I searched a long time to find a song that fit Owen in the way that "River" and "Sweet Architect" fit Claire's internal conflict. I tried to force a few to match all the notes I made in the wake of Fallen Kingdom and The Evolution of Claire. In the end, I settled on putting out the story I wanted to tell, with hints to the songs I considered. Thanks, in advance, for reading.
It had been five days since the world-altering auction at Lockwood Manor. Five days of Claire laser-focusing on Maisie and mobilizing the DPG with a slight alteration to its mission statement. Five days of Claire avoiding being alone with Owen. She didn't let him get close enough to kiss her - though he wanted to, almost unceasingly. Maisie, Zia, Franklin or all three we're constantly cock-blocking him. Unfortunately, it wasn't just a physical distance. They didn't talk about their relationship. Owen didn't know if he and Claire were back together or if she just wanted to co-parent Maisie with him. He'd seen Claire in this mode before. All business and doggedly clinging to a sense of control amidst chaotic circumstances. After five days on the couch in her apartment - with Maisie in the spare bedroom - Owen was ready to go back to building his cabin.
It was Zia who finally picked up on Owen's nonverbals. They had all needed to process their shared traumatic experience, but there were things Claire and Owen needed to address that were unique to the two of them. Zia offered to introduce Maisie to the concept of a sleepover so Claire and Owen could "do laundry." Owen knew what the doctor was getting at. Claire wouldn't acknowledge it aloud, but he could tell from her clenched jaw and fake smile that she knew, too. The one thing Claire Dearing hated the most was being told what to do. There was an implicit insinuation that she was wrong or, at the very least, didn't know best. By nature and nurture, she struggled to admit to weakness. Simon Masrani helped create a monster long before the Indominus. In her eleven years of being in his employ, Claire rose to the challenge of becoming the smartest person in the room. She was right all the time, and everyone else existed to validate her opinion. It burned Owen to admit that she was right a lot of the time.
But, when Claire was wrong - boy - she was really wrong. Her, possibly willful, blind faith in the promises of Eli Mills had unmasked her naïveté once again. Owen knew that a lot of her post-Lockwood behaviors were her over-compensating for that mistake. A mistake that was, in part, motivated by her desire to prove Owen wrong. He had been vocal about his distaste for her precious DPG. They'd argued about it countless times before and after its inception. He saw guilt as her predominant driving force and altruism a distant second. He also generally viewed it as a fool's errand. Claire had no concrete plans or an influential backer. She had no idea where the dinosaurs would go. He pointed out that the dinosaurs weren't truly endangered species because more could be made. Claire didn't want to hear any criticisms. She'd endured her share of that from others.
In the fallout of the Indominus incident, she'd been disgraced and discredited. Personally attacked by the media and the public for months. Painted as a Masrani lackey who "drank the Kool-Aid." There was little room to argue. Claire dropped out of college to work at the park - to become the boss - and had never looked back. Under the intense scrutiny and feeling lost without her home for the last decade, Owen offered her a chance to get away. They both enjoyed their nomadic lifestyle. For nearly two years, they had escaped. The press wasn't hounding her. They didn't have to endure the sideways glances of executives, VIPs, hotel staff or random people on the street. It was just them, the van, and the open road. Claire let him take care of her and comfort her. She needed it, and it was enough for him to feel needed. Unfortunately for Owen, it wasn't enough for her.
Claire was desperate to recapture her idealistic youth. Before Mt. Sibo awoke, she spoke of finally going to law school and becoming a politician to effect real change in the world at-large. Owen supported her educational pursuits and her reconnection with her past. That is, until Sibo became all she wanted to talk about. He knew she was seeking redemption with that damned DPG, but it was an absolution that would never come. She hadn't escaped Jurassic World's "velvet handcuffs," after all. She even tried to drag Owen into her guilt by crediting him for rekindling her adolescent love of animals. He may have pulled away from the past too much, but hindsight is 20/20. He was already cynical and world-weary from his Navy days. His experiences on Nublar had only served to reinforce his perspective.
