A/N: Despite my horrible track record with keeping up on stories, this is one that has a beginning, a middle and an end that is pretty much all done. This was originally going to be a one shot, but... the time skips won't allow it. I'm posting it now just because I can. And fyi, to any who look for my CSI fics, my writing journal on LJ is technicallysane. You'll probably find more updates there than here. Yeah. Moving on-- this story marks a slightly darker, edgier version of my usual writing style. Let's see how it goes! The whole thing should be done and posted by sometime in January. Alright! We're off!

The Repetition

Part One

"Currently there's no word yet on the status of Las Vegas or the surrounding area—however, what little reports we were able to receive during the beginning of the outbreak suggest that the immune are, as of now, hiding, or perhaps attempting to find ways to break quarantine—"

"The immune. Jesus. It sounds like it should be capitalized. The Immune. Tune in to Discovery Channel to learn more."

"Hey, well, it's better than bein' the Infected, you've gotta admit that."

Archie pauses. "Okay, I'll allow it. The Immune is infinitesimally better than The Infected. But either way, it doesn't bode well for us." He closes the laptop gingerly and places it on the coffee table, stretching out his legs. Truth be told, being known as The Immune never really had its perks to begin with. But one learns to roll with what one has. Nick is flicking through a small stack of maps, since the GPS system doesn't seem to be working and, anyway, the maps are easier to plot different routes.

"Quit playing with your laptop and get over here. Help me out with this." Nick pops the cap off a Sharpie with his teeth and traces a dark line down a few streets. Archie hovers, cocks an eyebrow.

"We aren't taking the main road?"

"Nah. There were a bit of sightings, we gotta go a different way this time." Nick follows the line with his index finger, his speech garbled from the Sharpie cap.

Archie sighs and leans back, glancing towards the door. "I'm not looking forward to this, Nick."

Nick sighs a little, clips the Sharpie closed, and looks up at him. "We don't have a choice. We're running out of supplies."

"Has it really been this long?"

A quick glance at the calendar from the both of them confirms that, yes, it has been that long.

-

"Gun."

"Yes."

"Long sleeves."

"Yes."

"Laptop."

"…No."

"Good."

Nick looks around the small apartment. Really, who would've thought that they would be reduced to this? Five months ago, if someone strutted up to him and mentioned the apocalypse, he… well, frankly he would've recommended them to the nearest shrink. Archie readjusts the folds of the black shirt he's wearing and looks up at him, a confused look in his eyes.

"You okay?"

Nick smiles a bit. "Oh. Yeah. Just thinkin'. Don't worry about it."

The smile he receives is small, and maybe not quite as carefree as it might have been once. Nick clears his throat and picks up the shotgun resting next to the door. A ten-gauge. Kicks like a goddamn mule—hell, his right shoulder is still bruised from the last time he shot it—but helps with protection. Archie eyes it warily.

"Man, I hate that thing."

"Yeah, well." Nick cracks it open to check if it's loaded before snapping it closed again. "I'd rather have it and deal with your discomfort. No offense."

Archie glances at his watch, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Yeah, none taken. It's going to be three sharp in twenty-seven seconds." The small handgun strapped to his side looks wrong—Archie's more suited to desks and hard drives, not guns and fast action—as does the extra magazine and clip tucked into the pocket of his jacket. But there's nothing Nick can do about it, not really. Nick wants to sigh. Goddamn.

"Eight seconds."

"Remember, we go get supplies—"

"Five seconds."

"—and we come back. Got it?"

"Got it. Let's go." Archie looks up from his watch and raises both eyebrows as Nick clicks the locks on the door. Nick slowly pulls it open and sticks his head out, looking around. He doesn't see anything, but appearances are deceiving.

"Doesn't look like anyone's there."

Archie makes a disbelieving noise. "You know, that's what they'd said in the lab."

Nick holds back a wince. The lab wasn't something they talked about often, if ever. Almost instantly, Archie's shoulders sag a little bit, his eyes are a bit less bright. "Right. That was a dillhole thing to say. Sorry."

