Belfast, Northern Ireland

Catherine stood in front of the minor in her bathroom. She had been home for nearly a week now, and she hadn't left thanks to the bruises she was examining on her neck. Twisting her head from side to side, she winced as she touched one of them. The center of the oval-shaped contusions was still a shade of deep purple, but thankfully the edges were turning a pale green.

Jimmy had sent Catherine back to Belfast early. He made her believe it was because she had disobeyed his orders on several occasions. Truth was, he couldn't stand looking at her with those bruises lining her neck and the split in her lower lip. With the visible evidence of his lost tempter reminding him of what he had done to Catherine, it was easier just to send her away. Jimmy hadn't even been the one to drop her off at San Francisco International; he sent one of his enforcers to do the job for him.

On the afternoon she felt California, Catherine had tried to hide the black and blue marks with makeup to no avail. During the quiet drive, Luke Moran had noticed them and offered her a sad, sympathetic head nod. He knew first hand just how brutal Jimmy could be, and that was why he did whatever he could to avoid Jimmy's crosshairs. As she stepped out of the SUV at the international terminal, Luke handed her a small white tablet and his flask. Still feeling on edge from what happened, she gladly washed down the sedative with a mouthful of whiskey, sleeping soundly on her thirteen-hour flight home. McKeavey picked her up in Dublin, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw the real reason why she was back so soon. He was the one who told Catherine to hunker down at home until the bruises faded, and he promised he wouldn't tell anyone she was back.

Even though she was in the comfort of her home, Catherine was still chasing sleep, unable to stop replaying the events over and over in her tired mind. She hadn't spoken a single word to Jimmy since, and she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to again. He had scared her out of her wits, and she realized the stories she had heard about his ways weren't so far fetched after all. The sadistic reputation he had built, didn't come from being a gentle man.

Hearing a knock at on the front door, Catherine turned off the light in the bathroom and jogged down the stairs. She had been expecting it to be McKeavey with a bag of groceries, so she didn't bother looking through the peephole. The decision not to, suddenly became regretted when she came face to face with another female.

"Fuckin' wonderful."

Fiona watched Catherine wrap the loose powder pink cable-knit cardigan tightly around her torso. Having known her since the day she was born, Fiona knew Catherine only did that when she was feeling antsy. The taut sweater gave her a sense of security.

She was left wondering how Fiona had managed to figure out that Catherine was back home. But, then she remembered that even though Provos were sworn to secrecy, that didn't stop them from gossiping horribly amongst themselves. Word traveled faster in their group than it did at an all girl's grammar school.

Catherine would deal with McKeavey later.

Readjusting the straps of her purse on her shoulder, Fiona wasn't exactly sure what she was doing there either. Years ago, she had found a scrap of paper in Jimmy's office with an address—which was only three blocks away—written on it. While she knew exactly who lived at that address, this was the first time Fiona had mustered the courage to knock on the door.

"We need ta talk," Fiona said.

Catherine knew she had it coming. "Come in."

Moving aside, she let Fiona walk in. She looked around the modest and rehabbed home that Jimmy was shelling out four-hundred pounds a month for to mortgage. When Catherine had graduated from St. Dominic's, Fiona had planned to buy her a personalized keepsake box, but Jimmy went off and secretly bought Catherine a house instead. That right there should have told Fiona all she needed to know then.

It certainly had Catherine's feminine touch, with cream-colored walls, hardwood floors, and pristine white furniture. When Catherine led Fiona into the kitchen, a small vase of fresh cut pink carnations sat on the black, rounded table. Catherine gestured for Fiona to take a seat on one of the chairs, as the young woman walked to the stove to turn on the burner beneath the kettle.

This was a moment Catherine was hoping she could completely avoid forever, as the tension in the air was almost suffocating. The redhead took a seat opposite of Fiona. There were a thousand choice words and questions Fiona wanted to hurl at Catherine, but suddenly she had nothing to say. She decided to start with a neutral topic, one that wouldn't lead to a screaming match off the bat.

"Did ya see him?"

"Aye," Catherine answered softly. "He looks grand an' seems ta be doin' fairly well fer himself."

