17. Chapter 17: Repeat

(Quentin's POV)

Work had suddenly got completely slammed with reports and other initiatives that somehow left the entire police force away from the station but also with record-breaking levels of work to do. Despite only the administration staff and a couple of officers, for security it was a lot of consolidation of interview notes that had to be compiled into different categories. The arsons couldn't come to a close sooner and he had a feeling that with all this work, they couldn't be far off. But with all the suspicious character reports of people that just owned a backpack or were wearing black, the public wasn't any help. The fear was contagious and he could attest to that himself about how on edge he was, but people who had no relation to the police suspecting they were next were stretching the sympathy thin.

Any time he had off work Quentin spent shopping, doctoring or lecturing and feeling like he was working a part-time job alongside the police. Helping Connor with the burns and to live a semi-regular life was incredibly involved with all the scheduling changes he had to make to accommodate. If it wasn't for Connor and his appreciative and apologetic nature, then he'd probably have got angry. Then there was Carlene, which he could instead direct his frustration towards, given just her attitude and the amount of money he had to direct towards food. Turns out the larger animals ate more than himself go figure, so it turns out, feeding a polar bear is no small feat. Then there was the unending stubbornness which was striking a nerve at every given opportunity or just every time he was home. It was like she was secretly deaf because after the same conversation day after day, almost to the point of reading it off a script, nothing changed. He could paint it in blood on the ceiling or threaten the city with a nuke and it still probably wouldn't change anything. The city wide PSA? What were her thoughts on it? Fuck it, apparently.

- Earlier -

Quentin had just came in from work and got changed just so he could update the shopping list so he could go out again after work. The list always seemed to be longer every time as well. Burn gel and cereal for one. No convenient one-stop-shop for that, not in walking distance.

'Again! How hard can it be?'

The window was once again wide open in plain sight.

"Carlene?" Quentin said, pocketing the list and dropping his backpack in anticipation of a long and fruitless conversation. "I have something important to ask you." People had given lectures and famous speeches about insanity, but when he had a perfect example, he was living it and yet it still didn't click. When there was no response, he walked over into the spare room where, as he entered, he saw those windows open as well.

'God damn it.'

"Yes?" Carlene asked flatly, taking out a pair of earphones while she lounged out on the air mattress while Connor slept quietly. At least he had his own source of warmth, since nothing was changing soon, it seemed. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah. There is something wrong in this room. Please take an educated guess. For a hint, it's the same answer as the last oh seven times." Quentin said, staring at the window until a long enough pause prompted him to gesture exasperatedly at the window.

"Isn't the cool breeze nice?" Carlene said, expression unchanging. In that moment, Quentin could almost feel his face twitch like a cartoon character while gaping like a fish.

'There are no words.'

"That isn't the point. The point is there is an arsonist that targets open windows and homes of the police. There are several open windows and members of the police here. The cold is nice now, but at this rate it won't stay cold for long." Quentin said, stepping over her to pull the window closed.

"Alright." Carlene said, lounging back down on the mattress.

"There is nothing alright about this. There was a PSA for the police. I want to not have my home burnt down. Connor doesn't want to fight for his life against the cold. I would also love to sleep at night without the anxiety that you've opened a window." Quentin reeled off having to cut her off before she tried to make some other inane statement. "Keep them closed."

- Now -

In the benefits, though, he had made it to the shop in record time, being spurred on by frustration. Some people. His ringing phone snapped Quentin out of his bitter thoughts with it cutting off his music with its whimsical tone.

"Hello?" Quentin stopped at a nearby bench just in case it was going to be a long call.

"Quentin? Hello, I have a question for you." The voice over the phone said energetically.

"Theodore? Wha- nevermind what's the question? You know I can't and won't divulge any case details." Quentin said, haven got texts and calls periodically fishing for details.

"Well, I was hoping for more of an interview, you know, with someone who knows how this has affected officers in the city. A people piece. It might get some sympathy and support." Theodore rattled through quickly and excitedly, clearly very passionate about the idea. "If you're home, we could do it now. It'll be great."

"Look Theodore, it sounds like a good idea, but there is still a lot under wraps that I don't want to give anything away accidentally. The arsonist could see it, and that could only make it worse." Quentin said, trying to let him down gently.

