An Cat Dubh 7

The friendliest place on the web for anyone that follows U2.
If you have answers, please help by responding to the unanswered posts.

AnCatKatie

Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
Joined
Nov 27, 2010
Messages
6,813
Location
pearl jammin'
This was a bit of a sad chapter to write, for me. On the one hand, Edge was fun. On the other hand, everything else not so much.

Bono's in deep shit...

(Edge sings 'The Wild Rover', by the way, something I've been wanting to write him doing for a while...)

I own zip. Fiction, pretty much entirely.

***

Edge fumbled with the keys in the ignition, far too distracted by the sight of the naked, unconscious Cath in the passenger’s seat, and her hair twisting around her shoulders. He sighed, slammed the keys down, and removed some of his clothing, a difficult feat in the driver’s seat of his very small car. There. Cath was now covered by his jacket and wore what looked like boxer shorts. Now he could drive.

In the waiting room, Edge fidgeted. He was pumped full of adrenaline leftover from Cath nearly dying, and absolutely could not sit still. He tapped his fingers against the edge of his seat, shifted around, sighed, rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore the disapproving looks of the nurse who had been helping Cath, wondering what they were about. She had taken one look at Edge, who was jacketless and shivering, and Cath, who was naked under the jacket and boxers, raised her eyebrows and assumed a lot.

Gradually his fidgeting died down, though the orange waiting room seats made his eyes bleed. A little boy came in with his mother, sat next to Edge, and looked at him curiously. “What are you here for?” he asked. Edge started. He had been lulled into a half sleep by the silence. “My…uh…friend had a heart attack,” he said very seriously to the boy, who responded proudly, “I’m getting my last round of kee-mo-therapy today. The doctor says I don’t need it anymore.” Edge’s heart plummeted more than it had already fallen.

The hours felt like days. The nurse wasn’t letting Edge in to see Cath, though she obviously thought he was her boyfriend—thanks, Ali, for that suggestion, thought Edge sarcastically—and he nearly slept again, alternately talking to the boy next to him. He was about Peter Rowen’s age and far less irritating, though Edge wasn’t really annoyed by kids at all.

Utterly exhausted after four hours, Edge began singing of all things, the only thing coming to mind traditional songs. The kid had fallen asleep, his head against the armrest. They and the kid’s mother were the only people in the waiting room.

I’ve been a wild rover for many a year,” Edge sang softly, “and I spent all me money on whiskey and beer…” That got him to thinking of what Cath had said. There was something familiar in her expression, when she talked about why she wasn’t at home—a sort of closed hardness in her eyes. She wasn’t saying everything.

Which makes complete sense, Edge reminded himself. You’ve only known her less than a day. Why would she start talking about her life in detail?

He suddenly had the urge to speak to someone, anyone, though he was the only one awake in the waiting room.

Instead he continued singing, drawing out the normally fast tune to a slower, quieter melody that became background noise all around him. “I went to an alehouse I used to frequent…and I told the landlady ‘me money’s all spent’…

In the bluish darkness punctured only by the sharp hospital lights, finally there was a soft sound that was not Edge singing. He looked up. The nurse’s makeup was disorienting in the sharp contrast, making it difficult for him to make out her expression. It was more forgiving than it had been before, but only slightly—it had softened with his singing.

“Sorry,” she said in a strong accent. “Thought you might want an update. We didn’t let you in because…well, frankly, I was a little suspicious. Upon examination, we saw signs of abuse. It probably wasn’t you, since the cuts are scars and…you don’t really seem that type. You’d better not be,” she warned him, steel in her voice. “I hope I’m not wrong about you.”

Edge reassured her with something he didn’t remember saying afterward. He was too focused on what she was leading up to, and an irrational bright spot of anger had jarred him completely awake, pounding in the back of his mind steadily. He was not the kind to act upon the more dangerous emotions to others, but…if Bono…

“You probably already know why, but we’re letting the fever run its course. The medicine wouldn’t be a good idea. That’s why it’s been hours. I’m sorry.”

Her expression grew a mite softer. “She’s asleep, but…”

She explained to him what she assumed he already knew.

Edge thought he had been angry before. Fuck. He had not been angry before, not compared to this. He swallowed and tried to look composed. The nurse assumed it was teenage awkwardness, he hoped.

This complicated things. This complicated things so fucking much. He didn’t know if it was wise to even look Bono in the face. Edge hoped Bono would be gone from Ali’s house when he returned, because at this point, he would probably attempt to scratch the singer’s face off.

