June 30th, 2021
2200 hours
Ominous clouds still hung heavy and foreboding in the sky, obscuring the line between water and space, both merging into a whirl of chaotic, tumultuous existence. Rain pinged as it fell unapologetically onto the steel platform, the drops quick and sharp, stinging Robyn's skin.
She shivered, the storm bringing in a chill on the breeze, since the wind had picked up considerably. Her hair whipped unpleasantly around her face, and she scowled, quickly pulling it into a messy bun. She couldn't afford any distraction now, though the raging tempest was easily distracting. She almost forgot where she was and her mission.
She snorted, peeved with how easy it was for Quinn to have her do his bidding. She wondered, had he not threatened to prosecute her for stealing the samples, if she would even be involved in the investigation. On one hand, she would be working on her thesis, and quite content to continue where she left off. However, the deepening mystery of what was happening would be hard to ignore, and being incredibly inquisitive, she would be unable to resist.
An uneasiness plagued her mind: her interaction with Vince was unusual, to say the least. While the drawing he'd produced instilled in her a vague confusion, it also elicited a daunting, preemptory apprehension she couldn't shake.
The low, constant hum of a boat motor reached her ears, and she leaned over the railing, relieved to see Garcia's boat illuminated in the lights of the rig. He edged the dinghy slowly toward the rails, tying it off with a grunt as he leaned forward, off balance from his ample stomach.
"Finally," Robyn grumbled, scowling reproachfully "you took forever. Gordon brought me back from the mainland hours ago."
"Why are we doing this in the dark?" Garcia grunted lowly, eyes darting around warily. It was well past sunset, and the deck was empty, the last of the workers having retired to the mess hall.
"It would be far too conspicuous during the day, don't you think?" Quinn replied coolly, heaving an oxygen tank up from the small motorboat.
Robyn stared at Quinn. He was climbing the ladder with one arm and hoisting the tanks up with the other. He managed to keep his suit impeccable the entire way, which was the least impressive thing about the situation. She wished he wasn't so damn attractive: it would be a lot easier to remain objective. Garcia struggled up the ladder behind him, wheezing, the bags of gear weighing on his back.
"Here." Quinn sat a tank down in front of Robyn and she struggled to form words.
"Robyn, it's time to get suited up." He quirked a brow at her hesitation, folding his arms across his chest expectantly. His biceps flexed perceptibly beneath his Armani jacket, and she gulped, unable to tear her gaze away.
"You are not backing out of this." He warned, sighing in agitation, beginning to shrug out of his suit. She kept mutely staring, up until he kicked off his shoes and began unbuttoning his slacks, at which point she let out a yelp and shielded her eyes.
"God, Quinn! A little warning would be nice!"
His low, pleasant chuckle greeted her ears like a liquid libido. She hated that he had that effect on her, wishing they could be at each other's throats all the time. Awareness of his beauty elicited unwelcome emotions inside of her, and she resented him for it.
"I have bike shorts on underneath, Robyn."
Her name slid off his tongue like a forbidden fruit and she inhaled sharply. "Good," was all she could manage.
"You can remove your hands now."
She slowly brought down her arms, his form filling her vision slowly, and she could see his toned stomach before he pulled up the suit. "Right, I'll get ready too. Just turn around, would you?" Her voice trembled, though she wasn't sure why. She'd dived many times before, but this time she would be with an FBI agent, investigating a murder that she had no business being involved with. It wracked her nerves beyond a comfortable level, and she was struggling to stay perceptive. A cool, even head was necessary when diving, and she couldn't afford to lose it under the water.
"I've seen many a female undergarment, and I doubt yours will surprise me in the least."
"Quinn!" Robyn spun, halfway through removing her shorts. She realized her mistake a moment too late: Quinn's eyes, while usually cool and collected, were blazing with heat, an inferno of desire, and they were trained on her panty line.
