1997 - Crossmaglen, Northern Ireland

Catherine was practically cornered in the toilets of the lively pub. The women were friendly or were at least pretending to be, and Catherine wasn't going to be rude and dismiss their attempt for conversation.

They had seen her at parties for the last three weekends now, and the way Dessie's eye always seemed to follow her.

Together they stood in front of the mirror. The four women fussed over their appearance. One of them offered Catherine her compact to powder her nose, another passed on her bottle of Chanel perfume.

The one who looked to be the oldest peered at Catherine in the mirror. She turned her attention back to her own reflection, fluffing her flattening curls. "There's nothin' easy about bein' with men like him."

A blonde standing beside Catherine nodded in agreement as she filled in her overdrawn lips with lipstick. "Once you're in, ya can't just change your mind or walk away. They need you more than you'll ever need them."

"But ya always have to be ready for the future," said the prettiest one in the group. She leaned against the sink and lit a cigarette. "Don't matter how many times things are rehearsed or how many times they go over plans. He could just be havin' an off-day. And when that off-day happens…"

A shrill voice came from the back, "Ya never know if you're livin' your final hour's wit' 'im. If the mission goes wrong...it's death or life in prison. Ya gotta let 'im know your head is as much in the game as his."

There was a collective "aye."

Before Catherine had the chance to meekly ask how she could do that, the blonde answered,

"Ya need to let him know how much ya love him. Look good and always posh. Don't be goin' to the bar alone, don't think about dancin' with another fella. And for the love of God, never ever find yourself near a bloke who's flirtin' with ya."

"Don't ever let him think there's another guy, either. You honor him. Always make him proud. Be appreciative of what he can give ya."

Catherine took careful notes of the instructions being handed down to her. Words of wisdom Olivia would never pass along. She had no idea there were so many rules to dating the men in their circle.

"But most importantly," the pretty one emphasized. "Never let him down."


January 2009 - Belfast, Northern Ireland

"Well," Dessie bellowed. "Are ya shaggin' him?"

Don't ever let him think there's another guy.

Catherine ran her hands through her hair. She wanted to pull it out and scream.

"No, I am not shaggin' him! Why would ya even think that?" she yelled back.

"She wishes," Jimmy mumbled, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Dessie's head snapped in Jimmy's direction, then to Catherine. He took the cigarette from behind his ear and clamped it between his teeth, walking toward the back door. "When I come back in, it would be in your best interest for him to be gone."

When the door closed behind Dessie, Catherine glared at Jimmy. She mocked his earlier statement, "Oh, I don't see Dessie around, do you?"

"I honestly didn't think he'd just show up like that."

"Ya should be thankin' him because he drove an hour to bring your son the stuffed animal he can't bloody sleep without."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. It would be a cold day in Hell before he thanked Dessie for anything. As he stubbed out the cigarette he stood up, then put on his suit jacket. "I'll be here-"

"No ya fuckin' won't. You've done enough, seriously. Go."

He bit his tongue. There was nothing else worth saying at this point. It left him feeling somewhat bitter to see how she treated him when there was another man in her life. As if the history they shared suddenly meant nothing to her.

And that was exactly the case. She was ready to move on from Jimmy, from Darragh. From Belfast. She was ready for a fresh start, free from the chains that had been shackling her for the last fifteen years.

When he had his raincoat on, Jimmy went in for a hug goodbye. When Catherine dodged it, his heart broke.

She wasn't going to allow Jimmy to get that close again. Trying to hold on to the scraps and faded memories of a past that had been mediocre at best wasn't worth it. Nothing would ever be worth seeing the hurt and fury on Dessie when he strolled into the kitchen.

Honor him.

She had gone against the only thing Dessie asked of her, foolishly thinking that when Jimmy said he wanted to talk business, it would be nothing but professional. There was nothing professional about how he pulled her onto his lap and kept a strong arm wrapped around her as if claiming his prize.

