Author's note: I'm a Clawen trash and I regret nothing. Also, 2018 is sooooo far away, and I kinda have to keep myself entertained, I guess? Agh, this story just happened, and it's totally out of my control at this point. Also, some of us love everything angsty, so...

Enjoy the ride!

This time all I want is you
There is no one else
Who can take your place

I've seen enough and it's never enough
It keeps leaving me needing you

"Take Me Away" by Lifehouse

"YOU DID WHAT? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

Claire pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing a little. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and decided that even if she hung up right now, she would still be able to hear Karen yell at her all the way from Wisconsin, which made her feel bad for Wisconsin in general. Not that her sister had no reason to be upset.

Had someone asked Claire a few months ago if she'd even consider going back to Isla Nublar, she'd laugh in their face and tell them to go to hell. No, wait, that would be Owen. She'd just laugh in their face. And then she'd slam the door on her way out for good measure.

So, all things considered, Karen's reaction was not entirely surprising. Or uncalled for, for that matter. Which did not make it any less loud.

To say that the aftermath of the Jurassic World incident was pure hell would be an understatement, to put it mildly. If Claire had to imagine a place where Hell would go if it had to go to hell, this would be it. Since the moment she stepped off the ferry in Costa Rica and until, well, now there were reporters following her everywhere and shoving their microphones and cameras at her with admirable persistence. Her face was all over the news and every other kind of social media where she was either praised for saving the island from the Indominus Rex (ha!), or cursed for allowing the massacre to happen in the first place.

The court hearings were a special kind of fun, the one that Claire got to enjoy mostly with her mouth shut while the lawyers did the talking. No one was there to hear about Hammond's ideas or Simon Masrani's dedication, and could she blame them? If it was her family slaughtered during their Christmas vacation, she'd personally tear the whole island down without so much as a second thought. She wouldn't even need Ian Malcolm's and Alan Gant's I told you so's to start seeing red. And what could she say anyway? That they thought the paddock was safe? That they assumed everything was under control? That they chose to go after the Indominus with non-lethal weapons even after she had already killed several people?

So she kept her lips pursed tight, her chin held high, and her hands balled into fists with her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms – the only thing that kept her from actually screaming.

And then there were long nights spent with her face pressed into a pillow and the sobs wrecking her body, and the guilt breaking her in half, and the memories she wanted to claw out of her mind if only she knew how. And the days when she would feel the ground vibrate under the passing truck and think it was the T-Rex chasing after her again, the hot Californian sun beating on her skin much like the heavy breath of the beast. And the times when she would curl into a ball on the floor of her bathroom, with her arms wrapped around her knees, and tell herself to keep on breathing – in, out, in, out - because she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't, couldn't, couldn't…

She wanted to personally track down whoever said that time healed everything and punch them in the face for not specifying just how long it was supposed to take her to start feeling comfortable in her own skin again. She learned from experience that "There's not enough therapy in the world" wasn't just a figure of speech either – her health insurance with the Masrani Global covered the sessions but talking about the events at the park was making it worse. It was making her remember the things she didn't think she knew, and so she quit before the damage got unrepairable. She learned to ignore the reporters, not to look back when she heard her name being called out on the street, and to hope that one day she would feel a little less broken.

"No," she said without hesitation when the question of her return to Isla Nublar first came up, making sure that her face clearly read Over my dead body. There was no way – no way IN HELL – she'd even consider it ever again. No, she'd had enough dinosaurs for the rest of her life.

They let her be. Let her fight her demons on her own, which Claire was grateful for. They made her believe it was finally over.

And so she did not see anything strange in being summoned to the office of Greg Anderson, the man appointed by the Masrani Corp Board of Directors to take over some of the Simon Masrani's projects a little while ago. Not until she walked in and saw Lowery already slouched in one of the chairs by the conference table the size of a landing stripe.

He gave Claire a small wave, and her insides twisted into a knot.

"Absolutely not," she repeated when Greg Anderson laid out his plans to her.

"I understand where you're coming from, Miss Dearing—"

"No, you do not." Claire cut him off. "You're insane in you think that the park could be salvaged after everything that happened."

"This is not what we're going for. For now."

For now. She all but snorted. Please!

"You need to leave the island alone."

