First Day of My Life

Prologue

If he closed his eyes tight enough and tried hard to remember, he could still feel the warmth of the sun kissing his skin, see the waves catch the rays and glisten as they broke, smell the salt of the sea in the humid, coastal air. He dug his toes into the institutional white sheet, missing how it felt to bury them in the silken, fine sand. Slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip, he attempted to taste the caramel notes he loved in the tequila he had sipped, while the balmy, breeze tousled his hair. He could hear the seagulls and Zev's horrendously loud laugh, drowning out the sound of heavy boots clomping up and down the long hallway on the other side of his wall. He could remember what it was like, for a short period of time, to live without a structure boxing him in, physical or societal. He missed it all. He missed Mexico.

"Ready to go, Milkovich? Grab your shit," Special Agent Reyes barked from the doorway. Mickey nodded, grabbed his duffle, and followed Reyes out of the building, pulling his jacket around his body tighter, shuddering at the bite and bitterness of the cold, February air. Eight months in Mexico had thinned his blood. When he had arrived in Virginia in September, he was surprised how chilly he found the 62 degree weather to be. Though with time, he had gotten used to cold again, he still hated it. He missed being bathed in sunshine, light and bright, "This is it then," Reyes said sliding open the door of the van.

"Thanks for everything, sir," Mickey said extending his hand and shaking Reyes'. The older man looked at Mickey with pride in his eyes. It was hard to believe how far he had come in just five months, how prepared he was now. He knew he had it in him, that was never a question. Mickey was a quick learner and as intelligent as he was driven. Reyes had been like Mickey when he was younger; tough, defensive, lost, becoming an agent at the DEA had turned him around and he hoped it would do the same for his mentee, "I, uh, I really appreciate you giving me a shot," His eyes dropped to his boots and he rubbed the side of his nose with his knuckle, "...seeing something in me, shit like that."

Reyes nodded, "The guys in Chicago are lucky to have you on their team. The information you got on the Romero cartel allowed them to get Ramos. They'd been after him for a decade, Milkovich. You were made for this."

As the van drove away from Quantico, Reyes words knocked around in Mickey's head. Was he really made for this? When Special Agent Greer had called him out of his cell and brought him into Warden Michaelson's office 18 months ago, he had told him to "fuck off." Mickey was a lot of things, but he wasn't a narc or rat. They knew that he had grown close to his cell mate Damon and Damon was the key to getting the information they needed on the Romero ring to get them Ramos. He was penetrable, unintelligent, and trusted Mickey. It wasn't until they mentioned "Ian Gallagher" that he softened, considered it.

Mickey didn't know at the time that the appeal his public defender had filed was sure to get him released, but the Warden did. Michaelson knew that the state didn't have the evidence to back up Mickey's incarceration, and the testimony of a clinically insane woman wouldn't keep him locked up. He had told Greer that it was only a matter of time before Mickey was released. They had to move quickly. Greer and the DEA offered Mickey a deal; Go down to Mexico, work the Romero ring, and become a free man. They hadn't expected that he would impress the higher ups at the DEA so much that they'd offer him a job.

"It seems that you have something special with this Ian Gallagher, Mickey," Greer had said leaning his elbows on the desk and leaning forward, "You do this, you're free to be with him. Don't have to wait another 8-15 years. Think about that." Free. With Ian. Think about that. He'd thought about that for the last 324 days. He'd spent nights and days trying to remember what Ian's strong arms had felt like around him, trying to recount the sensation of his soft lips against his own, the power of his hard cock in deep in his ass. All he did was think about that. Being Free. Being with Ian.