PLEASE BE ADVISED: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END OF POINT BLANK. DO NOT READ THIS ANY FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN POINT BLANK. THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING.
Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar or any of the characters within.
Windstar: After watching the mid season finale and being in a state of shock for about two hours, I proceeded to play Battle Front on the PS2 to clear my head some. When it didn't work, and this story struck me this morning, I knew I had to write something for my favorite character. While Willie Garson's contract says he'll still be around, from where we've left off I felt it appropriate to have it be concluded that he was in fact dead and not just "critically injured." I truly hope and wish that Mozzie stays with White Collar as he gives a part to the show that other series do not have. However, this is my take on his death and his after life.
What He Wanted:
Mozzie wouldn't want him to be sad. He wouldn't want him to cry or fall to his knees on the dirty streets of Manhattan clinging to his lifeless body as though it were the only thing that attached him to this world. He wouldn't want to feel the stabbing needles of tears make their mark on the his blood stained clothes.
He wouldn't want the spectacle of the flashing lights and the ambulances while Central Park behind him was ruthlessly combed for any clues and fifth avenue was shut down for all of museum mile. He wouldn't want the feds to take his body and run an autopsy report, because as much as he believed in people getting what they deserved – he didn't want his own body to be desecrated by the people he'd spent his life running from.
He especially wouldn't want him, that young and infectiously gentle him to fall to the millions of pieces that had become his life around him. He wouldn't want him to take that swan dive off into the dark place that he had been floating just above for months. He wouldn't want his hands to shake every time he saw blood or thought about his death. It just wasn't what he wanted.
Mozzie was a complex man on the outside and yet he was filled with such simple virtues and values. Family was important to him, and Neal was family. So he wouldn't want him to disappear just like he had started to after Kate. He wouldn't want him to fall into a chaotic tailspin that had no end and would eventually be silenced only with his own fatality. He wouldn't.
Still, Mozzie knew and understood that what cannot be changed must be borne, and he knew that there were some things that he had no choice about. He knew that there were some things that were predestined to happen. The world was always spinning around them and he knew that the only way to survive in this world was to take care of yourself the best that you could and to allow fate to take its hold on you.
He was at peace. That thought was one of, but no the, last thoughts that he ever had. He saw that gun, and he looked at the shooter and in his mind's eye he knew that everything was exactly as it was supposed to be. He knew that this was his end, this was all he had left, and he was happy and content to die.
Of course that didn't stop the second thought – damn only five more minutes – from crossing his mind. He only had to live a few moments longer and he could have given Neal the news himself. He could have given him the exact coordinates to what it was the music box pointed to.
And that didn't stop his third and final thought – Carry on brother, live for me – which was his last prayer to the deity he was sure was listening and was prepared to take him to whatever plane he belonged in.
There were other things that he wanted to talk about, other things that he wanted to explain and explore. He always wanted to go to that Star Wars exhibit in Alaska, but he hated planes and after Kate...well, he hated planes. What bothered him greatly though was that there was no punchline to this. He looked at the man when his pockets were ruffled and his notepad was taken, and there was nothing that he would do except for stare and say nothing.
He wouldn't tell the man that he had the code already worked out, and that it was sitting on Neal's table under his books. He'd left it there after Neal had gone off to kill Fowler. Which was another thing, that bastard was going to put all sorts of guilt on himself for this.
If he hadn't gone after Fowler, and stayed at home – Mozzie would still be alive. Mozzie didn't want that though. He didn't want Neal to suffer, he didn't want Neal to fall apart and disappear in a world of vengeance that had almost led him to kill a man today.
He didn't want to think about how much anger and hatred had filled that kid that he'd always thought of as his brother. All those years together, all that time with each other, all those capers and laughs and tears and just – damn.
This was it, after all of that hard work and downing of vitamin C pills, after all of that time that he spent keeping himself out of harms way, this is what his life had come to. He had started to help the Suits, and now he was shot and dying on a park bench off fifth with his favorite park in the world just inches behind him.
He wanted to see it just one last time, but his eyes were fluttering closed and the blood was draining from him. He knew without a doubt that he would be found soon enough, and he could almost feel the frantic hands grabbing him and the terrified shouts screaming at him. He could almost envision his dearest friend and companion falling apart at the seams his body and mind shutting down in a systematic fashion that in no way could be stopped by anything. He knew that would happen, but it wasn't what he wanted.
