G. I. Joe 1. I

03:06  
  
Scarlett looked into the mirror in the bathroom of the suite she shared with her best friend, Lady Jaye and gave herself a critical once over.  
  
Eyes: Bloodshot, but considering the hour and the stress, that was excuseable and explainable. She reached over and got some eye drops, adding them to her eyes, blinking until the images cleared again. Better. Not great but better.  
  
Hair: Still red, thank God. She inspected it carefully, finding a few strands of pure white. She uncerimoniously pulled them, not even wincing at the sharp pain as she pulled. She was going to have to start dying her hair soon.  
  
Chin: Not looking too saggy. Not as nice as it once was maybe, but not bad. No weird hairs, another small blessing.  
  
Wrinkles: There. She couldn't deny it, there were some. Her pale skin and avoidance of sun was a great help in that department, but nothing could stop time.  
  
Breasts: No major sagging, she could thank her lack of children for that. And somehow they seemed to be getting smaller, which was totally not fair.  
  
Tummy: That at least was still in great shape. She'd never had time to be a couch potato and no pregnancies meant that it all was in the same good shape that she'd left it in several years ago.  
  
Ass: Did she even have one anymore? She craned her neck around to inspect it. At least cottage cheese wasn't taking up residence yet. Yet. She vowed to do extra PT sessions to ensure it never did.  
  
Legs: Always a good feature, seemed fairly untouched still by age. Her knees though creaked more than they used to, and she felt sore sometimes after a big battle.  
  
She pulled her gaze out to take in her whole body. Thirty five. This is what Thirty five looks like. She was scared to think of 40 and 50. But, all in all, thirty five isn't that bad. She could still rock some young stud's world. Maybe. Not that she had much time to cruise the bars for young studs with her job, but a girl could dream.  
  
A pounding came at the door, "Come on out Red. I know it's your birthday, but that doesn't mean the rest of the world stops and I don't have morning duty."  
  
Scarlett adjusted her robe before opening the door, wrinkling her nose at Jaye, "Please, don't say the "B" word."  
  
Jaye snickered, "What? It's barely started, how could it already suck? And aren't you on the 13:00 shift? What in the hell are you doing up this early."  
  
"I couldn't sleep. And it sucks because it is here. Why can't I be some unaging picture? It's not fair to give us bodies and then slowly ruin them with time!" Scarlett lamented as she flopped onto the couch.  
  
Jaye slipped into the bathroom with a grin, "Your life isn't over. You're only thirty five." She paused, sticking her head out then yelling, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANA!" Quickly ducking back into the bathroom to dodge the pillow that Scarlett sent flying to her head.  
  
07:12  
  
She was walking through the chow line later that morning, trying to keep a low profile, not easy to do when you are one of only three women on a military team, and the only one with blazing red hair. She slouched over her tray when suddenly someone came up behind her and put a hat on her head.  
  
As she turned around quickly, reaching up for the hat, a flash went off. "BASTARDS!" She threw the hat off and smacked the man with the camera. "Shipwreck, I'm going to kill you!" It was a plush hat in the shape of a birthday cake, complete with candles, bearing the legacy of 'Happy Birthday'. "Leave me the hell alone guys, ok?"  
  
Assorted snickers came from the breakfast audience. She glared at anyone she could catch laughing, making mental notes of them, planning on punishing them in the training ring later on. Beach Head usually inspired the most fear, but the hand to hand instructor could hold her own in making people's lives miserable.  
  
She slipped over to a table where she would be alone to mope, head down over what passed for food when Roadblock wasn't cooking. She looked up as she heard trays being set down around her. Flint, Duke, Snake Eyes and Cover Girl surrounded her, and except for the masked Snake Eyes, they all wore cheesy grins on their faces.  
  
"Not today guys. Please? I am just so not in the mood for it all." She pleaded with them, knowing that it would likely be totally ineffective.  
  
"Come on Scarlett, it's not that bad!" Cover Girl smiled at her.  
  
"Let's see how you feel when you turn thirty five, Miss Pretty Face."  
  
"Ouch, grumpy grumpy!" Cover Girl grinned and took a mouthful of food.  
  
"She's just jealous Courtney, she wasted the best years of her life on the military and she should have been a model like you," Duke smirked as he teased.  
  
"The best years of my life are not over yet!" Scarlett replied hotly.  
  
"Of course not Scarlett, you are just starting your golden years." Now Flint took his turn at ribbing her.  
  
Scarlett just gritted her teeth, stood up, leaving her tray and stalking out of the mess. She knew they meant well, but some of those digs hit closer to home than she'd like to admit. She left her friends behind whether to laugh further at her expense or try to make amends. Laughter won out and it followed her as she stormed down the hall. 


	2. II

Notes: I changed the title, and the direction I was planning on going with it. I was talking with my husband last night and was inspired to take this in a whole new direction. Hopefully it will turn out well. :D  
  
General disclaimers apply, the characters don't belong to me, the story is just for fun, no money is being made.  
  
