Author's Note: I apologise if this makes little to no sense, as it was hastily written lest I forget what I intended to write. It was also written with a severe lack of sleep. A little background on the idea: although I didn't manage to work this in to the actual drabbles, the idea for this came while I was watching the last episode of season seven. The letter on Jackie's hotel room in 'D'. And it came to me. (The "D is for death"). Anyways, if anyone wants a continuation (using other letters, throughout the series) please review and let me know and I'll try. As of right now, this is a standalone chapter, set during the end of season seven and season eight. Enjoy!

D is for Donna. She's the only thing Eric thinks of as he sits on the long flight to Africa. He thinks of her smile, her eyes, her kiss. He thinks about the strength she gives him. He remembers her red hair framing her face in soft curls as they made love for the first time. (It really was making love, he thinks, even though it has always been called "doing it" and he secretly likes her red hair better.) He doesn't even have to close his eyes to feel her skin on his; the memory is more vivid and tangible than the seat in front of him. He can hear her whisper "I love you." He receives a strange look from the man next to him when he softly returns the sentiment out loud.

He forgets she's not here.

She's always been there. He cannot begin to describe the intense feeling of loneliness eating him up. She won't be with him for the next year. He won't see her face or hold her close at night.

He chokes back the tears.

Donna is the reason he's leaving. Donna is the reason he stays despite the conditions and the hopeless helplessness he constantly feels.

But most of all, Donna is the reason he comes home.

D is for disaster. Jackie could hardly believe her eyes. Some bleach blonde trash had married her boyfriend. All because she didn't trust him enough to believe he loved her, the handful of times he said it. All because she'd run off and sought comfort in her idiotic ex, who had incredibly horrible timing.

Her entire relationship with Steven was a disaster, she realises. They loved each other, she had no doubts now, even if she's been so quickly replaced. But in the end, their insecurities and differences tore them apart.

She hates disasters. But she chooses to not let it get her down. Going to the bar didn't help, but she didn't think it would. What she needed now was...

Steven's arms around her.

She laughs derisively to herself.

This would make her stronger. She'd make sure of that.

D is for delusion. Kelso thinks about Jackie as he drives to Chicago. He once believed she loved him so much she would never leave him, no matter how many girls he cheated on her with or how many times he screwed up. But he realises now that she may still love him but not the way she once did. She might have not tried to get back together with Hyde then. She might have accepted his marriage proposal.

But he sees the truth as he drives down the highway in the afternoon sun with only the radio for company. He does not love her. He has not loved her for a long time, if he ever truly did. His proposal had been a last attempt to hold on to the past. They were growing up and moving on and he didn't like it at all. He had to let go of that delusion.

One wish he has is that he'd understood that before he tried to do it with Jackie in a Chicago hotel room. His ex-girlfriend was miserable and his best friend—well, Kelso wasn't certain, but he somehow doubted Hyde was happy, and he knew he had a part to play.

But his biggest wish of all? That they could rewind time and all of them can be happy again.

D is for disjointed. It's been two months since the Chicago incident and a month since Sam had shown up. He feels off balance, like a table with a wobbly leg. Something feels as though he'd been broken apart and glued back together with a couple of pieces missing.

Of course, that's how he'd felt a majority of his life, so he never thought much of it. Until tonight. Alone in his bed, waiting for his wife—dear Lord, the word had never made him so sick before—wondering and regretting. He begins to think it is worse now and knows without question that a certain delectable brunette is the cause.

Forcing back the tears (when was the last time he cried? he always longs to cry now) he suddenly becomes acutely aware of the powerful hold Jackie had over him. He berates himself for letting her go then forces himself to accept his choice.

It doesn't change anything. It doesn't turn back time so he could change his actions. All it really does it make it unbearable.

Because he always thought of himself as a wise man, but now, with Kelso gone, he's the village idiot...town dumbass, if he listened to Red.

But listening to Red is finding about the bitter truth, and he's afraid of what he might find when that happens. So he laughs mockingly at himself as he wishes and downs another beer.

D is for depression. Donna is cold inside and inconsolable. She had thought Eric loved her no matter what, through thick and thin, with all her faults.

Deep down, she still believes that. But the break up letter—a letter, that's all she got from the inconsiderate bastard—was imprinted in her brain. She remembered it word for word, remembered every curve of every letter. It haunted her dreams, it tortured her days. She couldn't believe her Eric was leaving her.

She thinks about as she tosses and turns, wanting and not wanting to sleep. He broke up with her again. Does she really need him more than he needed her? The thought of breaking up never crossed her mind at any point in their relationship. He always left her. Like now.

Her temper flares. He gave her a promise ring! He wanted her to see him in her future. He proposed! He...

He walked out.

The tears are her only solace as they fall. They, however slightly, relieve the tension in her heart and body. She hopes that she was not completely disillusioned.

She prays that one day she will understand why growing up hurts so damn much.

D is for desperation. Fez silently fumes at Randy and Samantha. They do not belong here. They won't ever. This is a place for six friends who have nothing and everything in common. Outsiders must earn a place.

These two were just accepted in without question.

He understands that they are trying futilely to fill a gap. But it does nothing. Randy and Donna cannot replace Donna and Eric. The stripper and the burnout cannot replace the cheerleader and the burnout. Sam's density cannot replace Kelso's silliness.

Fez desperately wants everyone to resemble happy again and believes that it will one day happen. He holds onto that hope foolishly, he knows, but he's learned one thing in the past years.

A fool's hope is better than no hope.

D is for death. Something died in them all the day they began to part ways. Hope, faith, the promise of tomorrow.

But, still, there is something buried in their very cores that will someday bring them together. It's a love that cannot be shattered entirely or ever erased. A love that leads them back their heart's true home where they can overcome the hurdles of life. It's their destiny.

After all, home is where the heart is.