"What happened in Jurassic World was a tragedy," Anderson continued, either oblivious to her attitude or choosing to ignore it. "But the land on Isla Nublar still belongs to the company, and so do the remaining… animals." He linked his fingers together resting his forearms on the desk and looking at Claire over the rim of his glasses. "As you're aware, we did the basic clean-up, but before we decide if we're going to keep the island as a conservation area, or turn it into an attraction again, it needs to be taken care of properly."

Claire kept her face blank. How could they not understand what they were doing?!

Lowery shifted in his seat.

"Mr. Cruthers here kindly accepted our offer to help with the technical side of this project. Of course, he will have a team of experts at his disposal, but his knowledge of the park's operational systems and infrastructure will be of a great advantage at this point." Anderson cleared his throat. "Naturally, we're going to involve a group of veterinarians and asset containment specialists to help with the practical execution of this task."

"There is a T-Rex running loose on that island," Claire reminded him. "It's not a lost puppy. It'll kill everyone you send over there simply because it's in its nature." She huffed. "Have you really enjoyed dealing with the lawsuits and settlements so much you want to give them another go?"

Anderson took off his glasses, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, cleaned the lenses and returned the glasses back on his nose. "It's a done deal, Ms. Dearing. I did not call you here to ask for your opinion or your permission. The teams are getting ready now, whether you like it or not." Which made sense, except Claire still couldn't believe this conversation was happening. "But they need a leader, someone to coordinate their activities, and right now there's no one in this company who knows this job better than you do."

Unbelievable. Claire shook her head, looking for a moment over Anderson's shoulder and out the window at the vast expanse of the San Diego business district with a thin strip of deep-blue ocean on the horizon. He couldn't possibly be serious!

"This is crazy."

Anderson disregarded her comment. "And as for your question, we have successfully captured and contained the T-Rex before. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but you and I both know it's doable." He paused. "We're assigning a security team – courtesy of InGen – to keep everyone safe and to take care of this particular issue."

She wanted to laugh at that, except it came out short and bitter, and entirely humorless. "Because it worked so damn well the last time around."

But she was wavering for the reasons she couldn't put her finger on just yet, and she knew Anderson could sense it.

She straightened her back, pursed her lips, put her most detached face on. You don't have to do it, she told herself. You can walk out of here and never come back.

"Who else are you sending?" She asked.

"Well, as I mentioned, Mr. Cruthers will be taking care of the IT aspects, and Mr. Dufour will be responsible for capturing and containing the assets." He flipped through a stack of papers before him and pulled out a list of the assigned team member before sliding it over to Claire. "I believe you've worked together before."

Barry.

Claire's heart did a small somersault as she scanned the names, registering a few familiar ones. The majority of people she'd never heard of before though, which made sense – those who knew what was waiting for then on that island had most definitely swore it off for good.

She put the list down, looked at Anderson again. "What about Owen Grady?" His name felt odd in her mouth but if her voice cracked a little, no one paid attention to it.

Anderson straightened the papers, closed the folder. "Mr. Grady did not find the idea of going back to the park particularly appealing." He shrugged impassively.

"I believe his exact words were 'Hell, no! No fucking way!'" Lowery muttered, keeping his eyes down, and the corner of Claire's mouth tugged up ever so slightly.

She took her time, allowing the wheels in her head to turn, taking in the information, the risks, and the very prospect of doing this again. It was insane, but she knew that trying to prove that to the Board would be just as effective as banging her head on the wall – in the end, she'd be the one exhausted and maybe hurt.

It wasn't like she didn't see it coming. Anderson was right – from the managerial standpoint, the park that turned overnight from being the most profitable project of Masrani Global into the most disastrous fiasco had to be dealt with one way or another. She just didn't expect them to turn back to it this soon. In a couple of years – maybe. After only eight months? Someone either had big plans for it (which she honestly didn't want to go into), or they needed a publicity stunt of some sort to try and redeem themselves, prove that they were on top of the situation.

"You're under no obligation to accept this offer. If you decline, we will appoint someone else, but the Board thinks that your participation would make the process faster and smoother."

Beside her, Lowery stiffened. Claire could have sworn he was holding his breath, too.

At last, she nodded slowly.

"You sure you want to do this?" Lowery asked the moment the two of them stepped into the hall and the door to the conference room closed behind them.

Claire rubbed her corners of her eyes, no longer even trying to remember the last time she had a good night's sleep. "This is the last thing I want to do, believe me." What she did want to do was to throw up, perhaps. "But he's right – if you want to do something well, do it yourself."

