Disclaimer: As usual, I do not own White Collar.
Neal had first seen the scar on Rebecca's back the night he had slept with her. He had seen enough bullet scars to know what one was when he saw it. It had healed neatly and Neal had lightly traced it with soft fingers.
He hadn't asked her about it when she had woken up. Instead, he had kissed her. Perhaps he had been so in love with the image of who she conned him into thinking she was, that he had been blinded to who she actually was.
But none of that mattered now. Rebecca was gone, and only Rachel was left.
A few years earlier…
"Your new target." A blank manila folder was slid across the table to her. Rachel picked it up, knowing what was inside. She was a highly trained MI5 operative.
Rachel stood up, holding the folder close to her.
"And agent Turner. Do not ruin this mission."
Rachel swallowed and turned away.
Less than thirty-six hours later, Rachel found herself lying on the top of a Manhattan skyscraper with a sniper rifle pointed at her target. The manila folder had contained a single address. There was movement in the window as someone moved and Rachel pulled the trigger.
She could only watch in horror as a child collapsed, blood already forming a bright stain on his chest. MI5 had lied to her. That was all she could think, the mark had never been there. This had all been a game or a lie or a test.
Rachel stormed into MI5 headquarters.
"You lied to me" she spat.
"I have already been informed on your actions."
"Then you know what happened."
"It wasn't your fault, we-"
"You're damn right it wasn't my fault. He was only seven! How could you not know he was there?"
"Agent Turner-"
"I'm done. It's over" Rachel turned and walked out of the agency she had practically grown up in.
Over the next couple of years, Rachel had turned from an agent into an assassin. She became known in the criminal world as one of the best. Eventually she lost count of how many people she had killed. They stopped mattering to her. Every target was only a target, only a con.
Until she met Neal Caffrey. He had changed her. She had done the unthinkable, she had fallen in love. Rachel had fallen in love with her target. She had sworn to never return to Manhattan, too haunted by what she had done. Yet somehow Rachel had been desperate to stay, desperate to start a new life as Rebecca Lowe.
Rachel had been obsessed with finding the diamond. She had thought Neal would've joined her. But he cared too much for the man who shackled him. He cared too much for New York. She knew the fairytale had been over before he had even told her.
"I love how good you are," she said. She had meant it, it hadn't just been one last desperate attempt to try to glimpse the love she knew Neal still felt for her.
"I hate how good you are." She would never show it, but it had been like a slap in her face. Neal truly did not love her anymore and it really was over.
She looked at him one last time. And she saw in his eyes, in his posture, that it wasn't just her that was over. He was over too.
Author: So just a short little oneshot about Rebecca/Rachel and (sort of) Neal. If enough people like this idea, I'll expand this story.