DESTROYED

Chapter 16

SUMMARY: Collins arrives back at Angel's room to see his lover gone and a puddle of blood on the floor. Have your tissues ready. A tender moment between Mimi and Collins.
Collins leaned against the back of the elevator, thinking about what just happened with Sam… how dare that fucking asshole think he has the right to – well, let's just say he wasn't entirely please. He had pushed the junkie off him and was surprised at the fact that he didn't launch himself at him again, and had showed some amazingly good self restraint. Collins just walked away. He wanted to get back to Angel's side and stew in his own anger for a while and forget about what happened… overall, Collins was proud of himself for actually walking away from Sam - in both the physical and spiritual sense. It became easier the further he walked, and now hopefully he'd be back at Angel's side before he woke up. If only he knew… the one thing Collins was sure about was that none of this would've happened if he had 1) not cheated on Angel (obviously!) and 2) if he had been honest with him and his friends to begin with. But now Angel was on the road to recovery, things were starting to look up – they had to. Meanwhile, after Collins walked away for what was, in his mind, the last time, Sam was left in near hysterics and in bloody pain to tend to his own wounds, or wait for a Good Samaritan to come along and offer some assistance. For him, as much as it felt like Collins was letting go, he could not… his whole existence and subsequent future was forever tied to the man he loved – who was the man who had also delivered into his body the deadly virus that would eventually lead to his death. So many conflicting emotions – hate, fear, love, obsession, loneliness… none of which Collins had to face anymore (or at least until he got back to Angel's hospital room).

The doors opened and Collins walked into the main corridor and turned and walked towards Angel's room. He could hear in the distance, a bit of a commotion going on around the corner, so he picked up his pace. What the hell was going on? For some instinctive reason, he started to panic and fear the worst and his quickened pace then turned into a jog. Collins felt his heart start beating so fast that it was like it was humming instead of beating and beads of sweat seeped through his pores. Why he had the gut feeling that something was wrong with his Angel, he didn't know…

Upon turning the corner, Collins' worst fears were confirmed and he came to a sudden stop… his eyes widened and his heart caught in his chest. The light just above the door, the one that signals that there is an emergency or some sort of problem, was flashing Angel's room number, and there were two nurses and two cops crowding around the door, and looked very concerned (is the most delicate way to put it). Collins stood there; confused for what seemed a lifetime, but was only really a few seconds… his whole world collapsed right there and then and his heart slammed against his ribcage, almost bursting out of his chest. He felt his lungs and throat constrict, like not wanting to breathe anymore, because he already knew his life was over…

"Oh God…" he managed to choke out and blinked away tears that blurred his eyes... and his soul. Forcing his feet to move forward, Collins felt his body move with them and panic now replaced the concern. Each step he took, he got faster and faster, and there he stood Emily who was almost in hysterics, talking with another nurse. The other nurse looked past Emily and saw a tall, African-American male with a look of desperation on his face, stumbling towards them and she pointed it out to Emily, who subsequently turned around just as Collins stopped in front of her.

"What happened!" he yelled and didn't wait for an answer – instead, he pushed past both of them and ran over to the doorway where two police officers were blocking the entrance way. "WHAT HAPPENED? Where is he!"

Both officers each grabbed him by an arm and tried to restrain him. "Sir, calm down!"
One of them ordered. Again, Collins wouldn't listen and tears were flowing freely down his face as he built himself into a state of absolute hysteria. Struggling against the weight of the two men in front of him, Collins pushed forward though was held back by the officers. However, he managed to push in enough to snap the crime scene tape that had been placed across the door and he looked in.

"God no…" he sobbed and his panicky eyes roamed the room only to find that Angel's bed was no longer there. "ANGEL!" he screamed, feeling the energy draining from him and his legs buckled on the pressure of his own weight. "WHERE'S ANGEL!" but his understandably distraught emotional reaction was only further heightened and horrified when he lowered his gaze to the floor, as his eyes had been drawn to the coloured stain that sharply stained the dull grey floor… a deep red, thick substance had soaked into the carpet and there was a lot of it.