"You should put on your equipment." He stated coldly, though his gaze held a different tone. She blushed hotly and struggled to push her legs into the fabric, yanking it up over her thin tank top. His darkening eyes watched, unblinking, as the tight fabric hugged her form. She quickly wiggled her arms into it, pausing only when she realized she needed help with the back.
"Can somebody help me with this?" She grumbled, dipping her head.
"I'll do it," Garcia huffed, fumbling with the back of her garment "as long as you two get in the damn water and quit eye fucking each other."
Neither party spoke in reply, they just quietly resumed suiting up for the dive, though both shot resentful glares at the lieutenant's backside. Robyn eased toward the ladder once her mask was on, taking in the inky black of the water below. Quinn brushed up next to her, startling her slightly, and she breathed out deeply.
"You have to focus." He began, but she cut him off, irritated.
"I know how to do this." She snapped, beginning her descent down the ladder.
"Do you?" He scoffed haughtily, yanking her arm to pull her back. "You forgot to do an equipment check. I can't babysit you; you should have this figured out." His tone was waspish.
Anger flared in the pit of her stomach. "I didn't have to be here," she hissed sharply "you were the one who asked. You commanded me to do this, so this is on you."
Her brow furrowed and she spun away, intending to leave him behind.
"Excuse me, you still haven't checked my equipment." Quinn's voice was softer, still authoritative, but not nearly as chastising as before.
She blushed profusely, mentally cursing herself for the lack of focus. "Oops. Come here, I'll do you." She made him turn, trying to ignore how strong his broad shoulders looked in the suit. Glancing over the equipment, she made sure the hoses were secure and the tank was ready to go. He returned the favor, playfully taping her mask when he finished. It was a strange gesture, but Robyn figured that was the closest thing to an apology from him.
"Are you ready?" Dark, metallic eyes peered into her brighter ones: they seemed to flash with a dangerous excitement.
"Always." She grumbled, breaking the contact, continuing her decent down the ladder. Once on the bottom rung, she flipped backward into the sparkling water beneath the rig. Luckily it was well lit, which would make it easier to navigate.
The cold water enveloped her completely as she dove a few feet, slowly acclimating to the feeling. Her ears clogged, but she could hear the muffled drone of the machinery as it hummed, and the echoing of the rushing water. The visibility was low, but still enough to see, as the light from above filtered down, penetrating the first few yards of depth. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to dive too far, and she imagined any valves down here were probably close to the surface. Even so, she turned on her headlamp, just in case they had to go deeper than expected.
She took steady, even breaths, repeating a calming mantra in her head. She'd done this before, and knew it was essential to stay as calm as possible. Something disturbed the water beside her, sending up a burst of bubbles. Quinn motioned to her mask, which she understood to be another equipment check. She sent a thumbs up before turning and swimming toward one of the large pipes near the derrick. The noise of the rig works got louder as she neared, and she hesitated, unsure where she would find a valve.
She observed the structure, how there were very few pipes and supports down there. One caught her attention, though, and she thought she saw the shadow of a wheel just beneath the water's surface. She swam eagerly toward it, not wanting to linger any longer than necessary. As experienced as she was, she still didn't particularly enjoy diving, and preferred to be on a boat, if she was on the water.
Pulling her body parallel with the pipe, she looked over the structure, kicking her legs leisurely to remain in position. Her prediction was correct: there was indeed a valve wheel there, crusted over with barnacles and algae. A gloved hand stretched out as she grasped the handles, grunting with effort as she tried to release it. Suddenly, the realization struck her that opening it could be a disastrous idea: not being well studied in the inner workings of a rig, she couldn't predict what would happen if she continued.
Frowning, she tilted her head forward, bringing her lamp closer. Using that, and the dull, greenish glow of the light from the rig, her eyes wandered over the metal, searching for something of use. Finally, oozing from the valve shaft, she spied a thick, oily substance. It wasn't the gas Quinn asked for, but of course it was asinine to collect a gas sample underwater.
Robyn quickly retrieved a vial from her fanny pack, placing the lip of it just under the muck, breathing evenly as she quickly uncorked it and swiped in an upward motion, trying to gather as much of it as she could instead of the salty sea water.
