An Cat Dubh 19

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AnCatKatie

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There's quite a bit of info from 'U2 by U2' randomly in here. I'm endeavoring to be slightly more accurate, so...

And Gaelic...heheh. Yes, this was definitely going to turn up (L&L, WithoutSpeaking, I blame you and 'Stories for Boys'! You got this idea firmly in my mind—speaking of which, flipping YES! Going to read that other chapter now, yay!)

'An Cath Du' is WELSH, whereas 'AN CAT DUBH' is GAELIC. Ok? Edge is just silly sometimes.

Ali needed some time in here, as did the music shed (oh no), and Edge, of course, is angsting.

Fictional as hell but slightly less burning hot at the moment. I don't know, that might change :sexywink:

***

On the ride back, Edge was uncomfortably squashed into Cath in the backseat; Bono was driving, which was only marginally worse than Edge would be if he was driving now—make no mistake, his bandmate should never be on the road, but Edge wasn’t the happiest at this moment.

To be next to the girl he suddenly could not let go…who was going to have his best friend’s child and was certainly not going to be in any romantic relationship with Edge…it was maddening. He felt hurt and confused, and cheated of what he felt like was responsibility: everything painful and teenage had come rushing in recently, making Edge feel so much younger than he was and the pain that much deeper.

He did notice, however, that Cath did not look exactly happy: yes, she was tired, her eyes closing as she leaned against the window, her hair once again falling in her face, frustrating Edge beyond belief. And that was odd to him; you should be over the moon ecstatic, he thought about Cath right now.

He looked at her, frowned, and said nothing. Bono, in the driver’s seat, swerved suddenly; Edge’s heart rose in his throat and he practically yelled at the other boy. Aside from that one driving problem, the rest was bearable for the moment.

With the cold weather and the various upsets, the band was more comfortable practicing in the shed-turned-studio at Edge’s house. Bono picked Cath up in his arms, feeling again, irrationally, like her bones would break if he tripped, or something along those lines, and Edge swallowed hard, shaking his head and shoving his hands into his pockets against the biting cold.

“Hey, Bono, Edge,” Larry greeted them from just inside; he was taking a break after he and Adam had devolved into a meaningless fight about who was on-time or not. The boy looked cheerful in comparison to how Edge and Bono felt; they just gave him a look of suffering ‘shut up.’

“Hey, Cath,” he amended his previous statement to include, seeing her and looking rather confused. She responded “(something something) Larry”, which must have been a greeting, though it was muffled, with her face against Bono’s chest.

“Where’ve you guys been?” Larry asked Edge, who hung back as Bono deposited the sleepy Cath in Edge’s room, saying something to her quietly that Edge felt was probably private.

He noticed the guitarist looked—well, not tired, but worn out, rubbing a hand against his eye with a very, very unhappy air about him. Edge said something in response summarizing the events of the past few hours, and Larry was silent, not having expected that.

Adam snickered. “Bon got in jail?” It was just such a typical Bono move it was hilarious. He sensed Edge was not in the laughing mood, though the other boy gave a tired smile in response, shuffling into the kitchen and saying hi to his parents, who looked relieved that Edge actually hadn’t been in jail with Bono—you never knew; Edge and his brother had exploded a lot of things in his childhood.

The next few days passed in a sort of blanketed silence, very little changing, and everything, all at once. Cath slept for about two days; they tried not to wake her, though Edge had an odd moment where he left to get water in the middle of tuning his guitar and ended up watching her sleep instead, unable to think but for don’t die don’t die don’t die. Because the seconds were like stones, to Edge and not to Bono, since Edge had been there for all of it—well, most of it. While Bono was scared shitless by the near-miscarriage then relieved by Cath’s recovery, he didn’t have much of a sense of future like Edge did.

Very quietly, so as not to wake her, everything lit in a sort of clarity—he could recall later the exact smoothness of the floorboards beneath his feet, and the dust motes in the light, and the way Cath’s hand pillowed under her head, fingers just peeking out from strands of dark hair—Edge set down the water glass outside his room, crossed over to Cath, and dared to bring his hand to where hers was, pressing very lightly his lips to hers. She did not wake, and when he came back to the shed, the music sliding under his skin with the faint thrilling fear of what he’d done, the others didn’t even give him an odd look.

