Hey everyone! So, first thing first, I am deeply sorry for being awol there for a while. I have been working on my first novel which I am publishing! If anyone wants the details on it please DM me. Now, for all my followers who normally read me for my Kdrama fics, I have not given up on those! I promise. But I fell down the Gallavich rabbit hole and decided I NEEDED more of an overprotective, husband Mickey!

Last but not least, if you were following When the Rose Meets a Nut, you will notice I deleted it. I'M SO SORRY to do that to you all but I was writing that story during my breakup and honestly, I've hit a wall with it. So, there was no way I was going to be able to finish it. At least not right now. Hopefully, someday I will be able to get back to it but I didn't feel it was right to keep it half-finished. Now, for Gallavich!

As always, I own nothing of my own.

"Hey," Mickey came down the stairs with a slightly concerned look. "Has anyone seen Ian?"

"No," Lip looked up from his coffee with a shrug. "But doesn't he usually get up at the crack ass of dawn to go running or something?"

"He's usually back by now though." Mickey checked the time. "He's going to be late for work."

"I'm sure he will turn up." Debbie stood up and gestured for Franny. "Time for school. Let's go."

Franny grumbled something under her breath which caused Mickey to grin. While he would probably never be described as a kid person to anybody, he did love this little heathen in the making."

"Bye Uncle Lip." Franny called and Lip kissed the top of her head as she went by. "Be good."

"Boring."

Mickey laughed as Debbie scooped her up and took the high-five she was offering. "See you later, kiddo."

"Kay." Franny paused for a second before turning to her mom curiously. "I know you said not to tell Uncle Lip about the boy kissing me but can I tell Uncle Mickey?"

"What?" Lip and Mickey yelled together, and Debbie pursed her lips in slight amusement. "No, remember… I specifically said not to tell Uncle Mickey too."

"You told her–" Lip glared at his younger sister. "Don't tell her not to tell me shit, Debs!"

"Me either." Mickey snapped as he went to grab his jacket. "Let me grab my gun and I will drop her off at preschool with you."

"Why? So, you can threaten the four-year-old?"

Mickey stopped and gave her a pointed stare. "Exactly."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "You're both idiots."

"We're not done talking about this," Lip yelled after her before giving a long groan. "Fuck. Boys are already coming around Franny. I better get bail money prepared between you and Ian."

"Very funny."

Mick looked at the watch again. "I've got to get to the Albi. Let me know if you hear from Ian."

"Yep."

When 1:00 a clock rolled by and still no word from Ian, Mickey decided to swing by the house. "I swear if he's just in there on the fucking couch, I am ripping his nuts off."

Lip shook his head when Mickey walked in. "I can't reach him. And the clinic called, he never reported to work today."

Mickey's stomach dropped. Ian had managed to land a job at a local clinic checking in patients, rolling them down for their tests and stuff. It was a far cry from his former EMT days but he was enjoying at least being at the hospital again. Plus, it kept his PO happy and off his back. He wouldn't just not show up and risk losing it.

"Mick," Lip asked quietly. "Is he taking his meds?"

Mickey didn't answer but simply strolled into the kitchen and yanked open the cabinet worriedly. He grabbed the pills and looked inside. "Only three left and he's due for a new bottle in a few days."

Relief flashed over Lip's face, "Okay, so if he's not having an episode, where the hell is he?"

"I don't know."

"Fuck."

He nodded in agreement and grabbed his phone to call him again when he noticed a strange number calling. "Shit."

"What?"

Mickey shot him a pointed look as he answered it. "Yes?"

"Mickey Milkovich?"

"Who's asking?"

"I'm trying to reach a family member of Ian Gallagher. He has you listed as an emergency contact in his wallet."

Mickey straightened in new fear. "He's my husband. Who is this?"

"I'm a nurse at the General Hospital emergency room." She paused before continuing quickly. "It looks like Mr. Gallagher has been attacked."

"Attacked?" Mickey snapped furiously. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"He was found only about a half hour ago. But it…it doesn't look good."

