Nestled away in a quiet housing estate in Dundalk, Ireland, Catherine was enjoying time away from her responsibilities back home. She had been in the Republic for only a few days, but nonetheless, they had been the most relaxing days she could remember having. Several other lads from all across Ulster were there. Most of them hailing from Crossmaglen, as they too experienced a wave of arrests. No one over the age of twenty-five occupied the home.
Catherine was growing to enjoy the company of the men she was forced to board with. They constantly kept her laughing, which helped ease the stress. She had no idea this world even existed within the IRA and found herself wondering if her experience was any different from Patrick's. It wasn't totally a vacation; they were still kept in the loop of what was going on in the North. On one occasion, Catherine had defied her orders and helped plan an operation with the commanders from South Armagh.
More than anything, though, Catherine was enjoying her time away from being under the microscope of Jimmy O'Phelan.
Not surprisingly, it turned out to be another gloomy night that forced the vagabonds to keep indoors. Running out of activities to ward off the inevitable cabin fever, they decided to dedicate that night to a poker tournament. Beer and adrenaline flowed through the veins of the eight people. The air was thick and hot, swirls of smoke floating in wisps above their heads.
"I can't believe ya blokes have special poker visors."
Seamus Doherty looked up at Catherine. A cigarette dangled from his lips and a plastic green visor covered his forehead. An emerald tint was cast upon his face, thanks to the glow of the soft light hanging over the table. He was a designated gunman from a unit in Belfast.
"It's a rare and special occasion when we play poker." Seamus' speech was slightly slurred from the numerous beers he had consumed. His expression was serious. "It's necessary we use the proper props ta celebrate the said occasion."
"Yer full'a shite, Doherty. Youse guys play all the fuckin' time when yer here." A lad from Newry cut in.
Catherine narrowed her eyes at Seamus, taking a sip from her beer can. "Is that true?"
He shrugged. "We run a lot of operations."
She chuckled as Seamus dealt out a fresh hand of cards. As they each picked up the cards and rearranged them, Catherine shuttered at the idea of spending a majority of her time in safe houses. That was particularly why she enjoyed staying out of the roles that would bring the most attention to her. After every operation, anyone who had either pulled a trigger or placed a bomb was forced to spend at least a week in the Republic.
There had only been a handful of times in her life when Catherine played poker, but this wasn't the typical tournament. With about forty dollars between the eight of them and a few drinks in their systems, they had decided to keep things interesting by playing strip poker. No one had protested. So, there they were, sitting at the table with no shirts on. Catherine was thankful she had remembered to put on a cute bra that morning.
Small beads of sweat formed along the back of her neck when she realized she had terrible cards. Things could be worse for her, as two of the South Armagh lads sitting across from her were only in their briefs.
When Doherty flashed a smile and wiggled his eyebrows, Catherine knew she was in trouble.
"In honor of Her Majesty the Queen…a royal flush."
Leaning over the table to get a better look at his cards, Catherine mouthed a "fuck," as she tossed her's down. She only had a pair of three's.
"O'Toole!" The seven men cheered in unison, thrilled they were about to get a once-in-a-lifetime glimpse of her in only her underwear.
Catherine's cheeks burned crimson. She had always been a modest person, feeling a little too far out of her comfort zone just sitting there in her jeans and bra. A part of her thought about just calling it a night and heading to bed. Since her release from jail, she was still feeling queasy from whatever germs she had picked up at Musgrave.
Remembering all the fun she had been having since she left Belfast, Catherine decided to throw her hands up and say fuck it. Jimmy wasn't there to criticize her for wanting to let loose and act her age—this was her time. As she stood up from her chair, the kitchen erupted into cheers and cat-calls. The whistles as she went for the button on her jeans had her blushing brighter than a stop sign. Her hands trembled as she pulled down the zipper. As shy as she was and for badly she wanted to run upstairs and hide, Catherine enjoyed breaking her traditional mold. Sliding the tight denim down her thick thighs, it felt insanely liberating for Catherine to be free from her jeans.
"Hang on jus' a second," one of the South Armagh lads called out. "Does the good girl from Belfast have a tattoo on her arse?"
