The only thing she can think to compare it to is hanging off the edge of an abyss. One she's always known was there and one that she'd accepted the oddities of until then. But all of a sudden how deep and dark it really was hit her all at once and she was terrified; terrified where she'd never been before in her life.

But she couldn't look away. She couldn't stop staring down into the darkness.

And it was a dual sort of hit, a kick to the ribs when you were already down; because she was suddenly terrified and stupid. So incredibly stupid.

It all happened at her own wedding, which was twisted and so predictable in its own right. It was just in some shitty hall, split down the middle, one side packed with Gallaghers and all their extended lot and the other ridiculously empty in comparison. But she had Mickey there, fresh out of jail for some bullshit she couldn't remember and standing there in the back room with her, sucking on a cigarette.

Mickey who would always be so incredibly constant in her life. He never changed and she was glad for it. He was on the far side of twenty six now and still the wrong side of dirty. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap deodorant clung to him like it always had and the sight of him stuffed into a suit with his tattooed fingers tugging at his collar made her smile.

He was her big brother, angry and dirty and so protective it was sometimes ridiculous and more often than not comforting. And she thought, even though he'd deny it, even though he'd say it was her and not him, Mickey would always be the best of them.

She'd said once that Lip was the best person she'd ever known, too good for the Southside. And maybe it all worked so well because even she had believed that lie to be the truth when she'd told it. But Lip wasn't too good for the Southside, he fit too well for that. No, it was Ian that had never fit, who would always be too good because he never would do. He was a piece from a completely different puzzle and maybe that was why she would always be a little bit in love with him.

Mandy had never known how to pick anything but all the wrong pieces to the puzzle that was her life.

And she thought maybe Mickey didn't either in his own way – belong that was.

His life seemed to flit around, never staying in one place for too long even though he never left the same area. And with each year that passed his eyes seemed to cloud over more and more, like with every breath he was forcing himself not to be somewhere else. Somewhere better. And he was losing that battle. She wondered what it could be in his head that he clung to so completely, because if there was one thing she knew about her brother, it was that when he'd decided something was his, he didn't let it go. Ever.

Even if everyone else thought he'd never been holding on in the first place.

"I can't do this," she muttered out loud, biting at the edge of her finger, spitting out a piece of flesh. This isn't the world she was made for. She only knew how to be a Milkovich, not a Gallagher and the thought of getting it wrong terrified her.

Mickey blinked and scratched at the corner of his mouth, staring at her for a long moment. "Yes you can," he said bluntly, "He's a fucking Gallagher and even if you fuck it up, it'll still be the best ride of your life."

She supposed she should have realised then just what he was saying from the look on his face. But she didn't get it, would never get it even though it had always been right in front of her. So instead she snorted and said, "I thought you didn't like him."

Mickey shrugged. "I don't," he replied, biting at his bottom lip, "But at least I know it ain't gonna be hard to kick his ass if he hurts you."

Mandy snorted and rolled her eyes, because she should have seen that response coming really. "You going to walk me down the aisle then?" she asked, although they both knew it wasn't really a request. She didn't have anyone else to do it for her and even if she did, she'd still pick Mickey.

Their dad had done a runner a long time ago and although Iggy was there with his wife, they would never be all that close. She would admit though that he'd straightened up since he'd had his own kid. Tony was dead, or at least that was according to Joey the last time he'd breezed in. Whether there was any truth to it Mandy didn't know, but none of them had seen him and none of them particularly cared.

She hadn't even bothered inviting Joey to the wedding, she'd known he wouldn't have come.

"Fucking said I would didn't I?" he barked at her, holding out his arm and giving her a look that clearly said she fucking owed him for this. It had been hard enough getting him to agree to wear a suit – Read: forcing him into it before the effects of a knee to the balls wore off – and she'd known there might be a catch when it had been comparatively easy to get him to agree to this.

Her eyes skimmed over the crowd when they walked out, faster than brides were probably supposed to walk, with Mickey jumping awkwardly on the balls of his feet with each step, his eyes flitting about. Iggy's son Charlie was sitting at the very front row of her side of the room, looking nothing like a Milkovich and so incredibly gay even at nine.

Which surprisingly was something Iggy had pointed out to her once while drunk and when she'd said she was proud of him for not beating the kid straight he'd just shrugged and muttered something about wanting to do better than their old man had. She'd corrected him with, "Would have done," but he'd just stared at her then for a long minute before dragging his ass up and passing out in his old room.

She still didn't really understand that conversation.

Mandy supposed there was probably something fundamentally wrong in the fact that her eyes found Ian's face on the front row of the Gallagher side first, before she looked at Lip. His red hair was like a beacon to her, even cropped so close to his scalp. His eyes were darting between her and Mickey and she couldn't work out who he settled on, but there was something complicated and confusing about the expression on his face.

And then her eyes met Lip's and he smiled, lopsided and stupid and so incredibly happy looking and the world dropped out from underneath Mandy's feet.

"How did you find out?" she asked, sitting down next to Iggy at the table he was occupying by himself, watching his wife and son dance together on the makeshift dance floor in the Alibi.

He frowned at her before his eyes followed hers over to the two figures at the bar. Ian and Mickey were sitting closely together, Mickey's knee touching Ian's thigh and his eyes never leaving Ian's face for a moment. They were talking lowly about something Mandy didn't know and didn't particularly want to either, both of them holding beers that they hadn't drunk from in over half an hour.

And this was why Mandy felt stupid. This was why she felt like her entire life didn't make sense until that moment, because so many things seemed to lurch into focus and she didn't know how she couldn't have seen it until then. She didn't know why it had taken seeing Ian and Mickey looking at each other like there was nothing else in the world going on around them for her to understand.

It was so simple, so ridiculous and it must have happened a thousand times in front of her; and yet it hadn't clicked until right that very moment.

Iggy looked back at her and shrugged. "About Mickey?" he asked, taking a pull from his beer and then scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly, "Since he was like five or some shit and smashed up some kid's toy for insulting a redhead he thought was pretty." Iggy grimaced as if to say, one guess who that was.

"And about them?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Since I stopped dad from beating the crap outta Mickey," he told her, "I got him high, made him fess up about everything." He grimaced again, "Kinda wish I hadn't, made me feel like I was in the middle of some great big fucking love story." He shuddered, "And I ain't got time for that soppy crap."

Mandy rolled her eyes. "So what happened to Dad?"

He fixed her with a long look. "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to Mandy," he told her and they both left it at that; but they both knew he'd just given her all the answers anyway.

And later, when she had Lip's arm slung over her waist and her face buried in a pillow that smelled like the two of them, she couldn't help but think about how maybe Ian had been a piece from a different puzzle after all and she didn't think she could be blamed in calling him hers all this time. He'd always been a close fit, but he'd been for a picture of a Milkovich fairytale that wasn't hers and never would have been.

The piece that was Ian had always belonged to Mickey.

And Mandy supposed actually, she was okay with that.