A/N: So, as many of my readers already know, this and Not the Last are the only RENT fics I'm continuing to write (and NTL is going to have a major rewrite in the near future). This means that all other in-progress RENT fics are up for adoption. After ACTUALLY REVIEWING this story, if you want to adopt, let me know!
As for this fic, I'm mostly writing it as a character study. RENT is my school's musical next year. Be jealous.
THIMBLES! And on with the fic…
Saran VD
A Last Year on Earth
In inches, in miles,
In laughter, in strife
She had never suspected that things would turn out so perfect.
She had found love, real love, for the first time in her life. It was amazing. Amazing how one single night had changed everything so dramatically for her.
It was early October, and things were going swimmingly in her personal life. She had the most wonderful man in her life that she could ever have hoped to find, and good friends to go with it. As expected, Mimi was there, but she had new friends, people she'd never anticipated.
There was Roger, Mimi-chica's novio, a nice guy when he wasn't moping alone in the loft.
And there was Mark, Roger's roommate, someone that she would never have met without having Collins in her life. But there he was: strangely observant, a bit detached, and her second-best friend.
Maureen was something else entirely. She was wild, unpredictable, and lots of fun. Quite the opposite of her girlfriend, Joanne, who was level-headed and patient. She loved them both for very different reasons.
And, of course, she had Collins. Her Collins. Tom Collins. She had picked him up and dusted him off when he'd needed it most, and it was him that made things so wonderful for her. She had never been in a relationship like this before; she couldn't get enough of him, couldn't keep herself away from him for too long before feeling physically sick. It was fantastic.
It was a cruel joke that she would be forced to leave now that everything was so perfect.
It started two weeks before Halloween. She was a little more congested, a little more feverish, than she usually was. Naturally, this was not enough to stop her. She simply took her AZT as usual, and she and Collins took the train over to the loft. She had plans, big plans, for the upcoming holiday. All that was left was persuading everyone else that she was right. She didn't expect it to be difficult; they'd all learned that her ideas were worth listening to.
It was noon by the time they got to the loft, and they had still beaten Maureen and Joanne.
"Mimi-chica!" she cried, greeting her very-best-friend with a hug and a kiss on each cheek. They began to jabber away in Spanish as Collins greeted the rest of them. It wasn't until Collins had slipped his arms around her waist and practically dragged her away from Mimi that she said her hellos to everyone else.
Of course, none of them minded. Ever since Mimi had been spending so much time with Roger, she hadn't been able to see her friend as much as she would've liked.
"So, Angel," said Mimi once everyone was settled down in a chair or a lap. "What were you so eager to tell us?"
"Wait for Maureen and Joanne," she replied tantalizingly.
"We'll be here all night," Mark muttered under his breath.
She shot a glare in his direction, but Collins just laughed. "He knows Mo well," he said, merriment sparkling in his eyes. "She won't even be awake for another three hours."
Everyone laughed that time, until the door swung open.
"I don't see what's so funny," said a new voice, and everyone turned to the source.
"Oh, hey, Maureen," said Mark, a bit of his confidence dissipating at the sight of his ex-girlfriend.
"Seriously," she said, waltzing into the loft and collapsing onto the couch between Mark and Roger, "I want to know what I missed."
"Honeybear, I'm sure we haven't missed much." Joanne said, bringing a folding chair from where it had been against the wall. She placed it beside Collins's chair and smiled at the group.
"No, you haven't," said Mimi, a bit of bitterness in her voice. "Angel's been refusing to tell us anything until you got here."
Joanne turned to her now. "Well, Angel?"
Angel took a deep breath. "Well, Halloween is coming up…"
"Oh boy," said Mimi quietly under her breath.
Angel glared at Mimi, coughed a bit, and continued. "And we need to do something fabulous. I was thinking… I'm sure we can find some stuff. We could make costumes that were somehow meaningful to us. Maureen could be a cow…"
Maureen pouted angrily, but everyone else laughed. Roger mooed pointedly in her direction.
