New story and I'm very excited and have actually been thinking about this one for a long time. Anyways, thank you for all the reviews on my other story, 'Cancer.' I really loved some of the criticism and the nice words you had to say so I can improve and become a better writer in the feature. I do not own White Collar or I am not associated with White Collar in anyway.

Warning: Maybe have some whumpage in it, but I haven't decided. No slash. Spoilers for Out of the Box.
And I think there is gonna be one person perspectives some times, and also, I apologize in my last story for not putting warning on it, I was new and kind of forgot. Sorry. And thank you for pointing that out, a few people did. There was a lot of research put in to that one and sorry if the facts didn't add up. :(

Plot: Peter, Elizabeth, Jones, Lauren, Hughes, and the rest of the world think Neal Caffrey is dead from a stakeout and undercover mission gone wrong, but what if he isn't? Let's see how the gang's reaction is to it, especially when Jones was the witness. And where is Neal Caffrey, the alleged con artist, gone now? And will he ever come back?

ALSO: The idea was provided by Monk. If you watched Monk, you would know that Monk once pretended to be dead, but this time, Neal isn't pretending. He thinks that people know he is alive and are looking for him. He's lost and confused. Neal also didn't need his name cleared for murder in this fanfiction (this is why Monk pretended to be dead.) So if you don't want to read it because I took a slice of the idea from it, then don't read it.
-

(Peter's POV)

I remember the day I got the news. Hughes sat me down; I looked him in his brown eyes. I knew something wasn't right; there was that odd look in his older face. He made me sit down, why did he make me sit down? I remember those thoughts like it was yesterday. Wait, I think it was yesterday. When you get tragic news, you tend to forget these things.

I had sent Jones with Neal on an undercover job, there was plenty of backup, and usually I would have gone with him, but I remember, I was feeling sick and Hughes wouldn't let me go. I knew he regretted it now. It was just a stomachache after all, but I could've gotten sick.

Hughes looked at me in my eyes, "Its Neal," he started. My heart started pounding in my chest. We were friends, and I would be so upset if he was hurt. He was definitely one of my closer friends.

"Is he hurt?" I asked, but I was afraid that he would go on. I knew what was happening anyways, though. Hughes looked at me, he was so quiet and he looked as though someone had punched him in the gut.

He took a breath, "I'm sorry, Peter. The suspect figured out who Caffrey was. We have him in custody, but I'm so sorry. Peter, Neal is d-." I didn't allow him to finish. I sprinted out of the room with my stomachache returning.

And then I saw him; Jones. He was walking in the room. His face was trickled in tears, this was not happening. There was this idiotic lady with a camera. When I look back at her now, I just want to think how much I wanted to punch her in the face. Why would she be asking him question about what just happened? He was recovering.

I walked up to him at a slow pace. I didn't want to hear the words that he said, but I knew I would sooner or later. "Jones, it's not true, is it?" I asked, looking in his face.

Jones looked, he was lost at words. "I'm sorry. I only saw the body, I couldn't see the rest. The person pushed him after he shot him in the ocean; it could take years to recover the body. I tried to shoot him or something, just get him so he couldn't take Neal. I tried so hard, but I couldn't. I'm sorry, Peter. It's my fault."

I didn't like it when people blamed themselves for other people's death. Neal at first did when Kate died, but then his friends surrounded him, convincing him that he didn't. He suddenly believed.

My heart was thudding, "Jones, it wasn't your fault. You couldn't run up and tackle the person; it was too late even if you did." I patted him on the shoulder and left the office. How was June and Elizabeth going to take the news? What about Mozzie? Did he already know? And Alex? I remember thinking that on that day. That treaded, horrible, cursed day, where I couldn't be there for my friend to help him. My world stopped for a while.

When I left the office, I didn't have a plan where I was going. I just walked where my feet would take me. I didn't think about anything but why I couldn't have been there for my friend, at his side, when he had died. I hadn't broken down yet, and I was amazed. When I talked to Elizabeth, I remember crying so hard against her, and I remember her crying so hard against me. We cried together, broken inside.

That young man had so much spirit, so much soul, and so much attitude in him. I would miss him and that stupid hat. I smiled at the thought. I missed him flipping it and annoying me on a daily basis, and when I went back to work, I remember waiting for him to arrive, then Hughes reminded me, "He's not going to walk through the doors, Peter." He patted my shoulder and walked away.

I sat at the dining room table, waiting for Elizabeth to come home, so I could give her the dreaded news that her friend was dead. My friend was dead too. Had Mozzie and June already gotten the news? I shook my head at the thought.

Elizabeth's face was always so comforting to me, even during the worst of times; I couldn't help but smile at her face. She was so beautiful, outrageous, and spontaneous. She was mine, my wife. It seemed like hours for her to come home on that day, but it was only minutes. I looked at the clock, anxiously.

I heard a door crack open and squeak, and then I looked at Elizabeth walking in with an umbrella over her head, hanging it up. She was taking off her jacket; she probably thought I was still at work. She was surprised when she saw me at the dining room table, with that troubled look on my face. She smiled at me, kissing me on the cheek. I remember how badly I needed that from her.

Who knew a young couple's life could fall apart so quickly? Not completely fall apart, but a part of it had gone…missing.

We didn't say a word to each other for the first few minutes, she just watched me, trying to figure out why I looked so troubled. Then finally, after the minutes of complete silence, she asked me, tilting my head upward, "What's wrong, honey?" she asked.

I looked at her, her beautiful eyes melting me away, but I just shook my head. I felt tears welled up in my eyes then, it was gonna hurt me to say these words to her. I couldn't even imagine the visions Jones had replaying in his head then. I sighed and then finally came out with it, she noticed the tears and got a tissue for me, she grabbed my hand.

