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addictivedame · 8 years ago

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#Devotion @SoulfulPatriot||

You can’t be with a man like my Aedan and not expect there to be blood on his clothes once in awhile. That just goes with the territory. All I could do was pray that it would be someone else’s and not his own.

Me and Aedan, seems like we’ve always been together. I remember him asking me to be his girl when we were too young to really understand what it meant. The nuns caught us kissing behind the playground steps and didn’t they tan us both. I can still feel the slap of the wooden ruler on my knuckles. Now, of course, I’d hit back, but then I was too scared of what my ma would say. Aedan had kissed them later on our way home from school and promised me he’d make them pay for what they’d done. It was sweet, really, though I hadn’t believed he would be so brave. Not until later that week when Sister Nancy opened her desk drawer and started caterwauling like the end of the world had come. He’d put rat traps under her pens, and when she went reaching for one….SNAP. I swear, I did my best not to laugh out loud at her pain. That day, I swore to myself I’d marry that boy when I was older, and my opinion on the subject never wavered.

That is loyalty. Aedan always knew what the word meant, and he showed it to me every day. That’s why no matter what trouble he gets himself into, I’m going to be there with him, helping him, giving that loyalty right back. Devil take anyone who tries to stand in our way.

He asked me once if I wanted to stay here, and honestly, I laughed out loud, right in his face at the very idea. “You remember when they sent the nuns and priests to come talk to us about our callings, and they said how God had callings for all of us? Some to serve God in a bloody convent, or some rubbish like that. And they showed us that movie about the missionaries going out to convert the heathen in some godforsaken place or other. After, they asked us all to write down what we felt our calling was. You know what I wrote? I said ‘I believe the Lord can call me to a better place.’ And that’s still how I feel. Staying here means eventually we’ll just rot or die young, same as everybody else. I don’t mean to die here in Belfast, darlin’. There’s a better place out there for us. And we’re gonna find it, you and me.”

I trusted him to get us there. I’d put all my hope in him. Aedan was going to get us both away from this hellhole or die trying. Of course it wouldn’t be easy. I’d have to be daft to think otherwise. But I’d wash blood out of his clothes as often as he needed so long as he was still breathing.

Did I like him being in danger? Hell no. And I wouldn’t mince words about it either. But if it meant we were on our way to someplace better, you bet your ass I’d do whatever it took to help him succeed.

When that bastard Torrian brought him in through the door, my strong man hanging limp and tracking blood onto the carpet, though, I left my cigarette to burn out in the ashtray, leaping up from my seat and giving Torrian an earful about the shape he was in as he half dragged, half carried him to the bedroom.

My voice was harsh, but it had to be. If I let myself be soft, even for a moment, I couldn’t do what I needed to. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what the fuck happened? No, don’t tell me. You tell that asshole MacCartan he can find someone else to be a bloody martyr for the cause, why don’t you? Jesus. Look at this mess.”

My hands were shaking, but I wasn’t going to be some little princess about it. I knew there was no going to hospital. That would mean questions that would be bad for everyone. Questions that would send Aedan away. Whatever he’d done, whatever the consequences, I was going to have to fix it as well as I could and hope for the best.

As Torrian laid him down on the bed, I took stock of what I saw. Holy Mary, mother of God, he looked like hell. He was pale, like I’d never seen him, the color of newsprint paper. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered. “I swear to God Almighty, Aedan, if the man who done this to you is still out there walking, so help me, I’m going to cut off his balls and cook them up for Sunday dinner.”

Blood was seeping through his fingers, the hand clutching his gut. Nor was that the only place where he was bleeding. His knee looked like it had been through a meat grinder. This was beyond a simple stitching up.

I brushed a hand along his forehead, my voice turning soft and tender. “Oh Aedan, what did they do to you, my darlin’?”

Torrian tried to give me some reassurance. The man responsible was dealt with. I rounded on him, my eyes like a storm. “You make it right. You hear me? I don’t care what you have to do, you get him a doctor and you make this right. You get someone here, and you do it now, or I swear to Christ, I’ll call for an ambulance myself. You get on that bloody phone and you call whoever you have to.”

He cursed me, but he did it. Something in my face must have convinced him he had better do as he was told, because I heard him talking to someone from the other room, his voice low but urgent.

All the while, I had turned to Aedan again. He looked like someone who expected to die, and it shook me to the core. “Don’t you leave me, Aedan. Don’t you dare. I’ll follow you down to hell and drag your sorry ass back here if I have to, but you’re not leaving me.”

His breath was so shallow, it terrified me, and he didn’t speak, but he looked at me and in spite of his pain, he smiled and squeezed my hand, nodding his understanding.

