So I came up with this idea. I'm mixed on my execution of it but figured I might as well share it anyway. Critique away! :) I've started writing my bigger piece (over 13k already!) and as soon as I feel like I'm definitely on the right track and don't need to keep fixing the beginning to keep it coherent, I'll start posting.
Also, Maisie is just... absent in this one. You can decide if she's staying with them or not. Doesn't affect the story.
The water was lapping at her knees but the seat-belt remained stuck. She pulled at it again and again. Fighting desperately against the clasp that didn't want to give. The water continued to creep higher and higher. She could hear Franklin panicking beside her, his voice rising along with the water. She tugged again on the clasp but it remained stuck.
"Owen!" Franklin's exclamation finally distracted her from her task, albeit briefly. She followed his gaze and saw Owen beside the door, looking in on her. The panic she could feel in her own eyes was reflected in his. He lay his hand against the glass and she briefly reached out her own.
"We're going to die!" Franklin's next screech interrupted the moment, and she was brought back to her struggle with her seat-belt. She gave up on the clasp, instead trying to pull at the belt itself, wondering if she couldn't wiggle herself loose.
The water was now halfway up her chest.
"God dammit!" Claire shouted, as the clasp refused to budge. She went back to pulling on the straps, but for every pull she made, they seemed to be getting tighter, not looser.
The water had reached her chin.
Claire twisted on the bed, hands pulling and pushing at Owen's arms that were wrapped around her holding her tight against his chest. He gave a little half-snore, before his grip tightened on her more. Becoming more frantic, she started clawing at his hands. The words "It didn't happen like this" escaping with a cry. She started thrashing, desperate to be free. "Let go," came out in a gasp.
The grip on her didn't loosen. She was responding full bodily now, hands clawing, torso twisting, legs kicking. A particularly lucky move had her foot connecting with Owen's bad knee, and he let out a yelp, grip instantly loosening.
Finally free, Claire's eyes burst open, and she woke up. Before she could even think, she had scrambled halfway across the bed, curling up against the headboard, palms pressed against her eyes as her chest continue to heave, desperate for the air her brain still expected to be water.
"Claire?" Owen was still mostly asleep, one hand reaching down to rub at his knee, the other reaching for her. When he didn't find her, his eyes opened and he took in her shivering figure, barely visible in the dark room. "Claire? What happened? Are you okay?" He sat up in bed, moving towards her and resting his hand on her knee.
Her reaction was instantaneous, her whole body jerking away from him, curling tighter into a ball. He pulled his hand back, as if burned.
"Claire?" he asked more tentatively this time.
"Just..." Claire gasped out, as she managed to free a hand, holding it up in warning. "Give me a minute," she eventually completed, deep gasps between each word.
Owen pulled himself up, resting against the headboard, close enough he could reach out to touch her, but not close enough to be invading her space. He rested his hands on his knees, trying to keep from reaching across the bed. Claire's shoulder were still heaving, and he could hear the effort it was taking her to get herself under control.
It took a while, but Claire finally felt like she was getting ahold of her emotions. She could finally take a deep breath and she no longer felt about to pass out. She managed to sit up a bit straighter, one hand wiping away the tears that were still staining her cheeks, her other arm wrapped tightly around herself.
"I'm sorry," she finally whispered. "It was so real."
"Sorry?" Owen was confused.
"I kicked you. Your knee."
"Oh," Owen shrugged. "No harm done." He gave her a searching look, before asking "Nightmare?"
"Gyrosphere," Claire nodded shakily. "I couldn't get the seatbelt undone. I kept pulling and pulling and no matter what..." she trailed off as her voice started to rise along with the feeling of panic in her chest. "I couldn't... I was going to..."
Owen risked reaching out again, letting a hand fall onto her knee. "You're okay. That didn't happen." He wanted to move closer, to gather her into his arms, but he wasn't sure how she'd respond.
"Because of you," she gave him a watery smile, resting her own hand on top of his.
They sat there for a few minutes in silence, before Owen couldn't take it anymore and he scooted closer, moving his hand from her knee and instead, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. With his arm around her, he could feel the shudders that were still running through her, her body still high on adrenaline. When he squeezed his arm a bit tighter, she almost bolted away, her body going rigid.