“I understand,” he told the nurse. “Tell me what I can do.” It was a little difficult to speak, at this point; his throat felt like it was closing up, or his tongue got in the way.

She had a face of stone, in a way. He had never seen someone react so calmly to reactions so out of character as his was. He wasn’t typically this way. But she was probably used to dealing with irrational patients or family members and it certainly helped now.

“The shorter of the symptoms is uncertain in length,” she said. “It may be connected to some past trauma. She may be soothed by your presence. I would advise against waking her up, however; she’s coming out of the fever unpleasantly and might fare better asleep.”

Edge nodded. She showed him to a faintly lit room that echoed with a faint, constant beep of Cath’s monitored heartbeat. She lay on her side, eyes shut tightly, the sheets thrown in all directions. Sweat from the fever shone faintly across her face.

Edge asked, suddenly concerned—“Did the fever—?”

“No,” the nurse replied, anticipating this question. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she added. “There’s a button at the side of the bed if anything happens.”

Edge sighed in relief. It was…odd having to play a role he wasn’t really used to. For the most part, he hadn’t been in a relationship, and couldn’t stand the implications the nurse gave to him based on Cath. What he really wanted to do was pound Bono’s face in, but…it was against his better judgement. He breathed in and out to calm himself.

Bono probably had no idea about any of it. Maybe that was a good thing. Edge would go crazy, though, of that continued.

Cath’s hospital gown was sleeveless, white. Edge laughed harshly.

Bono had probably forgotten about her. It did explain the band’s sudden standstill, however.

Her miniscule scars across the fever-pale skin of her arms shone faintly from the light of the machines. Her hair lay damp across her face and shoulders. Edge neared and pushed it away, hoping she would not wake and that it would improve her condition. Clearing most thoughts from his mind, slipping into his role of the concerned boyfriend—the nurse was probably watching—and gently extricating one of her hands from its white-knuckled grip around the edge of the bed, holding it in his own. She was still too warm, but only a few degrees warmer than he was.

Absently he sang, the beeping of the monitor a back rhythm to his softly rising and falling voice.

If she’s lucky, she won’t dream, he thought grimly. I’m going to kill the bastard, if I’m right.

Cath drifted out of recent memory muddled with similar memories of the past…

She opened the window, breathing heavily, everything too warm. The cool air was a relief, hitting her body, but it wasn’t enough. Frustrated, she made a noise and her shirt dropped darkly from around her shoulders. Her pants followed…ah, that was better. The room was oddly undefined, only heat and coolness and darkness. Why was it so hard to think? Her heart was racing…

In her fevered state, the pictures on the wall seemed to loom in her vision, Bono’s face suddenly in front of her, eyes bright and demanding. She tried to speak—why are you here, Paul? Stop looking at me like that—but the words came out jumbled. She tripped, in trying to near the picture that seemed an odd combination of the man…straightening, she couldn’t see even that anymore, and fell into a half-conscious state…

Something bit across her face coldly. She didn’t realize it was only the air from the opening door, and whipped around, eyes sharp. She cried out, hearing voices and heavy footfalls. Heart pounding, she scrambled under the bed, closing her eyes. She wasn’t here…she wasn’t…

But the cuts felt suddenly vivid across her face, sharp as bits of cold metal, stinging. She backed away from the face in front of her, but something blocked her way—the underside of the bed.

“No, I didn’t,” she began to say, but heard voices again outside her room like gunshots. It was too much. She was glad when it became suddenly dark and difficult to breathe…

I won’t have to face him again, she thought, and wasn’t sure who she meant. The men jumbled together. She was sorry…sorry for…Paul…

Light swam in front of her, and a face came into view after a sudden pressure on her chest blinded her. She gasped, seeing through her cracked-open eyelids a different expression than she had expected…his anxious, gripping concern brought her back to who she was…Edge? Why was Edge there? The relief was considerable. She had felt the blow and thought it was—

Her thoughts settled somewhat into less words as she felt motion, warmth, heard voices around her that were less disturbing. The beeping clawed at her ears and dragged into light a rapid succession of images, the last of her staring at her own blood that had fallen from her face. She didn’t remember how much later it had been, but she walked for the last time back into her house and grabbed Paul’s jacket to hide the bruises, the door slamming like a gunshot.

