Folding a pair of Darragh's boxers and stuffing them into his duffel, Catherine took a second to enjoy the quiet. Eamonn was down for his nap while Darragh took over Sean's feeding so she could finish packing for Donegal. They were set to leave the following evening after Darragh got off work.
On the nightstand, her phone buzzed. Flipping it open to read the text, Catherine deleted it after committing the message to memory. Though it came from a private number, she knew who had sent it. Glancing at her watch, she didn't have much time to get to the pub in Ardoyne.
Slipping on a pair of shoes, Catherine headed down the hall to Sean's room. When she opened the door, she found Darragh dozing in the rocking chair with Sean sleeping soundly in his arms. Deciding not to disturb her boys, she quietly shut the door and would just leave a note on the table instead.
When she arrived at the pub in north Belfast, Catherine quickly spotted PSNI detective Ian Wright. He was sitting at a high table in the dimly lit corner, nursing a pint of Guinness. As she approached the table, Ian jumped to his feet giving Catherine a warm and welcoming hug. After they sat down, he pushed the glass of red wine he had ordered in front of her.
She thanked him for the wine and took a sip. "You know, I was a wee bit surprised that you wanted to meet here."
They usually met at the high-peak of Black Mountain, which gave way to the most spectacular view of Belfast. She may have no longer been in the IRA, but both Catherine and Ian were well aware of the risk she was taking by potentially being spotted with him in public. Jimmy wouldn't hesitate to pin the label of informer above her head. Then, it wouldn't take long until her naked tortured body, with a black hood over her head, was discovered on some deserted border road.
"Too hot to hike in a suit," he said.
Catherine couldn't blame him for that. The air was heavy with summer humidity, with angry clouds threatening to open up and pour fat raindrops.
When Catherine didn't answer him, Ian spoke again. "Missed you at the Sinn Fein meeting the other night."
"Darragh thinks I'm spending too much time with Gerry." Lifting her glass to her mouth, she was embarrassed to say that. "I may have to step back a little bit."
"Bollacks. You're on the right side of history now. Don't let him make you feel guilty for being diplomatic in the peace process."
"I learned a while ago that some battles are just not worth fighting."
"A united Ireland, done peacefully, is worth fighting for, no?" Ian raised his eyebrows.
Catherine only nodded.
She never had the chance to meet with Ian under the circumstances the Irish Kings had wanted her to. Instead, their paths crossed unsuspectingly at the community center in New Lodge the night the operation to wipe out the Irish People's Liberation Army had taken place.
Instead of following her orders, Catherine handed Shane Carrigan's killing off to another volunteer and opted to attend the Sinn Fein forum. Immediately, Ian had recognized the scared, pregnant girl who was standing alone in the back of the room. After the meeting, he offered to buy her dinner. As they ate in silence, Ian realized she wasn't the same person who he had interrogated at Musgrave.
To get her talking, Ian confided in her about his past. A Strandtown boy with both Irish and English blood, he had always felt more connected to his Celtic heritage. Turned away from the UVF because of his Catholic mother, and ignored by the IRA because he was a Protestant, Sinn Fein was where he always felt welcome.
With her many verbal and physical altercations at the forefront of her mind, it didn't take much convincing from Ian for Catherine to leave behind her paramilitary days.
"Come on, Catherine. Even you know the violence isn't right. This isn't the life you want—being told what you can and cannot do. I thought you wanted freedom. I won't be the last one to tell you that as long as Jimmy O'Phelan is in charge, True IRA is the furthest thing from freedom."
Less than twelve hours after Ian said that to her, shock waves ripped through every Republican Army faction as the news of Catherine's resignation spread from County Antrim to County Kerry. The Ra now viewed her as a charlatan and she couldn't care less. She still honored her former comrades, refusing to tell the PSNI, even Ian, the ins-and-outs of the clandestine organization.
Their friendship had grown organically, even though Catherine's guard had been higher than the peace walls. Growing up in a republican stronghold, she was taught to never trust anyone who didn't share her same beliefs of religion and politics.
Desperate to open her mind and heart, Ian quickly showed Catherine that not every one of English blood was the enemy. He helped her piece together some of her unanswered questions about Chibs and her father's pasts without asking for anything in return.
