Author's note: This is a very nice idea to play with, so I hope you guys will find it entertaining :D


16 years earlier

"Don't you dare, Owen! Don't you-"

The rest of Claire's warning was cut off when Owen Grady barreled into her, his arm slipping around her waist, and the next moment they were both flying off a small dock and into the lake, shoes, shirts, and all.

Cold water knocked all air out of her lungs, filling her mouth and nose, and Claire kicked her legs furiously, gasping hungrily when she broke out onto the surface, her heart hammering. Owen resurfaced right next to her seconds later, laughing and shaking the lake water off his hair like a dog.

"What are you, 5?"

Glaring at him, Claire turned around and started to swim toward the grassy shore, mercifully empty on this stifling-hot afternoon. Her tennis shoes were weighing her down, making her progress slow, her long bright-red hair floating behind her like a cape, glowing golden in the sun. A mermaid's hair, Owen called it, threading his fingers through it.

"Hey." Owen was right beside her in a blink of an eye – the man must have been a fish in the past life – and his arms were around her again, pulling her toward his chest. He was smiling that half-smile that kept making Claire's heart trip over itself every time she'd see it, and it was near damn impossible to be mad at him when his hair was sticking out in every direction, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "What's the point of going to the lake and not having a swim?"

With a sigh, Claire weaved her arms around his neck, allowing him to keep them both afloat.

"You only did that to see me in a wet shirt," she accused him.

"Now, why would I do that?" Owen gasped, mock-appalled. "I mean, I've seen you without it, so…"

With a groan, she tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight, and then his lips found hers, and everything else faded away. Claire pressed herself closer to him, the warmth of Owen's body a striking contract to the cool water around them. He was smiling against her mouth, kissing her slowly, and deliberately, and like they had all the time in the world.

If anyone told Claire two years ago – hell, a year ago – that this would be happening, she'd laugh them in the face and call them a moron.

Two years her senior, Owen Grady had always been considered 'bad news' in their small community. Living in a run-down house without a mother and a perpetually drunk father, he was forced to fend for himself, doing odd jobs since he was 13 to make sure he wouldn't starve to death. Never caught doing anything wrong himself, he used to hang out with the wrong crowd nonetheless, the kids from similarly less fortunate families who'd much rather spend their Friday nights in the parking lot behind a movie theater than at home with their permanently fighting parents.

Every town had them, and every town was eager to close its eyes on them.

However, surprising everyone, Owen got into college and left town when Claire started her junior year in high school. She saw him once since, at most. Apparently, athletic scholarships went a long way, and what he didn't succeed in in academics, what with showing up for school only half of the time, he compensated for just fine on a soccer field. Frankly, she never gave the troubled boy living down the street much thought, their social circles so drastically apart they might have as well been living in parallel dimensions.

Until several weeks ago when Claire's car broke down on the outskirts of town.

Owen was on a summer break, dealing with the house and whatever his father left behind when he died a few months earlier from either a heart attack, or a liver failure, or both. He spotted her staring more or less helplessly at the tubes and gears under the hood of her old Honda, which it took her two summers to save up for when he was passing by, the engine of his Triumph motorcycle scaring every living thing in a 5-mile radius.

He stopped and asked if she needed help. She politely declined, not recognizing him at first, not even when he took off the helmet. He got off his bike away and walked over to her, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, a black shirt stretched over his broad chest. She stepped aside obediently, having understood by then that she was not going to jump-start the smoking engine by herself, and this road was hardly the busiest one in the area. In the half an hour since she found herself here, Owen was the first person she saw.

This random encounter led to Owen giving her a ride because apparently her car needed a new battery, to them stopping by for ice-cream because it was a hellishly hot day, to a date, and then to a couple dozen more. In fact, she had a really hard time remembering the last day in the past month and a half they hadn't spent together, the heat melting them into one stretch of time.

First love, first kiss, the first man she'd ever been with, the first heart-leaping-over-the-moon-and-sailing-into-a-stratosphere kind of elation, filling her with unimaginable lightness, her head swimming and her smile impossible to wipe off her face.