"No…" his bottom lip quivered and he broke down, falling to the ground sobbing while the two officers still held him by the arms and all four of them (the two nurses and the two officers) just looked down at him with all sympathy written on their faces, none of them really knowing what to do or say to comfort the broken young man. The older officer looked at his partner and nodded in a gesture to help this guy over to a chair or something to support him. He felt himself being pulled up gently and the two cops talking quietly with each other, before feeling a cold hard surface beneath him. Not having any strength other than to sob openly in hands and weakly struggle to get back into the room, Collins slumped down in the chair and the guilt of leaving Angel alone immediately hit him. They both knew this was a possibility…

Officer Timmons, the older of the two cops, placed a sympathetic hand on Collins' shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, sir…" he knelt down next to him. His partner, Officer McMahon, stood on the other side of the grief-stricken man with the same look on his face.

"Sir, what's your name?" Officer Timmons inquired, making sure to keep his voice gentle and non-confrontational or harsh.

"Where's Angel?" Collins ignored his question, and spoke softly, straining with grief and a sudden loss of energy.

"Sir, if you could just tell me who you are and—"

"Don't 'sir' me!" Collins interrupted, forcefully. "Where is he!"

"Collins," Emily rushed to his side after finally finding her voice and the strength to move, and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands in her own and looked up at him with big, soft eyes. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault, I should've heard something, I—"

"Where is he!" Collins repeated, just wanting an answer. "JUST TELL ME!" he looked in Emily's eyes and then whispered… "Please, Emily! Where is he?"

"Angel…" Emily choked up. "I didn't hear a thing! I should've but… he was attacked… someone sneaked in and, and… cut him up pretty bad. Including his throat."
Collins lost it and started shaking and rocking back and forth uncontrollably, his nerves were shot to pieces and nothing made sense anymore… who could've done such a thing? Crying into his hands, Collins repeatedly whispered Angel's name.

"Is he…?"

"No!" Emily replied quickly. "Collins, he's alive… he's in surgery now!"

He raised his head to look at her in her eyes, his own eyes having turned steely and cold, and hard.

"Where were you?" he growled. "Where were you when it happened!"

"I'm sorry!" It was Emily's turn to cry. "I should've I know! Whoever it was… he was gone by the time I got there! He must've climbed over the balcony outside Angel's room, I—"

"Ma'am," Officer McMahon directed at Emily. "Ma'am, we must ask you to stand aside…"

Emily obeyed and reluctantly let go of Collins and stood up. Her fellow nurse gently pulled her aside and both watched the two officers try to calm the man down.

"Sir," McMahon tried to reach through to Collins. "Are you a relative of Mr. Schunard?"

Collins didn't initially reply – reality had fallen away and now a nightmare had taken over him, one that was real but he didn't want to believe it. He wanted to keep it distant and subjected to the workings of his subconscious, but it wasn't really working… after seeing the vast amount of blood that had seeped into the carpet on the floor of Angel's room, his heart had shattered and his mind filled with dread and self-loathing for leaving him.

"Sir?" the other officer, Timmons, also tried. "Who are you? What's your name?"

Collins glared up at them and wasn't really concerned about responding to any questions they may have… and he didn't care about what they would think about him or Angel upon learning of their relationship; he didn't care about a police investigation. Angel was in surgery almost to the point of death again, and even if he did survive only God knows what this will do to him… not even Angel could regain his emotional strength after this. And Collins once again let him down (or so Collins thought).

"Tom…" he found his voice and gave the two cops his answer. "Collins."

McMahon wrote the name down on his notepad, while Timmons continued to question him.

"Are you Mr. Schunard's brother? Friend?"

Collins directed his eyes to stare at the floor as if something was drawing his attention there like a magnet. Following the NYPD's obvious lack of interest the first time Angel was attacked, by digging into their relationship and subsequent lifestyle would only make things worse for them all. But he didn't care anymore – not that he did to begin with, but now wasn't the time to play games and worry about their judgment.

"No…" he replied, softer than a mouse. "He's my lover… my soul…"

McMahon and Timmons were both slightly taken aback by that revelation and glanced at each other, as if silently asking each other what to do next. Collins could see the hesitation from both of them, but it didn't both him… he was used to it, as was Angel. But no matter what, he'd make sure Angel's dignity remained in tact, since he wasn't here to defend himself.