He stumbled slightly and Lip grabbed his arm. "Mickey what the fuck–"

"You should probably get here." The nurse finished softly. "But I need your consent if you want us to resuscitate if–"

"What the fuck are you saying to me?" Mickey gasped furiously. "What–"

"Sir, he's in surgery now. And if it looks like he's not –"

"Fuck!" Mickey shouted over her. "Yes, fucking resuscitate him!".

Lip yanked the phone away from him with a long snarl. He barked over the phone but Mickey couldn't understand him. There was only loud static in his ears and his body didn't seem to be responding to any commands.

"Mickey, " Lip snapped as he shook him slightly. "We have to get to the hospital. Find out what the hell is going on."

This woke him up and they ran to the car. Lip drove like a madman to the hospital and Mickey didn't even wait until the car finished rolling before he was out and running to the desk. "Ian Gallagher."

"Who?" The blonde bitch asked in boredom causing Mickey's teeth to grit painfully together. "Ian Gallagher. My husband. The one you all just called me to tell me had been attacked like it was nothing more than–"

"Mr. Milkovich," a voice called and hurried over. "I spoke to you on the phone."

"Where's my husband?"

"He's in surgery."

"Why?" Mickey snarled. "A broken leg? What?"

"It's more serious than that. He was bleeding internally and has... Well, let's just say he has more broken bones right now than not."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The police will explain more." She told him before just walking off and he could feel his brain snap. "You tell me my husband is in surgery after being attacked and then just fucking walk away like it's nothing!"

"Mickey," Lip grabbed him before he did something to get arrested. "Come on. Sit."

"I'm not fucking sitting" Mickey yelled, yanking his arm away. "I want someone to tell me what the hell happened to Ian!"

"Mickey Milkovich?"

He turned to find an officer approaching him. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I'm Officer Daniels," he said bluntly, not seeming to mind the anger. " I am the one who responded to the scene."

"What scene?"

"Some joggers found your husband. Looks like he was running and was jumped. They dumped his body under the bridge."

Mickey rubbed his hands over his face as Lip stepped up. "How bad was it?"

"Not going to lie," the officer told him with a sigh. "I have no idea how he's still alive. His ribs are busted and his right leg looks mangled. Plus, just a hell of an overall beating."

"Fuck," Lip said shakily while Mickey just nodded with a deadly smirk. "Okay. Okay."

"I will say from the state of Mr. Gallagher's hands, he put up a hell of a fight back but there must have been too many of them."

Mickey barked a laugh that sent a chill down Lip's spine. He quickly distracted Daniels so he wouldn't realize he had just sent Mickey on a bloodthirsty murdering spree all over Chicago.

"I have to ask," the officer turned to Mick. "Does Mr. Gallagher have any enemies? Someone from prison who might –"

"Fuck no," Mickey snapped over him. "They fucking loved him. He was their personal mother hen."

"Someone connected to his father? I know Frank Gallagher makes enemies who might try to take something out on one of his kids."

"I'm Philip Gallagher," Lip said with a worried snap. "Liam is my brother. Frank is a douchebag and capable of a lot of shit, but I don't think anyone would kill Ian to get to him."

"Then, we may have to consider this a hate crime." Officer Daniels sighed. "I will let you know what we find but without witnesses or Mr. Gallagher's testimony, we don't have much to go on."

The two men didn't respond and he nodded in understanding. "I will be in touch."

He left quietly and Lip stared at Mickey who was silently staring at the wall. "I texted the others. They are on their way."

Mickey didn't answer and Lip knew better than to push.

A doctor approached sadly. "Are you Mr. Gallagher's husband?"

"Yes," Mickey said quickly. "How is he?"

"We should sit down."

"Why does everyone keep telling me to sit down," Mickey shouted in fury. " I don't want to god damned sit down. I want to know about Ian."

"He's bad."

At the blunt statement, Mickey felt all the fury leave him and replaced it with abject horror. "How bad?"

"His left lung was punctured by one of his broken ribs. So, we have him on a ventilator to help him breathe. He was bleeding internally which is why we had to do immediate surgery. But because of how long he was bleeding before he was found, I don't know if he will recover."