Fiona adverted her gaze as she tried to control her emotions. A small smile did spread over her lips when an image of the only man she truly loved danced in her brain. She missed Chibs more than words could express, and every day she wished she had left Belfast with him. What left her stationary in Northern Ireland, was the warning the True Army had given her. They made it very clear that if she were to leave, she would never be able to come back. Her daughter had only been six months old when Jimmy exiled Chibs from the Provos, and her focus had been on keeping Kerrianne safe.

"I want ya ta know it's not ye I'm upset with or mad at." Fiona started.

She knew Jimmy had been the aggressor. As he and Fiona weren't legally married, she knew he planned to eventually make good on his promise to leave her once he made the jump to the Army Council. Catherine was stumped for words. She hadn't been expecting Fiona to lead off with a statement like that. In fact, she had been expecting Fiona to storm in, looking for the throwdown she was rightfully entitled to. Catherine did feel horrible for the betrayal as, in reality, Fiona had done nothing but treat her well during the time she had been with Chibs. The anger she felt was misplaced, considering she had come to her own conclusion that it was Fiona's fault that Chibs had left in the first place. His departure had been difficult on everyone, but particularly Catherine. With the differing stories, she had heard from Chibs and Jimmy, the honest truth seemed so muddled.

Just as Catherine was about to open her mouth and respond, the kettle on the stove began to whistle. As she jumped up to attend to it, Fiona noticed a collection of photos on the wall. She remembered the days when membership in the IRA was to be as clandestine as possible. Even though the marriage license could be found in public record, she and Chibs didn't have very many photos together as that was the quickest and easiest way for the Royal Ulster Constabulary to link the husband and wife to the illegal organization. Here, Catherine had half a dozen photos of she and Jimmy framed on the wall. One, in particular, grabbed her attention. Behind the glass, Jimmy and Catherine stood in front of the Eiffel Tower. The beautiful piece of architecture lit up the French night sky as they held one another in a tight embrace. His lips were pressed tenderly to Catherine's temple as her smile was warm. Fiona wasn't sure who her heart broke most for; herself or Catherine. Maybe for both of them. Even a blind man could see the twinkle of pure love in the young woman's eyes.

Settling back into her chair, she handed Fiona a warm mug of black tea. With it nestled between her hands, Catherine blew across the top. "I never meant ta hurt ya, it's the truth. But, if yer here ta try an' talk me outta seein' him, I'm sorry, that's not gonna happen."

"That's not what this is about. I'm simply here ta remind ya of yer place." Fiona set her mug the table and looked Catherine in the eye. "He'll never leave me an' Kerri; he's too selfish. The only thing he cares about is how he looks ta the Council, an' havin' a family by his side only makes him look better. The next time he asks ya ta accompany him on a trip, ya tell him no. I'm his wife, I'm ta be at his side…that needs ta get through yer thick skull."

Catherine licked her lips as she pushed her mug to the side. She didn't realize Fiona had noticed the bruises on her neck.

"We both know Jimmy doesn't ask, he tells ya what ta do. And, what yer not understandin' is that those were business trips, Fi. I'm makin' deals to pump cash inta our dyin' fight. However, what yer failin' ta understand as well, is that I can give Jimmy his own family. Don't ya ever forget that."

Her words were salt in Fiona's wounds. While it was true she was well past her childbearing years, one thing Catherine didn't know was that Fiona never wanted children with Jimmy. She never wanted something that would so permanently tie her that man, nor could she live with herself if she bore a son who grew up to be exactly like his father.

"He'll never have children wit' ya. Do ya really think Jimmy loves you? Yer nothin' more than a toy 'ta him." Fiona wasn't sure if she was telling Catherine the true, or simply trying to convince herself of it. Either way, she reached across the small table and moved the collar of Catherine's sweater aside to get a better look at her neck. "There are only two tragedies in life, Catherine. Not gettin' what ya want, an' gettin' it. I supposed it would make sense though that ya end up with a man like Patrick."

