June 30th, 2021
2200 hours
"I need a beer." Shepp yawned, shifting in his seat as he stared at the monitors propped up on the desk in the security office. It was late, and he was beyond exhausted from days of not sleeping. A coffee pot in the corner had been on continuous brew since that morning, though it didn't seem to help. He could probably bleed caffeine by now and still not have enough energy to function.
"I thought you didn't drink." Gordon grumbled from the chair next to him, his watchful eyes trained on the feed from Lynne's office.
"I don't, but now seems as good a time as any to start." Shepp shrugged indifferently. "Though something stronger than beer would probably do the trick."
"That would knock you right out, but I wouldn't say no to a cold one, either. Alcohol might make this more interesting, but I doubt it. I don't understand why we don't have shorter watch shifts."
"Don't complain, Gordon." Shepp cast him a warning glance. "Quinn probably has our office bugged."
Gordon lazily glanced around the room, waving a dismissive hand. "So, what? Maybe he needs to hear what we're saying." His tone was disconcerted, but Shepp knew better: he wasn't worried, because Quinn trusted them.
"The shifts are long for us because he can't trust anyone here." Shepp pointed out, gesturing to the monitors. "How are your subjects?"
"They've been asleep, or in the mess hall watching the ball game, for hours." Gordon supplied, nodding his head toward the computers Shepp oversaw. "What about yours?"
Shepp leaned forward, rubbing his eyes vigorously, focusing his blurry vision. "The halls are quiet."
"What about them?" Gordon gestured to three dark, obscure figures on a screen in front of Shepp. The people were on the rig platform, near the railing overlooking the ocean, fumbling around with what appeared to be diving equipment. Two were dark haired, one husky and the other taller, but not much taller than the light-haired, feminine figure that accompanied them. "What are they doing?"
"Diving. What's it look like?" Shepp shot Gordon a look of disbelief, wondering why Quinn assigned him to the case. "You aren't always this dense, are you?"
They'd only worked together occasionally, most of the time only when Quinn requested their assignment, but Shepp was always the one by their boss' side. He didn't know if it was just because they'd grown up together, their time in the service, or the fact they'd gone through the academy at the same time; whatever the reason, he was grateful toward the agent for considering him a close confidant. To be paired with another agent for most of the cases he worked was atypical, and reflected highly on him, considering Quinn's excellent track record for cases closed.
Gordon glared back. "I know they're diving; I was wondering why?"
Shepp gave an awkward shrug, arms pinned to the chair sides: he was leaned back in his seat again, watching the platform to make sure no wandering bodies stumbled upon the rest of their party.
"I think Quinn wanted a sample from the valves."
"Hmm." Gordon's mouth twisted in thought, his hand rubbing his chin. "What do they need a sample of? Why is it important to the investigation?"
"Gordon, you know damn well Quinn doesn't divulge half of what he's planning to us. I'm willing to bet, he hasn't told them either." He gestured to the silhouettes of the lieutenant and the biologist.
"He had to tell her something, to get her to go down there with him."
"You think he actually asked?" Shepp laughed, shaking his head. "She went because he told her to."
"I don't know." Gordon squinted at the screen, observing the figures as they struggled into their equipment. "They have a lot in common. She probably couldn't resist getting her hands dirty."
Shepp smirked, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. "You might be right about that. Figures he'd find a smart, gorgeous woman to coerce into doing this. Typical."
"She's pretty sexy." Gordon began, watching roguishly as the biologist stripped down to her underwear, but Shepp cut him off instantly with a warning look.
"Don't even go there." He advised, pointedly darting his eyes to Quinn's blurred outline in the feed. "She's spoken for."
"By who, Quinn?" Gordon laughed incredulously. "They can't go two minutes without trying to kill each other."
"Exactly." Shepp smiled knowingly. "Don't you remember how you acted toward your childhood crushes?"
"They're adults, Shepp. I'm pretty sure they just can't stand each other."
"Bet on it?" Shepp reached into his pant's pocket with difficulty, since he was crammed into the tight frame of the chair, and retrieved a handful of bills. "If they end up together, I win double this. If you win..."
"I'll take that action." Gordon grinned, slapping his hand out to shake Shepp's. Training their attention back to the feeds, they saw as two of the figures disappeared over the side of the platform, into the water below.
They settled into a comfortable silence, each observing their assigned monitors, the whirring of the machines the only sound in the office. After a few moments, the husky figure on the rigging turned and began moving toward the camera, closer to their office.
