Chapter 21 – Fiona Couldn't Understand Where Her Misery Began
Tony fell silent, eyes glued to the video playing on William's phone.
Lip's drunken figure filled the screen — smashing the BMW, shouting obscenities, glass scattering everywhere.
When the video ended, the air between them grew heavy.
"Hey, buddy," Tony said after a long pause, forcing a stiff smile. "Mind if we talk… privately?"
William arched a brow.
He didn't need to guess — he already knew where this was going.
"Sorry, Tony," he said coolly. "You can help him once. Maybe even twice. But you can't protect him forever."
He gestured toward the destroyed BMW parked a few meters away, its front end mangled beyond recognition.
"The best teacher isn't you, or me. It's the world itself. And right now, it's time Lip learned a lesson.
If it weren't me — if it had been anyone else — this little tantrum would've cost him more than a lecture. That car alone's worth enough to bury him in debt."
Tony exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw tightening.
"He's still a kid, Will. Maybe just… give him one more chance?"
Of course he'd say that.
In the show, when Steve, Ian, and Lip were caught stealing a car, Tony was the same — bribing his colleagues with game tickets to get them off the hook.
A true, hopeless simp.
William almost pitied him. Almost.
"Tony, I did give him a chance," William said, his voice flat but heavy. "I lent him two thousand dollars this morning — gave him honest work to earn extra cash."
He tapped the wrecked car's hood.
"And this is how he thanked me."
Tony's mouth opened, but no words came.
He couldn't argue. Lip's actions were indefensible.
"Fine…" he muttered after a long silence, rubbing his forehead. "I'll file the report and leave it at that."
William smiled faintly. "Good man."
---
2119 Wallace Street – The Gallagher House
Lip sprinted home, heart still pounding from adrenaline.
Only when he reached the porch did he finally stop to look over his shoulder.
No one was chasing him. No police sirens. Not yet.
He let out a shaky breath and stepped inside.
In the kitchen, Fiona was setting the table, tending to dinner while keeping an eye on her younger siblings.
When she saw Lip rush in, face pale and eyes wild, she frowned in concern.
"What's wrong with you? Why are you out of breath? And what's that in your hand?"
Before he could react, she stepped forward and snatched the paper-wrapped bottle from him.
The moment she unwrapped the brown bag and saw the vodka label, her expression changed.
In that instant, she saw not her brother — but Frank.
"Lip, what the hell is this?"
Her voice trembled with anger. Fiona didn't mind him having a beer now and then, but vodka? That was Frank's poison. His curse.
And she'd be damned if Lip followed that same path.
Lip sighed, avoiding her eyes. For all his pride, he still respected her — back then, Fiona hadn't yet turned into the bitter, broken woman the world would later see.
"It's nothing. I just… had a rough day. Leave it alone, okay?"
He reached to grab the bottle back, but Fiona pulled it out of reach.
"Not a chance," she snapped, setting it aside.
Her tone softened slightly as she looked at him, worried.
"Lip… what happened?"
He clenched his fists. Family. Always with their questions, always with their judgment.
Still, when it came to real problems, the Gallaghers rarely kept secrets from one another.
Seeing Fiona's persistence, he finally gave in — recounting everything from the hospital visit to borrowing money from William, and finally… the BMW.
Fiona's eyes widened halfway through.
"Bullshit. Seriously?"
She stared at him, stunned.
The Gallaghers were many things — reckless, loud, shameless — but impotent wasn't one of them.
Six kids were proof enough that the family's fertility was alive and well.
"Why would I lie about that?" Lip muttered, pulling a crumpled sheet from his pocket.
Fiona unfolded it. Medical test paperwork. She skimmed the list of procedures, then stopped cold at the cost listed at the bottom.
"Jesus Christ… where'd you get the money for this?"
Lip hesitated, then exhaled.
"I borrowed it. From William."
At that name, Fiona's expression darkened.
For a brief moment, her face went blank — then tight, almost pained.
