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Angel wanted to rip the IV needle frohts overhead bled together and became the sun

Panic pressed down on hied heartbeat speedup

“Whoa, Mr Jones,” Dr Arche said in his ear, “calm down, fella, calm down Go with the flow”

Angel’s eyes fluttered shut He forced theain, tried to focus on the hot, hot sun

Soily

And then she was there, peering over hiel? Can you hear me?”

“Mad…” He sighed with relief, wanting—aching—to feel her hand in his; it wasn’t enough to know she was touching him, he wanted to feel it One last time He wanted to rip that daain There was soit all away from him “Loved … you…”

She stroked his cheek, and it felt good, so good, he felt tears sting his eyes He fought his way through the layers of fog that separated them

She gave him a smile—he could see it above the mask, the way it crinkled her eyes He remembered that smile, had always remembered it Christ, so beautiful…

“Francis,” he wheezed “Sorry … tell him … loved him… too”

Suddenly he saw Francis standing beside her, s that it was okay, that it had always been okay…

But Angel kneasn’t real

Tears glazed Madelaine’s eyes, and he wanted to say, Don’t cry for me, but he couldn’t speak

His eyelids fluttered again He heard Dr Arche’s lilting voice, talking, talking, talking …

Then he was out