Author's Note: I came up with the idea for this in Biology today, when I remembered that scene during 'Without You' when Mimi is sitting at Angel's bedside... It took me a while to figure out just what it was she was feeding him, and then it hit me -- ice cubes! So here you go, enjoy. Another oneshot to tide you over while I work on Campus Queen and My Body, My Blood.
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Things didn't make much sence anymore. Up was down, left was right, the dimensions shifted and churned. Angel's body was betraying him, little by little. He felt like he was on fire yet his body would shiver violently. His hands, the hands that would lightly hold a cigarette or boldly grasp a pair of drumsticks, were nothing but skeletal scraps of flesh. Sleep came as nothing more than an automatic responce by his weakened body; somewhere far, far away he was afraid to close his eyes and never wake up again. As much as he would have wanted to, this stubborn body (refusing to die and unable to get better) demanded it's rest, as did Collins. There were times when he simply couldn't stay awake anymore, slim honey-golden hand clutching big brown hand in hopes of using it as an anchor to the waking world. And he would always be there, Collins. Not once did Angel wake up to find the haplessly decorated hospital room devoid of this warm, gentle presence that belonged to the love of his life.
The harsh lighting of the fluorescent lamp above his bed soon became too much. It pained him to even open his eyes. Vision was unimportant at this point. Still, he knew that Mimi was there on his left, and Collins was seated at his right, damp cloth in hand to relieve the night sweats. Tom's other hand held Angel's right hand, the one into which the IV needle was slowly delivering death. He was shivering. Mimi touched his cheek and frowned a bit. Anyone could see she was on the verge of tears; he was burning up. Taking an ice cube from a paper cup, she carefully ran it over his lips. "Come on, it'll help..." She said quietly. Like a child only doing a chore for the promised reward, Angel didn't really have a chance to protest. He held the cold, smooth object in his mouth for some time before swallowing. If only a little, it helped. "There we go, baby. You want another one?"Mimi's voice again, trying to be cheerful. She sounds tired. Angel shook his head as much as he could. "N-not yet." Mimi and Collins exchanged glances. Not quite worried, they were nontheless saddened by this answer. What would one say in a time like this? 'It'll help you get better'? Angel knew very well that he wouldn't make it. Nobody ever did, after all. The disease eating away at him was not a common cold, or a broken bone, or even cancer. And for all of his strength, for all of his innocent kindness and selfish idealism-- It was stronger than him.