Chapter Text
The light spilled lazily through the leaves above them. The wind blew lightly, causing the light to dance along the ground. Ian was laying down a blanket while Mickey was supposed to be looking for firewood.
They had been traveling for 19 days and both of them decided that it was time to take a break for a few days. It was late afternoon before they found somewhere to settle down and set a temporary camp. Mickey leaned on a tree on the border of the clearing where Ian fussed about trying to set up the tent that was a bit of a bitch to set up.
By now they were somewhere in South Dakota. Ian wouldn't shut up about how beautiful it was to walk through the woods or along roads and see how much the world has grown since humans couldn't stop it. Something about purity or some shit, Mickey stopped paying attention after the fifth time he brought it up. They both agreed on one thing though: The amazing ability for nature to thrive even when faced with extinction. Mickey could have sworn that squirrels were all killed within the first few months of the outbreak, but yet there he was walking along in the woods one day when he sees two of those mother fuckers. He pointed it out to Ian when he saw them. They both stopped walking to stare at the game of tag the two squirrels were playing.
“Life always finds a way, Mick.” Ian leans over and whispers to Mickey.
“You some kind of philosopher now, Gallagher?” Mickey joked in the same hushed tone. Ian laughed and pushed Mickey. He looked over and saw the squirrels run off from the sound.
“No, but maybe when we find civilization I’ll look into it.” Ian said as he started walking again. Mickey quickly fell into step next to him.
“Okay, Socrates.” Mickey replied sarcastically.
Mickey stood there and stared at the way the sun made Ian's hair seem brighter than it actually was. He wouldn't say that out loud of course, he couldn't have Ian think that he was going soft and that it was okay to start saying all that sappy shit. Ian still does it but if Mickey did it too there was no doubt in his mind that Ian would dial that shit up about 10 notches.
“Are you even looking for firewood?” Ian called out to him once he noticed Mickey's lack of doing anything to help set up.
“Nope.” Mickey answered, popping the ‘p’ loudly because he knew Ian hated it. Ian sighed and rolled his eyes, directing his attention back to setting up the tent. They found it a couple weeks back when they stumbled upon an old camping ground. They had to kill two of the zombie mother fuckers, but they made out with a good amount of food and a tent that was partially intact. It had tears and holes all throughout it but it still held together and blocked out the cold nights better than a few thin leaves and a shitty blanket.
He pushed himself off the tree to actually walk around the area to find some dry logs that they could use so that Ian didn't start doing the passive-aggressive silent thing that he loved to do when he was mad at Mickey.
They hadn't gotten along perfectly during their trip so far, but they didn't get along perfectly when they were staying put so what did they really expect? They got into a lot of small arguments over dumb shit and two big arguments about things that neither of them have brought up since. One of them was about what they would do if they get to Washington and they don't find anything, or anyone. Ian, of course, said that they should keep looking. He wanted to travel down to Texas next, saying something about how Texans are persistent mother fuckers and could survive anything. Mickey wanted to go back to Chicago, wait for their family to find them. Ian said that it was stupid. “We can't give up on them, Mick!” Ian had yelled at some point in the argument. Mickey yelled back something about how that wasn't what he meant and called Ian a dickhead and a couple more things that he probably shouldn't have. Neither of them ever apologized for the mean things they said, even though they didn't mean it. Neither of them brought it up again, and as they got closer and closer to Washington Mickey knew that they would have to.
Mickey gathered an armful of sticks and made his way back to the clearing. By then Ian had finished setting up the tent and was laying under it.
“Here.” Mickey said as he dropped all of the logs and sticks unceremoniously on the ground a few feet away from the tent.
“Wow. Mickey Milkovich actually did something helpful. Never thought I’d see the day.” Ian said sarcastically with a hint of salt, staring up at the tent instead of looking at Mickey.
Their most recent fight, the other big one that they didn't bring up, had been only a few days before. Ian kept saying he wasn't mad, and sometimes he would act like it too, but whenever the smallest thing would happen he was pissed off all over again. This, in turn, pissed Mickey the fuck off. Who was this ginger prick to still be mad at him when he said he wasn't mad? The whole point of liking guys is so he wouldn't have to deal with that shit! And god forbid he ever say that little line to Ian again. All it did was earn him a full day of no talking and no sex. Which is the exact opposite of a solution. So instead of saying snide comments back, like the one that Ian had thrown at him, he grunted and started to arrange the wood into a semi-neat teepee.
