The Alibi.
Faced with Peg's death, Frank was a mess of happy and heartbroken all at once. He slipped straight into full motormouth mode and wouldn't shut up.
At first Kev tried to offer some comfort.
But after a while it was clear Frank wasn't stopping anytime soon, so Kev gave up and let him ramble. The regulars did the same—Tommy and the rest just kept drinking and talking like Frank wasn't even there.
Time slipped by. It was almost midnight.
One by one the drunks paid their tabs and left, even Billy, who barely ever spoke and was basically part of the wallpaper. Pretty soon the whole bar was empty except for Kev and a very drunk Frank.
"Frank, time to go. That's it for tonight," Kev said, straightening the last few chairs.
Frank's eyes were glassy. He looked at Kev, drained the last swallow of beer, then stood up, still muttering as he wobbled toward the door.
Kev watched him, shook his head gently, and actually felt a flicker of pity. Tonight Frank seemed pathetic and sad.
Outside the Alibi, Frank staggered down the sidewalk toward Sheila's house, still talking to himself.
He reached Sheila's door and pounded on it.
Sheila had gone to bed not long ago. The knocking woke her instantly. Guessing it was Frank, she got excited, jumped out of bed, and rushed downstairs.
The second she opened the door and saw him, Sheila squealed, "Oh, Frank! Where have you been? I was so worried I thought you were dead…"
Frank cut her off, looked her dead in the eyes, and started crying. "My mom died. I don't have a mom anymore…"
The words hit Sheila like a truck. She swallowed whatever she'd been about to say, pulled him into a tight hug, and cooed, "Oh, you poor thing. Come on, come inside. I'll run you a hot bath—you'll feel better…"
Upstairs at the landing, Karen—staying home tonight—had heard the noise and stepped out of her room. Listening to the whole exchange, she shook her head with a complicated look, said nothing, and quietly went back to bed.
Deep in the night.
Kind-hearted but definitely crazy Sheila went through a lot of trouble to get Frank cleaned up and into bed.
Frank curled into a ball and passed out almost immediately.
A new day. The sun came up like always.
The Gallagher house.
Fiona reeked of booze after sleeping on the couch all night. When the alarm went off she cracked one eye open, fumbled for her phone, killed it, and immediately passed out again.
Half an hour later Liam's crying finally dragged her awake. She sat up fast, followed the sound, and saw him standing in the crib, sobbing.
The sight hit her hard. Bits and pieces of the night before came rushing back. Guilt slammed into her. She scrambled over, dropped to her knees beside the crib, and apologized over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—I never should've left you here by yourself. That was all on me…"
Liam's diaper was heavy and uncomfortable. He just kept crying.
Fiona kept apologizing until she was finally awake enough to realize what she needed to do. Fighting through the hangover headache and dizziness, she lifted him out, found a fresh diaper, and changed him.
Right then Jimmy walked in carrying breakfast and coffee. He'd come early on purpose, knowing this morning was going to be rough for her.
He spotted Fiona changing Liam and smiled softly. "Feeling any better?"
Seeing Jimmy with food and coffee—and vaguely remembering he'd been there last night—Fiona felt a tiny bit of warmth cut through the mess. "Head's killing me."
"Drink some coffee when you're done. It'll help," Jimmy said.
Fiona nodded.
A few minutes later she set Liam back in the crib and collapsed onto the couch, exhausted.
Jimmy sat beside her and handed over the coffee and breakfast.
Fiona hadn't eaten properly in days; she'd been living on alcohol. She was starving. She tore into the food like a wild animal.
Jimmy watched, thinking she still looked kinda cute doing it.
Halfway through the meal, after a few sips of coffee, Fiona finally spoke. "You came by last night?"
Jimmy smiled and nodded. "You were wasted. I stayed till the middle of the night."
Fiona felt another small spark of warmth. She sighed. "So much shit happened… I don't even know what to do anymore…"
"What else happened?" Jimmy asked, curious—he still didn't know about Peg.
