THIS IS YOUR ANGST WARNING. Apparently this makes people have rain showers on their face.

I love you! Whoever you are!

~Ree/Angel/Fex

Earlier that day, Specs had checked the meters, just to make sure. She had nodded at Commander Up and Lieutenant Taz, telling them that yes, there is breathable oxygen down here.

Later that day, one of them had stopped breathing it.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. He had a vanilla-white-rice-blander-than-bland voice and an appearance to match. Up desperately wanted to slam the clipboard he was holding up one of his nostrils and leave it there to rot. But this man was the only source of the information he craved, so his nostrils would have to remain intact. "There's nothing we can do, sir."

Once the information was out in the air, there was no point in holding back anymore. Up didn't think he would have been able to anyway. In a matter of seconds, the tweedy man had been slung across a nearby chair and his spine bent at an angle that shouldn't be present anywhere in the human body.

In another matter of seconds, the commander had been pulled off said tweedy man and thrown bodily into a wall by two muscular security guards. Up could have taken both of them on one foot with an arm cut off and Taz's headband over his eyes.

Taz…

Instead he slumped against the wall where he had landed, feeling ashamed. I shouldn't be doing this. Taz wouldn't.

Oh, deadgoddamnit, of course she would.

The doctor straightened up. "I know that this is a hard time for you, Commander," he said, and Up could tell that the sudden outburst of violence had startled him. It was as if he was trying very hard not to show his breathing was labored.

"Hard time." Up felt the strangest desire to laugh. And the not-so-strange desire to punch the noses off of the faces of everyone in the room. "Understatement of the year, much?"

The doctor blinked for longer than was necessary, communicating that his patience was being stretched thin. "Your anger is irrational, Commander. I am merely telling you what I know."

And before Up could stop himself, his yells were echoing in the plain halls, such boring, narrow halls painted a distasteful shade of olive. He remembered vaguely that if the walls had been white, you were supposed to be able to see reflections of the dead.

"MY ANGER IS IRRATIONAL, MY ASS. TAZ IS DYING, FOR GOD'S SAKE, AND YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING TO HELP? WHY CAN'T YOU CURE HER? THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE BEST HOSPITAL AROUND. I CAME HERE SO YOU WOULD FIX HER. WHY AREN'T YOU FIXING HER?"

The security guards actually clapped their hands over their ears at the force of the screams emanating from the livid commander, but the doctor just stood still. He had been in business too long to react much more than a simple "I'm sorry for your loss" and a shot of hard liquor.

"Sir," he said, when Up finally fell silent and staggered a step, a man drawn and torn. He laid a hand on the stooped figure's shoulder.

Up did not pull away.

"Sir, I apologize that there is nothing I can do for her. The sickness is too advanced; all I could do is diagnose it. I'm surprised she didn't show symptoms before now."

It's because she's the toughest sonovabitch in the Rangers, and there's nothing you can say to make that untrue.

Up muttered something the doctor couldn't hear.

"Would you like to see her? She's been asking for you."

When he finally lifted his head, Up's wise, sky-blue eyes were full of pain.

Not to mention the tears.

He nodded once, jerkily, swallowed, and began to cry.

Just as quickly as it had started, it stopped, because Up didn't want Taz to see him cry. The doctor handed him a tissue out of the pocket of his lab coat. It was one of those ones that they buy in bulk; one-ply and practically made of sandpaper. Up barely noticed the stinging under his eyes, nor could he see that the skin had turned red.

"I'll take you to her." The doctor's white-rice attitude, Up thought, was good.

It meant that he wouldn't have to hear two people's pain.

XXX

"Up…" Taz coughed, springing out of bed when the doctor gestured him into a bright, cheery room. The occupant and the visitor, however, were far from bright and cheery.

Almost immediately, the doctor descended upon the tiny Taz and forced her back onto her pillows. She tried to fight, but just as quickly found her strength sapped.

"Up, what's wrong with me?" For the first time, her voice sounded quiet; quiet, sad, and scared.

As the doctor explained, Up held Taz in his arms. The hospital bed was uncomfortable.

Taz did not cry.

In fact, she did not say a word until the doctor quirked one side of his mouth and left, not bothering to hook Taz up to any machines. She would die soon anyway, as was the way of the sickness she had contracted on the last alien planet they had gone to.

There was no cure.

She would have about twenty minutes before her breathing failed.

"I do not want to die," she said when they were alone, her voice soft, nearly breaking on the last word.

Up hugged her.

They sat in silence while the birds sang outside the window; they should not sing, Up thought, they should be mourning the impending death of the woman who mattered the most to him in the world…

…and the full implications of a life without Taz hit him…

…and he had to bite down on his fist without her seeing to keep from crying out.

"I don't want you to die," he confessed, and Taz tightened her arms around his neck.

I should say something, he thought. I should tell her everything I should have told her years ago. That's how it goes in the movies, right? I should kiss her. Tell her you love her, Up. Tell her everything.

He opened his mouth.

Then he closed it again.

He wouldn't be the one to cause her more pain.

"I'm tired, Up," Taz muttered, and she slumped against him. She fit easily onto his chest, curling there like she belonged. Maybe, Up reflected, she did.

"Don't sleep yet, baby," he found himself muttering, stroking her hair. Her bandana must have fallen somewhere on the battlefield, because her hair was tumbling down around her shoulders, making her look so much smaller and so incredibly weak.

"Do you need anything?" he asked her. She shook her head.

"I'm kinda hungry," she murmured, but Up didn't go to get her anything. He remembered a story his mother used to tell him, a story about a girl in a hospital asking for green tea over rice.

She had died before she got a chance to eat it.

Up wouldn't let that happen.

"I'll stay with you," he promised.

She smiled and shrugged. "Am I really sick? I feel okay."

Up had a second of incredible optimism (maybe she'd been misdiagnosed, maybe she was actually fine and this whole thing was a terrible, terrible joke).

Then it was gone.

How many people had Up watched meet their death? How many Rangers had he himself led to the grave?

But this wasn't like that, of course. He hadn't been in love with any of those Rangers. None of them had the history with him that Taz did. None of them understood him completely, the good and bad of him, and no one else would be willing to punch him when they thought he was being obnoxious.

"It's gonna be okay," Up mumbled into the tired Taz's hair, which was such an inadequate statement it would have sent Megagirl's circuit board into overdrive as she tried to correct it.

"It's been a ride, Up," Taz said sometime later with difficulty. Up nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and let one tear fall. Just one. Unfortunately it fell on Taz's bare arm.

"Hey," she whispered. "Mirame."

Up looked at her, and he saw in her eyes a world of acceptance and wisdom far beyond Taz's years.

And they still sparkled.

But if Taz had anything else to say, she didn't have time.

If she had any secrets, she took them to the grave.