'Til Death Do Us Part

Chapter 7: PEACE

SUMMARY: Collins believes he is dreaming when he sees his deceased lover sitting at the end of his bed.. The first part of this chapter takes place just after Angel's funeral, but the rest takes place after the final scene. This final chapter is solely focused on Collins and his dealing with the aftermath of Angel's death.

FINAL CHAPTER

"Angel!" Collins' voice was shaky and his lip quivered; tears blurred his vision and the sight of the glowing person in front of him became slightly distorted until he finally wiped his eyes. No way… no… it couldn't be! He figured he was either dreaming, or just going completely insane and deluded from the grief, but there was no doubt of what Collins was seeing sitting in front of him – or should I say, who?

Angel could see the confusion in his lover's eyes… now that he was in the eternal realm, he could see into people's souls a lot more clearly – and Collins was no different. So much pain, confusion, and anger were radiating out of his eyes… and Angel couldn't help but feel that he was partly responsible, even though he couldn't have controlled what happened. So much that had confused him before, now became clearer now that he didn't exist in the world where so many of his problems were created, and where so many of them were resolved. It was like, now, getting an outsider's perspective on the whole concept of life.

"You're okay…" he made the comment.

Collins had to wet his lips which had become dry from shock, and struggled to maintain his composure. He was leaving New York soon, and didn't know where he was heading. Roger had already left New York, and everyone else was wrapped up in their own problems… nothing was the same and their friendships, in his mind, could never be as they once were. A part of him actually blamed Angel for coming into their lives and having such an impact, that when he left them he took a part of them all with him… and left the rest of them so muddled up and hurt that they couldn't see anything beyond them own selves any longer. Angel could hear his ragged breathing; the heaviness that was Collins inhaling and exhaling the cold air around him… and Angel knew that he blamed him.

"W… wh… what?" Collins stammered, his voice was soft and breathy. So many emotions began to flood into his heart, giving him the feeling of drowning in his own soul. Curiosity now started to over take him, and slowly he began to reach out, not believing what he was seeing. No, he thought. Fuck this, he's dead! Man… I'm dreaming…

"You're not dreaming," Angel stated, in a matter-of-fact kind of way. He didn't read Collins' mind, but the two had been so much in love – they could read each other's souls, even before he had passed away. He hated hurting Collins as much as he had, and for him there was nothing that was more painful than to see his boyfriend in pain. The thing with Collins, to Angel, was that he had been so understanding and accepting of the drag queen… very warm and open-hearted. Collins had let Angel be himself, and vice versa, and that's why their relationship was the strongest out of all of the relationships in their group. They didn't expect anything but love from each other, and that's what they got… they didn't need to hear to words from each other, because they already could read it in their eyes, in their touch, in their kisses, in their scent… unlike Roger and Mimi, Collins and Angel were absolute in their love, and committed to each other to the ends of the earth and existence itself.

"A… Angel?" Collins was still having trouble accepting the idea that his dead lover was sitting on the end of his bed. In two days, he would be leaving New York. Perhaps Angel was here to convince him to stay, if not for his sake… for their friends.

"W… what…?"

"What am I doing here?" Angel helped him out, guessing what Collins wanted to say. He stretched out his arms, casually.

"Honey, don't stress… I'm just here to see how you're doin',"

Collins outstretched his arm further, and his hand slowly tried to touch Angel's shoulder, and to his complete surprise, he felt his skin come in contact with Angel's. Collins jumped backwards, and quickly tried to put distance between himself and the 'ghost'. It had to be his mind fucking with him, he determined. As a college professor, all his logic and rationality was being put to the ultimate test now, and Angel sitting in front of him pretty much defied his, and all of society's understandings of life, death, and the paranormal. Therefore, he concluded, this had to be a dream. His own mind, which he had depended on to get him through life for years, had turned on him and was now fucking with him.