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"They say it's your birthday, happy birthday to you!" - The Beatles, Birthday  
  
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Scarlett returned to her quarters, grumpy. She approached the small fridge and was tempted to remove the ice cream from the freezer to drown her birthday in Ben and Jerry's Phish Phood, but decided instead to be good and grabbed some nonfat yogurt and a handful of granola to throw in for texture. She flopped down on the couch, flipping the TV on as she crunched on her breakfast. She watched CNN and the latest news from the Middle East and the conflict in Israel. The phone rang a few minutes later and she leaned over to grab it. "Hello?"  
  
"Happy birthday Shana!" Her father's voice, with its gentle lilt, came across the miles and entered her ear, bringing a smile to her face.  
  
"Thanks Da. How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine, but you don't sound all that happy, considering it's your birthday! When you were little, this was your favorite day of the whole year."  
  
She groaned a little, "That's the problem, it's my birthday! I'm getting old, I'm not eight anymore! And where am I? Career military, no boyfriend, no children, risking my life every day for things I can't talk about and far away from my family." There was a slight petulant whine to her tone. It was hard when she was speaking to her father to not revert back to childish habits.  
  
"Shana, it's not that bad. We both know you love your job. Do you really regret where you are?" Her father's tone was gentle.  
  
"Sometimes. Sometimes I think about Mom and I wonder what she would think about me and what I've done with my life. She was younger than me and in some ways had so much more."  
  
"In some ways, yes." Patrick's voice held the pain he kept for the loss of his wife, even decades later. "You are a different woman than your mother was, and yet in some ways so similar. I am proud of you, that should count for something."  
  
"It does Daddy, I'm sorry to bring it up." She closed her eyes and sighed.  
  
"Don't be. We usually don't talk about her much because I know you don't want to upset me." His voice caught for a moment. "So, I want you to feel free to learn about her, as your birthday gift."  
  
"What do you mean, Da?"  
  
"I spoke to your friends in the military. We arranged for your gift together. My gift from just me is this:" Her father paused for a moment, gathering his strength, "Cathleen Regan, 6 Queen Avenue, Belfast. Joseph O'Hara, 653 Livingston, Drogheda, Co. Dublin"  
  
"What are those?" She scrambled for a pen and wrote the information down quickly.  
  
"Your grandmother's and uncle's current addresses, respectively. I told them you were coming."  
  
She stayed silent for a moment. She had access to this information via the military of course, but out of respect for her father, she had never really pursued it. She suddenly digested the last sentence he spoke, "That I was coming?"  
  
"I'll let your friends tell you the rest. Happy birthday, I love you very much. Please be careful." His voice held a lot of worry, he still wasn't sure that this was the right thing to do. She could find out as little or as much as she wanted, he just hoped none of the information hurt her.  
  
"I will Da. I love you too. Give my love to the boys too." She was perplexed at his worry; it just didn't fit with the situation. They hung up after a final goodbye, and she got up to face her friends again so she could find out the rest of her gift.  
  
She exited her suite, seeing a grinning Jaye when she was not 10 feet down the hall. "There you are, birthday girl! Where have you been hiding?" She grabbed Scarlett's arm and dragged her through the hall back towards the mess.  
  
"I was talking to my dad." She couldn't help but smile at Jaye's exuberance.  
  
"Wonderful! Then this is the perfect time!" Jaye pushed the doors of the mess open to show all their close friends in there, holding a sign that said 'Over the Hill'. "Surprise!!"  
  
"Oh God, not more of this!" She rolled her eyes. Scarlett was quickly enveloped into a mass of people, giving her hugs, with the occasional flash going off. She smiled in spite of herself; it was nice at least to have all her friends around.  
  
When the greetings had finished, she was sat down in chair and Duke cleared his throat. "I guess as the superior officer, it falls to me to make the speech." A smattering of applause at that, "Scarlett, we've all been friends for a long time, and when your dad gave us the opportunity to give you something spectacular for your birthday, we all jumped at the chance." A little more applause sounded, "So, from everyone, we have this," He handed her a thick manila envelope.  
  
She grinned madly as she ripped through it, her eyes widening as she saw itineraries and plane tickets. "Oh my God! You guys shouldn't have! This is too much!" She tried to hand the envelope back to Duke, shaking her head at the gift.  
  
"That's not a way to graciously accept a heartfelt gift." Duke admonished her. "The gift from Hawk and I is the time off to enjoy it. No work for 3 weeks. You are officially on leave, as of," he looked at his watch, "now!"  
  
Scarlett's eyes widened but before she could protest, her friends surrounded her with other small gifts: a sweater, a new purse, a stationary set, a new gerber and a few other items that she was just overwhelmed to receive. "You guys really shouldn't have. This is way too much. I feel terrible about accepting it all."  
  
Cover Girl came over and put her arm around Scarlett, smiling. "Don't you dare. You deserve a vacation and we are just happy we could help give it to you. None of us could believe that you had never been to Ireland besides short stops with work and had never met your Grandmother."  
  
