Author's Note: This is set right after Point Blank. Just pretend it was winter time when the eppy took place. This has major emotional whumpage in it so be warned. I don't own White Collar, I simply enjoy messing with the characters.

The droplet of water took its time as it fell to the ground. Others of its kind were already gathered below and it was now time to join them. There was a small ripple as it splashed into the small puddle of water and was soon followed by another.

The emotionless sky line of New York city watched over the rooftop and the young man on it. Sleet had gathered on the man's still body and soaked the figure making it shudder in the cold.

If only the sleet would numb the pain in the young man's heart then everything would be ok again. If that pain was gone that would mean that he hadn't just caused the shooting of his best friend.

Some best friend he was.

First he got Kate killed and now Mozzie.

Who was next?

Peter, El, June, Diana, Alex, or Jones?

Which one?

Or would it be himself?

Neal Caffrey hoped it would be himself. He wouldn't be able to go through another death. Couldn't deal with the pain death caused.

He knew it was slightly selfish of him but he only wanted it to end.

Neal wasn't suicidal, never had been and never would be. Instead he was just a young man who'd had his heart ripped to shreds one too many times.

Every time he walked into his room at June's he expected Mozzie to be sitting on the couch drinking his wine and talking about how his day had been.

But Mozzie wasn't there.

Would never be there again.

The little guy wouldn't be waiting for him somewhere outside the FBI building or at one of the numerous shops where Neal went.

And the realization was breaking him into pieces. Pieces that he would never be able to get back again. Ever.

Mozzie had always teased Neal saying that one day he would be the death of him.

And Mozz had been correct. He was dead and it was Neal's fault.

The ex-con artist wanted to blame Fowler for it but he knew that wasn't true. It had been Neal who had been looking for revenge not Fowler and certainly not Mozzie.

Tears continued to leak their way down his face and the daylight hours waned and turned to the night. The figure stayed on the roof, sometimes smiling sadly, other times scowling.

The memories flashed across Neal and he wished they wouldn't. He didn't want to remember all the things that he and Mozzie had been through. At least not right now.

Later, but not now.

The sound of the door- leading back inside- shook him out of his reverie and he glanced up slowly.

"Neal?"

"Mozz?" Neal asked confused. Mozz, you're dead so… the felon tried to figure out how this was happening.

A few seconds later, Mozzie was leaning over Neal, checking him worriedly.

"Thought you were dead."

"No Neal, I'm not dead." The voice was reassuring and Neal studied the familiar face before him.

"Mozz I really screwed up this time." Neal confessed to his friend, voice heartbroken. "Peter'll probably toss me back in the slammer this time. I don't blame him though, he probably sees me as a backstabbing son of a b'." The tears flowed down his face even more heavily than before and he sobbed leaning back against the wall.

Mozzie hadn't been the only friend that he had lost today. (When he thought Mozz was dead that is) but he had lost all of them.

He had no friends left.

No one to care about what happened to him, of he was ok or not.

No one to miss him when he eventually died.

There was no one left…

He felt Mozzie's hands shaking him, telling him to keep talking, to stay awake and not to sleep.

Neal mumbled something incoherently as he lay down on his side. Mozzie was shaking him in earnest now, calling his name loudly.

The young criminal ignored the incessant voice and let his eyes drift shut. A few minutes later he was roused again and he gave a startled cry of alarm when he saw Peter right there. He hadn't been expecting that in the slightest.

But where was Mozzie?

He had been here not to long ago.

Neal scanned the rest of the roof but it was empty and only two sets of footprints were visible. The sleet had turned to snow and the world looked unreal.

"Where's Mozzie?"

Author's Note: This will be a two-shot and I'm pretty sure you guys can guess who's perspective the next chapter will be…

Have ya'll ever wondered if Matt Bomer and Tim DeKay ever skimmed through these fan-fics? I wonder what their reactions would be to some of them…

But did you guys like it? Won't update unless I know that it's worth it =)