HI, everyone! Thanks so much to the people who followed this story and special thanks to those who reviewed! I'm so glad to see people were enjoying this story thus far. Please keep reviewing! I love any type of review-and am open to constructive criticism and any ways to improve.
I've been a fan of for years but never had the nerve to post any of my own stories. This is my first fanfic here so please be gentle lol And….. if you read this before, you'll notice that it started out with one chapter. I cannot figure out how to add a second chapter, so after days of trying, I had to delete the whole thing and start over. Aaaaand in order to make it only one chapter (since that's all I can figure out how to do lol) I had to actually finish the story. Which took a bit of time so I do apologize! It was originally set up to be in chapters but the italics will work for "memory" scenes.
A/N: I do not own any of the characters in the Jurassic Park/World series. I am also not a medical doctor so I don't really know how accurate certain scenes are.
Rated M for some sexual content.
CLAWEN!
Hope you love it!
Zia, Claire and Maisie huddled together in the doorway of the Lockwood Estate, waiting while Owen raced ahead to check for potential threats. Maisie, already attached, watched him go soberly, tears running down her face. Zia held Claire up as they watched Owen go, her heart thumping wildly. Claire knew all the dinosaurs had fled, but the doors were still open and they could potentially get back in. In this moment of rest and waiting, Claire held on to Zia, wanting more than ever to be going with Owen, to help protect Maisie, but she could suddenly barely stand. Claire tried to clear her swimming head, but it felt like that only made things worse. She blinked heavily.
"So, beefcake, eh?" Zia said, looking at Claire and hoping to get a smile. One glance and she noticed how pale Claire had become. Her usual milk white complexion had taken on a blue green tinge and her freckles stood out in adorable constellations that made her look younger than she was.
Zia glared into Claire's eyes, bright green in color still, but lacking the usual spark.
"Claire?" she demanded.
"Mmmm," Claire responded, her eyes shifting away from Zia.
"Look at me, Claire," Zia ordered and Claire lazily did.
"I don't feel so good," Claire whispered, hating to admit that even to herself.
"Let's sit down." Zia pulled Claire down and settled her leg, which she intended to look at.
Blood had seeped through Owen's handkerchief and the makeshift bandage she had made. It had worked for the time being, but the blood was drenching her jeans and she winced heavily as she as she sunk to the floor, Zia guiding her down.
Maisie stood stock still, watching, horrified.
"She's ok, sweetie. I promise," Zia said, taking Maisie's hand and squeezing it.
Maisie simply nodded and squeezed back. Claire leaned against the granite pillar and hoped the faint buzzing in her ears would stop.
From around the corner came Owen, his gun strapped against his back.
Owen's eyes went to Claire first. They always went to Claire first and seemed to always stay there. He thought she was beautiful even before their first date. He thought she was beautiful the first moment he saw her. She walked in to the offices at Jurassic World and he felt his stomach fill with an unnerving amount of butterflies and his heart did a weird flip flop in his chest and he couldn't deny it, as much as he tried. And he did try to deny it-hard. But every time they would run into each other at work, when there was a staff meeting, when Misrani would insist Owen check security of other animals, he couldn't help NOT noticing her in the room with him. It started to drive him nuts. He had asked her for a date, in which she responded with a yes, because despite her uncertainty about it, she couldn't deny it to herself- she was attracted to him. And then there was the disastrous date… And she had turned out to be so stuffy; organized to a fault and stubborn as hell. She had changed a lot since the fall of the park, where she lost her nephews in the valley and had to rely on Owen to help her find them. At first, the change was for the worst. PTSD was a terrible thing and it struck her hard. She needed Owen there, with her, by her side so badly it hurt sometimes. But they worked together and got through it and she was good, really good. Decidedly unstuffy. And beautiful as hell. Owen could forgive all of her imperfections when she looked at him with her green doe eyes, wide and clear.
He saw her now, unusually gray, her red hair shining like a fiery beacon that caught his attention so often.
Her hair looked even more red than usual because of her skin color. Pale, waxy.