Five minutes later, as I was tying a towel around Aedan’s knee, a woman was rushed into the room with Torrian behind her. My fingers were covered in blood, and there wasn’t time to be polite. “Save him,” I said simply, pushing back my hair from my forehead with the back of my hand. “I don’t care how you do it. Just do it.”

With a brusque manner, she got to work, ordering Torrian and me around for more light, hot water, having us hold him still while she cut his clothes so she could see the extent of his injuries. She didn’t ask about the circumstances of how this had happened. She only asked for the facts. How many bullets? What had caused the cut his his belly? How long had he been bleeding like this? Questions that helped her assess the damage, but skirted around the incriminating details that didn’t change anything or help her fix him.

She gave him a shot of something. I didn’t ask what it was, but his expression relaxed and he mumbled something as his eyes closed, and in moments he was unconscious. It was too close to death for my comfort, though I didn’t like seeing him in pain either.

Next thing I knew, she was doing surgery on him, right there in our bedroom. As though she did this sort of thing every day. She acted almost mechanically, detached and serious, barking orders. I watched on, incredulous, as she assessed the damage to his belly – “Just missed his intestines. He’s a lucky man. If it had cut a few centimeters over, you’d have a priest here instead of me.” – and sewed him up. Then she set to work on his knee. The bullet had gone straight through, she said, though the bone was fractured into several pieces.

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “Can’t guarantee he won’t always have a limp, though.”

It felt like hours we stood there watching her work. I couldn’t look at the wounds. I kept my gaze focused on her hands instead, watching them clean and dress the injuries, sewing together damaged flesh as best she could. He was going to have nasty scars, no doubt about it, but that was a small price to pay if he would only live.

She set the bones and wrapped his leg in plaster, and she set up an IV for fluids while she worked, making Torrian hold the bag up until it had dripped through completely.

At last it was done, and she stepped back, disconnecting the IV, then peeling gloves from her hands and tossing them into the trash. She handed me a bottle of pain pills and another with antibiotics, giving me instructions for his care. I nodded, and only as she was packing up her things did I look down to read the labels on the bottles.

“Veterinarian?” My mouth dropped open, and I laughed in spite of all that had happened. “You’re a veterinarian?”

“You wanted someone who wouldn’t ask questions. You got me. You got a problem with that, take it up with your boyfriend’s boss.” She snapped together the bag she had carried in with her, turning matter of factly to leave.

I hurried over to catch her arm, turning her to face me, my expression full of worry. “Wait. What’s your name? What do I do if he doesn’t...you know...if he gets worse?”

“Call a priest. I’ve done the best I can here. I won’t lie to you. It’s serious. But he’s strong. You do like I told you, he ought to pull through. As for my name, you don’t get it. I don’t want to know yours or his either. Forget you saw me. This was a one time deal. I won’t be doing it again. Good luck.”

With that, she looked at Torrian and scowled. “Don’t call me again. This is the last time. I’m done.”

He followed her to the door and locked it behind her, then came back, standing uselessly in the doorway as I got into the other side of the bed and took Aedan’s hand.

“What can I do?” he asked. “Can I bring you anything?”

“Get out,” I said coolly. “And don’t come back unless I call you. I don’t want to see your fucking face.”

I didn’t turn to see him go. I was watching over my man, kissing his fingers as he slept. I stayed there – whispering to him, telling him I loved him, my lips brushing his forehead, my fingers caressing his hair – until I fell asleep at last by his side.

#Devotion #SoulfulPatriot

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addictivedame · 8 years ago

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Malefactor

Undisclosed Location, Belfast 00.54

Glancing down at my watch, I saw that the first full hour of the day was going to arrive and I was stuck watching out for several crates of weapons.

Knowing the organisations that required such gifts to be brought in under the dawn light, I was going to enjoy the multitude of ‘toys’ that would be hidden under God knows what but I would be kneeling at the altar for forgiveness for the crimes I was yet to commit.

Teagan? Well, she was going to kill me for this situation I had gotten myself into.. All because I owed a man I despised and that meant I had to pay him back thanks to him attempting to save my ass in the wake of MacCartan’s ‘attempts’ to keep me safe when serving with many of those who would enjoy seeing me hangin’ care of a bed sheet and a helping hand to lift me into my final resting place before being lain in God’s green earth with my Grandparents and brothers. I had no desire for death even at my own hands. She’d likely crush my bollocks between her bare hands by the time she was finished with me.. and add to the situation that I was in the small matter of being in contact with someone Teagan would hate immediately.

Girls after all, were more territorial than most armies and opposing groups such as SAMBEL or SAMCRO itself. And my old lady was no exception to that rule, and her temper was one to be worthy of. Groaning softly as a gloved hand slid over my face to remove the remnants of sleep from tired eyes and quirked a brow as the rumble of an engine broke the quiet of the early morning. I was in shit street well and truly because the fucking arsehole, MacCartan had set me up.

