1994 - Falls Road, Belfast

Jimmy surprised Catherine and met her outside of St. Dominic's when school ended for the day. She passed the exam she had been stressing over with flying colors, as he knew she would, so he saw it fitting to treat her to pizza.

With his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, the two began their casual decent down the road. They laughed and joked, made plans for the upcoming celebration of St. Patrick's Day.

It all came to an end when Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks.

"Shit," he breathed, dropping his arm from her shoulders.

Catherine looked up at Jimmy, wild butterflies filling her gut. The color just about drained from his face, his eyes blazed with a fearfulness she'd never seen from him before. Twisting her neck, she peered down the road and saw what was causing him unease.

Soldiers on patrol, their rifles held close to their chests.

Licking her lips, Catherine pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her middle finger. "You've somethin' on you, don't ya?"

"Aye. We can go around-"

"They're out in full force after the mortar attack yesterday, so there's no way we'll be able to avoid 'em. I've an idea."

Grabbing Jimmy's hand, Catherine crossed Cavendish Street to drag him into St. Paul's Church. Just inside the lobby, she shrugged off her backpack and placed it on the ground, then knelt so she could unzip it.

"Give it to me," she ordered, holding her hand out. Knowing Catherine's chance of being searched were just as high as his, Jimmy wasn't sure if this was a good idea. She could feel the worry radiating off of him. This wasn't her first rodeo; she'd done it several times with Patrick. With unshaken and confident eyes, Catherine held his gaze. "Please, trust me."

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Jimmy conceded. "Can't believe I'm fuckin' doin' this." Lifting the hem of his windbreaker, he shimmied the Browning pistol out of the waistband of his jeans. He gently placed it into Catherine's hand, where she immediately popped the magazine out and took the loaded round out of the chamber. His eyebrows shot up, his words laced with disbelief. "Jesus Christ."

"Don't look too surprised. You're the one who taught me how to do it."

"Once, I showed ya one bloody time."

Catherine shrugged, meeting his eye-line. "I'm a fast learner. Your chib?"

Jimmy leaned down and rolled up his left pant leg. He ignored her use of Scottish slang, knowing full well she picked it up from Filip, not Olivia. After tugging the combat knife from his Dr. Marten boot, he held it out to her so she could grab it by the grip. "Be fuckin' careful with that. It's sharp, so it is."

Watching Catherine carefully tuck it away in her backpack, a hard wave of disgust crashed over him. Something about her handling the very knife he used to slice a Glasgow smile into her uncle's face didn't sit well.

"That it?"

He nodded, holding out his hand to help her stand up. Catherine snatched the woolly hat off his head and clamped it between her teeth as she pulled her long ponytail out of the elastic. After she had her distinct red curls hidden under the cap, Jimmy slipped the backpack on her. If she were to pass another patrol on her way home, the red hair would instantly give her away as Paddy O'Toole's daughter, which would result in her being searched from head to toe.

"Ya go straight home, understand? Dump the bag with Liam and meet me in an hour. I'll have Donny swing by before your ma gets home to pick it up." Jimmy placed his hands on her shoulders, amazed by how calm she seemed. "Have ya thought about joinin' the Fianna?"

Catherine vigorously shook her head. "I haven't; the Fianna is only for boys, anyway. And even then, for what? So before I'm thirty I can die in vain like Mairéad Farrell or spend nearly a decade in prison, like Dolours Price?"

"Your da know what kinda shite those shill teachers of yours are fillin' your head with? If ya stop listenin' to 'em, in fifteen years, me, your Da, and Liam'll be takin' orders from you."

Rolling her eyes, Catherine turned on her heels to push open the heavy wooden door. "They're not fillin' my head with anythin; I've two eyes and can see the carnage in Norn Iron for myself. Besides, I plan to attend uni and then marry a nice lad from the Republic and spend my life as far away from this place as possible. Maybe if everyone here could stop killin' each other for five minutes, t'would be a decent place to live."

"Ya can't run from it—it's in your blood, a chuisle. How 'bout this, the day you take your seat at the head of the officer's table, I'll buy you a pint."

She smiled, "Deal. But I hate to break your heart and say it's never gonna happen."

Burrowing her hands into the pockets of her coat, Catherine inched her way towards the sidewalk. Jimmy slid on his sunglasses as he watched her cross back onto the Falls Road, then tucked a cigarette into the corner of his mouth. As he started walking in the direction of the checkpoint, he shook his head, chuckling to himself.

"And when that day comes, may God have mercy on us all…because she sure as hell won't."


