Angel listened attentively to the whole story, from her birth to her death to her afterlife to her admittedly wrong stalking of him and his lover. He never stopped to correct her, or accuse her, or berate her, only to ask questions. He thrilled her, his audience, his attention.
"And as near as I can figure out, I'll be stuck here 'til the end of time!"
He nodded slowly, soaking it all in.
"So…we're…ghosts, then?"
"Sorta, I guess."
He stared forlornly out the subway window. Columbia had tried to talk him into moving out of New York, but he knew nothing could tear him out of the city of his lover, death included. He had lost his luster, his life, and Columbia had assumed the role of guardian and guide.
"Hey, cheer up!"
"I can't," he sighed, leaning back against the seat. "Collins and I…we really found it, love, and now it's gone."
"It's not gone," she said quietly, sitting next to him in the nearly-empty compartment. "Love can't get lost, doesn't go away…love is forever." And her eyes, he saw all the pain of loving two men and losing them both, even in the afterlife. "You won't wait forever. I might—mine are long gone—but your's will come back someday."
Angel nodded quietly, sensing her truth. It was best to wait.