For the love of God, never ever find yourself near a bloke who's flirtin' with ya.

She wanted to kick her own ass. She had fucked up with Darragh, and now she was fucking up with Dessie.

Without a word, Jimmy turned around to head out the front door. When she heard it clicked shut behind him, she buried her face in her hands. Catherine choked back tears. They weren't tears over the shame she felt for the situation, but oddly enough, they were of grief. As she watched Jimmy walk away, she knew it was over. Saying goodbye to such a large part of her life wasn't easy. She wouldn't miss him, but she did miss the man he once was.

Dessie came in from the cold, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. He groaned and threw his arms up when he saw the bottle of Powers sitting on the table beside the unfinished glasses of whiskey.

"Jesus, Catherine. Ya even let him drink my whiskey? Ya never let a man drink another man's whiskey!"

Catherine stayed silent as she watched Dessie's every move. He grabbed the bottle by the neck, moving to the sink where he poured the rest of the light amber liquor down the drain. It was a tainted bottle; he couldn't drink it now. After throwing it away, he strolled out of the kitchen towards the door.

And there is was. Like every other goddamn man in her life, he was walking out instead of talking to her. If he wasn't going to bother talking about the obvious problem, she wasn't going to try and find a solution. She'd already been through one relationship which practically crumbled from the lack of communication, she wouldn't do it again.

Marching out of the kitchen and through the living room, Catherine headed straight for the stairs. She had such tunnel vision, she missed Dessie hanging up his jacket.

"Where the fuck do ya think you're goin'?" he quietly hissed. He didn't want to wake the boys.

Halfway up the stairs, Catherine turned around. "I should be askin' you the same. I actually wanna talk about this, but you just wanna run off."

Utterly confused, Dessie pointed to his feet. "I'm takin' off my goddamn shoes! Not sure how much talkin' you'll be doin', but you'll sure as shite be doin' a lot of listenin'. Get your arse in the kitchen; I'll be there to deal with ya in a minute."

That's fair.

With the obedience that was expected of her, Catherine headed back into the kitchen where she cleaned up the maps and made them tea.

Dessie needed a minute more to collect himself. He was still fuming, to say the least. The last thing he wanted to do was blow up on her, even if it was well deserved. When he saw Catherine sitting on Jimmy's lap, it had taken every ounce of self-control Dessie had not to drop Jimmy with a one-two punch, then drive his butterfly knife through his neck.

Everyone has their vices. Dessie had three: booze, cigarettes, and women. Though he's managed to curb the latter for only one woman. Catherine's? It has always been Jimmy O'Phelan, and Dessie was about to break her of that addiction.

In the kitchen, he found her sitting at the table. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, and another mug sat in front of the empty chair at the head. Catherine didn't look up at Dessie as he sat, focusing her attention only on the floral design of her mug.

He took a sip of the tea she sweetened with milk and sugar, then lit a cigarette. "I'm givin' ya one last chance to be honest with me here. Have you been shaggin' him?"

Finally gazing up to him, Catherine shook her head. As she blinked, tears slipped from her eyes.

"When was the last time ya did?"

"The night he was released from Maghaberry," she croaked, wiping her eyes dry. "Which I already told ya about."

They hadn't been together when that happened, though it didn't feel anything less than a dagger to the chest for Dessie. He ignored his insecurity and own past mistakes, which were screaming at him to dismiss what she was saying. Once upon a time, he'd been right where she is, and with a straight face, lied through his teeth to his wife that he hadn't just been inside some nameless, faceless woman.

Just like him, Catherine had experience in holding up against the most grueling forms of questioning. So Dessie had to trust she wasn't treating this as just another interrogation and she was telling him the truth.

"Why was he here?"

It was the third time he's asked that question but used different wording than the other two. Catherine was smart enough to understand he was using debriefing tactics on her. She couldn't blame him, and she answered as if she were in a debriefing. She recounted every move she made, every move Jimmy made, as well as everything that was said.

