Chapter 20:

"Emergency glee club meeting!" Rachel screeched as she ran past Mickey in the school halls. He turned and watched her go.

Rachel was always so dramatic. He considered not going, because he was not in the mood of listening to her panicking over her song choice for next week's assignment. However, Mickey had class with Kenny next, which he most definitely was not looking forward to. If an emergency glee meeting could get him out of that, he would endure fifty Rachels.

When he walked into the choir room, he saw that Ian was not yet there. He didn't think anything of it as he went and sat in the back row by himself. Mercedes climbed into the row in front of him and he hoped she wouldn't turn around and say anything about what she knew. He wasn't ready for that.

Rachel was standing at the front of the room, her hands on her hips. She looked impatient as the others began to take their seats, talking and surmising what the meeting might be about. Once everyone had taken their seat, Mr Schue, who was leaning against the piano, quietened the class down, then gave Rachel a nod. Mickey figured Ian was not at school today. Also missing, was Quinn and also Iggy.

"You may be wondering why we called you hear today," Rachel said, eyes sweeping over the students. "We are not just a glee club, we are a family and a family cares. You may notice that we are missing a member of our family today."

Everyone looked around, confusion on their faces. Rachel rolled her dark eyes.

"Okay," she said. "We are missing more than one member, but I meant a member who actually shows up."

Oh. She meant Ian.

"As captain of this glee club, I volunteered to break this news as gently as possible. Unfortunately, Mercedes discovered something rather sad today," Rachel continued on. "I know this is interfering with our classes and that we—"

"Rachel," Mr Schuester said, warningly. "This is no time to get sidetracked."

"Of course," Rachel said. "However, I do think it should be first pointed out that—"

"Rachel!" Mercedes said, loudly and everyone's gaze fell on her. She paused a moment, then stood up. "I called Ian this morning, guys, and his dad picked up and said he'd gotten into a car accident early this morning."

Mickey's heart went still. His mind was suddenly filled with a rush of scenarios, some bad, some awful, some he didn't even want to contemplate.

"Is—is he okay?" Tina asked, worriedly, next to Mike.

"His dad said he'll be okay. It wasn't a bad crash," Mercedes told them and Mickey wondered what kind of crash was a good crash. "He has a lot of bruising and a concussion, but he'll be okay. Rachel and I just tho—"

"We were thinking we could all go and see him at the hospital," Rachel cut in at the front of the room.

Mr Schue stood up straight and walked to stand next to Rachel, then. "Now, I understand a lot of you have a lot on with classes and might not be able to go," he announced. "But if you'd like to go, I asked coach Sylvester if we could borrow the Cheerios' bus, just for today and after a lot of prompting, she agreed."

"No, Mr Schue," Finn said, standing up. "Rachel's right, we are a family. We should all be there for Ian."

Mickey looked around the room at the collective nods and then turned and nodded, too.

No matter how many times Mickey had seen his father display extreme anger and abuse, he still got that flittering feeling all throughout the inside of his body. He felt as if every part of him had gone to mush and his hands shook and his head whirled and he couldn't think straight.

Worrying about Ian Gallagher made him feel the exact same way.

He sat at the back of the bus by himself and scowled, because the last time he had sat at the back of a bus by himself, Ian had come and sat with him. This time, however, Mercedes was coming towards him and the last thing he needed right now was her questioning him about the relationship they had once had.

"You came, too," she said, slipping into the seat next to him. He just nodded. "Because you wanted to get off class?" she asked.

Mickey looked offended, because this was Ian they were talking about, Ian who meant more to him than he cared to admit out loud. "No," he said, finally.

She watched him for what seemed like a long time, but could only have been about thirty seconds. Then she spoke, "You care about him, don't you?"

He felt the urge to deny it, but Mercedes already knew, he could see it in her eyes. He nodded, sighed and looked back at the seat in front of him.

"What happened?" he asked, quietly. "Why was he even driving early this morning?"

Mercedes shrugged. "No idea," she told him. "We'll have to ask him ourselves."

Mickey merely nodded again.

"Can I ask you a question?" He had been waiting for the questions to come, so he shrugged and waited. "If you still care about him and he still cares about you, why did you guys stop?"

"Because I have a girlfriend," Mickey told her, simply, like that was a valid answer.

Of course, Mercedes didn't believe this was a valid answer. "You had a girlfriend when you and Ian slept together, too."