Nick doesn't answer, instead choosing to open the door fully and lead the way out.

"Lock the door behind you, alright?" is what he finally says as Archie pads out after him, looking around dolefully. The air is dry and stifling, and it makes his nose burn.

"Hm?"

"The door. Lock it."

"Oh." Archie turns towards the door as Nick looks up and down the street. How odd that it used to be that cars would pass by his apartment every day, and now it was barren, empty. Besides Archie, not another human in sight. Not even an animal. He looks up towards the sky—a stupid, stupid idea, but it's only for a moment—and squints in the sun. No planes. No nothing. Not one thing to suggest that anything else lives out there. Nick returns his attention fully to the roads, looking for any sign of movement.

"God… Goddamnit. Fuck." Archie sounds frustrated enough that Nick chances looking behind him, eyebrow raised.

"What?"

Archie pauses, his shoulders hunched defensively, and then sighs deeply. "I can't lock the door. The key…" He waves vaguely at the knob, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The key's too small. Yeah."

Nick understands instantly. Of course. Right. Duh.

"Oh. Do you want me to…?"

"You know what?" Archie glowers at the sidewalk. "I doubt anything will be able to open the door anyway, Nick. So no. No, I don't want you to do it for me."

"Right." This topic is like walking on hot coals sprinkled with shards of glass. "Yeah. Time?"

After a long moment, Archie pulls his left hand back out of his pocket and glances at his watch. "Three oh four. We'd better get moving." Nick nods slowly, not looking at the marred skin, the scarring. It's a topic for another time, another place. The SUV from the lab is parked dutifully in the driveway, and Nick dimly wonders how much longer the gasoline will hold out. It has a life span of a few months, if he remembers correctly. So perhaps another week or so, if they're lucky.

"How far are we driving?" Archie asks as he hauls himself up into the passenger's seat. His tone suggests that, no, he doesn't want to talk about anything other than their current task at hand, and Nick doesn't blame him.

"Well, Wal-Mart's too far, we learned that the hard way, yeah? Maybe we should try the nearest gas station. I'm not walkin' into any house, no matter how safe it seems. I want something open, with lots of windows." He gets behind the wheel and revs the engine, eyeing the gas meter wearily. It's mocking him, the needle pointing steadily at a thirty-degree angle. Fuck.

Archie taps his thighs through his coat pockets, lips pursed. "Um, well, I think there's an airy gas station on the highway. Shouldn't be too far for you, Stokes, unless you're feeling extra picky today."

Nick aims a light punch to Archie's shoulder before placing both hands on the wheel.

"Okay, smartass. I'm game. Let's go."

-

"An outbreak of a new virus that's sweeping across the state of Nevada has been traced back to the city of Las Vegas. While the exact source of the virus has not yet been pinpointed, nor the first casualty, scientists and officials say that they have quarantined the city to ensure that the virus does not spread. News10 will be keeping viewers informed with every hour on the hour updates. Above all, the President requests that there not be widespread panic—"

It's quiet in the car for a while as they head towards the gas station. Nick is particularly observant, flicking his eyes to either side every once and a while, prepared for anything. After a while, though, Archie starts to cough once or twice as they make their way through the barren, empty streets, a low, deep sound into the crook of his elbow, and Nick casts him a weary glance.

"You getting sick again?"

He gains a look as Archie lowers his arm and sniffles. "God, I hope not. That's all I need, really."

"All you need? How do you think I'd feel hauling your ass around again? I don't need that, man, I'll tell you."

Archie elbows his shoulder playfully, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

"You know what, Stokes? Screw you."

Nick laughs, a loud and cheerful sound that's in jarring contrast to the dreary mood that had encompassed the city.

"Screw you? That's the best you've got to offer? What happened to the famous Johnson repertoire of comebacks?"

A mock-scowl settles itself across Archie's features, but it looks so out of place that all it does is make Nick laugh harder as he turns into another street.

