We're In This Together
Chapter One

Claire knew something was wrong when she woke up to see sunlight peeking around her blackout curtains. She always woke up before the sun rise, and seeing sunlight crawling across her carpet made her uneasy. A quick glance at the clock on her nightstand revealed she had slept an hour past her alarm.

"You have got to be kidding me!" She grasped at her phone to check if she set the alarm, only to see it was completely dead. Claire muttered various profanities under her breath as she followed the cord to her charger, only to find it was half unplugged from the wall. She muttered all the curses she knew under her breath as she untangled herself and jumped from the bed.

Another quick glance at the clock confirmed she had time for a shower, but did not have time to wash her hair. Hopefully her hair wasn't greasy, and she could get away with a quick brush and spritz of hairspray. Unfortunately, a glance in the mirror after her quick shower revealed her hopes were too high.

She grumbled as she sprayed the dry shampoo in her hair. Claire had never had reason to use it since college, but thankfully her prepared nature dictated she keep a can for emergencies. That didn't mean she couldn't hate every moment the powder touched her ginger strands. It always made it stiff, odd smelling, and worst of all messed with the color of her hair.

Eventually she made it out the door only a few minutes past her usual departure time, and entered her office on time. Zara was already busy at her desk, a pile of packets waiting on the corner for Claire to grab. She nodded thankfully at her assistant for the packets, as well as the hot coffee she could already see on the desk. She had been meaning to get around to filling out the paperwork to give Zara a raise, and the delicious coffee hitting her tongue prompted her to scribble the idea down on a post it note.

Fifteen minutes into her morning routine of pacing around while talking on the phone with potential investors, her heel broke. Claire wanted to hit something at this point. Those were her favorite pair of heels— she had been wearing them the day she landed the position Zara currently held, and when she was promoted to manager. She knew they were bound to break eventually despite their still-new appearance.

Once again she was thankful for her tendency to plan ahead, and slipped out of her shoes to retrieve the back-up heels sitting in the bottom of her 'extras' drawer. They were stiff from lack of use. Claire grimaced, knowing her feet would be red and sore by the time she finally went back to her apartment.

Things finally began to look up as she walked into a meeting with the heads of the various departments. Everything up to that point had been going smoothly. All the investors she had talked to that morning made generous offers, allowing the construction of the new paddock 11 to begin almost a year earlier than planned. Her shoes weren't as irritating as she believed they would be, and no one had called from control, meaning there had been no issues with the containment units or their inhabitants.

If there was something Claire was particular about, it was the containment of all the assets. Irresponsible planning had caused the tragedy of the original park, and she did not even want to imagine the PR nightmare and hordes of lawyers she would have to deal with if such an event ever happened again. Last time the blame had been solely on John Hammond and the group of people involved small— the accident had been kept under wraps easily. Masrani would be completely useless in a legal situation, and would leave Claire to relay between lawyers.

Despite the good run of luck she was having, Claire hadn't had time to eat anything and the stress of the morning started a small, yet annoying headache. If she wasn't careful it could easily turn into a very bad headache and eventually a migraine. Not that she couldn't handle either situation, but when she was this busy it was an inconvenience.

As the department heads filed in to take their seats, Claire looked through her files to review the meeting topics. Her blood ran cold as soon as she realized she had grabbed the wrong manila envelope. This folder held her statistics on the gyro sphere's satisfaction ratings since the seat upgrades, not the points they needed to review for each individual program. She briefly entertained the idea of running back to her office to retrieve the file, but quickly discarded it. She would only get hot, sweaty, and out of breath and ultimately appear disheveled. She could fake her way through this, and avoid losing her composure.

Okay Claire, you can do this without the notes. You've looked it over a million times before today, just think.

The meeting was probably the longest of her life, but she managed to get through it without messing up. All problems new and old had been worked out without too much arguing, and everyone left the meeting happy. Except for Claire, because her headache had officially progressed into migraine territory.

She had been packing up to leave her office when the shrill ringing off her phone pierced her ears. She glanced at the screen with all intents on ignoring the caller with two exceptions: Simon Masrani and the control room. She almost cried in frustration as she saw Simon's name on the screen.

Mr. Masrani's phone call made her headache double, and her mood become much worse. He had some concerns about the budget increase request with the raptor paddock. What confused Claire about the situation was that Simon was concerned they weren't asking for enough money, and wanted her to make sure the employees were happy with their pay and the raptors were happy— whatever that meant. After Claire asked who she needed to see, her mood officially hit its lowest point in her time managing the park.