"Garcia's coming." Shepp nudged Gordon, who muttered sleepily and rose reluctantly from his seat, trudging to the door and opening it a crack. Metallic, thudding steps echoed through the opening, getting louder and louder, until the ample figure of the lieutenant shoved the door open fully.
"Garcia." Shepp nodded, gesturing to a small, metal chair in the corner, motioning for the officer to sit.
"Like my huge ass could fit on that rickety thing." Garcia replied, huffing with effort as he squatted to sit against the wall, his butt thumping on the floor loudly as he ungracefully plopped down. "This isn't any better, though."
"How are they doing?" Gordon asked, peaking out across the platform before shutting the door softly.
"No idea. They better be alright," Garcia rasped, shifting as he tried to get comfortable on the floor "I don't know jack about diving, so if they're drowning, don't blame me."
"They're fine." Shepp yawned, offering Garcia the cold remnants of his coffee. "Caffeine?"
"Sure," he grumbled, stretching out to grab it from Shepp's outstretched arm "as long as there's no backwash in there."
"Drink it, Garcia." Shepp sighed, reaching over to pour himself another cup from the pot, which was now scalded and smelled faintly burned. His stomach turned in distaste, but he wasn't one to let something go to waste, so he filled his mug to the brim, grimacing as he tasted the muddy slop.
"Gladly." The lieutenant chugged the last bit and brandished the empty mug at Shepp, who poured him another, as well.
"What the hell did you brew this from, crude oil?" Garcia scowled at his drink, giving it a perfunctory sniff before easing his mouth onto the ceramic. His face twisted in disgust and he shuddered.
"Take it or leave it." Shepp muttered bitterly.
"I'd probably drink hot cat piss, I'm so cold. It got chilly out there when the wind picked up." Garcia said, eyeing the computers. "Y'all are lucky. Those monitors are warm."
"Yeah," Gordon admitted quietly, voice incoherent from exhaustion "but they'll make you sleepy..."
"What the hell are we even doing?" Garcia asked, his eyes searching Shepp's for answers. The problem was, Shepp didn't really have anything to offer him in reply. Quinn withheld so much information from him that he doubted he could enlighten any of the others.
Realistically, that was how Quinn tended to operate, though in this case, he'd left them in the dark more than usual, which did pique Shepp's interest. There was something dark, something dangerous, that Quinn felt was necessary to conceal; hopefully, not so long that they wouldn't be able to solve the crime. Shepp understood that when Quinn behaved particularly unforthcoming, there was a very important purpose behind the deception, and when the time was right, he would divulge his motives.
"Diving for a sample of some kind." Shepp answered, earning a reproachful glare from Garcia.
"I guessed as much, Sherlock." He scowled, turning his attention back to the screen. "They've been gone for a while. I should go check on them." He tossed back another swill of his drink, screwing up his face as it burned on the way down.
He heaved up his weight, propping his hands on his knees and rising on shaky, unsteady legs.
"You need help?" Gordon snickered, reaching out to shove Garcia's backside, boosting him up.
"Fuck off." Garcia growled, raising his hand in a rude gesture, limping across the small room and out the door. He slammed it shut as he retreated, muttering curses the whole way.
"He's so unpleasant." Gordon scowled, glaring at the monitors as he watched Garcia plod across the rig.
"I imagine he thinks we are, too." Shepp mused, brows raised in amusement. "We did swoop in and steal this case out from under him. Besides, you're not great company, either."
"Oh, shove off."
A pregnant pause lingered in the air. Both men settled submissively in their chairs, resigned to staring at motionless screens for the night, save for the one sending feedback of the diving expedition.
Eventually, Gordon opened his mouth, rolling his lips for a minute as he searched for words. "Does this strike you as odd?"
"What do you mean?" Shepp cast a glance sideways, eyelids drooping dangerously.
"I mean, this whole case just doesn't sit right."
"I've been with Quinn through a lot of weird cases, so no, not particularly." Shepp shrugged, mouth pulled down in discord.
"It doesn't add up." Gordon continued, squinting at his hands as if they held answers. "This guy gets gutted, which is right up our alley," he slid his eyes up to meet Shepp's "but then, Quinn finds this beached dolphin and suddenly, we're investigating both?"
Shepp didn't want to go down this road. "Listen, I know Quinn better than most, which isn't saying much, considering he's about as friendly and approachable as a porcupine," he began, wary of saying anything bad about his boss "but he's never been wrong, and he's never gotten me in a situation where my life was jeopardized."