Her heart was beating too fast, she heard, in a woman’s voice swimming into her awareness. And then things she already knew—her heart sank. So she was still… And what? Her boyfriend? She didn’t have a boyfriend—she froze, trying to wrap her mind around forming an apology; Paul wouldn’t understand…

But still she couldn’t speak. Sleep muffled her words and actions, binding her to where she was. She felt a faint, comforting pressure: someone held her hand. She tried to bolt away—what if it was—but nothing else happened, and she calmed.

Thank you, she thought. She would say it later, if she remembered.

Something beautiful drifted into her hearing, the words indistinct but the voice familiar. She wondered hazily where Paul was, and why he was not singing too. He usually was…

The past was chased away momentarily. She drifted between sleep and wakefulness, in the grey area where no-one could catch her. Faintly, the sound of the ocean—his heartbeat—lulled her back to sleep entirely.



Bono felt warm and…slippery? He heard raised voices nearby, and cracked his eyes open. Ugh. Wrong idea. Someone cracked open the door and giggled upon seeing a naked Paul Hewson there. Ali’s sister. Oh, great.

He narrowed his vision to slits and groaned, trying to fall out of his bed—and sloshing water all over the floor. He was in a bathtub! Why was he in a bath—he saw clothes nearby. Feminine clothes.

What the hell was I doing last night?

Relieved, he realized they were Ali’s, and concentrated next on extricating himself from the bathtub without splashing. He winced: his footsteps, and every movement, brought an aching pain to his head.

You were probably drunk, boyo, he thought to himself grimly. How in hell was he going to handle this?

He managed to get his pants back on—they, aside from his underpants, were the only article of clothing in the bathroom that belonged to him. Ugh, they smelled terrible. He turned on the faucet and ran water over his hands, running them through his hair and trying to look somewhat presentable.

His eyes were still a little unfocused, but he looked awake, at least. He dried his chest and back off, tidied the bathroom up a little, leaving Ali’s clothing—he didn’t want to know—and opened the door.

Here he was in a predicament. If he called out Ali’s name, her family would realize he had just been naked in her bathtub. If he went downstairs, the same. He made a dash for her room, then regretted the thought—that would be fecking worse!

Bono groaned.

Someone was coming up the stairs. He flattened himself against the wall. Ali laughed, a little unkindly.

“Awake, are you, love?” she asked. Funny, she didn’t seem too mad at him. What the hell had been going on last night…

He squinted. “I don’t recall you owning that jacket,” he stated, seeing his jacket around Ali’s shoulders. Her expression clearly morphed to uh-oh.

“I don’t,” she replied.

“Funny, I thought it was with…?” Oh, shit.

Bono tried to contemplate the possible permutations of Ali having that article of his clothing at the time, and failed miserably, except for one impossibility.

“Did you find…erm…that girl I slept with and kill her and steal my jacket?”

“The hell is wrong with your priorities, Hewson?” She was glaring at him.

“Why was your ex-boyfriend naked in the bathtub?” he Ali’s sister interrupt heard from a few feet away. Bono rolled his eyes and tried to melt into the wall.

Ali was saved from replying to either party. There was a clicking sound from down below: the front door opened. Ali followed whatever goings-on Bono couldn’t see. Confused, he followed behind her, and saw Edge.

“Well, how was it?” Ali asked.

“Edge, what are you doing here?” He saw briefly a controlled, tight expression on the other boy’s face.

Then he saw Edge’s arms. Or, what was in them. He was supporting a hospital gown-clad girl who also seemed to be wearing Edge’s boxers…what?…and jacket…Bono froze, seeing that face and remembering instantly the dark-haired girl.

He was answering Ali. “Most of the problems are going to go away. She may be a little sick for a little longer.” There was something…odd…in his voice, as if he was controlling himself. Bono remembered Edge didn’t like to lie…but why would he be lying?

“Fuck,” Bono whispered. “What in hell is going on?”

“Ali?” Edge said tightly, and she understood, though shot him a disapproving glance. No, if she had understood, she wouldn’t have taken Cath and let Edge’s arms free.

Edge was looking at him with thinly veiled murder in his eyes. “Paul fucking Hewson,” he said quietly, shaking, “what did you do to this girl?”

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK I DID?” Bono yelled.

“The nurse told me all sorts of things. I thought you should tell me, before you regret every bloody thing you did.” He raised a fist.

“I—oh hell. I slept with her, the end.”

Edge looked at him in disbelief. “Really? Is that all? Not that you raped her?” He didn’t even start on the blows that girl had once had.