Draping her jeans over the back of her chair, Catherine hid her face in her hands. She did, in fact, have a newly added tattoo that was the result of a very drunken night with Brien. It now being visible for all the lads to see was her punishment for deciding to wear panties that barely covered her ass. There was absolutely no way Catherine was going to get out of this mess, and she knew it. Admitting defeat, Catherine turned around to show them the simple and small, black heart inked on the upper, outside portion of her right ass-cheek.
"Ye've got a little more bad girl in ya than we all thought."
She wasn't sure why but hearing that her reputation was that of the goodie-good girl slightly stung. It wasn't that she feared to step outside of the norms, she just didn't see reasons why she should.
Just as she was about to open her mouth and make a jab at that statement, she was interrupted with the back door opening. Her heart raced and skipping several beats when she saw who walked through the door.
Jimmy instantly noticed the color drain from Catherine's face when she met his gaze. All of the laughing and teasing came to an abrupt end when Fiona closed the door behind them. They were soaked from the pouring rain, not in the mood to deal with the antics of twenty-somethings. As if she wasn't embarrassed enough, Catherine was downright humiliated when she saw Jimmy furrow his brow and curl his lip in disgust at her standing in the kitchen in only her bra and panties. Fiona covered her mouth with her hand, averting her eyes from the young, half-naked men circled around the table. They all suddenly felt like children, having been caught by their parents doing something wrong.
The last thing any of them had been expecting was for Jimmy O to drop in for the night. Catherine knew Jimmy and Fiona were also in the Republic, but she had no idea the safe house in Dundalk would be on their itinerary.
Not even dropping the two duffle bags slung over his shoulders, Jimmy headed to the stairs. Before heading up, he turned his attention to Catherine, seemingly ignoring what he had walked in on. "Get ta bed; got early meetings tomorrow. I'm gonna jump in the shower. Ya comin' Fi?'
Ready to burst into tears, Catherine grabbed her pants and put them back on. As she searched for her shirt, she overheard Fiona tell Jimmy she wanted tea first. Jimmy headed up the stairs, Fiona plugged in the electric kettle, while the men scrambled to clean up the cards and beer cans.
The game was over.
Catherine was trying to sneak past all of them unnoticed, hoping she could get to bed without any incident. She was relieved to hear that she had an early meeting in the morning, as that meant there was no more lollygagging with her debriefing with the Security Unit. The business card she had been given by the detective at Musgrave was burning a hole in her bag, and she was getting anxious to talk with them about it.
Attempting to make her way up the stairs, while the guys headed into the living room, Fiona stopped Catherine.
"Sit down," she instructed.
Catherine did just as she was told. Feeling her nerves start to rattle, Catherine lit a cigarette.
Placing a mug of tea in front of Catherine, Fiona watched her closely. Her heart did a nose-dive when Catherine picked up the mug then quickly set it down, repugnance washing over Catherine's face.
Fiona had seen the signs the first time she sat down with Catherine, nearly a week before. Her breasts were swollen, her face and belly were bloated. Her mood was all over the place; happy and laughing one moment, then angry or weeping the next. Not to mention her now sensitive stomach as of late.
Desperately, she wanted to ignore it. Praying with all her might that it wasn't true and that the combination of exhaustion and stress was finally taking a toll on the young woman. On the other hand, Fiona knew she'd only be making a fool of herself if she turned the other cheek.
Taking a sip of her tea, she set it down on the saucer, not allowing her gaze to divert from Catherine. Then, she asked the hardest she's ever had to mutter:
"How far along are ya?"
Catherine froze. Fiona noticed the perplexity that contorted her face as she tried to digest those five words. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, Catherine examined her cigarette for a moment, before quickly crushing it in the overflowing ashtray.
"I've no idea what yer talkin' about."
For a split second, Fiona wanted to reach across the table and slap Catherine across the face. She knew exactly what was being asked of her. She was deliberately ignoring the question.
Catherine had noticed the subtle changes in her body, but she thought very little of it. Stress had completely swallowed her life to the point she didn't find it odd that suddenly she couldn't remember the last time she had a period. Slight weight gain wasn't unusual either, as greasy food was what she turned to for comfort. As for the rushing waves of nausea, Catherine convinced herself she had picked up a bug from the jail.
Nonetheless, she knew her reasons were beyond flawed. This was just a reality she was hoping to avoid until she could get her life back on track. Excusing herself from the table, she dashed upstairs ready to brush her teeth and call it a night.
Knowing full well that Jimmy was still in the bathroom, Catherine didn't care and she burst in any way.