He ran up to them; to her.
Maisie grabbed him in a hug and he felt her tiny heart beating against his stomach and he was suddenly filled with longing and sorrow for her. Zia stood up and sized him up, her first chance since he was shot with the tranquilizer dart. He knew what she was doing instantly and it didn't piss him off. It made him thankful Claire had her.
"She's lost a lot of blood," Zia said. Owen nodded.
"There's a huge medical room downstairs," he said.
"I don't think she can walk," Zia said, narrowing her eyes at him.
"If she can't, I'll carry her," he growled at her, eyes focused on Claire.
This seemed to pass Zia's test, because she nodded and knelt down. Maisie stepped back and Owen crouched down by Claire.
"Look at me, Claire," he said, and she did. Her eyes lit up when they met his, but only for a brief moment.
"We have to get you downstairs. There's a medical room," he said lightly to her. She nodded.
"Don't try…" he started to say as she tried to stand up. She groaned, making Maisie whimper.
"It's ok, sweetheart," Own said, over his shoulder.
"I can't," Claire admitted and Owen was shocked. She must really be in pain, he realized, because she never admitted defeat that easily.
"She can't," Zia said, eyes huge, holding on to Claire's arm as she sunk to the ground again.
Owen knelt down in front of Claire.
"I'm gonna pick you up, ok?" he asked.
"I can probably do it," Claire said through gritted teeth, the sudden intense pain in her leg from trying to put weight on it momentarily cleared her thoughts.
"No, no, don't try," Owen said, holding her shoulder.
"You don't have to-" she started.
"I know I don't have to," Owen said, cutting her off.
Zia glared at him, but Claire smiled, his familiar honesty soothing her.
"Ok, scoot your butt this way," he instructed and she gripped Zia's hand and he crouched down, reaching under her butt and thighs. He unintentionally gripped her leg as he lifted her up. And she screamed. The pain from keeping her leg straight and the pressure from his fingers brought tears to her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut. Zia held onto her hand, squeezing it as if to give her strength.
"I'm sorry, baby," Owen said, quickly standing up with her fully in his arms. She wrapped her arm around his neck and clung to him, crying."I am so sorry, Claire," he whispered again, and she met his eyes and could tell how sorry he really was.
"It's ok. I'm ok," she gritted her teeth and tried to stop the involuntarily tears of pain.
"I'll get us there fast," Owen said, motioning with his hand around her back for the other two girls. Quickly they walked down a white marble staircase and Owen realized her "bandage" wasn't doing anything-her blood was dripping through the fabric of her jeans and onto the white floor, leaving a trail. He hoped he hadn't made anything worse by lifting her. She leaned against him as he held her. He smelled like soap and sweat and ashes and Owen. She breathed him in, realizing again how much she really HAD missed him. She closed her eyes and felt Owen squeeze her back where he was holding her.
"Don't go closing your eyes like that. Look at me," he ordered.
"Don't be so bossy," she said, lifting her green eyes to his hazel ones.
"Please?" he asked, lightly rubbing the part of her back he was touching.
"It just…hurts," she said, quietly.
"We're gonna fix it," he said, shifting her in his arms.
Zia followed behind, holding Maisie's hand as the four of them sped along the marble hallway. They went through a series of doors before Owen pointed.
"This one," he said. They opened the door to a sterile looking metal room. Glass cabinets stacked the walls and metal beds and gurneys were placed sporadically around the room. Owen immediately went to a gurney and laid her down gently. He smoothed back her long hair and tucked it behind her ear.
"Okay?" he asked.
But she wasn't. Being out of his arms brought on sudden cold. The gurney was freezing cold metal and leaning back cramped her back and neck.
She shook her head, no.
"What?" he asked, eyes boring into hers.
And then she fainted.
Owen watched her faint. And he realized after, he should have seen it coming. Blood was pooling around her on the gurney and her face was so pale.
How still she was, he realized as he leaned over her, swallowing hard. He took her face in his hands, gently.
