Three men sat on the porch of the safe house. Cigarettes were lazily clenched between their cut, sanguine, burned, blackened fingers. None of their faces showed an ounce of emotion.

Unscathed, Patrick plopped down with them to wait for Catherine. When her SUV came up the gravel drive, she jumped out before it even came to a halt. He stood up to run interference. The last thing he wanted was her walking into the bloody and helter-skelter situation unfolding in the kitchen unprepared.

As if it were possible to prepare Catherine for what she was about to see.

"What happened?!" she demanded. "Is he okay? Where is he?"

Hopping off the second to last step on the porch, Patrick quickly grabbed her shoulders to keep Catherine from moving forward. He could feel her trembling. Her eyes filled with a fear he never saw from her before. While she may have appeared calm on the outside, Patrick safely assumed she was unraveling within.

"It was a pipe bomb," he said bluntly.

Fat, searing tears bubbled in Catherine's eyes. She sank her nails into Patrick's chest, swaying unsteadily. "I can't do this again, Da!"

Catherine collapsing against him, Patrick realized in retrospect, he should have led off with the good news.

"He's alive - don't be gettin' too far ahead of yourself."

Lifting her head off his chest, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "He is?"

"Aye. He's in pretty bad shape, Catherine. In a lot of pain and he's havin' a hard time breathing."

Hearing the door of Catherine's SUV close, Patrick looked over her head apathetically to see Jimmy lighting a cigarette. All he could do was stay calm, wondering how in the hell to process his relief to see the bastard standing there.

"Tommy over there better remember his SAS training." Patrick pointed to Jimmy. "We think Dessie may have a collapsed lung, and with McVeigh workin' tonight none of us have the slightest clue on how to help him."

Without another word, Catherine turned around. She made a mad dash towards Jimmy. Patrick could see her mouth moving but he couldn't make out a word she said. He watched as Jimmy took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it to the ground.

Running ahead of Catherine, Jimmy passed by Patrick and the other men, taking the steps two at a time.

As soon as he entered the safe house, Jimmy shuttered. The air was heavy, smelling sickly metallic. Dessie's agonizing cries reverberated off the walls.

It was utter chaos. That was the only way he could sum the kitchen when he finally made it in there. It reminded him of the complete disarray the barracks would be in when the Provisionals ambushed units while they patrolled in south Armagh.

His vision fish-bowled. The yelling voices around him muffled; their words becoming incomprehensible.

Those who hadn't been at ground zero were stained with the blood of their comrades as they kept the pressure on oozing wounds. They pulled shards of metal and rusty nails out of limbs. The nauseating stench of scorched flesh assaulted Jimmy's nose as the men were quick to cauterize with a clothes iron they heated over the open flame on the stove.

Kieran caught Jimmy's attention first. Blood ran down his arm from the gaping hole where his pinky finger used to be. Then he saw the charred, blistering burn on the side of Mickey Ryan's neck. Tiny glittering pieces of metal were embedded in the raw wound.

Sprawled out helplessly on the table was Dessie. Withering in torturous pain, his t-shirt and jeans had been cut off of him, the garments lying on the floor in a forgotten heap. Jack, Aidan, and Connor shouted over one another holding blood-soaked rags to the lesions scattered across his body.

Jimmy winced when he noticed the small pile of nails which had been plucked from Dessie's chest, arms, and legs.

Time almost ceased to exist as Dessie turned his head towards Jimmy, though his attention fell upon something other than him. Dessie's bloated eyes were bright red, tears streaming and mixing with the smeared blood on his cheeks.

"Catherine," he cried, holding out his shaking, burned hand. "Oh, God, Catherine!"

Jimmy stumbled as Catherine pushed passed him. She didn't waste another second, rushing to Dessie's side and tightly grabbing hold of his hand. Over and over she kissed his knuckles, not caring her mouth was now stained with his blood.

"I'm right here," she crooned, sitting on the edge of the table. She ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to help calm him down. "I'm here, Dessie, just focus on me."

Jimmy noticed how only one side of Dessie's chest rose and fell with every shallow breath he took. He'd seen it too many times in combat to not know what it meant.

He shoved his personal feelings aside. Hearing the beastly howls, suddenly it wasn't Dessie - Catherine's husband, the father of her youngest son - lying there dying. It was wee Dessie, the seventeen-year-old boy he so long ago took under his wing.

"Broderick!" yelled Jimmy. "Don't fuckin' touch that!"

Shell shocked to see Jimmy, Connor uncurled his fingers from the large scrap of metal piping which was lodged under Dessie's ribcage.

