Republic of Ireland

Dessie and Kieran were just south of Dublin on their journey to Limerick by the time the sun fully broke through the horizon. They sat in silence for the most part, with Dessie concentrating on the road, and Kieran occasionally fiddling with the radio. Residual tension from the night before was still palpable, making for an uncomfortable drive.

Putting on his sunglasses, Dessie briefly glanced at Kieran. He had purposefully asked his operations officer and not Catherine to make the trip with him. They needed to clear the air - just the two of them.

Dessie was never one to be delicate, no matter how sensitive the subject matter was. He rolled down his window and lit a cigarette.

"This fuckin' problem with Cate all of a sudden... what's the deal?"

Kieran lit a smoke, too, surprised it had taken Dessie almost a hundred miles to bring it up. He'd been expecting the question from the moment they get in the car. There were two options: tiptoe around the truth and risk irritating Dessie more, or be honest and get it out of the way.

Kieran chose the latter.

"It's complicated. I've got nothin' against her as a person or as a volunteer when she was in Belfast. Just don't think she's a good fit for leadership down here."

"I'm not followin' ya there, mate."

Taking a long drag from his smoke, Kieran tried to formulate the best way to say it. "You, Paddy, Seamus, youse think her head is still in the cause, ya know? I'm not with ya on that; she's been workin' with Jimmy for way too long and she proved that last night. She completely disregarded all the progress we've made, only focused on how much product she and the lads've moved. She's thinkin' like a mafioso, not a soldier."

Dessie's left hand tightened around the steering wheel. His white knuckles didn't go unnoticed by Kieran and that response only emphasized his previous assertion that Catherine was immune from criticism. It annoyed the men under Dessie's command to see him so strung up over a woman, he refused to see her points of weakness.

"She's a brilliant soldier," defended Dessie. "She always has been and she always will."

Kieran flicked the cigarette out of the window, snapping back, "How many operations has she been on in twelve years? Don't get me wrong, she's as smart as a whip, but she's not Ra smart."

Dessie's heart began hammering against his ribs, and he could feel his cheeks start burning. Who the hell did Kieran think he was making such an accusation against Catherine?

"The fuck are ya talkin' about?"

Kieran shifted uncomfortably in the seat, his heart was now starting to race, too. The last thing he wanted to do was start a fight, especially when they were on their way to handle serious business. But Dessie needed to open his eyes and look three feet in front of him.

"Answer the goddamn question, Dess. And her helpin' us move smokes from Dublin to Forkhill or her callin' in a warnin' for a bomb doesn't fuckin' count. How many times has she been on the ground with an Armalite in her hand?"

"Fifteen...twenty, maybe. And a majority of 'em were with us when we needed the help." The words tasted sour as Dessie spoke.

"My point. What happened in October? Jimmy told her to stand down and she went after the shipment anyway because she didn't wanna lose the money. Even you knew it was a mistake - any good commander would've let it go and dealt with the ones responsible. She almost got us fuckin' killed over somethin' that's easily replaceable."

"She only did that beca-"

"Stop fuckin' defendin' her! Jesus Christ. Four years ago, ya demoted Siobhan for no good reason, and never brought her back as an officer. Catherine deserved her demotion and what did you do? Turned around, makin' her your fuckin' adjutant."

Dessie lit another cigarette right after ditching the first. He was trying not to lose his temper. "Siobhan isn't officer material and Catherine is. She deserves to be adjutant be for me or Jimmy."

"So, if it were me suckin' your cock, would I've gotten the job then?"

Dessie couldn't stop himself bursting out into a fit of laughter at how the conversation had taken a different turn. "You can't be serious."

Kieran grew furious, not appreciating the fact he was being patronized. "That position was mine and you know it. Twenty years I've given you, and keepin' me in the same position for ONH is how you recognize all the work I've done?"

Dessie tossed his half-smoke cigarette out and rolled up the window. With his hand now free, he pulled at the strap of his belt, unbuckling it, along with unsnapping the button of his jeans. "You want the job, then blow me. But know you'd be the one gettin' it for suckin' me off, not Catherine."

