Catherine woke up on the couch at Patrick and Olivia's. Instead of rising peacefully, she was startled half to death when she opened her eyes to find Kerrianne less than a foot away.
"Jesus, Kerri," she groaned, sitting up while rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "The hell ye doin'?"
The eleven-year-old pushed her mane of black ringlet curls out of her face and sat on the couch beside Catherine. There was an awkward silence that filled the air between them as Kerrianne eyed Catherine with a grimace. Ever since her relationship with Jimmy had become more serious and romantic, the cousins began to see less and less of each other. For obvious reasons, Fiona wasn't too keen on allowing Catherine anywhere near her home and Catherine wasn't all that inclined to be there either.
"Why doesn't me Ma like ye any more?"
Catherine looked at the clock hanging on the wall and let out a heavy breath when she saw it was only eight in the morning. It was far too early to be answering the prying question, on top of only five hours of fitful sleep. She wasn't about to tell Kerrianne the truth either.
"Ye'll have 'ta ask yer ma."
"Believe me, I tried. But, she keeps brushin' me off, so she does. The other day, when she was talkin' wit' Sibohan Leary, Momma said ya were nothin' but Jimmy's brasser an' that he'd be over ya soon enough…whatever that means."
Hearing that Fiona was going around Belfast and referring to her as nothing more than Jimmy's prostitute, didn't come as much of a surprise. Actually, the insult barely registered as Catherine knew it could be a hell of a lot worse.
Catherine really wanted to tell Kerrianne to get used to the never-ending secrets that were kept, as that was just the Telford/O'Toole way of life. Realizing she needed to get the hell out of that situation, Catherine shrugged her shoulders and got up to fetch some much-needed coffee from the kitchen.
When she saw Fiona was sitting at the table with Jimmy and Olivia, it quickly became coffee and whiskey that she was craving. Being in the same room with Jimmy and the woman he was still living and raising a child with, made Catherine want to implode. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
In all honesty, Catherine couldn't blame Fiona for being there as it was the only place she really could go. Staying in Short Strand when it was on the verge of burning wasn't the best thing to do with a young child. Nonetheless, when Catherine arrived at her parent's and found Fiona and Kerrianne sleeping in her old bedroom, she instantly turned to Jimmy and begged him to bring her back home. She didn't care that her bedroom window had been shot out from someone trying to kill her, and pipe bombs rocked the street corner every so often. Being in the middle of that was less dangerous than being in the same living space as his quasi-wife and stepdaughter. To add insult to injury, when Catherine asked Jimmy if he wanted to sleep downstairs with her, he responded by quietly fucking her in the bathroom before heading across the hall to zonk out beside Fiona. The only thing that kept Catherine from having a near breakdown was the spiteful reminder that they were in the bed she and Jimmy had screwed countless times on.
Olivia just kept on blabbering away about the conflict brewing on the east side of the river as Catherine poured her coffee. Fiona was giving her the side eye, and Jimmy smiled amusingly as Catherine dispensed a heavy shot of Bushmills into the black liquid. After the events of the last twelve hours, Jimmy had woken up and did the same. Catherine tried her best to avoid any eye contact with Jimmy, and it was fairly easy with Fiona throwing daggers at her.
"Where's Da?" Catherine asked Olivia. She blew across the top of her mug.
"Outside."
Olivia didn't even look up at her daughter as she kept up the conversation with Fiona. Something that Catherine envied deeply about her mother's personality was her ability to go on with life as if nothing was wrong. There was bloodshed around her, but Olivia chose to focus on the fact the weather was finally warming up. While an awkwardness had filled the atmosphere of the kitchen, Olivia ignored the fact that Catherine was screwing her sister-in-law's significant other.
Stepping outside, Catherine found her father sitting in a wrought iron chair at the patio table. She took a seat beside him and the two simply sat there in silence, soaking in the muggy morning. From the distance, they could hear the thunderous reverberations of the homemade explosives. The scorched smell of ammonium nitrate and aluminum powder hung heavy above their heads. It was the fragrance of childhood for the father and daughter.
