Shorter chapter. Blah blah blah. Filling up space. Undeserved word count. Weeeeeee.

Oh, wait! I do have something important to say! I didn't named the kid "Grace." I didn't want to use her real name, or anyone's for that matter. So, none of the Killjoys are named after the band members either. That's it.

Disclaimer: Hi. Don't know. More words. Yay!

With a huff, Kobra smashed his shoulder into the wooden door frame. The old wood cracked under the pressure and he stepped inside. The old Gas Station shop was dark, dank and musty. Light broke through boarded up windows and little flecks of dust danced in their rays.

He rubbed his shoulder and the grinned, inviting himself into the desolation. He couldn't help his widening smile at the first thing that caught his eye: Old nudie magazines, across the way. They were slightly blocked off by racks of old stale chips, turned to old stale dust and long since flat liters of soda.

Kobra removed his comb from his back pocket and combed back his hair as though he was trying to keep it in peak shape for the women he'd find on the pages. He moved fluidly across the store and stopped in front of the magazine rack against the wall. He lifted one slowly with his index fingers and thumbs and cleared away the dust and cobwebs that had grown over time.

Kobra hissed in a breath, staring down at the brunet bombshell on the front cover. A sultry smile, bright eyes, and a nice rack. That was his kind of woman. Yes, Ms. November 2010 would do him just fine.

Hopefully Curly wouldn't throw the damn thing out the window this time…

Strolling back into the light outside, he rolled up the magazine and sat it in his spot in the car.

Ghoul leaned over the front of the car with a screwdriver, fooling with a machine that Kobra was unfamiliar with. Poison was finishing up at the gas pump and Jet was standing a few feet away from the car, watching Curly. She'd gone over to a mailbox. Once blue, like all standard American post boxes, it was now pink and yellow and blue and gold and so many other beautiful colors. It was nice to look at, but it's purpose was enough to make a grown man weep if he had the right reasons.

"She mailing it?" Kobra asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yup," Jet answered anyways. They both went quiet. There was nothing more to say.

Curly sighed. It was becoming ever so much more difficult for her to give up her letters to her mother. She stared down at the mailbox, decorated by other zone runners. Across the front it said Love. And arching below it like a rainbow were the words Forgiven. All other zone runners passed by where they had been eventually. It was a never ending cycle. One she still strived to be a part of. When they got info from Dr. D, they followed his instructions.

But, before she could continue to worry about that, she had to get past this. Every letter sent was like another piece of her mother being ripped away from her. She needed to do it, though. She knew she did, even at such a young age. She had it figured out.

The rest had done it. They'd all gotten past their ghosts and went on their way to being Killjoys. She had to do it too…

Ever kiss, every hug, every smile was forever going to haunt her… But she had to.

Curly opened the slot and dropped in her letter. At that same moment, her happy sun fell from the sky and shattered on the ground into a million dulling, yellow pieces. She didn't realize that she was on her knees until she heard the clink of the whistles around her neck.

She tried to hold back the anguished sobs, but her body wouldn't allow it. The sound tore from her throat and broke into the emptiness that surround it her. She felt like she was alone for such a very long time, kneeled there in the dirt. But she knew that wasn't true. There was no way Jet hadn't been here within seconds.

When the big arms wrapped around her little shoulders, she knew he was right there without her ever asking.

"I can't do this…" she whispered. Such an adult phrase, from a child of nine. "I can't do this…"

A muted shhh and a hand through her hair. Jet spoke. "It's not easy to say goodbye, I know. But you don't have to do it alone. You've got us. You've got me."

Tears clouded her vision, she couldn't even see the hands in front of her face. She felt aimlessly for Jet, spinning around to hug him tightly. She wrapped her skinny arms around him and squeezed as tightly as she could. "I- just- miss- her- so- much," she sniffled, sentence lost in the sobs.

"Yeah," Jet whispered. He never stopped comforting her. He never stopped caressing her hair.

Ghoul took a drag.

Poison sat on the hood of the car.

Kobra leaned against the side, peaking over his magazine every now and then. He wasn't really reading it at the moment. No one was doing anything they pretended to be doing.

"It happens," Poison said, breaking the silence. "People die. Then babies are born and it starts all over again."

Ghoul looked at him, the webs of smoke circling his face and head. "But not like that…" he said.

"Not like what?" Kobra asked. "How's one death any different from another?"

"It's a vicious cycle…" Poison mumbled.

"Her body was ripped apart by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W exterminators!" Ghoul said, harshly. "I think that's a little different than dying of natural causes."

"What's the point..?" Poison continued, being ignored entirely.

"Everyone dies, Ghoul! Doesn't matter how it happens. When you're dead, you're dead!" Kobra had put his magazine back in the car, ready to argue.

"So, what you're telling me is that you'd rather be pulled apart by vampires than die in your sleep!"

"Life…" Poison whispered.

"What the fuck does it matter!" Kobra yelled. "I'll be dead!"

"… is but a dream for the dead."

"I'd never choose that over a quiet death!" Ghoul exclaimed.

"You'll be dead!" Kobra countered.

"And down we go…" Poison stood, walking in a small circle. "And down we go…"

"Fuck you, Kobra!" Ghoul spat.

"Go to hell, Ghoul!"

"Mama, we all go to hell…" Poison opened the driver side door and sat inside, without another word.

"Right after you, Sir-Wanks-Alot!"

"Grow up!"

"Grow a pair!"

"Fangool, Ghoul!"

Party Poison snapped. They were used to this. But not quite like he snapped this time. "Both of you, shut the fuck up and get in this God Damn car right now or I swear to God I'll take a gun to both of your mother fucking heads!"

The other two went silent. Neither of them moved, but they didn't speak again. Poison didn't play with death like that. Not when he was that angry... Poison raised the gun at his side and pointed it towards Ghoul. "In. The Car," he said.

Ghoul blinked and then did what he was told, like a younger sibling submissive to her older brother.

The gun pointed Kobra's way next. "Car." Kobra didn't move.

"Don't test me, Kobra. It doesn't matter how you die. You'll be dead. Even by a laser to the head."

Kobra scowled and followed directions.

"Now shut your mouths. We're gonna give those two as long as they need and we're gonna sit here quietly while we do it. As much as I hate playing den mother to you ladies, you're just gonna have to do what the fuck I say."

No one said a thing after that. Not even when Jet and Curly returned and sat in the back seat. All was silent, and that's exactly how Poison wanted it.

He hated it. This one time, he hated the stretching silence that left him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to think of something, anything else besides Curly. He choked his own tears back. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry…

Jet glanced to his side. Ghoul was taking a shaking hand to his lips, covering a lighter from the harsh winds. Curly was looking at the floor, holding her toy robot, lazily. She was visibly tired of crying, rolling her eyes at herself as she wiped her tears away every now and then. She couldn't seem to stop it though… As far as Jet knew.

He sighed and closed his eyes. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep the tears from flowing freely, but he wouldn't let that happen. If he cried, who'd be there for Curly to cry on?