"It's.. It's complicated," he told her, which wasn't a lie. It was complicated.

They stayed silent for a long time and Mickey wished the stupid bus would hurry up because he just needed to see him, see that he was okay, just like Ian had done for him.

"His dad said he's fine, Mickey," Mercedes soothed. "Don't worry."

"I can't help it," he said, before he could stop himself.

"I know," she nodded. "You know what Mickey?"

"What?"

"You're okay," she smiled next to him.

"Yeah," he said, returning her smile. "Yeah, so are you."

Mickey couldn't go in. He felt like an idiot, but he couldn't go in, at least not with the others. He told them he would wait outside because he wasn't feeling well. Rachel had given him an incredulous look, but no one else had even blinked an eye. Except Mercedes, obviously. Mercedes gave him the sad almost-smile, before heading inside.

Mickey sighed and sat down on the plastic chairs against the wall. All he wanted was to see Ian, but he was afraid, afraid of what he might do. He didn't want to go in there with all of the glee club and Mr Schue and break down.

"Mickey, right?"

Mickey looked up and saw Frank Gallagher, Ian's dad coming towards him.

"Hi," Mickey said, simply.

Frank took a seat across the narrow hall. He was holding a paper coffee cup. He looked up at Mickey and Mickey couldn't get Ian's words out of his head: My dad figured it all out this morning. Which meant that Frank Gallagher was well aware of the relationship he had had with Ian.

"You didn't go in with your friends?"

Mickey didn't bother to point out that they didn't really consider him a friend, because that wasn't the main point of the question. The question was why hadn't he gone in to see Ian?

"I.. They don't know," he said, quietly, hoping that was enough.

Much to Mickey's relief, Frank nodded, knowingly. "You and Ian," he said, then. "What's goin' on there?"

"Nothing, not any more," Mickey said, with a sigh. "We—we're just friends."

"Right," Frank nodded, again. "Were you using him?"

Mickey's eyes shot up and fell on Frank. "No," he said, quickly. "No, never. Ian is—Ian's one of the best people I know." The best. "I would never do anything to.." He had been going to say he would never do anything to hurt him, but he had already hurt Ian, so that was a lie. "Ian sort of—he means a lot to me," Mickey finished, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Frank seemed to stare at him for a long time. Mickey folded his hands together and stared at the patterns on the tiles. Then Frank spoke, "That bracelet." He pointed at Mickey's hand and reached into his pocket and produced something silver and gleaming. It was the bracelet Mickey had given Ian. "They gave me this when they took him in," Frank went on, looking down at Mickey's wrist. "You've got one, too."

Mickey looked at Frank, who was staring at him, anticipating an explanation. "Um," Mickey stammered. "Ian's birthday.. I, um," he cleared his throat and gestured towards the bracelet in Frank's hand. "And he, um.. It was my birthday a few days ago," he told Frank and pushed his sleeve away to reveal the bracelet. "He, um, gave me that in-in return."

He cursed his awkwardness, but Frank just nodded and then remained silent again.

"You wanna see him?" he asked after a while.

"Oh, I co—"

"I mean when they're gone," Frank clarified. "He doesn't look that awful, just a bit of bruising."

"I.. You wouldn't mind?" Mickey asked, surprised.

"Nah," Frank said and he leaned over and handed Mickey Ian's bracelet. "I think he'd like to see you."

"Yeah," Mickey said, smiling a little. He took the bracelet from Frank and pressed it into the palm of his hand. "Yeah, I'd like to see him, too. Thank you."

Ian felt as if he had been hit over the head repeatedly with a hammer. His mouth tasted as if he had sucked on old copper pennies like they were breath mints and his ribs hurt like hell. It didn't help that had probably had sex with Kenny, either. He shuddered every time he thought of it.

Now the glee club were there, all except Quinn, Iggy and Mickey. The fact that Mickey wasn't there hurt him a little, but he kept quiet about it. Nobody had probably told him what had happened.

"How are you feeling, Ian?" Mr Schuester asked, softly.

"Um, okay," he said.

"Christ, Gallagher, you look like crap," Santana told him and he glared at her. In a way, he was glad Mickey didn't have to see him like this. He would have died of mortification.

"Ian, what happened?" Finn asked.

"I don't know," he told him. "I just—I don't think I want to talk about it."

"That's perfectly fine, Ian," Rachel said, taking the lead. "We have prepared a little number in your honour. Places people!"

