July 1st, 2021
1730 hours
They were at a standoff.
Quinn stood menacingly in the middle of her bedroom, glaring daggers at her forehead. Robyn was sending an equally aggressive, seething look back.
No way in hell, she thought. He can't expect me to do that.
"I'm not wearing that." Robyn scoffed, casting wary eyes at the small, midnight blue dress dangling from Quinn's arm.
"What's wrong with it?" He squinted at it in confusion as he analyzed the skimpy, dropped back.
"Look at the back!" She angrily pointed at the low cut of the garment. "It's far too..."
"Sexy?" He cut her off and she gulped.
"Well, yes."
Quinn stared at the beautiful woman before him. He couldn't fathom her sudden prudish behavior.
"This is perfectly appropriate attire for tonight's festivities." He glowered, shoving the garment at her.
"I'm not going anywhere in that thing." She seethed, turning from him angrily.
"I don't understand why this is upsetting you." He continued, unzipping the garment bag and holding the dress up. "It's stunning."
Robyn chanced a glance back in spite of her raging determination. Her breath caught and she froze, bringing a trembling hand to her mouth. It was gorgeous; the soft, sparkling silk gleaming in the light.
Without warning her eyes filled with tears and spilled down her hot cheeks. Quinn balked, unsure of what to do. He didn't think he'd said anything to upset her.
"You know, usually when I offer a beautiful woman a dress," he said tentatively "they don't react in quite this manner."
"It's amazing." Robyn choked, feeling suddenly foolish for releasing years of restrained emotion in front of a near stranger.
"Then what's the issue?"
"It's just that, well..." Robyn hesitated, unsure of her mixed emotions.
"What?" Quinn asked softly, closing the small distance between them and gazing at her intently through his thick lashes.
"The last time I wore that color," Robyn began "was for my-my-" she stuttered, unable to finish her thoughts.
"When you had your wedding rehearsal dinner?" Quinn asked gently.
Robyn's eyes burned with more tears. "How did you-"
"Please don't get upset." He raised his hands, palms up, as if in offering. "I had to do background checks on everyone involved in this case."
"My personal life?" Robin choked out a sob. "Seriously?"
Quinn looked rather sheepish and his cheeks flushed slightly. "They were very thorough, extensive reports."
Robin opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She was speechless.
"There was an article about what happened. I talked to Sally about it, before I met you at the autopsy." Quinn said softly, as if this cleared up the issue. "I know you must be feeling very exposed right now."
Robyn's blood boiled and she saw red. "What the hell? Who do you think you are? I didn't invite you into my personal issues, and I am most certainly not invulnerable! You have no right to intrude on my personal life like that, Quinn Jones!" She screamed, hands grasping frantically at the furniture, the walls, anything that would help steady her trembling body. "And don't you dare assume to know what I am feeling!"
"Robyn." Quinn whispered, completely closing the gap between them, dress cast aside. The fabric pooled on the bed. "I know you aren't weak." He took her in his arms, lips barely moving against her ear, speaking in low soothing tones. "From the moment I met you, you have proved to be the most capable woman I've ever known."
Her head flopped dejectedly against his strong shoulder and she wept freely: crying for the years of longing, of lost family, of forgotten love.
She sobbed into his strong chest for what seemed like an eternity. She'd been swept into a black hole, forces tugging her between two harsh realities: the one she'd lost and the one standing before her. The tears were more angry than sad, and poured out all the regret and resentment she felt for being left alone, and also for not being able to truly live.
In the dim light of the lamps she thought she saw hope in the later. The warm, sure arms around her tightened, drawing her closer, their heat engulfing her in a comfort she had forgotten. Perhaps the man standing in front of her was the motivation she needed to move forward. Though they argued incessantly, and he never ceased to be the most haughty, insufferable person she'd ever met, she enjoyed their banter. Happiness was elusive for her, but somehow, amid the verbal disagreements and sly sideways glances, Quinn made her feel it.
The sudden recognition jerked her out of her stupor, and she responded to Quinn's soothing hands running over her cold back by bringing her trembling ones around his waist and wrapping them there with a snug resoluteness.
"You can do this." He whispered encouragingly, gently tipping her tear stained chin upward. His stormy eyes bore into hers and she allowed herself to feel an understanding, a pact with those deep grey pools.
