Thief of Hearts

Chapter 1

His scent still lingered on her skin, exploding softly in her memory like a landmine. Normally she had the means of disciplining her mind, but he persisted in her thoughts. He wouldn't be shunted aside. Dr. Miranda Ford fitted into her life perfectly. She somehow managed to have it all; powerhouse career, successful husband, accomplished kids. She was focused, driven and brilliant. She led a charmed life, until today. In the business of giving advice, now she was in need of it. Always so certain, here she was riddled with doubt. It was years since she trained under Samuel Tanner. He helped her through the darkest period of her life, and was the only person she completely trusted. She was grateful he could see her on such short notice.

Sam was that rare find in a psychoanalyst, disciplined, creative and unabashedly in love with the anarchy that was the human mind. Totally his own man, he managed to stay off the radar of all but the fortunate few who could really benefit from the cure. His was a world away from the rich and powerful clientele she treated. The worried well needed help too, and she had become their specialist. When Neal Caffrey showed up on her doorstep, she thought he would be a welcomed change of pace.

"So, what do we know about your convict?" Sam said settling into his chair.

"Ex convict," she said, immediately regretting the defensiveness in her voice.

"So much for neutrality," he smiled.

"Damn it, Sam. Are you going to help or not? And by the way, when did you become so judgmental?"

"When you decided to throw away everything you've worked so hard to build and everything I taught you, kiddo. You know this has to end. What were you expecting out of this conversation?"

She paled slightly, averting his gaze. Her thoughts carried her back to earlier in the day. Waves of his tender touch and affection rolling over her, one after another, after another, after another. What was she doing? Of all people she should know better. She was no smitten school girl, yet even now he invaded her thoughts as easily as he had her body.

"You are not going to tell me you love him, are you?

"I...I don't know."

"Does Simon know?"

"Why? You never liked Simon."

"I never liked Simon for you."

"We've made a life together, it's not perfect... I know. He adores the twins and he's been good to me, maybe too good. I think he tries to make up for my… ," her voice wavered.

"Not loving him," Sam finished her sentence.

"So, now you're a marriage counselor too." she retorted.

"I don't have to be, to see you're in trouble. So then, let's dispense with the usual suspects for bedding a patient: rescue fantasies, unresolved transference, troubled marriage."

"That's so easy Sam; you think I didn't think of all that."

"What's easy is sleeping with a patient, giving into your own needs, violating a trust under the pretense of treatment. Playing God is easy. Honestly Miranda, did you think you were saving him?"

Nothing he could say she thought would be worse than what she already felt, yet hearing him say it out loud was devastating. She felt ill with shame and the weight of what she had done.

"I think it's the other way around, I think he might be saving me," her eyes tingled with tears.

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair, surprised by the intensity of his disapproval. He had seen Miranda cry only once, the night her patient died 15 years ago. From the look in her eyes, he knew this would be a long night. He drew in a deep breath and slowly blew it out.

"So, let's talk about Neal Caffrey. I read the file on him you sent me. IQ of 180, eidetic memory, consummate forger, convicted of bond theft, recent loss of longtime relationship, some question of PTSD. Did I miss anything? I see the referring psychiatrist was a student of yours."

"Yeah, Susan Donahue. She consults with the FBI and saw Neal for a few sessions before going out on maternity leave. She processed him for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but felt there was more to his story. She liked him. Thought he needed more work and someone with more experience than the FBI had on board. I owed her a favor."

"That was one hell of a favor. The FBI springing for psychoanalysis, and no less for a junior consultant and convicted felon. It appears Mr. Caffrey has a way of getting people to care about him. It says in here the agent who arrested him twice, a Peter Burke, worked a deal to get him out of a 4 year prison sentence on some kind of work release. It seems your Neal Caffrey is a thief of hearts as well," Sam said with a wry smile.

It was the first time that night she had agreed with him.

"Susan has worked with a number of prisoners during her time at the FBI. She believes almost 90% have a history of childhood sexual or physical abuse. She thought Neal may have suffered similar problems in his childhood. After working together, I just don't see that in him. Forgeries or not, he has created some of the most beautiful pieces of art I have ever seen. It's hard to believe that kind of beauty could arise from the ruins of a childhood like that."

"Well, from what I have seen of his work it doesn't fit either." As Sam leafed through the file Miranda sent him, he seemed intrigued and puzzled. "Someone capable of creating beauty such as this and eliciting such care and concern in you, would most likely not have had that kind of soul crushing experience."

"But you know very well, people with damaged childhoods are capable of tremendous compartmentalization, they can create mental walls to hold in just about anything. I know there's something he's holding back from me. I need to know what kind of damage I am working with. If it's not abuse then what?"

"Miranda, you know the theory as well as I do, maybe better. I ought to know, I taught you. Why are you really here?"

"Because I trust you and right now I don't really trust myself."

"Could it be that you aren't sure if you can really trust Neal Caffrey either? It seems to me, what you really want to know is; can he love, is he capable of it."

Is loving unreasonably any better, she thought.

"Love is a process, it's a reciprocal process between us and those loving us. In that process, we learn to care about others, to truly value others. If it is short circuited or absent early on, it has profound consequences for a persons ability to trust, but you know that too. Why don't you trust what you know?"

"This isn't about me Sam."

"The hell it's not. You can't see this man clearly because he's too close to you and I don't mean physically. When you look at him you see yourself. OK, let's say Mr. Caffrey is repressing something, and that something is driving his behavior. Or worst case scenario, he has an undeveloped sense of conscience because of identifications stemming from a brutalized past. In any event, then you have to get him to uncover it. He has to trust you enough to let you in, and that's going to be complicated because of your relationship now. Can you be objective? You were ready to bite off my head at just the mention of his being a convicted felon".

"I wondered when we would get back to that."

"Facts are stubborn things, Miranda. Fact is, he is a criminal and a con man."

How could the man who had held her with such tenderness be capable of such deceit and duplicity, she thought. Had it all been an elaborate con? Now her tears began to fall in earnest.

"Miranda, what is it?" Sam said in a hushed tone.

"Sam, Neal was arrested earlier tonight for theft of the Degas."