"Neal is dead." I said, it was simple enough; I didn't want to say the details. It would break my heart too much. She just stared at me, a blank expression of shock covering her beautiful face. "What?" she asked, she had tears in her eyes much like me.

I nodded, "I can't say anymore. Stakeout gone wrong. I'll tell you when I'm…better." I said to her. She shook her head, "I d-don't want to hear anymore." She cried and then looked down, grabbing a tissue herself.

There we sat at the table, I remembered, crying. We didn't make a sound; we could hear a mouse pitter-patter on the floor. We ignored it. After maybe thirty minutes of complete silence and tears, we both agreed to go upstairs, "Satchmo." I called and he followed, sensing something was wrong.

Satchmo was a great asset of the family. A loyal, companion that sensed when something was wrong was great. Satchmo would sit in between us that night, sleeping at our sides. I remembered how much Neal loved taking Satchmo out for walks.

I listened to Elizabeth and she listened to me. The tears, the sadness, the mourning, and the sniffles. Before Satchmo entered the bed, we held each other, just looking at the wall. Well, I was at least; Elizabeth was looking the same place I was. Then again, she could've been looking at the picture of her and me.

In the middle of the night, I had gotten so violently sick from nightmares of his death. I was so sick, I made Elizabeth puke as well. We were sick, broken, and mourning together. It was amazing how comforting I was to her, and how comforting she was to me. We slept together, Satchmo next to us, with trash cans at our sides, just in case. Better safe than sorry.

I couldn't sleep though. I had that nightmare replaying in my mind over and over again. I winced at the thought that night. I remember everything that happened that day, that night, the morning following, the afternoon, the evening, and that night. How many days it had been, I didn't know.

Neal seemed like an amazing person for some reason. He gave up his life for an undercover job. That was loyalty and trust, I had even told him once not to do that, when he went on his first stakeout.

"Remember Neal, if they pull a weapon, drop the item. It is not worth your life." I told him, he nodded and smiled, "I know." He lied to me.

I would and still will miss that goofy hat, his cartoon outfits, him putting his feet on the tables, and him interrupting Elizabeth's and me's 'romantic' lunches. I smiled slightly at the thoughts about one time he had chucked ham at me on accident. Well, at least I thought it was an accident. I remember getting pissed at him.

Not an actually pissed, but I glared at him and then plotted revenge. I remember Elizabeth's smile and giggle and then Neal's laugh when it hit me in the face. Elizabeth and I talked about possible revenge's while we watched the hilarious expressions on his face. I laughed so hard that day, my side hurt the next day.

After two hours of thoughts about things we had been through together, I fell into a deep sleep. I was so exhausted, but it didn't help. I still dreamt about Neal Caffrey.

(Elizabeth's POV)
I also remembered the day I got the news. Two days ago. I heard the news, I cried so hard in Peter's arms. Neal was like my son and then Peter said he wasn't there when it happened in bed that night. It was so silent that evening.

In the middle of the night, we had both retched up everything we had eaten that day. It was…gruesome. We were broken and crying together. I hated seeing my baby, Peter, crying. It hurt my chest like I had just gotten punched.

I woke up hours later, it was four o'clock in the morning, I cried silently. His face flashed through my head, I thought of him that day so many times.

I had called my job and Peter's work. I was going to give myself as much time as I needed to heal, but I needed to be back on my feet, at work by next week. I was planning that big job Neal had given me before the death of Kate. I was still getting ready for it, and it had been a month since Kate's death.

Lauren called in sick at work, we had heard, but we all knew she wasn't sick. She had become friends with Neal, as did the office. Jones, Peter, Lauren, and even Diane, who was in D.C., called in saying they weren't going to work that day. Sickening day.

No one expected Jones to get back to work; he would need therapy most likely. He was going to relive that for the rest of his life, and nobody blamed him for missing work. He needed to recover, as did Lauren, Peter, and Diane.

Diane even called and gave her sympathy to us since she knew how close we were with him. She was so sweet and I loved her like a sister. She had told us she sent flowers and pictures of her daughter. She said she would help arrangements with the funeral, I smiled at the thought. I liked having her around.

I called June and she had also gotten the news, she informed us that Mozzie had too. He was staying over there for quite a while to help go through Neal's things and pack them up in boxes. We would see if there was a will, but we didn't plan to find one.

I walked downstairs when I couldn't find Peter in the morning, he was sitting at the table, reading the paper, his eyes were swelled, and his hair was greasy, telling me he hadn't shaved nor showered yet. I didn't push him.

"He wasn't ready to go undercover and on stakeouts; I don't know why Hughes and I pushed him too. It's only been a month since Kate died, he wasn't prepared and back into the swing of things yet." He shook his head, slamming the paper down. The page was on the Local News. And there he was; 'Neal Caffrey Dies on Undercover and Stakeout, 32'

I shook my head, "Honey, he would've spoken up if he wasn't ready. And did he speak up?" I asked him, looking at him, taking his head. He shook his head, "He was really jumpy when Jones told him he'd be doing a stakeout from the van and Neal was going to go undercover."

He looked at the wall, a picture in place there. It was of Peter, Neal, and I in the park on a bench, smiling. I smiled slightly at it, forgetting I had placed it there. He got up, threw it to the ground, shattering it to pieces, and walked back upstairs. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

I was pretty anxious about writing this, so if you notice some grammar mistakes, sorry about that. Thanks for reading; I am really excited about starting this story. Hope you enjoy the rest of the chapters in the future.