He snorted softly, then shifted from foot to foot, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, and gave her that knowing look she had already started to hate. "He's transferring, you know."

Play dumb, play dumb, play dumb.

"Who?" She met his eyes, her face a stone mask.

"Owen. InGen offered him something on the East Coast, I'm not sure about the details but he said yes."

Play cool, play cool, play cool.

It was none of her business, she reminded herself. Hadn't been for quite a while now. He could move to the moon, for all she cared. Except it wasn't exactly working that way, and the black hole in her chest that would usually make Claire want to curl in on herself and cease to exist had just started closing up, damn it!

She shrugged and started walking down the corridor, hoping it would make it harder for Lowery to read her face. Besides, dinosaurs or not, she had an afternoon meeting to attend. "Good for him," Claire said at last, noticing that Lowery fell into step beside her.

"We might need him, you know that, right? I mean I'm sure that if you asked-"

"The only reason I'm going is because Mr. Grady isn't," she cut him off.

"Claire—" he began.

She stopped and turned to him, all but daring him to say anything she didn't want to hear. "What?"

Lowery gave her a lopsided smile. "Welcome to the team."

So, THAT happened two weeks ago.

She should have probably called Karen and told her the news straight away. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or even a week ago would've worked better than mere 36 hours before she was supposed to be shipped off to Costa Rica again and her condo looked like a set of a post-apocalyptic movie because between saying yes and realizing that it was actually happening, she somehow forgot to pack. Also, she was a chicken and she knew exactly how that conversation would go. And now the entire population of Madison did, too.

"It's not that big a deal, really." With the phone squeezed between her ear and her shoulder, Claire pulled a bunch of hangers out of her closet and threw them onto her bed.

"Not a big deal? In 49 states out of 50, it would be considered a suicide attempt. Should I call 911?"

"You don't have to be so melodramatic, you know."

"I'm not being—" Karen cut off and said to the side, "No, honey, no one is hurt. Aunt Claire has just lost her mind." And then to Claire, "Gray says hi."

"Karen—"

"You almost died there! It could've been you in one of those coffins I saw when we—"

"Look, it's not like I'm going after a bear with a slingshot." Just after a T-Rex with a stick. "It'll be totally safe." And maybe if she repeated that enough times, she'd be able to believe it herself.

"Well, excuse me for not buying that." Karen inhaled sharply. "Why are they making you do this again?"

"No one is making me do aything, okay? I'm doing it because I need to do it to have a… closure, or whatever." Claire sank heavily onto the bed. "I need to stop being scared of that place." She bit her lip. "It's going to be okay."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Claire could picture her sister pacing restlessly in her kitchen, half-fuming half-terrified out of her mind, and if her guilt wasn't overwhelming enough before, it certainly reached a whole new level of 'not cool' this very moment. She looked at her open suitcase, at piles of clothes stacked on every surface in her bedroom, at the open drawers and what had once been a very orderly life. It wasn't too late to change her mind – no one would tie her up and shove into the helicopter when it came down to it. And Karen was right – what was she thinking, exactly?

Except she knew it wasn't that simple because fear and post-traumatic issues aside, there were animals on this island she felt responsible for. They didn't keep them in different enclosures just for the convenience of the park guests. Some of the species came from different ecosystems. Some of them weren't meant to co-exists with one another, and it wasn't like they could migrate elsewhere, and…

Karen let out a resigned sigh. "You promise?"

"I swear."

"And you'll call. A lot." Not a question – a demand.

"So much you'll get sick of me." Claire's lips curled into a small smile.

"Works for me. And, Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

xoox

When the helicopter started circling Isla Nublar approaching the landing platform over the control center, Claire's stomach clenched. From up there, it looked familiar and yet as alien as the first time she came here all those year ago.

As Greg Anderson mentioned, the company did some clean-up in the weeks following the park's downfall, mostly retrieving the bodies and salvaging the equipment and the data that could be used in court to prove that the Indominus Rex incident was a singular event and that the park was perfectly safe for nearly a decade prior to it. To show that up until this unfortunate Christmas, the worst thing the guests had to face was mosquitoes.

Claire breathed out slowly and tried to relax her hands that were clasped tight in her lap. Lowery's guys and some of the InGen people flew in a couple of days ago to secure the main buildings they were going to use and check the fences, and it was only her and a vet named Anthony Maxwell who Claire never met before in the chopper now – aside from the pilot. They nodded a hello to each other back in San Diego and had barely said two words since. Which was totally fine with Claire. He seemed too busy going through a thick folder of God knows what anyway – her best bet was on the dinosaur species he was about to encounter for the first time in his life. She almost felt bad for him.

