I only just discovered White Collar (and instantly fell in love) so sorry for any errors or OCC-ness because I've only watched up until 1x14. So please no flames!

Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar or any of its wonderful characters (as much as this hurts me to say it.)

Warning: Kinda angsty stuff here guys and a very unoriginal drabble. Enjoy!

"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered."- Tom Stoppard

There was this moment, this tiny, insignificant moment where everything was still and quiet, like nothing was really happening at all.

It was rather serene in some ways, the silence, and it was almost like the world had stopped talking, stopped moving for that moment and all that remained was this hollow, yet beautiful stillness.

The only sounds that became apparent to Neal were the soft grating of his fingernails against the tarmac, the sticky surface of the runway felt hot and during that brief heartbeat, when his own pulse seemed to hesitate, Neal found the time to notice just how hot the tarmac actually was. It shouldn't have been so blisteringly warm when the air itself was bitter and seemed to gnaw at the ex-con, seeping through the cracks in his pale, outer armour and chilling the grief that lingered inside. The grief for the new-found life he was leaving behind.

But suddenly, the ground was too hot and he gave sharp hiss as the noise and the roaring and the surge of vivid, intense heat swept over his head and shattered the silence and then, he realised.

Kate.

Kate. He dragged himself up onto trembling, aching legs, his lungs screaming, his body overwhelmed with this pure terror and he forced himself to look around.

All he saw was red. Fire, bright and vicious and consuming everything its sharp flames could clutch hold of. The streaks of fire licked at the grey sky and the plane was totally concealed in a haze of glorious gold. She was in there. Kate was in there.

And she was burning.

Neal hadn't felt that instinctiveness in a long time, or ever and before he fully understood what had happened or considered his own life, he was bolting forwards in a series of harsh breaths and rapid heartbeats towards the fire and the certainty of Death that came with it.

But Peter wouldn't let him go.

He won't let me die.

A part of Neal, buried deep and hidden, knew that she was dead. There was no way she could be alive…not in there…but he still ran. He still struggled and cried and fought against the iron grip wrapped around his chest but Peter just held him tighter with this incredible strength Neal didn't know he possessed.

Peters panicked shouts became mere whispers in the smoke and Neal couldn't focus on anything except for Kate. Nothing mattered, but saving her.

She can't be saved.

It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes, but to Neal, it felt like a thousand millenniums all strung together in one horrifying paper chain. His throat was painfully raw and soon his heart-wrenching wails for Kate dulled to inaudible rasps and his white, chapped lips moved soundlessly.

His legs gave out at some point.

His tears stopped at another.

During that moment, that tiny, insignificant moment, nothing mattered but her.

But Peter wouldn't ever let him go.

Neals begs fell on deaf ears.

There was no point in fighting anymore.

She was dead.

Neal was dead.

"It has been said time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone." -Rose Kennedy.

Not great, I know, but I was inspired! This is such an amazing show...