Mickey sat by the fire pit even after he was done arranging all of the wood he had gathered because he didn't want to go in the tent with Ian. He could practically feel the steam coming out of his ears all day, which was one of the reasons why he suggested that they sit and chill for a few days. Maybe give both of them a chance to calm down and Ian a chance to spit out his feelings in hopes that Mickey will too. He won't, but trying makes Ian feel better. And when Ian feels better Mickey gets to have some nice peace and almost quiet.
And sure, Mickey knew that he was in the wrong and being totally unreasonable about his side of the recent argument but he can't help the way he was raised. Gay shit was bad shit. It was punishable by a life sentence of beating that would've been worse than what his father deal out already. So ex-fucking-cuse Mickey if he wasn't so keen of the idea of PDA still. And yeah, the world was shitty and and practically empty, but there still could be someone out there. Terry could still be out there. Mickey gets why Ian got so mad when Mickey freaked out about Ian trying to kiss him while they were traveling a few days back. Yeah, Mickey was being totally unreasonable. But he wasn't about to apologize and look like some bitch who says sorry first. Even if he wanted to. So he stayed by the fire pit and just thought.
It got darker a lot faster than he was expecting and soon his stomach started rumbling. He looked around him, trying to locate where their bags where before he saw that everything was in the tent. The one that Mickey didn't want to go into because Gallagher was mad at him. Just as Mickey was about to get up and start foraging for berries and shit, Ian made his way out of the tent with two cans of beans that they had found at the camp grounds.
“You haven't eaten in a while.” Ian mumbled and pushed one of the cans into Mickey's chest. Mickey gently took the can from Ian and spun it around in his hands. He thought about giving it back and refusing the offer out of spite, but he actually hadn't eaten in a while and he was beyond hungry.
“Thanks.” Mickey spoke quietly and opened the can, digging into with his fingers.
Ian hummed in response and they ate quietly. The empty air that Ian and Mickey left open bugs looking for mates filled with their songs. If the annoying chirps and clicks that those fuckers made could be called music. Sometimes, when Ian was in a good mood he would lay down, close his eyes, and just listen to it. He would get this little smile on his face, almost like he enjoyed it more than anything else. Ian hadn't done that in a while, though.
“You're right.” Ian said after a while. They had both finished eating and didn't really know where to go, so they were just sitting there. Mickey looked over at him and raised his eyebrows, waiting for Ian to explain what Mickey was right about.
“It would be better to go back to Chicago if we don't find them in Washington. Chicago is the first place they would look. And we know the area. We know it's safe.” Ian stared down at his hands the entire time he spoke, not looking at Mickey once.
Mickey wanted to agree with him, but there was something about Ian explaining his own argument back at him that made him see the flaw.
“Nah.” Mickey shook his head and didn't speak again until Ian looked up at him. “You were right the first time. If Chicago was the first place they would look then they would have found us a long time ago.”
“Maybe they couldn't look for us...” Ian trailed off. Mickey gave him a pointed look.
“Man, don't say that shit. They're alive. All of them. We just need to find out where the fuck they are.” Mickey spoke matter-of-factly, knowing that was the only way to get through to Ian when he was being weird. When he was being the cynical one and forcing Mickey to be optimistic. Their whole setup would fall apart if they were both being cynical.
Ian nodded but remained silent for a while.
Mickey was tired. He wasn't thinking quite right, because if he was he wouldn't have grabbed Ian's had. Mickey didn't hold hands. He didn't before and he shouldn't now. But Ian looked so defeated and Mickey was tired and he just wanted Ian to stop looking like someone killed his fucking dog in front of him. So he grabbed Ian's hand and intertwined their fingers, the way Ian always tried to.
Ian looked surprised for a moment, he stared down at their interlocked hands before daring a look up at Mickey. Mickey didn't look back at him, he stared steadily into the fire. He didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted it to be. He wanted Ian to just let them be. Finally Ian relaxed and rested his head on Mickey's shoulder. Mickey let him. They didn't talk about it.
When the fire started going out and they both got too cold to stay there, they went into the tent and slept until morning.