She shrugged, "My Da always spoke fondly of Ireland, but he was very sensitive about it. There were only certain time periods he was comfortable discussing. I didn't want to push him." She looked around at her friends and grinned, "Thank you all. I'm very lucky to have you. Group hug!" They all laughed as they squished her into the center of a group hug.  
  
"Now, go pack! Your plane leaves at 1800 tonight!" Jaye pushed her playfully and Scarlett gathered her gifts and hurried back to her room to pack. 


	3. III

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"But if we see better days those big airplanes go both ways, and we'll all be coming back to you again" Wolfe Tones - Flight of the Earls  
  
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Shana O'Hara leaned back into her cramped coach seat on the plane. She was no longer Scarlett, the E-5 hand to hand instructor for America's top anti-terrorist force, she left all traces of that back in America in her barracks. Firstly because she was on vacation, but just as importantly, it wasn't necessarily safe for her as American military where she was going, especially as a counter-terrorist.   
  
She slipped her feet back into her shoes as the captain announced their approach into the airport. She couldn't deny her excitement, the way her heart was starting to pound at the prospect of what this trip held. This was a chance to reconnect with herself, her mother and her extended family; possibly even her father.   
  
The city as she disembarked looked much like any generic city she'd been through, maybe a little dirtier and more polluted than upstate New York. She slung her bag over her shoulder, opting to bring a backpack instead of a traditional suitcase. She got a few looks because of the size of the bag and the ease with which she lifted it, but in truth, it was light in comparison to most of her military packs.   
  
She made her way through customs slowly, trying to not be annoyed with the amount of time it took. She was too used to being able to move in and out of pretty much any country freely, no customs searches, no questions, if they even knew of her presence. Finally, she made her way through the throng of people, scanning the waiting people for the driver they said would be waiting for her. Finally she saw the sign, "Red", and she chuckled as she went over to the driver. "I'm Red, I'm sure there are a lot of those around though."  
  
He smiled back amiably, "Michael. S'good to meet you." She shook off his offer of help with her bag and sat down in the back. The trip to her hotel was quiet as she watched the scenery go by. It was so beautiful here. She didn't know if it was just because she was on vacation, or the city itself, but it all seemed more vibrant and alive than it did back home.   
  
She was aware suddenly that the driver had asked her a question, "Sorry, what was that?"  
  
"I just asked what brought you here? Business? Vacation?"  
  
"Family." She grinned, "I'm going to meet my grandmother for the first time."   
  
"Is that so? How is it that ya never met her before this?"  
  
"My parents emigrated and never looked back." Simple enough answer, though with so many questions behind it.  
  
The driver nodded knowingly, "That goes around a lot 'round here. Sad." She nodded, thinking about his words as the car slowed in front of a hotel, "Here we are Miss."  
  
"Thank you very much Michael, drive safely." She hefted her bag back up on her shoulder and went to check in.  
  
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In her room and unpacked, she stepped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as she could bear. She washed off the sweat from travel and grime that had accumulated and let the spray massage her tight muscles. When she was done, she wrapped her body and hair each in a towel, looking at the clock. She should be jetlagged, but with her experiences and training, that wasn't something she was worried about. She didn't need sleep and anyway, the day was young and she wanted to see her Grandmother. She looked over to the phone, then carefully dialed.  
  
"Hello?" An older woman's voice answered.  
  
"Um. Hello. May I please speak with ..."  
  
Shana was cut off before she could continue though, the woman recognizing the american accent immediately, "Shana! Shana dear! You are here? Safe and sound?"   
  
She was knocked a tad off balance by the woman's exhuberance, pausing before continuing, "Yes, it's me. And I'm fine, I was hoping to see you..." She began to trail off when the other woman interrupted.  
  
"Yes, please. Are you too tired from your flight? Did you hire a car for while you were here?"  
  
Shana realized as the woman pelted her with questions that she was nearly crying. "It's ok, I'm not too tired, would you like me to stop over today? I didn't rent a car. But I think the hotel is near to your house."  
  
"Shana, darling, I've been waiting to see you for a very long time. It would do this old heart good if you could come over today for some tea. Please?" Her voice was pleading and almost pitiful.   
  
"If you give me some directions from my hotel, I will be over in an hour? Would that be alright?" She felt bad, this poor woman had been cut off from her daughter and grandchildren for decades and suddenly one was so nearby and willing to see her. She wondered what had happened that caused such a complete cutoff of communication and affection. Her grandparents hadn't even been to the funeral when her mother died.   
  
"Yes, as soon as you can. I've missed you and your mother so much. I can't wait to hear all about you and your brothers." She gave the directions quickly and then they hung up the phone with promises to see each other soon.  
  
Shana sat back, a little overwhelmed by the emotion of the other woman. She hesitated, then called her father. "Da, I just wanted to let you know I got here safely."  
  