Ian smiled, affectionately and waited for Rachel to start singing.

After the glee club had completed their rendition of "Keep Holding On", they had left and Ian was alone again. He was still smiling and teary eyed from the performance, because it was possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him in his entire life. No one had ever made him feel like he belonged.

He lay there, staring at the cracked ceiling, his head still pounding and wondered if he would ever get over what had happened with Kenny. Before he had a chance to think further into it, the door opened again and Ian expected to see his dad there, but the person that walked through was not his dad. He was small and dark and looked terrified.

"Mickey," Ian breathed and tried to sit up too quickly, forgetting that his ribs and stomach were horribly bruised. He groaned a little and Mickey rushed forward looking as if he didn't know what to do with his hands. "I'm fine," Ian told him, settling.

Mickey nodded and Ian gestured to the soft chair next to the bed. Mickey sat down gingerly.

"So, um, you're here," Ian said, because he had not been expecting this.

"Yeah," he said. "I couldn't come in with the others. I—your dad said I could wait and see you alone."

Ian was caught between wanting to kill his dad for allowing Mickey to see him while his hair was flat and his face was wan and his eyes had bags under them, and wanting to hug him, because he had sent Mickey in here by himself to see him.

"Ian," Mickey said, sitting forward. "What happened?"

Ian shook his head, but Mickey gave him this look, urging him to tell him, a look that said you know you can tell me anything, so Ian exhaled and started talking.

"I went out with Kenny—"

"You did wha—"

"Mickey," Ian said, over him. "Look, let me talk, okay?" Mickey nodded, but he didn't look all that happy about it. "I was mad at you. I know you have a lot to deal with, but it's almost like you want me, but you took the easy way out and went with Quinn. I get that you have a lot of pressure on you right now, but I just got mad, okay? And then you were telling me not to let him break my heart, when that was really rich coming from you, so I called him back and met up with him at Breadstix."

Ian paused and took a deep breath, because Mickey was not going to like this next bit. He hadn't even told his dad any of this.

"Ian—"

"I'm not done," he said. "So, the next thing I remember is-is waking up n-naked and in a strange room," he told him. "And he was there, beside me and he w-was naked, too and I panicked, because I don't remember anything. But I must have slept with him, mustn't I? I just—I wouldn't have, you know? I wouldn't do that. It just—none of it makes sense."

Mickey didn't look angry any more. He was watching him with sad, pitying eyes and Ian hated that, he hated being the victim. He told Mickey as much and Mickey sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Look, we all mess up. I can't stand the guy and he probably took advantage of you while you were trying to deal with—with all this. I'll take responsibility for that and I'm going to have a strongly-worded conversation with him about it."

"You don't think I'm an idiot?"

Mickey shook his head and reached out and grabbed Ian's wrist. Ian watched as he pulled his bracelet from his pocket and looped it around his arm. He fastened the clasp, but didn't let go of his hand.

"We all do something we regret at some time or another," Mickey told him.

Ian pulled his hand out of Mickey's grasp and tried to glare at him, but he just ended up looking stupid because that hurt. Mickey furrowed his eyebrows, confusion all over his face, his eyes studying him thoroughly, then he opened his mouth.

"Oh!" he said, as if he had just discovered gold. "Ian, no. No, I didn't mean you. I meant Quinn. God. I didn't mean you, I swear—"

"Okay," Ian said and he reached back across and took Mickey's hand in his own. Mickey ran his thumb across his knuckles and Ian shivered, because that was the effect Mickey had on him. "Look, thanks for being here. You—you're a.. A good, um, friend."

It cut him in two to speak those words, because Mickey would never be his friend. There would always be that tension between them that existed between those who had once had a romantic relationship.

"Actually," Mickey said, tightening his grip on Ian's hand. "I've been thinking and I wanted to talk to you about—"

Mickey was cut off, because the door opened once again. They dropped hands and looked guiltily up at the nurse, as if they had been doing something very wrong.

"Mr Gallagher," the nurse said. "Is your father not here?"

"Um—"

"He went back to the garage to cancel appointments," Mickey added. "He said he'd be back in thirty minutes."

The nurse nodded and looked down at her clipboard, then back to Ian.

"Mr Gallagher, we just got the tests back and there was a fair amount of flunitrazepam in your system, which would explain your memory loss," she informed him. "Are you taking drugs, Ian?"

