Catherine pulled the hood of her waterproof coat over her head, dashing across the street to the idle car waiting at the curb. Sliding into the backseat behind the passenger, she welcomed the warm air blowing through the vents.

"How was your flight?"

Wiping the droplets of rain off her glasses, she then shook her long hair free from under the hood. She didn't bother looking at Galen O'Shay, who sat stoically beside her. "No complaints. Feels good to be home, so it does."

"How did it go with Putlova?" Declan didn't waste time with mundane conversation; he had bigger things to worry about.

"Just as expected," she answered, turning her attention to the man in the driver's seat. "Putlova agreed to ten-percent for two years, then a jump to fifteen. Jimmy said to give SAMCRO only a week to come up with the cash, but I'm hopin' with him...tied up at the moment, that'll give 'em a wee bit longer. I knocked 50-grand off the price to help ease the burden because we can easily find money elsewhere. McKeavy said he'll give youse a bell if they don't come up with it."

"Aye," the three Kings said in unison.

Peter looked at Catherine through the rearview mirror. "Have ya heard anythin' more from Dessie?"

"No. Not since I sat down with him and Jimmy after meetin' with the Real army lads in Dundalk. With so many of our fellas in the cages right now, I'm gonna reach out to Mickey in Derry, and ask if any of 'em would be interested in movin' over to work with us."

"You sure you can trust 'em?" Galen mused.

This time, Catherine turned her head and looked him square in the eye. "With all due respect, after everythin' that's gone down in the last year, I trust Mickey Ryan and his judgment more than I trust our fellas. None of youse had any idea Jimmy's plannin' to push SAMCRO out and usher in an entirely new generation."

The humid Ford filled with suffocating tension. Galen balled his hand into a tight fist and rolled his neck from side-to-side, in hopes of relaxing the kinks in his muscles. He tried his best to swallow the verbal outburst that threatened to escape. It wasn't the acting chief of staff he felt any ill-will towards; it was the man who formally held the position, who had no idea what kind of hole he was digging for himself. Still, it didn't change the fact he didn't appreciate her pointing out their obvious failures.

She didn't mean for her words to come out as hostile as they did. Nevertheless, she didn't regret a single word of it. Catherine was fed up with how the True army was operating. At this point, if the Real army approached her she wasn't entirely sure she'd tell them to bugger off.

"How close are ya with Jimmy?" Peter asked. "Are youse still…"

"Shaggin'?" Catherine met his gaze in the rearview mirror. She wanted to roll her eyes at him, but that was too much a show of disrespect, even for someone she felt little respect for. "I'm not. Jimmy and I haven't been, together, since before I found out I was pregnant with Eamonn."

Galen, Peter, and Declan exchanged glances with one another. It was as if they were trying to figure out who would speak next. As she watched them suspiciously, Catherine's stomach dropped and her heart began to race. That inner voice in the back of her head screamed that something was up.

She looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap. Regardless of the unease consuming her, Catherine kept her voice strong and steady. "Why do I feel like I'm not being told somethin?"

"Catherine?"

Instantly, she looked up at Galen. When those big blue eyes of hers blinked at him, Galen tensed. He could remember what she looked like nearly six years ago when he saw her at the safe in the Republic, her neck covered in bruises.

Bruises, which came courtesy of Jimmy O'Phelan.

Galan cleared his throat, "This isn't easy for us to ask, but we need ya to get close to him again."

The color drained from her face, and despite the warm air blowing on her, Catherine began shivering. She squeezed her eyes shut, cocking her head to the side, wondering if she heard him correctly. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"Are you…you're askin' me to have another affair with him, aren't ya?"

"You're the only one he trusts to talk to," argued Peter.

"We need ya to keep him close; keep him talkin'. If he gets the slightest feelin' that we know what's goin' on, he'll only get more slippery," Declan added.

Catherine licked her lips and took a deep breath. Falling back into bed with Jimmy was the last thing she ever wanted to do.

"And if I don't?"

Galen reached down and grabbed the hunting knife he kept strapped to his calf. He set it down between him and Catherine. The warning was clear.

