BEYOND DEATH
I decided to take a break from study and write this fiction. I obviously have no affiliation with Mr. Larson's family, his estate, and thus not RENT and don't own any of the characters. If I get positive feedback, I shall continue it.
SUMMARY: Seven years have passed since Angel's death, and now Collins is near death himself. He can feel it coming… his mortality never felt more limp or lifeless. Now he has to prepare himself… for death, and for seeing Angel again…
This story is basically one of Angel and Collins reuniting in eternity. Will things be the same? Will they be allowed to be together again?
This is a light fiction, hopefully nothing too depressing.
IMPORTANT NOTE: There will be religious depictions in here, of Jesus Christ and Saint Peter, etc… if you take offence to such depictions, I urge you not to read. Nothing offensive or disrespectful is written about them, or intended towards them, but they are in the story. I wrote them in a way that I believe that they would interact with God's children… on their level. As in, verbally and emotionally. I won't go into a religious debate about it, but I don't know. This is the warning, that's all. There is no religious mocking.
He sat on the steps outside the loft, and after removing one glove to feel the icy snow in between his fingers. It was two weeks since he quit his job at NYU, though it felt like two years… not that time mattered much to him anymore anyway. Soon it would be coming to an end and no longer would time consume his world. No longer would he be in existence, as a matter of fact. Collins closed his eyes and a smiled weakly as he felt the cold yet gentle breeze brush his skin; his lips; his eyelids… it was a nice sensation. One of the many things he knew he would miss when mortality finally claimed him, which would be soon. He knew it. They all knew it. Mark had become ever more reserved than usual. Mimi would break down sporadically when she looked at Collins' thinner, more delicate state as he was ravaged by the disease. Maureen would make jokes and try to avoid the subject all together, to distance herself. Joanne threw herself into her work. Even Benny was affected… he was being less of an asshole, at least. So maybe he did care… right? And Roger… Roger, as you would naturally assume, was in denial, and convinced himself that Collins was just going through a grief-stricken phase, given what time of the year it was. It was closing in on Halloween, which held duel meanings for the anarchist professor – one being that it had been his lover's favourite holiday of the year. And, ironically, it had also been the day of Angel's death. So there was a mixed feeling – to celebrate the deceased drag queen's life, or to mourn his death on the anniversary of seven years. Seven looooooong years it had been. Seven birthdays. Seven Easters. Seven Christmas'. Seven New Years. Seven years to reflect on the short, yet magical ten months in which Tom Collins and Angel Dumott Schunard had spent together, with more love being shared than most people experience in ten lifetimes, because they knew the time they had together on earth was short. The only thing that kept Collins connected to sanity was the knowledge that sooner, rather than later, he would be joining his lover in eternity. This, of course, was not a healthy mindset when facing death, but nonetheless it eased the pain. Don't get me wrong, he loved his friends and being with them – he lived each moment with them to the fullest, knowing full well that it would be a long time he would see them again. Especially Mark, Joanne, and Maureen, all three of whom did not face the prospects of early death. Their veins were clean and pure, not contaminated and rotting as was his, Roger's, and Mimi's. Seven years. It felt like seven eternities had come to pass, and despite the saying, time does not heal the wounds… if anything, it drags the pain out the point of absolute insanity, and now Collins was on a fine edge. Part of him was too scared, and did not want to die… he wanted to be with his friends; his family. But the idea of being with Angel again... that idea of life – eternity – after death was so powerful, it was almost enticing. Like he was willing death to hurry up and consume him. His dream-like state was interrupted, when from the depths of his lungs he felt the tension rising; the contraction of the muscles. Collins' eyes flung open and widened, and his one hand clutched at his chest while the other flew to his mouth, and another violent coughing fit overcame him. He fell back against the wall and his whole body shook very badly with each contraction of the muscles and each cough that was released, the pain was sharp but passed very quickly. Seconds later, the coughing subsided and Collins gasped for air, willing his lungs to expand and fill with the drink of life.
"Shit…" he breathed, with one hand still on his chest and his chest rose and fell very visibly. "Fuck!"
The weather was becoming more chilled as it headed towards evening. Collins was supposed to go up to the loft to be with his friends for the night; they wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. He knew it wasn't good to be out here for too much longer and pulled his same coat Angel had bought him on that first Christmas, around him tighter and dropped the dripping snow. He then slipped his glove on and grasped the step railing. He winced. His nerves were more sensitive now to the cold, and he was trembling so violently that it was getting more difficult to gather the strength; the energy to conduct even the simplest of tasks, such as standing up. Nevertheless, he made an attempt and gripped the iron bar with one hand, while with the other he pushed up off the ground. Within seconds he was in a standing position, though waited to regain some lost balance.