"Fuck you," Kieran said, getting the point. "This is a fuckin' waste of time because you're not even listenin'. You don't give a shite about the men who've worked their arses off and proved 'emselves. You got chief of staff, so why should ya give a shite..."

Now Dessie felt like a real ass. He had always prided himself on being the one commander who kept tensions to a minimum by making all volunteers feel they were being heard. The opposite was happening now and that was never his intention. He cared about all the men under his command, whether they were officers or rank-and-file.

Taking a breath, Dessie tried to see through his vexation. "What do you think should happen then? What would make you and the lads feel more at ease about the situation?"

Kieran was taken by surprise, not having expected such a response.

"Gotta separate your sex life from the Ra - put your bias aside. The lads are ragin' ya chose Catherine as adjutant and not one of us. You need to make that right, Dessie."

"Aye," he breathed. "I suppose I do."

Upshifting as he sped down the deserted motorway, Dessie realized a pissed off wife was easier to handle than a coup.


Crossmaglen, Northern Ireland

Fiona had come with an agenda.

She spent the entire hour's drive rehearsing what she planned on telling Catherine. Nonetheless, it all went forgotten once the front door opened and Fiona saw her.

So here she was, forty miles from home, sitting at a dingy kitchen table across from the woman who had an illegitimate son with the man she's been living with for the last fifteen years. They sipped tea and ate a sausage roll as if all's well.

With their deep-seated history rich with betrayal, they didn't pretend to like one another. Catherine and Fiona were mature enough to be civil, not wanting to make anyone in the family feel as though they needed to take sides. Seeing each other when obligated resulted in small-talk, mainly about the weather, their children. But the last time Fiona stopped by for a surprise visit was still fresh in Catherine's mind and that put her on edge.

"I don't mean to be rude, Fi," Catherine said, finally breaking the silence. "But what are ya doin' here?"

Straightening up, Fiona wiped the pastry crumbs off her fingers with the napkin tucked halfway underneath her mug. It was hard for her to look at Catherine, knowing full well Jimmy had been the one to bust her face.

"Believe it or not, if I would've known what he was up to when he left the house, I would've warned you."

"I don't need your pity."

Fiona took a moment to calm herself before she snapped back at Catherine. This trip was about dousing the flames which were burning the bridge of their relationship, not adding more fuel.

"Whether you wanna admit it or not, we're more alike than you think, Catherine. We both joined the Ra because we thought that's what we were supposed to do. We each fell deeply in love with and lost a man in the cause. And we both let Jimmy poison our lives. The difference? You dared to leave him - I don't."

Catherine pushed her half-eaten sausage roll to the side, having lost her appetite. She didn't see it the same way as Fiona.

"I only ended it because Darragh came along and he was my safety net."

"You're not givin' yourself enough credit, lovey. He's been gone almost five years now and ya never went back to Jimmy even though ya knew he'd take care of ya and the boys."

Catherine shrugged.

Reaching into her tote bag, Fiona took out a stack of papers and handed it to Catherine. "These are photocopies; I found the originals sittin' on Jimmy's desk the other night. What he did to Filip, he's plannin' to do the exact thing to Dessie."

As Catherine thumbed through them, she thought she was going to be sick. She became lightheaded when she realized it was a summons for Dessie to appear in front of a True Army court-martial.

The last page was a letter, which almost made her burst into tears.

Desmond Dennehy, it started. The True Irish Republican Army hereby gives you seven days' notice from the date of this letter to leave the occupied six counties. If you wish to remain in Ireland, you must stay south of Dublin. Our reasons for putting you out of the occupied six counties are: insubordination, fraternisation with a subordinate, jeopardising IRA activities. After the seven days expire, an order of execution will be released if you are still residing within the six counties.

It was signed, P. O'Neill.

The letter was post-dated ten days before they were to be officially married.

