A/N hello my dear Killjoys! Here is that chapter I promised you! Ooo and what's that? I answered another one of my cliffhangers? R&R!

The Killjoys immediately searched the apartment, and it didn't take them long to figure out where she was; the only locked door was the bedroom in which she had been in before. They could have easily shot the doorknob, but instead they decided to leave her alone to mourn.

In truth they were all worried about her, but none so much as Poison because he had seen just how deeply she had been wounded. But they all figured it was normal, the wanting to be alone. They had been through loss themselves: when BL/ind took over, they had lost one of their own to them. His name had been Bob, but they had taken away his individuality and his personality, so that he was no longer the person he had been. They all knew what it was like to lose someone. They knew it only too well.

They knew she was sneaking out of her room while they were sleeping. They knew because their food supply had a small dent in it, which had seemed to come out of nowhere. If it hadn't been for Ghoul pointing it out, they never would have noticed. It was funny; Poison had tried to stay awake and catch her, talk to her, but he would always end up falling asleep. And as soon as his eyes closed and his mind began to settle, he would hear soft and nearly inaudible footsteps.

If was only after 5 weeks that they began to really get concerned. She never left her room with the exception of getting food, and had cut contact with them all together. She was like a phantom; her presence was latent. And no one could find a way to stop her. They reserved shooting the door handles for emergencies, and they had no clear reason to believe the girl was in any danger.

Poison made a routine of sitting by her door for at least an hour a day, trying to hear her within her room. He always heard the same thing though: heart-wrenching sobs and ceaseless sniffles. He and the rest of the Killjoys had tried to coax her into talking or leaving her room multiple times at this point, but it never worked. She never even did so much as speak a single protest. She just lived a quiet existence in what had become her bedroom. Poison had tried everything he could think of, even slipping notes under her door and asking for a reply. He never actually got any. He knew by that fifth week they had reason enough to worry. The others were concerned as well, and had knocked on her door many times, asking if she could let them in. She never gave an answer nor unlocked the door.

And during one of the nights of the fifth week, Poison decided enough was enough. He drank more cups of coffee than he had ever had in his life (not that he minded -he loved the stuff) and lay on the couch, and waited while pretending to be asleep. After what felt like hours of waiting, he heard the sound he had so been pining to hear.

Footsteps.

He waited for the right moment before speaking.

"You know, meals with us aren't so bad either," he said humorously.

She froze in her spot mid-step and stared at him. She stood there and stared at him mutely like a dear in headlights, before collapsing, sobs claiming her once more. Poison wondered if this would ever come to an end. He took her in his arms and she weakly protested, but he wouldn't let her go. He waited a few minutes for her to calm down before speaking.

"Now, would you care to tell me why you have been acting so anti-social?"

She blinked back tears and mumbled something in a broken voice. He shook his head.

"Sorry, but I didn't get any of that. Could you say it again?"

She sighed.

"I said," she mumbled slightly indignant, "that I didn't know you were supposed to be social when your best friend dies," she said bitterly.

"Five weeks is a long time, kid," he murmured.

"Oh is that how long it's been? I stopped keeping count a while ago," she snapped, her voice sad. A tear rolled down her cheek and Poison shook his head as she roughly wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"It sucks, losing someone. Believe me. I know. We all do. We lost one of our friends when...well when Better Living started to take over. We needed time to ourselves so we could mourn, but we never hid it from each other, and it certainly never lasted 5 weeks. Talking to each other about it eventually helped us move on," he explained.

"But you didn't know her! None of you did! You couldn't understand!" she cried, indignation shining in her eyes, and her lips trembling.

"That's very true, but I know what it feels like to go through the pain," he said simply.

"You wouldn't understand..." she frowned, another tear welling up in her eye.

"Why don't you try me?" he asked. A tiny smile curved her lips.

"That phrase is a bit cliché, don't you think?" she asked. He smiled and laughed.

"I suppose it is. But you understand what I mean. Tell me what's on your mind, kid."

She frowned and tearfully explained the regret She felt at taking her sister for granted and never having to have told her how important she has been to her. How she missed her and hated knowing she would never see her again, never just be able to talk to her again about the random subjects they had discussed frequently. She explained how she missed the little details of her sister's wacky outfits, the way she did her bright make up and taught her how to throw strong punches and fire a gun. How together they had once taken down over a dozen Dracs. The way she had always cheered her up when she missed her parents, who had perished long before.

And near the end of it all, Poison thought it a good idea to turn on a light. And for the first time, he really noticed the girl's eyes.

They were large brown doe eyes, and extraordinarily, they were speckled with different shades of violet and purple. They were hypnotic. Poison couldn't help but find himself staring at each of the three dimensional specks of purple, surrounded by a dark caramel brown. It was only when she cleared her throat and blushed that he realized his big mistake.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help but stare at them...they're just...mind me saying so...beautiful," he stumbled meaning the words but mindful of Beatrix's written advice. She shook her head and mumbled a bashful reply.

"It's alright. Happens." she restlessly ran her fingers through her shoulder length wavy brunette hair. He chuckled, slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry if it's...weird, I don't mean to stare. They're just so...different. I've never seen eyes quite like yours, kid," he smiled sheepishly. She did the same, but managed a swift reply.

"You can call me Sarah. Or...I guess if you like...by my code name...Crash Baby," she offered shyly.

"I like them both. 'Crash Baby'...," he smirked 'how appropriate' he thought silently, "it'll work well around here. Why don't you take a shower and let me run your clothes through the wash. How were you able to wear dirty clothes and not take showers for so long?" he asked, genuinely curious. She smirked.

"I didn't. The showers, I mean. Sometimes I would take one while you were sleeping, but only if I was positive you wouldn't wake up. Which was rare enough. The clothes? Please, me and my sister... We lived on the go, and when you've got no time to stop and no where to go, clothes are the last thing you're worried about. I've been through worse."

Poison whistled and she bowed dramatically.

"I'm impressed," he admitted as Sarah walked over to the end of the room. He paused before speaking once more.

"Hey Crash Baby," he smiled as she turned around at the threshold of the bathroom, "welcome to the fabulous Killjoy family," he said warmly. An ear to ear smile spread across her face, and tears filled her eyes. Only this time they weren't of sadness. They were of joy.

A/N Well you guys, what do you think? I was kind to you and answered a cliffhanger and decided not to end with one. I think I deserve some reviews. I mean, that's the only way you'll ever get me to post more anyway *evil grin*.