“So,” Larry said, “this timing is all messed up…”

Just like that, the world of music sucked Edge back in. He grinned, however, a very sly grin for a brief instant.


Cath surfaced at last to a very still house, confused when she realized it was Edge’s and there was the discordant-pleasing strain of instruments just out of her hearing.

Edge’s room was tiny, and looked like he’d shared it with his brother once; there was that definite cluttered, hurried feel to half of the room. He had blue curtains over the window, and someone had thoughtfully drawn them together to block out the light so she wouldn’t wake involuntarily. The blue was rippled through with sunlight that cast a faint feeling throughout the room like an ocean. It was cozy, but Cath felt trapped; she needed to move.

There was a faint momentary twinge in her belly, and that seemed the last of the ache she had had before falling unconscious and being rushed to the hospital. It was like a little warning, or a goodbye, that Cath did not appreciate. With it, however, came an oddly more exciting little shifting twinge. Cath smiled, pulling the curtains apart and letting the light flow in, stretching her arms.

Hi there too, kid.

She had the sudden inexplicable urge to run; some energy had come sweeping back into her. She didn’t trust it would stay, but put that unease out of her mind. Hunger was tearing her apart, and her clothes—the ones she’d had on before the hospital, and it had been days—felt heavy and sweaty, unpleasant against her skin. She smoothed the covers over Edge’s bed, wondering where he’d slept for the past few days, and her hand came up against an unexpected obstacle she’d assumed was a pillow or something.

There was a folded up little pile of clothes on her bed, some of her looser jeans and a shirt that looked like it might be Bono’s. She nearly overlooked the little folded up piece of paper tucked underneath them, and unfolded it in her hands.

An Cath Du,

Bono brought you some clothes from his place.


Edge, a couple hours ago, had paused over the paper, rolling his eyes: he didn’t mention that the clothes Bono had retrieved were impossible, a button-up shirt, for one, and that Edge had made Paul Hewson go back and get something less difficult to put on.

There aren’t any zippers or anything, just in case, and none of it’s tight.

Thanks Edge
, Cath thought. She didn't know if she could handle too many buttons at the moment.

My parents are out, and the rest of the band and I are playing in the city; we’ll probably be back in the afternoon. There’s food on the table—there should be, if Adam and Bono didn’t eat all of it—and if there isn’t, there’s food in the fridge.

It was pretty normal, it was just the last few words that made her think.

Be careful, love.

Edge.


She decided to have a bath, since everyone was away and wouldn’t walk in—and really, what did that matter when she was pregnant and two of them had already seen her naked before?—which was delicious for her exhausted muscles, though after about ten minutes, she didn’t really want to get out of the water. She made herself, and cleaned up the water that had slipped over the side of the tub, rubbing her hair dry and attempting to slip into the clothes that had been at the end of the bed. She glared irritatedly at her bra—it wasn’t being very cooperative—and, cursing faintly, folded it up under her dirty clothes and just put on the shirt instead. It wasn’t Bono’s; she hadn’t seen it before—must have been Edge’s, and was loose enough and not confusing to put on.

The pants were a struggle, too. She finally gave up and let them pop lower on her waist so they’d actually stay on without making her suffocate, and was thankful to dear God that Edge’s shirt came past that.

There was about half a piece of toast on the table when she emerged from the bathroom. she ate that, then poked around in the fridge and downed a shameful amount of orange juice, attempting afterwards to make eggs properly. It worked—mostly—and she ate even the burnt ones before they cooled down, feeling at least less hungry, and definitely more steadily energetic. She slipped on her shoes, crossed into Edge’s bedroom, and scribbled something beneath where Edge had left off, thoughtfully doodling over ‘love’ since that felt…a little odd when viewed by certain eyes.

It wasn’t as cold outside as she’d feared, and the slight sting wore away when she began walking. Running might not be best for now, Cath decided. She thought first to go track down U2 and catch the boys by surprise, but soon realized that would be too far, and found herself walking a familiar way. She smiled, coming up to Ali’s door, genuinely happy when Ali opened the door practically before she knocked.

“Holy shit, Cath! It’s good to see you!” She was rushed into a brief hug that communicated better Ali’s past few days of worry.