Ian gaped at her and Mickey did, too.

"What? No," Ian shook his head, his heart thumping far too quickly. "I—No, never. I would never touch drugs," he told her.

She, however, did not look convinced. "Hmm, okay," she said, sceptically. "I'll have to inform your father."

Ian nodded and watched her go, then looked up at Mickey, but Mickey had already stood up, his face twisted angrily.

"What are yo—"

"I'm going to kill him," Mickey told him. "Why is this not getting into your head? He drugged you and then he.. I'm going to fucking kill him."

"Mickey, calm down, we don't know that he—"

"Yes, we do!" Mickey said, voice raised. "Look, you've got to stop thinking everyone is just going to be nice, okay? You trusted me and look how that turned out! Now he... I—come here," Mickey said and he bent and kissed him, quickly, then pulled away. "I'll be back afterwards, I promise."

"Mickey, don't—"

"I have to," he said. "You don't get it, I have to do this. He needs to pay for what he's done. God, Ian. You need to tell your dad, too, okay and then the police and—"

"The police?" Ian exclaimed. "Mickey, we could have this all wrong," he objected, but he didn't even believe that himself. He knew Mickey was right, but he didn't want him to go and get in trouble for this, he didn't want people to think he was a victim, he didn't want to tell his dad that he may have been raped. He shook his head, because he didn't want to think about that.

"I'm paying every day for what I've done to you," Mickey told him in a hushed tone. "You might not think I am, but every day, I hurt like you wouldn't believe. I didn't think anyone could do anything to hurt you worse than I did, but now he—Ian, I have to go over there, okay? Just.. I'll be back, okay? I'll be back."

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. It didn't matter either way, Mickey had already gone.

Iggy opened the door and Mickey walked quickly past him.

"Where is he?" he demanded and Iggy stared at him like he had three heads.

"Where's who? Milkovich, what are y—"

"Kenny," Mickey clarified. "Where is your asshole cousin?"

Iggy said nothing just gestured upstairs and Mickey headed straight up, his heart hammering in his chest. He pushed open the door to the bedroom that Kenny had always stayed in when he came over during the summer and inside, Kenny was sitting on the edge of the bed watching TV.

Mickey sprinted across the room and dragged Kenny up by the front of his shirt. Kenny was asking him what the hell he was doing, but he didn't care, he simply swung his arm back and punched him in the jaw. His blood was boiling, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this mad.

"What the fuck, Milkovich?" Kenny spat and Mickey pushed him up against the wall.

"Is that how you get everyone to sleep with you, Kenny?" Mickey snarled. "You drug them and then you get to do whatever you want with them?"

"I never did—"

"Oh, but you did," Mickey intimated. "Because I have just come from the hospital and the test results revealed that Ian Gallagher has fucking Rohypnol soaring through his veins."

"Hospita—"

"You knew," Mickey told him, angrily. He pushed him harder against the wall and Kenny whined. "You fucking let him get in his car knowing he had that crap in his system. You let him drive away while he wasn't in his right mind. God, you're lucky he got out of this physically unscathed, or you would find yourself in a hospital bed."

"I didn't touch him," Kenny protested and Mickey pushed him back. "Dude, I swear, I didn't touch him."

"Then why would you drug him, you asshole?" Mickey laughed, cruelly. "You just thought you'd drug him and take him back to your room, strip him bare and just put him in your bed? Because, frankly, Kenny, I'm not seeing the sense here."

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, that's what I did," Kenny told him, his dark eyes filled with worry. "Look, I just—yeah, I wanted to sleep with him, but I wouldn't—I mean, I would never rape him."

Mickey gave him a bewildered look.

"I just figured if he thought he had slept with me once, he'd do it again, you know?"

Mickey stared at him. He was telling the truth.

"Oh my God," Mickey said. "Oh, God, you're serious? What the fuck? Iggy is the smartest member of your family, holy shit."

"Can you let me go?"

Mickey looked up at him. "No," he said. "No, I can't, because you still drugged him. You still drugged him and he still crashed into a tree and his ribs are still bruised and his wrist is still sprained and his fucking head is still fucking spinning, so, no, I can't let you go. The only time I will be letting you go is when the cops come in here to cuff you."

"Oh, thank God," Ian said, breathing a sigh of relief after Mickey had told him the truth. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Mickey smiled. "He was definitely telling the truth."