He seemed a bit nervous, or perhaps it was just the connection, "I'm glad Shana. Have you called your grandma yet?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm heading over there in a few minutes. I just need to call into work."   
  
"Be very careful over there Shana. Please." Her father was definitely worried. She wasn't sure why, because he knew how well trained she was, even if he didn't know the full extent of her abilities. She felt confident in defending herself in any situation.  
  
"I will Da. Take care and give the boys a hug from me." He gave her a farewell and then hung up and she quickly dialed the number that went directly to her suite at the Pit.   
  
"Jaye." Pleasantries were not incredibly common in the military style of answering a phone.  
  
"Hey Jaye. It's me. I've arrived. I'm safe." She was vague and non-specific since the phone on her end was not secured. She heard a male voice in the background inquiring about the call, "I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing before, tell the guys 'hi' from me."  
  
"Will do. Stay safe sister. Out." With that, the call was done and Shana walked to the bathroom, deciding to put her hair in a braid instead of drying it so she could head over to her grandmother's house more quickly. She quickly plaited it, then stepping into a comfortable pair of chinos and a blue sweater that complimented her coloring and a pair of black boots and headed out, making sure the door was locked behind her. 


	4. IV

Short chapter, but there will be a longer one in the next day or two. I had hoped to have this story done by Friday, but that was not to be. Thanks for those of you who are reading!  
  
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"Graffiti on the wall, just as the sun was going down, I saw graffiti on the wall, For the Celts, For the Celts" Wolfe Tones - Celtic Symphony  
  
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As Shana walked through the streets towards where her grandmother lived, she noted many more differences between Belfast and any city in the United States; the bullet holes visible in the sides of buildings, the establishments that had been bombed and never rebuilt and all over, graffitti proclaiming the certainty and moral correctness of either side. It was still a war zone here. A flame of anger rose in her chest, the terrorists ruled here. No one paid much attention it seemed outside of the island, but this place was a hotbed for terrorists too. Even if they didn't bear the name Cobra, that didn't make it any better! She made a mental note to speak to Hawk about this, maybe the Joe team could do something to shut the terrorists down here too.  
  
She arrived at the number that was her grandmother's and she knocked tentatively. There was a pause, then a white haired, well preserved woman opened the door. She drew in a deep breath and put a hand to her chest, tears immediately springing to her eyes. Shana looked concerned and reached a hand out to her and the older woman immediately grasped it, speaking in a throaty, emotional voice, "Shana. You...You look so much like your mother! Come in, come in!"   
  
Now Shana felt tears springing to her eyes as she followed her into a parlor, sitting on a loveseat with the woman. "Grandma." Not a question, just an acknowledgement of the truth of the matter, more overcome with emotion than she was expecting.   
  
"Oh Shana, you are so lovely, it takes my breath away, you are just like her. Oh dear, it is so wonderful to finally meet you at last." Cathleen had tears running down her cheeks and she touched Shana's hair and face gently, getting to better know her granddaughter.   
  
"I'm sorry, I wish this wasn't our first meeting, I really do." Shana took the woman's hands and held them tightly, "I'd always dreamed of meeting the rest of our family and you. I always wanted grandparents."   
  
"You've always had them dear, even when you didn't know." They squeezed each other's hands and began the process of getting to know each other.  
  
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After two pots of tea and rivers of tears, it seemed like they had known each other much longer. Shana no longer felt this woman was a stranger, but truly her grandmother. She looked through albums of photos and heard amusing stories of her mother as a child. Finally though, she decided to delve into the deeper subjects. "Gramma, do you know why? Why they left and never let us know you? What happened?"  
  
A strong sadness filled Cathleen's eyes, "It's not easy to explain Shana. And an old woman like me isn't the best choice to even try."  
  
She nodded, not bothering to hide her confusion. She spoke, her voice gentle, "Was my mother pregnant?"  
  
Cathleen squeezed her hand and smiled gently, "No, nothing like that. We didn't want your Ma and Da to leave. But it was the best thing for her. She had no choice." Now thoroughly intrigued, Shana waited for her grandmother to continue. "You can speak with Rourke. I'll ring him and you can meet him at the pub outside your hotel tonight, alright?" Shana nodded in reply, impatient to find out what the big secret was. "So, go on, you've told me so much about when you were younger, but not much of you as a woman!"  
  
She smiled, "Well, there's not much I can tell you. I work for the military and much of my work is classified," She saw the other woman purse her lips slightly at that, "but I'm very happy in my work, it feels good to be making a positive change in the world. No husband or children, but I don't have time for that. I'm on the road a lot."  
  
"Are you going to do that for the rest of your life then? What will you do when you leave the military?" Her eyes held motherly concern.  
  
"I'll teach or consult or just enjoy my retirement. I'm not afraid of being alone. Someday maybe I'll be more interested in a quiet life, but for now, I love the excitement." Shana's eyes sparkled with happiness.  
  
Cathleen just watched her for a long moment, then with a sad smile, "You really are just like your mother."   
  