You look good,” Cath said, grinning. Ali looked like she’d been about to head out, and had done something unusual with her hair and makeup that Cath couldn’t really place. “The guy have anything to do with that?” Ali blushed—Cath laughed; Ali wasn’t really the awkward blushing type—confirming Cath’s suspicions.

“How long have you guys been…?”

“Couple days,” Ali said, giggling. “God,” she said more seriously. “It was hard at first; I kept seeing him as Paul—and then I realized I needed a break from Hewson anyway.”

Cath didn’t offer any comment, feeling a little terrible in her position—she had had no idea Paul had a girlfriend, when they slept together, and here Cath was practically married to the buy.

Ali realized Cath’s silence and sighed. “Cath. Don’t look like that. It’s not your fault.”

They migrated up to Ali’s room after Ali grabbed the rest of lunch. Cath made as if to dance to the music playing, grinned, then settled down; she really was still tired, if only from lack of movement for the past few days.

“So,” Cath said. “What was Paul doing?”

Ali knew exactly what Cath was asking. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye, her makeup smudging.

“He was in jail.” She looked up, her eyes pained.

“Why?” Cath sounded curious, not really angry, though her fists were clenched and something was clenched in her voice.

“Something about getting into a fight,” Ali said. “After the show, he punched some guy heading out the door and it turned into a big fight. The police hauled Bono into jail from where he was lying in the road.”

“Who?” Cath asked quietly. She had an odd feeling twisting through her that she knew something about this.

Ali looked up, and told her. Cath went white. She was unsure what to think, and stammered an apology before rushing to the bathroom to throw up. The world settled around her a little less kindly than it had that morning.

“Edge knew,” she told Ali with conviction when she returned. “Neither of them told me.”

Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to hate Edge; there was something about the pain in his expression when he saw her and Paul together, or apart. He must have known Cath would have been shocked.

“Cath?” Ali asked carefully, noticing the other girl’s odd expression. “Did something happen?”

Cath remained lost in thought briefly before shaking her head absently then gripping the bathmat white-knuckled as another wave of nausea passed.


It was getting easier to play the new songs to an audience. The whole concept had been faintly unfamiliar to the band for a while; yes, they’d performed in school, and not in school, but these were new songs and it wasn’t as if there was nothing on the band members’ minds. Paul found it second nature to avoid the girls now and shoved as politely as he could past the crowd, his voice slightly hoarse because he’d practically had to shout into the faulty microphone. The audience responded like they were in his head, giving back his own emotions overwhelmingly. He was glad to be outside now; he had practically cried, for a moment onstage.

Underneath the frozen exterior, there was a halting sort of promise about this day. Edge had finally talked most of the worry out of him and going through the music had helped everyone ease up a little. Adam was making crude jokes while they walked back to Edge’s place, and Larry commented, “just think, you’ll have to be back in school in January, Paul Hewson,” with a smug look on his face.

"I love how the teachers still call him that," Adam added. Edge made a face. He'd been 'David Evans'-ed enough already in school.

“But—Lar, aren’t you a little young to be—” …out of school?

“He’s dropped out,” Adam commented, an equally amused look on his face. “Looks like it’s just you, Hewson.”

“Hey, don’t you start. You’re only gone from school because everyone’s seen your naked arse.”

Larry’s face was red, his shoulders shaking from holding in the laughter.

Then Paul groaned. “Bloody sodding Gaelic…” And with Larry gone, he was alone in his class, now!

Edge was smiling a little smile of high hilarity. “Cath knows Gaelic,” he commented, the voice of reason. “You could ask her for help.”

Oh.” He’d almost forgotten. He had heard her slip into speaking it, quite a lot lately, actually, though she ended up making a face and apologizing that she hardly realized she wasn’t speaking things they’d understand. “Edge, you…are brilliant.” He frowned again. “I wonder how she’s doing?” he mused for about the billionth time since they were out.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Shut up, already, she’s probably fine. It’s not like every time you’re gone the world falls apart.”

“He’d certainly like to think so,” Edge said evilly, ducking away when Bono tried to swat him.

They walked into Edge’s place, Paul unconsciously humming ‘Electric Co.’; the song was stuck in his mind and wouldn’t leave, with the rest of the guilt from prison. “Cath, love?” he practically sang when he opened the door, the others snickering at him. Ah, she was there, rather quickly, abruptly kissing Paul until he broke away to breathe again. He didn’t notice the sad edge to her actions, only that underneath it, she seemed happy and much more alive.

