The helicopter had taken the survivors directly to San Jose for medical treatment. Alan's stomach churned as he watched the helicopter land precariously on top of the many-storied hospital. The blades of the aircraft landed harshly on the asphalt and a team of presumably informed doctors, nurses, and portable stretchers awaited them.
Landing in the darkness of the night, Lex and Tim sat, stunned at the idea of returning to the world of logic and safety. He observed the children, eyes glazed over and not fully looking at anything in particular - their mouths slightly open in awkward gapes. They had returned to earth. "Alright. Come on Lex, Tim. It's okay. Let's go." The pilot swung open the door of the helicopter and Alan hopped the short distance to the ground.
The heat of Costa Rica was the same, and his heart began beating furiously in the humidity. With Lex hanging onto his arm and Tim slung over his shoulder like a corpse, he moved as quickly as he could towards the team of medical staff. Before he could get a word out, the children were quickly pulled from him. It made him angry. They were doctors, and he didn't doubt the expanse of their knowledge, but the last thirty-six hours had been extremely taxing and had made him extremely weary of Lex and Tim's presence. He recognized these feelings for what they were immediately and turned back to Ellie and Malcolm emerging from the belly of the aircraft.
How he wanted to pull her into an embrace right now, tell her it was over, lie with her on some hospital gurney forever with his head buried in her curls. But the Ellie he had found wandering, bloodied and frantic, in the jungles on Isla Nublar seemed different. He watched her become Malcolm's crutch as they hobbled across the landing pad to another stretcher. But he knew she was still Ellie.
Hammond emerged last from the helicopter, cane in hand. Alan watched as the old man struggled to disembark the helicopter, shooing away any attendant who tried to help him. The palaeontologist gritted his teeth. He hadn't had time to be angry since the accident, but as he watched the old man shuffle across the roof after his grandchildren, feelings of hatred had found safe harbor within him.
Hammond was uninjured, unphased, had seen nothing of the power his creations possessed, had not seen what they were able to do to human beings. To him, they had always been the wretched, weak hatchlings he so punctually observed entering the world. It wasn't fair. What angered him the most was the way Hammond had hesitated upon their departure – as if he was actually lamenting his lost creatures. Alan's hand balled into a fist as he followed Hammond down the stairs and into the thankfully air-conditioned hospital.
Malcolm was wheeled directly into surgery for the compound fracture that extended from his tibia up to his knee. The rest of the survivors were stripped of their mud and blood crusted clothing and whisked in wheelchairs to various parts of the hospital. Alan hadn't even noticed the mask of cuts and scrapes that covered his face. The sharp sting and smell of antiseptic brought tears to his eyes and he blinked furiously for most of the morning.
The rest of the day saw the children undergo complete check-ups, Hammond hovering over them. All the while Alan was forced to sit in a wheelchair with an I.V in his wrist. Ellie had also been admitted for dehydration as well. He was thankful that they were permitted to sit together as their wounds were dressed and their conditions communicated to them through translators. Whenever they had a brief moment, he would squeeze her hand in a gesture of reassurance. She would smile at him and squeeze him back. It was in those moments that the feisty Ellie showed herself – she wasn't gone. The hustle and bustle of the hospital had the atmosphere of a peaceful oasis compared to the chaos of the island, and the paleontologist and paleobotanist dozed on each other's shoulders.
Alan felt in that moment, when their time was at hand in sixty years, they would return to this moment.
When they awoke, Hammond stood just across from them, keeping cool with a handheld battery fan. Alan's first thoughts were of the kids.
"Tim, Lex. Are they okay?" He sat up too quickly and his head began swimming. Hammond tottered over to the two, "They're fine fine yes just fine." He explained in his usual soft voice, waving a reassuring hand. "The doctor says Tim's showing signs all typical of the average lightening strike victim. But since it's what they call an 'alternating current' strike, nerve damage is minimal but he's got some nasty burns on his hands poor dear." The old man stroked his white beard in concern. "Lex is running a small fever, but they suspect it's from the dehydration. Should be cleared up in a few days. Dr. Malcolm should be getting out of surgery soon."
Alan released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He felt Ellie on his shoulder again and settled his head back down on top of hers. Not a moment later a pair of nurses chattering frantically in Spanish descended upon the two doctors and wheeled them to a double room. Only a stained curtain separated the two beds, but Alan had no intention of letting Ellie leave his sight.
To lie on a soft mattress was almost an alien feeling to Alan. The feeling of his head sinking into the pillow was indescribable. His eyelids were heavy and sinking as the room spun in circles around them. Ellie had already fallen asleep as Alan's vision blurred. It was a fight to allow himself to submit to sleep, but eventually it took him.
