Hey Guys! So, here is the next chapter. And while I did change a few things in the timeline of the show for story purposes, I am trying to stick to the general timing of things. Also, I wanted to show the softer, more stable side of Ian and Mickey's marriage. Along with Mickey's natural protective side when it comes to Ian. So, this chapter does have more flashbacks scenes due to me setting up their story arc and foreshadowing what is to come.

Let me know what you think!

It was that time of night when everything just became quiet. No noise, no traffic, no talking. It was just the night and whispers of breathing.

Mickey sat beside Ian, his eyes never leaving his battered face. After he had calmed down from his momentary moment of insanity, Lip had brought him some sweats from home and he was settling in for a very long night. The one Nurse who had not completely pissed him off told him that the first night was the riskiest for critical patients.

Refusing to think about that for more than a few minutes since it tended to make him homicidal. Instead, he was just talking randomly to Ian if for no other reason so he didn't have to hear the fucking beeping of his heart monitor. And the pure fear of suddenly not being able to hear it all at the same time.

Lip had always brought some clothes for Ian to change into once he was awake. "That's my hoodie," Mickey told him quietly. "Not Ian's."

"Oh sorry. It was in Ian's drawer."

"I thought I lost it", Mickey took it carefully from him. "He must have stolen it."

"It smells like you," Liam interrupted softly. "It comforts him. He told me once that whenever he has a bad day mentally, he grabs your hoodie. It calms him down."

Mickey felt his throat clog slightly, remembering a certain time when he lay on the floor hugging Ian's jacket. "Yeah," he said huskily. "Well, I guess he can keep it then."

Lip looked at him for a second before clearing his throat and rubbing Ian's head. "Come on kiddo. We'll check on Ian in the morning, okay?"

"Okay."

Mickey placed the hoodie next to Ian. "Of course, you would steal my fucking favorite."

He sat down in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair and sighed as he took Ian's hand. "Fucking thief."

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he spoke solemnly to him. "I am going to kill them. You know that don't you? I don't care who it is or even why they attacked you. I am going to find them and put a bullet in each of their heads."

He rubbed his thumb over Ian's knuckles, feeling the deep stitches poking him from where his skin had split over their teeth. "And I swear to god if it was an old order from Terry–" Mickey broke off, shaking his head. "Nevermind."

Forcing himself away from that direction, he smiled gently. Hey, remember when I finally got your white ass to the beach? I drank tequila for three hours while you played in the water until you shrunk like a prune."

Mickey chuckled slightly at the memory. "We were just at the lake and you still burned like a motherfucker. I am going to have to bury you in sunscreen once I get your ass to a real beach. Not Mexico though, for obvious reasons."

When he wasn't greeted with his usual response of Ian rolling his eyes at him or calling him an asshole, his stomach fell. "Fuck, Ian… I should have gone with you. I should have been there."

"Come on, Mick," Ian pouted playfully. "Come with me."

"Fuck no."

"Why not?"

"Because I am not getting up at the crack ass of dawn to go fucking running," Mickey told him without even bothering to look up from his game. "I don't even know why you do it."

Ian gave a grin, and Mickey raised his eyebrow as he felt his husband crawl up the bed and straddle his legs. "And if I say please?"

"Still no," Mickey told him with a smirk. "But I am willing to pretend to negotiate with you."

Ian stuck his tongue at him and Mickey grinned. Ian was not overly playful in front of others. Affectionate, and loyal as fuck to the family. But the playful and cheeky side was something only Mickey got to experience.

"Come running with me and I will suck your dick."

"No, now you see," Mickey shook his head, putting his game down and resting his hands on Ian's hips. "You need to work on your negotiation tactics. You can't just go in for the kill from the offset."

"Oh, is that right?"

"Yeah, you got to build up to the blowjob."

"Okay…" Ian screwed up his face in pretend concentration. "Come running with me, and I will take your security shifts for the week."

"Well, now you aren't even trying." He smiled as Ian leaned down to kiss him softly.

"Come running with me."

"Nuh-uh." Mickey gestured to his face. "This… This needs beauty sleep."

"Will that help?"

Mickey pinched down hard on his side and Ian yelped with a chuckle. "Fine. But if I meet a cute fellow jogger on the trail who wants me to run off with him to Vegas, it's on you."

"If you do, they will find fucking Jimmy Hoffa's body before they find you, Gallagher."

"I think I could take you."