The words that left Fiona's mouth stung Catherine with humiliation, but she wouldn't dare let it show. Catherine was well aware of that fact that Fiona knew her days were numbered and this was nothing more than her flexing muscle while she still had it. What Catherine wanted to do was remind Fiona of her place; show her the bedroom she shared with Jimmy. Show her how over half of his clothes were hanging in the closet upstairs, how several pairs of his cufflinks were strewn on the dresser. In the bathroom, his toothbrush rested in the holder beside hers, and in the shower, his shampoo and body wash mingled with hers on the toiletry rack. But, when Catherine rubbed her neck and felt the ache of those bruises, she almost told Fiona she could collect Jimmy's stuff and keep him all to herself. When Jimmy returned to Belfast, Catherine wasn't sure if she'd even be in the Short Strand anymore.

"What are ya doin' here, Fi?"

Time froze the second the male voice echoed in the kitchen. Catherine looked over her shoulder to see Jimmy standing in the archway between the living room and kitchen. He hung his keys on one of the hooks on the wall beside the telephone. Catherine's heart immediately began to pound, threatening to jump straight out of her chest, as the anxiety of seeing him set in. Fiona's eyes avoided Jimmy completely as she took notice to the fact Catherine was on the verge of an anxiety attack. The one and only time Fiona had ever seen Catherine as frightened as she currently was, was in 1988 and the funeral for the Gibraltar Three had been attacked at Milltown Cemetery.

Instead of answering his question, Fiona only asked one of her own. "What in God's name did ya do ta the poor girl?"

The small space of the kitchen vibrated with Jimmy's roaring laughter. He, nor Catherine, could believe Fiona had the nerve to stand up for her. To Catherine, she felt as though Fiona's unwarranted defense made her look weak and it embarrassed her all to hell.

"I think ye should leave, yeah?" She turned her attention to Fiona and through a shaky voice, Catherine attempted to sound as assured as possible.

Slowly standing to her feet, Fiona's gaze darted between Catherine and Jimmy. The mood between the lovers was tense and alarming, and Fiona was hesitant to leave her alone with him. She decided the moment she got home, she'd call Patrick to make a wellness check on his daughter. Silently nodding, Fiona thanked Catherine for her hospitality. Both women knew this conversation was far from over, but they'd have to do it when Jimmy was out of Belfast. Catherine got up to see Fiona out, and when she returned, she found Jimmy occupying his usual chair.

Ignoring him, she could feel his eyes watching her every move. From the top shelf of a cabinet, Catherine grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey and hoisted herself to sit on the counter. She uncapped it and took a swig, needing a little Irish courage. He was home four days early and whether or not that was a good thing had Catherine wondering. It was obvious he had just arrived home, as Jimmy appeared slightly jet-lagged and his suit was wrinkled. Under any other circumstances, Catherine would have been flattered that his first stop was to see her, but now she couldn't care less.

"SAMCRO approved the deal," he said.

"So I heard." Catherine kept her eyes forward, staring at the clock as the minute hand slowly ticked.

The sound of his Oxford's scuffling on the floor was the hint to Catherine that Jimmy was making his way to her. He snatched the bottle off the counter beside her, resting his back on the wall across from her.

"I figured ya'd be a little more excited by the news. Never would'a happened without ye puttin' in the work."

She should have just taken the compliment, but she didn't care that SAMCRO had accepted the deal she offered to them. As of two days ago, that was no longer her responsibly and the weight of the world now seemed to be off her shoulders. By the way he was speaking to her, it became painfully clear to Catherine that her news hadn't reached him yet. A week was a long time to be gone from Belfast.

Sucking her teeth, she took a deep breath and prepared herself for more fireworks.

"I spoke wit' Darragh Ryan a few days ago." The mere mention of the officer commanding's name had Jimmy guzzling from the bottle of Bushmills. "He agreed ta take me on in his unit."

"Ya made the right decision wit Darragh. The two of us workin' together isn't a good idea anymore."

His response left Catherine flabbergasted. She hadn't been expecting him to let her go without a fight. Moving out of Jimmy's unit didn't mean that his command over her was ending, but going under Darragh Ryan did pull her out of weapons trafficking completely. This new opportunity would have her working surveillance, counter-intelligence, and planning operations.

Jimmy cleared his throat to get Catherine's attention. "There's somethin' we need ta talk about, Catherine."

"We've nothin' ta talk about," she sneered. "What ya did ta me…I never wanna see ya again."