"Are you saying he might die?" Lip demanded and the doctor nodded sadly. "I'm saying you should probably prepare yourselves for the worst right now."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Mickey gasped. "It's your fucking job to keep him alive!"

"We're doing everything we can," they tried to assure. "But even if he manages to recover from the bleeding, he will have a long road to recovery. Bruised kidneys and multiple bones were broken including his leg which will require surgery once he's able to breathe on his own and believe he can survive it. Then physical therapy."

"I don't give a shit about physical therapy!"

"Mick," Lip said softly, tears streaking down his face. " He's saying that's only if Ian even makes–"

"I know what the fuck he's saying," Mickey yelled over him. "Fuck you. He's not dying! You're not letting my husband fucking die!"

"We'll do what we can," The doctor told him solemnly. "You can see him for a little bit if you want but you might want to prepare yourself."

Mickey didn't answer but simply followed him to the doors and gestured impatiently. The doctor exchanged looks with Lip before swiping his card. "He's in room eleven."

He hurried down the hall and seeing the number, he quickly pushed open the door and almost stumbled to the floor. Ian was hooked up to dozens of machines, a breathing tube was down his throat and the only part that was not beaten black and blue was his stupid fucking red hair that Mick loved so much.

He covered his mouth as he slowly approached the bed, his eyes burning with tears as he gazed upon Ian. "Fuck, baby."

Mickey was afraid to touch him. The fear of his skin being cold was enough to make him collapse. He reached a trembling hand out to touch his cheek and the feel of slight warmth sent a gasp through his body.

He lowered his head to his shoulder, "I leave you alone for five minutes and you get in trouble."

The rhythmic sound of his machine's beeping was the only reply he received in reply. "Never thought I would say this but if you could wake up and nag me about some shit, I would fucking kiss you for it."

The silence weighed on him and he could feel his tears soaking into Ian's shoulder. He lifted his head and gazed down at Gallagher. His eyes were black and swollen shut. His cheeks were cracked and so swollen, he could barely recognize him. His left leg was in a thick cast and Mickey could see the bandages wrapped tight around his ribs.

"Mr. Milkovich," a voice called softly and Mickey whirled around, blocking Ian with his body protectively. "Who are you?"

"Nurse Baker," the older woman smiled understandably, "I am here to change his I.V. Is that okay?"

He hesitated for a moment before nodding shortly. She approached slowly and Mickey stepped closer to Ian, not trusting anyone near him right now. The nurse didn't seem to mind the rough around the edges south-side thug hovering or at least didn't appear to be nervous by the obvious energy that if she so much as fucked up a single touch, he would snap her like a twig.

"Would you like a chair or anything," She asked Mickey quietly as she replaced Ian's bag. "They won't let you stay all night due to him being in intensive care but visiting hours are for at least a few more hours."

Mickey clenched his jaw as he glared at her. "The first person who tries to make me leave him gets every bone in their hand fucking broken."

"I will pass along the message."

The room was dark as Mickey sat beside Ian, his hand resting within his tightly. The others had come and had been horrified at seeing their brother this way. And then when the doctors asked if they had funeral preparation for Ian, they had broken down in hysteria. Mickey on the other hand had simply told the doctor to go fuck himself and the next time he asked him a question like that, he would take that shiny pen and shove it up his ass. Which is when Kevin quickly intervened so he didn't get arrested.

So, finally, Lip told Debbie to take Liam and Franny home. And since only one person was allowed in the room at a time, and Mickey refused to leave Ian, Lip, Kevin, and Vi were currently forced to camp out in the waiting room.

Mickey stared down at Ian. His machine that registered his heartbeat was beeping steadily. Which was the only reassurance Mickey had that he was even still alive. A blood-thirsty rage was pulsating through him. He had not sacrificed years of pushing Ian away to protect them from his asshole father just to lose him now. He didn't know who had attacked him or why but the only reason Mickey was not out there putting a bullet through their heads was his need to be here to see Ian wake up. After that, all bets were off.

"Mr. Milkovich," A voice called abruptly, and he snapped his head to the door with a furious glare. After the third attempt of them telling him visiting hours were over and Mickey almost breaking the arm of the orderly who had made the grave mistake of touching him, the doctor had declared special circumstances for him to stay overnight.