"What did I do?" Owen asked, arm dropping away from her. "What happened?'
"My dream," Claire scrubbed at her face, trying to banish the inner images still haunting her. "I kept fighting to get loose. But every time I pulled on the seatbelt, it got tighter." She couldn't help it and she looked down at his arms, Owen's eyes tracing the path of her gaze.
He made the connection instantly, and he swallowed deeply, feeling the bile rising in his throat. He pulled his arm away from her, resting his hands back on his knees. "Oh."
"I'm sorry," Claire leaned back against him, her own arms wrapped around herself.
"Me too," Owen nodded, resting his head against hers.
Almost 10 days passed before Claire realized that something had changed. And it took her a couple more days to actually put her finger on what the change was.
The previous evening Owen had commented how excited he was to finally have a morning he could sleep in. Dealing with the fallout this time around, while very different than last time, was just as time consuming. It had resulted in a lot of long days and no where near enough time for sleep. Add in all the uncertainty around their lives combined with a fresh round of nightmares, and the sleep they did manage to get was not very restful.
They were all running on fumes, and so to finally have a morning where they had no where to be, no one to see, and nothing specific to do? It was what dreams were made of, and hopefully, would be what their dreams would allow.
But that morning, like clockwork, Claire found herself wide awake at 6:30 am. She'd joked before that she didn't need an alarm clock, her body to set in its way and happy to wake on its own. She was lying on her back, wondering what it was that felt off that morning. Sure, she'd rather be asleep, but that wasn't it.
Turning on her side, she looked across the bed at Owen, before her eyebrows shot up in surprise. That was what was off. She and Owen had shared a bed for years and she had woken countless times before him during that time. But, this was the first time she had ever woken up to find him with his back to her, practically falling off the edge of the bed with how far he was away from her. Normally, if he didn't have an arm wrapped around her, he'd at least have a hand resting somewhere, on her arm, shoulder, leg — some form of physical contact.
Curled on her side, watching him curiously now, she started thinking over the last few days and realized that this was also the first time she'd actually woke before him this past week. Instead, when she would wake up he would already be out of the bed and in the kitchen making coffee or in the bathroom in the shower. She hadn't thought anything of this at the time, because they'd been so busy. There was no time to contemplate anything but what they had to do next.
Lying there now, though, her mind started to analyze. When had this started? Why had this started? Should she talk to him? Did she even want to know?
She remembered waking up from her nightmare and that he'd been wrapped around her that night. But, now that she was thinking about it, she wasn't sure if they had even made physical contact since then. Owen wasn't overly touchy-feely. In fact, he was not usually the first one to reach out. Except at night. For some reason, in the safety and security of their bed, Owen would never hesitate.
What had happened?
It had been a few weeks since the incident in Northern California. Enough time had now passed for all the adrenaline of the event to wear off. Instead, the days of endless meetings, news reports, lawyers and more, had just left them exhausted. While she and Owen had naturally gravitated back towards each other in the fallout, they hadn't had a moment to discuss anything personal. By the time they'd fall into bed at the end of another long day, there was barely a moment to whisper goodnight before they were out.
Wait. Could it be?
What if... What if, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Now that they were finally getting time to think again. Now that their lives were no longer on the line... What if he was regretting staying? After all, he had argued that he had left her.
Sure, he'd gone to Isla Nublar, but that was only after she dangled Blue, knowing his favourite raptor would be hard to resist. They'd had numerous conversations over the years, late at night, often by a campfire or while lying in bed on the edge of sleep, where he'd tell her stories about the raptors. And inevitably, he'd wonder if Blue was even still alive.
Even on the islandhe had just joked that if anything happened to him it was her fault, that she made him go. And boy, did things happen. Even later, when they were being held in the cage, his words of it not being her fault, were really not reassuring.
Without realizing it, her hand started snaking across the bed, reaching for his shoulder, ready to nudge him awake. Her thoughts flowing wildly now, she wanted answers. She wanted to see him roll his eyes and tell her she was overthinking it all. But she caught herself before she made contact, pausing briefly, before pulling back. He'd been really looking forward to sleeping in.
Besides, if it was true, did she really want to know?