Rolling his eyes, Jimmy strolled the short distance back to the table where he picked up a large orange envelope. Confusion whirled through Catherine as she took it from his outstretched hand.

"Yer suspended from active duty, indefinitely. Darragh already knows; I had the charges filed right after ya left Cali."

Jimmy's words made Catherine's head spin. As quickly as she could, she tore into the envelope and pulled out three crisp pages. As she read the first page, her eyes were having a hard time focusing on the words as her vision started fading in and out. Her entire body began to shake like a leaf when her worst nightmare was confirmed. There it was, clear as day:

hereby summoned to trial by Court-martial.

Choking back tears, Catherine flipped the page to read the charges against her.

"Ye mother fucker!" she screamed. Jumping off the counter, Catherine pushed Jimmy until his back hit the wall. She repeated the charges outlined in her summons. "Insubordination, reckless behavior, and fraternization. Are ya fuckin' jokin' wit this shite?"

It would be a lie if Jimmy told Catherine his decision to have her face a court-martial wasn't personal. He was just as scorned as she was over what happened during their trip to California. During the process of drafting the charges, Jimmy kept telling himself he was doing it for her own good, as she was starting to feel as though she was untouchable. It was time to remind her of the rank she held, and that in the end, Jimmy wasn't her friend or lover, he was her superior officer.

"I warned ya not ta see Filip, an' ye disobeyed that order, not once, but twice. In the process of disobeyin' said order, ya acted recklessly by bein' seen in public wit SAMCRO, drinkin'. On top of it all, ya fucked a Sons patch member, which ye know is not allowed. All ya had ta do was listen, Caitie. Ye left me wit no choice. Am I clear?"

Catherine took a deep breath, hating the fact she had no room to fight him on it. In hindsight, anyone else in her position would have to face a court martial if they acted as she had. She knowingly broke commonsense rules, and she had no choice but to humbly face the consequences. Continuing to lose her composure with Jimmy, would only give him more ammunition for her trial. The one thing she feared more than death, was being excommunicated from the IRA. What she had to devote her time to now, was finding a lad to act as her representation and build her defense.

"Aye. Yer clear."

"Grand," Jimmy grabbed her cheeks and maneuvered her head so she was forced to look up at him. "We good?"

It took a nanosecond for his question to penetrate her brain. When she comprehended those two words, Catherine smacked Jimmy's hands off of her and took a step back.

"Are ya fuckin' mental? No, we're not good!"

He knew she had every right to be pissed beyond belief, but he didn't think she would respond that way. Catherine forgave him for his past transgression, so Jimmy couldn't figure out what was keeping her from doing it this time. Their relationship followed a fluid formula that typically consisted of drinking, fighting, and fucking. Usually in that exact order. But, what Jimmy failed to grasp was that in his rash decision to file charges against Catherine, he hammered the final nail in the coffin lid of their relationship. If pulling rank was how he was going to respond to personal vendettas, then Catherine wanted nothing more than a working relationship with him.

Catherine swore the ache she felt in her chest was that of her heart breaking. For her entire life, she had loved Jimmy unconditionally, thinking there was no part of that man, which could drive her away. In her eyes, he could do no wrong, but he had so far crossed the line of decency that Catherine wasn't sure who the man standing before her was anymore. The Jimmy she knew and loved would never turn to physical violence against her, nor would he drag her through the demoralizing and emotionally draining process of a court-martial. Jimmy knew first hand the toll it took on a person, as he had gone through it firsthand following his actions against Chibs.

"Yer not even sorry, are ya?" she asked.

Jimmy's hesitation told her everything she needed to know, but she still waited to hear his pathetic excuse of an answer.

"I really am sorry fer losin' me cool wit ye, but, ye have no idea how badly ya pissed me off an' pushed me ta the edge."

His gut reaction to blame her for him losing his temper was something Catherine should have seen coming. His deep-rooted fault in never being able to accept responsibility for his actions always felt Catherine frustrated and helpless. Nothing was ever his fault, the people around him were always the ones screwing up, and if they hadn't, then Jimmy wouldn't have lost his temper.