“WHAT?” Bono looked at the guitarist in plain horror. “Wait a bloody second! She took me to her apartment! I had very little to do with it!”

Edge shook his head in denial of something else, and remained silent.

Bono didn’t really need to know. He was too immature. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. And—where would the band be?

Besides, Edge had a suspicion that Bono and Ali had done…more than he had seen, when he was away. If the splashing had been anything to judge by, though he wasn’t sure, with the disgust clear in Ali’s face as she looked from Bono to Edge to Cath and back again.

Cath blinked, straightened a little and stood. Her eyes focused, and she saw Bono and immediately stiffened.

“What happened?” he was asking her, far too close, half-naked, practically in her face. His hair was still wet, his eyes intense. He didn’t think, not with his mind at least, and his lips locked on hers before she could respond. Cath automatically kissed him back, heart speeding, before her fists balled up and she shoved him away hard. Her breaths were coming irregular. She pushed her hair out of her face, staring at Bono, caught up in sensory overload from the past few days. Something rose in her—a sudden wave of dizziness. She stumbled past Edge’s supporting arms before managing the first phrase she had spoken in a while.

“Excuse me,” she said, glancing at Bono, eyes wide, and stumbled outside, Ali and Edge half-running after her. Cath’s back was turned. She pushed her hair out of the way as she retched into the bushes.

Ali looked questioningly at Edge. “She just had a fever,” he muttered, not looking at her. Ali was about to say something, but her attention was torn away. A man banged on the door. Cath had stiffened again, her movements locked and sharp as she turned around.

“Cathlin?” the man yelled.

“Now wait just a bloody minute!” Bono said, trying to figure out who this guy was.

“Where the hell is my daughter?” Edge, unwillingly, pointed to where Cath shakily stood.

“I’d like some privacy,” she said to them in a hard voice. Ali laughed very quietly: Cath’s arms were tense as Bono’s before he was about to fight someone, her fists tucked the proper way to punch.

“Go ahead,” she said, moving with Edge inside the house again. They sat there, with Bono, looking out the window. Cath was very, very tense in the way she stood, not at all happy to see her father again.

Their voices drifted in, with snatches of yelled conversation.

“Why the hell have you been gone for three months? Who were you with? That man looked familiar.”

The man looked down, seeing what Cath was wearing.

“And why were you in the bleedin’ hospital? I can’t focking pay for it!”

She muttered some lie, as far as they could tell. “Good,” Ali whispered, wishing she could snatch Cath away. Bono, in the meantime, was contemplating knocking the sense from the man, who was clearly not welcome. Ali told him no with her eyes—

Where was Edge?

“Fuck,” Bono whispered tightly. “Bad idea, Edge.” Edge was crossing over to the two figures, fists balled tight. “You know you can’t fight!” Bono commented.

Edge clearly did not care.

He had not reached them yet, but the volume had increased a lot.

“—eighteen!” Cath shouted. “I don’t have to go back—“

Something quieter, that Bono and Ali could not hear.

“—not Isaac’s?” the man was yelling, red-faced. “In that case, I would have to take you back into custody.”

“So that was his name?” Cath said quietly. She was shaking, face shining with tears. She glared. “Thank you for telling me. No, Isaac had bloody nothing to do with it.”

“You bastard,” Edge whispered murderously, clearly heard. “She doesn’t have to go anywhere.” There was so much more he could say, but he had realized suddenly that this was the wrong man.

Before Edge could be beaten into a bloody pulp, Bono came over—it was bloody cold outside—and swung his fist into the man’s face.

Edge did not notice when Cath’s father left. He saw only her wide eyes and frozen face as she saw Bono in a different light. She shivered, practically fell to the pavement, heaved emptily, and in a sudden burst of strength, ran back into the house and up the stairs, not emerging until after Paul Hewson left.

Edge’s suspicions were confirmed, but not what he had guessed. Paul Hewson had something very different to answer for.
 
:lol:

I have to figure out what exactly happens next, but it shouldn't be more than a couple days till the next chapter
 
I'm too distracted cause I'm watching The Runaways :) yeah...it took me hours to write this chapter, though fortunately I did it in the morning when I had time
 
Ooh, I wanted to see that movie. Alas, since the babe was born 2.5 years ago, I never get to the movies.

Just saw an ad for Carson Daly's Rockin Eve and remembered I have to DVR it since we will be at a friend's house. It looks really pre-recorded.
 