"What?"

"I am here to check on him."

He didn't wait for Mickey to answer before strolling in and began aggressively grabbing at his I.V. bag and stabbing him with a long ass needle to draw blood.

"Easy," Mickey snapped protectively. "He's been through enough without you beating on him too."

"It's not like he can feel it anyway."

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him. "Keep talking bitch."

"Whatever, man. Do you mind if I finish my job now?"

He clenched his jaw tightly in order not to punch him since he currently had a needle in his husband's arm. "Make it quick."

"Not my fault that some mental crackhead pisses someone off and gets himself put into a coma."

"What the fuck did you just say?"

The man blinked up at him, his mouth opening slightly in alarm. "Did I just say that out loud?"

Mickey walked over to him, his arm stretched to the door. "Get the fuck out."

"Sir–"

Mickey grabbed the front of his shirt, and even though this kid was probably closer to Ian's height than his, he lifted him onto his toes since the guy was nothing but fucking weakling. "You ever talk about him like that again, I will make sure you never speak again, Mother fucker."

He threw him out the door and watched his body bounce to the floor. The nurses looked up in horror but the man quickly held up his hand. "It's nothing. Don't worry."

"Keep him the fuck away from my husband," Mickey demanded viciously. "I don't want to see him again."

He slammed the door shut behind him, breathing heavily, and laid his face on cool wood. "Shit."

Mickey didn't handle it well when people talked about Ian on good days. Let alone when he was terrified with each breath that he had just taken his last.

Mickey shifted uncomfortably with a groan. "Fucking idiot. Can't go to sleep because he's not home yet. Fucking pussy."

He couldn't believe he was being such a girl. Ian had to take the night shift at the hospital tonight since everyone was required to do one once a month. And apparently, Mickey could no longer sleep without his snoring in his ear. Which he would rather chew off his tongue than ever actually admit it to Ian.

He looked at the clock and rolled his eyes at the relief he felt when he saw that Ian was due home any minute. "When did you give him your balls, Milkovich?"

Not wanting Ian to catch him sitting up waiting for him like a pathetic bitch, he grabbed his phone and began randomly piddling with games.

He heard the door open and he inwardly smiled as Ian tried to be quiet but could hear him cursing under his breath as he tripped over Carl's shoes for the fifth time this week. He was still grumbling and threatening his brother when he slowly crept into the bedroom.

Seeing the light on and Mickey sitting up in bed, Ian's shoulders relaxed. "Hey."

"Hey."

"What are you still doing awake?"

"Lost track of time," Mickey lied holding up his phone with a shrug. "How was work?"

Ian shrugged, and he noticed how dark his eyes were sending a tingle of warning through him. "You alright?"

"Just tired," Ian yawned as he stripped down and climbed into bed with a low moan. "Thank fuck."

Mickey moved his arm as Ian pressed his face into his side, his body softening instantly. He smiled as he played his game, one hand stroking Ian's hair. Not sure how on earth he became someone's safe place but knowing he was that for Ian felt like he had made up for some of the violence he wore on his hands.

He felt Ian sigh heavily, "Mr. Parker died today."

Mickey looked down at Ian who was still tucked up against him. Mr. Parker was an old guy at the hospital that Ian would visit with regularly on his shifts. He was some former Navy dude and would tell him stories about his time serving.

"You okay?" Mickey asked quietly, knowing that Ian tended to take things like that hard. He was still healing from Monica's passing and had only recently confessed about the whole digging her up for the meth fuck-up that still gave him nightmares sometimes.

"Yeah," Ian said softly. "He was tired of being in pain." He shifted for a second before lifting his head to look at Mickey. "If I tell you something, do you promise not to get mad?"

Mickey raised his eyebrow at him. "Depends on what you're about to fucking tell me."

"I actually knew Mr. P before working at the hospital."

Mickey stared at him suspiciously and Ian rolled his eyes. "No, I never slept with him."

"Just checking. You did have a grandpa fetish thing going on for a while."

"Oh fuck off."

