"Honey, you really need to sleep. I mean, I can stay here all night if you want. It's no problem, I swear." Collins looked up at Mimi, who was bending over worriedly, one hand on his arm. Her eyes had bags beneath them, and bluish marks had begun to form very faintly in the folds of her skin, which had multiplied in the last few days. She looked terrible. There was no way she could stay up another night.

"Hell no, Meems," he said, using a nickname that was reserved for quiet moments like this. "You know that I'm fine. And you're the one that needs to rest, girl. She'd want you to." Mimi looked like she wanted to protest, but Collins gave her a look. She smiled wearily and kissed his cheek.

"She's lucky to have you, Collins." With that farewell, Mimi turned and quietly left the hospital room, moving like she was already half asleep. Collins watched her go and then watched the door as it closed, swinging shut with an ominous creaking sound. It made Collins shiver, and as though sensing his unrest, the small, pale form on the hospital bed beside him stirred slightly, mumbling illegible words under her breath. He squeezed her hand and waited for her to settle back down. God, she was so…he didn't know what to call the transformation that Angel had undergone. All he knew was that her friendly, strong voice had begun hoarse and painful to use. That her hands, so slim and elegant and firm, had wasted away to thin, tired, pale autumn leaves. That her beautiful, loving face was heartbreaking, its skin drawn tightly back against the bones and the stunning natural contours and shadows that had been dazzling when she smiled faded away to nothing. And most of all, he knew that her sparkle, her joie de vivre, her special aura of love and emotion, was gone. It had been drained away from her like the blood that the doctors kept drawing. The blood that held her death warrant.

Collins ran one worn brown finger over her forehead. It felt waxy and cool, like that of a corpse. Shivering, he drew his hand away. Angel wasn't dead, not yet. She was clinging to life, clinging to Mimi and him and all the others. Collins thanked whoever the hell was up there everyday for letting her win the battle each day, for letting her stay tethered to them for the last twenty-four hours. But sometimes he wished that she could let go, that the horrific pains that wracked her body and made her retch would disappear even at the cost of her life. He loved her too much to see her in pain like this. He loved her too much to bear her suffering.

Collins moved his eyes away from Angel's pale face and cast them around the room, trying to find something to take his focus away from her. His eyes landed on a small green, square object, lying at the foot of Angel's bed. Slowly, he reached down with his free hand and picked it up, bringing it close to him for scrutiny.

It wasn't her diary; he knew what that looked like. And it didn't seem to be a regular book either. On the cover was a strange drawing of intertwining vines, all different colors and textures. They seemed to form some pattern, looping and twisting on the green Pleather cover. Collins squinted and tried to decipher them. M…i…mi…an…d…Ange…l's…scrapb…ook.

Wow, Their scrapbook. Collins glanced at Angel, who was sleeping peacefully. He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed the tips of her fingers. Then he slowly lowered her hand and put it down, letting it rest on the white hospital blanket. Eagerly turning to the book, he flipped open the cover and looked at the first photo. It was an old one, with faded, grainy colors and slightly hazy lines. Mimi and Angel stood together at a train station, their arms wrapped around each other's waists. Mimi was throwing her head back and laughing wildly, her curly brown hair sticking about a foot into the air. Angel smiled broadly, her shiny black wig looking as beautiful on her as it always did. Though she looked energetic and open, something about Angel still conveyed mystery: there was a look in her eyes that seemed like a dam, a barrier that held back her true self. Collins had broken down the barrier only a few times. And what he had seen behind it had solidified their relationship beyond compare.

Both Mimi and Angel looked younger in this picture. It was probably from only a little while after they first met. It only showed that Angel and Mimi had truly been fast friends, and long-lasting ones too. Collins touched the photo gently. Then he turned the page.