't get in the way..."

"You think it'll get better? Now that we're all on the same page?"

"Everyone except Frank," I muttered. "Fiona mentioned what went down between him and Sammi before he told her." I shuddered. "Guess I'm not as fucked up as I thought, although Lip and I were further in than that, but still..."

Ian sighed. "Maybe when Frank's been sober for more than two minutes," he replied.

I nodded. "You'll let me know," I say, flashing him a smile. I reach into the sink and grab another massive plate, picking up the scrubbing implements and continuing with the washing. "I don't know. It's all very new to me..."

"Washing dishes?" Ian asked. "Did you have a dishwasher in the house, or a maid?"

"Housekeeper," I replied, and Ian gave me a look. "No, I'm not kidding. Once Dr. Normal had my I.Q. tested, he knew that my education was a serious business. Had me devote my entire free time to extracurricular activities that would benefit my chances of getting into a top university and excellent law firm."

"You got your I.Q. tested?"

"Dr. Normal arranged it, but I was tested, yeah."

"How'd you do?"

I smirked. "I barely glanced at the paper. I think Dr. Normal was disappointed that I didn't get a higher score, but I think I did pretty well for actively not making an effort..."

"Come on," Ian said, a laugh at the back of his voice. "What was the number?"

"142," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "140 is considered a genius, so if I got a 142 without even trying, imagine what could happen if I actually did," I said, purposefully sounding condescending.

"What's with the voice?"

"That's what Dr. Normal said to my mother when the results came back," I replied, scrubbing the plate harder to drive out the sound of his stupid voice in my ear. "The bastard thought I should be fucking grateful..."

"Scar!" Ian cried out, prying the plate from my hands before I could manage to break it. "Sit down," he said, waiting for me to wash my hands before I did so.

"I want to help—"

"No," Ian said firmly. "I can finish these up. You sit down and rest."

I moved slowly over to the kitchen table, perching on the edge of the seat, barely watching Ian doing the rest of the dishes. "I really did want to help," I whispered.

Ian looked over his shoulder at me for a moment. "It's okay," he assured me. He picked up a final pot before cleaning it, setting it on the counter to dry before washing his hands and striding over to the table. He sat across from me, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one up. "Just be calm, Scar. It's okay."

"Murphy..."

"What?" he asked.

I looked up at him, reaching out and taking the cigarette away from him, relieved when he didn't protest that time. "Might as well get used to it," I tell him. "Murph sounds way more like me, anyhow. I emailed Allie—one of my bosses—at work, and told her I was making the change. It was so nice of her to offer to make the work arrangements for me..."

"You always sound agitated whenever you talk about Dr. Normal," Ian said quietly after a moment, as I handed the cigarette back to him. "I can't... Well, I'm wondering why. Did he do something to hurt you?"

I scoff, throwing myself back in the chair. "Oh, I don't know. Other than brainwashing my mother against me..." I shrugged. "Convincing her that I was inferior, based on me being adopted, I don't fucking know..." I hesitated for a moment, waiting for Ian to hand the cigarette back to me. "It was all going to be fucked, one way or another, once Martin left," I replied. "He went to conquer his dream, breaking my mom's heart, and leaving her stuck with a child she thought she wanted..."

"You don't think she wanted you?"

"I think she wanted the idea of me," I reply, shaking my head, taking a mighty puff upon the cigarette as I thought it over. "Husband, fucking picket fence, two-point-five kids... She liked the idea, but once she became a single mother of a girl..."

"What?" Ian asked.

I handed the cigarette back to him. "Once Martin left, there was no hope for the adoption to keep succeeding. Martin chose the big time, and Tina chose to upgrade—in her view—to a more practical husband, and get some real kids."

"And Dr. Normal?"

I scoffed at that. "He's a son of a bitch."

"Why?"

I sighed, putting my head in my hands. "You remember Jessica?" I asked. "The closest thing I had to a friend?"

"Yeah," Ian replied.

I looked up at him. "It wasn't like that... I mean, she was a friend, of course, but she wasn't...just a friend," I replied.

Ian raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Once, during one of the family vacations, I invited Jessica over," I replied. "It was in the middle of summer, and my debate finals were pushed forward a week. I had some time to kill, so we went to the theater in the house to watch some chick flicks..."

"What happened?" Ian asked.

"Jess told me she was gay," I replied. "I told her it didn't matter to me, and then she kissed me. I hadn't kissed anyone before, and you know when it's something new and you just want to dive on in?"

"Sure."

