A/N: 40 reviews! Mucho love! MUCHO! So, I decided that I was gonna be nice and start writing the next chapter…I'm pretty sure this one's also gonna be a downer. Sorry.

But, hey, for those of you who didn't WANT Party to die, but you DID want Party to die, here's a little ficlet for you! This one was a present for me from my girlfriend (legit, yal. LEGIT.) In this, you'll see what would have happened if Party would have died (more of, the effect it had on the group.) Go to my profile and click on the link! I promise, you won't be disappointed!

As RuPaul has one told me… "You must lip-synch…for your LIFE." In this case, it's READ THE DAMN FIC. XD

SUGGESTED SONG FOR THIS CHAPTER: FIX YOU BY COLDPLAY. Even if you don't like them, please give it a try. It was heavily influenced by this song.

Enough of my flibbly-flabber. On with the story!

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Look Alive, Sunshine

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You learn something about yourself as you amble around the desert, drunk and hysteric…not something useful or meaningful, or hell, even remotely relative to most situations. You learn it while almost breaking both ankles in the warming dawn sand, while your humming the last song you can remember Dr. D putting on and you sound like a dying vulture, while you nearly sweat all the unnatural coloring out of your hair because Party's mascot head doesn't have insulation…

"Some peeeopllee say that there's a wwooommmaaannn to blllaaammmmeeee…butiknowit's my owwnn dammnn faulltt…"

You learn that you really loved pickles when they were still around for enjoying…

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The desert, contrary to popular belief, is pretty much a bleak and mind numbingly colorless place. Of course, I was deserving of wandering through such a hell-like place…I had been a force of nature, only created to destroy the lives of those who don't deserve it. I went through those motions with myself all day long, even when the bottle was empty and I still wasn't sober enough to remember what my own face looked like. There weren't any Dracs or lively claps to brighten my depression, only sand that went on for miles. Contrary to popular belief, the desert sucks.

I had known for a few days now what had happened to me. I tried to deny it when I saw it, when I studied it in the mirror for hours…but the liquor could only cool the pain that it was causing me. I still knew it was there, haunting me. Taunting me. It was breaking me down, eating me alive inside. I guess that's part of the reason I ran away, really…I wouldn't want to be the burden anymore than I had already been.

As I took a pit stop for a little puking up of my own blood, a grin curled onto my face with undoubted melancholy…what would they tell Angel and Grace? What would they say when they found my body laying on the asphalt, my insides decorating the whole area in their serene red color? When vultures would swarm the left-overs of what used to be me? Maybe they would let Angel know the truth…she deserved to know the truth. But Grace…?

I puked again, but this time, it wasn't because of the sickness I had.

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Crying. Crying until you're heaving for air. Your whole body is lacking air. You wish you knew the exact reason why; wish you could pinpoint the breaking point. But you sit in the sand, a bottle in one hand and a oversized blue mascot head in the other, and you bawl like a three-year-old. You wish you weren't this loud, this obnoxious, this childish, but you're so hurt and so raw and so scared and so you just try to let it out. The air around you is cooler than that of your own tears and your throat begins to close up. This is the only way to feel remotely better. This is the only way…

You want to tell him. Tell him everything. How the best thing about your morning is seeing a mop of red head waltzing around the diner. How the smell of his leather jacket is the most comforting thing you've ever known. How it means the world to you when you're sitting in the passenger seat of the Trans Am for the first time and he grabs your hand in the midst of the noisy car. How after only a week of knowing he existed, you were sure…so very sure what you felt wasn't just something simple. How every time he's saved your life has been another time you've fallen. You sound so sappy and sad and hurt but it's the only thing that's keeping you sane.

When you saved me for the first time, and I jumped to my feet to hold you…and you squeezed me back.

When we spent our first moments alone together, and all you could do was cough and fidget with your hair.

When the Trans Am ran out of gas, we waited for Show Pony by getting so drunk that we started ballroom dancing.

When you fell asleep with Grace in your lap and your head on my shoulder.

When I learned about your night terrors…and how I felt so useless when I knew I couldn't help.

When you had only known me for 96 hours and were already kissing me outside of the diner.

"Oh, Party…you've ruined me."