Standing next to her as she poured the liquid detergent into the washing machine, he didn't understand why she was still keeping her guard up around him. She'd kissed HIM at the manor. Had it just been a manipulation to get him to go after Maisie? After showing up on his property, it was the only hint she'd given him to her feelings - consciously, at least. He wasn't sure if his waking up with her hand in his shirt really counted. Although it profoundly warmed his soul in the moment, she pulled away quickly as if it was an embarrassing mistake. Her reaction tainted the moment just as her physical and emotional distance over the last five days made him question her intentions behind the kiss.
Owen tired of making excuses for her behavior. That was his downfall. Why he could never let her go. Claire always had a reason for what she did. Her reasons were backed with passion, verve, and gumption. He loved that about her, even when it broke his heart. Now, he had his chance to "rip off the bandaid." They needed to have it out before they got too far down a path he ultimately didn't like. No use getting his hopes up only to have them crushed. Life's too short, and there was more uncertainty than ever. He needed something concrete from her and as soon as possible.
"What are we doing, Claire?" He tightly controlled the slight tremor in his voice.
"The laundry," she deadpanned. She tried to conceal her own uneasiness by avoiding his eyes.
"You know what I mean."
"We're living a new reality, on a small and large scale." She sounded detached and robotic.
"Cut the shit. I'm not one of your employees." This struck a nerve. He'd probably said it at least once before during a not-so-long-ago fight.
"What are you then?" she almost sneered.
"That's what I want to know." He dramatically crossed his arms over his chest. Surprisingly, she didn't rise to the challenge. Her eyes betrayed her exhaustion.
"It's not about us anymore." She placed the bottle of detergent on a shelf, turned to walk away from him, and added, "We have to consider Maisie."
"So," he said mockingly, "do you want to work out a shared custody kind of thing? Every two weeks she's with one or the other?"
"If that's what you want." Her tone was one of defeat, but at least she stood rooted to the floor.
"You know that's not what I want." Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides. She finally turned around with fury in her eyes.
"Really?" She sounded more overtly sarcastic than he'd ever heard before. "Then, why didn't you ever come back? Why did you just drive off without a word?"
"There were words enough before I left." She'd said most of them, called them incompatible. Accused him of being callous and unambitious. His words seemingly fell on deaf ears while those same words from her would've made him stay.
"I wanted more than words," replied Claire, her voice as cold as ice with an expression to match. This was not their first rodeo. They seemed doomed to repeat themselves, always returning to the same place. Arguing over whose fault it was.
Owen fumed silently for several beats before blurting out, "I wanted you to chase after me." Her face remained stony. "Like you did for the boys." That brought a crack to her exterior. She blinked rapidly. Her mouth opened slightly then closed without a sound. "I wanted to feel worth it to you...to come after me."
"Well, I did...eventually." She hid her eyes from him once more.
"Jesus, Claire." He was exasperated. This was too much. Third time's not necessarily a charm. "I'm not doing this again." Her eyebrows went up as high as humanly possible when she returned his gaze.
"We have Maisie now. She needs us both."
"We shouldn't stick together for HER survival." She stilled at his bitter turn on never forgotten words. "I don't want you to find someone you really want to be with and turn him away because of misguided loyalty to me." She rolled her eyes at this.
"Cut the noble, chivalrous bullshit. If I was interested in finding someone else after I told you to leave, I would've looked. I never did, Owen."
"And why is that?" He was angrier than he meant to be, but he was too old for games. She crushed her fingers into her temples and groaned audibly. Terror gripped him. He meant to bait her, not push her further away. Then, she took a deep breath and raised her determined chin.
"Because I love you...you...stubborn, cocky bastard!" She looked enraged, upset that she had to reveal her feelings under duress. Owen was elated and wanted to laugh at her own stubbornness. He subdued his mirth out of fear of her taking a swipe at him. Instead, he let her rant and rave. "Is it really not obvious? After all this time? After everything we've been through? Are you that much of an idiot? Did I really have to spell it out for you?"
Placing his hands on her shoulders, Owen answered softly, "Yes, in fact, you did. It wasn't obvious to me."
"I show affection," grumbled Claire. His face scrunched in apparent disagreement, and she let out an annoyed sigh. "In my own way," she added under her breath. A wave of euphoria washed over him. He didn't even care that she called him a bastard in the same sentence. He'd waited so long to hear those three little words. They were music to his ears, regardless. Music that was swiftly drowned out by the freight train of desire suddenly roaring through his ears.
