After War blew up, Dunne found someone who looked like Quincy sheltered behind a headstone.
Dunne called for Hannahlee, who was taking care of Leif, and then he dropped to one knee. "Quincy? Can you hear me?"
The man who looked like Quincy shook his head. "Not...Quincy." He brushed at the shrapnel embedded in his bruised, bloody face. "My name is Knox."
Dunne frowned. "May I talk to Quincy? Gilbert, I mean?"
"Gone," said Knox. "Gone for good."
"Are you sure?" said Dunne.
"He was never here, anyway." Knox coughed. "Gilbert died twenty years ago. Because of me."
"I thought it was the other way around," said Dunne. "Quincy said Knox was the one who died."
"He lied," said Knox. "I lied."
"Oh." Dunne slumped. After all they'd been through together, he'd ended up thinking of Quincy as a friend...but apparently, Quincy was gone, lost in the battle or explosion. A few weeks ago, Dunne wouldn't have believed it was possible, but he was disappointed at the thought of never hearing from the goofball again.
Just then, Hannahlee rushed over with a first-aid kit she'd brought with her from Gowdy's cave. She immediately set to work, pulling antiseptics and bandages from the kit. "You were pretty close to that explosion. It's a miracle you're alive, Quincy."
"No miracle," said Knox. "Quincy's dead."
Hannahlee stared at Knox, fixing him in her fiery green gaze. "Well," she said, "you don't look so hot right now, but I actually think you'll live."
"My name is Knox."
Hannahlee switched her burning green gaze to Dunne. "This might be a case of traumatic brain injury."
"Quincy is gone," said Knox. "But he did leave one last message for the both of you."
"What's that?" said Dunne.
"Something called 'Pornsleeves.' It's his last slashfic filk song." Knox cleared his throat.
Then, to the tune of "Greensleeves," he sang in a cracked, wobbly voice. "Are you going...to have a three-way? Gowdy, Dunne, and sweet Hannahleeee.
"Remember to shoot it...on videota-ape. It's the closest you'll get to a new Willows movie."
Knox went on from there, singing more verses, each one filthier than the last.
And Dunne, who once had cringed at Sweet Quincy Windsor's raunchy slashfic filk and everything about that eccentric weirdo, laughed so hard that tears ran down his face.