Hastily inserting the cork, she noticed a shadow dart through her peripheral, and she floated around, squinting to find the source. Quinn was nowhere to be found as she peered through the boggy water. Her head turned side to side, trying to locate him. Panic began to grip her: she hoped he hadn't had an equipment malfunction. She didn't remember him following her to the pipes.
Suddenly, something brushed by her leg, and her breath quickened, sending up waves of bubbles, further obscuring the space around her. She spun wildly, unable to see through the disturbed water.
A sharp, cutting pain erupted on her calf as something ripped through her suit. Whatever it was pulled hard, yanking her down several feet, and her breath exploded from her chest, causing a massive bubble cloud to surround her. Her heart was pounding wildly with fear, sure she was being attacked by a shark.
The force on her leg grew, and she struggled to yank her body away from the unseen menace. Unfortunately, instead of freeing herself, she was dragged down into the depths, her arms flailing wildly, searching for something to grasp onto.
Her frantic fingers met nothing, no object with which to save herself, and the thing continued to pull her into that dark, dismal void.
~
Quinn swam forward, head roving, trying to locate Robyn. He'd had to adjust his apparatus and lost visual of her. He cursed himself inwardly: if anything happened to her it would be his fault. He was supposed to be her support, in the event something went wrong.
Fear wasn't something he was used to, but now, as he looked around the greenish haze wildly, it gripped his heart. He had to find her, to make sure she was alright. His legs kicked faster than imaginable as he darted around the pylons, searching for her silhouette. He didn't even see the bubbles from her tank, which greatly disturbed him.
Panicking now, he readied himself to surface and call in a rescue team, however, something caught his eye as he glanced down. Bursting up in a rush of rapid bubbles, he saw her, rising far too quick for safety. Her limbs flailed wildly as she ascended, body jerking in a discombobulated way. She kept glancing behind her, as if something was chasing her.
When she got close enough for him to see her eyes, they were widened in terror. Quinn reached out a hand as she passed him, trying to get her to slow down: she would get the bends if she surfaced too quickly. His eyes were wide with fear as she struggled from his grasp, hitting him in the head as she kicked upward. His vision blurred, but he began to swim after her, determined to take care of her. Whatever happened down there was on him; he should have been paying attention.
As he burst up from the surface, the water breaking and sending small waves across the water, he saw she was already on Garcia's boat, struggling out of her gear. He cursed and quickly swam the length to her, heaving his body up and over the side.
Robyn was gasping, choking on the fresh air as it rushed into her lungs. Quinn whipped off his own tank and dropped it with a clank, coming to her side and grabbing her by the shoulders.
"What the hell were you thinking?" He shouted, shaking her slightly. Her eyes were unfocused, darting around in jerking, crazed motions.
She opened her mouth to speak, and instead puked all over the hull of the boat. Hot, scared tears ran down her face, her eyes still glazed over, and Quinn realized he had to try a different approach to pull her out of her terror.
He yanked his suit off from the neck down, stopping at his waist, and brought his hands around to unzip hers, doing the same. Quickly he embraced her, pressing his torso flush with hers, hoping the body heat was enough to pull her out of her funk. She was in danger of becoming hypothermic.
She felt good against him, and under less serious circumstances, he imagined he would take great pleasure in their bodies being so close. Now, though, he just prayed she was alright, that she wouldn't get too sick from ascending that fast.
"Robyn, I'm here." He settled on, pushing his usual, domineering personality to the recesses of his mind. As much as he hated to admit it, especially since he'd only known her a short period of time, he cared for her, and needed to show her that now, so he could calm her.
"You're alright." He soothed, enjoying the way it felt natural to caress her, to hold her close, their bodies molding together. Her skin was starting to warm, the goosebumps slowly disappearing, as he embraced her.
"You're going to be okay, I'm here." He soothed again, pulling her head into his shoulder, and they stayed like that a long while.