"Wow… got it on the first try," he muttered to himself, sarcastically. The environment around him suggested hostility was growing from Mother Nature, and it would no longer be wise for someone with AIDS to be out here, alone, as the natural conditions became even more unforgiving. Just as he moved to turn around…
"COLLINS!"
Mimi was poking her head out the window; her face showing nothing but concern for her friend whom she knew was slipping away from them. What hurt the most was that, like Angel, Collins was dying slowly… the emotional pain he knew that they all were feeling, superseded the debilitating physical limitations that the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome inflicted on its victims. He smiled and gave her a reassuring wave to let her know he was okay.
"Sweetie, I swear if you don't get your ass up here, you know Roger will haul you up here, himself!"
Collins chuckled and rubbed his hands together. Oh how he would miss Mimi's delightfully charming wit. "Yeah, yeah… I get it, mom!" he called back, teasingly. She scowled, shooting him a deadly glare – all in good nature, of course.
"Cute, Thomas, real cute!"
"You know, it actually helps if you could throw down the key!" he retorted playfully. "Or do you want me to climb up there?"
Mimi giggled and threw down the key for him. A second later, he caught it and flicked through the four or five keys on the chain to find the right one. "Get up here!"
"Okay!"
Letting out a wistful sigh, Collins dragged him up the three steps to the loft entrance – even that was a strained effort for him now. His appearance bore the stress of it all, the years of being torn apart by an invisible but ever present killer. His eyes were a little sunken; his weight had dropped significantly; his demeanor very drawn and there was very little effort that could be exerted for anything other than what was absolutely necessary.
MEANWHILE – IN THE ETERNAL LIFE
Angel hugged his pillow and watched the scene play out before his eyes… he wanted to be so happy that finally he would be with his lover once more. But the pain their friends was going through was more than enough for him to want to scream that Collins should remain on earth, that maybe his time could be extended for a little longer. It was complicated issue, one in which his fellow heavenly spirits had told him, upon arrival, was a common feeling to have. That was why all of God's children now in the eternal realm were only allowed to look in to the earthly world only a few times a year, for their own protection. Over the seven years he had been here now, separated from his family literally by eternity, Angel absorbed every opportunity he had been granted to view them. At first it was scary and painful, to see them all grieving over his death… and to not be able to give them any sign that he was okay, that everything was okay, was so hard to deal with. But he had come close. With Mimi's near-death experience in 1990, when she too was almost claimed by death… but all it was, was Angel's opportunity. Saint Peter, himself, had informed the troubled angel that he had permission to relieve himself and some of his family's pain by meeting Mimi half way. And of course, Angel jumped at the chance.
DECEMBER, 1990…
"Mimi?" Roger cried in disbelief in seeing the fingers of the love of his life move. For the past thirty seconds, they all believed Mimi Marquez had gone. Died. But now… her eyes opened! Mark, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins, all stared in silent disbelief as Roger helped Mimi sit up, and simultaneously moved – or rushed – to the table in which she had been lying on. She felt the pounding headache and closed her eyes again briefly, praying for it to subside. Of course, it didn't. She opened them again and looked around, and then at Roger.
"I was in a tunnel… heading for this warm, bright light!" she whispered, in a dazed, confused state. "And I swear…" she looked at Collins. "Angel was there!"
His heart started pounding even harder. Mimi continued.
"And… she looked good!" she reassured him, and everyone felt a little lighter, some chuckling, though all smiling at that comment. Mimi then turned back to Roger, brushing her fingers against his cheek. "And she said… turn around, girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song!"
That was the only communication Angel ever had with them after his death. He didn't know if Collins was gonna die, but from the looks of things, his gorgeous, loving professor lover was growing weaker. Tired. Just as he had done seven years ago; the exact same process. So, it wasn't difficult to understand why Angel was so conflicted right now, and no one would tell him a thing! It wasn't as if you could take a ticket, get in line, and wait for your number to be called so you could speak to The Almighty or His son. A request would be made, and it was always honored… a lot of them time he didn't even need to say a word, and he would be taken to see someone. And yes, he had been before Him. Three times. Not for any bad reasons, obviously. This was heaven, after all. Heaven was… nothing like anyone on earth could ever imagine… it wasn't crowded. There were other souls to speak with, but it was an unlimited paradise! Beautiful gardens… the softness of everything, and its purity… love radiated from everything. God's essence resided in each breath that His children took. It truly was paradise. Angel's paradise was, though, to be with Collins again. That's all he ever wanted.
Dressed in a pure white, knee-length silk gown and silk pants, Angel sat on white blanket in The Garden, and watched in what was called The Gateway Pool, as Collins entered the loft and was greeted by their friends. He and Roger embraced.
Angel smiled and ate an apple… obviously, when first presented with choice of food, and there were apples, well… you can understand his reluctance. But it didn't last long.
"Angel?"