"That's great, but something still isn't right about all this." Gordon observed, scratching his head.
"As much as I hate to agree, yes, there is something miffing about this. These leads just don't seem to mesh, and they don't go anywhere." Shepp said, and when Gordon started to speak, he held up a hand to silence him. "Quinn must have connected these two deaths somehow. While he hasn't shared his line of thinking, he will, in time."
"I hope so." Gordon said waspishly, glaring at the screens. Suddenly his body went rigid, eyes wide. "Look!"
Shepp whipped his head toward the screens where Gordon was pointing, his eye catching a frantic Garcia waving in panic for the camera. "Something's happened." He was on his feet in seconds, fumbling through his go bag, desperate to find the first aid kit. He sighed with relief as his frantic fingers grasped the cold metal of the case. He tucked it under his arm, pointing back at Gordon as he reached the exit. "Stay here in case we need you to radio the mainland."
"Okay." Gordon gulped as Shepp disappeared through the door.
Shepp hastened his pace down the slick steps, his heart pounding with the abrupt exertion, body fatigued from inactivity. Garcia jogged to meet him, his boots falling heavily on the metal sheeting.
"What happened?" Shepp prompted, holding out the first aid kit, which Garcia grabbed quickly, shaking his head.
"Not sure yet." He huffed, turning to hurry back, and Shepp followed suit. The reached the railing, and Shepp leaned over, bracing himself on the rung. His brow furrowed, confusion fogging his brain, as he took in the sight below him. Quinn was half naked, holding the biologist tightly to his body, both dripping wet, soaking the heavy blanket wrapped around them.
Quinn's eyes glanced up, sharing a look of terror, eyes wide and scared. Shepp's chest squeezed uncomfortably under that gaze: he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen that look, but back then, they were serving in Afghanistan, surrounded in a grotto and under fire from insurgents, so to see it now unsettled him.
"Wha-" His question caught in his throat as Quinn shook his head, turning his attention to the lieutenant, who'd descended the ladder already, tearing the first aid kit apart, handing Quinn various items.
Their mouths opened alternately, and Shepp strained his ears to catch what they were saying; however, the noise from the drilling derrick and the rush of the wind drowned out their voices. Quinn was doing something to the biologist's leg, but Shepp couldn't see properly due to Garcia's husky physique standing in his line of vision. After an excruciatingly tense wait, Garcia struggled up the ladder, scrambling ungracefully onto the deck as he found his footing.
"What happened?" Shepp asked, glancing back at the boat. Quinn finished tending to the doctor, again holding her close.
"Shark attack, we think." Garcia wheezed, clearly not coping well with the level of physical activity he'd been forced to endure.
"Shit." Shepp cursed, turning to gesture toward the camera, alerting Gordon to their status: stand by. "How bad is it?"
"Her leg's cut up, but I don't think she's lost much blood. Looks superficial, though Quinn said you could stitch her up in a minute, if you need to."
"That's better news than I expected." Shepp's heart lightened considerably. "I'll go down once he's calmed her."
He noticed Garcia staring at him scrupulously. "Is something bothering you, Lieutenant?"
"Yeah," Garcia grumbled, scratching his head, face screwed up in thought "is there anything you FBI guys can't do?"
Shepp raised a brow. "Are you referring to me stitching up Dr. Bourke?"
"Yeah." Garcia shrugged, pulling his stare away from the agent, redirecting it back to the couple in the boat as he tipped his head over the edge.
"I was in the Marines." Shepp tentatively offered by way of explanation, not thrilled to open that can of worms. "I was the unit medic."
"Damn." Garcia whistled, glancing back slowly, appreciation flitting through his features. "That's some heavy shit."
"Indeed." Shepp replied, trying not to let his mind wander to that far off land, to scenes of death and destruction he'd rather not remember. "It seems to be a useful skill, now, so I'm glad I can help Dr. Bourke."
Garcia gazed in wonder at the agent, a soft, heartfelt "Thank you for your service, Agent Shepp," leaving his normally terse mouth.
"You're very welcome, Lieutenant Garcia." Shepp flashed another signal to the camera, this time indicating their status was nonemergent.
Shepp and Garcia settled into a contemplative silence as they watched Quinn revitalize the biologist. Shepp had an ominous suspicion that this was going to be the least eventful thing that would happen during the investigation. He hoped they were prepared for whatever befell them next, but for the first time he was genuinely worried they weren't ready for what was coming.