"Claire?" he called, forcing her to look up at him. Her hair was a mess and she smelled like war. Like blood and ash and sweat and still, somehow, vanilla. She always smelled so good. He leaned down to her, pressing his lips to her forehead.
"Claire," he mouthed against her clammy skin.
Zia, who was in another room with Maisie, ran back in, their arms loaded with bandages, antiseptics, painkillers and other medicines and supplies.
"We have to help her," Owen said, her face still in his hands.
"CLAIRE!" he yelled. He caught eyes with Zia, his betraying his usual strong exterior. He was scared.
Maisie dropped her armload of packaged bandages and a bottle of alcohol and started crying. Zia ran over, brushing past Maisie.
"She's lost a lot of blood," Zia observed.
"I know," Owen held up his arm. Her blood was smeared all over his hand, front and back. It dripped down his arm as he held it up to her, almost for proof.
Zia's eyes widened.
"It's deep," Owen said. "I watched her sink her claw in."
Claire murmured and Owen was crouching down by her, instantly.
"Claire?" he called.
She opened her eyes and focused on him.
"Owen," she almost whispered. "You came back."
He knew what she meant and it hit him all of a sudden-she had lied at the bar, a few days prior. She lied when she said SHE left HIM. They joy he should have felt was only replaced with fear. She was so out of it.
"I did," he said. "Of course I came back."
Zia stood over Claire and Owen, forcing Owen to look up at her.
"Can you sew a wound?" he asked.
"I've never done it on a person, but yes, I can close it. I'm sure," she added.
As soon as they lifted the bandana, Claire fainted again.
"She hasn't eaten in at least a day. Doubt she's had much water either. We'll need to get her some soon. And something for the pain...there was a box in a cabinet I smashed, it had morphine and syringes. I couldn't find anything to numb it though, so you're going to have to hold her still."
"Just hurry," he pleaded.
"We need to get her pants off. Or cut them off," Zia instructed. Owen had Claire's foot in his hand in an instant, unzipping her boot. He got them both off and dropped them to the floor. He reached up to the button and zipper on her pants. Fumbling, his hands shaking, he undid them and looked up at her. He was flooded with memories and he had to swallow hard to try and clear his mind.
"Owen," Claire moaned softly, and he looked up at her from his position on his bed. He was kissing her bare stomach, down low by the button on her jeans. Her coral camisole was pushed up and over her pale pink lace La Perla bra and she had propped herself up on her elbows, flushed and smiling, looking down at him. His fingers went to the waist of her jeans, working the button with his fingers as Claire laced her fingers through his hair. He tugged the jeans gently, and she lifted her hips to help him get them down. He tossed them impatiently over his shoulder as he gazed down at her. She laughed at his impatience and he was flooded with a sudden heat that surprised him because he thought he certainly couldn't get any warmer. She was lying nearly naked underneath him and every inch of him was on fire. But hearing her laugh somehow made everything hotter.
"Kiss me," Claire demanded and he was up by her lips, instantly.
He kissed her, deep and hard, their teeth momentarily crashing into each other from the force.
"Take this off," Owen gasped, breaking apart from her and tugging at her camisole. She obliged and lifted it over her head. It got lost somewhere in the mess of sheets and blankets on the bed behind her. Owen reached down to her breast, his mouth on her taught nipple, his hand on the other. She bit her lip, hard, as he rolled her nipple around under his tongue. He leaned up to kiss her again, one hand reaching down to her pink lace panties, feeling the heat radiating off of her. She moaned into his open mouth. He captured her lips with his once again and felt her tongue dance into his mouth, rubbing his, kissing him deeply, her chest pressed against his, her fingers grazing the button on his pants.
