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Fic: Let It Go Free
Title: Let It Go Free
Characters (Pairings): Rachel Turner, Neal Caffrey (Rachel/Neal)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 768
Spoilers: Through to 5x11 - Shot Through The Heart.
Content Notes: Multiple references to painplay.
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: Rachel feels Neal drift away.
Author's Note: Panel Two of the This Love triptych. Something of a timestamp to the metal wraps itself around your bones. This can be read as a stand alone. For the 'learning to be loved' square on my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo card. Title from Taylor Swift's This Love.
Rachel feels Neal drift away.
He's becoming happier, and that's a good thing, but it doesn't feel like it. Because when he's not happy, he understands her. He can look into her eyes and know how it feels to be her - it never stops hurting, but she's become damn good at spreading it around.
Maybe she made him carry that burden.
One time, they come together, and she thinks it's going to be the usual, wonders how far she'll push him tonight, when he touches her face and whispers, "Let me try something."
She lets him. It feels like fair trade.
Right up until he holds her like she's precious (she isn't, she's killed people, and he knows that, knows that she can still kill in a heartbeat) and kisses her gently. Kisses her like she's Rebecca Lowe.
He can't be pretending it's Rebecca. She kept her hair black, dyed it more permanently, she doesn't resemble her in the least.
He's holding Rachel, and kissing her like she matters.
It feels criminal.
She pushes him away, purposely aiming for a bruise she left. With one swipe of her leg, his are swept out from under him, he's flat in bed, held down by her hands, faster than he can blink, and she wants to hurt him for making her feel like that, but all she can do is look into his eyes, listen to his frantic heartbeat, and curl up into his side, breathing in a way that mimics crying a little too closely for her liking.
He doesn't hurt her like she would've hurt him. He pulls her closer, makes her feel warm, and it's so much worse but feels so much better.
He's going to break her.
She's getting used to this gentility. Even though she doesn't understand it.
She gave herself permission to let go of him after that first kiss, was ready to leave him behind, just had to grab a bag and leave. But then she remembered how it feels to hold and be held so tenderly, it feels like a gift, and she's utterly confused at it. She doesn't leave new bruises behind as oftena s she used to. Usually, she just plays with the ones that are already there, toying with them, soothing them, walking a much gentler line of pain and pleasure than she's familiar with.
She still feels most like herself when she's leaving bruises, though. And that probably isn't going to change.
Maybe she doesn't know herself as well as she thought.
Because she does get used to this new pattern. Bruise and soothe, hurt and comfort. She doesn't feel so distant from who she used to be that she's lost touch, but she's entering this strange new territory right along with Neal, this content space, this place where they can be them and no one has to change too much.
And she feels strangely accountable for the bruises now. Like she did something that hurt him, and the next step is to fix that thing.
She's never stuck around long enough to witness the fallout, much less fix it. But now that she has, she doesn't want to leave.
And then she has to.
Neal comes back to himself. She watched it happen, she helped it happen.
And now she doesn't fit anymore.
He doesn't say a word, but she isn't blind, she sees it. Sees how they don't quite match so well anymore, he's ready to wear the rose coloured glasses full-time again, she's only just getting used to the occasional peek.
She doesn't blame him, not in the least. This is who he is, who he's always been, who she fell for as Rebecca. But Neal Caffrey does not go with Rachel Turner.
She's been counting down the days ever since he let her in again, didn't think she'd get this many, didn't ever dream it.
She had it, and now she's lost it. But she wants it back.
She's not going to get it back. She's a little relieved, she really does want Neal to be okay, but it hurts at the same time. She wants to let him go, but she's selfish too, always has been, so it's difficult.
Maybe, maybe she can hold onto this new person at least. This person who she likes a little better than the one she used to be, this person who cares even a little about the fallout, this gentler, softer person.
She doesn't.
Being soft isn't conducive to staying alive. And she prefers alive and ruthless to dead and soft.