"I don't expect anything from you," Collins continued, harshly. "So let me give you a head start. There's my ex-boyfriend, Samuel Michaels, who I left withering in pain outside this hospital, in which I can only assume he called me out to distract me while someone snuck into Angel's room to kill him. Last week Sam attacked and raped Angel to get back at me; he stabbed him and left him to rot in an alleyway. Sam never got over the fact that I broke up with him two years ago, and let me tell you something," he stood up and came face-to-face with a stunned Officer McMahon.

"Angel… he has AIDS. He's a drag queen street drummer. And he's the love of my life, and if he dies…and you don't do anything to find the son of a bitch who did it," his voice cracked with high emotion. "Trust me, I will raise hell. Angel deserves as much justice as any of those rich fuckers living on the Upper East Side and so far, nothings been done about him being attacked and raped last week despite your fellow cops being told who did it. Now, tell me you're not gonna do anything…"

Neither of the cops knew how to respond to what he had said, and neither could deny that what he was saying is false, because generally enough it wasn't rare when those types of people, such as Angel, got thrown aside while they paid more attention to the tax payers and those whom society deems actually 'matter'.

"Mr. Collins, I–"

"I can see it," Collins interrupted, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I can see the judgment, and I don't give a fuck about what you think… all I want is for you to do your God damn jobs and find the son of a bitch who tried to hurt Angel!"

The flourishing anger in him was burning a fire within him that couldn't be extinguished without confirmation that Angel would be okay, though he wouldn't be surprised if his lover didn't forgive him for leaving his side, even when he specifically asked him not to.

Officer Timmons reached into his jacket's inside pocket and pulled out a piece of pen and a pad to get more details, just as Collins turned away and brushed past him and made it to the still-open doorway of the empty hospital room and leaned against the wall for support and seeing the blood – Angel's blood – slowly spreading out across the floor and the crimson colour of the pooled liquid of life was reflected by the light that came from the bedside lamp.

Collins began to shake uncontrollably and folded his arms around himself as if trying to keep himself together, in one piece. Silent tears screamed louder than his sobbing, and he gazed around the dim lighting, reflecting as best as he could on what just happened. If Angel died, there would be no reason for him to live anymore… the guilt after what happened last week, on top of what happened three months ago, and now this (after finally being able to let go of Sam and his past) – it was all too much now. And how could he face Angel even if he did survive and recover?

Standing there and suddenly feeling a cold tingling sensation run down his spine, Collins stood up and moved further into room, and even cringed slightly as if he could really hear Angel's screams as the knife slid into his delicate skin. His heart was pulverized with grief that seemed to seep tears of grief, replacing the rivers of blood that sustained his life with just pure, undiluted pain. That's all he felt inside now… harshness. Officer McMahon quickly moved forward and put his hand on Collins' shoulder to pull him back and out of the room.

"Sir, you can't go in there! It's a crime scene!"

Collins shook him off and didn't turn around, continuing to move forward like he didn't even hear him. Both officers, by right, should've stopped him from going in there and contaminating the crime scene, but there was something different about this situation than any others. This 'Collins' guy seemed to know exactly what was going on… and they already had lifted prints and hair and fibers, so that wasn't a problem. But there was something about this situation that called for their restraint and their sympathy… neither man moved, and all four of them watched as Collins knelt down next to the pool of blood.

Sitting on his knees, he reached down and let his index and middle fingers of his left hand come into contact with the recently spilt blood that was taking its time in soaking into the carpet. The liquid was cool and wet to the touch… no life was in it anymore, and Collins shivered at the sudden change in temperature. A solitary tear rolled down his cheek and slipped off his chin, and into the blood. Curling his hand into a fist and squeezing, silently getting out the sudden rush of anger that almost caused him to fall backwards. Collins stood up and turned around, just as he was met by Officer Timmons, who glared at him.

"Sir, I insist you leave… out of the crime area, we gotta avoid—"

"Sorry," Collins whispered and quickly shuffled past him and left the room. As soon as he stepped back into the main corridor, he looked down at his fingers and the more visibly brighter red colour of the blood still had his attention, and it was then that the emotion consumed him, and he fell to the floor, sobbing. As other crime scene techs moved in and around him, Collins didn't notice any of it and Emily rushed to his side – everything was blurred beyond comprehension now.