"Oh, you do, do you? Mickey grinned as Ian nodded emphatically. "Keep thinking that, lover."

Ian smiled before kissing him again. "Nevermind. Vegas boys are boring compared to the man I love threatening to bury me alive."

"And don't you forget it."

Ian laughed quietly, folding his arms over his chest with a tender stare and Mickey ran his hand over his side again. "You okay?"

Ian shrugged, "I just haven't seen you much lately. And I have to work nights at the hospital all of next week."

"What? Why?"

"Ramond is on vacation," Ian told him with a grin at Mickey's instant pout at the news. "So, they asked me to pick up his shifts since there is more coverage on days."

Mickey rolled his eyes. Ever since his parole officer helped him get the job at the hospital, Ian felt like he needed to constantly prove his worth. So, he would just agree and take every fucking shitty shift or job they asked him to do.

"Stop," Ian told him with a poke. "It's my job."

"Whatever," Mickey grumbled, but didn't stop stroking his side in the way Ian liked, so he knew he wasn't really mad. "Just don't–"

"I know," Ian assured him. "I will take my meds and make sure I am sleeping properly." He looked at his watch with a sigh. "Speaking of which, I should probably get some now if I am going to do that super fun run in the morning that SOMEONE insists on skipping."

"I would," Mickey told him seriously. "But I told Kevin I would swing by the Alibi early tomorrow and help him with the deposit from the weekend."

"It's okay," Ian assured him. "I will make it a short one and try to get back to at least have breakfast with you. And I want to spend some time with Franny since I won't be around much next week."

Mickey nodded but before Ian could climb off him, he grabbed his arm. "I will go running with you soon, I promise."

"It's okay, Mick," Ian told him and leaned down to give him a deep kiss. "Don't worry. I was just teasing."

"Nuh-uh. Come here," Mickey whispered as Ian tried to get up and tugged him back fully over him. "If you're going to be gone for a week, I am going to make up for it now."

Ian groaned quietly as he opened his mouth, his tongue wet and hot as he kissed him slowly. Mickey sank his fingers into his hair, holding him to him. He kissed him long and hard, letting the heat which always existed between them rise like a furnace. He traced his hand down to the base of his neck and feeling a strange lump, Mickey pulled away with a frown.

"What?" Ian asked breathlessly and Mickey pressed his fingers down lightly once more. "What is that?"

"What?"

"Turn around," Mickey demanded and Ian looked at him in disbelief. "You're kidding?"

"Just," he forced his head around and pushed up some of his hair, his eyes widening as he saw that it was a lump of scar tissue from what was a nasty gash.

"What the fuck?"

"What?" Ian snapped, getting a little impatient, and reached behind to feel it. "Oh, that. I got it a couple of years ago. It's fine. Just a deep cut that took forever to heal."

"It looks like someone tried to fucking take your head off with a beer bottle."

"Yeah, well…" Ian shrugged nonchalantly. "I went through some pretty messed up years there while you were gone. And some of my personal decisions weren't the best. I dated a guy for a while who was a little too possessive. And he didn't take it very well when I ended it."

Seeing Mickey's eyes going dark, Ian chuckled. "Really, Mick. It's not a big deal. I grew up with Frank as a father, I learned how to take a hit a long time ago."

"Shit, Gallagher." Mickey ran his hand over the back of his head again with a long growl. "What other kind of shit did you get into while I was in Mexico?"

"None I want to re-live," Ian told him with a small grin as he pressed Mickey into the bed, placing his hands on either side of his shoulders and boxing him in that possessive manner that never failed to make Mickey go hard.

"Now, do you want to keep chatting, or do you want to get on me?"

The memory faded from him and Mickey wiped the tear from his cheek. That had been almost a month ago and he had almost forgotten about it. "I still owe you that run."

"I think he needs a new hobby," Lip spoke up quietly from behind him and Mickey jumped slightly. "Mother Fucker."

"Sorry."

"What are you doing back here so soon?

"Couldn't sleep," Lip shrugged. "And it's around six."

"Shit," Mickey rubbed his face with a groan. "I didn't even notice."

"And the hospital doesn't seem to mind the only one person visiting at time rule right now since they are afraid of you after you wanted to break that nurse's face."

"I will break his face," Mickey snarled. "If I ever see him again."

"Yeah," Lip agreed as he pulled up the chair opposite him. "Any change?"

He shook his head, "his blood pressure dropped around midnight and they gave him something in the fucking I.V. but otherwise, no."