“Nice to have you back,” he commented when he could speak again, kissing her back more softly. She had had to stop the overwhelmed tears that hit behind her eyes, reaching out blindly instead.

Cath hadn’t realized the unconscious upset she’d felt with their physical separation over the past few days. Her mind focused on the immediate, so that she could process everything later—and she wondered briefly about the transience of Paul, the way he seemed to exist even when everything else could not.

Then he caught the look she failed to hide in her eyes. There was something on her mind, something that he couldn’t let go of seeing.

She drew him aside, into the hallway, while the others made musical talk. No, he had been wrong about her being happy—the happiness was that edge to the sadness that made it hit him hard. She just looked at him, and, “Isaac,” she stated. She screwed up her face to avoid the beginnings of the overwhelmed tears again, shaking, and kissed him again until the happiness and sadness and everything became his own. Little fragments of past memory wound through Paul’s mind—Cath looking up, their eyes meeting with the same thoughts as his voice died off, the song ending—and all those other little glimpses he had remembered, of darker things in her life before he had met her. Everything he had been too late to save her from.

Somehow he understood that she was at once relieved and distraught, and something had grown and been lost in their relationship—the sadness lost, perhaps. Beyond that, the thoughts in his own head were enough of a whirlwind that it would take a few days to sort them out.

Cath walked again into the bone-silent house, the floor cold beneath her feet after she slipped her shoes off again. She drifted up, body tight with suppressed emotion, to look idly at a picture on a wall: a little boy smiled there, next to another little boy, caught in childhood silliness. She brought her eyes away and simply stood where she was, almost unable to move.

She didn’t know what to think of what Paul had done. Something about it was very, very good, and something also even more deeply wrong. She remembered that picture of Edge—David Evans, then—the child in Bono’s face sometimes when he stared at her or he sang, or the pain in the man who he was. Peter Rowen staring wide-eyed into their souls with Paul Hewson’s thoughts powerful on his face. Bono’s own sadnesses and triumphs and everything that made him whole and, as a whole, understandable to her. He needed that base stuff to drive himself into other peoples’ hearts, to bring out pieces of themselves in song they had buried long ago.

She was suddenly glad that Edge was not there at that moment, because if he had been, things may have changed utterly. And Cath…in a very small place in the back of her mind, that she denied consciously, was very confused. And in pain. She didn’t let herself feel that pain just yet: it would have no boundaries, and could not be healed.

She was glad, also, that Paul arrived so quickly—that she could keep that room in her mind locked and forgotten, and be relieved. And that, by some willing chance of fate, it had been he who opened the door. And—the months flashing back into glimpses of moments—that he had been there in the beginning.
 
Whew, I'm finally caught up!

1) Bono in jail. :giggle: He'd be the life of the party. And he was!

2) Edge...kissed...CATH! OMFG! Could he not have chosen a more WRONG time to do it??? LOL!

3) Why do I feel like things are going to get reeeeeeallllllly bad for Cath? :sad:

4) I love Ail

5) Your writing is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, as usual! Lovely!
 
Night night, Blue :)

L&L—Thanks darlin :)

1) Hehehehe....that was so much fun. Grace was quite quite awesome to suggest he'd get arrested and everyone would end up singing drunkenly...:D It was a bit of happiness amongst all the angst lately...

2) Yep, twice! Bad boy. That was fun too...I feel really bad for little Edgy...

3) ...you'll see how it all works out, that's all I'm revealing

4) She is terrible! She told on Bono. At the same time, though, she's great for doing that.
 
I wonder what was before that edit? XD

I meant to say you were awesome, but I had to go to sleep D:
 
Yay, now I can respond properly...
This was my favorite line in this chapter:
The audience responded like they were in his head, giving back his own emotions overwhelmingly.
I love your descriptions! :D That's so true.
Aaaaand, I'm glad Ali was back, I was wondering where she went...
Plus, Edge's note for Cath was adorable. :)
 
Hahaha. Cool :) Yeah...I would probably find audiences really, really overwhelming...

:nod: It was definitely time to mention what was going on with Ali
and I had fun with that note :3 Edgy...
 
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