THE NEXT MORNING – 9:00AM

All six of them sat outside of Angel's new ICU room religiously not moving. Of course, Benny had declined the invitation, citing extremely important work to be done, and that was no surprise… no one wanted him around anyway. Cops had come back and forth every now and then to see if they could get anymore information out of any of them, but none were that forthcoming. After all, why trust the so-called 'law enforcement' when they didn't do anything to help Angel as he was lying in the middle of an alleyway, dying… the criminal justice system would barely flinch to accommodate their needs, and so why bother now?

Apparently Angel was still in surgery – Roger was sitting with Joanne, and they were either side of Maureen who was sobbing hysterically and occasionally crying out Angel's name in agony. Mark, who for once didn't have his camera with him, was talking with a doctor, trying to push for more information even though the doctor had no more at that moment. And Collins was sitting on the floor, against the opposite wall, with his knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, and he wasn't talking to anyone, listening, or even acknowledging anyone or his surroundings. Mimi moved away from where she was standing, just next to Roger, and cautiously approached the silent and very cold-looking friend, and she could see he was internally torturing himself with grief and guilt. Not saying anything, she sat down next to him and stretched her legs out in front of herself, and thought about how to talk to him. She was pretty sure that he knew she was there; he wasn't stupid… but right now, Mimi wanted to make sure he wouldn't snap and do something stupid. Her naïve innocence would prove to come in handy in this situation…

"Hey Collins…" she said, softly, really not knowing what else to say – the situation was on a knife's edge, it could go either way depending on whether or not Angel survived through the surgery. Collins' eyes were dark and unreadable, and he didn't respond to her or flinch when she reached over and touched his arm. "How you doin'?"

She held onto his arm for comfort; her warm skin trembling with anticipation at his next move, if he would make one. For Mimi, Collins had always been strength to her, a sense of comfort and to now been in a position where the roles are reversed; it was a whole new thing to her. Only recently were they all beginning to move past the happenings of the past few months and began to make sense of things, and Angel was the one who was getting victimized over and over again. Mimi was so close to Angel that it was hard to imagine life without him, and so she couldn't even begin to wonder the hurt Collins must be feeling. How do you comfort someone when the torture they have been inflicted with, has been done with their own hand? Someone who inflicting self-torture on the belief that it's the only way to relieve themselves of the guilt. It was on overwhelming situation for her to be in, but all she could do was sit there and be her self.

Resting her head on his shoulder and giving his arm an affectionate squeeze, Mimi felt the coldness of the wall pressing against her back, sending shivers down her spine. Still, Collins maintained its fixed position, focused on the floor. He was too lost in his own misery and grief to stay connected with reality, and he was fine with that. He really didn't care anymore.

Roger shifted his focus for a moment away from Maureen, whose dramatic personality was really shining through now mixed with genuine grief (Maureen was not the kind of person to hide her feelings), to see where his girl was. Spotting Mimi sitting with Collins, Roger could see the vibe of vulnerable innocence trying to reach into a heart that had already solidified into coldness and broken from everything that was real and true. If anyone could get through to Collins, it would be Mimi.

Meanwhile, Joanne was embracing her distraught girlfriend who was sobbing into her neck.

"Honey bear," Joanne cooed. "He'll be okay… you know Angel, he won't go easily…"

"It's not fair!" Maureen cried, loudly enough to make more than one person wince from the sheer volume of her voice. "Angel can't die! Not after everything! It's not supposed to happen like this! It's not supposed to end like this!"

"Maureen, shut the hell up!" Roger hissed, nodding his head in the direction of Collins who was sitting in very close range of hearing everything they were saying. "We don't all need to go deaf!"

"Get over yourself, Roger!" Maureen snapped.

"Whatever."

"Fuck you…"

"What!"

"You heard me!"

"Both of you shut up," Mark walked over to them and sat down next to Joanne. "Fighting's not gonna help…"

"What'd the doctor say?" Joanne was the first to change the subject in attempts to cool the tension between Roger and Maureen, who were both too stubborn for their own good. Mark shrugged sadly and had a defeated look on his face.

"Nothing yet. Last he heard, it was fifty/fifty or something… he said Angel has lost a lot of blood."

