Earning Her Wings

Columbia hadn't exactly led a good life. She did drugs, she did boys, she did boys on drugs and drugs on boys, she had followed the path to ultimate rock-n-roll sin and it had led her, eventually, to a man with a pickup truck and the devil's eyes. She had fallen in love with an alien, watched him kill her boyfriend, and forgave him, even loved him again. She had died for him.

But in spite of all this, maybe even because of it, she knew she might have a shot at Heaven. Surely all these negatives could be turned around and made positives. Surely she could be saved.

She wasn't in Heaven yet, though, and she wasn't exactly in Hell either. She was in-between, somehow travelling the mortal world without being felt or seen…maybe she was a ghost, just one that didn't really do anything to anyone. She certainly had unfinished business, but there was no way to finish it now: Eddie had already Moved On (yes, it seemed in her mind that the worlds deserved proper capitalization) and Frank was nowhere to be found. So she stuck.

But maybe that was how she could save herself, by helping someone else. Her death—could she really call it a murder?—had happened nearly twenty-six years ago, and still she had Moved On. Stuck in limbo, as it were, she had taken time to see it all: Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia, the whole shebang. And finally, she had decided to go home…but Denton bored her and reminded her of what was and what is, so she fled and took the chance to see the rest of the country, sweet America, land of rock-n-roll. California, Nevada, Texas, Louisiana, Florida, Tennessee, and then finally, she ended up in New York. Weeks of aimlessly roaming around had brought her to the seedier side of NYC, and in spite of the fact that she was in no real danger, she became afraid. She walked quickly, looking over her shoulder in paranoia, rounding each corner carefully, until she accidently stumbled upon him: Small, lithe, Hispanic, but adorable, the sort of boy that would have been her best friend. He was drumming a mean beat on the city street with his meager possessions, getting by in the truly rock-n-roll way of things, on only the scraps he apparently earned from his drumming. She wished she had something to give the boy, but she was flat-broke even if she wasn't dead, so moved slowly on by, savoring the music as she wound her way back up the streets. Not but an alleyway away, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of a badly broken body. Panicked, she ran back.

"Hey! Hey you! Ya gotta come help!" She raced to the boy's side, wheedling him with her nasally voice. "Some guy's badly beat up and—hey! Hey! Are ya even listening to me?"

Frustrated with her inability to help, panic swelling her bosom, Columbia grabbed the drummer's wrists insistently, conveniently ignoring the way her hands passed right through.

"Ya gotta come help!"

The boy looked up, puzzled, but kept on drumming. This time she grabbed his shoulders.

"C'mon!"

He stopped again, then heard the low moan. He was at the other man's side in an instant.

"You okay, honey?" Columbia's heart warmed a little at the boy's voice, so soft, so full of concern.

"I'm afraid so," replied the other, forcing himself into a sitting position. Columbia's personal panic for the man lessened as she watched the little drummer boy take care of him, learning with only some vague surprise that it was Christmas Eve…again.

"I'm Angel."

"Angel…indeed. An Angel of the first degree."

And Columbia watched them leave together, arm in arm, with the feeling that she had sparked something quite accidently. Over the next few months, she watched the spark grow and blossom into a passionate love for once another, the man—Collins—and the boy—Angel. Angel, for all his kindness and joy, for all his similarity to Columbia herself, hurt her a little in the heart. He was a cross-dresser, like Frank. A good one, though, unlike Frank: For though Columbia loved the doctor very much, he looked nowhere near as adorable in drag as Angel. She was happy to watch the romance as it budded, oddly unable to leave them; after all, she had eternity, didn't she? She may as well spend some of that time watching a happy love story.

It was all a fairytale…until the unthinkable happened.

A/N: DundunDUN! XD Hai guys! This is just a quickie for me, I promise...but someone mentioned that they wanted more RENT fic, and the little Collie that lives in my head said she wanted to do some good. Sorry if it all sucks, it was done in one night and might lack a bit. Use your imagination is my suggestion. :) This is kind of my explaniation of both Angel and Collins' way-too-coincidental first meeting and Columbia's story post-Rocky Horror. If you don't like, bleh! ;D BTW, yes, I know the inside has a different title. That's because I liked them both. So, again, bleh! ;3 ~BritLuvr~