2008 - Lisburn, Northern Ireland

Returning to his cell freshly showered, Jimmy decided to take advantage of the empty phone. There was only one phone for prisoner use in Roe House, and that often caused conflict. So, Jimmy preferred to go old school by writing letters, but even then he didn't correspond much with the outside. The guards couldn't wait to read the letters he was sending or receiving, or listen in on his phone conversations.

After Catherine told him about Eamonn, there was nothing he wanted more than to talk with his son.

Strolling down the hall, Jimmy crinkled his nose at the strong scent of industrial cleaner hanging heavy in the air. He had the unfortunate timing of being locked up in the middle of a dirty protest. In 1979, he supported Patrick on the blanket, and then the hunger strikers in 1981. If sentenced to hard time, Jimmy was ready to follow the gallant footsteps of Bobby Sands, but living in filth and squalor was where he drew the line.

Picking up the phone's receiver, he tucked it between his shoulder and ear while dialing. As it rang, he planted the sole of one boot against the wall. It didn't matter to him that every man locked up with him knew he who he was, Jimmy refused to turn his back for even a second. It was still prison.

On the third ring, he looked at his watch. Considering it was half-five on a Sunday night, his palms became clammy and his heart hammered; it shouldn't take her this long to answer.

"Wasn't expectin' to hear from ya so soon," she snickered.

Catherine knew it was him calling. She got the generic message about their call being recorded and monitored before the line connected.

"Everythin' okay at home?" He was genuinely concerned, not expecting it to worry him as much as it did when it took her a while to answer.

"Aye, everything's grand. I was out in back playin' a wee bit of rugby with the boys, my Da and Brien. My Da's convinced that son of yours'll be the next Rory Best." Her lighthearted giggle took the weight of the world off his shoulders for a minute. Jimmy closed his eyes and imagined her smile, wishing like hell he could be there, too.

"Liam isn't with youse?"

He heard the squeak of the back door as Catherine closed it. Knowing the conversation was being listened to, she had to speak carefully. "He's dealin' with leaky pipes, so he is. It's an absolute bloody mess, but nothin' we can't handle."

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and rested the receiver against his forehead. He had to collect himself before spouting off something that would only come back to bite him in the ass.

Remembering it was all in Catherine's hands now, he had to let it go. If there was anything she needed him to do, his lawyer would pass on the message.

After all, he was taking orders from her now.

"How's Eamonn?"

"Dead-on. He keeps askin' about ya, but I'm brushin' it off 'cause I haven't the slight idea what to tell him."

"Can I talk to him?"

"Aye," she affirmed, without the slightest hint of hesitation. He heard the back door open again and her calling outside to Eamonn. Then she said something that almost made his knees buckle, "C'mon, daddy wants to talk to you!"

After a few seconds of scuffling and mumbled words, Jimmy heard Eamonn's voice. He slightly choked up, the realization that he'd have to watch Eamonn grow up from inside Maghaberry was hitting hard.

"Hey, how've you been doin'?"

"Good!" Eamonn exclaimed, clearly excited to finally have the chance to talk with Jimmy. "I keep askin' Mammy when you're gonna be home, but she said she doesn't know. Do you know when?"

"It shouldn't be much longer, I promise. How's school goin'?"

Eamonn gave a very detailed rundown on everything going down at St. Matt's. His love for gossip matched his mother's—by the time Catherine graduated, Jimmy knew every juicy rumor floating through the all-girls grammar school. When most people would just smile and nod, not absorbing a single word, Jimmy actually listened.

"Are you and your brother behavin' for your ma?"

"Well, I am. Sean…not so much."

"Oh, yeah? What has he been up too?"

"I dunno," he testified.

Jimmy chuckled. He couldn't even be mad that Eamonn refused to throw his brother under the bus. At a young age, he was already taking the idea of "I didn't hear anything, I didn't see anything, and therefore I don't know anything," seriously.

When an automated voice broke in to warn there were only five minutes left until the call disconnected, Jimmy asked him to put Catherine back on the phone.

"Okay, Daddy, here's Mammy."

Closing his eyes, Jimmy soaked in his son's words. His throat tightened and every emotion imaginable punched him right in the gut.

"I hope ya don't mind if he calls you that," she spoke softly. "He asked if he could and I didn't have the heart to tell him no."

"Hearin' him call me Daddy is all I've ever wanted, Catherine. Be honest with me, how's he really doin'?"

Catherine sighed, which wasn't a good sign. "Honestly? He's been strugglin'. Every time I tell him that he can't see or talk to ya, he breaks down. Gettin' him to do anythin' is a fight, especially at bedtime. He won't go to bed because he wants to wait downstairs in case ya come over, and once I do convince him to go upstairs he refuses to sleep in his bed. But you know how it is; he's just a little more, sensitive, I guess. I think he gets it from Liam."