"I could just jibe at your sexuality, if you want. Sorry if I'm feeling a little uncreative today." Archie coughs again, his face buried in his sleeve. Nick eyes him for a long moment, and then turns the wheel a bit.

"I guess we'd better hurry." He squints through the windshield, glancing up and down the empty empty empty roads. So empty. So much time has passed and the sheer barrenness still startles him. He drums his fingers against the wheel for a long moment, pursing his lips, before turning to the passenger seat.

"Which way was the gas station?"

Archie shrugs, looking out his window. "It was… left, I'm pretty sure." He closes his eyes for a long moment, eyebrows furrowed, and then nods. "Yeah. It's right by the Bed, Bath and Beyond. Last time I checked, anyway. Who knows whether it's still… standing…" Archie's voice trails off and his face melts into one of pure horror as he stares at something just above Nick's right shoulder.

Nick whirls around and catches the two figures standing atop the house two doors down. He tenses and gropes for the shotgun, never taking his eyes off the figures. One of them lets out a guttural snarl and jumps down to the ground, straightening up and never moving its eyes from the truck. Archie is frozen solid, pale as death, but Nick doesn't have time to dwell or hesitate.

"Don't get out of the truck," he orders, clicking the door open. Archie doesn't respond, and Nick didn't expect him to.

Nick pulls the shotgun up against his shoulder and aims as the other figure jumps down to join its companion. Both glare at him before a second later they're taking off towards him, moving faster than he expected.

BANG.

Nick squeezes the trigger calmly, gently, and the kickback bashes the gun into his shoulder, sending jolts of pain across his chest. The first creature goes down in a bloody, gory mess and Archie makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. The other creature stops, its head tilted in confusion. It looks up at Nick as he cracks the gun open, pushes two more shells into the barrel and snaps it closed.

BANG.

The creature didn't even have time to resume its attack. Nick lowers the gun, massaging his shoulder and scowling a little. Archie settles back in the passenger seat, white as a ghost and shivering. Nick shifts his grip on the gun to the barrel and turns back to the truck.

"I hate those goddamn bastards."

-

"The President has issued a blanket quarantine across the entire state of Nevada. Riots are in the streets, Jeff, as both the Infected rampage and the Immune attempt to leave the city. As to the state of the Police Force, there is no news yet of how they are handling the situation. The country is rallying, determined to contain this strange new disease that seems to spread right through the very air itself—"

"Shit. Shit. Nick." The last part is almost a whine, and Nick looks up from the cutting board to see Archie wincing and trying to flex his fingers. He's holding his hands out in front of himself, face twisted in pain. His cheeks are flushed with embarrassment and frustration—he doesn't look at Nick. "…help, please? I… they're stiff again."

Nick doesn't sigh. The fact that Archie's even asking him for help is a sign that things may slowly be going back to normal. He puts down the knife and wipes his hands on his jeans as he walks over.

"Can you move them at all?"

"I. Yeah. A bit."

Nick sits down on the couch next to him. Archie's not looking him in the eye as he tried to curl his fingers in again.

"Can I take a look?"

"I don't know what you can do," is the answer, but Archie holds out his hands. Nick starts to gently wrap his fingers around Archie's right hand but jerks them away, yelping.

"Jesus, Arch, your hands are freezing!"

Archie blinks and looks down at his hands, as though he could see how cold they are.

"They are?"

Nick is careful this time as he takes Archie's hands in his own again, working his thumb over one of the scars. They're freezing to the touch, as though Archie had shoved his hands in the freezer and forgotten about it. Nick looks up at him, concerned. It's dangerous, but it warrants a house call from the closest thing they have to a doctor.

"Arch, I'd better call Mandy. You're sick again."

Instead of vehement protesting, which was entirely what he'd been expecting, Archie's shoulders sort of sag and he mumbles, looking off towards the floor, "Do you have to?"

"I don't think we have a choice. It looks like it's getting bad."