The memory of that night flickered across her mind, the one she tried not to think about.
"And then?" she asked quietly.
Lip swallowed.
"And then… I might've… broken his car."
"You what?!" Fiona exploded.
Her eyes blazed, her voice rising to a furious pitch.
"You smashed his car!? Are you insane, Lip?!"
He looked down, silent.
Fiona pressed a hand to her forehead, trembling. She didn't know whether to scream, cry, or laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Somewhere deep inside, she could already feel it — that creeping, invisible chain of misery tightening around her family again.
And she couldn't even tell when it had started.
Fiona was on the verge of losing control.
She clutched her head with both hands, staring at Lip in disbelief, her voice trembling.
Lip, now completely sober, could only stand there — silent, hollow-eyed, and realizing at last just how badly he'd screwed up.
"God…"
The word escaped Fiona's lips like a broken prayer.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the room around her. Her gaze fell on the half-empty bottle of vodka sitting on the table.
Without a second thought, she grabbed it — and took a long, burning swallow.
The liquor scorched her throat, searing its way down until her chest felt aflame. It was as if she needed the pain to stay grounded, to feel something other than despair.
"Did anyone see you?"
Her voice was sharp, urgent. She didn't care about the hangover, the screaming kids in the next room — all that mattered now was the fallout.
They needed to get ahead of it.
"...Yeah."
Lip hesitated, but lying would've been pointless.
That angry neighbor might not have gotten a perfect look, but he'd definitely seen his face.
The moment the word left his mouth, Fiona's fragile hope shattered completely.
Before she could respond — knock knock knock!
A heavy knock hit the door.
"Fiona! You home?"
Tony's voice.
Fiona's eyes widened.
"Oh, hell no!"
She grabbed Lip by the shoulders and hissed,
"Out the back — now! Don't you dare get caught!"
Lip didn't argue. Panic shot through him like lightning. He spun around and sprinted toward the back door, slipping out just as Fiona turned to face the front.
She took a deep breath, forced her trembling hands to still, and opened the door.
Tony stood there, the porch light reflecting off his badge.
"Hey, Tony… what's going on? Something happen with Frank? He's supposed to be in the hospital, isn't he?"
Her tone was light — too light — her smile strained, the kind that barely covered panic.
Tony, however, wasn't here for small talk. He leaned slightly, peering past her into the dimly lit house.
"Is Lip home?"
Fiona's head moved before she could think.
"No. He's not here."
"You sure?" Tony asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Positive. You… need something from him?"
Tony nodded.
"Yeah. He smashed someone's car. The owner filed a police report.
Fiona… if you know where he is, don't make this harder. It's serious."
And just like that, the last sliver of hope in her heart died.
Her face went pale. Her body swayed slightly, as if the air had thickened.
"I… I really don't know where he is," she whispered. "You can look if you want."
She stepped aside, leaning weakly against the wall.
Her mask finally cracked.
Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she covered her face, muffling the sobs that tore out of her chest.
Fiona Gallagher — always the strong one, always holding the family together — was breaking, piece by piece.
Why? she thought bitterly.
Why does it always have to be us?
Tony looked at her, his expression softening.
He wanted to say something — anything — but the uniform on his chest reminded him he couldn't.
Even if she was his goddess, the law came first. His partner stood behind him, watching.
So all he could manage was a quiet, helpless:
"I'm sorry."
Then he stepped past her, signaling his partner to begin the search.
---
Meanwhile, just a block away —
William stood waiting at the mouth of the narrow alley behind the Gallagher house.
The streetlight above him flickered weakly, painting his face in alternating flashes of light and shadow.
Footsteps echoed — hurried, uneven.
Lip came tearing through the alley, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, too panicked to look ahead.
He never noticed the figure waiting for him in the dark.
Until—
"Surprise, motherfucker."
William stepped out of the shadows, voice calm and sharp as a knife.
Lip froze mid-step — and for the first time that night, true fear replaced the rage in his eyes.