My Last Fatal Days

Chapter 1

I was staring at the ground as I walked. Usually, my eyes would be locked on him. His

dark skin, and the coat I'd bought him, hanging open. His cap pulled over his head. His smile set on his face. But not today. Today, I wasn't even holding his hand.

"So, I'm worried about Mimi, and Roger too, of course."

"Me too."

I didn't give him a glance when he answered so simply. I couldn't look. I didn't need to, I could feel his eyes locking on me. My pale self. My sickly looking figure. I'd grown weak. I was losing.

And he knew it just as well as I did.

"It's hard for Mimi, to dedicate her time to trying to change, when Roger is avoiding her as much as he is..."
"I know. I wish I could get him to go see her more."

"I'm scared..."

"...Because you're loosing the battle?"

I stopped, rooted to the spot.

Knowing it was inevitable, I looked up. His eyes were clouded, and gone. The happiness momentarily lost. He looked like he wanted to cry, but couldn't.

"You okay honey?" My voice sounded strained. It was hard to talk past the lump in my throat. I hated seeing him hurting. Especially when I was the cause of his pain.

He got a smile on his face, but the smile was grim. Like he was in to much pain to give me the smile I loved to see. Like he was too...Hurt.

"Honey?" I questioned again, my voice was even more strained.

He turned away from me, and his hands went to his face in a swift movement. He sniffed, and cleared his throat.

"...Honey, are you...Are you...Crying?"

He cleared his throat again before he walked over to me. He didn't look up. Just, took me by the hand, and lead us to the Life Support gathering.

--

Sitting there, with everyone. I couldn't help but let my mind wander.

How much longer did I have, before I was gone?

Before I could no longer be held by Collins, and feel loved so dearly by him?

Would he be okay without me?

Would he ever forget me?

But one thought ruled over them all.

Would he ever move on?

"Angel, any input on that? You're awefully quiet," Paul's voice summoned me from the seat on the other side of Collins.

I leaned forewards, and looked his way,

"Sorry Paul...I wasn't - I wasn't listening."

"Are you feeling okay? You look, pale..."

"Just fine, really, I am," I lied, leaning back into my chair.

He didn't look convinced. No one did. And I didn't dare catch the eyes of Collins. I couldn't quite tell just what he could see in me. But now, I knew it was more than what anyone else had seen. He'd learned that over time though. How to see into me. My mask couldn't fool him.

--

"Angel?"

"..."

"Angel."

"...Yeah?" My voice came out in a strained voice. The lump was back. Strangling me, to the point of me wanting to cry. My eyes did water, but I forced the tears back.

His hand found mine in the darkness lit only by street lights.

"Whenever you want to talk to me. You know I'll be right here to listen."

I squeezed his hand gently, and nodded in silence. I didn't trust my voice right now.

Usually I was happy, and joyful, and I had everyone smiling, and laughing.

But right now, I was feeling the sickness take hold. And feeling the sadness of Collins, my only love, hurting because of me.

I decided it on that street, in the darkness of the streets, that tomorrow, would be a better day. Tomorrow, I wouldn't be so distant. I'd tell him what was on my mind.

Everything.

( A.N: I was going to make this into a one shot, but I know now how much more effort this will take. And time. R&R, please. )