Another week went by before they talked. Claire had spent the entire week going back and forth over whether she was going to say something or not. She found herself deeply analyzing every interaction she had with him now. Had he shifted because he didn't want to make contact with her? Or because he was trying to give her enough space to get by? Was it really a meeting that came up or did he not want to be home?
She didn't actually know if anything had changed when they slept. Sure, they weren't touching when they fell asleep, but he was back to being up and getting ready before she woke.
She would've continued with her own self analysis for longer, except that day Zia had approached her as she'd hovered in a doorway, eyes watching Owen critically, trying to put together what felt like a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle to which she only had a handful of random pieces.
"Whatcha doing?" Zia had asked, coming to stand next to her, peering out in the same direction, trying to figure out what had captured Claire's attention so fully.
"Wha—?" Claire startled, gaze moving to Zia.
"What are you looking at?" Zia's gaze flickered over the room in front of them, nothing seeming out of the ordinary. "You've been standing here looking really deep in thought for almost 10 minutes now. What's up?"
"Nothing," Claire shook her head, trying to clear her head. "Just lost in thought. What's next?"
She'd managed to distract Zia as they moved onto their next task. But she knew she had to say something. It was now affecting her work, and her mind wasn't going to let her drop it anytime soon.
So that evening, as they were getting ready for bed, she finally approached the topic. "Hey Owen, can I ask you something?" she blurted out, startling him as he was turning down the covers on his side of the bed.
"You're asking?" he quirked an eyebrow. When she didn't say anything, he nodded. "Always."
"Do you... Are you..." Claire struggled to get the sentence out. Her mind changing on the tactic she wanted to take every time she started. She steeled herself, standing taller on her side of the bed, and forced the words out. "Do you even want to be here?"
"Here?" Owen looked around the room before his eyes met hers. "Like in this room? Or is this something more philosophical?"
"With me," Claire tried to clarify, but by the crease on his forehead, as he mulled over her words, she could tell it hadn't helped. "I can't tell if you're here because of what happened and you need a place to stay or if..."
At that, Owen looked genuinely surprised. "Or if—? What?"
"If you actually want to be here. With me." Claire looked away, turning to fiddle with the alarm clock beside her bed so she wouldn't have to meet his gaze. There's a pause as silence settled over the room. She can practically hear her heart beating, the thuds feeling painful in her chest.
"Are you serious?" Owen finally asked after a few minutes had gone by. And its Claire's turn to be startled, her eyes jumping to his. She can't look away and he's staring at her intently, as if he was trying to figure something out. Apparently, he did, because he nodded firmly, before saying, "Okay, wow, you are."
She felt embarrassed and could feel the accompanying warmth of the flush rising up her face. "Never mind, forget it." She tried to dismiss it, pulling the sheets back on the bed and climbing in. She quickly pulls them back up, turning on her side, back to Owen.
"No, wait," Owen said. "I'm sorry. I'm just surprised."
Claire didn't say anything. She just kept her back turned to him.
"Claire," she could feel the mattress shift as he climbed in next to her. "Will you please look at me?" Owen pleaded. It was accompanied by a hand on her shoulder, gently tugging. "C'mon Claire."
She resisted for a moment, before turning so she was laying on her back. She didn't look at him, instead focusing her gaze on the ceiling. But she could see him out of the corner of her eye, sitting on the bed beside her, concern furrowing his brow. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Sorry? Claire..." Owen looked pained for a moment, scrubbing his hands down his face. "I'm not a mindreader, can you help me out here. I feel like I'm in the middle of a conversation and I don't know where we started."
Claire huffed before pushing the covers back and sitting up. She mirrored his actions, rubbing a hand down her face, before forcing her gaze to his. "I can't tell why you're still here. I can't tell if you want to be here. I just... I don't want you to feel like you have to stay. You know, just because or something."
"Do you not want me to stay?" Owen asked carefully.
"It's not about what I want," Claire scowled. "What do you want?"
"Why do you think I don't want to be here?" Owen ignored the question, continuing to push.
"You haven't..." Claire was even more embarrassed now. The flush that had started to go away was rising steadily again. "Normally you..."
"I what?"