"Heard what happened last night." Patrick lit a cigarette. "How ya holdin' up?"
Catherine stiffened at her father's words. The echo of the shots ringing out in the small space of her bedroom quickly stopped playing over and over again in her ears. When she had stood up and examined the destruction in her bedroom, Catherine had been filled with a rage that easily matched Jimmy's. Expect, she lashed out in a way no one had expected. Usually the one with a level head, Catherine had lost her mind. On the phone with Donny, Jimmy had no idea that Catherine was dashing around the house, stuffing torn bath cloths, which were soaked in isopropyl alcohol, into bottles of whiskey and vodka. Watching from her bedroom window, Jimmy stopped listening to his second-in-command when he saw Catherine in the backyard. A sense of arrogant pride washed over him as Catherine lit the homemade incendiary devices, throwing them over the wall.
To answer Patrick's question, Jimmy would say she was holding up rather well, while Catherine was faintly repulsed with her actions.
Catherine assured Patrick she'd be fine, before telling him what was really bothering her. "Somethin' about it jus' doesn't add up, Da."
"What do ya mean?"
Looking around, Catherine moved her chair closer to Patrick. She stole a cigarette from this pack.
"Assumin' t'was Her Majesty's Armed Forces, the PSNI, or even the Ulster Volunteer Force, why would they wait 'ta take the shot at Jimmy until I got in the room?"
"Ye sure yer not on their radar?"
Patrick didn't mean to dismiss his daughter's concerns right off the bat, but he was trying to see it from all angles. With the work Catherine had done over the last several years, it wasn't foolish to think she had eyes on her. Fiona had very little to do with Jimmy's business and even she would catch a tail once or twice a year. Being in Jimmy's life meant being under the microscope by the British and foreign governments and with all the traveling Catherine did with him, it would only make sense that they knew she was more than just his lover.
"I asked Liam before goin' 'ta Malta, and he said his informant in MI6 told 'im they don't have enough information on me 'ta even issue an arrest warrant. They wouldn't risk tryin' 'ta make me out."
Catherine hated that she was about to bring up her theory, as it would make her sound like she was losing her mind and spiraling into the depths of paranoia.
"Ya don't think the Council would try anythin', do ya?"
"Fuck ya talkin' about, Catherine?"
Scratching the top of her head with a long nail, Catherine took a long drag from her smoke. "What I'm about 'ta tell ye doesn't leave the table, we clear?"
Patrick nodded.
"About a week before we left fer Malta, Jimmy sent me 'ta his place 'ta grab a couple boxes of ammunition from his safe. In there, I found a duffle wit' at least a couple million U.S.-dollars. Then, before we did the pitch with the bloke from Boston, Jimmy was adamant we can't spend more than twelve-thousand a piece fer the M16's because we supposedly don't 'ave the cash. I guess I don't understand why he'd say we don't 'ave it when he's got all that coin stashed. I keep wonderin' if he's buyin' an' sellin' on his own."
What Catherine had accused Jimmy of was mammoth and could have horrific consequences. The Council didn't take well to anyone—especially Quartermasters—making any sort of profit on the side. It only exploited the cause and made it look as though they were struggling to hold on to loyalty. It wasn't a one-man army, they all worked as a team. Patrick tried to come up with an explanation as to why Jimmy would have that kind of money hiding in his safe. But, there was one that did seem plausible.
"He's tryin' 'ta find a new source fer the M16's. Makes sense that he's got that kinda cash; fuckers aren't cheap right now because of the war in Afghanistan. Since he's got a source inside the U.S. military again, maybe the Council wants him 'ta buy in bulk. Spend two, three mill, on American weapons, we can easily turn around and sell 'em fer double."