"You have way too many clothes on, Grady," Claire said, succeeding in opening the clasp on his pants and beginning to pull. He managed to pull his pants down while still kissing her. She broke apart from him to push his Henley up over his belly and chest and he tugged it the rest of the way off. She leaned into him, kissing his sternum and rolling his nipples in her fingers. He gasped into her hair, the sensations making him harder than he already was. In a flurry, he was undoing her bra as she tugged the waist of her panties over her hips then shook them off as she grabbed for the waistband of his underwear. They were soon discarded in a puddle around Owens feet as he gently lowered her to the bed. He pulled her into his lap and she straddled him. She rocked her hips over him and he sucked in his breath and gritted his teeth, thrusting up slightly to the heat of her. He pressed his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes as he entered her. She cried out, softly, at the sensation and he paused while deep inside her, relishing the feel of her and letting her get accustomed to him. She slowly began rocking her hips and he bit his lip, hard. She closed her eyes but he couldn't take his off of her.
After a while, he flipped her over and set his own pace, knowing the way she liked it. He pulled her leg up to her chest as he thrust deep inside her. She wrapped her other leg around his back.
"Owen," she cried, reaching her limit.
He let her come first, and felt himself release inside of her.
"Claire," he moaned, into her hair, her legs still wrapped around him.
"Claire?" Owen called as soon as her pants were in a ragged heap on the floor underneath the gurney. Maisie had grabbed a blanket and held it out, which they placed over the upper part of Claire. She had started shivering. Claire's eyes fluttered, and with precision, Zia measured out morphine and found a vein in Claire's hand that was the easiest to get to. Claire was almost instantly delirious, but she didn't seem to be in excruciating pain anymore. Owen held her leg still and Maisie blocked everything by having her back turned to Zia's sewing skills while she faced Claire, talking to her and trying to keep her awake. Zia made quick work of the wound, but was concerned about the muscle underneath. It was damaged and might require surgery, but Claire didn't seem concerned.
"I'll live," Claire said, watching Owen close his eyes briefly and tightly at the words. Maisie ran to a nearby sink and grabbed a paper cup of water for Claire which she accepted gratefully. "Thanks, sweetie," Claire murmured. She gulped the water down quickly, her still shaking hands spilling some onto the hospital blanket covering her. As Maisie ran to refill the cup, Claire absently stroked the blanket where it had gotten wet, her mind slipping and falling into memory.
Claire reached out and took the glass of water Owen held out to her. Her hand shook so badly the water sloshed over the rim of the glass and splattered onto the couch. She steadied the glass and popped the Xanax into her mouth, almost choking on it. She brought the water to her mouth and gulped it down, washing away the bitter taste of the pill that she didn't even notice because she was in the midst of panicking. It was late, almost 4 am, and she and Owen were awake. Both had trouble sleeping for months after what had happened at the park. They fell into a routine of little sleep; often both would wake around 3 or 4 am where they'd get up, turn on the TV, and then hopefully eventually fall asleep together on the couch. They were cuddled together on the couch, watching some old rerun and suddenly an old advertisement commercial for the park flashed onto the screen. A child pointed at the huge 3D image of a stegosaurus in the Welcome Center and then flashed to that same child in the field, standing right up by a living stegosaurus, turning to the camera and smiling. A gyrosphere was in the valley; the monorail sped by, an adult couple enjoyed drinks under an umbrella. Dinosaurs flew and hopped and stomped by.
Claire froze against Owen, who, in his own sense of panic, had already reached for the remote. He smoothly changed the channel but Claire suddenly and completely couldn't breathe.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, Claire thought before everything became a tangle and she was leaning against Owen by the old Jeep and she could hear the Indominous right by them. She could hear her, smell her and feel her. Right. Fucking. There. She couldn't move, couldn't swallow, couldn't even breathe. The terror of it hit her hard again, and then she heard Owen.
"Hey, hey, hey…you're ok," he reassured her, his voice coming from the fog. "I'm here. Look at me. I'm right here." She couldn't turn to look at him, so he shifted her weight and settled her between his legs as he sat up. He forced his face to hers. Her mouth hung suspended in a startled O and her eyes locked on his.
"Hey," he said, making her focus. "Hey, baby," he said, leaning down to keep her eyes on his.
