"Was that really necessary?"

The way the blood was pounding in Ian's head, Fiona's voice sounded like it was underwater.

A sadness came over him that he hadn't felt for so long, hearing the disappointment in his sister's tone. He hated being the one to put it there.

His head still down, he murmured, "I don't know what else to do."

"Well you could try not making your wife feel like crap?" she ventured. When there was no reply she continued, "Do you want to tell me what's going on now?"

He lifted his head. "I can't. I can't go over it all again. And I don't want you to hate me too. I can't have you hate me as well as everyone else."

"Why the hell would I hate you?" Fiona moved over to him and touched his shoulder gently. "Please, Ian. No more secrets now. You have to tell me."

Ian took his time standing up. His back ached from being slumped over, but he didn't feel like he had the right to stretch his muscles and ease his discomfort right now, so he made his way – slightly hunched - to the table and perched on it. Fiona leant against the counter, watching him closely.

"I love him. Mickey. I thought I'd got past it – got over him - but I haven't." He didn't wait for a response. "And I'm pretty sure he feels the same way."

"How sure? Like leave-your-wife sure? Because Ian-"

"That's the only bit I am sure about right now." Ian finally met Fiona's gaze. "I can't keep stringing her along. I think all of this with Mickey has just brought up what I needed to know all along. Whatever happens with him, I think Vicki deserves to have her life back."

At that moment his phone vibrated. In two minds whether to check it or not, but thinking it could be Vicki, he took his phone from his pocket. But it wasn't her. Instead, a text from an unknown number showed on the screen saying simply:

[Im sorry]

Ian stared at it.

"Ian?"

"I... hold on." He was still trying to process the anonymous apology - there could only really be one person who'd sent it - when his phone buzzed again.

[I was a stupid fuck. please]

"Who is it?" Fiona asked.

"I think it must be Mickey, but he doesn't have my number so I don't know how."

He stood and passed the phone to Fiona to show her the last message. She looked and her eyes widened. "What happened?" As she spoke, the phone vibrated again. She glanced down briefly then passed the phone back to her brother.

Ian looked at the screen. All it said this time was:

[Gallagher?]

He chuckled humourlessly. "So we're back to Gallagher now," He said, to nobody in particular.

He looked at his sister and his whole body suddenly felt so heavy. "Can we talk about this in the morning? Is that okay? I'm so fucking tired, Fi. I just need to sleep."

Fiona reached into one of the higher kitchen cupboards and took out a bottle of pills. As she did so, the phone buzzed in Ian's hand again. He was almost afraid to look at it, but this time it was from Lip.

[I just gave Mickey your number. Hope I don't make everything worse. Lip]

"Frank left these," Fiona said, shaking one of the pills out and passing it to him. "Take it and get some sleep. But I swear to God, if you are not here in the morning to talk about this, I will hunt you down."

"I promise." Ian swallowed the pill dry, the powdery residue leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

"Carl's out tonight. You can take his bed."

"Thanks," Ian murmured gratefully, starting up the stairs.

"Ian," Fiona's voice had an urgent edge, "what the fuck did he do?"

"He kissed me."

"Oh."

The yelling woke Ian in the morning. Not the usual Gallagher household sort of yelling either, but a proper argument. He could hear Fiona's voice, raised in anger, and another voice. Shit. Was that Mickey?

Ian scrambled to pull on some sweatpants and a shirt, and slapped both his cheeks in attempt to wake himself up.

He heard Mickey's voice loud and clear.

"You can't stop me from seeing him."

"Like hell I can't!" came Fiona's retort. "This is my house, and you don't go up those stairs."

"Well let's get him down here then shall we? GALLAGHER!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Fiona was hissing through clenched teeth, as Ian rounded the corner on the stairs.

"It's okay. I'm here." He didn't come the whole way down though, leaving Mickey looking up at him.

"You just gonna stay up there?" he gestured to where Ian stood in place.

"What do you want, Mickey," Ian asked, unmoving.

Mickey looked expectantly at Fiona, like he was waiting for her to leave.

Fiona scoffed, "I'm not going anywhere."

Ian turned to face his sister. He gave her a look that said "Just give us a minute" and she frowned at having to backtrack, but she made for the front room anyway. "I'll wait out front."

Mickey started first, "You just ignoring me? You even get my messages?"

Ian looked back at Mickey and folded his arms.

"Oh the silent treatment. Like we're in high school, I get it." Mickey let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Mick-"

"So, the thing is," Mickey burst out, "you just expect me to say stuff. You always fuckin'... want stuff from me. It was the same back then and it's the same now."

"Wha-?" Ian was shocked. Clearly Mickey had this all prepared.

"See, I always knew how you felt, Gallagher. It was written all over your fuckin' face, for Christ's sake. With your goddamn puppy-dog eyes and the way... the way you'd touch me." Mickey was pacing now.

Ian took a breath, ready to speak.

"No. I'm not fuckin' done yet." Mickey stopped and held up a hand. "What I mean is, it was always okay that you only showed me how you felt, but you never seemed to get that I was doing the same. You always needed more from me. You always wanted more from me. You always wanted me to say stuff."

"Because I-"

"I said I wasn't done," Mickey barrelled on. He sounded out of breath, like he'd been running. "You realise that you never actually said anything to me? You were always trying to get me to admit stuff, but you never did. Not once. The first time I heard you say those words to me was the other night when you were completely shitfaced. And you said it in the past fuckin' tense. Yeah, that felt fuckin' awesome by the way."

Ian gaped at him. That couldn't be true could it? Had he really never actually told Mickey how he felt?

Mickey raised his eyebrows, like he was challenging Ian to correct him.

"So... what are you are saying?" Ian asked, trying for nonchalance, but feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.

