Chapter 39: January Decisions
January brought cold that made Ben's garage feel like a refrigerator with ambitions.
He worked on an engine while considering impossible questions: when was the right time to propose? Three months was objectively fast. Six months was traditional. A year was safe.
But South Side timelines didn't follow traditional rules. Crisis came frequently. Stability needed cementing before disaster returned.
His Danger Intuition had been escalating lately—not immediate threats, but spring approaching with shadowy wrongness. Someone new entering Fiona's orbit. Cocaine somewhere in the probable futures. Handcuffs and courtrooms and Fiona separated from him by legal consequences.
Robbie. Has to be. Season 2's chaos approaching right on schedule.
Ben set down his wrench, pulled out his phone. Checked finances: shop was averaging $1,200 weekly after employees and expenses. Two months of careful saving could buy a modest ring. Three months would make it real—quality that lasted, not cheap metal that turned fingers green.
"You're thinking too hard," Lip said from the doorway. "Can hear your brain grinding from outside."
"Just planning."
"Planning what?" Lip entered, closed the door against January wind. "World domination? Another impossible rescue? Or something normal for once?"
Ben considered lying, decided against it. "Thinking about proposing to Fiona."
Lip went very still. "Proposing. Like marriage."
"That's generally what proposals mean."
"You've been dating three months."
"Two and a half. Will be three by February."
"Three months, Ben. People date for years before proposing. Hell, people live together for years before considering marriage." Lip lit a cigarette despite the garage being Ben's workspace. "What's the rush?"
Ben's Danger Intuition pulsed warnings about spring. He couldn't explain foreknowledge, couldn't say "because I know disaster's coming and want legal commitment established first."
"No rush. Just certainty." Ben wiped grease off his hands. "I know what I want. Know Fiona's it. Waiting longer doesn't make me more sure—just delays making official what's already true."
"You sound crazy. You know that?"
"Probably. But I'm crazy about your sister, so it tracks."
Lip smoked, processed, analyzed with that particular intensity he brought to everything. "You really love her. This isn't some... I don't know, hero complex thing where you're trying to save her?"
"I love her. Completely. The saving is just side effect of being around Gallaghers—everyone needs saving constantly."
"Fair." Lip stubbed out his cigarette. "She'll say yes. You know that? Because you're the first guy who's shown up consistently, who treats the kids like family, who makes her feel like she's not drowning alone. She'll say yes and then you're stuck with us forever."
"That's the plan."
"You're insane. But okay. When are you doing this?"
"February. After I save enough for a real ring. After I figure out how to propose without being cliché or embarrassing her." Ben pulled out his phone, showed Lip the spreadsheet tracking savings. "Need about $800 for something decent. Another month of careful budgeting gets me there."
Lip studied the numbers. "You're really doing this."
"Yeah."
"Then you'll need help. Coordinating family, getting Fiona there without suspicion, making sure Frank doesn't ruin the moment by being Frank." Lip was already planning, MacGyver Mind recognizing kindred strategic thinking. "Let me handle logistics. You focus on not chickening out."
"I won't chicken out."
"Famous last words."
Mid-January, Fiona noticed Ben's distraction.
"You're being weird," she said over lunch at their usual diner.
"I'm always weird."
"Weirder than normal. Distant. Like you're planning something." She stole a fry from his plate—routine now, small intimacy. "What's going on in that head?"
I'm planning to propose in three weeks. I'm preparing for disasters I can see coming but can't explain. I'm trying to build foundation strong enough to survive what's ahead.
"Just thinking about the future," Ben said instead. "Shop expansion maybe. Hiring another employee. General business planning."
"You're a terrible liar. Your eye does this thing." She gestured vaguely. "But okay. Keep your secrets. I've got enough on my plate without worrying about your mysterious planning."
Carl had gotten in trouble at school again—fighting, though this time defending another kid from bullies. Debbie needed new winter coat. Liam had a persistent cough requiring doctor visit they couldn't afford. The usual Gallagher chaos operating at baseline instead of crisis level.
"How can I help?" Ben asked.
"You already help. Constantly. It's getting ridiculous how much you help." But she smiled, grateful despite the words. "Maybe just keep being you? Showing up, being steady, not leaving when shit gets hard?"
"I can do that."
"Good. Because I'm—" She stopped herself, looked away.
"You're what?"
"Getting used to you. To us. To having someone who doesn't disappear when things get complicated." Fiona met his eyes. "That's terrifying. Because eventually everyone leaves. But you keep not leaving and I keep believing maybe you won't. Maybe you're different."
"I'm different."
"Prove it. Stay."
"I'm not going anywhere."
She kissed him across the diner table, uncaring about the audience. When they broke apart, her smile was genuine—not the survival smile she gave to social workers, but real happiness.
That smile was worth every risk. Worth proposing too fast. Worth betting everything on partnership.
Late January brought escalating Danger Intuition warnings.
Ben's power showed him fragments: handsome man with expensive smile, cocaine in small bags, Fiona's conflicted expression, courtrooms and ankle monitors. The visions were getting clearer as events approached—Robbie would appear soon, bringing all of Season 2's chaos with him.
Need to propose before that starts. Need legal commitment established before crisis tests everything.
He worked double shifts at the shop, taking every repair job, saving aggressively. His employees—Maria and Tommy—noticed.
"You saving for something big?" Maria asked, watching him work through lunch.
"Engagement ring."
She squealed. Actually squealed. "For Fiona? You're proposing?"
"Keep it quiet. Don't want her finding out before I ask."