Fiona sighed again and told him. "Peg died yesterday evening…"
Once she started she couldn't stop. She talked for a long time.
There really was a lot. Jimmy listened, a little stunned, and lit a cigarette.
When she finished he blew out a slow stream of smoke and gently patted her thigh. "Carl's only eleven. He can't live alone. He'll come back. You don't have to rush him—give the kid some time."
Fiona gave a bitter little laugh. She wasn't sure she could even let herself hope anymore.
Seeing her reaction, Jimmy thought for a second… then an idea hit him that he knew would make her happy. "Fiona, a lot of things have two sides. Peg dying actually works in your favor."
"From what I know, inmates who aren't in for anything too serious can get temporary release for a family funeral—one or two days."
"We can check it out and get Debbie out of juvie for a little while."
The words landed.
Fiona's eyes flew wide open. She stared at him, shocked and thrilled. "You can do that? Debbie can come home?"
Jimmy smiled gently and corrected her. "Probably just for a day or two—not permanently home."
"Still the best news I've heard in forever. What do I have to do?" Fiona was practically vibrating with excitement.
"I don't know the exact process, but how about this—you shower, get yourself together, and we'll head over to juvie and see what they need," Jimmy suggested.
"Yes!" The thought of Debbie coming home had Fiona so pumped she agreed instantly. She shoved the rest of breakfast aside, grabbed her coffee, and bolted upstairs.
Halfway up the stairs she stopped, spun around, and asked with a big grin, "Together?"
Jimmy grinned right back and didn't even hesitate.
A few minutes later the upstairs bathroom turned into a full-on battle—lips, tongues, hands, the works.
By nine o'clock Fiona looked halfway human again. She scooped up Liam, climbed into Jimmy's car, and they headed for juvie.
Juvie ran on a strict schedule.
By now Debbie had mostly gotten used to it—wake up on time, eat on time, walk around on time, play on time. No decisions, no money to earn. What was there to complain about?
Ten in the morning.
Debbie was in the library, reading quietly. She still liked books at this stage—before the boy-crazy phase took over—even if she didn't totally understand why reading mattered.
She was focused and calm.
Across the facility, Fiona, Jimmy, and Liam sat in the warden's office.
Fiona explained everything, face full of hope.
The conversation went smoothly.
Inmates who still had rights could get temporary leave for a close family funeral. The facility had to allow it or risk getting sued.
The warden didn't drag it out. He told Fiona exactly what paperwork was required—death certificate, proof of relation, etc.
"Bring all that in, we'll fit Debbie with an ankle monitor, and she can go home with you. But remember—only twenty-four hours. She has to be back before time's up," the warden said.
Just knowing Debbie could come home—even for a single day—had Fiona glowing. She nodded fast. "Yes, yes, I promise!"
They wrapped up the details.
When everything was settled, Fiona thanked the warden, grabbed Liam, and headed with Jimmy toward the visitation area.
After a short wait, a guard brought Debbie out.
Seeing her sister after all this time, Fiona's nose stung and her eyes filled with tears.
Debbie had obviously lost weight. The baby fat was gone from her face, replaced by a maturity that didn't belong on a girl her age.
Debbie saw Fiona and Liam and gave a small, genuine smile. She sat down and spoke first. "Fiona. Liam."
Up close, hearing Debbie's voice, Fiona couldn't hold back anymore. Tears spilled over. "Debbie, are you okay? You look so thin. Is the food bad in there…"
Fiona launched into a nonstop stream of worried questions.
Being cared about felt good.
In this world, who really wants to be alone and forced to act strong forever?
Debbie felt a warm glow. The little bit of baby fat still left on her cheeks made her smile bigger. She shook her head. "It's not the food. I've been working out every day—trying to lose weight…"
The sisters caught up for a minute.
Time was short, so Fiona forced herself to get to the point. She told Debbie about Peg's death and that she could come home for one day.
Debbie blinked, surprised—not because Peg was dead (she barely felt anything for her grandma), but because she could actually leave.
The Gallagher house…
Debbie instantly remembered everything the therapist had said.
The Gallagher house was a bottomless pit. Once you fell in, you just kept sinking.
She was genuinely wary of it now.
But wariness or not… getting out of this place for even a single day, breathing fresh air, walking around—it was tempting as hell.
'And it's only one day. Should be fine.'
After a short internal debate, Debbie nodded. "Okay."
Fiona lit up like a Christmas tree. "When you get out we'll throw a party and celebrate!"
Debbie frowned. "Grandma just died and we're throwing a party?"
Fiona waved it off. "That old bitch is dead. Has nothing to do with us. Party's still on."
Debbie's frown deepened. She couldn't help thinking the therapist had been right—Fiona really wasn't okay.
"No party. Just make something good to eat," Debbie said seriously.
Fiona, still riding high, didn't even register the objection. She nodded. "Whatever you want."
With that, the important stuff was covered.
A little visitation time remained.
Debbie glanced at Jimmy, curious. "Jimmy's back?"
Fiona still hadn't figured out how to handle Jimmy—she was basically just stalling—so the question made her head hurt. "It's complicated…"
Debbie gave a small laugh. "Your love life is always complicated."
Fiona's brow twitched; the comment felt a little shady. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Debbie shrugged. "Nothing. How are Lip and Ian?"
Fiona's headache got worse. She stayed quiet for a second, then answered. "Not great. Lip moved out. Ian unfortunately inherited Monica's bipolar disorder…"
She gave the short version.
Debbie was genuinely shocked. "What? How did that happen?"
Fiona opened her mouth to explain.
Right then visitation time ended. The guard stepped up and told Debbie it was time.
"Debbie, when you get out I'll explain everything," Fiona said quickly, standing up.
"Okay," Debbie replied.
A few minutes later Fiona, Jimmy, and Liam left juvie and climbed back into the car.
"Police station next. We need to get all that paperwork today, then bring it straight back here. Clock's ticking," Fiona ordered Jimmy.
She was so focused on family she didn't even consider that Jimmy might have his own plans for the day.
Luckily Jimmy was used to it. He lit a cigarette, smiled, and pulled out without a word.
Not long after, they were on the road for the second trip to juvie that day.
On the way, Fiona—who seemed like a completely different person from this morning—chattered happily about party plans, face glowing, full of energy again.
Jimmy sneaked a few glances and was honestly amazed.
Debbie coming home for one day had pulled Fiona out of that rock-bottom state that easily?
What the hell kind of hold did these kids have on her?
Whatever it was… it was straight-up unhealthy.
Jimmy kept driving and let his mind wander.
Fiona didn't notice. She was too busy planning the party.
Wait—Debbie had said no party?
Fiona was the big sister, and she had a very strong big-sister complex.
She decided Debbie only said no because she thought Fiona wouldn't want one. Once Debbie saw the party she'd be thrilled…
Fiona was sure she was right.
So the party was happening.
Jimmy tuned back in, caught what she was saying, and almost reminded her that Debbie had specifically asked for no party. But he thought about Fiona's control-freak tendencies and kept his mouth shut.
'Stay out of Gallagher family business!' he told himself silently.
A little after two in the afternoon.
Frank had drunk so much the night before that he slept straight through until now. He lay there groggy for a minute, then realized the bed was wet. He yanked the covers back.
Oh. He'd pissed the bed.
Frank didn't even bother looking twice. He scratched his head, got up, found his clothes, and got dressed.
Only then did he remember Peg was dead. Sadness crept back onto his ugly face.
After a short hesitation he decided to go check on her—see what the old bitch looked like now that she was gone. He headed downstairs.
Sheila, sweet as ever, had been waiting on the first floor. Hearing footsteps, she jumped up and rushed to the stairs, looking up anxiously.
A few seconds later she saw Frank and immediately fussed, "Frank, you're up! I saved you lunch—everything you like."
Frank was actually pretty sick of Sheila and her over-the-top cooking, but he put up with it to keep a roof over his head—just like he put up with her weird kinks.
"Not hungry. Gotta go see my mom," Frank said. He could go days without eating and barely notice.
Sheila glanced sadly at the food on the table. "I wish I could go with you. I should be by your side at a time like this."
If Frank were a normal person he might have been touched.
But Frank wasn't normal. To him Sheila was just a useful crazy woman.
"No need. I got it," he said, forcing a fake smile as he kept walking toward the door.
Sheila really wanted to help and followed him. "Frank, maybe there's something I can do without leaving the house—like cook extra food for the funeral…"
Listening to her chatter, Frank got irritated. Sheila felt like a fly buzzing nonstop in his ear.
"Don't need anything. I'm in a hurry. See you later," he snapped, speeding up and ignoring her.
A moment later Frank stepped outside. Sheila stopped at the door, unable to follow. "Frank, come home early!"
Once he was out of the house and the buzzing stopped, Frank felt a lot lighter. He didn't answer, just walked fast toward 2114 North Wallace.
2114 North Wallace.
The front door was locked—Carl wasn't back yet.
Frank pushed it, found it wouldn't open, and immediately circled around to the back.
The back door was unlocked. He walked right in and spotted Peg's wheelchair.
Staring at it, Frank zoned out for a second, almost seeing the old bitch still sitting there.
He shook his head hard, face twisted with grief, and spat, "You're finally fucking dead! You can't torture me anymore!"
Then he lit a cigarette, took a hard drag, and headed straight for Peg's room.
Inside, surrounded by her things, Frank zoned out again.
Then he tore the place apart, ripping open drawers and cabinets, hunting for anything valuable Peg might have left behind.
Time passed.
Frank turned the whole house upside down and found nothing worth a damn. Pissed off, he raided the fridge, grabbed every beer, and stormed out like a fisherman who refused to go home empty-handed.
Right before he left he snarled at the empty house, "Fuck you, Peg!" and slammed the door.
Then, drinking as he walked, he headed for the L train.
Frank was going to Cook County psych ward to see Monica.
A little after three in the afternoon.
Cook County psych ward.
Frank found Monica.
The second he saw her he started bawling. "Mom's dead."
Monica was crazy, sure, but deep down she was still kind.
Hearing the news and seeing Frank like this, she immediately felt bad. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."
Frank cried even harder. "I'm an orphan now. That old bitch abandoned me one last time."
Monica comforted him the best she could.
Time passed with the two of them like that.
Before long visitation was almost over.
"Frank, I get out tomorrow morning at eight. I'll come with you to handle your mom's stuff. Don't worry…" Monica told him.
Frank's eyes lit up. He nodded hard. "Good. I'll wait for you."
Monica smiled.
Visitation ended. Frank wobbled out of the psych ward but didn't go far. He followed his nose to the usual spot where the addicts hung out and blended right in.
He decided to wait there until morning, then pick Monica up and head home.
A few days had passed. Lip's leg had healed enough that he could put weight on it again—just not too much, or it still hurt.
That morning he'd gone to the Alibi, dropped off the product, grabbed a quick lunch, then headed straight to the Gallagher backyard and took the work van.
Last night's talk with Karen had hit him hard.
Today Lip only cared about one thing: making money—lots of it—so he could give Karen the good life she wanted.
PUA really worked.
Right now he was in the park, hustling hard.
Business was good.
This rundown park was basically the only hangout spot for a lot of people in the neighborhood.
Lip worked with real energy, full of drive.
The whole Karen-and-Mickey thing… he hadn't forgotten it. He just didn't care anymore.
Across the park, off to the side.
Mandy had spotted Lip walking by the restaurant at lunch, taken the afternoon off, and come looking for him. She'd been standing there smoking and watching him work for a while now.
She finished another cigarette, took a deep breath, and finally walked over.
"Hey, Lip," the pure-love warrior said, stepping up to the service window, a little nervous and shy.
Lip looked at her. His emotions were a tangled mess.
Truth was, he really wished Mandy had never made that phone call yesterday.
If she hadn't, he never would've known about Karen and Mickey, and none of this would've happened. Karen would still be with him.
From that angle, Lip was a little mad at Mandy.
But logically he knew she'd only been trying to help… and he didn't want to be kept in the dark…
So from that angle he was also grateful.
It was complicated.
"You buying something? No big ones right now," Lip said, keeping it all business because of the complicated feelings.
Mandy wasn't there to buy. She looked a little disappointed. "Just a soda, I guess."
She paused.
Her pure-love-warrior nature meant she didn't give up easily. She'd come this far. "You okay? Want to talk? I was worried about you after I called yesterday."
Lip blinked.
He didn't care that Karen had slept with Mickey, but he still wanted details. "Get in the van."
Mandy's heart jumped with joy. She climbed in fast.
"Tell me exactly what you saw that day," Lip said the second she was inside, dead serious.
Mandy was a little confused but the joy of being close to Lip overrode it.
The pure-love warrior had liked Lip for a long time and was willing to do almost anything for him.
She started talking, describing everything exactly as she remembered.
Lip listened in silence. His face got darker and darker.
When she finished he lit a cigarette and took several hard drags, obviously pissed. "Thanks."
Seeing him like that, Mandy felt bad. She hurried to explain. "I thought about it for days before I called. I wasn't sure if I should tell you. I'm sorry…"
Lip looked at her, shook his head gently. "Don't apologize. You did the right thing. I needed to know. Thank you."
Mandy relaxed a little. Then, after a short hesitation, she forced herself to ask the nervous question. "So… you and Karen now?"
Lip blew out a long stream of smoke. "I don't even know what we are. We're not broken up, but we're not together either."
"??????" Mandy, the pure-love warrior, couldn't wrap her head around that. "Want to tell me about it? I can help you figure it out. I'm a woman—I understand women."
Lip wasn't the type who usually opened up to people.
But the Karen situation was complicated as hell.
After thinking it over he sighed quietly and decided to tell her a little.
Mandy listened quietly. When he finished she was furious. "??????"
As a pure-love warrior she immediately knew Karen was playing Lip.
And that made it way easier to justify stealing him.
Still, she could tell Lip really liked Karen, so she was smart enough not to badmouth her.
Mandy stuck to safe, neutral comments.
When she finished she added, "Maybe this is actually a good thing. You're so good-looking. Take some time apart, see other people—you might find something new."
Lip was smarter than most guys his age when it came to this stuff. He caught her meaning immediately… and felt a spark of interest.
Mandy looked different these days. She wasn't the old goth-punk girl anymore. She dressed nicely, looked hot…
Plus, guys are guys. Something new is always tempting.
Lip thought for a second.
Decision made.
Mickey fucked Karen—he'd fuck Mickey's sister!
Revenge felt good!
Lip gave a sly little smile. "xxxx."
Mandy understood instantly.
A few minutes later.
Lip closed the service window, drove the van to a quiet corner of the park.
After that everything happened naturally.
Lip got the sweet taste of revenge.
Mandy felt like she'd finally gotten what she wanted.
Win-win.
Ten minutes passed in a flash.
The battle ended.
Lip drove back to keep selling.
Mandy—pure-love warrior in full effect—stayed to help, working hard and happily.
Before they knew it the sun was going down.
The park emptied out. Business was done for the day.
Lip, who had zero interest in anything serious with Mandy, lit a cigarette and told her, "I gotta head out. You should too."
Mandy's pure-love mode was running at maximum. She didn't pick up on anything else. She nodded sweetly. "Okay. I'll come help again tomorrow."
"..." Lip was a little speechless. "Don't you have work? If I need help I'll call you."
Mandy didn't really want to go back to work. She just wanted to stay glued to Lip. The comment cooled her pure-love high a little.
She remembered what she'd said about "trying other people" and realized Lip probably didn't feel anything for her yet. She felt disappointed.
But then she smiled again.
No feelings yet? That was fine. She could wait.
Mandy was confident she could crush that bitch Karen.
"Okay. Call me if you need anything," she said with a smile, then climbed out obediently.
Lip didn't say anything else. He drove off.