"Well, I did," I replied. "It was only with Jess, though. I mean, I've never thought about any other girls that way, and I'd never even thought about it until it was presented to me..."

"Did you two...?"

I nodded. "Yeah. A few times. But never...you know," I said, showing him with my hands, and he laughed. "We were sixteen, and I didn't want her to, but she wanted me to, you know? So I guess I was the aggressor in that department—I don't know..."

"How does Dr. Normal come into play?" Ian asked.

"He had security cameras in the house," I replied. "He asked about us kissing, because that's all we did that day. I said we were practicing, and he didn't care. Well, at least I thought he didn't care, until..."

"What?"

I sighed. "I may have taken her to my room, and he walked in when I was...you know," I replied, flushing to my ears.

Ian leaned forward. "You're kidding."

I shook my head. "No. I was seventeen—I was in college already, but Jess was a senior in high school at the time. Dr. Normal dragged Jessica out of the house, throwing her out with her clothes..."

Ian gripped the edge of the table, the cigarette apparently forgotten. "What the hell did he do to you?" he demanded, through his teeth.

I sighed, lowering my eyes as the tears fell. "He took off his belt and...beat me with it...with the buckle...when I was naked..."

"Jesus Christ!"

I shook my head. "Even after that, I risked seeing Jess. I don't think I was in love with her, but I do know that I felt love from her, and since I wasn't getting that at home, I wanted it from someone, anyone..."

"Murph?"

I raised my eyes, knowing I'd have to get used to the name. "Yeah?"

He handed over the cigarette to me. "It wasn't your fault."

I lowered my eyes, inhaling on the cigarette and shaking my head. "It's odd, really. Despite everything he put me through..."

"What?"

I leaned forward then, feeling anxious all over again as the cigarette created a plume of silver smoke in the air from its end. "Lip...spanked me once and I..."

"Liked it?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"I don't think that's so unusual, but I'm not a doctor."

I shrugged. "I should know more, but I don't. I tended to stay more on the outside looking in when it came to psychology. My professors always wanted me to go in deeper, but I was afraid of the feelings that would crop up..."

"We don't have to talk about it anymore, Murph."

I nodded, relieved. "Thanks," I replied, puffing on the cigarette one more time before handing it back to Ian. "I'd like not to."

"How do you like your apartment?"

I laughed. "Great segue," I said. "Um, I guess it's okay... Why?"

"No, it's just that you told me your landlord was kind of a douchebag."

I blinked. "Yeah, I did say that," I replied.

"Well, we've got an extra room here," Ian replied. "I don't know, I mean, if you wanted to come and live with us..."

I got up then and threw my arms around him. "You're amazing!" I cried. "Yes, please. And I'd love to help any way I can. I'm sure that I'd be able to...you know, help," I said, pulling back and smiling at him.

Ian nodded. "Yeah, you can help," he said with a smirk. "And hey, why don't we pack up your shit tomorrow and just bring it over this weekend?"

"Man, my landlord is going to throw a shit fit," I said, snagging the cigarette back. "But I could give a fuck what's up his ass."

"Great," Ian said. "I'll come over tomorrow and help you pack."

I handed the cigarette back to him. "Deal," I replied.

. . .

The weekend flew by, and Ian and I managed to pack up my entire apartment in just one day, and I also managed to get the paperwork done and all turned in. I returned my apartment key to my landlord on Sunday, and although he was a douchebag, he did seem to be relieved to be rid of me once and for all. On Monday, we were all up around the same time, running around to get ready for the day ahead.

"Want me to drop Liam off?" I asked Ian.

"You have time?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I have that doctor's appointment, but not until eleven."

"I thought that the chicken was undercooked the other night..."

I fixed Ian with a look. "It was not undercooked—maybe just expired," I said, rolling my eyes at him as I looked down at Liam, eating some toast. "Hey, little man," I said, crouching beside his chair and smiling at him. "Want me to drive you to school?"

Liam grinned. "Yeah!" he cried.

"I'll write a note—they can get pretty strict over there," Ian replied.

"Thanks," I said, flashing him a smile as I gathered my papers into my briefcase. "So glad I don't have to deal with the d-bag anymore," I said, whispering the offending word. "He was beginning to get on my nerves."

Ian smirked, signing the note hand handing it back to me with a prompt flourish. "Well, glad I could help."

I walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "You always help," I told him with a smile before turning to Liam. "Okay, little man—we'd better hurry if you want to get to school on time. Do you have everything?"