The room fell silent as Jimmy approached the table. He rolled up the sleeves of his cashmere sweater, placing two warm fingers to the artery in Dessie's neck.

"Please tell me youse at least have a basic jump bag."

"Aye," Jack replied, grabbing it off the counter and tossing it to Jimmy. "Of course we do."

Rummaging through the bright orange bag to take a quick inventory of the equipment they had, he was shocked. They had Morphine auto-injectors; catheters, tubing, and saline solution bags for IVs. Forceps, suture, and chest decompression kits, bags full of sterile gauze and trauma dressings.

All he could do was shake his head. They had top of the line equipment, yet here they were controlling bleeding with dirty rags and closing wounds with a hot iron.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

Tearing into the packages of combat gauze with his teeth, Jimmy handed it over to Jack and Aidan with instructions on how to stop the bleeding of Dessie's open shrapnel wounds, along with Kieran's hand.

"An accidental detonation. Really? I thought I taught ya better than that," Jimmy taunted.

"Fuck you," Dessie groaned, stopping to cough, "it wasn't my goddamn fault. You gotta get this fuckin' thing outta me! Holy fuck does it hurt!"

To confirm his suspicions, Jimmy placed his hands on Dessie's chest. "Take a deep breath."

Dessie tried to take a full breath, but the pain in his chest stopped him short. Not wanting to scare Catherine, Jimmy kept his reservations under lock and key. Only his right hand rose and fell.

"Before I can even think about takin' out this piece of metal, I have to get the air outta your chest. Your lung is collapsed; that's why it hurts and why you can't take a full breath."

Dessie began to squirm, growing more agitated. The last time he saw one of the lads have a collapsed lung, it was fixed with a boning knife and cocktail straw.

"Nuh-uh," Dessie bellowed. "No fuckin' way are you cuttin' into me."

Jimmy held up the decompression needle. "I don't have to cut you. Just pop the needle in; I'll be done in two minutes."

Dessie vigorously shook his head. "I don't give a shite how simple it is, you're not doin' it! Have Catherine do it."

Jimmy held out the needle to her.

"I'm not doin' it," she said. "I've never done this in my life. If I push too deep, I'll end up killin' ya!"

"Then take me to hospital, they'll do it there."

Propping up onto his elbows, Dessie tried to get up. Everyone jumped to keep him still, afraid the slightest movement of the shard in his abdomen would have catastrophic consequences. With Dessie unwilling to break on his decision not to allow Jimmy to decompress his chest, they all started yelling over each other on what they should do.

The hospital was out of the equation for Catherine, Connor, and Kieran. If they checked Dessie in, it wouldn't take long for hospital staff, the PSNI and Gardai to connect his injuries to the blast site.

"Quit bein' an eejit," Connor scolded. "Jimmy doin' it is a far better choice than you wakin' up, cuffed, in some hospital bed."

"I don't care! I don't want this piece of shite to even be here!"

Connor couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was ready to slap sense into Dessie.

"Are you even listenin' to yourself right now? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

"Leave him the fuck alone, Broderick!" yelled Jack. "He's really hurt; we'd be stupid not to take him in."

Patrick stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed the chaos. On the one hand, he completely sympathized with Dessie's plight. If he were the one lying on the table, Patrick wouldn't let Jimmy within a ten-foot range either. Then, on the other hand, he couldn't disagree with Connor that Dessie was acting like an idiot.

The reality of the situation was that there was only one person in that room who had Patrick's best interest. He'd be damned if he watched Catherine go through the emotional trauma of burying another love. Nor did he want to see her fall into the footsteps of Olivia - schlepping three kids to Maghaberry to see their father for an hour, twice a month.

Watching them fight like children and getting nowhere near a solution, Patrick realized it was his turn to step in.

"Would you lot shut your fuckin' gobs for two seconds?" he roared.

Hearing her father raise his voice, Catherine instantly stopped talking, as did the rest of the guys. Patrick scanned the room with sheer disappointment gleaming in his eyes. They all felt this odd sense of shame.

Catherine let go of Dessie's hand and slunk back from the table when Patrick approached.

"Desmond, listen here, lad," Patrick lightly slapped Dessie's cheek to garner his attention. "I get it, you don't want Jimmy here. After what he did to you, no one blames ya for feelin' that way. But you've three options, mate. You can let Jimmy do his thing and have this be over and done with. Or we can take you to hospital where you can guarantee you'll be arrested, and spend the next thirty-some-odd-years seein' Catherine and Danny when they come visit you in prison. Or you can just say goodbye to Catherine now because the longer you drag this out, it will kill ya. You gotta man up and figure out what kinda life you want for your wife and son."

