The day it happened, Ian came downstairs to find Carl stretched out on the couch with the girl Tegan lying back against him. They were playing on an Xbox that he didn't know they actually had, but then he supposed that the girl could have brought it over. He thought it was weird, because he'd never seen Carl that relaxed or that happy. He just looked completely content, which was strange because the guy always moved about like he was on fire. He always acted like he had too much energy and like he was about to burst if he didn't do something. And usually that something was never a good thing.
In a lot of ways, Carl reminded him of Mickey. He couldn't completely explain why, but he thought it might have been that at Carl's age Mickey had always been exactly the same. He'd always been moving fast in no particular direction, but not looking like he even knew how to stop. The comparison made sense in Ian's brain, but probably wouldn't to a lot of other people. Mickey would hate that comparison, he knew that, because Carl had always freaked Mickey the fuck out.
It was sort of understandable. The word sociopathic came to mind when thinking about his brother if Ian was being honest.
"Isn't it too hot to be inside?" Ian asked neither of them in particular.
It was Tegan who turned around, an arm slung casually across the back of the sofa. A muscle in her arm twitched and he had a feeling that she was assessing him. Her eyes were freaky; and that wasn't just the unusual colour. It was the fact that he felt like she was trying to tear him apart with just her gaze. It sort of made him want to hand her all of his secrets on a silver platter just so that she wouldn't hurt him. Which was stupid, because he'd been in fucking warzones. A teenage girl shouldn't have worried him, not at all. But she still did.
"You're the guy from the Alibi," she said eventually, chewing at her bottom lip for a second and tilting her head a little bit more to the side.
Ian knew that his surprise for her remembering that showed on his face. "Yeah," he said, "I'm Ian."
"He's the fucking do-gooder in the family," Carl put in, toying with a piece of Tegan's hair, "He's a fucking officer in the army." Carl had never liked what Ian did, he thought it was pointless to go get shot for someone who wasn't yourself or your blood. Ian had given up trying to make him understand, because he knew that Carl was completely set in his way and he wasn't ever going to understand something like joining the army.
He could have sworn there was something close to recognition flickering in Tegan's eyes, but the shutters slammed closed almost immediately and her expression just went blank. It was obviously a trait she'd managed to pick up from Mickey.
He almost wanted to ask about Mickey, but he didn't know how he could phrase that question. So instead he just scratched at the back of his neck and stood there awkwardly for a second. "You guys should go in the pool or something," he said after a minute, "It's too hot to be sitting inside."
Carl rolled his eyes, but he didn't miss the almost hopeful look in Tegan's eyes that appeared. And that was why ten minutes later, Tegan was kitted out in one of Fiona's old bikinis and the three of them were in the pool outside. It was hot enough that the water wasn't that cold, it was almost luke warm and it felt sort of like bath water, but Ian kept that observation to himself.
He was too busy watching Tegan, watching the way that she insisted she bring her clothes outside with her and folded them up neatly, putting them close enough to the pool that it was a risk that they could get wet. But she didn't care, she'd said so when Ian had pointed out that she might want to move them a little further away. He thought there was something weird about the way her eyes kept flitting back to the clothes, checking on them, memorising where they were. But he didn't say anything and he tried to push it out of his mind.
"I don't normally do anything like this in the summer," she commented, slicking back her wet hair with her hands and for a second Ian thought that she looked even prettier than usual with none of the make-up on her face. She had a slight smudge of black under her eyes where she hadn't quite managed to take off all of her make-up, but that was easy to overlook.
Being gay, Ian could look at a person objectively. And objectively speaking, Carl was a lucky guy.
"Why not?" Carl asked the question Ian had been thinking, "You never go swimming?"
"I know how to swim dumbass, obviously," she said, rolling her eyes, "But Mickey isn't really much for this sort of thing, so in New York we just used to sit on our shitty little balcony and get high." She looked like she treasured those sorts of memories, Ian could tell from her expression.
What he couldn't help was the way that his interest peaked at the mention of Mickey's name. He hoped she didn't notice, but he had a horrible feeling that she did.
"You guys were in New York?" he said, finding it hard to keep the surprise out of his voice because he could remember Mickey slagging the city off a lot. He hadn't ever liked the hype that people associated with it. Although secretly Ian had always thought it had something more to do with WestPoint being just outside of New York.
"Yeah, the shittier part though," Tegan said, jumping on Carl's back and Ian was surprised by how easily she got him into a headlock. She dunked him, laughing and then let go, squealing when he grabbed her legs and pulled her against him. She looked at Ian over Carl's shoulder, her arms and legs wound around him. "Suppose at least my mum and Mickey weren't working for drug dealers this time?"
