"Please, open your eyes."

The plead was soft, yet forceful. The woman in question was known for that, known for putting all her heart and soul into a task. It showed in the way she ran her company for six years before the shutdown. As the operations manager of Jurassic World, you had to be tough. You had to account for casualties and deaths. You had to have blood on your hands. But there in lies the problem; she didnt want his blood on her hands.

What had even led him to this point was interestingly enough. Working in a computer lab was pretty harmless, so why was he unconscious on a gurney now, being cut into by a makeshift surgeon? Only a week prior, the park had fallen into chaos. Because of one idiot – one singular idiot among the rest of them – the park's most lethal dinosaur had escaped it's enclosure. Beyond that, in an attempt to fix things, Claire released Rexy to fight this threat.

Lowery would do anything for Claire, he'd go to hell and back, he'd love her until the day she died, even if she never quite said the same to him. That's why, when she stood at the security camera and pleaded for help, he had no choice but to open the paddock and let her go. Assuming she had died, Lowery did not evacuate with the rest of the survivors. He stayed behind and did what any man in his position would do. He destroyed any evidence that Claire Dearing was involved in this mess as a shareholder.

Now, that wasn't to say that he wasn't a tough man. His father came from the Air Force, so he had minimal survival skills. He knew how to make a filter for water, scavenge food, and set up basic traps – which were no good against the dinosaurs in hindsight. But still, he soldiered on.

It was a strange coincidence that he had been standing on the top of an elevator shaft when he heard a familiar voice. The only way into the subterranean floor of the Visitor Center was via the elevator now, so what few survivors there were would often climb down the maintenance ladder on the side. He heard her calling to him, it was startling to hear a familiar voice in the middle of the chaos. She didn't say anything to him; she hadn't even recognized he was standing there yet. She was still moving along with a troop of people with guns, presumably hunting for survivors.

He let out a low whistle to get their attention when she turned. It was her. It was Claire; she had come back for him. He stared, shock washing over his features; wanting to run and hug her. It was in that moment he heard a low gurgling noise. Shit. In a hasty attempt to escape, he forgot where he was and fell backwards into the elevator shaft. Landing with a thud loud enough to sound like a bomb going off. Groaning in pain, he attempted feebly to stand before falling onto his back again.

The hands that gripped his face felt ice cold. He could hear Kate working idly beside him, humming some kind of song to keep herself calm while she tried to set bones and stitch lacerations. She was their first aid kid, for all intents and purposes; and she did a fantastic job of it. But he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was ushering him to wake. "Lowery James Cruthers, you are not allowed to propose to me and then die! No one asked you to stay behind, so you best be getting your ass up off that table and walking onto that boat with me!"

Claire? Right! She was there, but...he was so weak and tired. He felt helpless against her urging. Maybe a little sleep couldn't hurt; they'd been on edge since the evacuation...no! Wake up! Forcing his eyes to open, his dirty brown eyes stared at her oceanic blue hues for a long time. He was alive. She was alive. What were they waiting for? Then she leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips.