Chapter 37: The Confrontation
Mickey arrived at noon with three Milkovich cousins and enough weapons to start a small war.
Ben watched through the gap in his fortified garage door as they parked—two cars, one blocking the alley exit, strategic positioning that cut off escape routes. His Danger Intuition pulsed steady warnings but not screaming emergency. Violence was possible, not inevitable.
Ian appeared first, stepping between Mickey's car and the garage before anyone could exit.
"Mickey. Stop. Please."
Mickey got out slowly, gun visible in his waistband. The cousins stayed in their vehicles—backup, not participants yet. "Move, Ian."
"No. You're here because you're hurt and angry. I get it. But Ben didn't destroy your life—you getting caught destroyed your life. He just happened to be there."
"He stopped the robbery. Got me arrested. Cost me three grand and two months dealing with bail and court bullshit." Mickey's voice was tight, controlled rage barely contained. "And he knows about us. About you and me. That's dangerous information in the wrong hands."
Ben opened the garage door fully, stepped out. Fiona appeared beside him immediately—she'd been hiding inside against his orders.
"I'm not telling anyone about you and Ian," Ben said clearly. "That's your business, not mine."
"How do I know that? How do I trust someone who got me arrested?"
"Because I could've told the cops about your relationship when they questioned me. Could've used it as leverage. Didn't." Ben kept his hands visible, non-threatening. "I stopped the robbery because someone was about to die. Not to ruin your life specifically."
Mickey's hand moved toward the gun. Fiona tensed. Ian stepped closer to Mickey, desperate.
"He saved my life," Ian said. "The Kash shooting—I would've been there, would've been shot. Ben stopped it. He's the reason I'm alive right now."
Mickey's expression flickered. He knew Ian had been planning to help with the robbery before Ben's intervention. Knew Ian would've been in that store when bullets started flying.
"So what?" Mickey said, but his conviction wavered. "He still fucked up my plans."
"Your plans would've gotten you killed or imprisoned for decades," Ben said. "I stopped bad outcome before it happened. You're angry because consequences feel unfair. But alive and angry beats dead and right."
"You don't know that people would've died—"
"I knew. I always know." Ben's voice was firm. "That's my thing—seeing disasters before they happen, preventing them when I can. The Kash robbery was disaster waiting to happen. I stopped it. You got arrested. But you're alive and Ian's alive and nobody died. That's the better outcome even if it doesn't feel like it."
Mickey looked at Ian, at Ben, at Fiona standing beside Ben with her own defensive posture. His cousins watched from the cars, waiting for signals.
"You're saying I should thank you for getting me arrested."
"I'm saying you should recognize that being angry at me won't change what happened. And hurting me won't make your life better—just adds assault charges to your record." Ben gestured at the fortified garage. "I prepared for this confrontation because my danger sense told me it was coming. But I don't want to fight you. I want to de-escalate."
"De-escalate." Mickey laughed bitterly. "You sound like a fucking counselor."
"I sound like someone who's tired of violence solving problems that conversation could handle better."
Silence. Tension thick enough to cut. Ian moved to stand beside Mickey instead of between them—partnership, not mediation.
"He's telling the truth," Ian said quietly. "About knowing things before they happen. About trying to help. He's weird as hell about it but he's genuine."
Mickey's hand dropped away from the gun. "This is bullshit. You're both bullshit."
But the threat was fading. Ben's Danger Intuition confirmed—the violence potential was decreasing, confrontation resolving toward conversation instead of bloodshed.
"I'm not your enemy," Ben said. "I don't want to be. But if you need someone to blame for your arrest, blame me. Just don't act on it with violence."
"Why not? Violence is what Milkoviches do."
"Because Ian cares about you. And Fiona cares about me. And if we fight, they get hurt watching people they care about destroy each other." Ben met Mickey's eyes. "That's enough reason to walk away."
Mickey stared at him for a long moment. Then turned to Ian. "He's your friend?"
"Yeah."
"And you trust him? Even knowing about us?"
"I trust him more than I trust most people. He's saved my life twice now—the shooting and another thing you don't know about."
Mickey processed this. Finally nodded. "Fine. I'm walking away. But Ben—you ever use what you know about me and Ian as leverage, I'll come back and we'll finish this conversation with bullets instead of words."
"Deal."
Mickey signaled to his cousins. They left—cars pulling away, weapons staying holstered, violence avoided through conversation and Ian's mediation.
Fiona collapsed against Ben the moment they were gone. "Holy shit. That was terrifying."
"Yeah."
Ian looked between them. "Thanks. For not fighting. For letting me try to de-escalate."
"You did well," Ben said. "Better than I would've managed alone."
"Mickey's not a bad person. Just trapped in bad circumstances with limited options." Ian shoved his hands in pockets. "And now he knows you know about us. That's... complicated."
"It stays between us. I meant that."
"I know." Ian headed toward the house, stopped. "Fiona? Thanks for being here. For backing Ben up even when it was dangerous."
She waved him off, still processing adrenaline crash. After Ian left, she turned to Ben.
"You fortified your garage, prepared weapons, and planned for violence. Then chose conversation instead."
"Violence would've escalated. Ian's mediation gave us better option."
"You trusted him. Trusted that his relationship with Mickey was strong enough to prevent disaster." Fiona was looking at him with complicated expression. "That's... you keep doing that. Trusting people, giving them chances to choose better options. Most people in the South Side just assume violence is inevitable."
"Violence is easier. Conversation requires work." Ben started dismantling his defensive preparations—they weren't needed anymore. "But easier doesn't mean better."
Fiona helped him remove barriers, stow improvised weapons. They worked in comfortable silence until the garage looked normal again.
"The Jimmy thing," Fiona said suddenly. "When I had to choose between you and Steve. You told me to choose what I needed, not what you wanted. Today with Mickey, you did the same—let Ian mediate instead of controlling the situation yourself."
"Yeah."
"That's why I chose you. Not just because you show up, but because you show up without trying to control everything. You trust people to make their own choices." She set down a crowbar, faced him directly. "I'm falling in love with you. Have been for a while. Just wanted you to know."
Ben's heart stuttered. "I'm already in love with you."
"Good." She kissed him—brief, certain, promise of more. "Let's figure out what that means. Together."
Two days later
Detective Morrison called Ben in for another interview.
He sat across from her in the same interrogation room where Frank had betrayed him, waiting for consequences to land. His Danger Intuition hummed warnings but nothing catastrophic.
"Mr. Fisher," Morrison began. "I've spent the past week investigating your counter-testimony and Frank's original statement. Found some interesting discrepancies."
"Such as?"
"Timeline issues, like you mentioned. But also financial records that don't support Frank's claims about your operation scale. And witness testimony suggesting Frank had multiple criminal enterprises operating independently of your repair work." Morrison leaned back. "Turns out Frank Gallagher is a career criminal who's lied to police before. Who would've guessed?"
"So you believe my version?"
"I believe Frank tried to throw you under the bus to save himself. I believe you were involved in some illegal activities but not the organized fraud operation Frank described." Morrison pulled out papers. "Here's my offer: plead guilty to receiving stolen property, pay restitution, do community service. Misdemeanor, no jail time, clears this case and lets me focus on actual criminal networks."
Ben's MacGyver Mind processed the deal—favorable compared to conspiracy charges, survivable compared to prison. Frank had failed to destroy him completely.
"And Frank?"
"Frank gets the same deal for his testimony about other criminal operations. He cooperates on bigger fish, we let the jewelry fraud slide with slap on wrist." Morrison's expression was professionally neutral. "You both walk away with records but not prison sentences. That's the best resolution available."
"I accept."
Paperwork, processing, official legal consequences that were manageable instead of catastrophic. Ben left the police station with misdemeanor conviction and $2,000 restitution payment plan—expensive but survivable.
Frank was waiting outside, smoking.
"Heard you took the deal," Frank said.
"Yeah. You?"
"Same. Guess we both survive to screw each other over another day." Frank's tone was bitter. "You know the funny part? I actually respected you. Thought you were smarter than the average mark."
"I respected you too. Until you proved respect was wasted."
"That's South Side, kid. Respect is luxury. Survival's necessity." Frank stubbed out his cigarette. "But for what it's worth—you're good for my kids. Better than I am. So thanks for that. And sorry for the betrayal. Nothing personal."
He left. Ben stood in cold November air processing the resolution—legal consequences managed, violence avoided, Mickey neutralized, Frank's betrayal survived.
Fiona was waiting at the garage when he returned. "How'd it go?"
"Misdemeanor, restitution, community service. I'm not going to prison."
She grabbed him, kissed him hard, relief and joy mixed together. "Good. Because I just told V we're together and she screamed so loud she scared customers. You're stuck with me now."
"Stuck implies I want to leave."
"Do you?"
"Never."
They held each other in garage afternoon light, relationship formalized, disasters survived, future opening ahead with terrifying possibility.
That was more than enough.
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