Garcia stuck his head over the rail of the deck, mouth open, clearly prepared to shout, but Quinn gave him a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, his eyes wide and worried, hoping the motion conveyed to the lieutenant the severity of the situation. Robyn was shaking uncontrollably in his Quinn's arms, and he hoped like hell she wasn't going into shock.
He mouthed to Garcia, who squinted in the backlight of the rig, finally nodding and disappearing over the railing, returning moments later with something in his hands. He eased down the slick ladder precariously, finally reaching the bottom, chest heaving with effort.
Quinn scowled at him, a gesture to which Garcia replied with mouthed expletives, holding out a wool blanket and first aid kit.
Quinn let out a bated breath he didn't know he was holding, deftly tucking the blanket around Robyn, snuggling the pair of them inside its warm folds. He gestured for Garcia to open the kit, which he did, grumbling. Quinn had to give him credit, though, where credit was due; Garcia knew the instruments that Quinn needed to make sure the biologist was okay.
Garcia handed him an oxygen detector and a blood pressure cuff, crouching next to Robyn and rubbing her back soothingly. It was a sign of endearment: clearly she was important not only to the case, and to Quinn, but to everyone she met. The lieutenant continued to rub her as Quinn placed the medical instruments on arm.
He waited, filled with the most anxiety he'd ever felt, until the results were in, the machines beeping shrilly in the silence.
"Is she okay?" Garcia grumbled out. Quinn decided he was incapable of making other noises when he spoke, so he didn't take it personally. That was just the way Garcia sounded.
"Her stats are normalizing." Quinn observed, keeping his voice low.
"What happened down there?" Garcia attempted to whisper, but it still came out gravely and rough.
"I don't know." Quinn replied, forehead wrinkling with worry. "She hasn't said a word since she came up."
"I was attacked." The words were strangled, confined, and nearly imperceptible.
Quinn's shocked, relieved eyes met Garcia's before they turned their attention to the biologist. Her hair hung, dripping, across her face, and her torso was still leaned up against the agent's limply, as if she couldn't hold herself up.
"You were attacked?" Quinn began slowly, trying to keep a calm tone in his voice. "What were you attacked by?"
"I-I couldn't see it." Robyn sobbed, crying inconsolably into his shoulder. He held his arms around her as her body shook.
"That's okay." Quinn soothed, joining Garcia in rubbing her back. "You just relax and try to stay warm."
"Are you injured?" Garcia asked, and Quinn berated himself for not having the foresight to ask.
"My leg hurts." Robyn whispered, sobs dwindling. Quinn was amazed: he knew she was strong, but being attacked underwater was an entirely different experience than if it occurred on land. For one, you couldn't see, which increased the level of fear exponentially. Secondly, the feeling of confinement was already present, with the weight of the water and equipment hindering agile mobility. Robyn continued to surprise him, something that he anticipated would continue in the future.
"What part?" Quinn asked, frantically searching her limbs for trauma.
"Here." She pointed, and he grabbed the first aid box, tilting her gaze to meet his.
"In order to treat this, I need to remove your dive suit. Is that alright?" He asked, not wanting to startle her by just tearing it off.
"Please." She begged, shuddering, looking away as he yanked the wet fabric down and off her legs. Garcia pulled the wool around her tighter, keeping only the affected leg exposed.
Quinn's eyes widened as he took in her wound: three large, deep gashes extended from just below the outside of her knee to right above her ankle. She was lucky that whatever attacked her didn't sever her Achilles tendon.
He quickly dotted Betadine on the gouges, a hiss escaping her lips as it burned.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered, lips twitching with discomfort. He hated that he was the one hurting her.
"No, that's okay." She winced, remaining still as he finished and placed gauze over the wound, wrapping it deftly with medical tape.
"Done." He smiled softly, tipping her chin, searching her eyes with his. "You're okay now."
Seeing her lids tremble, tears resuming their cascade down her red cheeks, he drew her back into his embrace, content to hold her as long as she needed.