Owen was wonderful, there was no other word for it. He was funny, and caring, and smart, and he read a lot – William Golding, Jack London, Faulkner, Wilde. He's trace lazy circles on her stomach with his fingers, telling her about college, his classes, his life so different from the one he led in this sleepy town until only a couple of years ago. He'd listen to her, too, ask her about her family, the classes she planned to take in college she was going to in the fall-

-throw her into a lake now and then apparently.

She had never been happier.

"They look like nothing today," Claire said, staring up at the clear blue sky with faint wisps of clouds floating across it as they waited for their clothes to dry up after the unplanned swim-slash-make-out-session-in-the-lake.

Lying on his back next to her near the water, Owen threw his arm behind his hear and peered up, squinting a little. "This one kinda looks like truck. Only upside down."

She laughed. "Now you're just making this up."

He stayed quiet for a moment or two as the gentle summer breeze blew over them, and then blurted out, "Marry me."

Claire turned her head to find him watch her, their shoulders touching, their faces only a few inches apart.

"What?" Did he really just say that?

"Marry me, Claire."

Her eyes narrowed, yet her lips were still curved into a small smile as she waited for Owen to laugh it off, admit it was a joke. "What are you talking about?"

Owen caught her hand, his thumb running over her knuckles and her lean fingers, "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He weaved his fingers through hers, their eyes meeting again. "I want to wake up every morning next to you, and laugh together, and fight sometimes because, let's face, you've met us, right?" He let go of her hand and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, tracing his hand along her face. "Every day, until the end of time."

Her smile slipped, and for a long moment she simply stared at him, taking in the bright blue of his eyes, gentle curls falling on his forehead, bleached by the summer sun, his sharp cheekbones and the straight line of his nose – every smallest detail she wanted to memorize forever. If he could freeze this moment in time and live it over and over again for the rest of her life, she'd do so without thinking twice.

"We can't do it," she said, trying to sound reasonable. "I'm leaving for college in a month."

"So do I," Owen shrugged. "That's the beauty of it. We'll be free. We can make it work."

He was not joking, and in that moment, she realized that it didn't sound all that insane. Not at all. She wanted all of this, too. Everything he mentioned, and more. And she didn't want them to end. "But don't you think-" She started nonetheless, ever the pragmatic.

"I know that I'm not going to change my mind about you, Claire. Not ever." He took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Are you?"

His eyebrow arched quizzically, and Claire felt her lips tug upwards. Drunk on the smell of grass and the intoxicating scent of summer, she slipped her hand around his neck, pulling him down until his face was only a breath away from hers, searching his eyes with hers. "Never."

xoox

The thing about never doing anything crazy was that no one ever expected it of you.

They couldn't get married in their home town – it wouldn't take five minutes for everyone to find out about it, including Claire's parents who, she knew for a fact, would be the opposite of ecstatic about it. Her father never bothered to hide his contempt for the Grady family, or at least for Owen's father, often calling Owen 'a lost cause' on account of his barely making it through high school, his motorcycle, and the rumors about his behaviour that were never proven to be true.

Granted, the concerns of Claire's parents were nowhere near her at the moment. Her older sister, Karen, got married a year ago and was expecting her first child now. Still a few months away from the due date, she was already the center of attention of everyone in the family, which Claire exploited as much as she could.

It was a quiet and warm Saturday when Claire and Owen drove to the next town, having obtained a marriage certificate a week earlier, giddy with anticipation and the plans that threatened to spill over the brim. She didn't need a dress or a ceremony, she told Owen earlier when he brought it up, or the guests, for that matter. She wanted to be with him, plain and simple.

The Town Hall was empty, their footsteps echoing in the spacious corridors and under the high ceilings, the marriage officiant calling them into her office right away. In her floral sundress, Claire felt like a princess. And the way Owen was looking at her… She vaguely remembered saying I do, too busy not floating away at the sight of his smile.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

Until one week before they were leaving for school, Owen asked her to meet him at the picnic area behind the ice-cream parlour they frequented and told her he enlisted in the NAVY.

"You did what?" She stared at him, wide-eyed, certain she'd heard him wrong.

Owen scrubbed a hand down his face. Sitting on the picnic table, his feet on the bench, he clasped his hands together. "Look, I had to…"

"But we're… Owen, our classes start in two weeks! What could have possibly happened-"

"I had no choice." His shoulders slouched helplessly, his eyes begging her to understand, his expression pained. "It'll pay for school. I don't really have-"

"What about your scholarship?" She demanded, her mind reeling and her stomach twisted into a tight knot, which made breathing near impossible.