Catherine hated the fact that it felt like she was talking to her commanding officer. Not working out an issue with her boyfriend.

He listened, finishing his tea. "You're gonna ask Fi for your key back, yeah? Your parents have a copy, so does Brien, and I have one, too. No one else needs to be gettin' in here. I swear to fuckin' God, Catherine, he is never allowed to step inside this place. If he wants to see Eamonn, you bring him to Jimmy. If he comes here, the only thing you're to do is call me and I will deal with it. If I don't answer, call your Da and then one of my guys so they can try to get in touch with me."

She agreed, but there was one issue. Jimmy was their superior officer, and for as long as she was still in the Belfast Brigade, she'd have no other choice than to see and speak to him on the regular. Refusing communication could end with her being court-martialed and that wasn't a risk either was willing to take.

"You're not an officer anymore," he said. Catherine didn't appreciate the reminder. "So ya shouldn't be involved in any of the decision makin' to begin with, but if he needs to talk to ya about anythin', it happens at a meetin' house."

But most importantly, never let him down.

"Aye. I promise it'll never happen again. I swear to you, it won't."

Dessie nodded and said nothing for a moment.

"Darragh told me what happened between you and Jimmy when youse were drivin' to Newry to pick up the kit from me for the IPLA operation. There's one thing ya need to understand; I am not Darragh. You let any fella slip his fingers in your fanny, I'll pack your bags myself."

Given his track record, Dessie didn't care he sounded hypocritical. She was none the wiser and that's all he cared about.

Catherine caught a chill which had nothing to do with the frigid temperature outside. Her hands prickled with numbness, making it difficult to strike the lighter for the cigarette she reached for. When she finally got it lit, she took a long drag. Never in her life has she felt so humiliated or betrayed. Darragh had promised he didn't tell a soul. If Dessie knew, who else did?

"I bust my ass at the garage nearly fifty-hours a week, on top of runnin' the brigade, Catherine. I don't have the fuckin' time or the energy to fight with ya about Jimmy, so this is the first and only time we'll be havin' this conversation. I love you and I wanna have a life with ya, but if you'd rather be with Jimmy, let me know now so we don't waste each other's time."

Ya need to let him know how much ya love him.

Catherine placed her still burning cigarette in the ashtray and stood up. She settled onto his lap, pushing his hair away from his face as she pressed her forehead to his. Her hands wandered, fingers tangling in the chain he wore around his neck.

She could barely force the words out over the knot in her throat. "I don't want Jimmy, or anyone else." Her voice broke, just as the tears broke free from her eyes. "You're the one I wanna spend my life with, Dessie. I love you so much. You're my best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you. I promise I'll never hurt you like I did Darragh; ya have to believe me. Please, please, believe me."

He did believe her. It was hard for him to imagine the one woman he deemed to be so perfect was capable of such sin.

Dessie could feel his jaw tremble as Catherine spoke. His eyes stung and blurred with tears. Wrapping her tightly in his arms, Dessie buried his face into the crook of her neck. Catherine curled her arms around him, holding on as if her life depended on it. The grip he had on her grew tauter as she felt the warmth of his tears drip onto her neck.

Sitting there, just holding each other, was a form of true intimacy neither had ever experienced. It was comforting and scary at the same time. They've only ever been able to bare their souls to each other. They weren't afraid to be vulnerable, knowing full well the other would be within arm's reach when they fell.

When they unwrapped from one another, Dessie immediately grabbed Catherine's face in his hands, and she did the same to him. They wiped away each other's tears, before embracing in a much-needed kiss.

Once they pulled apart, Catherine glanced at the stove for the time. "It's after ten. Ya should probably be headed back to Cross."

Dessie shook his head. "All I wanna do is go upstairs, have sex with ya, then fall sleep with you in my arms and a big fat fuckin' smile on my face."