Once I got Liam dropped off at school, I hurried to the office to work for two hours before my appointment with Dr. Fairfax. I'd been feeling queasy all weekend, and I was hoping it wasn't the flu, because sentencing was coming up in the Johnny Sanders case, and it all hinged on Nicholas's and my interview with Jasmine Jones. Rachel gave me my messages as per usual, and I headed directly to my office, relieved that I didn't see Nicholas, for now was not the time for a booty call.

I went through all my messages, calling back the important ones and moving the unimportant ones to the bottom of the pile. Rolling my shoulders, I attempted to plow through my tasks that morning, but the throbbing in my head was making it more difficult to do so. Rolling my eyes, when it got to be ten-thirty, I gave up and left the office early, even though the doctor's office was only five minutes away. I was tempted to walk, but I was so physically exhausted that I decided to take my car.

When I arrived, I filled out the mandatory paperwork, and did my best to be nice to the nurse when she arrived to collect me. I explained my symptoms, and the nurse looked me over, a skeptical look in her eyes. I really didn't need that right now, especially after it being such a hectic last couple of days, that I fixed her with a look.

"What?" I demanded through my teeth.

"Have you been having sex, Miss Davies?" she asked.

"Gallagher," I whispered.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked.

"My name is Murphy Gallagher," I said, showing her my birth certificate and the temporary document I had, informing anyone who asked that I was just beginning the process of a permanent name change. "Please. Call me Miss Gallagher."

"O-okay fine, Miss Gallagher," the nurse said, touching her weave for a moment before looking down at the notes I'd written on my symptoms. "Now, I'll ask you again. Have you been having sex, Miss Gallagher?"

I sighed. "Yes," I replied.

"How many partners?"

I gritted my teeth. "Three," I replied.

"Were any times unprotected?"

I cleared my throat. "The first two times...may have been..."

"With different partners?"

"The fuck does it matter?!" I burst out. "It should say in my fucking paperwork that I can't get pregnant so why am I suddenly on trial here?!"

The nurse looked shocked for a moment before writing something down. "Yeah, I'm going to order some blood work done, see what we can do for you," she said, finishing her thought process before leaving the room.

"Oh, for the love of..." I muttered to myself.

I was summoned to the on-site lab within fifteen minutes, where they took six vials of my blood and I tried not to throw up on any of the technicians. I smiled fakely at all of them, just wanting answers as I tapped my feet impatiently. I was then returned to the waiting room, where I was told that Dr. Fairfax had put a rush on my blood order—as I was, apparently, considered a high-profile client—and would see me in her office shortly.

I pulled out my phone to pass the time, texting Ian about the blood work, and letting him know that I would tell him if I knew anything as soon as I heard anything. Ian texted me back, letting me know he appreciated me keeping in touch, and would see me at home later. I fumbled with it for a few moments to distract myself, but eventually putting it away, the task of distraction having failed. I'd been so desperate for answers over the past month, I'd constantly felt like I was standing at a crossroads, and now, after all this time, here I was again.

I was called back to Dr. Fairfax's office within the hour, and felt relieved as I crossed the threshold and into the space. I waited until I was given permission to sit down and stood there for a moment, seeing the folder with my name on it in front of her. I was pleased that she'd gotten the note, as there was a white sticker with MURPHY GALLAGHER written on it, blotting out my adopted name.

"Well, Murphy," Dr. Fairfax said. "Why don't you sit?"

I sat down then, perching on the edge of my seat, hands folded in my lap as I anxiously sat there waiting for her to talk. When she didn't, I thought I might say something, anything to ease the awkward silence between us. "Hey, Dr. Fairfax. Everything okay?"

"Well, I'm sure it will be, eventually," Dr. Fairfax said, opening the folder.

"What?" I asked, leaning forward, but couldn't make anything out other than medical terms I'd never heard of—plus, it was all upside-down to me.

"Murphy, did you know you were pregnant?" Dr. Fairfax asked, looking up at me then, her eyes slightly annoyed, as if I'd lied to her about being unable to have children.

I sat there for a moment, wondering how I was going to get out of this mess. There were only two possibilities of a father, that much I knew, and either one was a death sentence for my unborn child. As I mulled it over then, I methodically found myself lowering my eyes and placing my hand upon my belly—not even swollen yet—and felt tears forming in my eyes for the millionth time that week.

"Murphy?" Dr. Fairfax said, her voice nearly a bark.

I looked up at her then, shaking my head. "Pregnant?" I whispered.

TO BE CONTINUED