Ian knew his eyebrows had flown up, but he couldn't help it. "This time?"
Tegan shrugged. "Yeah, when we all met they were working for some drug dealer I can't remember the name of, mum was pushing the drugs and Mickey used to break peoples legs and shit," she looked like she found that prospect entertaining and if she was anything like Mickey, she did, "But they actually got normal jobs this time around."
He wanted to ask why they'd moved around, because it sounded like they'd done so a lot. And he also wanted to ask about how she'd met Mickey and who her mother was and what the hell had happened. But he didn't have the courage. Especially not when Mickey appeared, sauntering across the street towards them, his shirt thrown over his shoulder and his skin shining with a layer of sweat.
He'd packed on more muscle since Ian had last seen him shirtless. His shoulders and collarbones were tinged pink by the sun, his skin still almost eerily pale. He'd had his hair cut since the last time that Ian had seen him and it was spiked up in its usual messy way that looked like he'd literally just rolled out of bed. Ian would have believed that if he hadn't seen Mickey putting gel in his hair once back when they'd been fucking.
"Mickey, you're fucking burning," Tegan said by way of greeting, her features mashing up into a scowl as she crossed her arms over the edge of the pool, staring at Mickey with those freaky coloured eyes.
Mickey snorted and sucked on the cigarette he just lit. "You think I give a fuck?" he asked, but there was something in his expression that almost made it seem like they were sharing a private joke. Maybe they were, he was guessing so judging by the smile that turned up the corners of Tegan's mouth slightly.
"No, but I ain't listening to you fucking bitching for the next few days," she said, climbing out of the pool and Ian didn't miss the way that Mickey automatically reached out to steady her as her feet hit the ground. "Ian, can we borrow some of this?" she asked, picking up the bottle of sun cream that Ian had used, because like Mickey, he burnt way too easily.
He nodded without really focusing on what the hell he had just been asked. He was all too aware of Mickey looking at him, but by the time Ian glanced his way, the ex-con looked back at Tegan again. It almost made Ian miss the days when Mickey would hold his stare, daring him to talk about the things Ian saw in Mickey's eyes.
Mickey pulled a face when Tegan wiped her wet hands on his shorts, but turned around obligingly so that she could rub sun cream into the back of his shoulders. He scowled when she pressed her slippery hands to his face, leaving too big handprints across his features.
She laughed, her head tipped back towards the sky and her expression completely carefree as Mickey scrubbed at his face with his hands, rubbing in the cream. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath, but Ian only just had time to hear that.
Mickey hit the floor when Tegan slammed the heels of her hands into his pecks. Caught by surprise he stumbled backwards and the shots went off just as he hit the floor. Everything was a sort of blur after that. Tegan took a shot to the shoulder that had been meant for Mickey and Ian jumped out of the pool before he could even register that he'd moved, catching her before she hit the ground.
"Clothes," Tegan said, staring at Mickey and pointing and Mickey rolled and grabbed the gun that had been hidden in the pile of Tegan's clothes as the car started to speed off down the street. Ian could safely say he had never seen Mickey look so concentrated or so angry as he raised his arm and fired at the car from where the shots had been fired. The back window exploded, as did the tires and the car swerved, connecting with a tree just down the road.
Mickey was taking off before Ian could even think to try and stop him; and Ian was following as soon as Carl took his place, pressing his hands over the wound on his girlfriend's shoulder. Ian could feel the adrenaline pounding through his veins, making his vision seem sharper and everything so much louder. It reminded him of being in a warzone, but this time when he ran he didn't have a gun in his hands and he was wearing nothing more than a pair of swimming shorts.
Mickey jerked open the door of the car and hauled out someone that Ian recognised as one of the other Milkovich brothers. Mickey shoved the gun up under his brothers chin, pressing the older man into the car and Ian had never seen Mickey look so terrifying. The calculating stare had faded away, replaced by an anger that was practically burning in his eyes.
But his brother – Ian thought maybe it was Iggy – just sneered and stared back at Mickey like he was daring him to pull the trigger. "You shot the wrong fucking girl," Mickey snarled out, pressing the gun harder against the underside of Iggy's chin.
"Wasn't aware you were into those," Iggy replied, smirking and his voice full of a malicious sort of laughter.