Well, it's awesome. It's just difficult to watch things online for more than an hour; most sites don't let you...

Rockin Eve?
 
"NBC's New Year's Eve with Carson Daly" brought you all the excitement from the world's most famous New Year's Eve destination, New York City's Times Square. Once again, Carson welcomes some of the biggest names of music on the show to perform and help ring in 2011. Grammy Award-winner Lil Wayne, Grammy nominee Nicki Minaj and Reprise Records rock band My Chemical Romance will help ring in 2011 on "NBC's New Year's Eve with Carson Daly." Additionally, U2's Bono and The Edge talk with Daly about writing the score and lyrics for the new Broadway musical "Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark" during the holiday special.

I've seen video of the them sitting with Carson so it looks like it was taped a long time ago. Doesn't matter. They still look good. Perhaps it was before all the recent troubles so they were still feeling pretty good about the project.
 
Why are you confused? (must be all that isn't said...sorry about that ^^) It'll make more sense, anyhow, in a couple chapters. I think up next, Larry and Adam will make an appearance...maybe...
 
That's why I'm DVRing it. So I can have 2 fecking hours of Carson Daly sludge and hopefully 10-15 minutes of ultimate coolness. I'm hoping for You Tube as well so I don't have to scan 2+ hours on my DVR.
 
Yes, it was the end, maybe I missed something that was obvious... or mentioned earlier... or maybe you just didn't say it?

I suspect there is/was a pregnancy out of the night she shared with Paul. But I could be wrong.

I am wondering what transpired between Ali and Paul in the tub. Edge seems to think everything went down, but Ali got out of the tub fully clothed and Paul had been asleep. However, when Paul woke up, Ali's clothes were beside the tub. :hmm:
 
I suspect there is/was a pregnancy out of the night she shared with Paul. But I could be wrong.

I am wondering what transpired between Ali and Paul in the tub. Edge seems to think everything went down, but Ali got out of the tub fully clothed and Paul had been asleep. However, when Paul woke up, Ali's clothes were beside the tub. :hmm:

GRA-ACE! You and your mind. ...Paul/Bono would go crazy.

Edge is just a very suspicious guy lately. He has reason, however. ....good point! Ali's clothes...I wasn't even thinking of that. Hehehe :shifty: So I'm wondering myself. To be continued when I get back from lunch and get access to the laptop...

I like that you're calling him Paul :) he's gaining two sort of personas ('nice bunch of guys') to me: Paul Hewson's the, for the most part, good guy or just the immature one. Bono's the one who's having difficulty with lyrics and dealing with the more difficult stuff. And also, Cath calls him Paul since she's used to that being his name, and Ali and Edge call him Bono except when they're annoying him or are angry (like an angry mom! :lol:)

Yes, it was the end, maybe I missed something that was obvious... or mentioned earlier... or maybe you just didn't say it?

What specifically? I might be able to help you here :) unless, as I suspect, it's a spoiler and you'll have to find out. If so, my response will be something neutral like "Adam Clayton's poofy hair" :)
 
Shut up, Grace :D no more ideas.

Cath's dad came around and wanted to talk to her. He found out she was staying with Ali (and how would he find out that? Hmm...) and recognized Paul Hewson and immediately began yelling at Ali about a past relationship she, well, did not like. Edge got angry, knowing a bit about this past relationship, and suspected Cath's dad had something to do with the abuse, and therefore unwisely decided to punch the crap out of him, which Bono did instead, which freaked Cath out. She's dealing with a bit of post-trauma.
 
Did Cath's father prostitute her? I got that feeling from this and past chapters. So, perhaps there was a baby, and Edge assumes it was Paul/Bono's.
 
No, not exactly. He just...wasn't around when he should have been. Cath is extremely angry at him. Edge has pretty good guesses, though. For the most part he knows what's going on, and is not telling.

I spent about ten more minutes than necessary standing in the shower thinking of the plot for what is next. Next chapter might be PM only :D Paaaul Heeewson...all his fault.

Then again, it might be appropriate. I have yet to decide. I could split the chapter up into...that part...and the stuff that doesn't need to be PM'd/emailed.
 
I think I did that with one of the chapters. I posted a version that skipped over the details but contained other stuff and emailed the details to those who wanted them.
 
It's a good idea :)

I'm going to lunch though before writing, unfortunately, so it'll be a little longer to wait than I thought.
 
Back
Top Bottom