"Oi!" He called out, quickly covering himself below the waist with his towel. "The hell do ya think yer doin'?"
Brushing off his annoyed tone, Catherine went about her business. Grabbing her toothbrush, she spread on a glob of mint paste and got to work. Jimmy finished drying off, wrapping the towel loosely on his hips. All the while, Catherine refused to look at him, even in the mirror.
"Caitie," he said, softly.
He was hopeless to get her to speak to him again, but Jimmy was met with a hostility he hadn't seen coming. When he placed his hand on her shoulder, Catherine aggressively shoved Jimmy away, tossing her toothbrush in the sink. She wasn't in the mood for him to pretend he wanted to make things better again.
"Don't fuckin' touch me!"
It wasn't ideal, though, she was speaking to him.
He understood why she was upset with him and Catherine had every right. However, if their grievances weren't aired now, they never would be. Catherine was the person Jimmy loved far too much to allow their relationship to go up in searing flames of resentment. When he saw her dart for the door handle, Jimmy squeezed himself in front of the door to bar her exit.
Catherine took a deep breath, obviously trying to keep her temper at bay. Getting into it with Jimmy was the last thing she wanted to do, considering she already had enough on her plate. She worried that if she said the wrong thing, he would only use it at her debriefing as an excuse to keep her from doing her job for even longer. Also, with his significant other just downstairs, she didn't want Fiona to overhear her and Jimmy arguing about their relationship woes.
Belfast didn't seem so bad after all.
"Please, get out of my way." Catherine calmly requested.
When Jimmy didn't budge, she asked again, this time dropping the "please."
"Hear me out, a chuisle,"
Catherine snapped at the sound of her childhood nickname rolling off Jimmy's tongue. He had lost the right to call her that the night he sucker punched her, twice, in the face. Never again did she want to hear him say that.
Without thinking, Catherine backhanded him. Nor could she control the tears that flooded down her cheeks. "Don't ever fuckin' call me that again."
The sting of her having cracked him reverberated throughout Jimmy's entire face. He knew he deserved it, and the faded bruises on her neck were his reminder to just let it go. Every single night for the last two weeks, Jimmy prayed hard for the strength to never fly into a rage around her again.
Watching her chest heavily rise and fall, he was having a hard time figuring out what was going on in her head. Ever since he had her brought up on court-martial charges, Jimmy could see she was falling apart.
"I get that yer cross, Caitie, but,"
She backhanded him again. This time, it stung both of them a little more.
"Hell was that about?" He whined, rubbing his reddened cheek.
Instead of answering him, Catherine responded with another slap. He had so badly tormented her both emotionally and physically, that watching Jimmy recoil in pain brought on a catharsis for Catherine. So, she hit him again, and again Jimmy flinched.
"How do ye fuckin' like it?" Catherine cried.
Balling her hand into a fist, she purposely popped Jimmy near his left eye. The bruise he had been left with after his trip to Musgrave was still fresh, and when her fist collided with his injury, it sent bolts of lightning through his brain.
"Motherfucker!" He yelled, reaching for her wrists.
Catherine surrendered and let Jimmy pin her arms on the door above her head. To some extent, she had scared herself. Finding slight pleasure in physically hurting others wasn't something Catherine had expected to experience. But, there was no doubting that nothing felt better than knocking Jimmy around. His fingers bit painfully into her wrists and his body was uncomfortably close to her. The only sound that filled the stuffy bathroom was their labored breathing and Catherine's sniffles.
Having Jimmy that close caused Catherine to squirm. She tried to maneuver out of his grip, but Jimmy could tell she wasn't fighting as hard as she could be. Either she wanted to be there with him and she didn't want to fully admit it, or she simply didn't have the strength to struggle. Jimmy could remember how fatigued and under the weather she had looked while they were in jail. Finally getting a good look at her for the first time since he arrived, he knew in his heart something wasn't right with her.
"I'm so fuckin' sorry fer what I did 'ta ya." Jimmy broke the silence.
It irritated him that Catherine wouldn't meet his gaze. She had no intention of hearing anything he had to say, as Catherine was sure it would be nothing more than empty promises of change and a better life. She was tired of constantly being let down by Jimmy, it was time for her to take charge of her own life. Waiting for a man to make her happy would get her nowhere.