"Jimmy saw Filip as a threat, and he sees Dessie in the same way. He already bought his guilty verdict," Fiona explained. "Just like Filip refused to leave Belfast, Dessie'll never leave Cross - it's who they are. This is Jimmy's twisted way of gettin' Dessie killed without it comin' back to bite him in the arse."

"I fuckin' hate him," whispered Catherine. The letter crumpled in her hands as she balled them into fists.

Fiona had never heard such abhorrence in Catherine's voice before.

"Ya need to tell Dessie what's goin' on, so he can strategize. With the Real army now part of the True, he can request they sit on the court instead of Jimmy's thugs. Maybe then it'll be a half-fair trial."

Regaining her composure, Catherine set the letter on the table and smoothed it out so she could read it over again. Even if Dessie was found guilty of insubordination, it wouldn't result in exile, only demotion. The fraternization charge wouldn't hold up because Catherine had still been an officer when she and Dessie hooked up in Dundalk. As for jeopardizing IRA activities, that no doubt stemmed from what happened in October.

If Jimmy were smart, he would have charged Dessie with stealing the shipment of AK's. She guessed he hadn't because he didn't have a lick of evidence connecting Dessie to the heist.

There was no way for Fiona to know what was going on inside Catherine's head, but she guessed Catherine had probably killed Jimmy thrice over. She did understand the rage Catherine was feeling, as she felt the same way when Filip was court-martialed over something he wasn't guilty of.

From her bag, she produced a folded, yellowing envelope. Inside were the photos Fiona found in Jimmy's ransacked office the day he was arrested and sent to Maghaberry.

"It's a petty move, but maybe if Dessie were to file the same fraternization charges against Jimmy, he'll drop it. There are two photos in there which'll prove you were a subordinate when your relationship with Jimmy started. I don't think he'd risk a demotion."

Catherine had no idea what Fiona was talking about, so she peeked inside. As soon as she saw her eighteen-year-old self smiling for the camera with Dessie's arm wrapped around her, she instantly closed the flap.

Those were the photos from Dessie's thirtieth birthday. A night where she and Jimmy had gotten so drunk, Catherine thought it would be a brilliant idea to document their lovemaking. She had completely forgotten about the existence of the photos until that very second.

"One more thing," Fiona added. In the center of the table, she set a MacBook and its charger down. "I'm not sure what the password is, but knowin' Jimmy it's gotta be somethin' to do with Pearse or Connolly. Maybe Eamonn's birthday."

Catherine just stared down at the laptop. There were so many questions sitting on the tip of her tongue. Jimmy never brought it home, always keeping it safely locked away to be sure no law enforcement ever got their hands on it. How the hell did Fiona manage to get near it, let alone swipe it?

But there was only one answer Catherine wanted.

"Why are you givin' me this shite?"

Fiona picked up her mug of tea and took a slow sip. As she softly set it down, she shrugged.

"I don't know what you and Dessie are up to, but I know it's somethin'. We all want freedom from Jimmy, and this is my way of helpin'."

"You hate me," Catherine blurted. "Why would you help me?"

Fiona's demeanor softened and her heart broke.

"You're my niece, Catherine. I love ya just as much as Filip does. You were practically a child when Jimmy dug his claws into ya, and I'd be a bitter hag for holdin' that against you. The situation is what I hate. I see so much of myself in you, and your relationship with Dessie reminds me of what I had with Filip. I wanna help because I don't wanna see what happened to me and Kerri, happen to you and the wee ones."

For once, Catherine didn't know what to say to Fiona. Their relationship has been so volatile she wasn't sure how to react to the act of kindness.

"What should I do?"

"As for you and Dessie, youse need to be a united front. Don't leave him to face this court-martial on his own. I made that mistake with Filip. And Jimmy...you know his strengths and weaknesses better than anyone else. You're smart, you'll figure it out."


Catherine was lying in bed with Toy Story humming quietly from the television. She ran her fingers through Eamonn's red hair, enjoying the peaceful moment with her boys. Sean curled up against her, his small hand placed right on her belly as he was determined to feel a kick from his little sibling.