"Oh my God. This is so romantic. She's going to die." Maria was already texting someone—probably her sister, gossip spreading at South Side speed. "When?"
"Few weeks. Still saving for the ring."
"How much you need?"
Ben showed her the target: $800 for the ring he'd researched, simple silver band with small diamond. Nothing flashy, everything lasting.
"That's a good ring," Maria said. "My sister got engaged last year—spent twice that and the guy left six months later. Better to spend reasonable amount with good person than fortune with asshole."
"That's the plan."
Tommy appeared with update on a difficult repair. Work consumed the afternoon. But Ben's savings grew—$650 now, almost enough. One more week of careful budgeting would get him to $800.
One more week until he could buy the ring and finalize the plan.
February 1st, Ben called V.
"Need your help with something important."
V arrived at the garage within twenty minutes, Kevin in tow. "What's wrong? Is someone hurt? Is Fiona okay?"
"Everyone's fine. I need help picking an engagement ring."
Silence. Then V screamed—actual scream that made Kevin wince and Ben's ears ring.
"YOU'RE PROPOSING! Oh my God, you're proposing to Fiona!" V grabbed his arm with terrifying strength. "When? How? Have you planned it? Does she know? Obviously she doesn't know but does she suspect?"
"Next week probably. Planning logistics now. And I need help picking a ring because I know nothing about jewelry and Fiona will hate anything too flashy."
"Next week? That's so soon! You've only been dating three months!" V was crying and smiling simultaneously. "This is perfect. She deserves this. She deserves someone who actually wants to marry her, not just use her until something better comes along."
Kevin looked profoundly uncomfortable with the emotional display. "Congrats, man. That's big."
"Thanks."
"When do you want to go ring shopping?" V demanded.
"Now? If possible? Want to have the ring before I lose my nerve."
"You're not losing your nerve. You're doing this and it's going to be beautiful and I'm going to cry so much." V was already pulling him toward the door. "Kevin, drive. We're going to the jewelry district. Ben's getting engaged!"
The jewelry store was overwhelming—rows of rings in every style, prices ranging from affordable to mortgage-requiring. Ben's MacGyver Mind immediately categorized by price point, quality, style appropriateness.
"We're looking for an engagement ring," V announced to the clerk. "Nothing too flashy. She's practical, hates waste, but deserves something real that lasts."
The clerk—older woman with kind eyes—guided them to modest section. "What's your budget?"
"Eight hundred maximum," Ben said.
"That's not nothing in this range. We can find something beautiful." She showed them options: silver bands, small diamonds, elegant simplicity.
V vetoed three immediately. "Too plain. Too fancy. Wrong vibe entirely."
Kevin whispered, "They all look the same to me."
"That's because you're a man," V replied. "Ben, what do you think?"
Ben examined the rings through his analytical lens—quality of metal, diamond clarity, construction durability. But also trying to imagine each one on Fiona's hand, matching her aesthetic.
"This one," he said finally, pointing to a simple silver band with a small diamond set flush to the band. "It's elegant but not showy. Practical but real. It says 'I love you' not 'I'm compensating.'"
V burst into fresh tears. "That's perfect. That's exactly right. It's Fiona in ring form."
The clerk smiled. "Good choice. That's a classic design that won't go out of style. And at $800, it's within your budget with tax included."
Ben made the purchase while V continued crying and Kevin looked increasingly uncomfortable with public emotional displays.
Outside, V hugged Ben hard enough to crack ribs. "You're good for her. For all of them. Don't fuck this up."
"I'll try not to."
"When are you proposing exactly?"
"This weekend probably. Lip's coordinating logistics—getting Fiona there without suspicion, making sure family's present. Keeping it simple and meaningful."
"Simple and meaningful is perfect. That's what she needs." V wiped her eyes, ruining her mascara. "I'm so happy for you both. You deserve this. She deserves you."
Kevin added, "Just don't do it publicly. No jumbotron proposals or flash mobs. Fiona would murder you."
"Wasn't planning on it."
"Smart man."
They drove Ben back to the garage. He held the ring box—small, velvet, containing $800 worth of commitment and promise. The weight felt significant, terrifying, right.
That evening, Lip found Ben at the garage.
"Got the ring?" Lip asked.
Ben showed him the box. Lip opened it, examined the ring with his analytical gaze.
"This is nice. Simple. Fiona will like it."
"That's the plan."
"Okay. Saturday. I'll coordinate everything. Family meeting about Carl's school situation—except actually, you're proposing." Lip was already planning, organizing, creating structure. "V knows, so she'll have the kids ready. Kevin will record because apparently V wants footage. Ian's making sure Mickey doesn't show up and ruin the moment. I'll get Fiona there without suspicion."
"You're good at this."
"I'm good at everything. It's a burden." Lip handed back the ring box. "You nervous?"
"Terrified."
"Good. Means it matters." Lip moved toward the door, paused. "Hey Ben? I'm glad it's you. Glad Fiona's got someone who gives a shit and shows up. Just... don't let the pressure break you. South Side eats people alive if they're not careful."
"I'm careful."
"Yeah. I've noticed."
After Lip left, Ben sat alone in his garage holding the ring box. Saturday. Four days. The proposal was happening in four days.
His Danger Intuition pulsed warnings about spring—Robbie approaching, crisis pending. But first came this: commitment offered, partnership formalized, foundation built before storms tested it.
Four days until everything changed.
Four days until he bet everything on love being enough to survive what was coming.
Some risks are worth taking. Some people are worth fighting for. Some moments define everything that follows.
Saturday. Everything changes Saturday.
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