"He made it though," Lip reminded him. "He made it through the night, Mick."

"Yeah," Mickey said quietly. "That is something at least."

"The police came by this morning. Still no witnesses or at least any that are willing to talk to the cops."

"They don't have to talk to the cops," Mickey looked at him and Lip was concerned by the stone-cold gleam in his eyes. "They just have to talk to me."

"Mickey–"

"Did you know about an ex-boyfriend who beat Ian?"

Lip stared at him before saying slowly. "What?"

"Hit him over the head with a bottle," Mickey continued darkly. "He has a nasty scar on the back of his neck. Did you know?"

"No, I didn't know," Lip snapped angrily. "Do you think I would be sitting here and not in some fucking prison for murder if I knew about it? He's my fucking kid brother."

"Frank broke his nose when he was drunk once."

"And I knocked Frank's head against the fridge until there was a permanent dent in it the next day when I saw him," Lip snarled furiously. "I've protected him my whole fucking life, Mickey. I'm not stopping simply because he married your ass."

"Great," Mickey said knowingly. "Then you will stay the fuck out of my way. Because the minute he opens his eyes, I am done fucking sitting here. If the cops catch them before that, then I will rob a fucking store or do whatever I have to, to get my ass in that prison and I will slit their throats. And nothing is going to stop me."

"And so you'll just leave Ian again," Lip snapped. "Or he will do something to screw up his life to fucking follow you back in there."

"Then make sure he doesn't," Mickey told him furiously. "Do the fucking big brother thing and keep him out of it."

"And if he fucking dies?"

"Then you don't have to worry about it and simply get the fuck out my way." Mickey stood up, placing his hands in his pockets as he looked at Lip coldly.

"Because if he dies, I will make the fucking cartel look like the Brady bunch compared to what I am going to do to every person in Southside until I find them."

Lip eyes followed him as he began to walk to the door. "Where are you going?"

"To get some coffee," Mickey turned to face him, his expression back to normal except for the haunted gaze which had not left since he got the news yesterday as though the conversation they just had never happened. "You want any?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Mickey nodded and looked over Ian once more before walking out and Lip let out a shaky breath. Growing up as Gallagher in their neighborhood meant there was not a lot that frightened him but the version of Mickey Milkovich he just witnessed was enough to even make him nervous.

"Shit," Lip whispered to himself and rubbed his eyes. "Fuck Ian, wake up. Before your husband completely destroys everything. Including himself."

"His kidneys are still bruised," Doctor Chase told them, holding up Ian's X-rays. "We did another scan and while he is concussed, I don't see any brain damage. However, I am still concerned by the length of internal bleeding before he was found. And then there is his leg."

He looked at Mickey in trepidation. "I would normally recommend surgery to reset the bone but in his current state, I don't think he would–"

"I got it," Mickey interrupted sharply. "We can deal with his leg when he wakes up."

The doctor exchanged looks with the nurse nervously. "Mr. Milkovich, we think you might want to prepare yourself for–"

"I'm not preparing for shit," Mickey snapped furiously. "He's going to be fine."

He stalked down the hall back to Ian's room, slamming the door shut and desperately wishing he had something to throw. He was so tired of people talking about Ian dying and how Mickey might want to start thinking about him being gone.

"Fuck them," Mickey snarled under his breath, slamming his fist into the door. "Fuck!"

"Mick?"

"What?" Mickey yelled, turning around angrily before his eyes widened, and he raced to the bed. "Ian?"

Ian's eyes fluttered, and he gave a soft moan. "Mickey?"

"Yeah," Mickey chuckled hoarsely. "Yeah, it's me."

"What happened?" Ian asked weakly. "Where am I?"

"You're at General Hospital." He brushed his hand over his head. "You got hurt."

"How," he swallowed thickly as though he wasn't sure how he was supposed to use his tongue. "How bad?"

"You're just banged up," Mickey told him. "No big deal."

"It doesn't feel like no big deal," Ian moaned weakly. "It feels like a truck hit me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Is that what happened?"

"Is what, what happened?"

"Truck hit me?"

"Not exactly," Mickey stroked back a piece of his hair. "You don't remember?"

"I can't-I can't–"

"Hey, hey," Mickey whispered soothingly. "It's fine, alright. You're fine."

Ian nodded and Mickey could see he was about to pass out again, so he leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Get some sleep. I will be here when you wake up, okay."

There was no reply since he had already slipped back into unconsciousness. But the relief Mickey felt at even that small moment of interaction made him gasp.