Because of Ian, Catherine had discovered Jimmy lied to her about Chibs being a tout. When she confronted him about it, it became such an explosive exchange that even Darragh and Fiona got involved, defending their respective significant others.
All hell broke loose when Jimmy looked Darragh straight in the eye and admitted to the sexual activity that took place during the trip to Newry. Usually a man of great self-possession, Darragh beat the utter life out of Jimmy in broad daylight, on the corner of Beechfield and Edgar in the Short Strand.
Darragh had left Belfast for three weeks after that. No one knew if he ever planned on coming back and Catherine expected the worst. Confident their relationship was over she had been in the process of boxing her things up when he returned. Catherine was certain it was God's grace that led Darragh to forgive her and she lived every day of her life in penance.
He faced his court-martial head-on and pled guilty to the crime no less than five other IRA men had witnessed him commit from their front windows. He also wanted to be spared a trial, to make sure the details of what happened didn't get out. It didn't matter how upset he was at Catherine, Darragh didn't want her to face anymore embarrassment from her former comrades. Though the court of his peers had ruled to have him demoted from his officer commanding status, he was right back in the position soon after—as if he hadn't been punished at all.
That left Darragh feeling untouchable.
"You hear back from the Embassy yet?" Ian swallowed his last bit of beer then signaled to the waitress for two shots of whiskey.
Catherine rolled her eyes, an attempt to keep from crying. "Aye. Bastards denied me. I'm still a terroristic threat."
"I don't wanna say I told you so, but, I told you so. Have you told your uncle yet?"
"Not yet. He won't take the news well—he wants me outta here more than anyone." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I told me Da that I'll probably head to Tralee…so fucking sick and tired of this place. I have no idea what to do."
Ian cleared his throat. He waited for the waitress to drop off the shots before speaking again. "There's always one option. Depends on how badly you want out of here." Catherine took a large gulp of her wine. She couldn't be sure if they were on the same page. Once he divulged a little more, she knew they were. "It'll put a huge asterisk on your arrest record and MI5 will pay for you to move wherever—"
"And then I'll have to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. You sat in an interrogation room with me for forty-five hours. I'm not a tout."
Reaching over to the empty seat, Ian grabbed an envelope and tossed it on the table. "Maybe that'll help change your mind. Do the right thing for Eamonn and Sean." Without another word, Ian knocked back the whiskey before jumping to his feet. He tossed money on the table and grabbed his suit jacket. "If you wanna talk, you know my number."
In her car, Catherine sat with her eyes closed and head resting on the headrest. She listened to the rain ferociously hitting the roof. Ian's words played over and over in her mind, telling her to do the right thing for Eamonn and Sean.
She wanted to keep living in the ignorant bliss that Darragh would evade the PSNI for his entire life. He was becoming reckless, which also made her worry about his standing with the Irish Kings. A part of her was having a hard time believing that the car bombing he had been involved in was okayed by the council. To put her mind at ease, she chose to believe what Darragh told her.
A rumble of thunder pulled Catherine from her thoughts. Turning her head to look at the passenger seat, she blankly stared at the envelope. She didn't dare to open it just yet, so she reached for her phone in the cupholder.
Dialing the number, she didn't think of the time difference until after it was already ringing. Considering it was just past six in the morning, she thought about hanging up, but the line picked up before she could.
His voice was rough. It sounded like he had been up for far too long.
"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked.
She did, but he wasn't about to admit it. Besides, waking up to the sound of that Belfast accent would be the highlight of Happy's day. Half the time he couldn't understand a damn word she was saying, though that didn't change the fact he enjoyed their conversations.
"Nope. Just rolled back into Tacoma a few hours ago. Jax and Clay had me doin' some work in Charming."
He half-lied. He had been in Charming, but he got home late the previous night. Catherine didn't need to know that.
"How's Chibs?"
"Same as always. Gettin' excited to see you, and meet the boys. Got an apartment and job all lined up."
Catherine took a deep choppy breath. The tears skated down her cheeks as she blinked. Over the lump in her throat, she choked out, "I'm not coming."
Across the Atlantic, Happy shot out of bed hearing her admission. "What the hell do you mean you're not coming?"
"They denied my visa, Hap."
"Fuck. Did not see that coming at all. Have you told Chibs?"
"Not yet. He's gonna be devastated. I'm never gettin' off the Emerald Isle."
