Three: Finding Solace

From her place by her husband's side, the club's matriarch eyed Chibs with a look that was caught somewhere halfway between sympathy and disapproval. "Tell me you didn't let some little doe-eyed bitch wrap you round her finger on that devious bastard's orders," she sighed.

"Trust me when I say the family name was all those two had in common, Gem," Chibs assured her. "Oh, she was just as scared o' Jimmy as anyone and tried not to piss him off, but she stayed the hell out o' his business."

Gemma didn't exactly look convinced. "Baby, you wouldn't be the first guy to be taken in by pussy, you know."

He didn't try to correct her, just hauled himself up from the couch with a sigh to restlessly wander across the clubhouse and stare at the wall of mugshots. His gaze drifted to his own younger, insolent-looking self, wondering – not for the first time - where the years had gone.

"I was already in me thirties when everythin' started really turnin' to shite. Aoife was barely twenty-one. She shoulda been out enjoyin' her life, not gettin' mixed up wi' the likes o' me," he said, just a twist of bitterness in his tone. "Although I guess in some ways, she'd already been dragged deeper than even I was – the price o' the O'Phelan name. Made ya an instant target for the loyalists, 'specially once Jimmy started makin' his way up the IRA ranks. They lost a brother an' their da both in a gun attack on a bookies' in broad daylight, ya know. Nobody and nowhere was safe in them days."

With his head bowed as if under the weight of all the memories, the Scotsman touched an almost tender hand to his crucifix.

"She was the baby o' the family," he said quietly. "Her ma an' Jimmy were pretty much all she had left after that attack, wi' her sisters both married and emigrated to the other side o' the world. It shoulda maybe brought her an' Jimmy closer, but instead it set them further apart and she grew to damn near hate what he'd become. He was all about revenge – but Aoife, god love the wee lass, she just wanted out o' all the bloodshed ..."

February 1992: Divis, Belfast.

The heavy clouds ensured there wasn't a star in the sky, although the moon had found a place from which to peek out and cast its soft glow over the waves of the lough stretching out to sea. Between that and the city lights twinkling for miles, it was almost possible to forget the rest – the dark underbelly.

No matter how near the surface it lurked.

It was cold, though not overly so for the time of year, and the wind was whipping Aoife's dark hair as she shivered in her thin parka. Twice he'd asked already if she wanted to go back and twice she'd shook her head. And so they'd stayed high in the Belfast hills, perched on a flat-topped rock to keep the grass from soaking their backsides, swigging whiskey from his hip flask and watching the last Scotland-bound ferry of the night slip out across the bay.

From somewhere far below, the distant wail of a police siren reached them. But otherwise, rare peace was theirs.

"Ya never think o' getting out, lass?" Filip asked suddenly, breaking the companionable silence that had fallen between them. "Like yer sisters?"

"Nah. Haven't found a rich foreigner to marry me yet," she said, eyes twinkling as she shot him a sidelong look. But he wasn't to be so easily deterred.

"I'm serious, Aoife. Ya never think there's gotta be somethin' better out there than the bombs an' the bullets?" he asked, almost wishing he hadn't when he saw how the light dimmed in those eyes at the thought.

"Only all the fuckin' time," she sighed, looking out over the dark horizon again with a resigned shrug. "But I got me ma to think about, simple as that."

"Could take 'er wi' ya ..."

"Talk sense, Filip. To hear her talk, ya'd think they only invented planes the other day. I tried talking her into a wee trip to Dublin once, just to get a bit o' a break, and it was like I'd suggested packin' her off to the bloody Middle East. Oh, I've dreamt about it all right. But ma doesn't do travel, so that's all it is – daft dreams."

He let it go at that, lapsing into silence again – at least until another shiver from her caught the corner of his eye and he found himself fumbling open his heavy jacket with cold fingers. "C'mere - else yer gonna catch yer death," he ordered, gesturing to her with a jerk of his head.