The doctors were not as thrilled by Ian's brief moment of alertness but Mickey no longer cared. They could fucking blah, blah at him all they wanted about his recovery chances and all that but he didn't a flying fuck. Ian was going to make it. That's all he needed for now.

Mickey was trying to watch some dumb show but it wasn't holding much interest since General seemed to have shit for cable, he was kind of stuck with what he got. He rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time when he heard Ian stir.

"Hey," he whispered, quickly turning off the television. "You awake?"

"Not sure," Ian murmured. "Are my eyes open?"

Since they were still so swollen, it was hard to tell but Mickey didn't think it would really help to point it out at the moment. "Yeah, I can see those baby blues."

"Shit," Ian said with a groan. "If you're sweet talking to me, I must be really bad."

Mickey chuckled slightly. "Don't get used to it."

"I don't like it anyway." Ian turned his head to smile at him but it looked more like a grimace. "Our love language was always trash-talking and beating the shit out of each other."

"Yeah, well…" Mickey swallowed against the lump in his throat, brushing back Ian's hair tenderly. "I think we are going to be laying off that for a while since you're beaten to hell and back, and took about ten years off my life."

"Fuck," Ian mumbled. "Is that what happened? Did I get jumped?"

"Yeah."

"Everything is blurry," Ian told him, "I can't really focus to even remember what happened."

"It's alright," Mickey said softly. "Probably better that way."

"Was it because of Frank? Does he owe money again?"

"We don't know… Yet."

Hearing the tone in his voice, Ian forced himself to focus on Mickey. "Don't do anything stupid, Mick. Okay?"

Mickey didn't answer but simply continued to stroke his hair, causing Ian's concern to double. He knew that Mickey was a hothead and would react out of impulse but when he was calm and slightly cold are when things got dangerous.

"Please, Mickey. It probably had something to do with Frank's stupid shit. Just let it go."

"This wasn't a debt payment or something fucked up like that," Mickey told him sharply. "They almost beat you to death, Ian. So, if Frank wants to be alive after this, he better hope he's not involved."

Ian didn't respond but simply closed his eyes with a sigh. Mickey kept up his stroking and knew that even though he would probably try to stop him at some point, he understood it. Remembering an incident not long ago with Lip which was the first time Mickey truly knew that Ian would choose him over anyone else.

"Did you mean it?"

Ian jumped at the sound of Mickey's voice speaking from the door. "Fuck"

Ignoring the obvious attempt to give him a heart attack, Mickey simply repeated his question. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"That if Lip hit me again, you would kill him."

"Of course I meant it,"

"But you love your brother," Mickey said quietly and Ian looked at him in confusion. "Of course I do. But I love you more. No one hurts you. Not even them."

Mickey stared at him for a minute before nodding and Ian knew it wasn't sure what to do with that. No one had ever really put Mickey first like Ian. Not to the point where they would go against blood if it came down to it.

Knowing better than to point it out or talk about though, Ian just casually gestured to the stairs. "It's been a long day. I'm going to bed. Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Mickey turned to flip off the light and to give himself a second to re-group. "Yeah, I'm coming."

They never spoke of it again, but Mickey had finally relaxed in his marriage. No longer worried about Ian's commitment. And even though nothing noticeable in their day-to-day interaction had changed, their relationship had strengthened due to it. Their little bickerings and poking each other had faded and doubt no longer crept in at odd moments.

"Mickey," Ian said roughly and he snapped back to the present. "Yeah."

"I think you should-should get–"

Hearing the gasping breathing, Mickey shot out of his chair. "Ian?"

Ian's eyes rolled back in his head, and his heart machine started beeping erratically as a team of nurses raced in frantically.

"What the fuck is happening?" Mickey yelled as they roughly pushed him aside and began snapping back and forth. They ripped back his sheet, and Mickey could see a large bruise that looked like it was spreading over his stomach.

"What is–"

"He must have started bleeding again," the nurse who had first treated Ian barked with a muted curse. "We have to get him into surgery. Page Doctor Cooper."

"What? No!" Mickey said frantically. "He was fine. He was talking to me–"

"I don't have time to argue," Nurse Baker snapped over him, grabbing his arms to try and restrain him as they began to wheel Ian out.

"Fuck no! No one is taking him anywhere until someone tells me what the fuck–"

"Mr. Milkovich… Mr. Milkovich!"