Jimmy didn't have the heart to tell Catherine their son was more like him than they both thought. Growing up, he'd been the sensitive one, with Filip by his side, always ready to defend him. How could he tell the woman who fought every single one of her own battles that the man she perceived to be just as strong, broke down just as easily as her son?

"I'll make sure to call as much as I can. Maybe that'll help. I wish I was there to help you when they get rowdy."

"Don't worry about us, yeah? Your main focus is gettin' out, so let me handle everythin' on this side of that hell-hole you're in. Please, trust me."

Suddenly, Catherine wasn't a twenty-nine-year-old woman with her own family and responsibilities. Hearing her utter those three words, "please, trust me," she was fifteen and shoving his pistol and combat knife into her backpack without the slightest bit of apprehension.

Taking a breath, Jimmy knew he could let go, put all his trust in her taking care of what needed to be done.

He croaked, "I told ya you couldn't run, a chuisle. It's your blood."

"Yeah, well, just get your arse home because ya owe me a bloody pint."


Lower Falls - west Belfast

When Liam walked through the door after a long day of work, he found his sister sitting on the sofa. She blew out a steady stream of smoke from her nostrils and crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.

Liam sat in the armchair across from Catherine, easing his aching feet out of his steel-toed boots. "Where's Eamonn and Sean?"

"Your wife was sweet enough to take 'em to a movie with Erin. I haven't seen ya since I got back, figured I'd wait. I'm so happy you and Da didn't end up in Maghaberry with Jimmy."

The way Catherine tilted her head to the side and emphasized the latter statement sent chills down his spine. Resting his forearms on his knees, Liam interwove his finger.

She continued, "I've been so lucky; I was only brought into Musgrave once. When the detectives were yellin' at me, sayin' how they knew I'd been apart of all these operations, all I could think about was how much I'd let down Da, Jimmy, you—the cause. I wasn't scared by the idea of spendin' thirty years in prison, I was devastated thinkin' I'd been so bloody stupid, I caught a fed tail and didn't even realize it. And then Detective Wright said somethin' that made me realize I didn't have a tail, but instead we had a rat amongst us."

Reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the table, Liam took one and lit up. Now he understood why Catherine sent Shauna out with the kids. He was just hoping his wife and daughter wouldn't come back to an empty house, then days later find out he'd been left on the side of some border road in the Republic, his body beaten and tortured. Almost fifteen years in the Ra now, Liam knew exactly what happened to those who dared exchange money for highly sought after secrets. When the secrets were spilled from the inside, the punishment was even worse.

At this point, there were two things he could do: deny it, or be a man and face the consequences for his actions. Denying any involvement with the PSNI would only make the remaining time he had before death more barbaric. He wanted to go quick and painless; maybe a bullet to the back of the head as he stumbled back to the safe house drunk.

"Your own father, Liam? How could you do that to Da? After everythin' he's sacrificed for us and everythin' he's already been through, this how you-"

"Don't ya fuckin' dare lecture me on what Da sacrificed for us, Catherine!" Liam shot up from the chair and tossed the cigarette into the ashtray. Standing in front of her, he placed his hands on the top of the sofa to corner her. "The stories he tells about what went on in the Kesh was his own doin'; t'was all his choice. Ma was the one who sacrificed everything so we'd never have to go without! We spent so much time with Uncle Filip and Aunt Fi, and Jimmy because Ma knew if we were with one 'em, we'd have a fuckin' meal to eat. I tried to keep you and Da out of it, I really did. I never meant for you to get picked up, ever."

"Is that the Catholic guilt kickin' in?"

Liam leaned down further, bringing his mouth to her ear. He whispered, "The only guilt I have, is that you were in the bedroom when I paid the UDA to take out Jimmy."

Catherine thought she was going to be sick. Goosebumps prickled her skin and the blood pounding in her ears drowned out the rest of his words.

She still had nightmares about that night; how Jimmy narrowly managed to tackle her to the ground before her bedroom was littered with bullets.

"It was my house! Of course, I would've been there; you almost had me fuckin' killed!"

"You weren't supposed to be there! Ya were supposed to be at home with Ma and Da because of the riot in the Short Strand. I thought for sure Jimmy would drop you off and then go get the rifles."

"Why, why would you even do that in the first place?"

Pushing off the sofa, Liam picked up the cigarette that was still smoldering in the ashtray. He sat down in the armchair, taking a long drag.