They hadn't had the chance to tell Eamonn and Sean another boy was on the way but based on their reaction to when Catherine said it could be a girl, she had a feeling they'd be more excited than Dessie had been. It brought indescribable joy to see how thrilled they were for the new addition.

She tried desperately not to let Dessie's looming court-martial take away from what was supposed to be a jovial time in all their lives.

Hearing her phone buzz on the nightstand, Catherine picked it up and read the text from Dessie.

Back in Forkhill, it read. I need you here.

Sighing in frustration, Catherine looked down at Eamonn and Sean. They were bathed, in their pajamas, and half-asleep tuckered out from their day at the playground.

She shot back unenthusiastically, Be there in 30.

Grabbing the remote, Catherine paused the movie which earned her a symphony of groans from her tired boys.

"I'm sorry, but we gotta go to Forkhill for a wee bit."

"No!" Eamonn cried, burying his face into the crook of Catherine's neck. "It's so boring there."

She felt defeated, not wanting to drag them out when it was already way past their bedtime. Unlocking her phone, she sent Dessie another text message.

Can it wait until the morning? The boys are exhausted and so am I.

Less than a minute later, her phone pinged again.

It's not a request.

Under her breath, Catherine muttered, "Fuckin' arsehole."


It was nearly eleven when Catherine pulled up to the farmhouse in Forkhill. In the headlights, she saw Dessie and Connor jogging down the steps of the porch, flicking their cigarettes to the ground. Before she even had a chance to turn the engine off, Dessie opened the back door of the new SUV and started to unbuckle the sleeping Sean from his booster seat. Catherine got out to get Eamonn.

"You're late," he said, flatly.

Dessie's disgruntled expression told Catherine he wasn't in a good mood, but she didn't care, considering she wasn't cheery either. She figured his meeting with the chief of staff from the Continuity army hadn't gone well, though she didn't think it was fair he was taking his frustrations out on her.

"That's because I was wrestlin' two wee boys who are tired out of their minds for twenty goddamn minutes."

Dessie ignored Catherine as he held Sean and closed the car door. She bit her tongue as she helped Eamonn jump out.

They were all tired, which was exactly the reason Catherine wanted to wait until the morning. If they sat down and tried to have a discussion now, it would only end up in a screaming match as it had last night. They needed time to catch their breaths.

"Take 'em upstairs, yeah?" Dessie handed Sean off to Connor. "We shouldn't be too long."

Catherine could feel her irritation bubbling as she watched Connor herd Eamonn inside. She looked over at Dessie as he lit a cigarette.

"There better be a goddamn good reason why you're bein' such an arse right now."

Dessie blew out a cloud of smoke, only saying, "I'll meet you in the office; Kieran's already in there. Can you get me a whiskey?"

Jamming her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt, Catherine walked up the porch steps. Over her shoulder, she shot back, "Get your own fuckin' whiskey."

Once the house, Catherine dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and made her way into Dessie's office. Sure enough, she found Kieran sitting in the leather armchair. As soon as he saw her, he jumped up to offer her the seat. He leaned against the wall as they waited in silence for Dessie.

After what was said last night, she wasn't eager to speak to Kieran so she didn't ask him what this was all about. By the way he had his arms crossed over his chest accompanied with his thousand-yard stare, Catherine guessed he didn't have much to say to her either.

When Dessie finally came strolling in, a glass of whiskey in hand, he closed the door and took a seat behind his desk.

"Care to explain why ya dragged me here so late?"

Drowning the whiskey in one pull, he cleared his throat.

"How are ya feelin' as adjutant?" asked Dessie.

Catherine eyed him suspiciously, unsure how to interpret it. He wouldn't be asking unless he felt she wasn't handling it well. Glancing up at Kieran, she wondered who was really wanting to know – him or Dessie.

"Brilliant. I've been doin' this for a lot of years, Dess, I know how to do my job."

