Angel, Collins, and Joanne had followed Maureen outside. She had stormed a ways down the sidewalk, her curly head in her hands, but only until the fit began. It was obvious that her tantrum hadn't subsided; her face was red, and she swung her arms wildly.
Joanne was the first to reach her, but Collins was the first to speak.
"Mo?" he called, voice unsure.
Maureen was shaking Joanne off, proclaiming that she was fine now. "I'm better now, really. I just needed to get it off of my chest." She drew deep breaths and exhaled them with a puff.
"Do you need to go home?" Joanne's concern for her obviously hadn't dwindled because of Maureen's insistences.
"Actually, I'd like to stay and enjoy my meal. Screw Mark--I don't need him or his input," Maureen declared, proudly.
Joanne patted her shoulder affectionately. "That's right."
Collins beamed at her. "'Atta girl. Come on, our food's getting cold."
Maureen laughed, making some sort of comment about Collins and his stomach. He teased her right back, something about how soon hers would be bigger than his. Joanne, in the middle, just grinned.
That's when Angel fainted. She'd been leaning against the brick, trying to regain her bearings, when suddenly it all became too much for her, and she sank toward the pavement. She was barely aware of her surroundings, but she was more than certain that Collins had yelled her name.
0--0
His hands were bigger than hers, and a few blisters were present from the constant writing that his job required. They smelled of chalk and sweet grass on a sunny day. They were dark brown with a few light scars, and a faded palm; the lifelines were present and stretching, and his nails were bitten short, a bad habit that she'd been trying to wean him out of. They were gentle; not like a doctor, whose hands have the power to heal, but gentle in the way that he used them to pass around knowledge, and the way that they made her more aware of herself than ever before.
Angel loved his hands.
She knew his touch before anyone's, and now she felt his grip tight on her shoulders. She was woozy, and not even sure if she was truly awake, but she knew those hands. They soothed her, and told her things in a single touch that would be too painful to say aloud.
Don't die.
It was as simple as that. Don't die. Stay with me, say something, open your eyes, give me a sign, hold on a little longer. Don't die.
Her body was weak, and her hands were shaking violently, but she managed to lay one against his chest. Even though she couldn't see him, her hands had memorized every muscle of his body long ago. She pressed it against him, quite weakly, but it had the same effect.
I'll try.
0--0
Mimi had come out to check on them (or maybe to get away from Roger, but who really knows) and was quite shocked to find Angel sprawled across the pavement with Collins kneeling over her. Maureen's fist was pressed into her mouth, and Joanne squeezed her shoulders, almost to retain her balance.
Mimi shrieked Angel's name loud enough for Mark and Roger to hear and come running. Collins had already heaved her into his arms and was telling them that he'd take her to the hospital and that they should stay here. He was worried that if Angel was able to see them all rushing to the hospital then she'd panic, which would worsen her condition. Joanne called him a taxi, because it would be faster than the subway, and handed the driver the fare. Collins gently sat Angel in the backseat and stuffed himself in beside her. Mimi, the best friend, hopped into the other side. Collins told the driver to hurry, and so soon they were nothing but the squeal of tires.
Joanne went back inside to pay for the meal, leaving Maureen, Roger, and Mark outside. No one spoke, but Maureen was trying to hide little cries. Everything in their perfectly spun world was falling apart, and all of the shards were lost to the ever-changing wind.
0--0
"Allison, I'm home!" He spotted her car, and there was no use pretending that he'd been there the whole time.
"Benjamin! Where have you been? When I left you were sick in bed!" Allison came out of the kitchen, brandishing a spatula. Benny cringed.
"I went out to the drugstore, but they didn't have what I needed. I am feeling a little better though."
Allison looked suspicious for a minute, but seemed happy enough with his explanation, and didn't press.
"Well, I made you lasagna. I hope you like, because it took me quite a few tries to cook."
This time Benny cringed inwardly. Allison's cooking was...about as good as Roger's social skills. Having spent years sharing an apartment with the rocker, and therefore knowing all of his social faux pas, made the comparison meant something.
"I'm sure that it just kept getting better. Give me a big plate full, baby!"
Of course, he wasn't going to let her know any of that. Their relationship survived on its little secrets. She didn't tell just how much money she'd spent on that new dress, and he didn't tell her just how much money he hadn't been able to get from his tenants. She kept her feelings about his lack of hair to herself, and he kept his feelings about the Latina stripper from Avenue B to himself.
The only problem now was that he had one big secret to hide, and nothing she did could ever balance it out.
0FIN0
What about the POVs you ask?
Bah. Jesse leaving Law & Order has me a bad, tearful mood.
But, in better news, I'm seeing RENT on FRIDAY! THAT'S TWO FLIPPIN DAYS!!
Hysteria over.
You should all thank Ginger Glinda, because without her this would make no sense and look like crap. Maureen holding her head in her hands while she's shaking her arms? What was I thinking...?