A little sigh follows before Archie looks at him in the eye, finally, and Nick sees now that he looks pale. Tired. Sickly. Closer inspection shows his eyes glossed over ever so slightly. Nick knows they don't have too much time, but he's got to be careful about the subject without beating around the bush.

"Mandy can make you feel better, Arch. At least until it passes again."

Archie sighs again before looking away.

"How long?"

Nick glances at their hands again, the smaller enclosed by the larger. Cold to the touch, rough and ragged, marred and destroyed. In the event they ever got out of this, Archie will never be able to work with computers again. The damage is too complete, too thorough.

It's his turn to sigh.

"I'd give it maybe the rest of the day and half of tomorrow. Should be enough time for her to get here."

Archie's smile is small and not even remotely full of anything close to contentment.

"Alright."

Nick lets go with one hand and ruffles Archie's hair, brother to brother, survivor to survivor.

"It's gonna be fine, Arch. You'll just sit around and watch Disney movies all day until even I'm singing Hakuna Matata. Everything's gonna be fine."

A soft laugh, broken and tiny, escapes from Archie's mouth as he curls in on himself a little bit.

"Yeah."

-

Mandy is leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and rested over her stomach. She looks pale and tired—it took the pair of them nearly two hours to scale the area before she could make the trip safely over, and by then Archie had gotten worse. He's currently curled over the large bucket Mandy had brought over, and he's heaving into it. The splashing sounds make Nick vaguely sick, but he's heard them before. He can handle it.

"How does it look?" he asks her quietly, and she brushes some hair out of her eyes.

"I can't say. About the same, I guess."

Another splash, followed by a moan, and Nick continues, feeling bad about it but knowing there's nothing he can do.

"Does it look worse than last time?"

Mandy nods. "It came on faster than last time. That's not a good sign, Nicky."

Nick frowns. "He's gonna be fine. I don't care how fast it comes on; he's going to be fine."

She rests a hand gently on his upper arm. Her eyes are soft and understanding. Nick vaguely remembers all the other times she risked her own life to help them out, especially whenever Archie got sick again. So many threats and dangers, and she never once backed down.

"He's going to be fine," he repeats firmly. "All of us are."

"Nick. You have to think rationally." Her voice is small, but certain. "He can't keep doing this."

"He's not going to give up," Nick whispers back. He hadn't realized how loud he had gotten. He chances a glance back at Archie, whose face is still buried in the bucket. "He won't, Mandy. I know he won't."

"A lot of them did," she responds, shrugging. It's a strange gesture—it should seem nonchalant, but it's filled with emotions not usually associated with it. Not quite giving up, but not rooting for the team either, it seems. "You see what it does to the body. This disease doesn't take pity on anyone, Nick."

"Guys," Archie croaks from the living room, and they both turn, concerned. Archie looks up at them, pale and sweat-soaked. He swallows and says hoarsely, "I think I'm all out. Stomach's done."

Mandy sends Nick a strange look before she walks back into the living room, gently tugging the bucket from Archie's hands and tilting his head up. He stares back at her as if in a daze. Nick represses a shudder at those eyes—glossy, the irises and pupils covered by a thin white film. Archie's whole body shudders and he closes his eyes for a moment before coughing into his lap. Mandy sighs and pulls her hand back, waiting for the attack to pass.

When he finally is able to take a deep breath, Mandy says quietly, "It's gonna get bad soon. You need to lay back."

Archie tries to sigh and instead bursts into another coughing fit, one that wracks his whole body violently. When he finally resurfaces, blood is dripping slowly but steadily from his nose.

"Shit," Mandy mutters, motioning to Nick to grab the paper towel roll. "This thing is moving faster than I've seen it."

"Nah," Archie mumbles—his voice seems distant. "Think I just popped a blood vessel or something."

"Bullshit. Lie back." She pushes gently against his chest until he goes with the motion, leaning against the pillows and closing his eyes. Nick hands her the towels and she presses them firmly against Archie's face.

"He's passed out," she reports in a low voice. "It's just going to get worse. I'm telling you, Nick, this can't last forever."

Nick says nothing.

to be continued