When she got to her car to make the long drive to the paddock, her car decided it wasn't going to start. For a moment Claire thought this could be the break she had wanted all day, but once the engine finally turned over she groaned, and accepted she would have to talk to the one employee she'd rather avoid.

"Dearing, how nice to see you!" His stupid grin made Claire want to punch something. He worked with the most dangerous dinosaur known to mankind, and yet he was smiling like he wasn't in danger of being eaten every day. Or in danger of having his teeth knocked out at the current moment.

"Mr. Grady. I'm here to discuss your budget request for the assets, if we may." She gestured to his office, wanting to get the whole thing over with. By this point her migraine had crossed the threshold into a mega migraine. Her vision had narrowed down into a tunnel some time ago, but it was nothing she couldn't deal with until she got back to her apartment. If she didn't get nauseous she would be fine.

"Oh, uh yeah I went back through and tried to find things the girls could deal without." Surprisingly he pulled out her chair for her before taking his own seat. The office had been straightened up since the last time she had visited, but there was still a plethora of various sports balls restrained in nets on the walls. She found herself staring at them until he cleared his throat.

"The toys were something I was willing to negotiate out of the budget. The girls don't really need them, they're more along the lines of toys for fun, not training." Claire blinked a few times, trying to get her mind back on track. She contemplated asking the lights to be turned out or dimmed, but that would be admitting she was weak or he would take it as an innuendo. Neither were scenarios she felt like dealing with.

"Actually, Mr. Masrani has agreed to your budget proposal. He's concerned if you need more money and aren't asking for it. He wants to ensure maximum satisfaction of his employees and assets, Mr. Grady." She didn't miss his wince at the word 'assets'.

"It's Owen, and are you serious right now? Simon wants to give us more money? We're more than happy with our salaries, but the girls could use some more food. If they had more food they would be able to withstand longer periods of training." Claire hummed her acknowledgement, scribbling down notes as Owen spoke.

"What kind of food are you talking about?"

"They're partial to pork and beef, and occasionally a chicken to chase around the paddock for fun." She continued to write, not looking up.

"Are you okay?" Claire looked up, fighting to focus her eyes on the man in front of her. She had been swaying in the seat without noticing it.

"I'm fine. Now back to the raptors, are there any complaints about the safety of the other employees or a need for longer breaks?"

"No, the construction of the catwalk made everything better. Well actually, the installation of a few harnesses for the catchers would be nice. One of the new guys was almost pulled over the railing trying to grab one of the shredded balls with a long hook, and a harness would keep them from falling into the pen." She nodded again, scribbling down the words 'harness for catchers' in a random margin.

For another hour, Claire trailed behind Owen as he went through the safety protocols and tested some of the last line defenses should the raptors try to escape.

Eventually she had all the information she needed and bid Owen goodbye before walking back to her car. Unfortunately, Owen had been watching her walk and noticed the slight stagger in her step. Despite her assurances that she was fine during their talk, he knew something was up.

Usually she was alert and sharp as a tack, but she hadn't even acknowledged his stupid jokes that always made her angry. A bad feeling came over him as he watched her yank on the handle a few times before figuring out it was locked. Claire remembered everything, especially something as trivial as locking her doors.

"Hey, wait up. I don't think you should drive." Owen jogged over, reaching Claire as she finally got her doors unlocked and turned to glare at him. She was very pale, and her pupils were fully dilated. The slight swaying of her body made up his mind, damned be the consequences. He snatched the keys from her hand, and began to guide her to the passenger side.

Claire voiced a few quiet complaints, but surprisingly didn't fight him once she was seated. He drove for a little while, before getting around to asking her which building she lived in. They hadn't made it very far, not even past the road that led to his own home.

"Claire, I need you to tell me where you live."

"Pull over." It was the first thing she had said since he took the wheel.

"Claire, I can't just let—"

"Please pull over!" She sounded desperate, so he listened. As soon as he stopped, Claire bolted out the door and hit the ground on her knees. Retching sounds echoed through the forest as he rounded the car, making Owen wince. Claire weakly tried to push him away as he held her hair back from her face and gently rubbed her back. Owen was sure by this point that she was suffering from a migraine. She must have skipped eating, and probably had a stressful day on top of it.

Once she stopped retching, Owen placed her back in the car and took off in the direction of his bungalow. He obviously was not going to get a response from the now unconscious woman, and asking around where she lived was probably asking for trouble. Not only due to the gossip that would spread, but he would be in physical danger once Claire was feeling better. If anyone could do a roundhouse kick in high heels, it would probably be her. He wasn't willing to find out how sharp those shoes she always wore really were.