Back with Collins and Mimi, the words that managed to filter through his ears and register any meaning within him, were Mark's words of '… Angel has lost a lot of blood…' and he closed his eyes, but in doing so it didn't prevent a tear from being released. A harsh reality that sooner rather than later he'd have to accept especially if Angel died…

Mimi hugged him closer and hoped he would open up to her, if no one else… The love between Collins and Angel was something none of them could really understand, as the two of them were at the point where they truly needed each other. Collins stared intently at the cold floor, not wanting to pity of Mimi or any of them – that in itself was a stupid thought, because they all loved Angel too. He could still feel the tenderness that Angel had kiss him with, and instinctively his fingers raised and touched his own lips, the first real conscious movement he had shown for many hours and it Mimi noticed it.

"Collins?" she tried again and reached over and grabbed his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from his face. Finally, Collins responded to her and turned his head; his expression remained very sad, yet distant. "Sweetie, he'll be okay…"

"Sure…" Collins whispered, now drained of any energy. "And I promised I wouldn't leave him."

"You were lured out, it wasn't your fault!" Mimi protested.

"Doesn't matter," Collins scoffed. "I sat on his bed… looked in his eyes… and promised him that I wouldn't leave. Nothing would've broken me from his side…"

"So…" Mimi paused. "What did?"

"I don't know," he confessed and choked back mores tears. "I don't know… when I got out there… Sam was there… and I couldn't resist. My body was pounding away at him, and it was like I was completely detached from him and everything! It was like I wasn't me anymore, Mims!"

She rubbed his arm and pressed her lips into a small line. Collins attacking anyone? Yes, that was completely uncharacteristic for him, but it was a natural human reaction. She only wished that she could've been there to cheer him on as Sam was getting beaten to a bloody pulp. Not saying anything, she let him continue…

"And… for everything it was worth, I completely forgot about being at Angel's bedside!" Collins explained everything as best he could but with everything that was going on around him, and the much screwed up nature of his mind at that point, nothing he could say would put things into perspective. He gripped Mimi's hand as if they were super glued together and the hysteria within him couldn't be concealed for much longer as his body began to shake even more; his nerves were way beyond rattled – they were shot straight to hell now. Mimi squeezed his hand back and remained silent for a few more moments… Collins was on the verge of a complete meltdown and she didn't want to be the one responsible for sending him over the edge. The police officers had disappeared, probably back to the crime scene which was almost contaminated thanks to Collins, but all six of them were now without disturbance from anyone outside their group. Mimi looked over at the other four and saw Mark and Joanne speaking softly while Joanne had her arm around Maureen, who was still sobbing. Roger (who, let's face it, is not the most sensitive guy on the planet), embraced her to let her know he was there, and Maureen seemed to respond to his masculine presence that could maybe provide a little more consolation and even protection than her girlfriend. She let go of Joanne and moved to Roger and let herself be brought into his arms… there was the comfort of a man that not even Joanne could provide, and Roger held her close and let her cry all she needed. The warmth of his body provided Maureen with some comfort… her closeness to Angel and the nature of their relationship was being put to the test, as were all of them. Maureen knew she had to try and remain strong for Collins, but she couldn't even stay strong for herself at that point… but it wasn't like Collins would've noticed anyway; he was still locked in his own world… his own void.

"Why the hell is God fucking with us? With Angel?" Maureen carelessly let her anger and passion flow without thought. Now was not the time to be pondering and questioning God's motives for this second attack on the one person they thought to be a true angel of His kingdom. Roger, slightly uncomfortable of being the one who had to come up with some sort of comforting and satisfying answer to her emotional outpour, just stroked her hair and rubbed her arm affectionately.

"I dunno," he replied, truthfully. "Can't tell you, Maureen…"

"It's like he's being punished for being himself!"

"Actually, it'd be more like he's being punished because Collins fucked up…" Roger pointed out, secretly raging at whoever was causing his friends – his family – so much pain… and he had a pretty good idea of who was behind it. It wasn't rocket science.

"Why does it have to keep happening to us?" she cried and sat up, wiping her eyes, and looked at Roger.

"It's not. It's happening to Collins and Angel…"

"It's happening to our friends, Rog!" she retorted. "That means its happening to the rest of us too! We gotta do something!"

"Like what, Maureen?" Roger's voice hinted an exasperated feeling that covered the true hurt that was attacking him. "What can we do now? I wanna kill Sam as much as you do."

"How do you know it's Sam?"

"You gotta be kidding, right? Do the math!"