"But I'm right outside." Theodore whined. "Come on, this could be a real hit piece."

"I'm not even in." Quentin said, gathering up his stuff to get on with his day, since this call wasn't going anywhere soon. "I'm sorry, but maybe after this is all wrapped up, and I can say more."

"Fine." Theodore said glumly, hanging up before Quentin could say anything.

'Strange guy. Still.'

After another twenty minutes of walking, another phone call rang through his earphones to deafen him. Bothered by the second attack on his hearing, he yanked his phone out, assuming it was Theodore still fishing for a story only to see Judy's caller ID. He could have sworn that Nick said they'd be busy all day.

Quentin picked up, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on the floor while he packed away another carrier bag. "Hey, Judy. You're on speaker, so be careful what you say. How's the investi-"

"Are you home?" Judy quickly cut off in an authoritative tone.

"Uh no. Just Connor and Carlene? I'm on my way home, though. Why wha-" Quentin said, getting cut off again while he finished packing his backpack and turned off speaker phone and switched over to his earphones again.

"You need to call them and get them out of the building." Judy commanded while also having a muffled conversation with Nick in the background at just as fast a pace.

It felt like a rock had just settled in his stomach and he could feel his heart kicking into overdrive. "Why?" Dread was washing over him. He knew why.

"There isn't time for this. You need to jus-" Judy started again, impatiently .

"Tell me why." Quentin said flatly, moving with a greater haste in a hesitant half-jog.

"Your home was the next target we found. You need t-" Judy started only to get cut off herself, with Quentin hanging up the call to guide his shaking hands to call the pair back home. Carlene. Nothing. Connor? Why wouldn't anyone pick up? Quentin's half jog shuffling turned into a panicked sprint, causing concern from onlookers as his backpack swung violently on his back while clutching his phone with a death grip.

'Not again. No. You can't.' He was going to lose it all. He only wished that he couldn't see it coming from so far away, like the first time. Being aware of your impending doom was a far worse feeling.

Even with adrenaline coursing through every part of his body, it was still an agonising five minutes spying the ever-growing plumes of smoke and eventually budding fire. He was breathing hard with his tongue lolling out like a panting dog, only to halt. He was just down the road and he could see it with his own eyes. Fire bellowing out of the shattered and melting window frame. The violent orange brewed larger and larger with the glow filling the air and melting the surrounding snow, with embers flickering through the air like ill-intentioned fireflies. The smoke had got deeper in its colour, no longer the pale white. There was no crowd, just a single figure standing there. Alone. Sirens wailed off in the distance, the noise only getting duller as he became fixated on watching all he'd worked so hard on being reduced to ash. Whether a mix of tiredness or despair, he felt himself collapse onto his knees.

As sirens breached his bubble of focus, he pulled himself back up and started staggering closer to his flat. The slamming of doors made him freeze. Looking over to his left, he saw a lion and a wolf with firearms in hand shouting incomprehensibly at the still figure standing near the fire. The figure turned around, shouting manically back to the officers wielding a weapon of his own. The fire only grew in magnitude behind him like a macabre backdrop.

The voices only grew louder. "I didn't want this to happen. I didn't, I didn't, I didn't. No, no, no. Don't you get it? I didn't have a choice." The ram said, pacing up and down, getting more irate and panicked as the seconds ticked on.

"Just put the weapon down and we can talk about this." The wolf called out. Familiar.

"Don't you get it? There is no way out. Argh, turn off those sirens. I can't think over all this noise." The ram had resorted to pounding the side of his head with his fists.

"You need to calm down, man. No one else needs to get hurt." The lion called out over the bonnet of the car.

"Calm down? Calm Down! You want me to calm down?" The ram let out an unhinged laugh that only fell away to giggling before turning to anger. "How can I calm down? Look at everything that's happened. I didn't want this."

The wolf advanced from around the car with the Lion following suit, still trying to de-escalate. "Just put down the weapon and we can fix this."

"There's no fixing this. There's no way out. Or…" the ram said, getting sadder before immediately losing all emotion from his face, looking more like an automaton than a person.