The little brunette considered him for a moment, but didn't argue. Instead, she tucked herself in to his side and let him wrap them both up tight as her arms slipped around his waist. "Yer fuckin' freezin', wee girl!" he half scolded, rubbing his hands briskly up and down her back in a fairly futile bid to warm her.

"I'll be grand," she murmured, her head resting on his chest. "Sure we'll go when we can't see the ferry anymore."

Looking out across the water, not particularly relishing the prospect of returning to the city below, he nodded and just held her closer as the ship glided further and further out to sea. He didn't even realise he'd pressed his lips to her temple until she turned those green eyes up to his again.

"Filip, if things were different ... Would ya take me away from here?" Aoife whispered.

He could hear the longing in her voice and didn't even have to think about it. "Aye, love, that I would."

The soft, tentative kiss they found themselves caught up in took them both by surprise, but they gave in to each other without question as it slowly deepened - only pulling apart when a fresh gust of wind swept the first heavy raindrops into their faces in a literal cold shower.

"Shite!" Aoife gasped, scrambling to her feet with a little squeal as the heavens simply seemed to open all at once. "Car, now – move!"

Laughing between curses, the pair raced hand-in-hand through the downpour, stumbling in their haste over the rough path that led back down to the point where they'd had to abandon her beat-up little car. Both were relieved, but thoroughly drenched, when they could finally haul open the doors and throw themselves into the blanket-covered backseat.

"Jesus," Filip groaned, pushing his sodden hair out of his eyes and tilting his head back as he tried to get his breath back. "Soaked to the fuckin' skin, I am."

Wriggling out of her rain-darkened parka and tugging the thick blanket out from below them, Aoife wrapped herself in its relative warmth and smiled as she ended up on his lap. "Probably shouldn't stay in these wet clothes, 'less you want to catch yer death, Filip ..." she said, taking his own words and throwing them back at him.

Staring up at her, his heart still thumping in his chest and his mind racing too, he knew he should stop to think. But they were both still lost in another world all of their own and, though he knew that illusion had to come crashing down eventually, those green eyes and soft lips were all he could see for now and all that mattered.

Even with rain dripping from her hair, she was beautiful and he fisted his hands in the edges of the blanket around her shoulders to pull her down into a long kiss full of everything he knew he shouldn't feel.

Jimmy, Fiona, unfulfilled orders and outside pressures ... All forgotten the moment he'd reached for her.

And consequences be damned.

Almost having forgotten his audience, Chibs looked up and managed a wry laugh at the expectant looks on their faces. He should have known his brothers would be looking for the uncut version of his story, but even Tara and Lyla seemed caught up in the apparent romance of his tale.

"Not like you to be coy, man," Tig smirked, in the middle of quietly liberating another bottle of whiskey from the well-stocked bar.

"Some things just ain't for a bunch o' mucky-minded buggers' ears," he grinned, with a quick wink to the few women listening. "No offense, ladies. But aye, all right, we did end up havin' a nice wee shag in the backseat." But, even as well-intentioned wolf-whistles rang out, he shook his head and the smile faded. "That was all well an' good away from the real world, but we both knew we had to go back. 'Cept, when it came to her, didn't I go an' turn into a real selfish bastard," he said, his voice full of regret and so unlike his usual strident tones. "I shoulda walked away when the chance was there."

"And what? Made her think that was all you were after? That you were done with her once you got what you wanted?" Tara interrupted, shaking her head. "Oh, Chibs, no. You obviously cared about her more than that ..."

"Thinkin' straight woulda been carin' about her, love," he said softly. "Instead, I took her to bed again - knowin' full well Jimmy would kill the pair o' us if he found out. Except he didn't kill us. Might have been easier if he had."

Even though he trailed off and went back to staring at his drink, no one spoke. No one asked what had happened. He knew he'd already confessed to more than they'd ever expected; just like he could tell that each of them already had a horrible feeling they knew what came next anyway.

But he wasn't done. Not yet. He just had to find the words to go on.

to be continued ...