You And Me (Gallavich)

Murder Solutions

Mickey didn't sleep at all the following night.

He tossed and turned, went to the bathroom at least 20 times, paced the empty house before dropping down exhaustedly on the couch in the living room.

With tired eyes, Mickey stared up at the stained ceiling of the Milkovich house pondering his decisions.

Usually, it wouldn't be so hard for him to cover up a crime he was involved in. Obviously, with the help of his brothers and their colleagues, he could cover up the fucking OJ Simpson case. Unfortunately, humiliation tugged at Mickey's chest. There's no way in hell he'd want to explain to his brothers that his fucked up companion, the infamous Ian Gallagher, is literally just as fucked as Mickey said he wasn't.

Fuck, Mickey would do anything for the red head. He really would. He just doesn't know what to do. There's nobody to ask help from.

Mickey sat up, grabbed a random paper and pencil lying on the coffee table and began sketching out solutions.

***

Ian flicked the card, chewing his bottom lip nervously. He sat at the dugouts, waiting for James, Mickey's work friend, to show up. Ever since the other day when James had offered Ian a job dealing drugs, it's been one of the only things on Ian's mind. The money sounded great, it was a lowkey business, and like James had said: nobody suspects a queer red head.

James appeared suddenly through the 3am darkness and fog, holding a package of some sort in his hands. He approached Ian silently, his body covered with a black hoodie and a jacket on top. To Ian, he looked suspicious as fuck.

“Mickey doesn't find out,” James spoke, startling Ian. Ian nodded. “Nobody does. You make the runs, I pay you. The address and name is on top of every package. Every delivery you lose, use, or waste, gets taken from your paycheck and you get your ass jumped. If the buyer refuses to pay, your job is to beat their ass or run, then report them to me. Don't try to be a hero.

“Every small delivery gets you $100. Big packages get you up $500. If I'm feeling good and you stay a good worker, I'll tip every now and then. Speaking of, buyers can also tip sometimes. You can try asking for more than the original price to make extra cash, as long as you don't fuck up the buy. Put the money in an envelope and bring it to me at the time and place which I will text you. Don't ever text me, I text you. Otherwise we meet right here. Are we clear?”

Ian cleared his throat, head swimming with all these instructions. “We're clear.”

James put the package in Ian's hands. Through the faint streetlights, Ian noticed the serious and deadly expression in James's eyes. “Don't fuck this up, Gallagher.”

Ian looked down at the address. Great, now he had to journey through the shittiest part of the south side.

***

Mickey could only come up with two solutions.

One: Ian had to go.

He had to change his name, profile, all of that and create a new identity. Then, go far away until this case dies down. Sure, it was create a shit load of drama since the cops would be sure he killed Kash since he suddenly disappeared, but at least Ian would be far away from the cops looking for him.

Two: throw Maria under the bus.

Maria was also highly involved in the murder. She fucking helped bury the body, for Christ's sake. The only reason, and Mickey is sure of this, that there was no proof or evidence of Ian's DNA anywhere around the crime scene is because Maria was there and she made sure they both covered their tracks. Mickey is grateful for that in a way that he can never express out loud. But Maria isn't that good, she must've left a piece of evidence somewhere. If Mickey manages to go all the way to Missouri, find her and find the evidence, he can convict her for the murder and all is well for him and Ian.