The world regained clarity when several loud cracks filled the air, along with many distant screams and a single one right in front of him. The ram had finally resorted to pulling out his own weapon, a large black polymer rifle fitted with a mismatch of additions. It looked very military. Quentin's head snapped over to the yelping figure that was in front of him, where he locked eyes with them now pulled round behind the cruiser. Leo? Leo!

For a moment, he froze until the sound of gunshots continued with the snapping of rounds on metal and brickwork. The only safe cover was the Cruiser, which was under fire. He had to hope the car would be better protection thanks to it being a police issue because the four-door sedan he was standing behind now wouldn't stop a bullet. Quentin, in a split second decision, ran along the row of cars, adrenaline giving him his second wind. To run towards the car under assault. Clever. Quentin tripped right near the cruiser, scraping up his knees, filling them with blood and grit along his torn jeans. Upon making it to 'safety', he felt worse with the snapping above him and the tires causing the car to drop lower as they burst.

'Why'd I run here? Stupid, stupid.'

Diverting his focus from the downward spiral that was his situation, he focused on his injured friend. "Leo, are you okay?" Leo gave a bewildered look while still groaning and whimpering slightly while grasping his leg, a geyser of blood seeping out through his fingers. "Ah nevermind don't answer that. Alright noise is good, keep being loud. Tell me it hurts like a motherfucker and we'll be good." Both of them were having their once white fur drenched in crimson and matted down.

He really wished he'd payed greater attention in biology lessons because he didn't know if it was an artery or not. It could be since there was a lot of blood, but don't gunshots do that, anyway? Being a doctor here must be so much harder. Focus. Leo now sitting in a small growing pool of blood from his leg as he hissed and writhed. His partner, the Lion, was multitasking as best he could, being on the radio shouting for an ambulance, backup and the fire department. Trying to take down the suspect, not get taken down and watch over his partner bleeding out.

Quentin couldn't sit here and do nothing. He had to do something, but he was no doctor. Right! Quentin pulled out his phone, smearing the screen with blood while moving through to hit Kellans contact to call him.

"Hello? Quentin, what's all this noise in the background?" Kellan asked, concerned.

"Okay, I need you to listen and to guide me. You were a doctor, and they shot Leo. He's not doing great, and I need to do something in the meantime." Quentin babbled over the phone, hands still shaking. He didn't want to watch a friend bleed out on the street, so he dumped out his bag, dropping vegetables, meat, and the pharmacy bag he was looking for.

Kellan hesitated several times, eventually regaining his composure. "What do you have and where is the injury located?"

"Uh, bandages, gauze, burn cream and painkillers." Quentin said, tearing open the paper bag. "The shot seems to have gone through the middle of his thigh and I think it's gone through. Stay with me." Quentin followed up with giving Leo a pat on the shoulder, getting a strained nod from Leo.

"That sounds like an artery. You need to work quickly and make sure it stays compressed. Cover up each side of the wound with gauze, then wrap as tightly as you can with the bandages until you've run out." Kellan seemed to have lost his usual squeamish edge and was instead being straightforward and calm.

"Yeah, I've done it. Now what?" Quentin asked, feeling like he was succumbing into the panic with the bandages and gauze budding red once again despite joint pressure from him and Leo.

"Give him a couple of painkillers. Two only is the standard for over counter medication. No more. Then find the first aid kit's standard issue in these vehicles." Kellan said, waiting patiently over the phone.

Quentin popped out a couple of paracetamol from the wrapper painting them red, which Leo feverishly gulped down. "Leo, where's the first aid kit?"

"The boot, but it's locked, so leave it. Can I get a few more of those pills? They aren't doing shit." Leo said through gritted teeth.

Quentin shook his head and poked his head up towards the windows, where they shattered and showered him in the glass. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he opened the passenger side door, feeling like his mind was about to shut down on him. Taking one last glance at the quieting Leo, he braced himself before crawling along the seats over the ocean of shards over to the driver's side. Looking for the boot release, he looked around the dashboard, seeing nothing. He dragged himself out and crawled over more glass to the Lion, giving him a tap on the shoulder.

"A little busy here." He responded while poking his head out to take another shot with his pistol.

"I need the first aid kit from the boot. Where's the release?" Quentin asked, lowering himself as far as possible.