Snapping out of his mesmerized state by the beauty of his boyfriend, whom he hadn't been able to look in on for almost two earth-bound years, Angel turned around just enough to see Saint Michael standing no more then ten feet away, wearing a glowing white full-length gown, white sandals… kinda like the pictorial depictions artists had been doing for centuries on earth. A true higher being.
"Sir…" Angel stuttered and stood up straight and brushed bits of excess apple of his gown and stood before the Higher Spirit, bowing in due respect. Michael chuckled and casually moved forward, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. "Hi, I mean…"
"Angel, child, fear not… there's no need to be so formal with me. This is your home," Michael assured with a lot of softness… it was comforting to the young spirit. "There is no need to tremble." He stood next to Angel, and placed his hand on his back. The two started walking through the garden, and Angel loved the softness of the smoothly cut grass between his toes. Leaving his own sandals with the blanket, by The Gateway Pool, Angel gave Michael his full attention, confused to why this Higher Spirit was here…
"I'm sorry," Angel smiled. "It still feels, you know… weird, sometimes. That's all."
"I understand. Fear is not what The Almighty wishes to instill into His children… a humble fear, respect, yes… but do not fear Him."
"I try not to, but sometimes… sometimes I feel like if I do something wrong, then I'll be kinda…" Angel frowned, searching for the right word. "I know it… I do! I..."
"Condemned?" Michael guessed, smiling. Angel nodded.
"That's it!"
It was Saint Michael's turn to frown, and he lowered his arm from around Angel's shoulders, and instead picked up his hand, for comfort. "I must ask why, child. Why would you fear being cast aside? This is your home. He knows your heart, and your heart belongs here…"
Angel's eyes were downcast now to the lush green grass, feeling slightly silly for fearing those who loved him forever, and his love for God knew no bounds. "I know. But it's not like I was living to His Will on earth, and I sometimes feel like I walk on eggshells… waiting for the moment when He decides I don't belong here. Like He made a mistake or something."
Saint Michael led Angel onto the path and they continued their stroll. He knew that it was Angel's time to look in on his loved ones, which was specifically why he had come at this time. Angel's heart was full of fear and uncertainty, and Saint Michael had been sent to him to ease that fear… to restore it with hope. Even Angel's body language now, his lowered eyes and timid posture… he was uncertain. "Angel, God makes no mistakes. He makes no errors. I believe this is you holding onto your past… you believe your lifestyle on earth should have condemned you to an eternity of torment? Why is that? Because you lived the life of poverty?" he stopped and thus Angel stopped with him, and turned so that they faced each other.
He placed his finger under Angel's chin and raised his head just enough so their eyes could meet. Angel was forced to look at him.
"No," he whispered with the essence of innocence. "Because I was… am… gay…"
Saint Michael kissed this troubled child's forehead and embraced him, lovingly. "Oh, Angel. Poor child. Your heart knows so much love and hope and honesty… yet its flaw is that of uncertainty. You must let this go, to embrace God's full love."
"I know. I understand, I do! I just don't get it is all…"
"Angel, you are here because your heart is love. It may not have been pure when you arrived, but all children of God know sin at some point in their earthly existence. You are no different. He forgives those who wish to be forgiven… those of whom know His love and embrace it," Saint Michael stopped momentarily to study how Angel was absorbing these kind, comfort words. He seemed to be understanding; Angel relaxed more and felt more at ease.
"Child, I sense this is the first time you've felt so troubled, am I right?"
Angel nodded.
"Am I wrong in assuming that you sense your lover's impending death. You are scared of whether he will be here… whether you will be reunited?"
Again, Angel agreed with another nod and Saint Michael reached up and brushed away a tear that had just fallen from Angel's eye.
"I cannot tell you, child, as to Thomas Collins' future. That is not my decision, nor is it my prerogative to know… only God may know this. But have faith, child. Faith."
Angel sniffed and gazed around at paradise. His paradise. "And what if that's not enough to bring him here?"
"Faith is always enough to ease the troubled heart. Remember that," Saint Michael then kissed his forehead again and gave Angel a small bow and pat on the shoulder. He then turned and walked away, down the path in the direction they had been walking in, leaving Angel standing next to the pure, clear water pool. Angel turned back and ran over to his spot on the blanket again, and dropped to his knees. He leaned over and peered into The Pool once more and bit his lip, hoping that it would reveal more and that it hadn't closed yet. Collins was sure to pass in the coming days if his illness kept progressing at this rate… now, The Pool revealed the image of Collins being helped to lay down on the sofa in the loft, it appeared that he was coughing very violently. The pain was visible even to Angel and he felt a lump rising in the back of his throat. There wasn't much time left now, between Collins and his eternal destiny…
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, so this is the start… kinda like a test. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and I hope I get positive reviews so I can work on this. I am studying hard, so I'll try update, but it all depends if you want me to continue.
Let me know please, by depositing a review. Thanks!