"Don't say that, kid. We'll figure it out—grease whoever we gotta grease." His bit of optimism brought a small smile to her lips. "SAMBEL keepin' an eye on you?"
When Catherine first reached out to Chibs and Happy about coming to Charming, Happy was left feeling uneasy that Catherine had no one looking out for her. He didn't like how things had ended between her and Jimmy. Though the IRA hadn't turned their back on Catherine, Happy didn't trust them in the slightest. Their loyalty was to Jimmy, not to her. Feeling the same, Chibs had quietly asked Clay to reach out to McGee and ask if they could watch over her.
"Aye. Appreciate ya settin' that up for me." Being in Andersontown now, she didn't their assistance often as she rarely visited east Belfast anymore.
There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Keep your head up, alright? We'll get it figured out. It's a bump in the road, not the end of the world. Everything will work out how it's supposed to."
Hanging up the phone with Happy, Catherine felt slightly better. She needed reassurance. Tossing the phone back into the cup holder, Catherine picked up the envelope. Freeing the prong from the eyelet, Catherine pulled out the stack of papers inside.
"Darragh, you fuckin' eejit," she said, looking at the first grainy photo.
It had been taken at Eddie Rylie's funeral only a few days ago. He was dressed in his full camouflage fatigues, pulling a balaclava over his head. The photo had been snapped just in time to get him with his face uncovered.
The next one was another of him in fatigues. But instead of the balaclava, a dark green scarf covered his nose and mouth, aviators shielded his eyes, and the beret sat snugly on his head. The Easter Lily pin in the center of his beret, and by the fact, he was holding the Tri-Color while in formation with other men, told Catherine it was an Easter Rising commemoration.
Her heart dropped into her stomach when she flipped to the next one. At the same commemoration, dressed in the same uniform, with the same scarf, sunglasses, and beret, was Catherine.
She was standing at attention—feet at forty-five degrees, her chest out and curled fist tracing the seam of her trousers—behind Darragh. She was identifiable by that goddamn scar that went from her hairline to eyebrow and her copper French-braided pigtails.
There was another one of the two of them in uniform when they attended the funeral of a veteran IRA volunteer.
Then, there was them in the park with Eamonn, then eventually of them with Eamonn and Sean.
It wasn't just Darragh they were coming after. The PSNI still wanted her, too.
But that quickly became the least of Catherine's concerns, when she saw the final piece of paper.
At home, Catherine found Darragh asleep on the couch. She turned off the television and took a seat on the coffee table. For a moment she watched him sleep, wondering how she wanted to go about discussing the new information she learned.
After what happened with Jimmy, Catherine knew she didn't have the right to be upset with him. What mattered to her was that he had remained faithful. But even if he hasn't, she'd have no choice but to forgive him as he had forgiven her. What upset her, was that he hadn't been honest. Every dirty and gross detail of her past, Darragh knew. She had nothing to hide. It made her feel insignificant that he had hidden this from her.
Did Liam know? she wondered. And if he did, Catherine's next stop would be to his house to deliver the next ass chewing.
As she stared at Darragh, Catherine thought about gently waking him up, killing him with kindness for the rest of the night and then surprising him with the atomic bomb right before bed. But she was far too angry at him to do that. She needed to hear his explanation and she needed to hear it now.
Reaching over, Catherine ran her fingers through his soft hair. He stirred, repositioning the throw pillow he was holding against his chest. She couldn't deny how unbelievably cute he looked as he was fast asleep. Too bad it wouldn't last long.
Lowering her hand down, Catherine covered Darragh's nose and mouth with her hand. It took less than three seconds for his eyes to pop open. He thrashed slightly from the surprise of having his air supply cut off.
"Whose Amber?" she asked, removing her hand from his face.
In his disoriented state, Darragh couldn't comprehend what he was being asked. Unsatisfied, Catherine twisted his nipple, asking again. She refused to let go until he answered her.
"She's my bloody wife!"
The pain of having his nipple nearly twisted off had brought Darragh to the floor with Catherine.
He looked at her with shame in his eyes. The blank expression on her face had him worried. She knew the truth, but that didn't stop it from hurting any less when the words spilled from his mouth.
The man she loved belonged to another woman. Catherine wanted to kick her ass for falling into this situation for a second time.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "How long?"