He didn't like any of the choices his father-in-law laid out for him.

Looking passed Patrick to Catherine, Dessie pursed his chapped, bluish lips. A shiver ran down her spine, not taking kindly to the amount of animosity in his eyes.

For the first time in the decade they've known each other, Dessie never loathed Catherine as much as he did right now. Who the fuck did she think she is? Bringing Jimmy here when she knew damn well he wasn't welcome in their lives. She made Dessie feel cornered with Jimmy for the second time. Like he had no other option but to work with the one man he never wanted to see for the rest of his life.

None of it made any sense to him. Why all of a sudden she was so willing to make business deals with Jimmy, and her turning to him in times of crisis. Her brother's a Son, Dessie reminded himself. SAMBEL's vice president had more medical training than Jimmy. They'd jump on the chance to be owed a favor by the IRA.

As much as he currently hated his wife, Dessie hated the prospect of prison or death even more. Patrick was right; he did need to man up. Though this would be the absolute final time he swallowed his pride for Jimmy O'Phelan.

"Fine. Let's get this fuckin' over with," Dessie said, easing back down. He threw a hostile glance in Catherine's direction, his order directed to Mickey. "Get her outta here."

When Mickey grabbed her upper arm to force her out of the kitchen, Catherine jerked from his weak grasp. "I'm not leavin'! I'm stayin' here with you!"

"Catherine, get out of here, now," Jimmy roughly chide. The last thing he needed was her presence making Dessie more agitated than he already was.

"Hey!" Dessie barked, grabbing the collar of Jimmy's sweater. "Don't you fuckin' talk to her like that!"

Jimmy buried his boiling irritation. Can't win them all, he supposed.

Catherine tried reaching for Dessie's hand, but Patrick stepped in and blocked her. He put one hand on her chest, pushing her back.

"Ya do as you're bloody told," Patrick cruelly reminded her. "You've done enough; get lost."

Peeking around her father, Catherine gazed at Dessie. It was a dagger to the heart when he wouldn't even look at her. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her zip-up sweatshirt, Catherine gave Patrick a single nod. She meekly stepped back and to the front door so she could get some fresh air.

At least she'd have time to think about how she'd make things right between her and Dessie.


Sitting outside gazing at the stars, Catherine lost track of time. Pulling her knees into her chest, she lit a cigarette. Several times she thought about marching inside and telling Dessie to suck it up and deal with her being in the kitchen with him. She was going crazy with every scenario running through her increasingly wild imagination. The only thing keeping her somewhat sane at this point was the hope the lads would at least come to fetch her if anything god-forbid went wrong.

Deep in her belly, the fluttering butterflies went into overdrive when she heard the front door open and close behind her. She didn't look back - having a feeling it was Patrick - though Catherine was taken by surprise when Jimmy took a seat on the steps beside her. Saying not a single word, Jimmy reached over and plucked the burning Marlboro from her fingers. He took a long drag, the nicotine buzz well welcomed after the stressful night he had.

Catherine was crawling out of her skin. She couldn't take the melancholy quiet.

"How is he?"

"Alive," he said, passing the cigarette back to her. "Managed to decompress his chest with no problems, but I had a hard time stoppin' all the bleeding since he's such a heavy smoker. The nasty wound on his abdomen…you're gonna wanna keep an eye on it. I had no choice but to cauterize it. He's sleepin' because of all the pain killers and antibiotics I pumped him full of."

Flicking the cigarette into the grass, Catherine ran her fingers through her hair. She rested her forehead in her hands, trying to digest everything that happened in the last handful of hours. As badly as she wanted to shake Dessie awake to say "I told you so," now wasn't the time. She'd have her chance in the future to remind him of how he should have listened to her when she said returning to the days of unsteady homemade pipe bombs wasn't his brightest idea.

"And Kieran? The poor lad."

"He's fine, just minus a wee finger. I'll probably stick around for the night just in case things go south."

Catherine smirked at him, unsure if she believed that was the reason Jimmy wanted to stay the night in Dundalk.

"And your decision had nothin' to do with wanting to spend more time with me?"

"Wow," Jimmy exclaimed. "Aren't you full of yourself? Not that I owe you a goddamn explanation, but me wanting to stay has absolutely nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Dessie. Youse are useless without a medic; I need him to stay alive. If he dies…I lose the AKs. No way Kieran would ever let me have 'em."

Reaching into the pocket of her sweatshirt for the pack of cigarettes, she lit another.

"And here I thought it was because you had a wee heart underneath your tough exterior," she teased.

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off. Jimmy took the cigarette from her again. "You better quit. This shite'll kill ya."

