Chapter 5

It was not until he reached the bottom of the stairs, that what he just did started to sink in. He was so angry, so hurt, and so confused. He was not sure what to think or how to feel. Part of him wanted to scream. Another, a bigger part, wanted to punch something.

He gave her his ring.

He gave her his ring.

Oh god, he gave her his ring.

He was pacing the living room, but there was not enough space. The energy was building and he needed an outlet. Wanted to sprint as fast and as far as his body would let him. Wanted to fight someone or something (where's Hoskins when you need him?).

Pain in his left hand made him look down, and he realized he had got both hands clenched so tightly in fists, that his nails, even though he kept them short, were biting into the skin of his palm, knuckles white. He forced himself to release them. Started taking deep breaths and counting, in and out, as he continued to pace.

Going for a run, his preferred option, was out, what with the reporters still surrounding their place. And there's no one and nothing to fight. Not here, not at home.

Home. Oh god. It felt like someone (himself?) had stabbed him with a knife. Is this still his home? It is. It has to be. She wouldn't… No. He refused to let his mind go down that path. This was still their house. Their family. It was just a bump on the road. Everyone has those, right?

His fists were clenched again, and his breathing was becoming ragged. He really needed an outlet.

It was a testament to how fractured his thoughts were, that it took him that long to remember the home "gym" set up in the garage. It wasn't much – a weight bench, a pull up bar, and a treadmill. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was lacing up his running shoes. He turned on the treadmill, ignoring his normal warm up, and just kept his finger on the button upping the speed. Soon he was sprinting, but it still didn't feel like enough. He hand moved over to the incline button, and he pushed that up as well.

Finally, his lungs started to burn, sweat pouring down his face, and he felt like he was going to pass out. Grabbing weakly for the emergency stop button, he barely stayed on as it slowed to a stop. He was bent over, panting, desperately trying to catch his breath, and choosing to pretend it was only sweat sliding down his cheeks. When he managed to look up, the screen on the treadmill was blinking at him: 6 minutes 32 seconds. He choked on the hysterical laugh that tried to emerge. Was that it?

He stumbled off the treadmill, grabbing at a towel from a stack on the side (thanks to the ever organized Claire), rubbing it roughly over his face, before sinking down onto the weight bench. He rested his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He needed to pull it together.

He needed to figure out what he wanted.

Three and a half years ago, that question seemed so simple. To build his cabin. To do odd jobs. To stay far away from anything to do with dinosaurs.

Three years ago, the question still seemed simple, if a little more complex. For him and Claire and Maisie to be a family. To survive the recapturing and resettlement of the dinosaurs. To not let anyone find out about Maisie's true origins.

Six months ago, the question became hard. Sure, he still wanted his family. And he no longer thought about Maisie's origins. In fact, he enjoyed and loved most areas of his life. Except work.

There was nothing wrong with construction. He was good at it. He enjoyed working outside. And he liked (most of) the guys he worked with.

Then, one day, he'd been approached about a job. It was a way out of construction and a move closer to his roots in animal behaviour. The job wasn't guaranteed. A university wanted him to join and be a part of their research proposal. If they were chosen, he'd have a job for at least three years (and likely would be able to easily turn it into a future full-time position). If they weren't, well, no harm done.

Except it wasn't that simple. Nothing was ever simple anymore.

He debated the proposal for a couple of weeks. He talked with Barry and with his boss. He even talked with his dad. But he didn't talk to Claire. And he swore all of hem to secrecy. He wasn't sure if he was going to say yes. If he wanted to say yes. And he knew Claire would have strong opinions. He wanted to make the decision on his own.

He was the primary caregiver for Maisie. And for him to take on a new job, a job that would require more "traditional" hours, well, that would require some changes. Him becoming the primary caregiver hadn't happened on purpose; in fact, it had happened without any real conversation. It started because he was moving back to San Francisco and therefore didn't have a job (yet). And it was summer, so someone needed to stay home with Maisie. Then, when he started looking for a job, knowing what they needed and wanted (someone who could be home after school and take days off if Maisie was sick), influenced his job search.

At the beginning, he actually quite enjoyed it. Feeling needed and having a purpose had felt really good after his chosen break from society. But recently… well, recently, while he still loved the time he spent with Maisie, he had started to yearn for something more. He finally felt ready to start thinking about doing work with animals again (although, not dinosaurs). He felt ready to start putting his degrees to work. And he was starting to crave an intellectual pursuit.