"It's not enough." He ran his hand through his hair. "I have a job, too, but it's not enough to cover the living expenses."

"Okay, but you're not alone now. I will…" Claire began.

"No," he interjected firmly. "I'm not gonna have my wife do my job, Claire. I must be able to provide for you."

She bristled at that, her eyebrows knitted together. "So, what am I supposed to do?"

"It won't be long. Just until I save up enough-"

"No!"

He blinked. "No?"

"My father was in the military, Owen. I have spent 15 years of my life watching my mother go pale whenever the phone would ring because she knew what kind of news could be waiting for her on the other end of the line. I am not doing that."

Owen's jaw squared stubbornly. "Well, I'm not going to make my wife pay my bills."

"Great! Then how about I'll make it easy for both of us?" She crossed her arms over her chest, looking him steadily in the face, her gaze heavy and uncompromising. In the late afternoon sun her hair was so bright it looked like it was on fire, thick waves falling down her back. "You don't want a wife to inconvenience you and I can't deal with a husband jumping under the bullets."

He paled. "What are you saying?"

"You do it, and we're over." Her voice quivered unsteadily, betraying her resolve.

"You can't be serious. Come on, Claire. Look, I'm sorry it's gotta be like that."

"Thanks for telling me before you made this life-altering decision for both of us, by the way," Claire added, her voice ringing with tears burning her eyes.

"You think it's fun for me?" He demanded, disbelieving.

"Sure sounds like it, Owen."

"What do you want me say?" He asked helplessly.

Claire's shoulders sagged and she looked away from him. "Nothing, I don't want you to say anything, but if you leave, you and I are done."

xoox

Present day

Claire's phone buzzed on the desk near her laptop for the third time in the last five minutes, and she promptly ignored it. Again. Karen and her persistence… Claire didn't have time to go home for Thanksgiving. She barely had time to sleep, buried under the piles of projects and Simon Masrani's ideas she wanted so bad to come true.

Outside her floor-to-ceiling window, the day was bright and sunny, the sky so impossibly blue it was hard to look at it. Claire didn't trust it through. There were three seasons on this island – torrential rains that threatened to wash away the park and everyone in it off the face of the earth; thick heat, heavy and suffocating; and a combination of the two when the weather would change fifteen times a day, the storms passing over Isla Nublar faster than anyone could pull out an umbrella. They were currently in the middle of the third one, and she was certain that she might need a canoe for her afternoon trip to one of the paddocks with Mr. Masrani.

Right now, however, she was signing order forms for Zara – everything that needed to be purchased for the resort, from the tiniest of souvenirs to every single food item required for the restaurants, needed to go through her desk. Tedious as it was, Claire found it easier to deal with any crisis when she knew where it came from. It made her feel safe. It made her feel in control. And one couldn't make it to the heights she'd climbed without getting just a little bit paranoid about losing the grip on reality.

Claire flipped through the whole stack to make sure that every page was signed before handing the papers back to Zara.

"Is there anything else?" She asked. Her phone chirped again. She didn't even look at it this time.

"Well, actually…." Zara started in that conspiratorial voice that didn't mean anything good. "What are you doing this Friday?"

Claire's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Alec said there's this guy InGen hired for their new project-"

Oh, boy… "What project?" Maybe if she could have her talk about that, Clair thought, she'd get distracted enough to forget where she was going with that sentence.

Alec, Zara's husband-to-be, was a part of ACU team, the members of which rotated between Masrani Global that owned Jurassic World and InGen, its daughter company that was focused more on scientific research than entertainment. Due to his position, he knew just about every handler on the island better than Claire did, which was impressive because Claire made it her business to know everything about this place. Granted, she didn't need to know every handler by name, especially those that didn't even work in the park, but still.

"Something about testing animal intelligence?" Zara offered if a little uncertainly. "Doesn't matter. So, they hired that guy, and maybe if you want to… ah, have drinks with us on Friday…" She trailed off, watching Claire expectantly.

