Trouble Is - Chapter 1 - neontiger55 - White Collar. Chapter Text The city was still drowsy as his taxi sailed down Seventh Avenue and Neal willed the traffic to close in around them.
He’d left his apartment as late as possible and hadn’t corrected the driver when he’d turned left on Riverside, away from the Parkway and towards the congested heart of downtown. The car stunk of stale tobacco smoke and pine tree air freshener, and there were black scuffmarks all over the fabric of the ceiling for which Neal couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation. Outside, the neon signatures of the bodegas were dulling in the strengthening sunlight as it crept through the valleys of the buildings. Doormen were coming off shift, cigarettes hanging between their lips as they headed out into the day. Neal’s bag lay on the seat next to him, packed quickly but not carelessly. The cabbie leaned on his horn and swerved around a bike messenger, causing the trinkets hanging from the rear-view mirror to swing out in a near horizontal line. Archiveofourown. Up in Flames, White Collar. Breaking Point, White Collar. Author note: English is not my mother tongue, so I'm really sorry for all my mistakes.
The characters in this story are a little bit OOC. It takes place a few weeks (maybe three or four) after Kate's death. Neal was in prison for only two weeks and is still working for the FBI. I hope you enjoy it! Breaking Point Neal was sitting by his desk. Since Kate's death was nothing the same again. He was in prison for only two weeks but this was enough. With a sick feeling in his stomach he stood up and walk to the coffee area. The coffee nearly fell on the floor, but Neal put it on the desk and went fast outside the coffee and outside of the building.
It does not do to dwell on dreams, White Collar. A/N: More angsty early Season 2 fic!
Title quote from HP. "How was he? " El asks, voice soft with sympathy, and Peter has to swallow down a lump in his throat before he can answer. He doesn't want to tell her about the stale metallic smell of the prison. Just Another Life, White Collar. This is a very out of character story that is dark and kind of sad.
But the stupid plot bunny kept hopping around the room, throwing carrots at me. Obviously, I had no choice but to accept its craziness. Blame the bunny. Just Another Life. I'll Say Goodnight But It's Never Goodbye, a White Collar fanfiction - lying here, making castles in the air. Chains and Charcoal - PeachWord - White Collar. Stories of Progress - BlackEyedGirl - White Collar. Elizabeth hears the yelling from upstairs.
For a moment, she's almost relieved. Neal had spent the first two days afterwards nearly silent. He had answered direct questions – medical personnel, agents, Elizabeth and Mozzie – but that was all. Peter had shrugged it off ("he screamed himself hoarse, El") and told her to wait. [fic: white collar] We Sleep on Stones - words of wood.
Okay, so this is a thing, which is pretty much all the angst ever.
*iz not sure about posting this* Title: We Sleep on StonesCharacters/Pairing: Neal, Peter; GenGenre/Rating: Angst; TWord count: 1800Warnings: Spoilers for 4x04; Character deathNotes: The title is from a song by Cherry Ghost. This is unbeta'd, and doesn't really have a point apart from Neal-angst. I did promise it to. Apocalypse - IamShadow21 - White Collar. An apocalypse (Ancient Greek: ἀποκάλυψις apocálypsis, from ἀπό and καλύπτω meaning 'un-covering'), translated literally from Greek, is a disclosure of knowledge, i.e., a lifting of the veil or revelation, although this sense did not enter English until the 14th century.
In religious contexts it is usually a disclosure of something hidden. WC - Sleep Will Come Soon - Sometimes... Title: Sleep Will Come SoonAuthor: angelita26Rating: PGCharacters: Neal, Peter, Elizabeth, Jones, Diana, and TheoSpoilers: Through the Season 5 finale.Word Count: ~1800Summary: Post-S5.
A quiet moment amid chaos is enough to break down walls that Neal's spent seven months building up. Notes: Written for whitecollarhc's Abduct-a-Palooza II. Specifically in response to a prompt by anonymous. Neal padded quietly down the stairs and stood by the kitchen entryway to listen to the commotion in the dining area. Elizabeth, in her fuzzy bathrobe and slippers, was making coffee.
Neal shook his head and skirted around her to get a glass from the cabinet. The Scorpion's Ghost - yuma (yuma_writes) - White Collar. All we can do is keep breathing, White Collar. A/N: I know many authors have written about this..but I was re-watching 'out of the box' and this is my take on what should have happened.
Also, to all those readers who are following my story 'Alone', my beta is busy with end-of-semester college work and I think education is the most important thing so I've told her to take her time with the last two chapters. I'm sorry for the long wait, please bear with me. Also, this is un-betaed. So feel free to point out any mistakes. Oh and the name of this story is taken from the song 'Keep Breathing' by Ingrid Michaelson which I was listening to while writing this. DISCLAIMER: White Collar, unfortunately, does not belong to me. WARNING: Use of some strong words, because frankly speaking I felt the situation needed it. Fic: Shards (White Collar, PG, 1300 words) - Flora. Title: ShardsAuthor: FloraRating: PGGenre and/or Pairing: GenCharacters: Neal, DianaSpoilers: Season 2Warnings: NoneWord Count: 1300Summary: A part of him keeps thinking didn’t we just do this?
A/N: I am procrastinating terribly on finishing my big bang fic. I am also about halfway through rewatching S2 and could not get this image out of my head. A part of him keeps thinking didn’t we just do this? The smell of the hospital is the same, burned coffee and some astringent, aggressively lemon-scented cleaners. The clock on the wall could read twelve noon or twelve midnight; harsh fluorescent lights and no windows give a sense of time frozen, of being trapped in a day without sun or darkness, a day that doesn’t end. Spiral - sahiya - White Collar. Neal was no stranger to depression. Looking back, he realized that his mom had been severely depressed all through his childhood, and he knew that there had been times in prison when he’d been depressed, too.
The weeks after Kate’s death were a black hole that he barely remembered, and the only thing that had helped was coming back to work for Peter. But as long as he kept himself out prison, he was fine. Or at least he had been, until now.