Consequences weren't the issue. Cath fully understood the risk here. He was more than a bit irrational because Mae was crying. Which wasn't something easily accomplished. And it was like a knife to his heart and made him want to lash out at the person who upset her.
He was her husband, it was his job to protect her. And she'd just shown both of them and the priest how close his last failure to do just that had nearly cost her life. He looked away as she bared the scars for all the bloody world to see, hand clenched in tight fists.
There had already been consequences. And there always would be.
"Mae," he said softly, reaching for her. He didn't know what she was planning, but he knew any decision she made in tears and fear wasn't to be trusted.
Blind him, Ronnie's faith in him, was almost worst than Sean's implied accusations. It was heartening, and at least confirmed that he'd made the proper choice there.
His attention was dragged away at the mention of another criminal on board. "What?" he asked. "I think we already have the killer in custody. Some looney bird attacked a girl. Matt and Pastor Prather brought her in. She wasn't talking, but she's in the holding cell."
And then back to the matter at hand. Sean's question was unreasonable, even if he were trying. "Mate, we were fighting a war for our freedom," he said. "I was fighting that war for nearly thirteen years." Of course, he'd killed people. It was war. Those deaths and nearly losing Mae, haunted his dreams and would for the rest of his life. "But if you're asking since we left Ireland? No, we've had no reason to."
Cath snorted at Sean's explanation. "You have to do what you have to do," he agreed. Of course, he and Mae would as well. "I've lived a double life my entire adult life. People do what they have to to survive. The PIRA has had it out for the RIRA since Omagh. Closeted cells where we didn't even knew who each other really was was how we protected ourselves and our families. If you want to believe everything I've done is just to maintain my cover and lull you into a false sense of trust, there's nothing else I can do to persuade you otherwise." Really, he didn't have to do this. But he had. That should be telling enough.
His sense of humour decided to surface and show itself. "And I can't swim, so that's not really a worry, now is it?" he admitted wryly. Really, dark humour was better than the grim idea that none of them were going to make it out of this alive, or even at all.