It was hard to tell which was more pathetic – Zara trying to fix Claire's nonexistent love life, or this question being entirely unnecessary because Zara, of all people, knew for a fact that Claire didn't have plans for the Friday night, unless squeezing in some overtime counted as plans.

"I don't think so."

"Aw, come on, Claire," her assistant started. "It's been-"

"Don't say that,' Claire warned her, pulling her laptop closer and booting it up.

"Look, it's just a drink or two. He seems like a cool guy."

"And… does he have a name?" Claire asked, more because it was the right thing to do than because she was curious in any way.

Zara winced a little. "Ah… Brady-something, I think?"

"Well, that's very… charming." Claire cleared her throat. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the thought, but as tempting as your offer sounds, that would be a no."

"Thirty minutes," Zara began, but Claire's phone let out a series of high-pitched chirps, Simon Masrani's name blinking on the screen, and she grabbed it hurriedly from her desk. "Grady," Zara muttered, her face lighting up. "Owen Grady-" She began, but Claire was already deep in her conversation, motioning for her to go now. Whatever it was, they were going to have to finish it some other time. "Right," Zara murmured as she picked up the papers, threw one last look at Claire who was now standing by the window, looking down at the park, a hand on her hip, as she explained something to Mr. Masrani in a light, measured voice.

They made a good team, a man with his head in the clouds and a woman who knew how to bring him down to the earth before he floated too far off to ever come back.

Claire considered her partnership with Masrani Global the best thing that ever happened to her. Sure, the hours were insane. She often couldn't remember the time when she went to bed before midnight and didn't have to get up at 6, but the benefits beat the difficulties. She loved the challenges of her position, loved being the first person to make something of such caliber successful – and there truly was no other place like Jurassic World, no other project of similar magnitude.

All in all, Claire was happy the way she were. The possibilities were endless, her future with the park was thrilling. No day ever was like the one before. The only thing she wished was possible was, perhaps, having more than 24 hours in a day to cram in everything she wanted to do, everything she had in mind about this place.

They were starting to talk about the expansion now. The island had a limited territory obviously, and they needed to consider the needs of each of the species regarding their habitats, but otherwise – she was swarmed with ideas and propositions. Like the petting zoo that was their newest addition and an instant success. Also, they only had two Mosasaurus shows now – in the morning and early afternoon, but with the longer days ahead of them, she planned to add another one in the evening, maybe install some fancy lighting in the pool to make it more spectacular and memorable. After all, it was just a feeding, the animal wasn't being exploited in any harmful way.

All things considered, she didn't need a date. She didn't have time for any of this, especially on the island.

There was a man not so long ago. He worked with Research and Development, their paths often crossing regarding one thing or another. They went out a few times, but it became clear fast that it wasn't going to work out. Her schedule and his career ambitions, and the general absence of the vibe… But they were still stuck on this piece of land surrounded by water and unable to simply walk away from having to deal with one another.

No one knew, as far as she was aware, and he didn't make a big deal out of it. But what if she was less fortunate the next time? It was one thing to joke about the lack of personal space here, and something else entirely to have to tiptoe around someone and be the center of gossip – neither idea looked particularly appealing to her. Besides, if she gave up any more of her sleeping time, she'd have to get a coffee IV just to make it through her 12-hour days, and that wasn't an option.

"Yes, Mr. Masrani," Claire responded to Simon's request. "I'll have that report on your desk by 2, and I'll see you in the afternoon."

By the time she hung up, her mind had already switched back to business, going through her mental to-do list, crossing off the items that were either accomplished, or were no longer relevant.

When Zara brought her coffee an hour later, Claire had long forgotten about her blind date offer, her nose buried in the spreadsheets that came in from Finance earlier that day.

xoox

"Home, sweet home," Owen announced, climbing out of the jeep with the park's logo on the doors and squinting in the bright sunlight.

Barry, his fellow animal handler, hopped out as well, looking around with a mixture of confusion and disbelief as he swept the clearing with a long glance, taking in the trees around it, the lagoon, and—

"It's a shed, Owen," he pointed out, uncertain. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Sure is."

Hands on his hips, Owen overserved the bungalow in front of him, his lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. It didn't look like much, but then again, he didn't need much. Not after his last tour that felt more like hell than anything else.