"I'm not sayin' you don't. I just wanna be sure you're not gettin' overwhelmed. Two boys at home, another on the way, no ones gonna blame ya if you start gettin' a wee distracted."

Dessie was kicking himself for not coming into this with a plan of action. He figured he'd know exactly what to say once Catherine was sitting in front of him, but having Kieran there was putting him on edge. Confliction consumed him. He didn't want to be a dick towards her, but he also didn't want to be accused of giving her special treatment. He already felt terrible for being short with her earlier as his nerves were fried. No way could he tell her he was emotionally exhausted from having been piled on for the last two hours, his men demanding change.

"Do you think I'm distracted?"

Kieran jumped in, "That's not what he's sayin', either, he' just-"

"Shut your gob, Kieran," Catherine snapped. "I didn't bloody ask you. Do you think I'm distracted, Dessie?"

Dessie scratched at the stubble coming in along his cheek, careful not to irritate the still tender stitches. Although at this point, ripping the stitches out with his bare hands would probably be less painful than this conversation.

He wanted to just get it over with.

"Once you have the baby, I do think you'll be distracted. But it's not just about that. There's…concern that maybe your objectives for Óglaigh na hÉireann aren't in line with the rest of the lads."

"I'm confused. Is our objective not to unite Ireland by forcin' the end of British sovereignty in Northern Ireland through military strategy?"

Dessie stammered, "No – no, it is,"

"What's the bloody issue then?"

When Dessie peered up at Kieran, he could tell Dessie was close to losing to his nerve. He didn't have it in him to take the position away from Catherine, because he's wanted nothing more than to make her happy. Kieran lost a bit of respect for his chief of staff when he realized he needed to be the one to step up and lay it out plainly for her.

"None of us think your priority is the cause. All you care about is movin' the smokes and sellin' guns."

Catherine's attention turned away from Dessie and to Kieran. "My priority is movin' smokes and sellin' guns so the cause has financial backin'!"

"Then why are ya so against makin' the split of ONH from the True army public?" asked Dessie. "You're keepin' us from bein' operational and we're losin' valuable time."

"So that's what you think this about, huh? I'm not itchin' to bring back Na Trioblóidí so that means I don't believe in the objectives of the Irish Republican Army."

Dessie nodded. "Aye. We need an adjutant who falls in line with our views."

"This isn't the 1970's, Dessie! There's no reason to be destroyin' our home and terrorizin' our people when the Brits aren't even on the streets anymore!"

"They're still here!" Dessie shot up. The rise of voice and hardening of his tone started Catherine. "Until we're thirty-two counties, the IRA will do what it has to. If you don't believe in that, you're free to leave. But either way, I can't have you underminin' our objectives so effective immediately, Kieran will takin' over as adjutant, and I'm bringin' in another lad to take over operations."

Catherine recoiled as if she had been slapped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. There was no way of really understanding why her blood was boiling as rapidly as it was. When she was chosen for the job in the first place, she hadn't even really wanted it, and she planned on stepping down after giving birth anyway. It wasn't so much being reassigned that upset her, it was Dessie standing there, telling her she didn't care about the cause when she sacrificed a fruitful future for it.

Dipping her head, Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't going to cry. No way. Especially not in front of Kieran, who she knew had gotten into Dessie's ear.

It wasn't the money Catherine worried about losing from the ONH spit. She knew where Dessie's mind was. Like Darragh, he romanticized the past and she worried he would drag them back into the dark ages.

If this is the direction Dessie planned to go, she didn't want anything to do with it.

Standing up, she walked to the door and placed her hand on the handle. "Then please consider this my formal resignation from Óglaigh na hÉireann."

"Catherine!" Dessie called out as she walked out the door. "Don't be a brat!"

Closing the door behind her, Catherine wiped away her tears and bolted right for the kitchen. From her purse, she grabbed the copy of the court-martial summons, and letter Fiona had given her.

If he was going to blindside her, then she didn't see the point in returning the favor.

Without thinking, Catherine tore the pages to shreds.