Ian stopped being as pissed at him. They didn't talk about anything, but something seemed to have been settled between them that set them back to normal. As normal as and Milkovich and a Gallagher could get, at least.
They still bickered and argued the entire way to Washington. They were in the middle of debating the planetary status of Pluto as they reached a sign welcoming them to Washington, the Evergreen State.
“Hold up.” Ian said, sticking his arm out to stop Mickey from walking. He pointed at the sign and smiled at Mickey. “We’re here.”
“Here or not, Pluto is still a fucking planet.” Mickey grumbled, not quite ready to give up on the conversation.
“Shut the fuck up, no it isn't.” Ian insisted, speaking again before Mickey could say anything further. “What city did you say Mandy went to?”
Mickey pulled out the map from his back pocket and opened it up. “Walla Walla.” Mickey told him, pointing to the city marked on the map. “We need a better map, man. How the fuck are we supposed to get there if we can't even see what fucking roads to take?” he complained out loud, roughly folding the map back up and shoving it back in his pocket.
“Forget the map for a second. What kind of fucking name is Walla Walla?”
“Willy Wonka's rap name.” Mickey joked, giggling as he said it.
Ian shook his head and took the map from Mickey's hands to hid his smile behind it.
The walk to Walla Walla felt like it was longer than the rest of the trip combined. They got a quarter way through Waitsburg before the sun was too low to give off any more light, and Ian suggested that they sleep the rest of the night and start again in the morning. Mickey agreed, too nervous about being so potentially close to either losing all hope, or gaining it all back to argue.
Neither of them got much sleep. Ian was up going through every scenario possible and practicing what he was going to say if- when- he saw his family again. He rehearsed every question and went through every story he had to tell them. He didn't let himself think about what he would do or say if he didn't find his family. Or if he only found some of them. He was going to see them all again, he had to. Ian finally fell asleep when the moon was far past the middle of the sky and morning was only a few hours away.
Mickey couldn't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong. What if him and Ian ran into a big group of those flesh eating mother fuckers? What if they can't fight them off? They definitely don't have enough ammo and they only had one knife and a shitty gun. They could die before they even reach their destination. Or maybe they'll make it and nobody's there. What if Mandy's not there?
He when through the same thoughts on repeat until he could see streaks of orange and yellow fill the skyline.
They didn't talk until they were just outside of Walla Walla. Mickey took a deep breathe and tried to rid his mind of left over bad scenarios from the night before. Ian looked over at him and then back at the city in front of them.
“Where should we go?” Ian asked, almost whispering.
“All the the big places first. Hospitals, prisons, shit like that.” Mickey told his as he looked around, trying to see if he could find a sign pointing them to the nearest hospital.
“I say we try the prison first. Even if they aren't there, we might be able to find some new weapons.”
“If they're held up in a prison like some Walking Dead shit I’m going to be so mad.” Mickey muttered. Ian laughed and lightly punched Mickey in the shoulder and started walking down the road.
As Ian and Mickey wandered around the city trying to find anything that would lead them to the closest prison Ian commented on something Mickey wished that he had forgotten about.
“39 days, Mick. How many did I guess? 38?” Ian looked over at him with his dumb cocky face. “Looks like I won.”
Mickey scuffed and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip. “You didn't win shit, Gallagher. ‘Cause we saw 48 of those cannibalistic mother fuckers and as I recall,” Mickey paused and pretended to count on his fingers. “I said 41, and you said 101. And 41 is a lot closer to 48 than 101, firecrotch.”
Ian rolled his eyes. “Then we both won. A tie.”
“Fuck that. I won.”
“In what fucking world?” Ian asked incredulously.
“‘Cause I killed more zombies than you.”
“Oh please!” Ian started protesting, until Mickey flung his arm out across Ian's chest to stop him from walking. In from of them was the Washington State Penitentiary. The fences that were supposed to be surrounding the building had been covered with stray sheets of metal and wood to make a wall. A few dead bodies surrounded the outside, from what the two could see, all of the bodies were of infected people.
“This is it.” Ian whispered.
“We don't know that yet. No one's out on patrol so we don't know if anyone is even in there. Or if they're still human.” Mickey told him. He couldn't get his hopes up. If Mickey let Ian dream too big and get crushed when it all inevitably falls apart, he'll be the one picking up the pieces. The less to pick up the better. And the faster they can both move on.
