Chapter 6
Neal woke with an unearthly feeling of contentment, nestled in the warm contours of Miranda's body. He put his arms about her so that he was laying across her body, and whispered "Say you love me, just a little." He felt her body tense beneath him.
"Hey, are you Ok?
"Neal, what are we doing?" she said looking into eyes.
"Having mind altering sex?" he smiled.
"I am serious," she said. He knew that tone well, it always preceded some challenge to his hard won perception of reality. He rolled over and pushed himself up to the top of the bed, laid his head against the board and let out a deep breath.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm just... her voiice wavering. I'm a married woman and you're my patient."
"You're naked and I'm naked. I think we are way past doctor patient relationship here. Is it Simon?"
"Yes, no... I...it's complicated."
"Go on, he said acknowledging her surprise at the purloined phrase. He quickly offered "It's a little something I picked up in therapy to move the process along." He saw a small smile come across her face and it eased the anxiety creeping into his chest.
"Neal, you and me, that changes everything. I'm not in love with Simon. I'm not sure if I've ever been in love with him. If he loves me, it's the idea of me he loves. He doesn't know me."
"Then he doesn't deserve you."
"To be fair, I'm not the easiest person to get to know. When my patient Charlie, the one you investigated, committed suicide; Simon was there for me. He loves being in control, taking charge and fixing things and I so desperately needed things to be fixed. It was so easy depending on him."
"What happened to Charlie?"
"He was just a kid. He had gotten into some trouble and had a juvenile record. I was finishing up my child and adolescent fellowship, and freshly assigned to the youth center. The guy who ran it was an ass, but I needed a good recommendation to keep my "flawless" record intact. So, I kept my nose to the grindstone, basically avoiding him and doing what it took. He despised those kids. Charlie presented with a bucketful of incoherent symptoms, clearly things he made up, but I could see how scared he was. I thought he was being abused by some of the older, harder kids; victims creating more victims."
She sighed and fell silent for a long time. Neal gently squeezed her shoulder, and waited for her to find the right moment to go on.
"Dr. Harold thought he was faking. Of course he was faking, it was plain to anyone who wanted to take the time. I asked if we could have him transferred off the unit, for more evaluation. Thought if I could get him alone, he might open up to me and tell me what was going on with him. Harold wouldn't hear of it, accused me of wasting the state and taxpayer's money. I should have put up more of a fight, been a real advocate for Charlie, but in the end I was more preoccupied with my career. A week later we got the news; Charlie had hanged himself in the showers."
"It wasn't your fault Miranda, you were trying to help him." he said softly.
"I know that now, but it stays with me, you know. I got into therapy shortly after that and it saved me. It was about the time I met Simon. He was already successful, in a world that was so removed from mine. He built all of this for me, the practice, the clients; I owe him so much."
Neal was silent, his eyes closed as he listened.
"I am sorry to go on like this, Neal. I am sure this isn't what you had in mind when you invited me for lunch."
"It is actually, I want to know you. It's just that I could have been Charlie. After Jack started the Naval Academy, Mr. Brewer was my primary guardian. I didn't help him much. I got tossed out of every boarding school on the east coast and a few abroad too. Mr. Brewer invested most of my parent's estate in the market and a big chunk in a little company called Enron. When everything crashed and went to hell, most of the estate was lost. I don't think he ever forgave himself, he was my dad's best friend and promised he would take care of me and Jack after the car crash. He died a year later, probably from grief."
Miranda pushed up closer to Neal, so that she was siting next to him, their shoulders touching.
"I moved around from relative to relative, when the money was exhausted I ended up in foster care. Not being the charming fellow I am today, I didn't make it through most of my placements. When I was sixteen, I got emancipated from the state, and well the rest is history."
"Were you ever in juvenile detention?"
"No, I was lucky. The first time I went to jail, was when Peter caught me. Peter was my longest running relationship. It's ironic, no one since Jack or Mr. Brewer had ever taken that much interest in me, too bad it was for all the wrong reasons."
"Neal, I am so sorry you were so alone, for so long."
"It doesn't have to be that way now," he said gently placing his hand on hers.
"You deserve so much more," she said moving her hand away. He could see the pain in her eyes.
"I have what I want. Don't do this Miranda, he said his eyes searching hers. Tell me you don't feel the same way I feel?"
She couldn't bring herself to look at him, afraid of what her answer would be.
"Neal, I have to go. Simon is coming in tonight and I promised I'd pick him up at the airport.
"Promise me, you won't make any decisions until we talk," he said.
"I promise."
() () ()
Neal had been trying to reach Peter for thirty minutes now, his messages going straight to voice mail. This was so unlike Peter, he was worried. However, he was glad for a distraction from the turmoil he felt with Miranda. Glad to be home, he opened the door to his apartment. He was taken a back by the familiar figure standing in his living room.
"Peter, what are you doing here?" he hadn't noticed the near panic on his friend's face.
"Neal, where were you?"
"I was... not wanting to go into the details of his relationship with Miranda just yet, he hesitated momentarily.
"Don't, don't do this Neal. Listen, we only have a few minutes before the Marshals arrive. Did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Neal, this is not the time."
"Peter, I don't know what you are talking about. You're scaring me."
"You should be scared. Simon Channing filed a complaint with the NYPD earlier today. It says you stole a painting from his wife's office, along with several other pieces from the Channing Museum.
"What!" Peter, I didn't do this."
"OK, I'm going to trust that your telling me the truth on this, Hughes has pulled some strings until we can get to the bottom of this. But for right now, your under the jurisdiction of NYPD., until the paper work clears and we get you back under the Bureau's..." Before he could finish, Neal's door was thrown open and a swarm of armed policeman burst in.
"Neal Caffrey, you are under arrest."
() () ()
Miranda's heart was racing and her mouth dry as sand. She felt claustrophobic, as if all the fears, pain and emotion of every single person who sat in that office before her were crammed into that space, pressing on her, squeezing the air out of her lungs. She told herself, breathe.
"Miranda, are you alright. Would you like a glass of water?" Sam said with obvious concern.
"I'll be Ok, thanks Sam."
"Do you think he stole the painting?"
"I don't know what to think, I can't think. I've always relied on my mind, been so afraid to follow my heart. My mind tells me it's possible. He's done things, broken the law. He's had tremendous loss, he spent a lifetime concealing himself, putting up firewalls to protect himself. You know better than anyone, the capacity the human mind has to compartmentalize. Could Neal Caffrey have stolen the Degas and crafted and elaborate con job, my mind tells me yes. But, my heart won't let me believe it."
"Miranda, if there's anything this work shows us, it's that you can't separate your heart from your mind, none of us can and hope to be whole. You believe in Neal Caffrey and I believe in you. The only way to know what's in his heart and in his mind kiddo, is to help him make the connection. He needs you to help him uncover whatever it is he is feeling, then he will know and so will you. You have a gift. If you truly want to help, be his psychiatrist."