“Driver and one fucking guy to dump the load - I hadn’t believed the bastard but here I am with my arm twisted behind my back because MacCartan only wanted me involved. Sweet Virgin Mary and all the Saints; I survive this it’ll be a miracle. Best be decent things in them there crates though so that I can blow their bleedin’ brains out.”

Granny Ó Huigin had warned me about talking to myself when stressed but here I was berating not only myself but the slimy git who had set me up.

Judging by the size of the truck as it pulled up into the shadows of the old dock land; there had been a good arrangement with friends of the Republican Army who still existed in the shadows of the country. Checking my pockets for the small arsenal I had been given, I sent a silent prayer to Saint Jude, the patron Saint of Lost Souls to hope he was looking over me now. After all; I wanted to marry Teagan Fitzpatrick and being alive would be a key point to do so. Both the driver and faceless companion were counting the crates and there was a murmur of familiar terms.

‘Browning, Taurus, Glock and Beretta..’ amongst others and I had a feeling that those over in Charming would welcome the opportunity to sell these toys onto whomever reached the highest bid. Handguns were at a premium as of late thanks to the current adversity throughout the world between countries who had formerly worked together. Groups within Libya and those in Norn Ireland for example had had great working relationships during the early 1970s or so my Da’ had told me when reminiscing over his antics with SAMBEL and the IRA.

What MacCartan hadn’t prevented me from doing however, was bringing in assistance and the soft vibration of my phone drew my attention to the one word message.

‘HERE.’

Smirking slowly, I nodded despite knowing my companion would be none the wiser to my acknowledgment of his message. He was hidden across the way and to my right - behind the two unsuspecting individuals and that would be the reason I would get out of here alive and go home..

01.20. Time to move forward and get the damn van out of here - I had an upper hand that was unknown by the two men who had disappeared from view and MacCartan himself.

I had a copy of the key hidden in my pocket after a swift snatch and grab only three hours before. - Clearly, MacCartan didn’t exactly realise that I wasn’t fresh out of nappies when it came to getting myself out of trouble. As Torrian stepped out from the shadows and into the darkened office room of the old and long abandoned warehouse. Hell, it looked as though no one had been here since the fifties given the accumulation of dust, dirt along with decommissioned washing machines and busted bedframes. Dumping grounds such as this were commonplace now and why Teagan was tired of living around those who didn’t care about others. Dragging my mind from the Missus, I stalked the edges of the woodland and wove my way through the shadows towards the quiet office. There couldn’t be any survivors of this little reclamation of goods and time was of the essence.

Drawing out my Glock G19 from the back of my jeans, I tugged my hoodie firmly over my curls and slid into the building following Torrian as he caught the driver of the truck as he stepped out from the small lavvy. His relaxed demeanour disappearing the moment he found himself on the business end of the weapon my cohort had brought with him. I’d known Torrian since school, we’d played footy down by the abandoned flats on our estate every Saturday whilst planning just how we could escape the job line and disappointment in our Mams’ eyes and the drunken blows of the men in our lives. London had been the first thought when we were thirteen and still relatively naive - although both of us had served time for petty crime and beating the snot out of Dermot Sutthery for reminding us both that our Da’s weren’t around. I’d only survived that round of lock up because someone there knew my Da’s reputation and that he had links with the Sons.

Torrian Kavanagh meant business and with a grunt; the grey-haired man he’d guided to the stone floor was cursing us both to Hell itself. Daft bastard didn’t realise this shithole we lived in was Hell to us anyway and the fiery pits would be at least warmer. Mind you if the Kray twins were anything to go by; as long as we looked out for family our seats in the Devil’s playground may not be filled.

Family comes first after all.

“Best do as he says y’know. My mate here likes to see how far brains fly when he blows ‘em up.”

Kicking him in the gut, I welcomed the crack of his ribs to my boots and each guttural groaning profanity directed at me only spurred me on. My laughter was quiet but the joy at how easy things were going resonated in my every peel of amusement. I’d be home where I belonged within the hour and the guns would be hidden away in a cell only I knew about - I’d convinced Torrian to allow me to blindfold him and cover his ears when we took the van so that he couldn’t answer anyone if caught and interrogated. He simply wouldn’t have a clue where we were because he would be so disoriented. I had few morals left to hold onto, and the Padre was despairing at how far I was slipping when I came for confession every Sunday and sometimes after Midnight Mass. But I held onto my wish to protect family - and after so long; Torrian was family.

