So I know it isn't the best chapter and it's shorter than I'd like, but I've been having writer's block and have been finding it difficult to pick this back up now I'm back from holiday. But hopefully it didn't turn out too badly. . . please read and review, it gives me incentive :)

"Mickey too good for going in the water or something?" Ian asked, looking back over his shoulder at where Mickey was sprawled out on his towel still. He looked good, but at the same time he looked like shit. Physically he'd bulked up some, something that was probably necessary for his job, but there were dark circles under his eyes and just something about him that practically screamed defeated. He looked strung out, hollow almost.

It was strange because normally, no matter what, Mickey had always looked at least a little bit alive. Even if it was in a way that made him feel like he was irritated in his own skin, he'd still seemed alive.

Lip shrugged, watching where Mandy was playing with Shelly at the water's edge. They'd waded in a little bit further up to their thighs and even further out Tegan and Carl were already doing their best to dunk each other under the surface of the water. He'd been surprised when he'd heard that Carl had moved in with Tegan, surprised Mickey had let him, but seeing them together it sort of made sense. And he doubted that Carl would blow anything up with Mickey being under the same roof.

"It irritates his skin," Lip said, not even joking, his face completely serious. Which was weird.

Ian snorted, "So what, he's just going to lie there all day?"

"Probably," Lip replied, smiling when Mandy lifted Shelly up into the air, hugging her close before dunking her feet in the water again. It was a sweet sight and Ian would admit that his brother could make a damn cute kid, even though with Mandy's genes they were bound to. He felt like he'd missed out on a lot not being here for the birth or for the first six months, but Lip told him that it wasn't like she'd remember it anyway and they'd sent him enough pictures.

Ian didn't say that the one he looked at the most was of Mickey holding the new born baby. It was strange seeing Mickey with a child, but then he supposed that he'd done well with Tegan.

"Why the hell did he even bother coming then?" he asked, still scowling back in the direction of Mickey. For some reason he had a towel covering his legs, which was stupid to say the least.

Lip frowned at him. "Because Tegan begged him to," he said in a low voice, "And cut him some slack dude, seriously, he's been through a lot."

"Like what?" Ian asked, snorting, "Whatever he's been through he brings on himself, he always does."

Lip just stared at him for a second like he was only just realising that actually, Ian had been away for over a year in a foreign country with the army and catching up on local gossip wasn't high up on his priority lists. Even if it was gossip – or just plain information really – to do with Mickey. The chances of him actually knowing that Lip was talking about were still slim and it seemed like his brother was only just realising that fact.

"Kara died," he said rather bluntly, but he sounded pained at the same time, like that fact had put him through an experience he didn't really want to relive. And Ian didn't have the courage to ask what the hell happened, or maybe it was more that he wanted to hear the story from Mickey, but he knew that right then all that was registering on his face was blank shock. Lip had obviously managed to see something in his expression though because he grimaced and said, "Yeah, I know."

"And how are they. . ." he doesn't even finish that question because he knew how stupid it was. Even if Mickey bottled it all up, he knew that the guy wouldn't be fine. And Tegan had lost her mother and looking at her right then, Ian thought he could finally understand why Tegan's smile faltered and slipped when she thought nobody was looking.

Lip shrugged, chewing on his bottom lip for a second like he was considering how much he should say and how much Ian should just figure out on his own. If he was being honest, Ian had always been the more observant one anyway. "They pretend they're fine even if they're not," he said eventually and then turned to head back towards the beach, "And if I were you, I wouldn't try and say you're sorry to Mickey, he hates that."

And yeah, Ian could imagine. He hadn't even really been planning on it. Mickey had never really been the one to accept comfort, to even need it. He was more the type to just bottle it all up and lock it away until it threatened to cook him from the inside out. Usually the explosion was really quite spectacular, often not in a good way. Actually, never in a good way.

He spent the rest of the day watching Mickey, tracking for any signs of real emotion that he knew had to be there even if he couldn't see them. He noticed the way that Mickey didn't actually move from his position at any time and how he turned down the joint that Lip offered around. And he definitely noticed the way that under no circumstances did Mickey meet Ian's gaze. In fact, he spent the majority of the time letting sand run through his fingers and Ian wondered if that meant something, he thought it probably did.

"Heard about Kara," he said lamely when they'd finally been left alone.

Mickey's eyes flickered towards him for a second before he stared back down at the sand. "Yeah, good for you," he muttered, lighting a cigarette in the silence that followed. He blew smoke out of his nostrils, for the moment looking every bit like the angry bull that Ian often associated him with in his mind.

"How did it happen?" he asked, cringing at his own bluntness. He hadn't meant to ask that, but he just needed to fill the silence. Even if it was with Mickey being mad at him, he still wanted the guy to open up a little. Just a little. Even just to yell. Mickey's way of coping with stuff had never been healthy, Ian knew that better than most.

Mickey did turn to look at him that time, his eyes on fire and his mouth twisted into a snarl. "And how the fuck did that become any of your business?" he asked, spitting out the words and flicking the second half of his cigarette away haphazardly, forcing himself jerkily to his feet.

And maybe Ian would have said something to stop him storming off, if he hadn't been so engrossed by the burns that crawled their way up the flesh of Mickey's legs, his shorts doing nothing to hide their presence. And suddenly a whole lot made sense, some of Lip's comments, Mickey's attitude, the fact the guy was suicidal enough to wear slacks in the middle of summer. The doctor at the hospital's comments made sense as well and the mention of cream. Ian couldn't help but feel like an idiot for not working it out.

But then again, Mickey had always been great at hiding things he was ashamed of. Ian would know, he was still one of those things.