"All I know is that our friend was lying in that bed, trying to get better, and instead is barely hanging onto life again!" it was no secret that Maureen still held a lot of resentment towards Collins for ditching Angel and all of them a few months ago, since she and him went way back and the betrayal even tore through her self-indulgent personality.

"Angel shouldn't be paying for Collins' mistakes!" she really didn't care if he heard her (even though he didn't – Collins really wasn't paying attention). I know what you must be thinking… Maureen's loyalties and even priorities are seriously misplaced as she's known Collins longer than Angel, and shouldn't really be taking sides – but that's Maureen. When she gets an idea in her head, or someone does something so stupid that… well, let's just say she's not exactly the most patient or tolerant person. When Collins left them all, she saw the devastating effect it had on Angel, who took it as the ultimate sign of betrayal and rejection, and it pained her and every one of them to see him slip so far away from who he really was. Angel became a different person entirely, and she couldn't get used to that.

"Maureen, shut up. It isn't Collins' fault… anymore…" Roger really didn't want to lose his temper – he could understand what Maureen was saying, though. But Collins didn't need to hear her laying into him and blaming him, when Roger was quite sure that the young anarchist professor was doing enough of the blaming on himself to last a long time.

"Whatever," she muttered and relaxed against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It's not gonna get any better, is it?"

"Not anytime soon…"

Collins leaned his head back until he felt the cold wall behind him. Looking up at the fluorescent lighting, he couldn't help but wonder if Angel would die hating him- he would, if the positions were reversed. But then again, Angel would never have cheated on him, abandoned him and then left him for a second time after reconciling… so Collins could find no fault in him should Angel either die with hate in his heart (which is not bloody likely, given Angel isn't a hateful person), or live and shut him out of his life forever. Mimi still hadn't moved from her position next to him, and just watched him carefully, wondering what must be going on inside his head. Still with their fingers interlocked and the closeness they were sitting to each other, Mimi could feel Collins' bodily reaction to the circumstances… he was shaking uncontrollably, and beads of sweat rolled down his face… his eyes were bloodshot, but dark and unreadable.

"Collins?" Mimi spoke up, her voice soft and tender… no judgment or blame… just comfort. "Angel's coming back to us… he can't go now… not after everything."

"And if he does?" Collins replied, tearfully. Turning his head to face her, she could see the tears on his face and the ones sparkling in his eyes under the light of the hospital. Pure, raw emotion – anger and pain… it wasn't a 'stabbing-through-the-heart' type of feeling for him… it was a feeling of his heart being slashed and pulverized into something so damaged that it could no longer possibly retain any life, spiritually, or any of the emotional capacities that one's heart may encounter. Collins gritted his teeth and his face scrunched up into obvious pain as the emotional wave swept through every inch of his body. Mimi, concerned, put her arms around him and gave a warm hug… despite her naivety; she could understand the pain of love more than most people. They lived in a world where they didn't have much – they didn't have anything of value… except love and friendship… except each other.

"I'm going nowhere," she whispered and kissed his cheek lovingly. That's what Collins needed at this point… love. Not accusations and blame (he was giving himself enough of that). In response, he wrapped his arms around her as well and pulled her closer in the first real display of affection and emotion from him to someone else other than Angel, in a while. With their heads resting against each other, Mimi's heart tugged with each deep sob that Collins breathed out, and she bit her lip. Collins' ragged breathing didn't escape her and his breath had turned cold and harsh as it brushed past her cheek, so that she cold almost taste the pain and get a fuller understanding of what he was going through.

"I love him, Mims," he whispered, not wanting to let her go. "He can't die… he can't leave… especially while hating me."

"He doesn't hate you!" she whispered back. "Angel adores you… he loves you. When you were together, before everything happened, when Angel and I were doing our thing, you shoulda heard him talking about you! The way he talked about you… it's not something that someone can easily let go of, you know?"

"That was before everything happened… everything's changed now," Collins replied despondently.

"Yeah," Mimi admitted and brushed her hair out of her face. "I know… it's so bad right now, but it'll get better! Angel can't not love you, Collins… I don't think it's possible!"

"He's only human, you know…"

"No," she disagreed. "He's Angel. And he loves you. Don't do this to yourself."

Their eyes met.