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Shana had stayed for another pot of tea, then begged off for a while to take a nap before her meeting with Rourke. She wasn't sure who he was really, or what answers he would hold for her. Gramma wouldn't tell her anything more than the name Rourke, and she wasn't sure if it was a surname or a first name.   
  
As she drifted off to sleep, still wearing her clothes, she couldn't help but smile, she was like her mother, and her own grandmother had seen it. The familiar pain of loss of a mother she never truly had struck again deeply, and like so many times before, there were tears in her eyes as unconsciousness took her. 


	5. V

Author's Note:  
  
I just wanted to take a moment to bow a head for all of those that died 32 years ago today (1/30) in Derry, Northern Ireland. During a peaceful march to protest internment, modelled after one of Martin Luther King Jr.'s marches, 13 civilians were killed by british military forces. Internment was policy adopted by England the year previous which allowed for inprisonment without trial indefinitely. The USA also currently has this policy sadly, pushed through the Homeland Security Act. At least at the moment though, the US does not seem to be abusing it.  
  
Those who died that day were: John 'Jack' Duddy (17), shot unarmed while running away from the military. Patrick 'Pat' Doherty (31), shot from behind while crawling away from the shooting. Bernard 'Barney' McGuigan (41) shot while waving a white handkerchief, trying to help Pat Doherty. Hugh Gilmore (17) shot while fleeing. Kevin McElhinney (17) shot while crawling away. Michael Kelly (17) unarmed when shot. John Young (17) also unarmed. William Nash (19) unarmed and trying to aid the wounded when shot. Michael McDaid (20), unarmed and trying to leave the area. James Wray (22), wounded in the arm and then while lying paralyzed on the ground, shot point blank in the back. Gerald Donaghy (17) unarmed, shot while fleeing. Gerald McKinney (35) had his arms raised in surrender crying "Don't shoot!", trying to escape. William McKinney (26) (no relation) shot from behind while trying to assist Gerald McKinney.   
  
None of the soldiers were held accountable at the time, although Tony Blair has reopened an inquiry into the matter because of the irregular findings of the first inquiry. Several of these people had bullets enter through their tailbone and then exit through their shoulders as they tried to crawl to safety.   
  
This event and the government's reaction to it sadly only fueled the flames of sectarian violence and terrorism on both sides, and was the true start of the most recent Troubles in a troubled country. It was unnecessary death and sparked too much violence on both sides. As the song says for which this fic was named, "An eye for an eye, it was all that filled their minds, and another eye for another eye til everyone is blind." There are eyes remaining in Ireland and hopefully with the new inquiry into Bloody Sunday, both sides will come to terms with what happened and realize that violence is no longer needed and diplomacy can work.  
  
Thanks for indulging my rambling. On with the story.  
  
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"And you dare to call me a terrorist, while you look down your gun?" Wolfe Tones, "Ballad of Joe McDonnell"  
  
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Shana sat a few hours later, nursing a warm Guinness, waiting for the man named Rourke to approach her. Her grandmother seemed certain he would recognize her. Her eyes kept alert and she was careful to drink slowly, she didn't know what was in store for her, but she did know that she was in a foreign country with a history of violence and she seemed to be in a Republican bar.   
  
As she took another small sip, she heard a voice at her elbow, "You Shana?" The voice belonged to a man in his thirties with the ugly harsh accent of a Belfast native. He was dressed in faded pants, a polo style shirt and a knit cap. In some ways she was reminded of Shipwreck, though this man was much more stern and solemn than Shipwreck ever could be.   
  
She turned her head to face him fully, "Who is it that wants to know? You Rourke?" She kept her voice low and casual, watching his reaction.  
  
A slight smirk appeared, "Nah. He an' I go back though. I'm Donnell. I'm here to check you out though. Ya look a lot like the picture."   
  
Her eyebrow shot up, "Picture? What picture?" Although her face betrayed none of it, her mind was racing, trying to figure out when she had been tailed unaware and photographed. "Donnell ...? Or ...Donnell?" Her facial expressions punctuated the question.  
  
"Doesn't matter." He held forward a photograph, it was of her mother as a young woman, sitting on the lap of a man that was not her father, with people gathered around and seeming happy. "Though I must say, she looks a bit more up than you. Your gran said you looked like her."  
  
Shana resisted another frown, taking the photo into her hands. "May I keep this?"   
  
Donnell shrugged, "Take it up with Rourke. It's his. C'mon. Let's get out of here."   
  
She quickly slipped the photo into her breast pocket, holding up a hand, "Where is he? I'm not going along with a wild goose chase. Where do you want to go?"  
  
Donnell let out a sigh of annoyance, "It's not a wild goose chase, it's just a little quieter. It's a little shop just up the road. C'mon then."   
  
Suspicious eyes scanned the crowd. If Rourke was out there, she wouldn't know it. She was also fairly confident that she could take down this man in a fight, but always better to avoid one. It was a gamble either way and she decided that her Gran wouldn't have sent her if it was dangerous. She nodded and motioned for him to lead the way.   
  