"Isn't one. You'll need the keys. Paramedics and back-up are maybe ten minutes away. Of course, Tundratown had no industrial plants. Now we're stuck out in the shit with no backup." The lion cursed. "Hey get the guns out the trunk and I'll get you a fucking medal, eh?"

"Right." Quentin replied before moving back over through the car, carving himself up further and pulling out the keys. The siren above him fell silent as the sound of electricity and shattering plastic cut off the wails. On the way out of the car, a bullet struck the steering wheel, sending plastic shards flying and jabbing into Quentin's skin as a final parting gift.

'Too close, too close.' Quentin practically threw himself out of the car onto the floor, where he caught his breath. Everything stung, and he was sure the glass was stuck in his hands and arms. Getting to the car boot was a whole other monster. He'd be risking exposure to the gunman, but Leo looked worse and despite his white fur, he still seemed pale. He didn't really have a choice. Quentin knew he'd feel worse giving up now, so he crawled along and round to the boot.

"Quentin, progress please." Kellan said, causing Quentin to jump, having forgotten he was even on a call. "He has limited time."

"Yeah, I needed to get the keys for the boot. On it now." Quentin replied, hushed, still on the floor, reaching his hand around the car into the lock.

"You're looking for a tourniquet. A professional one is simple to use, but I'll go over it." Kellan assured placatingly.

Quentin was not at the right angle to get the key in. He would have to go into the open. The ram at least seemed more focused on the lion officer to see him yet. With a click, he pushed it open, having to stand in a hunched position. Trauma bag. Thank god. He then pulled a long shotgun off a rack and a few boxes of assorted ammunition. A snap of a bullet piercing right through the metal next to his head made him drop some boxes. He left them in his haste to get back.

Quentin dropped the bag by Leo and handed the lion the shotgun. "Here. Anymore ammo or requests and you can fucking do it."

The lion turned the shotgun over and loaded in the shells. "Good enough, good work. Sorry you had to do it just busy, ya know?"

'I'm also sorry I had to do this.'

Opening up the large bag, Quentin saw a large stock of different medical equipment and, hopefully, everything he'd need. "Come on Leo. Talk to me. Kellan tourniquet time. Run me through it. Stay awake Leo."

"Yeah, I'm still here and awake. Say hi to Kellan for me." Leo said, gritting his teeth but still slumping against the car more.

"Not the time. Kellan instructions please." Quentin said timidly.

"Alright, put in on a few inches above the wound, then tighten it as hard as you can and clip it with the buckle. Then take the windlass, which is the attached rod, and twist until the bleeding stops. Check under the gauze and bandages. Then secure the windlass with the strap." Kellan said, reeling off instructions confidently.

"Done. I don't see the blood spreading anymore under the bandage." Quentin said, giddy with success. "We did it!"

"Make sure to not down the painkiller dosage and when you put the tourniquet on." Kellan said. "Now just stay safe and wait for an ambulance."

"Thank you so, so much, Kellan. I'm going to hang up, but you deserve a fucking award. We'll talk soon. All of us." Quentin said sincerely.

"Stay safe." Kellan said, hanging up hesitantly.

"Am I going to die? Cops always die in films." Leo asked, looking serious, with fear visible in his eyes. "I don't want to die."

"No. You're stable enough now. We just wait for an ambulance. I just need your notebook to make sure you get the care you need." Quentin said, getting handed a red stained notebook and pen so he could note down the details. It stung to hear him sound so defeated and terrified. It was a far cry from usual. "Not every film."

"They do if they're an extra." Leo said bitterly.

"You're not an extra, you'll make it." Quentin assured him, patting him on the shoulder. "You're just like Dewey from the Scream series."

"We haven't watched five yet," Leo said, giving a choked scoff. "But we will, right?"

"We sure will."

A third gunshot cut off their conversation along with the sound of howling pain, followed up by a string of further gunshots. With the bullets no longer whizzing past his head, Quentin poked over the car to see his landlady looking angry while holding a smoking snub-nose revolver. The ram was still shooting, still shouting incomprehensively when from the burning building both Connor and Carlene came inching out of the building. Leo's lion partner with Quentin behind the car was getting bolder with people on three sides. The ram was still reeling from the pain, but there were no more gunshots, just frustrated shouting. With the ram staggering back onto his feet and wheeling out into the open, and the street backing out into the road. Carlene made a run into the street, much more singed and burnt than he'd last seen her tackling the ram down and restraining him. It was over. Sirens were now converging on the area, filling the air and smothering the crackling fire. Safe.

