The warning didn't come from the System.
It came from the silence.
Luke noticed it first in the way the house breathed—too quiet, too tight, like everyone was waiting for something to break. Ian hadn't slept. That much was obvious. The kitchen chair still rocked slightly, like he'd been pacing all night, burning energy he didn't know how to shut off.
Luke stood in the doorway, watching his brother flip through a magazine without actually reading it, leg bouncing, jaw clenched, eyes bright in a way that set off every alarm Luke had learned to respect.
This wasn't ambition.
This was ignition.
The System finally caught up.
Psychiatric Pattern Detected
Subject: Ian Gallagher
Condition Probability: Bipolar I Disorder — MANIC PHASE
Risk Trajectory: ESCALATING
Luke swallowed.
He'd seen this future before—Ian spiraling, Ian untreated, Ian becoming a symbol instead of a person. The cult. The messiah nonsense. The baby kidnapping. The prison jumpsuit.
Not this time.
Seeing the Storm
"Ian," Luke said gently.
Ian snapped his head up, grin flashing too fast.
"Luke! Man, I've been thinking—what if I enlist again? Or start a nonprofit? Or both? I could do both, right?"
Too fast. Too many ideas stacked on top of each other like a house of cards.
Luke crossed the room and sat across from him, lowering his voice.
"How long since you slept?"
Ian waved it off. "Sleep's overrated. I feel amazing."
That word again.
Amazing.
Luke leaned forward.
"Ian," he said quietly, "does your chest feel tight?"
Ian paused.
"…Yeah."
"Thoughts racing?"
"…Maybe."
"Do you feel like you're chosen for something?"
Ian's smile flickered.
The System overlaid a clean, clinical analysis.
Medical Talent: ACTIVE
Diagnosis Confidence: 94%
Immediate Intervention Required
Luke reached out and placed a hand over Ian's knee—steady, grounding.
"You're not broken," Luke said. "But your brain is lying to you right now."
No More Guessing
Ian pulled his leg back, defensive.
"You think I'm crazy."
"No," Luke said firmly. "I think you're sick. And I think you deserve help before the world punishes you for it."
That landed.
Ian's breath hitched.
Luke continued, calm but unyielding.
"This isn't just depression. It's bipolar disorder. The kind that makes you feel unstoppable right before it burns everything down."
Ian stared at him.
"…How do you know?"
Luke didn't mention the System. Didn't mention probabilities or futures.
"I know because I love you," he said. "And because I've been paying attention."
The Hard Step
Getting Ian to the clinic wasn't easy.
He argued. He joked. He deflected. He accused Luke of trying to control him.
Luke stayed.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't threaten.
He didn't walk away.
At the hospital, Luke sat through every intake form, every assessment, every uncomfortable question. When the psychiatrist mentioned Lithium, Ian panicked.
"Isn't that for crazy people?"
Luke answered before the doctor could.
"It's for people who want to live," he said.
The doctor nodded.
Medication plan. Therapy schedule. Monitoring.
For the first time, Ian looked scared—not manic scared, but real scared.
Luke squeezed his shoulder.
"I've got you," he said. "You're not doing this alone."
The Crash and the Catch
The mania faded over days.
And when it did, the crash came hard.
Ian curled up on his bed, staring at the wall, guilt flooding in as clarity returned.
"I could've ruined everything," he whispered. "Mickey. The kid. You."
Luke sat on the floor beside him.
"But you didn't," Luke said. "Because we caught it early."
Ian's voice broke.
"What if it comes back?"
Luke didn't lie.
"It might," he said. "But next time, you'll know. And next time, we'll handle it faster."
Ian turned toward him, eyes red.
"You're really staying?"
Luke met his gaze.
"Always."
Brotherhood
That night, Luke stayed in Ian's room, working on his laptop while Ian slept—actually slept—for the first time in weeks.
The System updated quietly.
Critical Event Averted
Cult Trajectory: TERMINATED
Family Stability: SIGNIFICANTLY INCREASED
Karma Gain: HIGH
Luke watched his brother breathe, steady and slow.
No messiah.
No martyr.
Just Ian.
And this time, that was enough.