"Mimi," Collins whispered her name in a desperate kind of way. "I can't… if he… I won't…"

"Stop," she interrupted, not wanting to hear it. "Love's there, Collins. Love heals. It's the most powerful thing in the world, and it'll always be healed… always. Angel brought life to us and now it's our turn to bring it to him, and he wants us to, I know. Love is all you need, Collins, it is. You don't believe me? Then look in the mirror… those tears are for love, honey. Those tears are grieving for someone you can't bear to lose, even though he isn't dead… the fact that he could be, though… that's what love does to us, you know? It hurts us even when things can get better, because we know there's a chance that they may not. The pain and hurt and tears is all for love… Angel knows that. Angel taught that to us. He taught it to you. And I don't think he could forget that… not when he's lived by that his whole life…" she smiled weakly. "What you and Angel have is pure love and that can't be broken, no matter what – because it's the most valuable thing we got here. He won't let that go. He won't let you go. Angel is love… and you're crying for love…"

Mimi's words of surprising wisdom and truth dug deeper into him and it just caused him to break down and cry once more. What she said made total sense. Keeping Mimi close to him, Collins looked up and through the salty dampness that clouded his vision, he focused on his four other friends sitting there, with Roger comforting Maureen and Joanne was talking with Mark softly. Finding the strength, Collins let go of Mimi and placed his hands against the wall behind him, and slowly pushed himself upwards and struggled to get to his feet. After he managed to steady himself, his sudden and unexplained movement garnered the attention of his friends, whose heads simultaneously turned in his direction. Maureen sat up straight, and they all remained silent – Mimi stayed sitting on the ground, and all of them tensed up and wondered what he was up to now. Things weren't necessarily tense between them all and him, but they all thought he was on a fine edge (and he was), because of all the stress.

Instead of lashing out, though, Collins slowly walked over to Maureen, who stared up at him silently. He knew that she didn't hate him, but did hold him responsible for what happened to Angel over the past few months.

"I'm sorry," he simply said. "For everything. I know I fucked up and I know you blame me, and that's fine… I blame myself too; if he dies, I know it'll be my fault. I know that. And I gotta live with that because I love him so much," he choked up and Maureen could see his throat visibly constricting and swallowing the lump that was there.

"And even if he does survive, I don't know if he'll forgive me… I'm not sure I want him to. Sam was outside and I can only assume he was there to distract me or whatever… and got one of his little goons to go in there and—" Collins couldn't bring himself to say the words, for the mental image of Angel lying and struggling in the bed, helplessly, as his throat was slit, was just too strong for him. Maureen stood up.

"I know I don't deserve him, but I just want you to know, Maureen… I didn't mean for any of it to happen. I never wanted to hurt Angel. And I never wanted to hurt any of you; you're my family. All of you. I don't care if you hate me as long as you know that I love you guys. Yeah, even you Mark," he added with a tough of sardonic humour, bringing a little smile to the amateur filmmaker's face. Collins looked at Maureen again.

"Like I said… I love him. And I love you guys, my family, and I'm sorry I hurt you… I hate myself for it. And I don't know if that's gonna change a damn thing… and—" but he was cut off when Maureen swatted his arm lightly, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him into an embrace. She flung her arms around his neck.

"Shut the fuck up," she said. "I love you too; sweetie… without you, there is no 'us'. You're important to us." Maureen had learned, for now, to put her selfish streak aside and embrace her friends' needs as her own – at least for a little while, while this shit was going down.

"Couldn't have it any other way," Mimi spoke up, softly. Roger stood up and made his way over to his girl and helped her to her feet.

"We get through this together, Tom," Mark told him. "You got not choice in the matter. You're stuck with us."

"Or is it that we are stuck with him?" Roger added, playfully, drawing a small chuckle out of the professor.

"Either way," Collins replied. "Thanks guys… I need you. Angel needs us."

Maureen hugged him again and a warm feeling was generated between the group again, at a time when they really needed to reconnect for Angel's sake. What was the thing they used to say? No day but today…

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Recently I made some bad mistakes that almost cost me a lot, in terms of my creative projects, so I am debating whether or not I should quit writing entirely. I haven't lost the passion for it, but my confidence has been 'rattled' so to speak. Anyway, let me know what you think of the chapter.

Please review the chapter and let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate it.