He grinned slightly at this before tugging on Ian's head slightly. "Why would that piss me off then?"

Ian hesitated slightly before getting off the bed with a sigh and going to the closet. He pulled down a letter tucked behind some clothes and handed it to Mickey who took it with a frown.

"What the hell is this?"

"Your letter."

"Okay…" Mickey said slowly, "And why do I need a letter?"

"I wrote it and then went to the Southside bridge," Ian said quietly. "I planned on downing a bottle of pills and was going to jump."

Mickey stared at him for a minute, his eyes hardening in warning. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Ian hurried on to explain understanding he was about to blow up. "This was a few months after I left you at the border. I came home and then the whole Monica shit happened, and I could feel my bipolar screwing with me and I just couldn't… I couldn't go through that again, Mick.

"What the fuck, Ian?"

Hearing the tremble in his voice, Ian came and sat down beside him again, taking his hand. "You don't understand what my bipolar is like sometimes. When I am low, it's like the entire world is in black and white. I can't feel anything or even see people. Their faces are blank to me and people I have known my entire life are complete strangers. And then I will wake up and in an instant I am in some technicolor dream. Everything is moving too fast and I can feel everything all at once. It's excruciating and I need an anchor to hold on to until it passes. And at that moment, I didn't have one," Ian gave him a sad smile. "Because I had left him in Mexico."

Mickey looked at the letter in his hand, his name written sloppily, and felt his stomach rolling in rage and terror.

"Okay, and what does this have to do with the old guy?"

"He stopped me."

Mickey snapped his head up in surprise. "What?"

"I was sitting on the ledge, holding the pills, and was about to swallow them when I heard this voice call out to me." Ian said with a chuckle. "He was so oddly casual about it too. He was just like… Before you go, can I borrow a cigarette?"

"A fucking cigarette? That's what stopped you?"

"For a minute. I gave it to him and he leaned up against the rail next to me smoking quietly, I couldn't jump with him there so I was waiting… Getting more and more frustrated because he wouldn't fucking leave. And just when I was about to tell him to fuck off, he said something to me, I will never forget. He said he wouldn't tell me not to do it but just make sure that I didn't do anything that I wouldn't want to witness as a ghost."

"A ghost?" Mickey said blankly and Ian nodded.

"You know, if I jumped and came back as a ghost. Would I be okay watching everything happen without me? Would I be okay seeing my family go to the funeral and their devastation? Would I be okay watching Frannie go on her first date with some douchebag and I wasn't there to scare the shit out of the kid? Or see Liam get into college? That kind of thing. He said if I was okay witnessing all that but not able to be a part of it, then go ahead and jump."

Ian smiled slightly at the memory. "I realized that would be torture for me, so I climbed down. We talked for a little bit and then I went home. Slept for a couple of days, went to the shrink, and got back on track. Well, for the most part until you know… the whole prison thing."

He squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I didn't tell you before because I didn't want you to worry. I've never had thoughts like that again and I know now to talk to you if I start getting bad."

"You better," Mickey snapped at him. "And if you ever start fucking thinking about–"

"I know," Ian interrupted softly. "I will. I promise."

He glared at him for a minute before nodding shortly and stuck out the letter sharply. "Fucking get rid of this thing."

Ian grinned as he tossed it into the trash. "Better?"

"Whatever," Mickey growled, running his hand through his hair before sighing heavily, glancing down at Ian who was now laying down beside him again. "But you're good?"

"Yeah, Mick," Ian assured him knowingly. "I'm good."

Mickey nodded and reached over to turn out the light. He laid down next to him and was relieved when he felt Ian's arm encircle him. The warmth of his body against his back and the familiar press of his lips on his shoulder.

"When's the funeral?"

"What?"

"Old guy Parker's funeral," Mickey said quietly. "When is it? I want to go."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I need to pay my respects to the man who saved my husband's ass."

"Well, I do have a nice ass."

Mickey lifted his head to glare as Ian simply gave him a grin over his shoulder. "Don't be a bitch."

"I'm sorry," Ian told him with another kiss. "I will find out when it is, okay?"