The job offer was, in some ways, perfect timing. He hadn't been sure how to get his foot back in the door. Agreeing to be part of the proposal didn't actually commit him to anything up front. But that was six months ago, and the decision was suppose to come through any day now.

Which meant that now that was looming over him too, combined with Maisie being essentially "outed," the dinosaur field tests, and everything with Claire.

The day after the application was submitted, he knew he should've talked with Claire first. That she would be hurt and upset that he hadn't. That making the decision on his own was stupid. But then a day went by, and then a week, and he still hadn't told her. And every day that went by since made it harder to say something.

He felt so high strung most days he didn't know if he was reacting reasonably or overreacting. He didn't remember what it was like to not live under the current weight of this stress.

Sitting up, his right hand naturally gravitated to his left, fingers reaching for the ring that was no longer there. Twisting it around his finger had long been a nervous habit he'd developed. Its absence sent his heart rate skyrocketing again.

x x x

Claire woke with a start. Her hand immediately grabbing for her neck as she let out a groan. She was way too old to be falling asleep sitting up. It took a few more seconds before she remembered why she fell asleep where she did and she leapt to her feet, fist already banging against the door.

"Maisie?" She knocked a few more times. "Maisie, please answer me." She reached for the doorknob, but was unsurprised to find it still locked. Her knocking wass quickly turning more into banging, as she continually called through the door. "Maisie? Open the door. Mais…"

After a few minutes of no answer, she gave one (admittedly stupid) attempt of trying to break down the door by slamming into it with her shoulder. When it (unsurprisingly) didn't budge, she rushed down the stairs. There had to be someway through the door.

As she came off the bottom step, her gaze caught on the top of Owen's head, visible just over the arm of the couch. Changing direction, she headed for him. For a moment, seeing his face looking peaceful in sleep, she was reminded of the events of the previous night, her hand grabbing at her pocket where she can still feel his ring. But only for a moment – Maisie was more important than whatever was going on with them at the moment, and she grabbed his shoulder and started shaking.

"Owen. Wake up! Owen!"

"Wha?" Owen blinked up sleepily at her.

"She's not answering."

"Huh?" Owen still looked confused.

"Maisie. She won't answer me. And the door is still locked."

"Are you sure she heard you?"

"She had too. I'm surprised you didn't," Claire glared at him. "I need help opening her door."

Owen, stretching, got up from the couch and headed for the stairs. "Let me try."

She followed behind him, seething, as it was just like him to not take her word for it and insist on trying himself. It took a few minutes of him banging on Maisie's door and rattling the doorknob before he was convinced. "Do we have a key?"

Claire shrugged. "I have no idea. She's never locked the door before. I've never thought of having to get in."

Owen turned back to the door. "Maisie? Kiddo?" He gave her another moment to respond. "If you don't answer, I'm going to kick the door down." There was still silence, and when he turned to Claire, she gestured towards the door with a well, aren't you look.

He liked to think he was in good shape. He knew he was in good shape. But it still took him three kicks before he managed to force the door open. And then, he and Claire are standing in the room looking around in disbelief. Maisie was not there.

x x x

It was not until she collapsed into a seat, about a third of the way back on the bus, that Maisie actually realized that she was going to be able to pull it off. But it was only when the bus actually pulled away from the station that she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and sunk deeper into the seat, hugging her backpack tightly on her lap.

She had been so sure that Claire or Owen was going to pop up and catch her. Getting out her window and down the tree had been easier than she expected. Although the squeak her window made when she opened it had sounded like a bomb going off in the silence of the night. She had stood frozen at her window for a couple of minutes, expecting Claire to start knocking again.

After she reached the ground, it had been easy enough to grab her bike and wheel it along the path in the woods behind her house (and she was really glad she knew those woods like the back of her hand, or it would've been kind of scary in the dark). There had been a moment where she thought she saw movement at the news vans parked along the road in front of the house, but everything had remained silent. Once she emerged in the park on the other side, it was smooth sailing to the bus stop, where she'd carefully locked her bike up, before buying her ticket from a machine. And then she had followed closely behind a woman, who looked the right age to be her parent, onto the bus, letting the bus driver assume she was with her.

And now, now she was on her way to see Gray.

Opening her backpack, she caught sight of her phone and realized there was one piece she'd missed. She knew Claire and Owen could track her phone. But, she also knew they couldn't track it when it was off. Powering the phone down, she put it away and pulled out the book she'd packed. It was going to be a long 12 hours.

x x x

"Maisie?" Claire called out, even though she couldn't see the girl.

"Kiddo?" Owen added, moving farther into the room.