"Don't ask questions you don't wanna know the answer to." Heeding his warning, Catherine repeated herself. He answered honestly, "Twelve years in September."
Catherine buried her face in her hands. She felt like the biggest idiot in the world. Twelve years ago, she was thirteen and he was eighteen. Her heart broke even more when she realized he had been hitched for three years already when they shared their first passion-filled night.
"And you never thought to tell me? You didn't think this would eventually come up? Is this why you never brought up the idea of marriage with me? Why…why didn't you fucking tell me?"
Darragh understood her confusion and arsenal of questions she had. He gathered her face in his hands, unsure of where to start.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. This has got to be killing you, but I swear I haven't seen or heard from her in seven years. I didn't tell you because it wouldn't have done you any good to know when we first met and I never imagined falling so fucking in love with you. I never wanted to hurt you and the longer I waited, the harder it became to come clean."
"Well, do you still love her?"
"Fuck no! I was an eighteen-year-old halfwit who was thinkin' with his cock. Knocked her up after seeing each other for like a month." He paused, swallowing hard. "Anyway, she had a difficult pregnancy and the baby was stillborn. We still tried to give the marriage a shot, but…here we are."
It suddenly hit Catherine that she knew nothing about Darragh's past. There was so much he would rather bury because it tore him to shreds to think about. He was the type of person who hated dwelling and looked forward to better days.
Catherine was stunned. How was she supposed to respond to that? She kissed his wrist and watched him as he stared at Sean sleeping in his bouncy chair. Catherine would never understand how much Sean meant to Darragh. She also now understood why Darragh had been so insistent on being closely involved during both of her pregnancies. And why he had been a nervous wreck during both deliveries.
Internally, she was screaming at the top of her lungs. After losing one child so suddenly, Catherine felt it would make her a monster to rip the boys from him just because she disagreed with his lifestyle.
Neither Olivia nor Fiona agreed with the life their men led. But, they stayed by their side because that's what the women of IRA men do. Through every raid, arrest, and prison term, Olivia never even thought of leaving Patrick.
"After we buried the wee girl, we came to Belfast for a change. Joined the Ra because I couldn't find a job. She hated it. When I went to Maghaberry, she took off, Dublin I think. You stuck by me the entire time—through the trial and my sentence. You were put in my life for a reason."
His words crushed her.
"How come youse never divorced?"
Darragh sinisterly laughed. "Too fuckin' broke for that shite. I fucked myself over because now I can't make an honest woman of the one I love."
Everything will work out how it's supposed to, she heard Happy say.
In a split second, Catherine had a decision to make.
Removing Darragh's hands from her face, she stood and headed to Eamonn's room.
When she pushed the door open, she found him playing quietly in his crib. His right cheek was reddened from having it pressed to the mattress during his nap. He lit up at the sight at of his mother, reaching to be picked up. Resting Eamonn on her hip, Catherine reached under the mattress in his crib. After snatching the battered envelope, she headed downstairs.
Tossing in on the coffee table, Darragh picked it up. When he looked inside, his jaw nearly fell to the floor.
It was the money she had planned to use get her and the boys set up in California.
Before he could ask, Catherine answered his question. "Nearly thirty-thousand. That's everything I earned running guns with Jimmy. I saved it in case I ever had to get outta Belfast. You can use it to cover the cost of a divorce." Then she headed to her purse and grabbed the photos Ian had given her. "We use the rest to hire a damn good solicitor because they're closing in on us."
Once he flipped through the photos, Darragh tossed them on the table along with the money. He scrubbed his hands along his face. It was one thing if he went back to prison, but he couldn't bear the thought of Catherine ending up at Hydebank and the boys growing up without either of them.
Darragh got off the couch and picked Sean up from his bouncy chair. He couldn't help but mirror the jubilant smile that pulled at his son's lips. Without looking up at Catherine, he said, "Make sure you pack that money. When we leave for Donegal tomorrow, we're not coming back to Belfast."
A/N: I want to thank all of my readers who have stuck with the story thus far, and patiently awaiting for SAMCRO to become the main focus of the story. I promise it's coming, very, very soon. I have the next couple chapters written, and unfortunately for her to reunite with Chibs and Happy again, her life has to completely fall apart. Also, before getting frustrated with Catherine, just know that she will redeem herself once I begin hitting plot points from the show!