Stubbing out her cigarette, she let Patrick's words sink in. From what Jimmy told her after he finished talks with the mob boss, it all made sense. Jimmy never brought the money to Malta because he didn't plan on making a deal, to begin with. So, being able to cross the theory of the Council trying to take out she and Jimmy, now all Catherine could think about was how Liam's source in the counter-terror unit of MI6 more than likely gave him misleading information. Whether that was on purpose or not, she couldn't figure out, but that was for her to worry about at another time. She chose to take Patrick's explanation at face value and run with it. Surely, there was no way a man like Jimmy—who did nothing but preach the importance of loyalty to the cause—would betray the one thing he based his entire life around.
"Aye. Suppose yer right," she said. Getting a good look at her father, Catherine couldn't help but realize how awful he looked with his hair peroxide blond. He was washed out; the dark circles under his faded green eyes were front and center. It looked far better in its natural copper, but those days were long gone. She raised her eyebrows, "maybe it's time fer me 'ta cut an' dye me hair."
Patrick snickered to himself as he stared at his daughter. He hated that she had smiled at her own comment as he, for one, absolutely loved those copper waves that cascaded down her shoulders and back. Catherine Mary was a spitting image of his mother and was her namesake; he didn't want to imagine her looking any different. Even though she had said it in a joking tone, Patrick knew it was anything but. There was no way he could stop her from doing it, considering he sported a new hair color every year. That was his way of attempting to avoid identification by the British Army, as well as the Police Service of Northern Ireland. With what happened the previous night, he couldn't blame Catherine for being a little more fearful than usual.
"Tiocfaidh ár lá." He lifted his coffee mug in a toast.
Our day will come.
Catherine followed, and they clinked glasses. "Up the RA."
Sitting at the kitchen table with Olivia and Fiona, Catherine absently stirred her tea. This was the last place on Earth she wanted to be, but Jimmy and Patrick had given her strict orders not to leave. They had taken off not even an hour earlier to meet with the Council to discuss the assassination attempt, and figure out if retaliation was warranted. A part of Catherine was hoping the Council would give them the thumbs up to bring down a Provo wrath, but the Belfast Agreement barred any such doings. The IRA was committed to making the ceasefire work and handle issues, such as this, diplomatically. However, while thinking about the current state of the Short Strand, Catherine didn't see diplomacy working well this time around.
She listened in-and-out to the conversation happening across the table, but her main focus was on Kerrianne. Sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her, Catherine wondered what was going on in the mind of the child. With the question she had asked her earlier in the morning, it was clear to Catherine that Kerrianne wasn't as unwary to her surroundings as she made to believe. Catherine wondered if she had ever looked that innocent while glued to the television, trying to make sense of the whirlwind violence in Belfast. If she had, Catherine then pondered just how much longer it would be until Kerrianne expressed interest in the family legacy.
"Catherine?"
Shaking back to reality at the sound of her name, Catherine looked up to her mother. "Aye."
"Ye'll never guess who I ran in'ta the other mornin' at the market; Mrs. McInnes."
"How's she doin?"
What Catherine wanted to do was roll her eyes and tell Olivia she didn't give two shits about Lorcan McInnes or his mother, and to move on with the conversation. But, she knew it was only meant in good faith and Olivia was doing everything possible to keep herself distracted from the outside world.
"Oh, she's brilliant. Said Lorcan's doin' well in the Royal Marines, so he is." Olivia paused only to take a breath, "I do wish the two of ye would 'ave stayed ta'gether. Ya were such a good couple."
It was painfully obvious what Olivia was trying to do and her efforts were only backfiring. This was her attempt to try and steer Catherine back to her high school boyfriend, and away from her sister-in-law's man.
"Lorcan and I will never get back ta'gether. It's been almost three years Ma, let it go, please?"
Catherine didn't mean for her words to come out with such hostility and the moment they left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. With tensions running high all around and everyone on edge, it was important to keep emotions in check before everything completely fell apart. Catherine apologized to Olivia and then got up to head to the backyard.