Angel couldn't help but be hurt at his lover's resistance to believing that he was actually in the room with him… Collins' skepticism did hurt. Because that meant he was resisting in his belief of life beyond death, and if that was the case… they wouldn't be reunited at the end of Collins' time on earth. Angel's eyes lowered and he blinked tears away. Yes, even angels could cry… they cried all the time when evil struck again on earth.

"You don't believe," he commented and idly traced his fingers over the stitching of the blanket.

"That hurts… stings…"

Collins' chest heaved and fell with each deep breath he took in… he needed more oxygen in his system so he could get his brain into 'full function' mode, in attempts to rationally explain what was happening.

"This is a fucking dream…" he breathed and pulled the blanket and sheets to his chest. "It can't be real… you're not real… you – you're dead!"

Angel chuckled, bitterly. "Yeah. I know. Believe me, darlin'. I know."

Collins choked up. Every part of his heart was telling him that this was real; that Angel was really sitting on his bed. Yet his mind, the logical, rational organ in his body, was telling him that this was physiologically impossible. Angel was dead and buried. Angel sighed.

"I should've known…" he spoke softly. "A college professor doesn't let his heart stand before his logic."

"Wh—what's happening?"

Angel turned to him and held his hand… Collins recoiled for a split second, before feeling the exact same tenderness and love that Angel had always given him. No… this was really happening.

"I told you… I came to see how you were doin'… not very good, I see…"

Collins shivered from a mixture of the cold and of the situation. Everything he knew about the world; his theories of death and actual reality; his philosophies of life after death; everything he learned from those great philosophers of the ages – Immanuel Kant, Aristotle, Plato… if this wasn't a dream; if this wasn't a hallucination brought about by the intensity of the grief he was going through… then what did this mean?

"I… I…" he couldn't seem to form single sentences, let alone verbalise what was going on inside him. Part of him was thrilled to see his Angel again, but another part was absolutely terrified. Angel shifted his position on the bed so he was comfortably facing the older man, and reached forward and touched Collins' leg.

"Shh," he soothed; his voice was smooth like silk and was music to his lover's ears. Collins never thought he'd hear or feel the comfort of Angel's beautiful voice ever again, so if this was the last time he would get to see him; talk to him… then he would take this opportunity to be with him one last time. The shock finally began to wear off and Collins finally relaxed himself to the point where things became infinitely clearer. Angel noticed this and moved even closer and opened his arms, silently imploring Collins to embrace him. It took no hesitation on Collins' part and he gently tugged on the silky white material of Angel's outfit and pulled the smaller guy into his arms and burst into tears.

"Oh, baby," Angel cooed, resting his head on Collins' chest and could feel each sob escaping Collins' heart and soul.

"It's okay… everything's working out! See? I'm home!"

Collins wiped his eyes. "Heaven?"

"No," Angel smiled. "With you. Not literally, of course. But now I can never leave you… not at home."

The two of them were wrapped in each other's arms. Neither were content with them now being worlds apart, literally, but somehow, knowing that Angel was safe in the after life, Collins was more comforted than ever before. It was everything to him to know Angel was no longer suffering, and was continuing to wait for him –forever, if necessary – and that not even death could tear their love apart. But somehow, no matter how comforted he was, it still was not enough.

"This is fucked up," Collins muttered under his breath, but Angel heard and he sat up to see his eyes.

"No kidding. I just… honey, you can't leave…"

The professor's eyes widened. "How do you—?"

"Tom, I just know, okay? They need you at the moment… Mimi needs you; Mark, Maureen, Joanne… hell, even Benny! They all need you… and Roger…"

"Roger's skipped town."

"I know. But he'll be back, just give him time… but you can't leave… look, I know you blame them for what happened… not being there for me or whatever." Angel planted a kiss on Collins' lips before continuing. "But they were there for me, Tom. And I was," he paused. "AM so lucky to have had you all in my life, you know that… you gotta hold things together, and then everything will fall into place."