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"Damn it, I'm not going to sit around when she's out there, roaming around like this! You can either stay or go, but I'm definitely not staying here," With his good arm, Party Poison threw the driver door open forcefully, fumbling with the keys in his pockets. The best way to wake up was not to have Kobra Kid frantically searching your room for the missing brunette that you know and love. Love…

"You don't even have your gun with you! Are you stupid?" The blonde tugged desperately on the handle of the door, rapping his knuckles on the window. Angrily, Party rolled down the thick window of glass that separated the two.

"I don't care. Actually, I could care less than what I do now. If it was you, or Fun, or Jet, I would do the same fucking thing. I'm going to find her." The impulsive look in the golden-green eyes that belonged to Party Poison made Kobra's stomach nearly flip. He was inconsolable…

"You're not going alone. Just…" Kobra Kid sighed inwardly and ran his fingers through his hair, "…just let me go get Jet. Or Fun. Either one. We're going to go and get her back," He threw a sideways, encouraging grin to the older Killjoy, sprinting back towards the diner at full speed, calling out names that were only blurbs of sound to Party. He wasn't going to let anyone see how terrified he was, or how unbelievably fast his heart was pounding. Not even when…if he found her.

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And as quickly as night had become day, the cycle had begun all over again. The stars began to poke their heads into the dark veil of night, the desert moon quietly slipping upwards into the sky. I laid flat on my back for the whole transition, afraid that if I stood, the pain would come rolling back in. The burn was so deep, I could have sworn I could feel it in my marrow…and with my luck, all of my liquor was gone. No more drunkenness to keep my head swimming away from what was real. I wasn't completely sober, mind you, but enough to be hyper aware of everything around me. The blue head of dehydration was at arm's length away, always in my reach. I wouldn't think it fair to lose it, seeing as how I had stolen it from Party. The least I could do was keep it in good shape…

Dumbly, I felt compelled to stand. As a punishment for wishful thinking, an everlasting streak of pain had me ready to crumble. I cried out, the stabbing in my stomach unstoppable. Ithurtithurtithurt. It burned like a gasoline fire. God, who had that much gasoline to pour down my stomach…? That's just a huge waste of a nonrenewable resource…I could have sworn that someone was purposefully lighting my stomach on fire. Maybe, if I opened my mouth and breathed out hard enough, I could be like a dragon and the fire would go. away. I tried as hard as I could, but I just wasn't that lucky. The fire continued to burn on forever in my gut, making my insides into charcoal. I clutched my abdomen, screaming into the night air.

"I wanna go back…I wanna go back to the diner…this hurts, I miss you Party…I want Jet Star to make it better! I want Fun Ghoul to make me laugh and for Angelface to tell me to suck it up, but not in a mean way, and for Kobra Kid to act like he's my dad and hold my hand because I'm in pain and he knows and he wants to make it better, and for Party Poison to hold me because it HURTS SO MUCH! GOD, WHY!" Even as I wished this, I knew that was the worst thing I could do was go back. I wasn't going to ruin their lives even more. But I had to say it all aloud…therapeutic, I guess.

"I love you so much, Party…I know it's dumb and stupid and moronic because I've only known you for a month, and we live in a fucked-up world, and it could never work, but I love you so much…" My head swelled up with my own words for a moment, and I laughed at how stupid I sounded. I laughed until I cried-well, it wasn't really cry since I had no tears left to cry-more like, dry heaving and hitting myself.

So…even though I wasn't sober, and I was in as much pain as a pregnant woman who was giving birth and being stabbed multiple times simultaneously, I started walking. I didn't walk forwards, towards Battery City, or backwards, towards the diner and Zone 6, but I walked sideways. I walked deeper into whatever Zone I was in, and made sure that every time I saw a blackbird go past, I would hold my breath…for good luck.

It was all I had.

And after about 5 minutes of walking (stumbling), I remembered…

I never picked up Party's mascot head.

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And the tears come streaming down your face,

When you lose something you can't replace,

When you love someone, but it goes two ways…

Could it be worse?

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The car had never been that tense. Ever. Party had nearly sweat off any weight he had left, while Kobra and Fun kept their eyes peeled for any signs of life. Party ran through all the possible scenarios in his head, ones where Babygirl had been caught and viciously murdered by Better Living goons, ones where Babygirl had passed out from exhaustion and had her skin picked off by hungry vultures, ones where another group of renegade Killjoys had picked her up and she had found a better, stronger, more-attractive-

"God, oh God, oh, GOD, oh my GOD. Where are you…?"