"Bold of you to assume the Kings, peelers, or my own goddamn explosives won't kill me first."

"I'd never let the Kings touch you, a chuisle. You can count on that."

For some reason, hearing Jimmy say that brought calm to the anxious storm which has been ravaging her brain ever since they made the nasty split from the True army. It was comforting to know she still had him in her corner even after the hell they've put each other through.

She patted his knee. "I appreciate that. I really do. And thanks for helpin' Dessie. I know youse despise each other and you easily could've just let him die. It means a lot."

"I did it for you," he said, then blew smoke rings into the air. "He makes you happy and all I want is for you to be happy."

It wasn't seeing Dessie lying on the table battered and burned that brought Catherine to tears, it was realizing for the first time perhaps Jimmy really did genuinely care about her. She quickly wiped them from her cheeks, knowing he'd make some sort of jab about her being weak for crying if he saw them. She rested her head on his arm.

Jimmy offered the cigarette back to her and she waved it off, standing up.

"I should go check on him and then head back to Cross and pack some of his clothes. I have a wee feelin' it'll be a minute before he can show his face across the border," she wryly joked. Opening the front door, Catherine glanced over her shoulder to see Jimmy take a drag from the cigarette. "You should quit that nasty habit; that shite'll kill ya."


Jimmy felt slightly uneasy as Catherine juggled her keys to unlock the front door of the home she shared with Dessie. He followed her inside, curiously looking around after she flipped on the lights. By all the new furniture and electronics in the family room, upgraded appliances in the kitchen, he had a feeling ONH was far more profitable than Catherine led him to believe.

"If you wanna hang out down here, I'm gonna head up and pack for Dess," she said.

Jimmy could hear the thick exhaustion in her voice, which was to be expected considering it was well past four in the morning. She didn't say anything else, she just trekked up the stairs to their bedroom. Walking further into the family room, Jimmy heard the plush comfy couch calling his name, but he decided against sitting down out of fear that if he did, he'd fall asleep for the next day and a half.

Instead, a collection of photos on the mantelpiece above the fireplace caught his attention.

He picked up a picture of Eamonn as an infant he'd never seen before. It broke his heart to realize it had been taken on Eamonn's first birthday. The cake and frosting covered boy should have been in his arms, not Darragh's. Jimmy wished he could say that was the only birthday he missed, but the sad fact was he'd been either fighting with Catherine or gone on business for the first four. He was shit at penciling in time for his son, though he tried to make up for the regular absenteeism when they did have the chance to see one another. In the long-run, Jimmy knew those few-and-far-between moments would mean fuck all to Eamonn now that Dessie filled the role of full-time father.

Setting it back down, Jimmy picked up another one of Dessie, Eamonn, and Sean at Slieve Gullion. He desperately wanted to be angry at how happy Eamonn seemed with Dessie. It didn't seem fair to watch his son become so attached to another man. But what else was he supposed to expect when he hadn't bothered to even find out when Eamonn was born? Fiona had been the one to tell him nearly three weeks after.

"He loves you more than you deserve."

Startled, Jimmy nearly dropped the picture frame. Still holding it, he turned around to find Catherine tossing a black duffel bag onto the couch. She closed the space between them, then took the frame from his hands and set it back on the mantel.

"Aye," he breathed, unable to take his eyes off Eamonn's smiling face. "You've done a hell of a good job with him all on your own."

"I would respectfully disagree. How can I be a good mother when I'm…the way I am?"

"Now I know you're exhausted outta your mind because you're talkin' nonsense. You're a brilliant mother, so you are. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Catherine sat down on the coffee table. "Brilliant mothers don't run criminal organizations nor are they constantly arrested."

"Have ya been charged or convicted of anything?"

She shook her head.

"Then it doesn't matter. And even if ya were, it wouldn't matter to those boys because they love you unconditionally."

"Thanks for the pep talk," she chuckled.

Looking at his watch, Jimmy realized they've already spent too much time there. They had to get over the border before the sun broke the horizon. He picked the bag up off the couch, slung the strap over his shoulder, and held out his hand to Catherine.

"We've better get back before they start to think we've run off together."

Slipping her hand into his, she smiled. "I suppose we should."

Taking the keys from her, Jimmy led them outside and locked the door. His back was still turned as she started her descent back to the car.

And that's when hell broke loose.

"Jimmy!"

Her scream pierced the quiet predawn air.

Spinning around so fast, Jimmy nearly tripped over himself. The keys fell from his hand at the same time the bag slipped off his shoulder.

Once reality slapped him in the face, he ran towards the convoy of armored Land Rovers and flashing blue lights.