Collins shook his head. "It's too hard… why should I have to hold it all together, when we're all just falling apart? You're the one who held us all together."

Angel smiled. "No. Love held everyone together. Death can make you question whether love exists, or if it's worth anything…"

Collins held Angel closer and kissed his forehead. It was true – all of them had been held together by something intangible; something more and bigger than them… things just weren't the same anymore, and he couldn't believe that Angel, his dead Angel, was claiming that things could be the same.

"No…" Angel said, causing him to break out of his thoughts and jump in surprise. "I don't think things can… or are supposed to… remain the same." His smile vanished and he rubbed his lover's arms.

"Every day is different. Nothing remains the same… I just don't want to see my friends fall apart over this. Over things that are so tiny and worthless…"

"Trust and honesty are worthless?"

"No. I'm talking about pride. What's pride worth when you got nothing – or no one – to be proud about?"

"Angel," Collins tried to reason, but then remembered that reason probably wasn't appropriate at the moment.

"I… I can't… Roger's gone… Mimi's missing… Joanne and Maureen are caught up in their own issues; Mark's so wrapped up in his film; Benny, he's – he's just Benny. We've gone our separate ways!"

"And you'll need each other more than ever soon, you'll see it. Remember? Today for you; tomorrow for me?" Angel stood up on the bed and smiled, closed his eyes, and spread his arms out like he had wings. He was glowing and radiated the aura of an actual angel that filled Collins' heart with a sense of purity and light. Angel opened his eyes and looked down at the man before him, hoping to convince him to do the right thing before everything slipped through his fingers and everyone fell apart forever. He dropped to his knees on the bed and leaned in and kissed Collins, passionately yet tenderly. After a few moments, he reluctantly pulled away and opened his eyes.

"I love you, honey," he whispered. "And I always will… I'll always wait for you! And we will be together again," he stood up and got off the bed. "As soon as your time here is done… and after all… it's what we do with our time given to us on this side of the grave that determines where we go on the other side. Your time; your destiny has yet to be written… and only you can determine what and how it'll be written, darlin'."

Collins bit his lip – it sounded like Angel was saying goodbye all over again. Not another one, he couldn't take another goodbye… not another one. Angel kissed him again and then stood back, also having to hold back the tears. He was sent here to deliver a message, though he couldn't let his lover be left without the answers he needed to here… but he had no choice in the matter.

"I love you," Angel reaffirmed and Collins got to his feet, and pulled Angel into another embrace.

"I love you too," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Angel, you can't leave. Not again. Not fucking again!" they kissed and Angel, once again, had to pull away. Forcing himself to step away, Angel slowly began to fade away.

"No," Collins protested, and stepped forward with his arm outreached, but instead of being able to feel Angel's skin, his hand went straight through him, and he stumbled back in shock.

"Angel, don't—"

"Collins, make this right," Angel urged. "You know I love you and I'll wait forever for you… but now they need your help. Mimi needs you; she's dying! And she'll die before realizing the love she has… no one should die like that."

"Angel—"

"I love you. A thousand sweet kisses later, and I still love you as strongly as I did ten months ago. Goodbye, love…"

With those last lingering words, Angel disappeared for good, leaving Collins alone in the cold, dark room with no more sounds but those of the sobs that released only tiny amounts of the pain he was feeling.

2 MONTHS LATER – DECEMBER 25th A/N: One day after the story in the actual play, ends, I am aware

Mimi and Roger had realized their love for each other, and the group had come together again, including Benny… so what was wrong? Everyone wasn't exactly happy… but they were content that things had worked out. But with Collins, nothing seemed right anymore. Everyone had everything they wanted, or at least they thought they did – Maureen and Joanne; Roger and Mimi were all in love… Mark had finished his film… Benny had come to peace with them all and his conscience was clear… but what did Collins gain from all this? Nothing, at least that's what his thought. His lover, his best friend… Angel… was gone. No day but today. That's what they had all agreed on just the day before, a reaffirmation of their belief in love and friendship. And these past few months had tested Tom Collins' belief in love and friendship to its limits, and he still wasn't sure if it was real or not. Was the ten months he had with Angel real? Or just a dream? Did Angel really exist in anywhere except his heart; his mind? Was anything Angel said, real? Or were they just words of comfort to ease the pressure of the pain on Collins' heart?

