Alright, so, here's a tough admission. I am a serious idiot. I have seen JW so many times and all this time I thought that Lowery's name was actually Larry. Some sweet soul on AO3 let me know of my mistake and I think her dearly. That being said this story has been editted and Lowery our loveable geek has returned.

Anyway, thanks for reading this fic which I've worked hard on for a while. That included watching JW multiple times and specific scenes about a hundred times more than that. Clearly it didn't help.

Chapter One: Red Raptor

Claire Dearing stepped outside into the dreary, early morning. A cold chill licked the length of her spine sending her into a momentary shutter. It was an unusually cold, June morning, even by coastal northern Washington's standards, but it wasn't the cold that had elicited the deep, uncomfortable, chill.

The phone call with Selina, an old family friend, had left her with a deep-seated feeling of dread that, no matter what she told herself, she couldn't shake away. Selina had said she was in town and that she had wanted to meet up for breakfast. That had all been well and good before she realized that very few people knew that she had moved to Anacortes, Washington. In fact, there was only one person who knew her true location, and that person was Lowery. She had only told Lowery because at the moment they shared a common problem. Anyone else would be in danger if they knew where she was. In the current climate, information was a dangerous commodity.

So how was it that Selina knew?

She and Lowery had gone to lengths to cover their tracks. They had acquired new identities and changed their appearances as best as they could without invasive help. For the purposes of their operation, they weren't even living in the same city, but close enough to each other to be within driving distance.

With the help of murky, brown contacts, glasses and an extremely expensive wig, she had gone from a blue eyed, auburn, powerhouse to a blond haired, brown-eyed, horn rimmed glasses wearing, small town librarian. To those who knew her here, she was Sarah Carson, a shy woman, born and raised in the Idaho backcountry. If anyone saw through her disguise they didn't' let on. Although, she had no reason to suspect that anyone knew who she really was. Well, at least until now anyway.

God, how stupid had she been to think that this could ever work? But being her stubborn self, she had to try, not because she was a glutton for punishment but because she just didn't know when to quit. Owen had been right.

Claire's stomach did a sick twist. Owen. She wished that he was here now with her. He'd know what to do in this highly volatile situation. But he wasn't here. Just her. By her own choice. She hadn't even given him one. She had just left in the night, like the plot of a sad country song.

So, it was up to her to rectify this situation. Selina had sounded so strained on the phone. Claire could only imagine that someone had a gun pressed to the poor woman's skull. That's the only reason she agreed to come. She fully intended to save Selina if she wasn't already dead. She certainly planned on meeting any attackers head on. She reached inside her anorak for just a moment and stroked the butt of the smith and Wesson she had holstered in her shoulder rig. It wasn't the only gun she carried but it was her favorite of the two. Owen had given it to her six months prior on her birthday, exactly three weeks before she had left him. The guilt rushed her for just a moment, before she closed her eyes and pushed it aside. She had gotten good at this practice. Maybe someday she wouldn't even feel the guilt anymore. Wishful thinking, she knew that plain as day.

Before she knew it, she was suddenly three blocks from the meeting place. She had chosen Café Wolf for its popularity and its proximity to the Anacortes Police Department. The police could literally run over in less than a minute if they were summoned. The only reason she hadn't called them already was purely selfish. If this turned out to be nothing, her cover was blown. Disappearing from the lives of her loved ones would have been for nothing, and all the hard work that she and Lowery had put in would instantly become meaningless.

She had made mistakes in her lifetime, too many to count in fact, but she wasn't stupid. She had learned from those mistakes and she had learned well. So the moment she suspected this was a trap she realized something. There were three alleys between her and the café where predators could easily lie in wait. But there were also sixteen cameras. Despite being in Seattle, Lowery had control over all of them. If it came down to a fight he'd call the police. All she had to do was hold on until help arrived. Thanks to Owen's teaching, she knew that she could more than handle herself in a fight.

A light rain began to fall as she transected the entrance to the first alley. She kept watch, but not overly so. She had mastered the art of being alert without appearing guarded a long time ago. She also knew how to make herself look like easy prey. And when the predator she wanted to attract came stupidly forward she would spring showing her own hunter colors. She reveled in that kind of action, but she didn't do it often. She wasn't a vigilante. But sometimes, she was just bored.

Out of the corner of her eye she took notice of a homeless man trying to ward off the cold with nothing more than a tattered jacket and a haphazard shelter made of tin. Her heart broke for the man but at the moment she couldn't stop and buy him a warm drink like she wanted to. Instead she reached into her anorak pocket for her wallet. She didn't dare carry a purse anymore because of the added weight and the fact that it was just one more thing someone could grab onto.

She handed the homeless man a one-hundred note and smiled at the man's shock.

"I can't accept this, ma'am."