When Catherine still refused to look at him, even after he told her to, Jimmy released her wrists and grabbed her face. Catherine jerked her head from side-to-side, pounded her fists on his chest, but none of that worked to get her free. To keep her still, Jimmy pressed his body flush against her.
"I know there's absolutely no excuse fer what I did. Believe me, I'm a fuckin' wreck without ya. There's no one else in this world that keeps me grounded the way ye've always had. I need ya by my side; I've always needed ya."
Catherine became frustrated that she couldn't control her emotions. She wanted to remain placid, allow him to say what he needed to in order to make himself feel better, so she could just get on with her night. Instead, she allowed his words to saturate her, and it wasn't long before the tears started again. Biting her lip, Catherine began to wither beneath him. It broke Jimmy's heart to see that the damage he caused may not be repairable after all. Resting his forehead on hers, he brushed their noses. Catherine's head was screaming at her to get out of his stronghold by any means necessary, but her body betrayed her and began to slightly relax.
"Please, forgive me, a chuisle."
He knew he was taking a chance by calling her that while her hands were free, but for Jimmy, it was a risk worth taking. There was no possible way he would ever be able to stop calling her that. Much to his relief, Catherine didn't hit him. She gripped his forearms.
"I can't," she croaked.
"Why? Why can't ya?" Jimmy could feel his own tears bubbling in the corners of his eyes. "I can lose everythin' in this world, expect fer ye."
Catherine moved her eyes up just in time to catch a glimpse of the tears skating down his cheeks. This time, she used her thumb to wipe them away for him, just as Jimmy had wiped hers away countless times. The unconditional love would always keep them connected, but it was the sex and romance that complicated everything. In a different time, Catherine knew her and Jimmy would have been able to be together. While she was more willing to get go of him and hopefully bring peace back into their lives, Jimmy wasn't as easy-going. He was a stubborn man, who got whatever he wanted when he wanted it. And, Jimmy wanted Catherine now, regardless of the hell, it would bring upon the two of them. As long as he had her by his side or in his arms, his life seemed calm.
"Because what yer doin' is not only self-destructive, but yer ruinin' my life, and Fiona's. I can't forgive ya fer ruinin' my life."
Jimmy truly thought he wasn't ruining Catherine's life by having her go before a court-martial. In his mind, he was making her a stronger soldier, a smarter soldier, who wouldn't make rookie mistakes. While he had never expected for her to spend time in jail, Jimmy wanted to tell her that was only a taste of what was to come if she continued to play fast-and-loose with the men in the Sons of Anarchy.
He deflected most of what she said, not wanting to admit that he was the expert of self-destruction. Kissing her forehead, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, Jimmy was surprised when Catherine didn't try to stop him. "Ye know we were meant ta be together, Catherine. Look at everythin' we've gone through, and yet, here we are. We love each other an' that's all that matters."
Defeated, Catherine gave in. When his lips crashed upon hers, she dropped her hands from his forearms so she could tangle her fingers in his chocolate locks. The feeling of her warm mouth sealed around his ignited a firestorm of lust within Jimmy. A streak of lightning flashed in the midnight sky, just seconds before a clap of thunder rumbled through Dundalk. The startling noise caused Jimmy to wrap his arms tighter around Catherine, as her fingers gripped the roots of his hair.
Their tongues tangled and fought for control as the sky began to dump buckets of rain. Catherine untangled one hand from his hair and rested her fingers on the hem of the towel on his waist. Jimmy playfully ran his tongue along the roof of her mouth, tickling her. Just as she was about to pull his towel off, a knock at the door stopped them. Jimmy muttered a cluster of four-letter words as he broke the kiss, resting his cheek against her temple.
"Jimmy!" Catherine recognized the voice belonging to Seamus Doherty. "One of the commanders from South Armagh is here ta speak wit ya."
Discouraged by the fact he had gotten so close to feeling Catherine snuggly wrapped around him, Jimmy tried to hide his annoyance. With Fiona there, he didn't need the lads catching wind of what he was doing with Catherine, as everyone knew they were on the outs. However, Catherine took the interruption as a reinforcing sign.
"Once I'm done wit' this shite, I promise I'll spend the night wit' ya." Jimmy kissed her knuckles.
Shaking her head, Catherine dragged her thumb along his lower lip. "Ye should be wit' Fiona tonight. If God knows we're meant ta be together, he'll find a way ta bring us closer."