"I should tell my da—"

"I told him before I came in here," Mickey said. "He was still beyond angry, which is understandable, but he knows."

Ian smiled and watched as Mickey took his hand again. He thought about pulling away, because he was going to have to go back to Quinn and the football team and all of that, but he just wanted to have this one moment, just for a little while, so he didn't let go.

"So, um, when do you get out of this place?" Mickey enquired.

"They said in the morning, they want to keep me in overnight, just for precaution," Ian rolled his eyes and Mickey smiled. Then his smile faded.

"I was so scared when I heard this had happened to you," he told Ian, quietly, his golden-brown eyes locked with Ian's sky blue ones. "All I wanted to do was fix it. I—I'm just so glad you're okay."

Ian felt his stomach filling with butterflies and he smiled across at Mickey. "Didn't know you cared," he teased.

"Are you kidding me?" Mickey asked, eyes widening. "Really? You don't think I care?"

Ian shrugged a bit. "I don't know," he told him. "I never really know what you're thinking in that head of yours."

"Usually about you," Mickey uttered, a little bashfully.

Ian simply stared at him, wondering if he meant it. He looked like he meant it, his eyes were still level with Ian's and he was still tracing invisible designs across Ian's hand with his fingers.

"Um," Ian spoke up, then. "Earlier, before the nurse came in, you said you wanted to talk to me about something. What was it?"

Mickey nodded, quickly. "Oh," he said. "Oh, yeah. I—tomorrow! Can I talk to you tomorrow? You know, once you're out of here?"

Ian nodded and wondered what he wanted to talk about that required them being some place else. "Sure," he said. "Whatever you want."

"Think you're strong enough to come over to my place?" Mickey asked. "I'll pick you up and take you home and you'll be totally safe, I promise."

Ian chuckled and his ribs ached, feeling as if someone was prodding at them with a cricket bat. He tried to remain calm about it, but it really hurt and he closed his eyes tight for a second.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine," Ian said, looking back at Mickey, who was half way out of his chair. "I'm fine, sit down." Mickey sat, but he didn't look any less concerned. "Yes, I'll come over to yours tomorrow," Ian told him and Mickey nodded.

"Okay," he smiled, slightly. "Okay, it's a date."

Mickey stopped his car outside Ian's house the next day and walked up the driveway and knocked on the door. He figured Ian would need some help getting around, because he was badly bruised and in a lot of pain. Frank opened the door and gave him a smile.

"Nice to see you again, Mickey," he greeted him, standing back and allowing him space to walk inside.

He closed the door and shouted to Ian that Mickey was here.

"That Kenny kid," Frank said. "They put him on probation."

"Is that all?" Mickey asked, feeling his blood running faster in his veins.

"Yep," Frank said. "He's still a minor, so there isn't a lot they can do."

"Still, it's not fair," Mickey sighed.

"I know," Frank agreed,

"Stop complaining and open the door for me."

Mickey looked across the room at Ian, standing there clutching his stomach, his face twisted painfully. Mickey smiled, because he looked like himself again. he was wearing the sequined vest and the tight pants and the intricately designed boots and his hair was coiffed and styled the way he always had it.

Mickey opened the front door and watched as Ian walked slowly towards it, a scowl on his pale face.

"Call me if you need me, okay, Ian?" Frank said, walking towards the door.

"I'll be fine, dad," Ian sighed and stepped outside. Mickey followed him and they said goodbye to his dad.

"You okay?" Mickey asked.

"I'm fine," Ian said. "Just get me out of here. I know he means well, but if I get offered another can of soda or a sandwich, I might be forced to pull my hair out."

"Oh, we wouldn't want that," Mickey chuckled and opened the passenger door of his car.

"This must be very important if you're making a cripple leave his warm bed to go to your house," Ian said, once inside. Mickey closed the door and went around the other side. He got in, too and fastened his belt. Ian was muttering obscenities under his breath as he clipped his own belt in.

"Are you done complaining?" Mickey asked in amusement.

"Not by a long shot, let's go."

"I'm leaving her."

Ian stared at Mickey, unsure of what to say.

"I said I'm leaving her," Mickey repeated.

"Yeah, I got that," Ian nodded." Can you clarify who you mean by 'her' and what you mean by 'leaving'? Because I kind of can't believe my ears."

"I," Mickey said, clearly. "Am breaking up with Quinn."