"Yes you can." She said firmly. "I don't care what you spend it on, but some of that has to go to keeping yourself warm. Rumor has it we're in for a windstorm that will bring a record breaking chill down on Anacortes tonight.

She turned on her heel and rushed off quickly before the man could stutter out another word. She did hear him shout 'thank you' and she threw a wave over her shoulder. She hadn't done enough good deeds lately. Maybe if she died today this would be enough to win her a bed in a better place.

She very seriously doubted that.

By the time she reached Café Wolf her suspicions were plunging steeply towards intense paranoia. Nothing had happened on her walk to the café. She had chosen this place because the people who wanted her dead weren't stupid or desperate enough to attack at Café Wolf and of course the route to the café was heavily covered, which is why she didn't even bother to drive. Gas was expensive just now for librarian Sarah Carson. And she couldn't touch 'Claire Dearing's' account unless she wanted trouble. And yet, she had just given some homeless man one-hundred dollars to do with as he pleased. She'd have to argue the rationality of that decision with herself later if she survived.

But still nothing made sense. They should have attacked by now. She wondered if maybe she should have considered that these people would be desperate enough to nab her in a crowded locale. Café Wolf was a mecca for breakfast lovers across the country. Even at 6:30 in the morning it would be packed. Now that she thought of it, she should have considered that scenario to be an absolute certainty.

With a sigh, Claire realized that she couldn't beat around the bush anymore. She knew that the people who were after her were tied to InGen. Not Hammond's InGen of course; but the InGen it had become after Hammond's passing. Her paranoia wasn't unfounded. She and Lowery had carried out extensive efforts in an attempt to break InGen's back; especially in recent weeks.

The problem was that they had ignored one very important fact: InGen was notoriously hard to kill. Jurassic Park hadn't done it, neither had the subsequent incidents with Site B. The events at Jurassic World hadn't even come close to destroying InGen because the folks at InGen had masterfully positioned themselves in a way that, gave them power without being able to be blamed in anything that might happen with Jurassic World. Masrani Corp had taken the majority of the blame, as had her management of the situation; which was deserved, even she had to admit to that. If she had just listened in the first place, the loss of life wouldn't have been nearly as bad.

But InGen still needed to pay for their crimes, even if the law had decided that they wouldn't issue a price. But the law wasn't the only entity at fault. The media, too, had failed. InGen had been hailed as heroes for their quick action in the wake of the ACU's failure.

Raw, hot anger momentarily chased away the chill of fear. Claire stepped heavily into a puddle, sloshing up a tidal wave of water. Her pants were washed in it, but she felt none of the chill as she had gone with waterproof, utility pants for this venture. Claire stomped one more time, this time with more force. It was childish, but also so very cathartic.

Her mood lifted slightly but not by much. At least she was no longer afraid and the boiling anger only simmered. She was ready to deal with whatever monsters lay in wait for her. Actually, she realized that she welcomed such a confrontation. If she died today, she'd provide enough fodder for Lowery's conspiracy nut friends to spread around. She'd read some of their work. They were good at making people see their side of things no matter how out there their theories were. Hell, they even had her believing in Big Foot for all of a second! Even if her death wasn't the destructive force to InGen it would certainly be the catalyst that set it off.

She slowed her walk as she approached the large green hedges that bordered the outdoor seating area. Once again she reached inside her anorak and found certainty that her gun was still there. She took a deep slow breath. If she died, the movement would go forward. Everything would be fine, no matter what happened in that place. And there was still the slightest chance that Selina managed to find her and genuinely wanted to talk. It was feasible. But still, not very likely. With that in mind she stepped out from behind the hedges and onto the walkway that led up to the only public entrance.

Selina wasn't waiting out front like she said she would be. And neither were InGen assassins. Instead, it was Owen that stood outside that door. Shaken more deeply than she had been after the phone call, she froze mid stride and stared at Owen as he stared back at her.

He stood, with arms crossed, in front of the door like a bouncer at an elite nightclub. The rain had gone from a gentle sprinkle to heavy handed dousing. His hair was plastered to his forehead, but he was unbothered as he glared at her with a mixture of anger and very vivid hurt.

"You should put your hood up." Claire said stupidly when the silence became unbearable, because she had no idea what else to say. What the hell was he doing here? How the hell had he found her? Those questions would have probably been the appropriate silence breaker, but she hadn't thought of it then. Oh well, it was too late now.

Owen stood unmoved. If he thought anything of her bizarre comment he didn't give any indication. Instead he expressed what was on his mind. "Where's Lowery? I'm going to kill him." He said morosely.

Claire winced at the malice in his voice. It bothered her that Lowery obviously had been blamed by everyone for Claire's decision to abandon her loved ones. "It's not his fault," Claire whispered quietly wishing that she could put more force behind her words. But Owen's hardened glare effectively hobbled her voice.

"It's not his fault that he got you mixed up in this shit?" Owen asked with an air of irony. "He's got you on InGen's hitlist."

Whether it was the absurdity of Owen's claims or the fact that he'd never hurt her she wasn't sure but, suddenly Claire found her voice again. His glare, though horrifying was nothing more than a bark. "I got myself on InGen's hitlist!" Claire snapped, "Lowery isn't Red Raptor. I am!"

Owen cracked a smirk and Claire immediately felt the burn in her cheeks. He hadn't known about that, clearly. "Red Raptor?"

"R-3-d R-4-p-t-0-r. It's the name I write under." She didn't dare say that the name had been Lowery's suggestion. She didn't want to solidify Owen's belief that it was Lowery who had dragged her into this fight and not the other way around. Lowery had initially resisted, when Claire had gone to him for help. But eventually she had gotten him to see her side of things.

Recognition touched Owen's features and he sneered. "Ah, right, the half-rate investigative blog against InGen."

Owen was clearly angry and in some ways hurt. She tried not to take his words personally. Tried and failed. "Excuse me. Do you know how much work I put into that? How many hours of—"

"I'm not here to talk about your blog, Claire!" Owen roared. "That's not why InGen has a bounty on your head. They don't even take your blog seriously. You can't hurt them with that."

Hurt, Claire glared at him.

Owen glared back for a moment before his eyes slowly began softening into reason. "You really don't know, do you?"

Claire shook her head numbly. The rain was finally beginning to soak into her skin as her hood had slid off her head.

"Holy shit." Owen mumbled under his breath though the notes of rage were still detectable. He leaned heavily against the stair railing and pressed the back of his fist to his mouth. Claire had a feeling any anger he had left was not at her; at least, for the moment. Her suspicions were confirmed when he looked at her again. This time she saw sympathy. "Look we'll talk about your escapades and why InGen wants you dead, later. Right now your friend Selina is in there waiting." He pointed over his shoulder at the oddly darkened café. "She's about to drop you down a pretty deep rabbit hole."

Owen pulled open the door and held it for her.

"Wait. What?" Claire asked indignantly. "You just show up here and yell at me for God knows what reason and you just expect me to go in there with you like this didn't just happen?"

Owen cracked a grin that actually chased the darkness, revealing, for just a moment, the most beautiful shade of green. "I can wait out here." He assured her, and then suddenly his eyes darkened again as if he remembered that he was angry with her. He was sure angry at something. "But for your sake, I think it's best that I go in there with you."

Instinct once again told her that the anger wasn't directed at her, yet. He really was trying to protect her and once again her paranoia began to push through. But if there was one person on this planet that she truly trusted, it was the man, who, for well over a year had lost sleep because she had been constantly waking up in terror. He'd always hold her close and hum softly in her ear or talk her ear off until she fell back asleep, even if it took hours. And then he'd still get up at the crack of dawn, go on his runs and have breakfast on the table by the time she willed herself to face the day (in the early days following Jurassic World he'd have to coax her out). She'd been a wreck and he had remained her safe harbor. Owen cared deeply about her, as she did him. She knew that nothing she did could change that.

"Fine."

Owen held out a hand to stop her as Claire started through the door. She looked up at him sharply, wondering what it was that he wanted now.

A small smile played on his lips even though his green eyes remained hardened. "I'm going to need both of your guns and the knife you keep sheathed on your ankle."

Claire opened her mouth to argue.

"Trust me."

It wasn't Owen's words that compelled Claire to reach into her anorak for her guns. It was the subtle way his expression wavered when he told her to trust him. For a moment, just a moment he had been beseeching her. He had to know that her trust wasn't an issue. Right? She trusted him with her life. He knew that. He should. But she remembered with a cold punch to the gut, that he had no reason to be sure of her trust anymore. She had left him without rhyme or reason. A move she had considered correct at the time. The best scenario for everyone.

She handed her weapons to him one at a time. He stuffed them in a duffle bag that Claire had earlier failed to see at his feet. The bag was bulging, ready to explode.

As she passed the knife to him, suddenly seized by a need to apologize for leaving and to explain why, she grabbed his wrist. Owen locked eyes with her at once and the words froze on her tongue. She couldn't do it. Nothing she could say or do could atone for what she had done. She had after all left him on the night that he had proposed to her. She had told him that she needed time to think and he had been nice enough to believe that. Instead she had taken the time to run because she thought she had been protecting him.

Owen gently pulled his wrist from her grasp and dropped his gaze. "She's waiting for you," He informed her flatly.

Claire clenched her jaw and swallowed the bile that burned in her throat. This whole situation made her sick with hate for herself. At the moment she found a bullet to the head preferable to the mess of this confrontation.

Without another word she walked passed him into the labyrinth of the monster that awaited her.