A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own Rent, yadda yadda yadda. You know that already.

For anyone who doesn't catch on quickly, this is told from Angel's point of view and Collins's. Angel's is the one in italics. I recommend having "Without You" or "I'll Cover You (Reprise)" in the background while reading this one. And please review when you're done. Thank you.

It's hard to tell exactly what is going on. I am dimly aware of the people I love scattered around me in my room. Their sad faces tug on my heartstrings and I want to say something funny to make them laugh. But my throat hurts too much to speak. I try to smile instead.

"Hey, girlfriend," Mimi says. She is sitting on the bed with me and her voice is completely cheerless. "Whatchya smilin' about, huh?" She takes a plastic cup from Roger's hands and brings it to my lips. "Sorry it's only water. They wouldn't let me bring any booze in."

Cool liquid soothes my throat and I manage to say ever so quietly, "Could you and Rog do something for me, darling?"

She touches my cheek. "Of course, Angel."

I am amazed by the amount of effort it takes for me to lift my arm up and touch her cold hand. How did I get so weak? "Work things out, okay? I want you to be together. That's…my last wish."

Tears form under her eyelashes and one falls down each of her cheeks like perfect pearls. "Don't talk like that," she says, avoiding my eyes. "All this talk of dying wishes…you're going to get out of here soon. You're going to get better. You'll see."

"That's sweet," my throat is hurting again and I struggle to continue talking, "But no matter what happens, I want you to be together in the end. Will you promise me? Please?"

Mimi doesn't look at Roger. She doesn't look at me. She simply nods. "Excuse me," she murmurs. I can tell that she is crying. She runs out the door and I blow her a kiss.

"I wish she wasn't so sad…Roger, be a dear and go talk to my girl. You love her." He is silent. "You love her."

"Yeah," is all he says. He fixes me with a long, depressing stare. He must be seeing himself in my position in about five year's time. Maybe a little longer. Maybe less. Or perhaps he is seeing my darling girl, Mimi. She will be in this place soon if she doesn't start taking care of herself, and he knows it. It's killing him inside. I nod toward the door and he nods back at me, trying to look blissful and happy. He was never a very good actor. He exits stage left out my hospital room door and I pray silently that he is going after my girl. They love each other so much. I just know they will work things out in the end. They have to.

Collins—my dear Tom—comes back in with lots and lots of coffee. He dishes it out to Mark, Joanne, Maureen, and himself, leaving two on the bed table for our missing lovers. Everyone else leaves the room so we can have a moment alone. I want to tell Collins how important he is to me, how much he has meant to me, how truly happy he has made me during the last year of my life. And most of all, I want to tell my Collins that I love him. I open my mouth to speak, but he places two fingers upon my lips, silencing me.

"Save your breath, gal," I say. "Angel, you really need to get some sleep. Please…go to sleep."

She defies me with her engaging smile. "No way, José" she whispers. "I don't want to sleep through time that could be spent looking at your face." Her voice is so fragile…it breaks my heart. I try to remain tough for her sake. It takes every ounce of strength in my body.

"Ange.." my throat suddenly gets very tight and it takes great effort to speak. "Angel," I begin. I wipe beads of sweat off her forehead with my sleeve. "Angel." I think I'm going to cry. "Angel, just close your eyes, okay? You…don't have to go to sleep if you don't want to. Just please close your eyes."

She nods. "Just as long as you stay here and hold my hand."

"Of course."

"I…want you to be here with me when I go."

I bend down and kiss her dry, cracked lips. She closes her eyes and I can hold it in no longer. Tears fall down my face, but at least she can't see me. I can't ever let her see me cry. Then she will be sad. Her last moments must not be filled with grief.

"I love you, Thomas," she tells me.

I bite my lip to hold in my cries that under any other circumstances would be screams of anguish. By the time I have calmed myself down and say, "I love you, too," she is asleep and I have bitten my lip so hard that it is bleeding. She can not hear me, she can not see me. So at last, I begin to cry

Hours pass and I guess I fall asleep or something. I'm not sure how long I'm out, but when I awaken, I am shocked to see Angel's eyes open. She is sitting up in bed, still holding my hand, and jabbering away with Mimi and Maureen about their Halloween costumes. Her favorite holiday is only a week away, and seeing her talking happily like that, I truly believe that she will be alive to see Halloween. She's getting better. I know it. I just know it.

"I think maybe I'll be a boy for Halloween," Angel tells them, making them laugh. "Mimi, you'll be a cat, right?"

"Well, duh, girl! What about you, Maureen?"

"Um, a marionette in a patriarchal society!" She chirps. Mimi smiles at her.

"Oh, sweet anarchy," sighs Angel. She feels me stir and looks up at me. "Aww, you're up, baby! Feeling refreshed?"

I nod, confused. I look around the room. Everyone's eyes are hopeful. They all are thinking that Angel just might pull through. I want to get down on my knees and cry and thank God for sparing the person that I love.

Then she begins to cough.

It's nothing at first. A tickle in her throat.

Then it gets worse.

She can't breathe.

It takes minute for her to catch her breath. By then the coughing fit has left her so tired, she can't move.

How could you, God? How could you?

I don't have much time left and I know it. I can feel my body deteriorating. I take many short breathes and I can't talk. I can barely keep my eyes open. My Mimi tries to get me to take my medicine and cools my burning lips with drops of water. She paints my nails with my favorite kind of polish—the turquoise that she bought me for Christmas last year.

I try to live in thoughts of that wonderful Christmas instead of obsessing over my coming death. I know it will all be over soon. I can't decide whether or not that's a good thing. I want my pain to be over. I want my friends to go home and get some rest, which they will not do as long as I am breathing. I want Collins to stop worrying. But I also want to live. I want to wake up every morning in Tom's arms. I want to be there when Joanne and Maureen reconcile. I want to watch all the award winning films I know Mark is going to create. I want to see Benny become a member of our family again. I want to watch the children that Mimi and Roger will make grow up, and I want to be their Auntie Angel. I want…I want so much, I am breathless.

I notice a nurse come in and shoe everyone but Collins out of the room so she can check my pulse. Then I notice nothing at all.

I open my eyes and see his beautiful face. Then I see nothing at all.

I feel Collins sitting on the bed with me and holding me. Then I feel nothing at all.

I hear him saying, "I love you, Angel." Then I hear nothing at all.

I say, "I love…you…" Then I say nothing at all.

Everything goes blank.

"I love you, Angel," I tell her, and I mean it with all my heart. My eyes are clouded with tears and my throat aches with stifled sobs. My heart is gone and has been replaced with a hard knot which I know will never loosen.

She is breathing funny. She gasps for air between the words. "I love…you…" she manages to say. She closes his eyes and her head nods forward.

I stare for a minute. "Angel?" I whisper.

No answer.

"Angel?"

Still no answer.

"Angel." I hold her close like I will never let go, rocking back and forth as I weep and weep like I have never wept before. "Angel," I keep crying, "Angel." The beeping from the pacemaker has stopped and morphed into one long, incessant tone. The nurse holds two fingers against her throat, but I don't even hear her when she calls out her time of death and writes it on her chart. She probably says she is sorry, but I don't hear that, either. I don't hear her going out the door and breaking the news to our family, and I don't hear them bursting into tears and crying out because this amazing person is gone. What I do hear is me, sobbing and saying, "Angel."

She doesn't wake up.

A/N: And there you have it. I got very emotional while writing this one and started to cry a little. So please review and tell me what you think. This is my first emotional Rentfic.