He didn't want any of that. He didn't want any of that at all. He didn't want the pain and the suffering and the anguish. He didn't want the reversal of characters. He didn't want to see the brother he'd loved for over a decade to crumble and disappear into the dust. He didn't want to see any of that fall back. Which was good, because he was dying and the dead don't see the fall out. The dead just wait until their friends rejoin them. The dead are left in peace.
He felt many things though. Many emotions filled him even as he started to fade into the abyss and a white light of glistening glory surrounded him in a surprisingly anti-climatic fashion. This was it, this was what he had lived and died for. This light. Damn did it feel small compared to everything else that was happening around him.
Most of all, he had lived his entire life to say his last words. He had thought meticulously of what it was he wanted to say and how they would comfort or leave at peace those around him. He'd never been given the opportunity though, and as blood filled his lungs he knew he'd never get around to uttering them.
Silly how his mind was packed with all of those thoughts. The last thought he ever had – carry on brother, live for me – were the ones that he settled on, but if he'd have a choice he would have changed it to something far better. He wasn't certain that he'd be able to, but even as he felt a weightless feeling of contentment settle over him he knew he'd have all the time in the world to decide on the right words he always wanted to say.
What could he possibly do to comfort his best friend and companion? What could he possibly profess that would make this easier? Nothing, he reasoned would be worded appropriately. Neal didn't care about the code. He didn't care about the box. He didn't care about anything. All he truly wanted was for his family to be okay again. He only wanted his family to stay intact.
Perhaps that was why this was so ironic.
After all of this time, after all of this pain and suffering over Kate, Neal thought he'd finish this today and instead he lost another member of that family that he'd been raised with. How many of them were left? There were six to start with...Keller, Wilkes, Alex, Kate, him, Neal. Keller and Wilkes were in jail, Kate and him were...dead...and that left Alex and Neal. The only ones left.
Ironic isn't it? It was almost worth laughing.
He could hear the screams and the cries that he knew Neal would make. He could see the broken man as he was torn violently from his body and the paramedics rushed to take his place. He could see the Suit holding him back and keeping him from getting closer. Usually he would object to someone manhandling him, but not this time. This time Mozzie encouraged him. This time Mozzie was more then willing to have someone hold Neal down and keep him from doing something.
He believed in free spirits, but he didn't want this. He didn't want Neal to know. He wished he had a doppelganger or a clone to leave behind so that he never would have known, but the kid was too smart for that – damn him.
Mozzie knew this blow would kill his brother, and he expected to see him far sooner then he truly wanted. There was nothing left for Neal to live for. There was nothing left for him to hold onto.
What Mozzie wanted though...what he truly wanted...without all of this bullshit in the way. What he really and truly wanted...was just more time. He wanted more time to be with them. He wanted more time to see this thing through. He wanted more time to wait for Gina to return. He wanted more time to find Kate's...and his...killer. He wanted more time to be there for Neal and to watch him finally get the life that he wanted.
Because as much as he had tried to talk sense into the kid...he wanted it too...he wanted the white picket fence with a dog and a wife and two point five kids. He wanted normalcy and PTAs. He wanted to be frantic over lunch boxes and introducing star wars to five year olds. He wanted to make spy gadgets and be the cool dad on the block. He wanted to play the new video games and to read the New York Times.
He wanted to see a government that wasn't corrupt. He wanted to see the economy turn around. He wanted to see if Peter and El were ever going to have a baby. He wanted to see if people like him could have a live without an ending like this. He wanted for once in his life – to live and to live freely and wonderfully and without fear and without drama and excitement.
It was his world though, to be wrapped up in capers, and that was just it: he wanted to go on just one more caper. He wanted to collaborate on just one more heist. He wanted to raise the next generation to face the man. He wanted to have a new set of kids that could go up and give the longest police chase in the history of the world.
He wanted freedom! Freedom to do what he wanted when he wanted. He wanted the world in his hand and the freedom that came with it, and his heart sung for such things. His heart sung for such things...and they were things that would forever be out of his grasp.
They were things that he would have to observe only. He was free now, death had a funny way of making you feel trapped though. Never to intertwine in the world of the living any longer. Neal would be his living legacy and that was all he could ask for, even if he didn't want to have to ask in the first place.
What frustrated him the most about everything he wanted and how everything turned out though...was that he had died before he had finished his final thought. He had died before he had gotten his last words out effectively. There were so many things that he wanted and never accomplished and there were so many things he never got a chance to do...and this final life goal was smote before him.
If he did have a chance to finish his thoughts, and he did have a chance to finally say the last words he'd dreamt of saying all his life – his final wish in this world.
He would have said this :
Carry on brother, live for me. Now at last; I am one with the Force.
And that was all that he wanted.