Characters (Pairings): Rachel Turner, Neal Caffrey (Rachel/Neal)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 768
Spoilers: Through to 5x11 - Shot Through The Heart.
Content Notes: Multiple references to painplay.
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: Rachel feels Neal drift away.
Author's Note: Panel Two of the This Love triptych. Something of a timestamp to the metal wraps itself around your bones. This can be read as a stand alone. For the 'learning to be loved' square on my
hc_bingo card. Title from Taylor Swift's This Love.Rachel feels Neal drift away.
He's becoming happier, and that's a good thing, but it doesn't feel like it. Because when he's not happy, he understands her. He can look into her eyes and know how it feels to be her - it never stops hurting, but she's become damn good at spreading it around.
Maybe she made him carry that burden.
-:-
One time, they come together, and she thinks it's going to be the usual, wonders how far she'll push him tonight, when he touches her face and whispers, "Let me try something."
She lets him. It feels like fair trade.
Right up until he holds her like she's precious (she isn't, she's killed people, and he knows that, knows that she can still kill in a heartbeat) and kisses her gently. Kisses her like she's Rebecca Lowe.
He can't be pretending it's Rebecca. She kept her hair black, dyed it more permanently, she doesn't resemble her in the least.
He's holding Rachel, and kissing her like she matters.
It feels criminal.
She pushes him away, purposely aiming for a bruise she left. With one swipe of her leg, his are swept out from under him, he's flat in bed, held down by her hands, faster than he can blink, and she wants to hurt him for making her feel like that, but all she can do is look into his eyes, listen to his frantic heartbeat, and curl up into his side, breathing in a way that mimics crying a little too closely for her liking.
He doesn't hurt her like she would've hurt him. He pulls her closer, makes her feel warm, and it's so much worse but feels so much better.
He's going to break her.
-:-
She's getting used to this gentility. Even though she doesn't understand it.
She gave herself permission to let go of him after that first kiss, was ready to leave him behind, just had to grab a bag and leave. But then she remembered how it feels to hold and be held so tenderly, it feels like a gift, and she's utterly confused at it. She doesn't leave new bruises behind as oftena s she used to. Usually, she just plays with the ones that are already there, toying with them, soothing them, walking a much gentler line of pain and pleasure than she's familiar with.
She still feels most like herself when she's leaving bruises, though. And that probably isn't going to change.
-:-
Maybe she doesn't know herself as well as she thought.
Because she does get used to this new pattern. Bruise and soothe, hurt and comfort. She doesn't feel so distant from who she used to be that she's lost touch, but she's entering this strange new territory right along with Neal, this content space, this place where they can be them and no one has to change too much.
And she feels strangely accountable for the bruises now. Like she did something that hurt him, and the next step is to fix that thing.
She's never stuck around long enough to witness the fallout, much less fix it. But now that she has, she doesn't want to leave.
And then she has to.
-:-
Neal comes back to himself. She watched it happen, she helped it happen.
And now she doesn't fit anymore.
He doesn't say a word, but she isn't blind, she sees it. Sees how they don't quite match so well anymore, he's ready to wear the rose coloured glasses full-time again, she's only just getting used to the occasional peek.
She doesn't blame him, not in the least. This is who he is, who he's always been, who she fell for as Rebecca. But Neal Caffrey does not go with Rachel Turner.
She's been counting down the days ever since he let her in again, didn't think she'd get this many, didn't ever dream it.
She had it, and now she's lost it. But she wants it back.
She's not going to get it back. She's a little relieved, she really does want Neal to be okay, but it hurts at the same time. She wants to let him go, but she's selfish too, always has been, so it's difficult.
Maybe, maybe she can hold onto this new person at least. This person who she likes a little better than the one she used to be, this person who cares even a little about the fallout, this gentler, softer person.
-:-
She doesn't.
Being soft isn't conducive to staying alive. And she prefers alive and ruthless to dead and soft.