She took a deep, wavering breath in and let it out raggedly. Owen put his hand on her chest, right above her heart, and began to breathe with her. From practice, she began to steady her breathing to his. Once she was breathing steadily and her heart rate had slowed, Owen jumped up and grabbed her bottle of anxiety medicine from her purse. He got a cold glass of water and brought them to her, watching as she dribbled some over the edge because she was still shaking.
Once Zia had cleaned and bandaged the wound, they had no choice but to gather some of Maisie's things and leave. Claire offered to go with the little girl but Zia forced her to stay.
Claire huffed, but Zia laughed instead of getting indignant.
"You actually don't have on any pants, so…I think I'll take this one," Zia countered.
Owen laughed and Claire glared at him.
"She's got a point," Owen said, smiling.
"Ok, ok," Claire murmured, the morphine running through her making it hard to think straight or fight back.
"We'll find something for you to put on," Zia said, patting Claire's hand lovingly and then taking Maisie's.
"Don't leave without me," Maisie whimpered, still holding Zia's hand, but reaching for Owen.
"I promise you, we will not go without you," Owen said, grabbing her pinky finger with his. He locked them together and she smiled. She nodded and was led away by Zia, who asked her where her room was.
Owen worried the little girl might panic seeing her room again after the fight between the dinosaurs that she had witnessed from her bed. But then he remembered following her as she scaled the side of the towering estate and he knew she'd come out of this okay. He watched them go, and felt Claire take his hand.
"What do we do now?" she asked.
He smiled wryly, remembering the last time they faced each other, sweat and blood soaked, battered and torn and she had asked the same thing.
"What do we do now?" he repeated, trailing off, seemingly confused by the question.
"With Maisie? We can't leave her."
"We take her home," Owen said.
"Yes, but," Claire gazed up at him, eyes wide and clear, "…where is home?" she asked.
He paused, leaning down to kiss her sweaty and ashy forehead. "Anywhere we are," he told her.
"I love you," she blurted out.
'I love you' had come surprisingly quickly after what happened at the park. Claire told Lowery she loved him, she told Vivian she loved her, she told her sister and her nephews, over and over again, how much she loved them. She was more hesitant to say it to Owen, though. Even though her exterior was calm and calculated, she really felt very shy with him right after the park was destroyed. And she was destroyed with it. Before the PTSD really claimed her and she needed him by her side every moment, she was unsure how to act around him.
He kissed ME, she kept reminding herself.
She had had bad luck with men; she could openly and sarcastically admit this, although she never felt remorse over it. She was more focused on work, on making something of herself. She made absolute sure that she didn't get to where she was by sleeping with male coworkers.
The words slipped out the night after the park fell to ruin. Right after, all they could do was eat something, shower, and fall into bed. All of which they did together. The next full day was chaotic, full of police and news crews and interviews and looking back that night, she had realized, the only thing that had kept her grounded and at ease was Owen. They were about to fall asleep together and he had curled into her and she could feel his heartbeat against her back, felt him pull her close, his breath in her hair. And she just said it. Because she had been feeling it and PTSD was creeping in, darkening corners and attacking her in weak moments. She had to say it. She had to tell him.
He paused for a moment and she closed her eyes. In that moment, he had closed his eyes too, remembering hiding with her in the trees, hiding from the Indominous Rex, her hands trailing over his arms, searching for something to hold on to, for the bottom had dropped out of her world. Her eyes were huge, green pools boring into his. He had never seen someone, anyone, so scared in all his life. And he could only lock his eyes on hers and nod slightly, for fear of the dinosaur hearing. The look in her eyes haunted him, as did his unwavering resolve to destroy anyone or anything that ever made her so scared, ever again.
"I love you, too," he said, into her hair.
"I love you, too,' he said, automatically, without even having to think. Because he truly did. And he knew she loved him too.
And, after losing her grandfather so painfully, that was the one really big thing Maisie needed right now.
"So I'll drive the van on the way out then?" she asked, playfully. He burst out laughing.
"I really do love you," he said, leaning down to kiss her.