Diamond in the Rough

He quickly packs a few things into a black sports bag, one similar to what he had been using in the robberies, his scalp around the stitches burning. He takes a couple changes of clothes and throws them into the bag, his toiletries that he kept in his room. His ribs are screaming at him to stop moving.
Determined, he continues and looks down at the gun in his hand.

"Jem...."Krista slurs as she steps over the threshold of his bedroom door.

"Yeah?" He asks, still filling the bag.

Her make-up caked eyes watch his every move in slow motion, stoned and spaced out.

"Do you have any stuff?" She whines. He turns round and notices that she's already had too much and it's only the early afternoon.

"Where's Shyne?" He asks.

"At the neighbours. I just need to chill out for a while. You've always got a bit of stuff"

Jem nods to her and rifles through an old shoebox on the top shelf of his closet. He throws her a couple of baggies, some shit coke he had got, but never had the heart to throw away.

Krista conceals the baggies down the front of her bra, whether it's for safety or so she remembers what she's done with them. She continues to watch him as he holds the silver gun in his hand.

"You going to another job?" She asks curiously. She is partly the reason why he is robbing banks in the first place. He's trying to look after her, but stay out of her life. It's too messy for him.

"Naw." He replies, tucking the gun into the waistband of his track pants. When he gets to Fiona's he'll need to hide it from her.

"Doug told me what happened. You okay?"

"I will be" he says and zips up his bag. He knows exactly what he's going to do when he see's Alex Colazzo and his three buddies. He's going to make them wish they had never been born or fucked with him.
"You still banging that lawyer?"

"Yeah" he says as she claps her hands. He gives her a funny look and then she starts laughing.

"Who ever knew that Jem Coughlin would go on hands and knees to some stuck-up bitch in a suit"

Jem's eyes harden on his younger sister.

"She must have some hold on your balls" Krista jeers at him, laughing.

His temper starts to bubble, the muscles in his throat clenching involuntary which sends a searing pain through his face.

"Get outta my face, Kris" he grabs his bag, his ribs throbbing as he pushes his way past her.

As predicted she follows him outside to Fiona's car, screaming obscenities at him. If it wasn't for his jaw he would have dragged her back inside and given her a slap, it wouldn't have been the first time and it certainly wouldn't have been the last. He throws his bag into the back-seat and swears under his breath as Fiona pulls away from the only home he had ever truly lived in except Walpole. Fiona looks at the bag in the rear-view and wonders how long exactly Jem Is planning on staying with her.

She fixes him a non-alcoholic drink and sets it down on the table. He looks at it as if it's a foreign object, something completely alien to him.

"I did tell you no alcohol"she reminds him as she turns to simmering pot on the stove.

He watches through his unbruised eye her as she brings the wooden spoon to her lips, tasting and then reaching for the pot of pepper.

"Thanks for letting me stay" he says, quickly wiping away his chin and corner of his mouth. He can manage to say a few words, but bigger sentences end up garbled and it just makes his face ache.

She puts down a bowl of soup down in front of him. She watches him as he tries to cool the soup and eat it without making a mess. He only manages a few mouthfuls before giving up.

"Krista seemed pretty mad at you earlier" she says.

"She'll get over it" he replies curtly.

"Were you always so distant?"

Jem thinks about it for a second a gently rubs the side of his head of his throbbing head. When he moves his neck he's sure he can feel the bone grating, the skin pulling.
He nods and runs his hand over his head, his short buzzed in sandy hair bouncing back into shape with the amount of gel.

Fiona watches him closely and notices his change in mood.

"Since our old man died" he says with difficulty. His jaw is really starting to fucking hurt.

"What happened to him?"

She, like everyone else had heard the stories, how Coughlin senior was way out of his depth and was shot over a deal. Jem looks down at the table top and traces his finger along the table cloth pattern.

"Long story"

"Maybe one day I could hear it" she gives his shoulder a quick squeeze and loads the dishes into the sink.

Jem watches her from behind. The last time he had visited Stephen MaCray he had been eager for young Coughlin to prove himself, to prove he was smarter than his old man. He knows he's different around Fiona, he feels normal. He feels like he's floating on air and doesn't need to be aggressive or what he's like with Doug and the boys. He feels he doesn't need to be that person when he's with her and maybe this is who he really is after years of being expected to be a badass.
Maybe Jem Coughlin's found his place in this world.