Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the song. I am not affiliated in any way, shape or form with anyone who does.

The grass Quinn had settled onto was long and dry and extremely uncomfortable, but he failed to notice this. He wasn't noticing anything around him, the screaming and the shouting all seemed to be happening on a different world, as though he was separate from everyone else.

The sirens flashed in front of him. They belonged to the fire truck that was still battling the remains of the blaze that had engulfed the small house and to the ambulance, which was manned by paramedics loading a body, covered by a sheet away from the gathering crowd.

Rembrandt's body.

Quinn felt himself shiver. Rembrandt had chosen to stay in the house while they had gone off to investigate the world they had slid into. He'd been tired, said that he was going to have a lie down and would meet up with them later. But now later was never going to come. Quinn had strolled down the street, carrying a couple of grocery bags when he saw the bright orange flames licking up into the sky. He had known instantly then what he knew now. It was entirely his fault.

Wade sat down next to him, a false smile stuck onto her face as she looked at Quinn. "You can't blame yourself."

When Quinn spoke back his voice was quiet, tired. "Yes I can Wade, it's all my fault."

"Quinn, it was an accident. Fires happen all the time, you weren't anywhere near the house. It was just bad luck." She reached out a hand to touch him on his arm and he yanked it away, turning his body away from her.

"It's all my fault. I'm the one who brought him sliding in the first place."

She sighed heavily and laid her hand back down next to her. "Professor?"

Quinn hadn't noticed that Arturo had been standing near them. He glanced up at him, blinking and then looked away again.

Arturo didn't sit down, choosing to stand to the other side of him, towering. His voice was plastered with fake joviality, "now now my boy. We've been through a lot here today but you can't blame yourself for it. It was a minor miscalculation that brought Mr. Rembrandt on our little adventure. You've saved him many a time before this…"

"A minor miscalculation that cost a man his life Professor."

"Yes. Well, err." Arturo choked on his sentence. He wanted to cheer Quinn up but he couldn't lie about the truth. If Quinn had never invented sliding, then Rembrandt would probably still be alive. Wade however, was not so keen to give up.

"Quinn, will you just let us help…"

"Don't Wade. You're not a murderer so don't tell me that you could ever understand."

Silence fell among the three of them and Quinn closed his eyes, feeling himself falling into despair. He didn't want them to help him feel better, he didn't want to feel better. All he wanted to do was to sit in silence and think about what he had done. To let the pain and the guilt consume him forever.