It took them only a few seconds to realize that no, she wasn't in her closet or under the bed, and there really wasn't anywhere else to hide. In unison, both of their eyes moved towards the window and watched as the curtain move slightly with the light breeze entering the room.

"I can't believe she ran away," Claire moaned, sinking down onto the bed.

"She wouldn't run away," Owen shook his head, moving towards the window.

"She was so upset Owen," Claire disagreed, head bent, one hand rubbing at her neck. When he didn't reply, she looked up, and he was standing by the window, his back to her. "So upset."

"I still don't think she'd run away," Owen insisted.

"You didn't hear her," Claire whispered. "She doesn't think I–" Claire's voice broke, unable to finish the sentence. She lifted her head and took a moment to look around the room. The bed she was sitting on was unmade, but that's not what stood out. "Her backpack is gone."

Owen finally turned away from the window and also gave the room a cursory look. Maisie was organized, a trait he liked to think she picked up from Claire, and most of her stuff was still in their rightful places. "Her book's gone," he nodded towards her bedside table, where normally whatever book Maisie was reading sat, "and I don't see her iPad or phone." Owen moved towards Maisie's desk, eyes catching on a piece of paper. He picked it up and skimmed it quickly, before holding it out to Claire. "She made a list."

"A list?" Claire accepted the piece of paper, also skimming it quickly.

"A packing list," Owen clarified. "She definitely takes after you – everything is checked off."

"I should've tried harder," Claire moaned, ignoring Owen's somewhat of a compliment, her head sinking back into her hands. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep when she was that upset."

"Her phone!" Owen suddenly exclaimed, ignoring Claire as he rushed to the door. He disappeared from sight before Claire could say anything and only moments later he was re-entering the room, head bent over his own phone. But, as quickly as his excitement came, frustration overrode his expression again. "She must have turned it off. I thought we could trace her. Why does she have to be so smart?"

Claire looked around the room again, before turning to Owen, "Where do you think she'd go?"

"I don't know. If she's turned off her phone she won't be at a friends," Owen sighed. "They would tell us."

"Iris?" Claire raised hesitantly as an option, before negating it herself. "No, Iris is on a cruise and she would tell us anyway." She looked around the room before moving towards the bookshelf and picking up Maisie's stuffed sock monkey, surprised it got left behind. "How are we going to find her?"

x x x

Five hours into the bus ride, the bus pulled into a larger station, and the driver announced that they would be there for a 20 minute break and that passengers were welcome to get off the bus if they wanted.

Maisie was starving. She hadn't thought about food when she was packing and she didn't keep anything in her room anyway, so there wouldn't have been anything to pack. And she'd been running on adrenaline at the bus stop in the morning, too worried about being caught, that she hadn't thought of grabbing something there either.

Finally, she was going to get her chance.

She grabbed her backpack and stuffed her book back into it, before following the other passengers off the bus. The station wasn't very big, just a counter for sales, a couple of vending machines and some restrooms. However, at this point, any food sounded good, so she headed straight for the vending machines, eyes skimming the choices. Almost $10 later she had a bag of chips, a chocolate bar, a package of skittles, and a can of soda.

She turned away from the vending machine, putting her backpack back on only to see someone staring at her. She ducks her head, trying to avoid the look, and headed back toward the bus. She only made it a few feet before she heard it.

"Maisie? Are you Maisie Lockwood?"

She didn't mean to look. She tried hard not to give any noticeable response to her name, but she couldn't help it. Her head immediately snapped up and towards the voice. It was the man who had been watching her. At her reaction, he stood up from his seat, and was moving towards her.

"Look," he called out, to who, Maisie was unsure. "Look, it's Maisie Lockwood." When his calls didn't get an immediate response he added, "She's the clone!"

Maisie had been speed walking away from him, but at this, she broke out into a run, heading for the doors and bursting back out into the sunlight. She started towards her bus, but she could hear people leaving the building behind her, and someone else calling her name. Her legs carry her past the bus, rounding around behind it and disappearing into the adjacent parking lot. She ran through it, only slowing down when she could no longer hear anyone behind her. She paused, somewhat hidden by a van, and looked back towards the bus station. To her dismay, her bus was pulling away from the curb. And even worse, there were some people who looked like they were searching the parking lot.

She opened her backpack and pulled out a hat and sweatshirt and yanked them on. A weak disguise, sure, but she didn't know what else to do. She then let her gaze sweep the area, and she realized that off to her right, there was a bit of a forest beside the parking lot. She headed for the cover of the trees.

x x x

"It's been hours, Owen," Claire was pacing the living room as Owen tried again to phone Maisie. "We need to do something."

