A/N- The following fic is my take on the hospital scene set during Without You, through Maureen's POV. I had a whole different idea in mind, but what came out eventually is slightly different. It's a bit angsty from obvious reasons, do excuse me, I'm reading a Thomas Hardy novel so naturally enough I'm in an angsty mood. Hope you'll like it still.

Disclaimer- nothing changed. The movie might finally get here, but the characters are still not mine.

Wrong

I sit in the subway, between an old woman who almost falls asleep on my shoulder, and this teenager who's drooling all over me. Usually, I might flirt back, ignoring the fact that this boy is probably not even 19, just because he looks so good. Today, I could care less.

I glance at my watch, and know that I'm gonna get there late. They're probably all there, wondering where I am. They probably think the drama queen wants to have her proper entry. They can't be more wrong.

The truth is, that I'm afraid to go there. Angel looks worse and worse with each passing day. It's too scary, too sad watching her, slowly slipping away from us, no matter how tight we keep our grip on her. I think what scares me most of all is the fact that one day I'll go there and find her really gone. I don't think I can handle it.

For this short time, not even a year, Angel was our soul. She held us together, especially when we were falling apart. It was like she carried the six of us on her back. The saddest thing is, that now the six of us are powerless in doing the same thing for her. She is our fire, and she's burning out.

It's hard to imagine life without Angel. I'm trying so hard to avoid thinking about it, but I can't resist it. We got her for such a short time, it was like someone wanted us to learn something from her energy and cheerfulness and her never-ending love. An angel, indeed. Today for you, tomorrow for me, she used to remind us every now and again. It breaks my heart to know that there might not be tomorrow for her.

But they wouldn't know. As far as they're concerned, I'm just a cold-hearted bitch. But they're wrong.

I walk out to the street. The sun hurts my eyelids. I locate a flower shop near the hospital. I know I'm late as it is, but I can't help it. Her room is packed with flowers and balloons already, but it's the least I can do to make her smile the way she does. She loves flowers so much. The truth is, that I'm looking for an excuse to postpone the moment I'll have to go back there and face reality, her illness, her death.

I pay for the flowers, and I know I'm out of ways of escape. I have to go inside. I take a deep breath, trying to regain my drama queen attitude as I walk into the hospital.

I stop in front of her room's door and glance at the small window. They're all there, just as I expected. Joanne is sitting on one side of the bed, the closest to the door. She's still in one of her work suits. I know she skips her lunch break just to be there for Angel. Mark and Roger are sitting next to one another at the other end of the room. Mimi, sweet Mimi, is at the edge of the bed, giving Angel a manicure with her favorite metallic blue nail polish. Collins is sitting the closest to Angel, right next to her head. He smiles, but I know it's not for real. I worry about him. Through all this time since Angel got hospitalized, he hadn't left her side. I don't think he got a proper sleep ever since she got there. He says he's fine, but I know better.

I put my hand on the knob, but can't bring myself to open it. Luckily, none of them notices me standing there. My gaze locks on Angel. She is smiling at Mimi, who is talking to her, but her smile is weak. She's not defeated. Oh no, not Angel. She's a fighter all the way through. I'm afraid that in this battle, though, it's only a matter of time.

Tears are stinging in the corners of my eyes and I raise a hand to quickly wipe them away. I won't cry. I can't cry. I have to stay strong for her. But my mind is racing, and I keep telling myself over and over again that this is wrong. This is so damn wrong. Angel shouldn't be dying. She's too young to go. She's too good to go.

I pull myself together. I close my eyes, and when I open them, I'm my old self again. A new smile is plastered on my lips, but it is as fake as Collins'. Before I can think better of it, I enter the room. They all stop talking as I do. I know what Roger and Mark are thinking just by looking at them glancing at one another. The diva got her entry.

I walk over to Angel and kiss her forehead. She looks bad, worse than she did the day before, but I tell her she looks fantastic as I give her the flowers I bought for her. Although it's faint, unlike Collins' smile and mine, hers is real. I feel the tears back in my eyes. I push them back, turning to give Collins a quick kiss as well. I'm in a full drama mode now, smiling and chatting endlessly and just being silly.

I'm telling myself it might help to ease the pain, but I'm wrong.