Mickey whirled to face her, his breathing heavy, and she held his gaze firmly. "I need you to stay calm and I need you to quit fighting me… We have a small window here to save him. So. Let. Me. Save. Him. "

Mickey stopped struggling, his heart pounding as she didn't relinquish her grip on his arms. "Alright?"

He nodded slightly and she squeezed his arms before racing out after the team. He stood frozen for a minute before his legs gave out and he fell to the ground sobbing. He wasn't even aware of how much time passed or the comings and goings of others. Nor when Kev who had been alerted downstairs during his time to guard came and simply picked him up to carry him out of the room.

Looking frightened, Lip talked quietly to Debbie and Carl before making his way to Mickey who had gone almost catatonic at this point. "Mick, is it to the point where I should… call Fiona?"

"You haven't told her yet," Vi yelled in shock. "What the fuck Lip!"

"You know the drill. Fiona left and asked us to leave her alone. We all agreed to give her that unless things were—"

"And Ian getting killed doesn't qualify as–"

"Whoa, whoa babe, he's not dead! They've got–"

"Would you all shut the fuck up," Mickey snapped over all three of them. "I don't give a flying fuck who has or hasn't been told!" He stood up furiously. "And the next fucking person who says Ian is –" His voice broke off and he wiped his face. "Just shut up. Alright."

Vi wiped her own tears and nodded. "I'm sorry, Mickey, I just–"

"Honey," Kev interrupted with a shake of his head and she went silent and simply leaned into him.

Mickey could feel Lip burning a hole in the back of his head with a silent question to get his approval to have their big sister come back to take over like she had done all their fucking life when things got bad. But while he and Fiona didn't see eye-to-eye on their best days, Mickey had never forgiven her for leaving Ian while he was in jail, knowing how much he had relied on her.

And Mickey could even understand her need to go off on her own. To cut off contact except through the occasional checking in, but she would not even answer the phone when Ian called to tell her they were getting married. She only texted back with a simple congratulations and even though he never mentioned it, he knew how much it had hurt Ian when she didn't come to their wedding. Something which Mickey would never forgive her for.

Plus, calling her back into the family would mean admitting that Ian was probably not going to make it. Since only the verge of death was the condition Fiona had put down about her family calling her back into their shit.

"You're not calling Fiona."

"Mickey–"

"She didn't come to the fucking wedding, Lip. She doesn't get to come now and stand over his fucking bedside like someone who gives a shit."

Lip didn't argue with him. He knew how Mickey felt about Fiona disappearing and the disappointment Ian felt when he realized that a simple text was all he was going to get on the day of their marriage. But he did feel the need to point out the repercussions of hiding it.

"She'll never forgive you though if he dies, and you didn't let her come."

"Like I give a fuck about her," Mickey snapped quietly, his back still turned to him. "She can suck my dick."

Lip rubbed his face and sat down in the chair with a terrified moan about what was happening upstairs. "Yeah."

"Mr. Mikovich," Nurse Baker called, her face weary as she took off the stupid paper hat and Mickey quickly went over and simply stared anxiously at her. Unable to ask the question out loud.

"He came through the surgery," Nurse Baker told him quietly and smiled gently as Mickey let out a long exhale in relief. "Doctor Cooper managed to stop the bleeding and it was touch-and-go there for a minute but Mr. Gallagher pulled through."

"Thank fuck," Mickey said with a low gasp "Now what?"

"We're not out of the woods yet," Nurse Baker said honestly. "He won't be able to survive another bleeding so we just have to hope he doesn't start again. Where they must have kicked him repeatedly in the side was the most damaged and where he keeps bleeding. Doctor Cooper managed to get it under control but we need his body to begin healing now. So, we will just have to wait."

"Where is the doctor," Lip demanded. "Why isn't he out here telling us–"

"He's finishing up with Mr. Gallagher," Nurse Baker assured him. "He is watching him in recovery to make sure there are no immediate problems."

"I want to see him," Mickey demanded and she nodded. "As soon as I can let someone back there, I will come find you."

Patting his shoulder, she went back inside and Mickey allowed himself a minute to recover from the past eighty minutes of hell.

"He's alive." Vi whimpered and Kev pressed his lips to her hair. "I know."

"Shit," Lip bent over, his hands on his knees, "god, Ian."

He took a couple of deep breaths before straightening and coming to stand next to Mickey who was still standing by the door.

"So, now that we know he came through the surgery, do you still want Fiona to suck a dick?'

"Fuck yes."