Chapter Two -- To Steal a Life

Chapter Two -- To Steal a Life

An old Chinese proverb warns, "Those who steal have guilty hearts."  Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I can tell you that when stealing innocent hearts, it's best to rely on the words of Dickens, "It's immoral to steal, but you can take things."

Three things were essential to Darien's scheme:  Time, money and Claire.  Time he had plenty of, not so with the money, but there were ways to handle that.  Truthfully, of the three, he'd thought Claire would be the hardest to come by.  

He'd had unexpected help with that though -- both Kevin's and Bobby's.  Apparently Claire and Kevin had been lovers in graduate school.  Darien hadn't known, of course.  He'd been in prison at the time, and Kevin had cut off all contact with him.  Out of sight, out of mind, he'd supposed. 

Bobby had found out about the affair when Kevin's memories had returned in Darien's body.  He'd blurted it out to Darien one day when he'd been late with his meds and Darien had been teasing him about his growing crush on Claire.  It was just the key Darien had been looking for.

After that revelation, Darien had made sure to nonchalantly play up what few commonalities he did share with Kevin. You can't grow up with someone without internalizing some of their idiosyncrasies, he'd rationalized.  Not that he'd ever go the whole peanut-butter-and-bologna route, but he'd had enough experience as a professional con man to know that it's the small details that sell the scam -- a little less smartass attitude, a little more genuine curiosity in her experiments, a subtle softening of his tone when he said her name.

Of course, it had helped that she'd been fond of him already and that she'd seen Kevin inhabit his body during their mRNA experiment.  She might even have come to love him on her own if he hadn't been loading the dice.  As it was, it hadn't taken very long at all before she'd begun lingering a bit too long in his friendly embraces or staring just a touch too intently into his eyes when she was giving him his shot.  She'd only put up token resistance when he'd begun stealing small kisses at odd moments.

It was raining lightly the night he'd gone to her house.  Unusual weather for San Diego, but a very appropriate deja vu of the last time he'd stood in the rain asking for her help.  Before this night was through, however, he'd planned on taking more than just her help.

Dressed in his thief's black, he'd walked up to her door and quietly picked the lock.  The street was deserted, so he hadn't bothered to quicksilver.  Besides, he'd known she found him particularly appealing when slightly bedraggled.  Stepping inside, he'd disabled her security system without breaking a sweat.  These residential systems were little more than souped-up remote controls for the most part and he'd had plenty of experience besting them during his time as a cat burglar.

The house had been dark, except for a light coming from the bedroom upstairs.  He'd started up and was met halfway by Pavlov.  He'd reached down and patted the dog to quiet him, then continued his ascent.  At the top of the stairs he'd stopped, leaning against one side of the doorway, and looked at the sight set out before him.  There was Claire, lying on a couch, eyes closed, book open on her lap.  She'd been a veritable sleeping beauty, clothed in a cream satin nightgown, just begging to be woken.

For a moment, Darien had hesitated.  He'd liked Claire, he really had, but he'd held no illusions about his being her Prince Charming.  There'd been another man in line for that role -- Bobby Hobbes, his partner, his friend.  To follow through on his plan, he would have to betray them both.  Perhaps, if he tried, he might be able to make it up to Claire, but Hobbes would be lost to him forever.  That thought had stung him deeply, but dammit, he'd needed her.  He'd needed her to help him before he lost himself forever.

So he'd stepped inside the room.  Removing his gloves, he'd walked casually over to the CD player.  Seeing its lights still on, he'd pushed a few random buttons until the low sound of some smooth jazz filled the room.  Claire had stirred, spilling her book on the floor.  She'd blinked her eyes once, twice, before they'd settled on him as he'd turned and smiled softly at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, I see.   And you thought you'd just break in here and steal something?"

"Umm, yeah, that sounds about right."  He'd cocked an eyebrow and outright grinned at her.

"And just exactly what were you thinking about stealing?  My stereo system, my jewelry, my..."

"Oh no, something much, much better," he'd said, bending to pick up the book she'd dropped.

"Really?  What?"

"Your virtue."  With that he'd leaned in and kissed her.  As he'd felt her arms slide up and around his neck, he'd known he'd won.

After that, they'd become lovers.  In secret, of course.  He'd pretended to be convinced by her argument that the Official would have separated them -- fishing off the company pier and all -- as well as to spare Hobbes' feelings.  In reality, it simply wouldn't have suited his plans for anyone to find out.  He'd needed for everything to appear normal until the time was right to make his move.