He led her out of the pub, her Guinness abandoned. Motioning to a car parked out front, he opened a door for her. Shana shook her head, "No cars. We can walk."  
  
The annoyed look returned to Donnell's face and he grimaced. "Fine, but if you have any weapons, you'd best leave them here now. Knives, guns, explosives." He waited expectantly, opening up the boot of the car.   
  
She arched another eyebrow at the man, "Why would you think I was carrying any of those?"  
  
He shrugged, "SOP. That and it's a bit warm for a jacket and the leg of your pants hangs differently on the left." He glared at her, waiting for her to unload. She was a bit surprised, most people didn't notice that she ever had weapons on her, especially those who don't know her.   
  
Immediately she took off the knife strapped to her calf, handing it over. Casting a glance around and moving outside of the light of the streetlamps, she removed her gun from its holster and took out the clip and showed him that the chamber was empty. "You can keep my ammo, you can keep the firing pin, but the rest of it belongs to me and I will not let it out of my possession." Her voice dared him to challenge her.  
  
He grumbled, taking the clip and the firing pin that she offered. He had the idea with the speed in which she was able to do that, this was the best he would get. Most trained professionals get attached to their primary gun. He wondered what she did for a living, eying her cautiously as she reholstered her gun. "Police or military?"  
  
She shrugged, "Doesn't matter. I just want to speak with Rourke."  
  
An argument to that sprung to his mind, but decided to let it go. If Rourke wanted to cut her loose, he could. "Fine there. Let's go."  
  
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A short while later she was led into what appeared to be a closed cafe. But in the back there was a small living area and sitting at the table with a cup of tea was a man that she guessed was Rourke. He strongly resembled the man that held her mother in the old photo. Without a word, she sat across from him. Donnell moved out of the room, allowing them some privacy.  
  
Rourke's face had a small smile on it, "YOu look a lot like your mother, Shana."  
  
She nodded a little, "I've been hearing that a lot lately. You are Rourke I take it?" She watched him, waiting for confirmation.   
  
He nodded his head in response, "Your gran said you were looking for information about your ma." He watched her carefully as he spoke, "What do you know about her already?"  
  
"I know of her life after she moved to the US. Gran," She inadvertantly picked up the man's way of referring to her grandmother, "told me about her childhood and growing up. But no one would talk to me about what caused her and my father to cut off all ties and move to the U.S."   
  
A sigh, "And she sent you to me. Alright. Where to begin with this." He leaned back in his chair pensively, "Your ma and I grew up together; my family lived just a couple doors down. We had always been close. When we got older, we went out and everyone thought we'd eventually get married." He paused, sipping his tea.  
  
"What happened?" Shana was intrigued by this story so far.  
  
"Didi -"  
  
"Didi?" Shana interrupted suddenly with a smile, "I've never heard her called Didi before."  
  
Rourke smiled in return, "It's what I called her. She hated it and would only put up with it from me," he chuckled, then turned more serious, "We were passionate about things." He seemed reticent about continuing, not sure how the woman before him would take the news or what her political leanings were, "We were young Irish Catholics during a time when it wasn't legal to be that. We felt strongly that things were wrong up here and there weren't many legal ways to change them."  
  
The color drained from Shana's face and her stomach flipped over uneasily. She could see where he was leading her and the rest of the security that came around this meeting. Her voice was a dry rasp, "My mother was a terrorist?"  
  
Rourke's eyes blazed and he slapped the table angrily, "No! She was a freedom fighter! She was fighting for civil rights and her life and country!"  
  
Now Shana's anger began to rise, "No! You are all terrorists, don't pretty it up with fancy words!" She stood up.  
  
"You tell me then what's the difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter? What makes us different than you Americans when you fought against England? They are on OUR soil. They were and are oppressing us! Back then they did the same to your country and you fought against it. You didn't have official armies or uniforms, you hid and you killed when you were able! It is the only way to win a war against a larger opponent!" His voice was strong with anger and held her where she stood, listening to his words.  
  
"There is no war though." Her voice was no longer so angry, an element of confusion entering the tone.  
  
"Says who? England? Of course they say there is no war! That way they don't have to follow the Geneva Convention! It isn't to their benefit to admit that there is or was a war. Now sit down and think about this with me."   
  
She sat, feeling disconnected and slightly ill. She had devoted her life to fighting terrorism, and her own mother was a terrorist. Or freedom-fighter. Did it really matter what it was called? She wasn't sure.   
  
"Alright. Now there's a lot of misinformation that is out there. But both sides had unofficial armies and paramilitary groups, Unionists and Republicans both. I won't say that no civilians were killed, but sometimes collateral damage happens. But it was our only option. We were given no other way out of the mess we were in, we still do not have equal rights under the law here as Catholics. No one even would speak with us until we made it so they had to listen. That's how the lower 26 got their freedom. We're still fighting a war they gave up on though." He ran his hand through his silvery hair, "We don't like killing people Shana. But sometimes it must be done."  
  