"Everything's going to be okay."
"How do you know?" She huffed.
"I don't," he replied calmly, running his hand through her hair and tucking a wayward strand behind her ear "but considering my occupation, I have to be hopeful."
Robyn fought to ignore the pleasurable shiver that spread from where his hand rested, tangled casually in her hair. "To what purpose?"
"Honestly? I convince myself that I make a difference. That way, I do. It's a choice." He shrugged. "Nothing more. I'm not any more intelligent than you, or stronger than you, or even as objective as you. In fact, that's something I struggle with."
Robyn sniffed. "You seem so sure of yourself. How is it that you do not have faith in yourself?"
"I would ask you that same question, but it would be pointless. 'Beating a dead horse', shall I say." He chuckled, pulling back a bit and smiling gently at her. "You can do this, Robyn."
Robyn thought she felt him stiffen as she ran her hands contentedly down his back. His sure touch calmed her nerves; this was the closest she'd felt to a man in years. It scared her how good his gentle fingertips felt on her cool skin, how much she liked the scent of his aftershave, how tender his breath felt on her cheek as he whispered sweet encouragement.
Robyn felt herself physically relaxing, breathing in his scent deeply.
"Are you okay now?" He whispered, lips inches from hers.
"Yes." She breathed back, struck by a sudden, irrational longing for his mouth to meet hers.
"Good." He stated calmly, pulling back and picking up the forgotten dress. "You can put this on."
"What?"
"You need to change. We only have an hour till the benefit." He said, settling himself in the armchair by her bookcase. "I'll be here waiting."
Robyn blinked in shock, appalled by his nonchalant behavior: to think she'd imagined getting physically involved with the cocky prick!
"Fine." She hissed, yanking the bathroom door open. "I'll be out in a minute."
The resounding slam didn't faze Quinn; he simply smiled and grabbed a magazine from the neighboring coffee table.
It didn't take long for Robyn to shower and change: the only thing she wasn't sure of was how to wear her hair. Finally, she settled on a half-up do, leaving strands of wavy hair trailing down her back. She hadn't realized it was so long. She kept her makeup light, opting to go for a fresh, natural look. The dress was stunning enough, and in any case, she didn't think she would do it justice.
"Let's go." She huffed, still peeved at Quinn, as she burst through the bathroom door. The sudden noise didn't bother him: he barely glanced up from his magazine.
"You look presentable." He stated, indifferently. Robyn rolled her eyes, expecting nothing less. She stalked over to the bed, grabbing a coin purse and slipping into her flats.
"You are not wearing those." Came the definitive, rolling voice behind her.
"Says who?" She challenged, trying to make for the door. Quinn was faster, though, and beat her to it, blocking it with his abnormally tall frame.
"I say. Here." He produced two beautiful, midnight blue heels, from who knows where, and bent down, slipping them onto her feet. She stumbled a bit, not use to wearing them, and steadied herself on his shoulder. "After you, Cinderella." He opened the door regally, sweeping his arm to indicate she leave first.
"I hate these." She grumbled, ankles wobbling with underused muscles. "You're lucky I didn't put on sneakers."
"Knowing you, that sounds accurate." He smirked, winking at her as he offered her his arm. "Shall we, Milady?"
"I don't have a choice." She grumbled, and his smile faltered. Guilt flooded her: she probably made him feel bad. He was trying to be playful, after all.
"How is your leg healing?" He offered, a concerned look gracing his features.
"Oh, it's okay, I guess." Robyn held in a shudder as she tried to forget that unpleasant event.
"Would you like to talk about it?" He whispered lowly, as though asking might set her off.
"No." Robyn swallowed, allowing him to lead her out. "Not right now."
Quinn stared into her eyes, nodding with understanding and casting her a genuine, joyful smile. "Let's go crash this party."
≈
"Garcia."
The sleeping cop snored loudly and turned over on the small cot upon which he'd taken residence.
"Garcia!"
He jerked away irritably, rubbing his bleary eyes in the dimness. The only light in the small closet was the soft glow of the security light above the door. He stretched his aching limbs tentatively, feeling cracking in his joints as he did.
"Garcia!"