"Every morning, you're awake before I am. And if that wasn't weird enough, on Sunday, the one day I managed to wake before you, you were sleeping so far over on the bed, I thought you were going to fall off."
"This is about how I sleep?" Owen arched an eyebrow.
"Never mind," Claire repeated, turning away from him, looking towards the window.
"Claire," Owen called out softly, but she just tensed her shoulders. She heard him sigh, and felt the mattress shift again, as he moved. She thought he was going to reach out for her, but he didn't, and she was not sure if that made her happy or more sad. Instead, she can feel him settling next to her, close, but not quite touching. "I do want to be here. There's nowhere I'd rather be, then right here. I just..." There's a pause, and he shifted slightly, but he still doesn't touch her. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Hurt me?" Claire's so surprised she blurted out the question without thinking. When he didn't answer immediately, she turned to face him. "What do you mean, hurt me?"
He looked pained at whatever thoughts were coursing through him. "Your nightmare," he finally confessed.
"My nightmare?" Claire asked. She was now mentally going through all her recent nightmares, trying to identify what he meant. "What one?"
"The gyrosphere," Owen supplied.
"Oh," Claire gave an involuntary shudder, her mind flashing back to the feeling of panic, the seatbelt refusing to come undone. "What does that have to do with you?"
"I made it worse," Owen stated matter-of-factly.
"I don't follow," Claire shook her head. "How did you make it worse?"
"I didn't let you go," Owen looked away, unable to meet her gaze any longer. "You were fighting me."
"Owen..." When he didn't respond, it was Claire who reached out, hand landing on his knee. "You were asleep Owen. You can't blame yourself for what you did when you were asleep."
"The look on your face..." Owen scrubbed at his face again, and this time, as he turned back towards her, Claire can see just the sliver of evidence of moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. "You were terrified, Claire."
"That's why they call them nightmares," Claire rolled her eyes. "Me having a nightmare, that's not something you're responsible for. You can't take that on, too."
"I told you to get in," Owen reminded her. "I pushed you and Franklin into it."
"And if you hadn't, there's a good chance we wouldn't be having this conversation right now," Claire replied firmly. "What happened to your rule of no 'what if's'?" It was a rule he'd enacted after the Jurassic World incident, when Claire's mind would go down endless paths, creating infinite scenarios of how things could have turned out, for better or for worse. Her mind was an equal-opportunity offender.
"I don't ever want to hurt you," Owen replied.
"I know," Claire nodded. "That gyrosphere nightmare sucked. But that isn't on you. No matter how much blame you want to accept, that nightmare was a manifestation of my own mind. You don't have that much control over me."
"I don't have any control over you," Owen mumbled.
Claire just ignored the comment. "But you not wanting to touch me? You avoiding me? That hurts. I've spent the last week trying to figure out what I did wrong."
"I'm sorry," Owen looked dismayed.
"Just—next time, can you just tell me if something's wrong?" Claire asked. "Trust me, it can't be anywhere near as bad as what my mind will make up."
"Sure," Owen agreed. "But, you need to do the same. Why did you wait a week to ask?"
"I was afraid I didn't want to know the answer," Claire admitted. "If you didn't want to be here... if that was the reason, I wanted to pretend it wasn't true for a while longer."
"I'm sorry," Owen repeated. "Come here." This time it's him who reached out, as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. He buried his face in her hair, repeating,"I'm sorry."
They stay like that for a few minutes, each taking comfort from the other. Owen eventually lightly pushed her away, commenting, "I think we need some sleep. And if we fall asleep like this it's going to hurt." He shuffled back down on the bed, under the covers, holding out a hand to her. She followed his lead, sliding back down the bed. She cuddled towards him as he draped an arm over her hip, her head resting on his chest.
"I'm sorry for hurting you," Owen repeated again, sleep starting to cloud his voice.
"I'm sorry I didn't say something earlier," Claire replied. "I don't want to be hurting you either. There's clearly more than enough dinosaurs around willing to do so," she deadpanned.
Owen gave a small chuckle at that, nodding in agreement. He tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her closer towards him, before dropping a kiss in her hair.
Thanks for taking the time to read. You've made it this far, if you could, please drop me a line or two about what you thought. Praise or critiques, I'm here for it all. :)