It was over. Quentin was sitting on the edge of the curb by the destroyed police cruiser and staring between his bloodied and shredded hands and his now extinguished flat. Quentin was tired with the adrenaline leaving his tired and broken body. It was over. He kept reminding himself. Quentin could hardly believe himself, since he was back at square one. All it took was one moment. It left him reminiscing about that same moment when he felt himself falling and then bleeding in Savannah Central. Hopelessness. Here he was on the back foot of a disaster and bleeding just the same. It was like drifting at sea and finding a raft. You make all these improvements and it seems like while you are still adrift in a foreign place, you can make a go of things. You have a raft, after all. It could be worse. You could have drowned, but then a storm and the waves hit and it feels like you're drowning all the same. No progress, only halting the inevitable. So now here he was feeling just as small as when he woke up here.

The paramedics had wrapped him in a trauma blanket to cover up the rips and tears in his clothes, now dried with burgundy blood. The cold was numbing the pain from the cuts. It didn't matter anymore. The superficial cuts weren't nearly as bad as being stuck in his head in this moment. It could be worse, was the phrase he kept repeating in his head. Carlene and Connor had made it out thanks to the fire extinguishers he'd bought just in case, so they could get out. Outside of smoke, Connor was no worse for wear thanks to the efforts of Carlene and her taking the brunt.

Quentin couldn't figure out how to feel about Carlene. She'd opened the window and left an opportunity. If he wasn't so exhausted, he'd probably give her a piece of his mind. Just shout and scream about how she'd destroyed his home. But would she learn? But she had got Connor out unharmed by putting herself in harm's way, and then she took down the arsonist. No matter what, he was still mad.

"Quentin." A voice said, sitting down on the curb next to him. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." It was Carlene. It was probably as much as she'd ever chosen to say to him.

"I wish I'd listened." Carlene said morosely. "I don't really know why I didn't. I just didn't trust what you had to say."

Quentin scoffed. "Why not? What did I do for you to not trust what I had to say?"

"It is a long story which doesn't justify it, just explains it. But it is for another time. I will make this up to you." Carlene said, standing up with the white of her fur and the bandages intertwining.

"Uh huh. Bye." He had a perfect opportunity to say all he felt boiling in his chest, but here he was still sitting by the side of the road while everyone else milled about. No condemnation over Connor having to go into intensive therapy just to cope with having to go through the fire all over again. And for what? Quentin had no home and Connor was quiet and couldn't focus on a single point for the life of him since he was "watching out for the flames."

Quentin finally tore his eyes off the smouldering ruins of the block of flats to see his landlady brushing off a stern talking to about firearm laws. The officer grilling her looked like she was about to run out of patience, having to repeat "illegal" and "unregistered" over again. Quentin stood up, still wrapped in the crinkling blanket to walk over to his tired looking landlord since the officer had stomped off raving out her supervisor.

"Sorry about the flat, Mrs Faulkner." Quentin said, standing next to her while she aimlessly stared at the blackened building.

"It's alright hon, it's just a building and I'm not the one who lives in it, so you got the worse end of the deal." She said with surprising neutrality. Somehow, the lack of anger made him feel more guilty since he felt he was at least partially to blame. "How are you doing?"

"Well, I've been better." Quentin said flatly, trying to change the subject before she asked any more questions. "So what's going to happen with the gun situation?"

"That'll be fine. They'll take it off me, but I help take down a violent criminal so I'm a damn hero and if they think otherwise, they can talk to my lawyer." She laughed, pulling out a cigarette. "Other than that, everything will be fine."

"Good to hear. Anyway, I should get going." Quentin said, distracted by the ambulance that was gearing up to leave soon. "Sorry about the flat. Again."

"Wait, a damn second." Mrs Faulkner called out, grabbing Quentin's wrist. "Look, the insurance will cover it. Once it's fixed and maybe refurbished and had some changes, you can have it back. It's the bastard in the cruiser's fault, anyway."