Mickey quickly chewed off a fingernail. "I'm saying that you wanted me to say words to you that you wouldn't say to me. I'm saying that when I left," he put air quotes around the word, "I did it because I couldn't kill your dad and make things worse between us, but then you ran off to get yourself killed and when that didn't work you fuckin' married a woman for fuck's sake!" He took a quick breath. "So I'm wondering whose feelings were clearer? I guess what I'm saying here is...," he trailed off.

"What?" Ian uncrossed his arms and moved down a step. He couldn't wait any longer for an answer. "Mickey? WHAT?"

"I'm sayin' that I love you more than you loved me. How about that?" Mickey rushed out. He didn't know whether or not he wanted Ian to notice his use of the present tense.

Ian felt a sudden ache in his chest. "You asshole."

Mickey scoffed, "How am I an asshole?! I tried to show you every fuckin' day how I felt but you couldn't see because it wasn't what you wanted to see. And still I waited for you. Like some stupid pussy. And what did it get me?

Ian couldn't speak.

"Yeah. I have my answer." And in two strides Mickey was out of the back door leaving Ian still standing on the stairs, watching the door. Stunned.

When he could feel his legs again, Ian took the last couple of steps back into the dining area, eyes flitting back and forth, going back over what Mickey had just said.

He heard the front door open and close, then he saw Fiona in his peripheral vision, tentatively poking her head in. "I just saw Mickey storming away. Are you okay?"

Ian shook his head.

"Come sit down and talk to me. You want a drink?"

He shook his head again, more vehemently this time, then took a seat at the dining table as Fiona grabbed a glass of water and came to stand by him.

"Okay. Start with yesterday." Fiona began. "You said he kissed you?"

Ian nodded.

"And?" she prodded. She sounded as confused as Ian felt.

"And nothing. I mean nothing else happened." He looked up at her again. "But I wanted it so much, Fi. It just felt right. But I needed to make everything else feel right too. So I left, and he wasn't happy."

Fiona shook her head in disbelief. "Wait. So let me get this straight here. He leaves you. Fucks off to juvie twice and you have to deal, but then you need a fucking minute and he calls you on it?"

Ian smiled.

"What are you smiling at?" Her eyebrows shot up, questioningly. "I want to punch him in the face right now! Goddamn Milkoviches."

Ian let out a laugh then. A genuine, proper laugh. And once he started, he couldn't seem to stop. It felt like a really good release.

"What?!" Fiona watched as he bent double with laughter, hands gripping his ankles. She began nervously giggling with him. "Why are we laughing? What's so funny?"

Ian let out a long, loud sigh and regained his composure. "Nothing. Nothing's funny. It's just ironic. That you get this. You get it straight away. If I'd told you about it at the time, maybe you could have saved me all this trouble. Probably the stint in the army too."

Fiona's forehead creased into a frown. "Huh? How does that work?"

"Because...," Ian started "Because I ran away. I'm not proud of it. But when Mickey went to juvie to get away from me again – or at least that's what I thought happened – I'd just had enough. So I stayed away. I bided time. And then I ran."

When Ian turned his attention back to Fiona, she was standing right in front of him and she looked like she was about to cry. Or kill him.

"That's why you left? But you always said you wanted to join the army."

"I know, and I did." Ian rubbed a hand over his skull and down to his neck, "But Mickey felt like someone to stick around for, you know?

Fiona punched him in the arm. "Oh? And what about the rest of us? You left your family and everyone you loved and you could have been killed - because of Mickey?"

Ian grimaced at her tone and nodded.

"Jesus. I can't believe you were so fucking selfish, Ian."

"Selfish?" Ian stared at her. "I leave to serve my country and you call me selfish?"

"Except that's not why you went though, and you know it and now I know it. You weren't being noble, you were running away from a boy and I'm so fucking mad at you." She thumped him again. It actually hurt this time, but he didn't complain.

"And this is why I couldn't tell you," Ian's voice was laced with chagrin. "And now I feel twice as shit because Mickey just told me that he loves me. That he basically loved me this whole time and that he went to juvie to protect me."

"Protect you?! From what?!" Fiona asked, incredulous.

"From him. From his fucking psycho dad. From being hurt anymore because I kept pushing him for more than he could give. And now all I can think is that I DIDN'T WAIT FOR HIM." He shouted the last words angrily into the room, tears starting to fall.

"Jesus, Ian," Fiona bounded towards him and pulled him into her arms.

"He waited nearly ten years for me and I couldn't wait six months for him." Ian's voice cracked as he said the words, his tears landing on Fiona's shoulders and soaking through her shirt.

"He's never kissed me before," Ian confessed against her shoulder.

She didn't answer him. She just stroked his hair and gently rocked him from side to side like a child in her arms for a few minutes. It felt natural, even though he was a good head taller than her. She let him sob, and gulp for air and when he eventually calmed, she pulled back until he she was looking right at him.

"It sounds to me, little brother, like you might have run away from him, but you never actually left."

Ian sniffed and wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean?" She smiled sympathetically at him. "Love's never easy. Fuck, if anyone knows that, it's me. But if you love him, you gotta tell him. And yeah, someone's gonna get hurt in the process, sometimes you just can't help that."

"Yeah?"

"I never thought I'd say this about a Milkovich, but if you feel like this – if you've always felt like this - then don't lose him, because it's like a slow burning acid that eats you from the inside out." She put her hand flat on his chest. "And if he's waited this long, I can only imagine how Mickey must feel."

Ian's face was still wet with tears. His eyes were stinging and sore, but he felt his mouth turn up in a lopsided grin. "God, I've missed you so much," he said, falling into another hug.

Fiona kissed the top of his head. "And I've missed that smile," she replied.