Mickey hit his brother across the face with the side of the gun at the same time as Tony reached them, obviously having run out of his house upon hearing the shots. For once Mickey chose the option of staying out of jail and backed off away from his brother, spitting on the floor near to the guy. He tucked the gun into the back of his trousers and walked away as Tony slapped cuffs onto Iggy.
The driver of the car was slumped against the steering wheel and Ian had seen enough dead people to know that the guy was gone. He couldn't really say he was sorry.
"Nice shot," Tegan ground out through her teeth when Mickey reached her, what little colour he ever had in his face having long since drained out. Her fingers laced with Mickey's on the ground and squeezed.
Mickey offered her a weak smile in response to her comment, but more than anything he looked like he was about to be sick.
"Ambulance is on its way," Carl said and for a second Ian was surprised at how quickly his brother had sorted that out. Normally he wasn't one for thinking logically.
"That was meant for me," Mickey said, his voice dead-sounding as he scowled down at Tegan, "You weren't supposed to take a fucking bullet for me, T."
She just rolled her eyes. "Well if we're tallying up shit like that, then that fire was meant for me," she replied and Ian didn't understand, but he wasn't completely sure that he wanted to, "Who was it? Your brothers?"
"Iggy," Mickey said and Ian couldn't work out why for some reason they both looked relieved by the fact that it had been Mickey's brother who'd just tried to kill them. Or at least tried to kill Mickey. Who the fuck else is after them? "That's what we get for being in fucking Chicago."
Tegan smiled and Ian saw her squeeze Mickey's fingers. "It hurts," she muttered, her voice low like her words were supposed to be a secret. Her eyes were locked on Mickey and Ian wanted to look away to give them a bit of privacy or something, but he couldn't bring himself to.
"I know," Mickey said, shifting so that he was kneeling a little closer to her, "Being shot's a bitch."
That surprised her. "Who shot you?" she asked, her thumb brushing over the back of Mickey's hand and Ian didn't miss the way that Mickey's eyes flickered towards him. Because Ian remembered when Mickey had been shot, he remembered it too well. He could remember how scared he'd been when he'd heard the shot, how he'd forgotten everything when Mickey had hit the floor, hadn't even cared that Kash could have shot him too.
"Just some asshole," Mickey said, smirking in a way that implied that the expression was supposed to be a smile, "It was over a fucking Snickers bar."
Ian exhaled loudly, not even realising that he'd been holding his breath.
"Where'd he shoot you?" she asked, wincing when Carl shifted his grip on her shoulder, putting more pressure on it. Ian could see the blood seeping through his fingers and Carl's skin seemed to be stained with it. But he didn't care at all. His face was set in complete concentration, which was a strange expression because Ian had never seen Carl look that concentrated other than when he was blowing something up.
"Leg," Mickey replied, squeezing her hand hard enough to make Tegan wince, but she didn't complain. Ian suspected that maybe that short squeeze had grounded her somehow. She was looking pale, a little too pale, but they could all hear the scream of sirens not far away.
Tegan choked out a laugh that sounded like she wasn't getting enough oxygen. Ian was surprised that she hadn't gone into shock or something. Normally that was what people did. But Mickey hadn't when he'd been shot and Ian thought maybe it was Mickey's influence that was causing Tegan to be eerily calm. Or maybe it was just something about her personality.
"You need to be careful," she said, the humour in her voice weak, but nevertheless there, "You're gonna have no fucking legs left the way you're going."
And Ian didn't understand that, but he liked the affection in Mickey's smile even if it wasn't directed at him. He found himself wanting to smile as well. He never got the chance to ask what they were talking about because the ambulance pulled up and they were all being pushed out of the way so that the paramedics could get to Tegan.
Mickey was allowed to ride in the ambulance with her once it had been established that he was responsible for Tegan and also the look in his eyes practically dared anyone to defy him and tell him he couldn't stay with her. It sort of made Ian want to take the gun off of Mickey that was still tucked into the back of his trousers. But he didn't do anything, just motioned to Carl and said he'd drive them both to the hospital since he knew from the look on Carl's face that he was getting to that hospital with no two ways about it.
Carl just nodded numbly as they stared after the ambulance. Apparently it only kicked in then that his girlfriend had just been shot. Carl didn't know why, but Ian thought maybe he did. He thought maybe he understood and that it had something to do with Iggy's comment to Mickey. He knew why Mickey had been the intended target, but what he didn't know was what the fuck else Mickey had got himself mixed up in. Because it was obviously something.
And Ian was going to find out. Even if it wasn't technically any of his business. He was going to find out.