"Thanks." Quentin pulled away, hoping to not miss his opportunity to make sure that Leo was actually going to be alright.

"I'll keep an eye out for anything you might want while cleaning up. I'll let you go. Check on your friend." Quentin nodded and then walked directly towards the ambulance, forsaking the glass littered road in case he missed the ambulance. How he wished he lived in a world that had shoes, but no now there were tiny cuts budding on his feet. He didn't want the last thing he said to be about Leo's mortality. Quentin had to be sure.

Quentin stood just out of the way while the pair of paramedics push the stretcher into the ambulance. The paramedics had properly packed and covered the wound with the green tourniquet from earlier still sticking out. They'd cut the trouser leg away and put on a splint to keep his leg still in case the metric tonne of gauze wasn't enough. No red had poked through, which was a relief, so he could only hope that meant he'd done it right.

"Sir, you need to step away from the rear of the vehicle." One of them said, closing a door while the other set up inside. Quentin noticed the lack of sirens and rush, which meant it was better than he hoped or worse. Looking behind him at all the chaos and memories, he couldn't stay here in the eye of a hurricane, watching the end of a city wide disaster.

"I just want to make sure he's okay. To make sure my friend is all right. Please." Quentin almost begged, glancing back and forth between escaping with a friend or watching his home smoke.

"I know and I'm sorry, but it's family only." The paramedic said, going to close the last door. He looked genuinely apologetic, at least.

A gravelly voice called through the door before it closed, and the other paramedic stepped out. "What if he's with me?" The other paramedic turned around at Leo's voice before turning back to her colleague.

"You know, he's pretty shredded as well. We'll just consider him another patient." The driver nodded and moved on. "Come on, kid, you need those cuts checked."

Quentin climbed up into the ambulance while the paramedic followed him in, slamming the door closed and banging on the cab to get the vehicle going. Leo still looked pale, but the life was returning to his face again, at least between the pain or painkillers.

"You know, I think I'll make it." Leo said, smiling grimly into the fluorescent light

"What makes you think that?" Quentin asked, trying to go with the mood.

"I don't know. Maybe the drugs are getting to me." Leo tried sitting up as best he could with the splint. "What happened to you?"

"I didn't want to mention it, but did you swim through razor blades?" the paramedic asked.

"There was a lot of broken glass between me and the trauma bag." Quentin said.

"Well, good job with the first aid most people wouldn't have known what to do." The paramedic complimented.

"Well, I had help from a doctor, but sure." Quentin said, brushing off the comment.

"Either way, he might not have made it if not for you and your doctor friends' quick action." the paramedic said, moving to fill out some charts.

"Your my hero Quentin." Leo said mockingly.

"Shut up." Quentin rolled his eyes. "I see it didn't set you back any."

Leo scoffed and laid back down for the rest of the ride, giving Quentin some time to think in the new found silence. Things like letting Nick and Judy know to meet him in the hospital and how this had all happened in thirty-fucking-minutes.

'What has my life come to?'

(14/03/23)

Well here we are again with a dramatic outcome but not end. There is more to come to fulfil the theme behind this little arc we have here. It'll probably become clear as this goes on since this isn't a crime thriller so things will probably be a bit more straightforward. I will admit I did consider doing what most police shows do now which is point all fingers at this one guy and then pick some random person to become really weird and suspicious so the viewer doesn't just know from the beginning.

So this is the last of my stocked up chapters from last time I took a week so I may take another. Turns out writing out a bunch of chapters and then being able to think on the plot is really helping the plot not be utter shit. I'm pretty sure if I'd kept it exactly like how I originally thought it out we'd all be worse off.

A few closing trivia pieces:

- This story has had 10,000 viewers, so fucking yikes. Thanks to anyone who reads this but sheesh who'd have guessed.

- Quentin's first name came from a Quentin Barnes from the first State of Decay. His last name Keener came from Aaron Keener from the Division and also kinda from the VA Brandon Keener, who did Garrus in Mass Effect.

- Leo got his name from a common Boston first name and because his last name is similar to Rizzoli from the TV show Rizzoli & Isles.

Trivia over. Thanks for reading. Review please, I beg of you.