The alone time was exactly what she needed. In the last few years, Catherine could count on two hands just how many moments she had to herself. Weeks after she graduated from St. Dominic's, Jimmy had moved her into a modest home, where she had the pleasure of staring at the peace wall separating Short Stand from loyalist Cluan Place. With the wall quite literally in her backyard, there hadn't been a single day pass where either Jimmy or one of his enforcers dropped in, making sure there wasn't any trouble. While she was incredibly grateful for the safeguards, sometimes Catherine wished she wasn't constantly being babysat. Having lived her entire life in the Lower Falls, Catherine was no stranger to the hostility and found it rather insulting that Jimmy didn't think she was capable of taking care of herself. However, after the previous night, Catherine was seriously considering moving back in with her parents.
"Has he lost appeal 'ta ye, yet? The violence only follows 'im, ya know."
Catherine turned around to find Fiona standing self-satisfied. Her arms were crossed over her chest with her chin high, and her left hip popped. Rolling her eyes, Catherine simply lit a cigarette, not looking to fight. She knew Fiona was only trying to get a rise out of her, and if Jimmy were there, she never would have the courage otherwise. This was the first time Fiona had confronted Catherine about her relationship, but she had known what was going on for quite some time.
"Don't start," Catherine warned. "Another time I'll be more than willin' 'ta discuss this wit'cha but, not now."
Christmas Day, two years ago was when Fiona had been forced to come face to face with Jimmy's infidelity. As they attended midnight Mass, Fiona saw the magnificent diamond encrusted Celtic knot pendant hanging around Catherine's neck. She had found the piece of jewelry in Jimmy's desk and assumed it had been for her. The pendant still rested against Catherine's chest and there was no way for Fiona to deny its exquisiteness; it was well suited for the redheaded belle. What made Fiona particularly angry wasn't Jimmy's affair per se, it was the fact he was screwing her niece. Granted, Catherine was family by marriage, but that hadn't stopped Fiona from once loving her as if she were blood.
"Just answer me one question. Of all the men in Belfast, why him?"
"Because he was mine first." Catherine snapped.
That answer surely shut Fiona up.
It was no secret that an incredibly tight bond between Jimmy and Catherine had enfolded during her youth. With Patrick either locked up or on the run for the most part of Catherine's life, it had been Filip who stepped up to help his sister rear her three youngsters. As it turned out, Filip and Jimmy were a package deal; wherever one was, the other wasn't too far behind.
While Filip spent a considerable amount of his time wrangling the stubborn Catherine Mary, it was Jimmy who somehow managed to turn her complaisant. She only listened to him because she realized he was probably the only man in Belfast who she couldn't manipulate. But that didn't mean Jimmy never spoiled her rotten. Less than a year after he had been discharged from the British Army, Catherine had Jimmy wrapped just as tightly around her finger, as he did her.
She would never outright admit it, but Catherine had long been jealous of Jimmy's string of girlfriends, and would often concoct reasons to pull his attention back to her. On several occasions when Jimmy would pick Catherine up and throw her over his shoulder to bring her outside to play, Catherine would lift her head and stick out her tongue to his flavor of the month.
A strong, assertive man, it was Jimmy who thrust Catherine into her sexual awakening when she was fourteen. At sixteen, she had made the boldest move possible and kissed Jimmy when he caught her drinking at an underground IRA pub in East Belfast. When he pushed her off of him and told her to get lost, the reality that Jimmy was committed to raising Kerrianne with Fiona was a tough pill for Catherine to swallow.
She couldn't fathom why a man like him would want her uncle's wife and the unnecessary responsibilities that came along with it. From that day forward, she placed the blame on Fiona for her losing the two men she adored most in life. Little was done on Catherine's part of concealing what was happening when she and Jimmy moved their relationship down a more serious path. Catherine wanted Fiona to know just badly it hurt to watch the man you love, fall head-over-heels for someone else.
There was one thing, however, Catherine knew would hurt Fiona more than her relationship with Jimmy. "I'll be sure 'ta give Filip yer love when I see him next week."
A/N: Next chapter I have Jimmy and Catherine finally going to Charming to meet with SAMCRO! I'm stuck between reintroducing Happy into the story or creating a sub-plot between Jax and Catherine. Drop a line, and let me know if you want it to be Happy or Jax who she starts to see on the side.
