AN: Set after JP2. Alan hears the news.
...The Telephone...
Alan Grant stares at the black telephone as the TV drones on in the background and his fist clenches the silver remote. The hotel wallpaper is faded and stained and down the hall children are chasing each other but he is trapped in a land of trees and bushes and blood and death, instincts screaming, heart racing as his ears remain tuned for the next snapping branch, the next scream of pain or despair, knowing behind the next looming tree could linger his—their—death.
"Ian, freeze!" he screams, watching the chaotician with a flare in his hand and fear in his eyes—
The phone number is on the card in his battered wallet it his back pocket where it has always been since Ian handed it over with a self-deprecating smile and a million sleepless night hovering in his eyes. Alan has woken in a cold sweat, heart racing, throat raw from yelling the names of people as they die but the card has not been moved or jostled or taken out.
But during his lecture today people listened and watched like they'd done before—like they'd done after—and outside on the steps reporters clustered and questioned and on National news Alan was informed that nightmares do come true, for Ian at least, and Alan heard the T-Rex roar inches from his face and shivered, blindly forcing himself through reporters that would not move, would not quiet as Lex screamed and Ian sacrificed.
The news stories and footage recycle and the ship is shown, the nightmare beast entombed in steel and to others it is a ship with a picture, a cartoon, a fossil but to Alan it moves and breathes and kills and his heart pounds as he imagines facing it down again and he shivers again, this time for Ian and for all his foolhardy courage.
Part of him is calm and focused in the face of danger or crisis and part of him is putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out worn leather and pulling out the laminated card, as professional as Ian is not. The phone is in his hand and ringing before he realizes he's moved and it is too late to back out, too late to run. All he can do is face the music, face his fears as Ian was forced to do. It stops mid-ring and Alan swallows, breath caught in his throat, near-death caught in his eyes.
"Hello?"