"What?" He bellowed, glancing around wildly for the voice. The soft crackling of radio static made him feel idiotic. He pressed a button and replied "Gordon?"
"The one and only."
"You better have a damn good reason for waking me up." Garcia grumbled, scratching himself and yawning widely.
"Yeah. Quinn wants to know how the surveillance is coming. Have you heard from Winters?"
"How the hell would I know?" Garcia barked. "I've been trying to get some shut eye. May I remind you, that you all started this. I was happy to just arrest somebody, but you government types have to be balls to the wall."
"I'm just the messenger, sir. Would you like his correspondence?" Gordon sounded nearly as exasperated as he did. Garcia really couldn't blame the guy; everyone had been awake and 'detecting', as Quinn put it, since the day before yesterday.
"You couldn't send it in a bottle?"
"Pardon?"
Garcia caught the confusion in Gordon's voice and smirked. Leave it to a cutout Andy to not know that reference. "It's a song, but never mind."
"Oh! The Police!" Came the exuberant tone through the walkie.
Garcia rolled his eyes. "Ding ding, we have a winner."
"What?"
"Just give me the damn message!" He hollered.
"Oh. Radio Winters and get a status on Lynne's whereabouts on the rig."
Garcia was fuming now. "Why the hell couldn't Quinn radio Winters? Or you, for that matter?"
"I'm staking out the perimeter of the San Luis."
"Of the what?"
Garcia heard Gordon sigh loudly on his end. "The resort that's hosting the benefit for Biofuel research tonight."
"Right. What about Quinn?"
"Er..." Gordon hesitated.
"What?" Garcia was getting very fed up.
"He's getting ready with Miss Robyn."
"Who?" He blinked tiredly, ears not yet awake enough to listen properly.
"Doctor Robyn Bourke."
"You know what, forget it." Garcia threw up his hands in frustration. "I don't care if he's in bed with Miss America at this point! I'll get your damn update." He grumbled, switching quickly to a different channel.
"Winters."
"Yeah, Garcia?"
"The king wishes to know how his most loyal subjects are."
He heard raucous laughter on the other end for a while before he got a response. What was with these government guys? They were either comedians or didn't know a joke if it bit them in the ass.
"Seriously. I got woken up for this." He growled heavily into the speaker.
"Now hold your horses, Garcia." Came the more serious reply. "I haven't gotten any sleep either. Don't be a drama queen."
"I'm not. Just-just give me an update so I can get your damn dictator off my ass!" He bellowed.
"She hasn't gone anywhere. Ms. Ellis has been in her room the last five hours pampering." He emphasized the last word like it was an infectious disease.
"For the benefit?"
"No, for the presidential inauguration."
"Don't be a smart ass, Winters."
"Well...I'm tired damn it. For the ball, benefit, whatever you want to call it."
"Okay. I'll let Gordon know, so he can pass it along."
"I don't know what he wants me to tell you. The woman has put on three coats of mascara. She looks like a rabid raccoon. Also, you wouldn't believe how hairy her-"
"That's enough!" Garcia shouted, stomach heaving. "I don't need to hear about untrimmed female body parts."
"Don't like forests, Lieutenant?" More snickering.
"No, I like clean canvases, if you get my meaning."
"Hey, Garcia?"
"Yeah?" Came the hesitant reply.
"You shouldn't scratch your balls so much." Winters snickered through the radio static and Garcia cursed loudly.
"Screw you, buddy. Let me paint you a picture!"
"You wish. How many clean canvases can you find to do that?" Came the reply.
"You are so immature. I can't understand why Quinn chose you to lead surveillance."
The reply Garcia got back was "I can see you, Garcia. Keep your mouth open long enough and we can find something to stick in it," before he unceremoniously cut over to another channel.
What the hell, Winters...he thought, absentmindedly taking care of his itchy sack and yawning widely again. How did he know he fiddled with his balls? They were sweaty, for god's sake, in this damn humidity. Unless he was being watched, he didn't know how Winters would know that.
His eyes grew wide and he groaned inwardly. Shit. He glanced wildly around for the hidden camera, finally spotting a small dot in the left junction of the walls and ceiling.
He scowled and mouthed obscenities, shooting the camera the bird before yanking it from the wall.
He was sure Winters was laughing his ass off on the other end of the feed.