He knew what he was signing up for when he decided to join the NAVY, and even though it wasn't exactly what he expected it to be, there was little a person couldn't get used to over time. He loved having a certain order to his life, liked knowing he was doing something good. The timing was off, that much was clear, but otherwise, there weren't a lot of moments when Owen regretted his decision. And sometimes, when he tried real hard, the summer he had spent with Claire Dearing almost felt like a dream. A good one, but a dream nonetheless.

Sixteen years was a long time.

When InGen's offer came in a few months ago, there was little for him to think about. He didn't believe them at first. Sure, he knew about Jurassic World, and the first park, and John Hammond and his crazy experiments - everyone did. But training Velociraptors? Still, it was not the kind of offer anyone would turn down without proper consideration.

Owen said yes to one meeting, and then another, talking in detail about his work with sea mammals with Simon Masrani and Henry Wu. And before he knew it, there was an inch-thick contract full of legal jargon he was certain even corporate lawyers had trouble understanding, until he ended up here, in this very spot, on this morning, looking at what was meant to be his home for the next little while.

"It's a tool shed," Barry repeated, scanning their surroundings again with a new degree of apprehension, as if he hoped that another house, a bigger one, with a pool and maybe a tennis court, and a personal chef for good measure, was hiding behind what Owen knew was the real deal. "You can't live in a tool shed."

Owen walked over to the jeep and pulled the door open, reaching into the backseat for two duffel bags of his modest possessions, chuckling under his breath. The air was hot already, thick and humid, smelling strongly of wet soil, ocean and jungle, an almost intoxicating mix after several years in the Middle East and the desert where the dust was getting into every crevice of his clothes and body with the slightest gust of wind. The contrast was so striking Owen could hardly believe this was even real.

He arrived a few days earlier and stayed with the rest of the handlers until he got a green light for moving into the bungalow. Barry came to the island a week before him, from a similar mammal research program, but in California, both of them still trying to figure out what it was that InGen wanted to do with the raptors on account of how they were not a part of the park's entertainment projects. Not that it mattered, really. The paychecks promised to them were so generous, Owen would have agreed to teach anything to jump on command, not to mention that he was curious beyond measure.

"'Course I can," he said easily, flashing a quick smile at Barry. "I'll fix it up, polish it a bit." Owen set his bags on the porch steps. "It'll be good as new."

"Not possible," Barry let out a short laugh, still looking dumbfounded and somewhat skeptical, like maybe Owen was pulling his leg. "This place doesn't look like it was ever new." He shielded his eyes with his hand from the sun. "Thought you'd be living with the rest of us."

They did offer, of course. Every staff member required to stay on the island had an option to live in a complex built specifically for the employees. Comprising of several apartment buildings, it was of a smaller caliber than the resort, but still a decent accommodation. However, when Vic Hoskins offhandedly mentioned the old park structures that stood separately from the newer facilities, Owen asked whether they were suitable for living. They were not. However, Hoskins added then, there was a cabin not far from the paddock designated for the raptors, currently unoccupied. Owen didn't need to hear much else. That little detail sealed the deal.

Right now, it didn't look like much, but he knew there was running water and proper plumbing here, as well as a power generator and a gas stove. He would install solar panels to make the best use of what this place had an unlimited supply of for most of the year. Otherwise, it'd make do. It wasn't like he was going to spend much time here anyway. Doubted he'd have a minute of rest on his hands in the next… few years perhaps.

"Yeah, but it's too far away from the paddock," Owen said, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Barry nodded and didn't press for more. He gave the bungalow another studious look instead. "You're crazy."

Owen grinned. "It's my middle name."

He had a meeting with Simon Masrani and Hoskins scheduled for later today to discuss the work he was expected to do in more detail. The raptors, according to Henry Wu, were to hatch within the next week or so. They'd stay at the lab for a little while until they didn't need extended care and supervision. Until then, it was Owen's job to check the paddock and ensure its security and safety for the animals, as well as check the compliance of its size with the regulations set by the park's charter regarding the healthy environment for the animals.

It wasn't much, not for another week or maybe two, but Vic Hoskins didn't look like a man who'd let him sit back with a bottle of beer and enjoy the beach or something. Not that Owen wanted that. As crazy as this idea was, he couldn't wait to get his hands on those raptors and see what they were capable of. And if they were anywhere as smart as dolphins, this was going to be a fun game!