"I fuckin' came to youse the day after I found out what's goin' on. Now ya wanna threaten me—"

Galen cut her off. "Two lads were each sentenced to eleven years after they were pulled over at the border with loaded mortar tubes, meant for an operation you planned. Now, assumin' my intel is correct, it just so happens ya were shaggin' a peeler around the same time. It seems to be quite a coincidence, yeah?"

Catherine's cheeks burned brighter than a strand of Christmas lights. If the Irish Kings knew about her affair with Ian, God only knew who else was privy to that information. She should have known sooner or later it would come back to bite her in the ass.

The Kings were well aware that the arrests of those lads happened because of their stupidity, and it was against her nature to tout. But they needed leverage—this was all they had on her.

"Who told you?"

Declan broke the silence. "Jimmy."

Instead of bursting into tears, Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose and started to laugh.

After seventeen hours of traveling, all she wanted was to see her boys, then try to catch up on sleep. Rather, this was the bullshit she raced home to deal with.

With that now hanging over her head, she knew she had no other option but to give in to what the Kings wanted. She did it to herself. Her loyalty to the cause was greater than her loyalty to Jimmy, which was why she had told them of Jimmy's plan in the first place.

Right about now, she wasn't feeling much loyalty to either of them.

"Of course he did." Twisting her hair into a loose bun, Catherine popped her hood back up. She opened the car door and placed one foot on the soaked pavement. "After I make it out to Maghaberry to see Jimmy, I'll meet youse in Donegal so we can figure out where to go from there."

Peter stopped her before she could jump out of the car. "It's unfortunate circumstances, but congratulations on the wee promotion. Godspeed, Catherine."

After giving Peter a weak smile, Catherine dashed back inside to wait for Eamonn and Sean to finish school.


"Close your eyes and hold your breath," she said, dunking the plastic cup into the soapy bathwater.

Eamonn did just that; his little fingers curling around the edge of the tub. As Catherine poured the water over his head clearing the suds from his hair, she choked on her laughter. He was making the same silly face Jimmy made when he was visibly uncomfortable.

"Alright, you're all done."

With the backs of his hands, Eamonn wiped the water from his eyes and stood up. Catherine pulled the plug to drain the tub before grabbing the towel off the counter. Eamonn's lighthearted giggle as she wrapped him the towel and picked him up was music to her ears. There were absolutely no words which could describe how much she missed her boys. Now that she was home, Catherine never wanted to leave.

Bringing Eamonn into the bedroom he shared with Sean, she set him down on his feet so she could dig through the dresser for underwear and a pair of pajamas.

Kneeling, Catherine let Eamonn use her for balance as she helped him step into his underwear. "Uncle Brien's gonna take you and Sean to the rugby match on Saturday."

"You're not takin' us?"

"I can't, a chuisle." The strain in Eamonn's voice broke her heart. It killed her she had to back out of the Ulster Rugby match she promised she'd take them to, but she was desperate to get to Maghaberry. "I have to go see Jimmy and I won't be back in time."

Something she said flipped a switch in Eamonn and she wasn't sure what it was. He took a step back, just looking at her as if searching for the words to say. Much to Catherine's dismay sometimes, he was a very inquisitive child.

"I don't wanna go with Uncle Brien, I wanna go with you to see Jimmy."

Catherine shook her head, as she reached for the long-sleeved shirt. "No, you're not comin' with me."

"Why?" he wondered, refusing to put the shirt on.

"Because you're not." She wasn't in the mood to fight with him, especially when he was just as tired and cranky as she. It didn't matter how many times he asked, she would give him the same vague answer. No way was she telling him he couldn't go because Jimmy's current residence was Northern Ireland's maximum prison. "Now please, Eamonn, put on your jammies so I can go lay down."

Snatching the top from Catherine with an attitude, the jaded five-year-old begrudgingly put it on. As he pulled it over his belly, he dropped a bomb she didn't see coming.

"But I wanna go see Daddy."

Catherine stopped mid-yawn, jerking her head to look at Eamonn. "What did you just say?"

"I wanna go with you to see Daddy."

"I'm not goin' to see Daddy," she snapped, her stomach twisting. Her heart was pounding so fast she was sure Eamonn could hear it. "I'm seein' Jimmy."

Eamonn looked at his mother as if she had two heads. Matter-of-factly, he said, "Jimmy's my daddy."