He wandered through the cemetery at a pace that was slower than a snail's, though the world seemed to be spinning. All around him were the gravestones of the deceased from recent burials, and those that had come to pass more than a hundred years ago, all mingled within each other, reinforcing the notion that time really does not have a place within the spectrum of death. His fingers gently grazed an old tombstone that was so old, the name was still prominently clear but the dates of birth and death were now illegible… it, along with many of the other tombstones in the cemetery, were not kept up with the times. Time. How much of it would pass before Collins would feel life flowing through his heart again? How long before he could start to live again? How long until his existence, without Angel, had meaning? He didn't think his life had much meaning before or after Angel… but when he had him, it was very different… it was like God, Himself, had delivered a lightning bolt of passion and energy through him again. After all, Angel was like a lightning bolt – so energetic and powerful, and lit up everyone and everything that surrounded him… and the power that he passed along to anyone he touched, physically, spiritually, or emotionally… it was stunningly beautiful, in a slightly dark and even twisted way. But Angel was love. And just like lightning, he provided the light in the darkest of times and the most hopeless of situations… how could anyone go on without someone like that in their life?

After what seemed a lifetime, Collins came to stop just in front of one of the newest graves there… after two months, the disturbed soil had only just began to settle, and new grass began to grow over it. There was snow covering various parts of the grounds, and Angel's gravesite was no exception… the cool, wet air lifted the scent of nature and gave it a powerful boost.

"So…" he spoke to Angel, though not expecting another response. "What now? I did everything you told me… after I left, I couldn't stay away… and now, everything's perfect. Well, for them. So… what now?"

As creepy as it sounds, Collins found the cemetery a surprisingly peaceful place… it was so quite, and not really thinking about the decaying bodies rotting underground – to him, it was like each of the deceased were being returned to the earth from which they were, supposedly, created from. But it was peaceful, nonetheless. And while he wasn't expecting a response, he did feel Angel's spirit with him all the time… but again, that wasn't enough anymore. Some days he just wished that the disease would hurry up and ravage him to the point where he could just be reunited with his love. But other days, he was thankful to still be alive.

"It's such a fucking soap opera," he chuckled, bitterly. "Like Dynasty or whatever… everything bad happens to everyone, and we all deal with it in ways that could destroy us. That's some way to measure our lives, right?" he sighed and closed his eyes, sitting down in front of the grave.

"And you wanna know the worst thing about it, Angel? I don't care to move on. You told me to love again and be happy, but I… it doesn't matter anymore. Being happy? Or being right? Whatever… fuck it all, it doesn't matter. But…" he looked around, and still he was alone (physiologically).

"It's getting better, Ang. As sick as it sounds, I can't help but trying to count the days until I die; until I can hold and love you again… and I can't help but wonder with every cold I get, or every cough I have… if it'll be the beginning of the end. And I can't help but look forward to it."

He smiled. "The family died, and you resurrected it, Angel… and I dunno if I can ever move on from you; and to be honest, I don't care if I do or not. Whatever happens I don't think I'll be able to control it, but whatever… I guess I'll deal with it when it comes. Until then, I don't think I'll be coming back… I'll try not to."

It was painful for him to say those words, that he wouldn't come back to continue mourning his lover… maybe it was the first step to him moving on or not… probably not… but he just couldn't do it anymore.

Choking back tears, he crept forward and lightly touched the tombstone. "I love you, Angel. And…" he paused to quickly let out a sob, but then regained his composure. It was so hard for him to do this, but all of this wasn't healthy for him anymore.