Silence reigned for a moment, she couldn't deny many of his words, then finally managed, "But now they listen, now they want to talk and are willing to change and you still are killing."  
  
"Some are, I am not. My men and I honor the Good Friday Accord and ceasefire. Not everyone involved cares about this country, we also draw in those who just want an excuse to kill people and when they gather together, it's hard to control them sometimes."  
  
She nodded a little, knowing it could be like that in the military too. She kept trying to wrap her mind around the concept that her mother, if she were still alive, would be deeply ashamed of her daughter's work. She thought of Cobra, doubt over what she was doing in her life washed over her. What made a cause justifiable? Could she be certain no civilians were never harmed as collateral damage from their side? What seperated them from Cobra? These questions swirled uneasily in her mind as she continued to listen.  
  
"But for us, back then, it was really about just trying to be heard and win our freedom. As well as just staying alive. The Protestant paramilitary was killing Catholics left and right and we had to protect ourselves if the corrupt government wouldn't."  
  
Shana nodded mutely. Rourke could see the conflicting emotions playing across her face and felt pity for her. He had found most Americans either felt that the IRA was totally in the wrong or totally in the right and had a hard time adjusting to the shades of grey. He reached out and patted her hand lightly in a fatherly gesture, "I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to hear about your Ma. But it is the truth."  
  
Finally finding her voice, she questioned him, "So what changed? Why did she leave all of it?"  
  
"Your Da." A note of bitterness was in the other man's voice. "We were hiding out in Drogheda after a mission and she met him in a pub. He convinced her that this was going to get her killed and that he didn't approve. She said she was in love, they got married here, and when she came up pregnant not too long after, he insisted they were going to leave the country and cut all ties." The anger bubbled to the top again, "And she did it. She left and we had no idea where she went. We didn't even know she died until years after the fact! And your poor gran, she missed Didi so much and wished she could meet you kids but she was denied that!"  
  
Shana quickly came to the defense of her father, "He wanted to do what was right for them and to keep her safe! He wanted a good life for his children."  
  
Rourke's anger faded again, "I suppose you are right. But it still hurt like hell. We all missed her terribly after she was gone." Grief took the forefront as the man thought of his lost love. "Missed her more than she would ever know." He looked away, trying to hide his pain, and when he turned back, the gruff exterior was back. "Any more you want to know Shana?" His tone clearly indicated that he wanted this conversation to be done.  
  
She shook her head, "I can't think of anything right now. Can I contact you if I want to talk again?"   
  
A curt nod, "Leave a note with the pub where you met Donnell. Be sure to leave a number I can ring."   
  
"Thank you Rourke." She couldn't think of anything else to say, so she just turned and left. Donnell matched her pace as she walked out. "Thank you for taking me." Her voice was quiet and reflective, she had so much to digest now and all the pieces of information she had from her childhood began to fall into place. She wondered where this left her, how she could continue on as she did before, knowing what she did now.   
  
Donnell wisely stayed silent during the walk back and when they arrived back at the car, he handed her back her knife, clip and firing pin. "Stay safe out there Shana. Come back here if you are ever in any trouble."  
  
She expertly replaced the pin and clip, reholstering the gun and strapping the knife back to her calf, "I can handle any trouble that comes my way." She strode off into the night to return to her hotel and continue examining the night's events and maybe call her father. 


	6. VI

Woooo! I finished a story that wasn't a one shot! Go me :) Thanks for those who stuck with me and read through the whole thing!   
  
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"There's more than one answer to these questions, pointing me in a crooked line, and the less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine." Indigo Girls - Closer to Fine  
  
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Scarlett undressed, kicking her boots off as she returned to her room. What a day, she was still reeling from the news that her mother was a terrorist. How could they even be related and how could she deal with that? How was it that such a staunch anti-terrorist could be spawned from such dark stock? She rubbed her eyes, looking at the clock and mentally calculating the time on the east coast, then placing a call to her father.  
  
"Da? It's me."  
  
"Shana, good to hear your voice. Everything ok?" He picked up on the odd tone of her voice quickly. He was after all, her father.  
  
"I met with Gran today. She is a lovely woman," her voice was neutral for now as she spoke.  
  
"That she is. I'm sorry that you are just getting to meet her," he really did sound apologetic.  
  
There was a long silence, then she spoke again, "I also met Rourke today."  
  
She could hear her father take a deep breath, "Didn't take you long, did it?"  
  
"Why didn't you ever tell us the truth about Mom? We had a right to know!" Now Shana was accusing and upset.  
  
"You didn't need to know Shana," he was firm and calm, "That was her past and you wouldn't have understood back then."  
  
"I don't understand now! How could she do that? She is everything I fight against in the world!" She paced around her room, trying to keep her voice low but struggling with it. She looked in the mirror seeing herself with the cell phone, so much like her mother in so many ways. That used to make her proud. But now...all she felt was disgust.   
  
"Calm down Shana. Please."   
  