“Right.” Ian said after clearing his throat and standing up straighter. He audibly took a deep breath and slowly lead the way toward what looked to be the entrance of the prison fence.
“Even if nobody's inside, this place is bound to be stock full of shit we could use.” Mickey commented quietly as they walked. Ian nodded along but offered no input. He was too focused on trying to make his heart calm down.
They got about five feet in front of the gate when suddenly people with guns appeared over the walls. They pointed their guns and all started shouting at them at once. None of it was comprehensible, since all of them were saying different things, so Ian and Mickey looked at each other for a moment. They silently decided that the best thing to do was to put their hands up and back away a few feet. Neither of them had weapons in their hands, they were tucked away out of sight but easily reachable, just in case of things like this.
Suddenly all of the yelling stopped. A familiar voice filled the air, but neither of them could place it. A woman started yelling at the people with guns.
“What the fuck are you doing?” She yelled at them. There were mumbled answers but nothing that Mickey and Ian can hear. “You really woke me up for this shit? Two fucking kids without weapons is why the entire fucking camp is flipping the fuck out?!”
Ian finally realized who the voice was. He hadn't seen her in years.
“V!” Ian yelled out, moving his hands to cut around his mouth. Mickey stated stuttering out noises to tell him to shut up and tried to pull his arms away from his face. “Veronica! Veronica!” Ian continued to yell.
“Would you shut the fuck up before you get us killed!” Mickey ordered sharply.
Veronica's head popped up over the makeshift wall. She sucked in a breath and stared at Ian with her mouth open before softly saying his name. Ian couldn't hear her but he saw her do it. Ian nodded and waved back at her, yelling various half sentences out to her.
Mickey stood beside Ian and squinted up at the semi-familiar face. “That's your neighbor isn't it?” He asked openly. Ian looked over and nodded, but when they both looked back up at veronica, she was gone.
The doors to the large gate opened slowly. Veronica came running out and jumped into Ian's arms and squeezed him.
“Come on, come on. Boy we need to get you in here, come the fuck on!” Veronica ordered quickly pulling Ian toward the fence. “You too Milkovich!” She yelled over he shoulder.
Inside the gate was a large yard. There were multiple gardens and what looked like a play area for kids. It was a zombie movies wet dream. Lots of people. Lots of food. As far as they could tell nobody was eating people.
What Mickey noticed first was it was loud. It seemed like every single person left on the planet was there and surrounding them, asking questions like any of it was their fucking business.
Ian heard the screaming first. He whipped his head in the direction it came from and he was met with his family- all of them, Fiona, Debs, Carl, Lip, and even an almost grown up Liam- were running toward him. Fiona was the one who screamed, he noticed. Debbie was already crying, which made Ian start crying.
He had rehearsed everything he was going to say to them. But that all fell out the window as soon as his arms wrapped around Fiona and he remembered how scared he’d been before. How now, with her, with his family again, all of his fear went away. Sure, being with Mickey took away some fear, but he didn't notice how much left he had until it all disappeared.He quickly looked over at Mickey, smiling and crying, trying and failing to conversate with his family, and noticed Mickey was watching him. Mickey was smiling too.
Mickey watched as Ian reunited with his family. He was happy for him. His dreams came true. But Mickey was also jealous. Mickey didn't have family left to care for him like the Gallaghers cared for Ian. Besides Ian, Mickey was alone.
Until he heard her voice. Everything else went quiet, even though he could still see people shouting and talking.
“Mickey?” He heard quietly from behind him. The voice was disbelieving and broken, and it sounded as close to home as he even wanted to be.
Mickey spun around until he saw her. “Mandy.” He choked out. He stared at her and he felt his heart almost stop.
She was here. She was alive.
“Holy shit.” She breathed out before running over to him and wrapping her arms tightly around his middle.
“Jesus, Mandy, let me breath.” Mickey laughed as he hugged her just as tight. She told him to shut the fuck up and hugged him until both of them almost passed out from lack of oxygen.
“I'm glad we came here, Mick.” Ian had told him later that night. They had both showered and got haircuts, then assigned a bed. Then spent the rest of the day together as a family, with both of their families.
“Yeah,” Mickey sighed happily. “Me too.”