"The thing is… I just don't wanna do this anymore. I love you so much, and to see all this love around me and not be able to have you with me, I just… I can't do it. I love you. And I'm sorry…"

He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets and felt the cool breeze brush across the back of his neck, sending chills running down his spine.

"Hey," came a voice from behind, startling him. Collins turned around and saw Roger standing there.

"Roger, hey," Collins greeted him and hugged the other man. Roger returned the hug.

"How you doin', man?" the musician asked, genuinely concerned with Collins' wellbeing. So much had been left unsaid between them both and it was all only just resurfacing after everything. It had been a year since they had all met Angel; since Angel had swept into their lives and gave back to them everything they had started to let go of. Now, two months after his death, they were back to where things were. Collins shrugged.

"Had better days," was his truthful reply.

"I get it," Roger sympathized. "I'm sorry…"

"Forget it," Collins dismissed his friend's apology. "You got nothing to be sorry for, Roger. All of it's happened… nothing can change that…"

"Angel really fucked up our lives," Roger chuckled and patted Collins' shoulder, reassuringly.

"No kidding. He was my whole world."

"You should've seen it," Roger started to reminisce. "From the outside… Angel adored you, Tom. Everything about you."

"I don't know why," his friend confessed. "I always wondered what he saw in a guy like me."

Roger paused. "Love," he reasoned. "Angel saw love in you. I see it, man. I see what he saw… love, warmth, beauty… everything that makes a man a good person, he saw in you."

"Oh yeah?" Collins scoffed and the two started walking down the pathway towards the exit of the cemetery.

"How you know that?"

Roger shrugged and flicked strands of his long blonde hair from his face and shivered in the cold.

"I just do, man… you shouldn't have suffered the way you have…"

"Angel was gonna die either way," Collins snapped, unintentionally, and he quickly softened his tone of voice. "And I was gonna suffer no matter when he died…"

"Yeah, well, we didn't exactly make the mourning period easier for you. Wish there was some way I could change it all…"

"Forget it, Roger," Collins said again and held the gate open and he walked through it, followed by Roger.

"It's over with. Done. I'll never get over Angel, but I sure as hell am not gonna cry myself to death. Not now. If I did, it'd make all these past few months pointless. I'm fine, man. I'll get through it."

Roger and Collins parted ways at the main road, as the musician would be returning to the loft to take care of Mimi who really wasn't feeling well, and Collins would be heading towards New York University where he was up for a new job. There was no doubt in any of their minds that they would never get through mourning Angel's passing… and there were no guarantees for Collins that as the years would go by that the pain of the memories would lesson as they lingered in his heart.

For ten or so months, Tom Collins and Angel Schunard had been the envied couple out of all of them… they shared more love in less than a year than most couples, homosexual or heterosexual, would share in ten life times. Maybe that's because they both knew that they were on borrowed time and that early death was a certainty in both their lives that would rip them, physically, apart from each other.

The thing was, despite everything, Collins had cried all he could, yelled and screamed until his throat was dry, and still nothing could express the hurt, the regret he felt about how he handled everything. Of course there was the guilt of still being blessed with life, while the younger Angel, at 22, had to give up his life to the disease that was killing so many in the late 1980's.

As he walked slowly down the street, as the snow began to fall, and the memories of him and Angel dancing in the subway car, and kissing in the snow, and just being together, flooded through his mind – everything suddenly began to make sense. Angel's death. Mark's film. Benny's remorse. Mimi's illness. Roger's pride. Joanne's frustration. Maureen's theatrics. It was all apart of their own world together… it made sense to know one but them, because they were the ones living the lives of bohemians. Living with little materialistic goods, but also encompassing everything that was good about Man and the world… sharing the love, the friendship, the family… that was their world. Angel had brought them together again. And love held them together.
Collins smiled and turned the corner, and the cemetery disappeared from view…

"Thanks, Angel…"

THE END!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The end. Finished. Let me know what you think by reviewing. Thanks!