It was too late to have cold feet, but looking at the park from above now – at what was left of it, that is – made a heavy dread settle in her stomach. Maybe coming back here was a bad idea after all. Maybe she should have quit and moved to New Jersey or something. Maybe she should've started anew and tried to forget the whole thing altogether instead of cutting old wounds open before they could even begin to scar.

Maybe she could just open the damn door now and jump out until it was too late…

But before that thought even fully formed in her head, the helicopter touched the roof of the control center with an audible thud, shuddering all over on impact and making her grab the armrest of her seat – on instinct more than anything, really.

Mr. Maxwell climbed out first, shaking hands with someone Claire couldn't see clearly because of the sun beaming in her face and then disappearing in the building, and then it was her turn to step into the humid heat and the wind of the chopper blades that kept throwing her hair in her face. She shielded her eyes with her hand from the merciless sun and finally got a chance to take a proper look at their 'welcome party'.

Dressed in the InGen uniform and with a rifle slung over his shoulder, Barry looked more like a soldier than an animal handler (or a poker player, or a beer-drinker) she remembered. But his face was open and his smile was broad and genuine, and it somehow lifted the weight of the world off of her shoulders.

"Hey, Claire," he greeted her, squinting in the sun, and she felt her own lips stretch into a smile for the first time in what felt like forever.

It took Owen weeks and a great deal of mockery to get him to start calling her by her first name instead of Miss Dearing (because Come on, man, seriously!) – long after she'd given up on It's Claire, Barry, really, and she was happy it finally stuck. She doubted she'd ever feel at ease in this place again, but seeing Barry made it feel almost like coming home.

"Barry." From what she knew about the man, he could probably snap her neck without breaking a sweat, but it didn't stop her from raising on her tiptoes and giving him a hug. "How's everything going on here?"

He offered her a crooked grin. "The systems are all set up and running. And no one's been eaten yet."

"Don't even joke about it," she shook her head, following him to the door and into the cool belly of the control center, which looked and smelled exactly as she remembered – of concrete and processed air. Some things never changed.

"I'll have one of my guys take your bags to the hotel," he looked at her over the shoulder. "Is that okay?"

"That would be perfect, thank you," she nodded, trailing after him down the steep stairs.

"There are cars are your disposal, although I wouldn't recommend going anywhere alone. Just to be safe." He held the door open for her as they finally reached the control room level. "The vets usually bring one of us over. We've got firepower, too. Also, you could have your old office back if you want."

"I think I'll just camp out here for a while."

The control room looked exactly the same, except instead of twenty people there were only Lowery and a man and a woman Claire wasn't familiar with.

At the sound of their footsteps, Lowery tore his eyes away from the monitor and span around in his chair. "Hey, boss." He saluted to her. "How was the flight?"

"Bumpy." Claire made her way closer to the main screen, her eyes taking in the digital map of the island. "How are we doing here?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, the good news is, most of the tracking implants are still functional and we can easily locate the majority of the animals."

"Most, not all," Barry stepped closer to Claire, his eyes also scanning the map.

"Right." Lowery turned his chair back to his desktop, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "There are two Pachys and a whole herd of Microceratus running wild and free between the valley and the raptors' paddock, and the vet patrol spotted a Paras—something by the beach on the east side of the island." He looked at Claire again. "We might have to capture and sedate them to check their implants, maybe replace them."

She processed the information. "And the bad news?"

"The island is huge, and with the fences down, some of the guys wandered off pretty far." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "If you want them back on the park territory, it might be a bit of a challenge."

Claire bit her lip. What she wanted first was to have them all accounted for, to know the exact number of the animals and their food preferences. Then they needed to see if any of the dinosaurs were sick or injured and take care of them before deciding what to do with them. Also, a long hot shower didn't sound particularly bad.

"The resort territory is secure, more or less," Lowery continued meanwhile. "There're occasional Pteradonons flying around, but most of them had long settled in the western part of the island. There're cliffs out there, they like them. So, just keep your eyes open."

"What about the Mosasaurus?"

"Fed and happy," Lowery reassured her.

"And she's easy to keep an eye on," Barry added with a small smile.

"And the T-Rex?"