"Because I couldn't take watchin' him ruin your goddamn life anymore. No one else was steppin' in, so I took it into my own hands. After that screw up happened, I realized the only way I'd be able to get him away from you is if he were in prison. I stopped talkin' when you left the Ra and moved to Andytown with Darragh, then I still kept my mouth shut for years after Darragh died because I saw how much Jimmy was helpin' ya with the boys. But it fuckin' pissed me off to see how Eamonn looks more and more like Jimmy every day and last week when I saw the two of them just laughin' and playin' football at the park, I lost it. I went to the Serious Crimes Branch and told 'em everythin' I know. You, the boys…deserve someone a hell of a lot better than Jimmy O."

Hearing his reasoning only left her feeling more conflicted. It would be a lot easier of a situation to deal with if he touted simply to bring down the entire cause. How could she be mad at him when all he did was try to protect her? He did exactly what any big brother would do.

The problem? Unlike Liam, Catherine didn't believe she deserved better. Not after the one good man in her life was so savagely ripped away.

"Jesus, Liam," Catherine choked, running her hands through her hair. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Or the position you've put me in?"

"They promised me the Ra would never find out, and I sure as shite never thought you'd end up sittin' at the head of the goddamn officer's table."

Her eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, that makes two of us. But your biggest mistake was trustin' the peelers."

"Aye." Stubbing out the cigarette, Liam then clasped his hands. "I suppose you're here to turn me over to the Nutting Squad?"

His heart sank at the grief that glazed her eyes. Her trembling lip and the tears slipping down her cheeks were enough of an answer for him.

Bowing his head in silence, Liam swallowed the stinging lump in his throat. Nausea twisted his stomach when he realized he wouldn't have a chance to kiss his wife and daughter one last time.

The moment he handed off the envelope of cash to the UDA to kill Jimmy, Liam accepted his fate. It wasn't death itself he feared, but how badly Shauna and Erin would struggle after.

At the sound of his sister rustling through her large purse, Liam looked up.

For four days straight Catherine agonized over what to do. She didn't eat, sleep became a foreign concept. Eventually, she knew her decision would catch up to her, but when the day came when news of Liam's transgressions leaked, she knew she wouldn't regret it.

She wasn't doing this because she was looking to earn brownie points with the man upstairs or to even make herself feel like a good person. She made her decision on the fact her brother was a good, decent man who was always a little too delicate for the rough world they'd been born into.

From her purse, Catherine pulled out three blue booklets. Passport-United States of America was stamped in gold on the cover. She tossed them on the table along with credit and bank cards, a stack of papers that contained birth certificates, social security cards. Cash. Finally, tickets for a one-way flight.

"If anyone else were in my position, you'd already been on your way to the border. I'm not doin' this because you're my brother, I'm doin' this for Shauna and Erin." She began to cry harder, which made Liam cry, too. "Because I know first hand what absolute hell it is to bury the man you love more than anythin' in this world, and I know how difficult it is to be a single mother. Nor should Erin have to grow up without her da. Here's what's gonna happen: as soon as I leave here, you're goin' to meet with your solicitor and a detective to retract your statements on record. Then, you take your girls and travel to California, where Filip has agreed to help set youse up."

Liam felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. He didn't understand what he'd done to be given such mercy, but nonetheless, he wasn't going to question it. She just handed him a second chance at life; he'd do whatever she asked of him.

"Oh, God. Oh, Catherine, I-"

To stop her brother from speaking, she held up her hand and stood up. "This doesn't change the fact you're a tout. Or, nearly had me bloody killed. You are to never again step foot in any of the thirty-two counties. If I find out you've come back, so help me, Liam, I will kill you myself. Am I understood?"

Scuttling to Catherine, he wrapped his arms tightly around her. Her head rested in the curve of his neck and she held him just as tight. Saying goodbye was never easy, especially under circumstances as theses. If she could sell her soul for things to turn out differently, she would.

Liam knew there was no act of penance in the world that would make up for his disloyalty. As a sign of good faith for the grace she'd given him and his family, there was one piece of information he could pass on.

Nuzzling his nose into her hair, Liam lowered his voice. "The Kings sanctioned the hit on Simon Townsend. Then they voted to hand Darragh over to the UVF."

Lifting her head off his shoulder, Catherine's gaze was hard and icy. At that moment, Liam watched the life leave her beautiful eyes.

Never in her life had she felt such betrayal. She could make peace with Liam touting, or Jimmy telling the council she'd had an affair with Ian. Knowing it was the men who claimed leadership to the cause she'd dedicated her life to who authorized the assassination on the UVF's chief of staff and then willingly handed Darragh over for retaliation, that was something she'd never accept. Darragh long before paid the price of his crime against the UVF-there was no reason for the Kings to do what they did.

"They're done," she spat through clenched teeth. "Every last one of those mother fuckers."

"When you're done here, you'll know where to find me." Cupping her jaw in his hands, Liam pressed a kiss to her forehead.