Squishing his cheeks between her index finger and thumb, Catherine turned Eamonn's head so he was looking at her. For a moment they stared at one another. She was searching his eyes for any hints that he was just being a smartass. When she found no such hint, bile burned the back of her throat and her eyes stung with tears.

She was hoping this was some sick joke the universe was playing on her, but it wasn't.

In a matter of only nanoseconds, Catherine had to compose herself. The boiling anger which coursed through her veins had nothing to do with Eamonn and she wasn't going to take it out on him. Though she managed to swallow the indignation, she couldn't stop the shakiness in her voice.

"Who-who told you that? Who told you Jimmy's your da?"

"Sean did-"

Before Eamonn could say another word, Catherine jumped to her feet and dashed to her bedroom. Snuggled up in the thick duvet, half-asleep while watching television, she flung the blanket off him.

Leaning down, Catherine rested her palms on either side of Sean. "Who told ya Jimmy's Eamonn's da?"

He slowly blinked those blue-gray eyes, trying to comprehend the question asked of him. She didn't want to come off as threatening, but when she asked the question again, the sternness in her tone woke Sean up.

"Uncle Brien said Jimmy's our daddy."

Our. Our daddy.

Right then and there, Catherine's world came to halt. And for the third time in her life, she fell flat on her face. She had no idea what to think or how to feel. She had no idea how to handle the words that were uttered by her four-year-old.

Clenching the emerald heart pendant hanging from the chain around her neck, it was white-hot in her palm. The painful lump in her throat bobbed as each stuttered gulp of air tore down her closing windpipe. A furious storm was ravaging her mind, making it nearly impossible for her to think clearly.

This wasn't supposed to happen, she shouted to herself. Eamonn was never supposed to find out. And to make it all worse, now Sean was convinced Jimmy was his father, too.

In Catherine's eyes, Darragh was their father no matter what the genetics said. He was the one who held her hand through the long and difficult delivery with Eamonn. He was the one who worked almost nonstop to make sure they were provided for. He was the one who gave nighttime baths, he even read to Eamonn every night.

The last thing she wanted was for her boys to grow up without even the slightest regard for the amazing man who had left them far too soon.

"What's wrong, Mammy?" Sean propped himself up so his knees were digging into the mattress. By the way Catherine looked visibly distressed, and how she was backing out the room, it worried him.

Instead of responding to him, Catherine bolted across the hall to the bathroom. She closed and locked the door behind her, collapsing against it. Sliding down, she ended up on the floor. Her knees and forearms supporting her weight, she beat the cold tiles with the side of her hand. Hissing a breath through her clenched teeth, all of her strength suddenly vanished. She balled up the damp towel on the floor and shoved her face into it, letting out a scream. It left her throat raw.

Never before had she so badly wanted to beat the life out of her brother. He knew just how damaging that news would be Eamonn and Sean, and he disregarded all of her pleadings for him to keep his mouth shut. Brien could tell her a thousand times over that it was an accident, and Catherine wouldn't care. For him, it may have been something to joke about. But for her, it was the one thing that brought unimaginable shame to her life.

Tiny hands knocking against the locked door dragged Catherine from what felt like a ninth circle of Hell. She had to pull herself together for their sake—they hadn't done anything wrong. There was no reason for them to see her upset.

"Mammy!" shouted Eamonn.

She tried the best she could to hide her ragged breathing to no avail. Her words came out choppy, laced with agony. "I'll be right out. Take your brother downstairs and pick out a movie for us to watch."

Slowly getting back on her feet, Catherine staggered over to the sink. She turned on the taps and splashed her face with cold water. Much to her displeasure, she looked terrible—puffy, bloodshot eyes. Black streaks ran down her cheeks from the eyeliner and mascara.

She scrubbed her face clean and patted it dry. As she hugged the towel against her chest, Catherine tried to formulate a plan on how to talk to them about it.

As badly as she wanted to pretend it didn't happen and go about life as normal, Catherine understood that wasn't an option anymore.

All thanks to her brother, and the Irish Kings who wanted her to bring Jimmy fully back into her life.

Staring at herself in the mirror, Catherine whispered, "Welcome home."