Driving my fist upwards into the driver’s jaw I murmured that MacCartan sent his regards - no one had told me I couldn’t let it be known who had dragged me into this.. and I wanted the slimy piece of shit to be hunted for a while by both sides for his ability to take from Peter to pay Paul. The satisfying cracks of his jaw breaking apart and teeth fracturing out of their sockets should have been pleasing to twisted sense of humour; but it went unheard. The resounding ricochet of a bullet being fired from a gun at close quarters as I let out a scream of utter agony. The close-range gunshot had blasted my knee joint apart, shattering bones and tearing the delicate muscle and ligaments apart had me stumble and grab onto the broken rim of the desk to my left. I was in serious danger of losing any ability to run and I bloody knew it given the fact my leg from the knee down was soaked in blood and I could smell the burning residue of where the bullet had ripped through the muscle leaving my right leg look like a Halloween prop.

“Jesus Christ! You fucking bastard - you just couldn’t leave well alone could you!”

Call it anything you want but out of the agony I found the strength to force myself upright and pistol whipped the driver to the floor. One look at Torrian and the silent conversation had us back on the right page - get the truck and it’s contents away from here. We just had to get my blood out of here too so that Her Majesty’s loyal foot soldiers in blue wouldn’t come a-knocking for me.

Grinding my teeth, I managed albeit without clue as to how? To grab the shooter in a tight grasp of my left hand around his throat enabling to force the cocky bastard against a broken window. (I couldn’t help but hope, that the glass would slice through his spine and do us all a favour but luck was the good and the true and I was decidedly not either - despite what Teagan said)

“You’re going to really piss my girl off if I’m using a damn cane or worse a prosthetic in our wedding. I haven’t even fucking asked her and this bollocks may mean I can’t kneel.”

Shoving him back once more, I forced the Glock into his face, pushing my finger down slowly to remind the punk ass that I was in control and not him. The sound of the gun preparing to release the bullet into his skull was deafening - it would be bloody and it would mean that I was recrossing lines I had hoped never to do it again.

I didn’t want to be Aedan Adams, killer.

What I wanted to be.. was Aedan Adams, free man in either my home country or wherever I had to ride to to be that soul again. Though I was pretty sure I sold that along time ago to SAMBEL just to be able to keep everyone safe.

“Ah fuck you Adams, and yeah? I know exactly who the fuck you are you little punk so if needs be, I’ll be there at your wedding to blow your brains out and that made your sweet lady blow me.”

Before I could even blow his brains into next week, the bastard had driven the remains of the window pane into my gut, the shards disappearing from sight as I began to choke. Torrian was behind me, his arm slipping around my waist to pull me upright and against his body. I couldn’t breathe; couldn’t speak as blood clogged up by body spilling over parted lips.

I had to get home; had to get back to Teagan and get these fucking guns gone.

A single gunshot rang out, the shout of alarm and fear silenced only as the man fell forward onto my body only further forcing the glass shards into my chest.

“Check his pockets Tor, bet he’s got some details on what we’re gifting those lads in Charming.”

I shouldn’t have spoken, the actions I had did had me fighting for oxygen. Lifted up in his arms, I fell back onto the floor barely able to see what was happening as Torrian struggled to get me away from the blood. Fuck we were in the shit if we couldn’t clean up my blood and a stretch at Her Majesty’s Pleasure didn’t appeal an iota.

The last thing I expected was laughter from my companion as he knelt at my side and showed me the goodies.

“We’ve got ourselves several cases of 9mm handguns, some Browning, Taurus, Glock and Beretta handguns.

Then there’s four cases of AK-47 Kalashnikov and AKM assault rifles some MP5 submachine guns even a couple of RPG-7 anti-tank rocket launchers and two crates of Soviet made DShK heavy machine guns.

Add to it some Military grade flamethrowers and Semtex plastic explosive and I reckon Charming’s going to get interesting. Not that I take it; I’m allowed to come right Aedan?”

I couldn’t do much as he spoke but stare and feel my eyes widen in amazement of the list he was reeling off.. Torrian had decrypted enough details for me to have me reassured he meant every word he said; and I felt a brief moment of regret that my best friend was remaining here whilst Teagan and I went Stateside to gain protection from the original Sons.

“Now, let’s get your DNA gone shall we?”

Nodding slowly, I was lifted up and wrapped in disused sacks from the warehouse to limit the trail of blood from spreading; and placed safely into the backseat of the unmarked boring looking Ford Transit van that belonged to a local painter and decorator turned alcoholic who owed me. Blessed relief came as I lay still, my mind on getting the fuck out of dodge.. I would have Teagan contact Charming - a swift email of the how you doin’ variety that would ensure Scarlet knew we were on our way soon and that I was sending a small gift on ahead of me. There was enough ways to get everything gone without raising suspicion - I just had to have my girl play Doctor on my mauled body first…

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