"Oh, lord, he's finally losing it…" Fun Ghoul looked up at the rearview mirror, assessing the frantic look on Party Poison's face. The red-head had a white knuckle grip on the wheel, eyes as big as porcelain plates, skin as pale as…okay, seriously, this kid was going out of his head. You get the picture.

"It's okay. Shhh, hey, Party, chill out, it's o.k. She's out here, somewhere…she's gotta be-" But Kobra Kid was promptly interrupted.

"No. No. She's dead. I can feel it. She's fucking dead and it's all my fault. I could have stopped her last night…I mean, I knew she was hurt or something, but I didn't know she was gonna run away…" Kobra watched as the man in the driver's seat slowly began to have a mental breakdown. He was lost for words…I mean, what could he have said to make anything feel better? It was possible that Babygirl had been dead for hours, now…but he wasn't even going to think about that.

"Holy shit, stop the car! Now, damn it! It's you head!" The group couldn't lie; that was one of the weirdest things they had ever heard the other one say. Immediately, Party slammed down on the worn-out breaks, the car swirling.

"It's your head and a bottle! And footprints! Hot damn, they have to be recent, the way the wind blows out here! Woo, baby, she's alive!" Fun Ghoul jumped out of the seat and onto the asphalt, Kobra and Party trailing behind obediently. The fluctuation in Party's heart had reached an all time high, and there was no stopping his adrenaline high…

She was alive.

And he was gonna find her.

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"I've got, birds in my deers and a double on my shoulder and a foam to the other and I can't get a mold of her and what's a crush to dooooo? What a crush to doooo when he can't get through? Oh…wait…shit, those aren't right. It's…umm…bird in my ears and a double…ahh, never mind…" At one point, I had come to grips with the fact that:

A) This had been a horrid idea. Absolutely, perfect horrid.

B) I couldn't sing to save my life. Haha. That fits so well with the next one…

C) I was going to die in the desert, alone and desperate. And that was that.

If I hadn't come to that revelation, I would have gone insane. Positively mad as a hatter. I followed the light of the moon, going nowhere and fast. I had finally gained enough water from the earlier drinking to let tears fall. I was dying slowly but surely, and I wasn't the least bit sad about it. I mean, not me dying. Not my own downfall. No, sir, that was the least of the depression.

God, what would Grace think? She would think I was a failure. I had given up on life and she would hate me for it.

Who would Jet Star talk to late at night, out on the roof?

How would Angelface ever let out her frustrations about Fun Ghoul if I was dead?

Who would Kobra Kid play Dad to now…? Well, okay, he still had Grace and Angel, but…never mind. You get the picture.

Last of all…who would Party have to always be saving or hold their hand in the Trans Am…? I guess he could do that with Fun Ghoul…maybe.

Giving up never seemed easier than it did at that very second.

And I did.

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Death was not very virulent. I guess I just assumed it would be.

"Babygirl! Babygirl! BABY! OVER HERE!" Well, hello to you too, Death. You're more friendly than I had imagined…I also thought you would be voiced by Patrick Warburton. But, whatever…

"Oh my God…Babygirl, oh my God…don't ever, ever do that to me again…please…" And suddenly, I'm warm. I'm warm all over. Someone has me in their arms, someone is holding me close to them. They're wearing a leather jacket…and lord, does it smell heavenly. (No pun…oh, fine, it was intended). I've never felt this…special. Loved. This warm. I can feel heavy breath on my hair, a whole crowd around me. I can feel the rapid beating of someone's heart. God, I feel so alive.

"Babygirl…" Maybe, for a second, I thought that was God's voice. But then again, God couldn't possibly have the same beautiful voice as my own Party Poison.

I tilted my head backward, reaching my hand up towards his stubbly face and smiled.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. What's shakin'?"

Lights will guide you home…

And ignite your bones…

And I will try…

Someone loosened my grip on my stomach. Someone lifted up the hem of my shirt. Someone gasped loudly, nearly sucking all of the air out of the atmosphere. Party stopped looking at me with those gorgeous eyes…and they suddenly seemed dead when they saw my dirty little secret. I bit my lip as hard as I could…

"Party…" Jet Star spoke quietly, "…it's a tumor. She has cancer."

…to fix you.