His arms snaked around her and pressed her body flush against his. She relinquished control and didn't fight him. Everything was finally on the table. He imagined she must've felt relieved. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she clasped her fingers about his neck. When his mouth closed on hers, he kissed her as if it were the very first time, tenderly tasting her lips. Reveling in their softness and warmth. Delightful shivers of anticipation traveled up and down his spine. For a moment, he forgot what to do. He was too busy savoring each wonderful sensation. He didn't even want to take a breath. The moment passed when he felt her response. Her own hunger. He exerted more pressure upon her mouth, gently forcing it open. His tongue delved into that sweet cavern to dance with hers until they were stroking each other with sensuous abandon. Their passions flamed simultaneously as he tore his mouth away from hers and began kissing her closed eyes, her cheekbones, the corners of her mouth, the elegant tip of her nose - all with ravenous ardor - while she moved her hands to pull frantically at his shirt and unbutton his jeans.
Owen emitted a low chuckle as he took over lowering both of their pants. Then, he perched her atop the washing machine. Claire hissed when her bare bottom touched the cold metal. His lips were quickly back on hers, and he was devouring her with his mouth and hands. She was devouring him right back.
"Forgive me," he whispered harshly. "This first time...won't be nice and easy."
"I don't want it nice and easy," she answered huskily.
"Good. I need to be inside you." She eagerly reached for him to guide him home. With a low cry of pleasure, he plunged deep into her willing warmth. She gasped at the ferocious contact. He hooked one of her legs over his arm to wrap around his waist and kissed her again, swallowing her moans as their bodies slammed together with every thrust. Their kiss was seemingly endless, deepening and easing again and again as his strong hips plowed into her. His big hands lifted her own hips, to bury himself deeper and possess her further. Claire urged him onward with soft little mewls that were obvious in their delight. She took his breath away. It was the opposite of nice and easy. It was raw and primal. He was out of control, and she loved it. She gave herself over to him in a way that felt new and more poignant than any time before. All it took was a few more thrusts of his commanding body surging into hers, and he could tell that she was breaking apart. The timbre of her delicious tensing becoming frenetic. He knew he wouldn't last long either. With a final forceful pump, he called out her name and felt them shuddering powerfully together.
He collapsed against her when he was done. Her limbs were lax but still enveloping him. He couldn't believe that she let him lay claim to her like that. Drained and half-conscious in a state of post-coital bliss, the world that seemed tilted on its axis only a week ago felt righted. He was still inside her and didn't want to give up that intimacy. It was all that mattered. Everything had been stripped down to its pure, simplistic skeleton. After a few heavy breaths, he regained strength enough to pull back and look into her eyes. Those familiar pools of green mirrored his own contented feelings.
"Take me to bed, Owen." Her voice was hoarse and filled with longing. She wanted more, and he was happy to oblige her.
After a few rounds of slower, gentler love-making - giving more completely of themselves than they had in the past - they laid in silence, catching their breath and collecting their thoughts. Claire's head fitted itself into the hollow of Owen's shoulder, and her hand rested over his heart. He relaxed in a way that had eluded him for nearly a year. His bones seemed to dissolve under his skin. She, on the other hand, remained a bit tense. Her voice quavered faintly when she finally spoke, "I'm scared, Owen. I don't know what's going to happen next." With that revelation, he knew it would be different this time. He needed to respond in kind.
"I am here," he stated with tenderness. "I'm not leaving, even if you tell me to." He knew Claire couldn't promise it wouldn't reach that point again. Her nature was to run, as was his. In truth, however, neither of them had actually left the other. It's why things fell into a natural rhythm on Nublar and during the battle at the manor.
"I love you," she spoke so quietly he could barely hear it.
"I love you, too." He felt her melting into him. Her pulse slowing. Everything that was within his power to correct had been done for now. After all the stops and starts, she was back where she belonged: literally and figuratively imprinted on his heart. He resolved to do whatever it took to stick together this go-round. He easily fell into a deep sleep, knowing without a doubt that their love would be an unbreakable bond. A bond forged by the fires of experience, pain, and passion.
Please let me know what you think of my take on their "breakdown-breakthrough" and if you spotted my song references :)