"So, you're seriously gonna stay here?" Barry asked again, just to make sure.

"It ain't that bad," Owen chuckled. He liked the quiet, he wanted to add, but after living for a few days in basically a frat house, it felt like an odd thing to say.

"Yeah. Right." Amused, Barry shook his head and checked his watch. "You about done here?"

Owen looked around one last time, noticing the dock and what used to be a fire pit, deciding to check everything else later, and nodded, heading toward the car again.

xoox

The first time Owen met Simon Masrani was four weeks ago, and the man was everything Owen didn't expect him to be. Enthusiastic and down-to-earth, he was nothing like Vic Hoskins who was the first person Owen talked to during the preliminary interview, and not only because he could afford to be anything he wanted to be. Simon explained the general concept of the contract InGen signed with the military, patiently answering Owen's questions.

He had that kind of charisma to him that made everything seem possible. Breeding dinosaurs? Sure! Training them for something? No problem. Teaching them to dance in tutus? Probably not that far-fetched.

The paddock that was meant to become Owen's new workplace was a new fixture, only finished a couple of weeks ago. Mr. Masrani wanted to go through the main issues that could arise. Owen went there yesterday to make a list of the weak points of the structure he thought was a good idea to bring up. He was still not entirely clear on what exactly he was supposed to do, but Hoskins assured him they had a program in place and there still was time.

The afternoon was scorching hot, the humidity plastering Owen's hair to his head when they arrived at the paddock. He inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowed against the sun. Trailing behind him, Barry waved at someone on the other side of the paddock, and just then, another car appeared from the road – a sleek silver Mercedes, sparkling-clean and shiny.

"I'll go find Hoskins," Barry said, starting toward a small hangar of a building that housed the office and the rec room with a couple of couches and a fridge.

Owen nodded, and headed to meet the boss.

xoox

The raptors had nothing to do with the park, but after their meeting regarding the budget and then a trip to the lab where Henry Wu walked them through the Indominus Rex project – the newest attraction Simon requested for not so long ago, he asked her to drive him to meet with the InGen team because they could squeeze going through the forecast for the next quarter into the time it took them to get to the paddock and back.

This was the last thing Claire needed today – she had a pile of bills from contractors to sort out and an inbox that could explode any moment if she didn't go through her emails ASAP, but it wasn't like she could say no, either. Hence the drive down the narrow winding road toward the other end of the island and wasting her precious time.

Her phone started to ring just as Claire parked in the shade of the trees surrounding the newest structure built specifically for the InGen's project.

"I'm sorry, I have to…" she began apologetically, looking at Zara's name and praying it wasn't an emergency.

"Go ahead," Simon waved his hand casually as he pushed the door open. "Join us whenever you can."

Claire nodded hastily and pressed Accept, her mind instantly miles away from this place. As she listened to Zara tell her about one of the guests who planned to file a complaint after dropping his phone into the pool – which obviously wasn't the park's fault – she peered out the windshield, taking in the tall concrete walls and the contractors in hard hats milling around, waiting for the final instructions.

She sank back against her seat, her fingers tapping absently on the steering wheel. The guest were to be negotiated with, she explained to Zara. Of course, they were not going to buy him a new phone, but they could probably offer something to him, like a free hour in a SPA, maybe some merch. She told Zara to find someone from Public Relations and send them to deal with it before negative Yelp reviews started coming in. No one would care it was the guy's clumsiness that got him in this mess – bad rep was bad rep, and Claire couldn't afford it, whatever the cost.

Afterwards, she lingered for a few more minutes to check her email, and when her only other option was to maybe listen to the radio, she finally stepped out, immediately assaulted with a wave of hot air that made breathing if a little uncomfortable.

Claire recognized the stocky form of Vic Hoskins who was now following Simon up the stairs to the catwalk running around and across the paddock, two handlers trailing behind them. She glanced down at her black pumps and then at the grated stairs and sighed. Had she known she'd need a more appropriate footwear today…. She'd probably try to find a way to wiggle out of being here.

Her phone pinged with the message from Zara, and Claire scanned at quickly as she walked, the gravel crunching under the soles of her Manolo Blanks.

