Owen mustered what little energy he had left to keep his eyes from closing as he watched Claire fumble the hotel key into the door of the room her sister had got for them. Well it had been a room her sister had got for Claire, but he'd found himself walking with the red head anyway, and now stood with his hand in hers, their fingers tangled together. She hadn't objected, just like he hadn't objected when her nephews and sister had brought up the subject of him being her boyfriend. He hadn't got the energy to think about anything other than collapsing in a heap and finally falling asleep.
As he heard Claire finally unlock the door he let out a long sigh, his body having gone mostly numb as a result of the wide mix of stress and emotion it had been through over the previous twenty hours or so. Daylight seeped through the large windows of the cool, clean hotel room. Owen hadn't been in anything so expensive looking since his interview for the position of raptor trainer. He began walking slowly into the suite, hearing the door close behind him. He knew Claire was still beside him, having walked with him, as he still held onto her hand and she onto his. Both adults still had no idea what to do. Right now it was a toss-up between each having a shower or simply collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep.
Owen looked down to his right to see that Claire was already looking up at him. He thought she had looked exhausted earlier but now that they were finally somewhere they could rest she looked even more exhausted. He somehow mustered the energy to give her a grin, squeezing her hand as he did so. He really didn't know what more he could do. He noticed she was nodding slightly, her small smile mirroring his, though he wasn't sure why. He watched as she turned back to the room, noticing the large bed towards the back of the room and he heard her groan slightly:
"Why are the sheets so white?" he let out a quiet laugh as Claire complained rhetorically with a tired tint to her voice. "I can't fall asleep on that in this state." He watched her walk towards the back of the room, shrugging off the blanket that had been around her shoulders and lightly glazing her fingertips along the surface of the crisp white bedsheets longingly. It wasn't until he was watching her do this that he realised she had let go of his hand, and it wasn't until this that he realised he missed the feel of her hand.
"Go have a shower. A hot shower. As hot as you can cope with." He began walking towards her as he spoke, she on the other hand had frozen, watching him from over her shoulder as she faced the open door of the bathroom beside the bed. "Take as long as you need then I'll go in after you." He continued.
"You smell worse than I do though." Owen couldn't help but laugh at her response, loving that she hadn't lost her sharp sense of humour, and he watched as her smile grew across her face. Her eyes, though tired, seemed to sparkle at the sound of his laughter.
"I know. Which is why you won't want to use the shower after me. Am I right?" He watched Claire give a small nod, and he noticed that her smile had faded. He watched her turn to the door of the bathroom and make her way through to the toilet, sitting on the closed seat. She hadn't even closed the door, which gave Owen the impression that her exhaustion was far greater than he'd first thought.
He approached the door and watched as the woman before him slipped her left heel from her foot with a wince. He hadn't seen blisters and cuts like that in a long time, not since his navy training days, and he knew how much they hurt. What hurt him the most at that moment though was the look on her face. The look of pain, exhaustion, concern. Owen thought that if anyone had turned to him when he'd woken the previous morning and told him that not only would he have almost been eaten alive by rampaging dinosaurs but that he would have gone through the whole experience with the head-strong, stubborn, organised Claire Dearing by his side, he would have laughed in their face. Loudly. And then laughed even louder if they continued to tell him that she would have saved his life. More than once. And he would have had to send them away if they finished what they were telling him by informing him that not only had he kissed her in a spur of the moment on the island, but that he would end up being unable to entertain the idea of leaving her once they had left the island together.
But that was how he felt now. He watched her look up at him, and when he saw her try to give him a reassuring smile he knew that there was definitely no way he would be leaving her. Owen began to walk over to her, and he felt a sharp pain running up his right leg that he hadn't noticed before. He had noticed it aching, but it hadn't been a pain like this. He had barely reached out his hand before she clung to it, and they worked together to help her stand. He noticed her wince as he brought a hand to her back and he wondered if she had as many cuts and bruises on her back as she did have on her arms and legs. He sharply brought his hand away, stepping over the discarded heels.
"Didn't I tell you those heels would be a bad idea?" He hoped that she would laugh at his joke, but instead she sighed, tired and weak. He wasn't offended, he understood how she felt, and walked with her towards the shower cubicle, trying to support her weight as much as she allowed him to. Owen reached into the shower, turning it on and holding out his hand to feel the temperature of the water. He looked up at the shower head, impressed by the strong pressure of the water. He knew this was going to be the best shower he had ever had, but the water pressure wasn't going to make it even better. He hoped that after a long hot shower and some good sleep Claire would begin to look and feel better. He looked down to his right to see her looking up at him. He couldn't read her expression because she looked so tired.
"That should be the right temperature." He found himself saying, "I'll give you some privacy." She looked as though she needed a good cry, and could understand that the shower would be the best place for her to be if she did. He knew she was a private person. That she didn't often let her guard down, and that he may be the only person in her whole life who had ever seen her looking so vulnerable. So as she shot him a grateful smile, he turned and limped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Owen went to sit on the edge of the bed but stopped himself, having realised just how smelly he was. He would never forgive himself if he messed up the white sheets that Claire had so longingly looked at. So instead he walked over to the nearby chair, perching on its firm seat and trying to ease his own boots off. Miraculously his feet were in fairly good condition and he was grateful that he had put on his worn-in boots for work the previous morning. His feet were nowhere near as bloodied and battered as Claire's were.
He rose his head, listening out for any signs of any tears, but there were none. All that sounded was the noise of the shower water running over Claire's body, and he wondered if she were just stood under the shower head, much like he intended on doing.