Barry pointed at the map. "She stays close to the old park because it makes a good hunting ground. Her tracker in functional, and you can see her coordinates on your phone."

"Yeah, better not go there for a walk, perhaps," Lowery commented.

Claire took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. This felt good. Normal even, as far as normal went in this place. She was in her element again, with her feet on the ground instead of being suspended in the air. This whole plan suddenly felt possible. Hell, it almost felt doable – something she couldn't quite imagine even a few weeks ago.

Her eyes darted from Lowery to Barry and back to Lowery. "Anything else I should know about?"

"A construction crew is coming in tomorrow to clean up the Main Street and reinforce some of the paddocks." Lowery told her. "And…. That's about it for now." He shrugged. "You can go settle if you want. Unpack. Grab a beer – if you can find one."

Barry wasn't joking about the cars. Or the firearms.

Claire took one of the park jeeps intending to go straight to the hotel, take a bath and fall into bed for the next 14 hours, but instead she found herself driving along the winding roads and narrow paths of the park, heading deeper and deeper into the lush jungle of the island. With her mind abuzz, she couldn't bear the thought of being stuck in her room, alone, with her brain being a death trap even on the best of days lately. The mere idea made her feel claustrophobic and sick.

Driving, on the other hand, felt liberating. Her hands and feet moved and shifted mechanically, steering the car forward, and for once, it seemed less like running away and more like moving on. She rolled her window down and allowed the wind to whip her hair as it pleased, breathing in deep scents of earth, ferns and orchids hanging over her head. It wasn't hot, per se, especially for late August, but the air felt thick and heavy, which was a nice change after the dry heat of California.

She slowed down at the fork in the road. Turning right would take her to one of the beaches, which did not sound like a bad idea at all. Which sounded like a pretty damn good idea actually. But then her hands were already spinning the wheel and steering the car to the left, heading deeper inland, and before Claire knew it, she was pulling over by the familiar picnic table at the end of the driveway.

She killed the engine, struck by near complete silence that settled around her instantly, then pushed the door open.

A metal bucket of a trailer was still where Owen had left it months ago, right by his bungalow. It did not look particularly abandoned, probably because he never bothered to keep it neat in the first place, but the grass was coming up almost to her knees now and there was a broken branch hanging low over the roof of the trailer – a result of one of the storms, she guessed. Claire made her way towards the wooden porch and climbed up the steps that creaked in protest under her weight.

A flock of birds took off the nearest tree, making her all but jump out of her skin, but otherwise the place seemed quiet and deserted.

He didn't come back for any of his stuff, that much she was certain of. They went from the innovation center to the evacuation hangar in the docks to the ferry, neither one of them concerned about their possessions left behind. Not with the beasts breathing down their necks and the monsters haunting their minds. Funny how easy it sometimes was to have one's priorities sorted out. Claire wondered what she'd find inside the bungalow if she went in, but even with Owen being thousands of miles away and without any intention of ever coming back here it still felt like invasion of his privacy. She reached for the doorknob on impulse – just to check if it was locked at all – only to pull her hand back back and step away.

She had no business being there, Claire told herself. For one thing, it wasn't safe. It also wasn't – shocker! – particularly healthy. She should've left. She shouldn't have come in the first place, for that matter. Instead, she headed for the dock that swayed a little under hear feet, ignoring the mosquitoes that took their fierceness to a whole new level near the water. The air was still, and she inhaled deeply, finally seeing why he would choose to live here, in the middle of nowhere, instead of sticking with the accommodation provided by InGen. Peace of mind was so underappreciated.

"I would've never pegged you for a sentimental type."

Startled, Claire whirled around, only barely keeping her balance on the wet boards slippery after the rain that fell in the morning. Her heart jumped up to her throat and then plummeted down into her stomach somehow growing in size in the process, taking all the space inside of her body until there was nothing left for, say, lungs. So maybe this was why she could feel its hollow thuds even in her fingertips. And maybe this was why she couldn't take a proper breath without chocking on something in her throat.

Either not noticing, or – most likely – ignoring her surprise, Owen put the box he was holding in his hands on the already crowded desk by the porch. He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of is cargo pants before giving her an apprehensive look, his smirk not quite reaching his eyes and only making his gaze heavier in contrast.

Frankly, Claire would've preferred to see a T-Rex.

To be continued...

A/N: Thanks for making it this far! Comments are always appreciated :)