Above her, Hoskins was explaining something to Simon who hummed now and then, listening to him as Claire climbed up the stairs, hoping she wouldn't twist her ankle or break a heel, or do something else equally exciting. She stepped onto the bridge, teetering slightly on her tiptoes, the wind whipping her hair in her face, and finally tore her gaze away from the screen on her phone.

The men stood stark in the middle of the walkway, gesturing toward the walls of the paddock, their voices muffled by the breeze and the thundering waves crushing against the rocks some two hundred feet away from them. The place looked a lot like the Indominus Rex's enclosure, and thus not particularly interesting.

Claire started toward them as a dark-skinned man she'd never seen before, probably one of the new employees that Zara had mentioned earlier, said something to Hoskins who nodded and jerked his chin toward the man on his left, his back turned to her. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind and his hands were resting habitually on his hips as he nodded in response to something.

Simon saw her and gave her a small wave, motioning for her to come over.

Hoskins's gaze darted to her in mild disinterest and the black man glanced quickly over his shoulder, his lips quirking ever so slightly in acknowledgement more than anything else. The other man didn't look at her at all. He did, however, turn to Hoskins—

And Claire froze in her tracks, her hand reaching automatically for the railing and gripping it tight while her heart plummeted all the way down to the ground.

He'd changed. Not much, but enough for her to miss the subtle mannerism she wouldn't have before. His shoulders were wider, the hair darker and shorter than she remembered, and the beard… She had never seen him with a beard before, unless the morning stubble counted for one. But if there was one person in this world she would have recognized even after a hundred years, it was Owen Grady. And here he was, standing right before her, on the island in South America – the last place where she'd ever imagined running into him.

It was a mistake, Claire thought instantly. A trick of light and heat.

"Claire, come here, I want you to hear this," Simon called out, his voice quiet through the blood rush in her ears.

And then Owen finally turned, his eyes landing on her. For a second, his gaze almost slid right past her, and she thought he wouldn't recognize her. Until he did, his eyes widening, the easy half-smile slipping off his face as he watched her take one tentative step toward them, and then another, Claire desire to fling herself over the railing reflecting on his face.

Breathe, she told herself, forcing her lips to form into a small, polite smile as she finally looked away from him, choosing to focus on Simon instead. Hell, even Hoskins with his usual leering would do. Just not—

"Claire, you know Vic," Simon said meanwhile, oblivious to how she was practically catatonic, her hand clasped so tight around her phone she could snap it in half. "This is Barry, um…"

"Dupont," the dark-skinned man with a bright smile offered quickly, his face open, his eyes curious on Claire. She took his hand, squeezing it briefly in a greeting.

"And this is-"

"Owen Grady," Owen said, his voice low, and maybe it was just Claire, but she could swear it broke a little.

He didn't offer her his hand, though, only a curt nod, which she acknowledged with the one of her own, barely glancing at him at all. It was impossible to ignore his presence though, as if his closeness was suffocating. It was unnerving to feel him stand next to her, hear his voice. Awash with the memories, she spent the next half an hour in a haze, nodding now and then and hoping that whatever Simon was telling her didn't require any other kind of reaction.

Claire sighed with relief when they finally wrapped the meeting up, and the two of them headed toward her car, her palms clammy and her hands shaking. Claire resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, make sure Owen was actually there because a part of her still believe it was some kind of delusion. The man she hadn't see for almost half of her life, the man she'd been married to for two weeks – how could he be here?

"Claire?"

She snapped her head up to find Simon watch her with a mixture of puzzlement and concern.

"I'm sorry," she offered him a quick, nervous smile. "There was, ah… an incident at the resort, I've got to…" she trailed off, fighting the urge to pass the hell out as she fumbled with the keys and started the car.

xoox

"What was that?" Barry paused beside Owen who was still standing on the catwalk, watching the silver Mercedes turn around and disappear behind the trees.

"Huh?" Owen hummed, barely registering the other man's presence.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Barry pointed out, following Owen's gaze. "You know her?"

Absently, Owen rubbed the back of his neck, his mind blank from shock. "That's my ex-wife."

To be continued...


A/N: Hope this was fun! Please let me know what you think :)