Mickey nodded and tried to relax to fall enough to fall asleep but he was still processing what Ian had just told him. His stomach rolled with horror at the idea of getting that fucking letter and having to read it after Ian was already dead and nothing he could do about it would be like getting shot all over again.

"Mick," Ian said quietly, breaking through the tense silence.

"What?" Mickey snapped slightly, not really in the mood for any more jokes.

"I'm sorry."

This caused some of the anger to leave him. He knew Ian didn't apologize any easier than he did and only did it when he was truly sorry. Mickey rolled to face him, his hand coming up to rest on his hip as he tugged him closer. "Fucking scared the shit out of me."

"I know." Ian pressed his lips to his hairline. "I stopped Mick. Not just for the reasons, I mentioned earlier but the thought of you coming back and me not being here… Of not being with you. That's what really made me stop."

"Fucking idiot." Mickey sighed and cupped his face bringing it down for a kiss. "You ever fucking try something like that again Gallagher, I will put you in a fucking wheelchair."

"So, you can top me whenever you want?"

"Exactly." Mickey grinned at him before sobering slightly. "You're not allowed to die on me, Gallagher. So, if you ever start thinking about doing that shit again, you fucking tell me. Understand?"

"Yeah, Mick," Ian said quietly. "I promise."

"You better," Mickey growled still slightly pissed but leaned up to kiss him once more.

Ian smiled and tugged him back into his spot, pressing up against him as he hugged him tightly from behind. "Go to sleep, you fucking pussy who can't even sleep without me now."

"I fucking lost track of time!"

"Uh-uh."

Now Mickey could only stare down at him in the hospital bed, his body so beaten it was hard to look at him. And the idea of someone making light of his bipolar without knowing how hard Ian had fought to conquer his disease was enough to make Mickey put his hand down their throat to remove their spinal cord.

He heard the rhythmic beating of his machines and he could feel the slow glide of tears running down his face.

"Don't you fucking break your promise to me, Gallagher," Mickey leaned over him, his teeth clenched as he stroked his hair. "You hear me? Wake the fuck up, Ian."

At the lack of response, he kicked the bed, not even caring that the bed rolled slightly. Too incensed with fear and grief. "You fucking bitch. You promised."

"Mickey," a voice called sharply but he ignored it and kept shaking the rails on the bed. "You fucking promised, Gallagher."

"Mickey," Lip suddenly appeared next to him, grabbing to yank him away, not even flinching at the blows as Mickey beat on his back. "It's alright. It's alright."

"He fucking promised," Mickey snapped thickly, falling to the floor. "He promised me."

"I know," Lip sat down next to him, resting his hand on his shoulder, meeting Kevin's worried gaze who was standing in the doorway. "Take care of the doctors. Make sure they don't come in for a while."

"Yeah, I'm on it."

Lip waited until they were alone before whispering. "He's not dead yet, Mickey. Alright?"

Mickey didn't respond and Lip sighed. "Look, why don't you go home and get some sleep? I will stay with Ian–"

"No," Mickey snarled. "I'm not leaving."

"Well, at least go downstairs and get yourself some fucking food or something."

Mickey glared at him and Lip rolled his eyes. "Five minutes, alright. Get some food and clear your head. Then you can come back and beat the rest of the shit out of your husband for getting himself half-killed on you."

"Fuck you," Mickey told him but he slowly got up and went to the door. "And if that one asshole nurse wants to press charges for throwing his ass out, tell him if I ever see his face again, I will give him a real reason to fucking press charges."

Lip rolled his eyes as he finally left. The nurses had run down to get him and Kevin earlier saying that Mickey was losing it and had actually tried to hurt a fellow nurse who was simply checking on Ian, but given his statement just now, Lip had a feeling there was more to it.

He turned to the bed and his gaze fell on his younger brother who was barely recognizable as Ian, he felt his own grief rush in. "Fuck, Ian." He ran a hand shakily over his head and whispered painfully. "You can't do this to him, you know. He won't survive it."

Lip looked over at the machines with a painful tug, knowing the only half-decent Gallagher was slowly fading from them.

"None of us will."