Catherine threw her arms up in defeat and walked out of the kitchen without a single word. Jimmy followed her, hot on her heels, as she marched up the stairs and to her bedroom. From under her bed, she grabbed a duffle bag and placed it on the mattress. Now, it was Jimmy's turn to feel helpless as he watched her pull clothes from her dresser.

"What the hell are ya doin?" He grabbed her bag off the bed and held it above his head, out of Catherine's reach, like a tantruming child.

She wasn't going to give into his tactics and respond impulsively. The only thing Catherine had at this point was her dignity, and for her own sake, she needed to be the level headed one. "I think t'would be a good idea if I stayed wit me parents fer a while. After the court-martial, we can talk an' figure out where ta go from there."

Jimmy's stomach dropped and he thought he going to be sick. He felt like he was outside of himself, watching his relationship with Catherine fall apart and there was nothing he could do to put the pieces back together. From the beginning, he had known bringing her to California would be a mistake, but there was no way to predict this was how it would turn out. Of all people, Jimmy blamed Chibs for the demise of his life with Catherine. Had the Scotsman just left his niece alone, she wouldn't have felt inclined to indulge in her curiosity, thus avoiding trouble altogether.

Surrendering, Jimmy placed the bag back on the bed and took a seat beside it. Catherine returned to packing, stuffing all of her necessities inside.

"It's over, isn't it?" he asked.

When he looked up at her, Catherine stopped zipping up the bag as she swore she saw tears welling in his eyes. She never thought he was capable of showing human emotion, and the expression of pure heartache tightening his face only added to her agony. Catherine had managed to catch a glimpse of how Jimmy felt, but his attempt to open up to her was too little too late. He hated himself for pushing away the only girl who had ever meant anything to him. No matter what, she would always be his Catherine—his mo chuisle—and if she was ready to move on, he needed to let her go.

"Aye, it is." At the sight of tears streaming down her cheeks, Jimmy jumped up. He drove his fingers through the wavy copper locks he loved so much and held her face close to his. Catherine wanted to pull away, but she also wanted to savor this last moment with him. "Ya need ta stay wit' Fiona, an' raise Kerrianne. That's yer family, Jimmy, that's where ye've always belonged."

Her voice was thick, laced with anguish that plunged a dagger deep into his heart. Fiona and Kerrianne wasn't the family he wanted; he wanted Catherine and wee ones of his own. When their noses brushed, Jimmy let his guard down, and for the first time in seventeen years, he cried.

"I promise I'll make it right again." Jimmy choked.

Catherine shook her head and pulled away. Jimmy's heart seized as she pulled the Claddagh ring off her finger, before reaching for his hand and placing it in his palm. The tears skated faster down his cheeks as she closed his fingers around it.

He begged, "don't fuckin' do this, a chuisle. This is only a rough patch, an' we can get through it."

Watching Jimmy breakdown right before her eyes and fight the urge to comfort him, was one of the hardest things Catherine had ever done. She wanted to gather him tight in her arms, reassure him everything would be fine in the end, but she couldn't bring herself to lie to him. Or, most importantly, herself. Wiping the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands, Catherine grabbed her duffle and slung it over her shoulder.

"I have ta go." That was all Catherine said before turning on her heels and dashing down the stairs. She was afraid if she didn't leave now, she never would.

Slipping on her shoes, she grabbed her keys and court summons and headed home to the Lower Falls. It was a ten-minute drive to her parent's house on the west side of the river. The only thing that kept Catherine from crying over the grief of her seemingly dead relationship with Jimmy, was the summons sitting on the passenger seat of her car. When she pulled up in front of the house, Catherine quickly gathered her stuff and hurried to the door. She refused to hang her head low as she pushed through the gate and knocked on the front door, reminding herself thrice over not to cry even a single tear over the past.

Patrick opened it, looking beyond surprised to see his daughter standing in front of him with a duffle.

She lifted the summons to show her father. "The mother fucker is makin' me appear before a court-martial."

He hadn't a chance to respond to her, as Catherine collapsed into Patrick's arms. Her face buried in his chest, the father and daughter embraced each other tightly. There was only so much Patrick could do to sooth Catherine, as her shrill sobs soaked his t-shirt with tears.