She took a deep breath, "I'm calm. As calm as I'm going to get."   
  
"I know this is hard for you. I'm sorry. It just...the longer and longer I went without telling you and the boys, the harder it was to do, for you especially. I know you are involved with the military fighting against terrorists."  
  
"Yeah Da. I am. And it's important to me. And this Rourke guy. He's acting like all terrorists are just fighting for their freedom!"  
  
"Is that what he really said? Or what you heard?" She could hear the frustration in his voice, "Look, there's no love lost between Rourke and I. Especially when it came to your mother. And God knows we disagreed on politics. What I'm saying is: Shana, your mother wasn't a terrorist. She was a member of an army, fighting a war. I disagreed with how the war was going and it isn't safe for a mother to be on the front lines."  
  
"But Da, it was never a war."  
  
"Says who? It was, just some didn't want to admit it. It was different up there than it was down in the Republic. What I'm saying is that not all people who fight against the established government are terrorists. And not all people who organize into an army have valid reasons and should be venerated. You know the world is rarely black and white, and this is one of those things that falls clearly into gray. Make up your own mind Shana."  
  
She rubbed her forehead tiredly. "I don't know what to think Da. It's like everything I know to be true has been flipped around."  
  
"No it hasn't hon, it's just a different point of view. Don't make it more difficult than it has to be."  
  
"Alright. I need to get to sleep. I love you Da." She just wanted to close her eyes and forget this day had happened.  
  
"I love you too Shana, and so did your Ma. Sleep tight."  
  
Shana hung up the phone and suddenly felt very alone there in Ireland. She didn't belong to this world and she shouldn't be consorting with terrorists. She thought of calling Jaye, but instead laid her head down and tried to get some sleep, hoping things looked better in the morning.  
  
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Shana awoke the next morning, her soul feeling as refreshed as her body. She got up, showered, had breakfast and decided to take a walk around Belfast. She wanted to get a better feel for the city her mother had grown up in. She began in the city, seeing the dirt and age that was absent from so many American cities. She could smell the diesel cars, the underlying scent of green that was also missing from many American cities.   
  
She passed through areas that looked clean an immaculate, but more poignant were the areas that had been vandalized. "Saoirse", which she knew meant 'freedom', "SS RUC", "Kill all taigs" and many others, all horrible and divisive, in some state of being removed. It was clear though that no matter how quickly they worked to clean it up, it was being replaced just as quickly. She saw the bullet fragments and the devastation caused by different bombs and shootings and was struck by how violent this city could be, and yet the people were still trudging through their day, mostly without fear.  
  
She sat in a pub later that day, ignoring the stares from the 'good ole boys' that were suspicious of some woman coming into their haven. She sipped slowly at a glass of Jameson's, enjoying the smooth feel. She didn't look up as she felt someone sit down next to her and speak, "Enjoying your day?" It was Donnell again.  
  
She turned to eye him suspiciously, "Have you been following me?" She was bothered by the fact he had been doing it, but more so because she hadn't noticed it. She had been too caught up in her own little world that she hadn't been paying enough attention to her surroundings. No excuse for that; she had been trained to be better than that.  
  
He shrugged, "Just making sure you didn't get into any trouble." He caught the incredulous look from her and continued, "Rourke just asked that I keep an eye out."   
  
"Thanks, but I really don't need it." She wasn't sure how she felt about him watching out for her. She wasn't sure how she felt about anything anymore.  
  
"You keep walking around in the neighborhoods you were visiting and you will. Don't be offended, just accept it as a friendly gesture." He shrugged and drank some of his Guinness.  
  
She sighed, "I don't have much choice do I?" Her eyes returned to the whiskey as she raised it to her lips again. "How did you get involved in it?" Her voice was quiet and she didn't look at him.  
  
"Does it matter? I saw injustice and I wanted to fix it. I couldn't do it legally, so I had no other choice."  
  
"But killing people?" She turned to look at him and he met her eyes squarely.  
  
"Somehow I doubt someone who handles a gun like you do is that far from killing herself." His tone was amiable and non-accusatory and she had to admit his words held some truth. "I've made mistakes in my life, but I do think I'm doing a good thing. Can you say the same?"  
  
"Yeah, I can actually." She believed it too, she knew she was doing good by fighting Cobra.  
  
"Then nothing else matters. You can't control the world, only yourself."   
  
She smirked and took another sip of whiskey. "You're pretty wise for your age. Thanks."  
  
He chuckled, "Good lookin' too." He winked at her, "Feeling better?"  
  
She smiled slowly, "I'm getting there." And Shana knew it was true, she knew that no matter the conflict, her mom was following her heart, just like she was and even if her mom was wrong, there was nothing she could do to change it now. All she could do was make peace with her own life and do the best she could. She held up her whiskey glass to heaven and toasted her mom, "I love you Ma." She finished her whiskey and thought that maybe being thirty-five wouldn't be so bad after all. 


End file.

G. I. Joe, Angst