"… or something like that. You know. Kind of, to represent our year." Angel already had her costume planned. She had secretly been swiping things from the loft at each visit for the past month. She had acquired a pair of Maureen's sunglasses, a lipstick out of Joanne's purse (never used, by the looks of it), one of Mimi's skirts, and (gasps) Mark's scarf. Now all she needed was something from Roger. She scanned the room quickly and quietly as the other's thought aloud of what they would do. A pair of striped grey socks caught her eye. Most definitely Roger's judging by the size of them. "I'll be right back," she said, grabbing her purse and heading in the direction of the bathroom. On her way, she grabbed the socks off of the floor and put them in her purse.
Once Angel arrived in the bathroom, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her, and she threw up into the toilet. Light-headed and gagging, she flushed the toilet and rinsed out her mouth. She managed to stumble back into the room without it looking to obvious that she had been sick in the first place. She was almost certain that it was nothing to worry about, and she didn't want anyone to be concerned.
She took her seat on Collins's lap again, smiling kindly at them.
"Maureen's planning the most outrageous costume I've ever heard of in my life," Collins whispered in her ear.
"And what's that?" she whispered back, her voice coming out shakier than she'd hoped it would.
"She wants to be the moon."
"The moon?" Angel's exclamation of surprise was louder than she'd thought, and Maureen's chatter subsided at the sound of it.
"Yes," said Maureen. "And it's going to be amazing. Glow in the dark, with lights on it, and all the craters. Maybe I'll figure out a way to have a cow jumping over it…"
"Elsie?" Angel teased.
"Of course!" said Maureen gleefully.
Everyone laughed, and the conversation moved on to other topics. Angel participated, as usual, smiling and laughing with the rest. She'd never been so happy.
~!~!~!~!~!~
Of course, all good things come to an end. Within a week, Angel's nothing-to-worry-about sickness had blossomed into a full-blown stomach flu, complete with a fever that had her sweating buckets. Still wanting to keep people from worrying, she went about life as usual. It was only as she and Collins were coming home from a Life Support meeting that he noticed that something was wrong.
Angel was shivering, as though she were cold. Immediately concerned, Collins wrapped his arms around her, only to be surprised that she was so warm. Too warm, he noticed, and they got off the train near the hospital instead.
She was admitted at once, hooked up to IVs and given AZT as they pushed her stretcher down the halls to her room.
The room was lonely. It was small and bland, and empty. Empty of sound, but mostly empty of company.
It had been nearly a year since Angel had felt the cold sting of loneliness, and it ached more than she remembered.
Fortunately, it didn't last long, for soon everyone was there: Roger, Mark, Maureen, Joanne, Mimi, and Collins. They all carried something. Maureen and Joanne each held a teddy bear, Mark had a bouquet of balloons. Roger had smuggled in a box of Chips Ahoy cookies. Mimi pulled a bottle of blue nail polish out of her purse with an impish grin. Collins was the only one without any sort of material object, but Angel didn't mind in the slightest. His hand on hers was plenty.
It went on like this for several days, and Angel weakened more and more with each passing day. Finally, four days before Halloween, Angel managed to croak out, "Collins?"
He and Mimi were the only two people in the room. "Yes?" he replied automatically.
Angel placed her hand on his. It shook as she moved it. The hot and clammy skin was several shades paler than usual, almost chalky in appearance, and it looked even lighter next to Collins's dark hand. "There's a garbage bag in the back of my closet…"
"Oh no," said Mimi, "you didn't stash a body there, did you?" She was teasing, but her worry over Angel masked the light-hearted attitude of the joke.
Angel laughed a bit, which turned quickly into a cough. "There's some things in there that you all may want back." Her eyelids felt like lead, and she let them fall closed. She drifted into the dark, painless black of sleep.
She awoke one last time that morning. It was too early for visiting hours, so she was once again alone. A nurse walked in, checked her temperature and blood pressure, frowned sadly, and moved on.
Angel couldn't find the strength to remain awake. Her eyes refused to stay open; she felt lost in her own body as she tried to fight them.
However, Angel was nothing if not a fighter. She managed to battle her weakness until everyone reappeared at her bedside at 9 AM sharp. Only then did she find it safe to shut her eyes. She had Collins's hand clasped tightly in her own, and she could feel Mimi's hand stroking her hair. Even without her eyes open, she knew that everyone else was nearby.
Angel's eyes never opened again. Her room was cleared at 10:04 AM, for she had been declared dead.
Angel Dumont Schunard: April 5, 1967-October 29, 1990