"What do you suggest?" Owen snapped back. "You won't let me call the police."

"Yeah, because that will go over well," Claire rolled her eyes. "People know who she is. Her face is on the news. If they find out she ran away…" Claire trailed off, collapsing onto the couch. "There's no way the adoption will go through."

"Besides phoning her and texting her and hoping she'll turn her phone on, I don't know what else to do," Owen admitted. He didn't disagree with her reasoning. But as the hours ticked by and they heard nothing from Maisie, he wanted to be doing something more active. Like driving the streets in his truck and yelling out the window, even if, yes, he knew that wouldn't solve anything.

"I should've tried harder," Claire whispered from her spot on the couch.

"Claire," Owen sighed, "I don't think you've ever not given 100% to something. I don't know how you could try harder."

"I stopped knocking. I could've kept knocking and trying to get her to answer me."

"Only thing that would've done is made her more angry," Owen tried to remind her.

"She was so mad at me," Claire moaned. "She doesn't think I want her." For the first time that day, Claire stopped holding back the tears that had been building. "She thinks she's a disappointment, that I hate her."

Owen moved towards the couch, sitting down on the coffee table facing Claire. "Of course she doesn't think that. Maisie loves you."

"No," Claire shook her head. "She told me she doesn't think I want her. Said I should've left her with Iris. She doesn't love me. She loves you."

"Claire," Owen reached for her, but after the previous night, everything he would've done now feels awkward. He settled for resting his hands on her knees. "She was mad. Kids say all sorts of things when they're mad. I'm sure you told your parents you hated them when you were that age. It doesn't mean anything."

Claire knew Owen was trying to be comforting, but all she could focus on was his left hand, ringless, on her knee. The words he was saying sound muffled, as if he was speaking underwater. She could feel the ring burning a hole in her pocket, and all of a sudden it was too much. She jumped up from the couch, Owen's hands falling away, and she started pacing the room again as she brushed away her tears and grabbed her phone. "I'm going to call her again."

x x x

If it wasn't for the awkward interruption of the news program, and someone who happened to glance up to see what was happening, Zia was sure that the entire DPG team would've missed the live announcement. But as it was, they had the TV turned up loud, and everyone in the office was gathered around to watch.

"In breaking news, we have leaked footage from another dinosaur field test," the anchor announced excitedly. "We're being told… that this test took place sometime during the previous 24 hours. There aren't a lot of details known yet, including where the test took place, but we didn't want to wait to share it with all of you, our loyal viewers."

There was a groan that traveled the room at the anchors comments but their eyes stayed glued anyway.

The camera cut away from the anchor as the leaked footage was shared. It was clearly being recorded by someone on a cellphone, as the image wobbled all over the place, somewhat nauseatingly. Slowly, they were able to make out that the video was being shot somewhere in a treed area. Not a forest – it wasn't dense enough for that – but there are a fair number of trees. There were glimpses of some military looking vehicles.

Then there was a scream. A scream that Zia and Franklin recognized. The type of scream they heard that night at the Lockwood Estate. The type they would never forget. A scream of terror. A scream that was cut-off midway through, as the owner was no longer alive to finish it. Zia and Franklin shared a quick horrified look, before their gaze cut back to the TV.

Now it was clear that whoever was holding the phone was running. Trees were going by until, at some point, the person fell, as the video showed a close up of grass before going dark. Then it was picked up again, and they got their first glance of the dinosaur. It was in the middle of chomping down on the head of some person, before tossing the rest of the body to the side, before the dinosaur continued its charge forward.

"What is that?" someone in the group asked, and they all crane their heads close to the TV. It was hard to focus on it, as the camera kept bobbing and weaving, the dinosaur cutting in and out of the frame.

"I think it's an Allosaurus," one person replied. A couple chime in with agreement.

"Wait," someone else spoke up. "I don't think so. Did anyone see that shot of its foot? There was a big toe claw. Like a velociraptor."

"Really?" another answered, sounding doubtful. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Are we recording this?" Zia asked the room. The video has ended and the camera was back on the news anchor, who was looking a little green.

"Well, we didn't realize it was going to be quite that… gruesome," the anchor apologized. "We're going to return to our regular programming, but we'll let you know more when we know more."

"Yeah, we've recorded it," Franklin nodded, holding out the remote.

"I want to see it again," Zia grabbed the remote from him, and started to scroll through the footage, looking for clear shots of the dinosaur to stop on. The first one she found was a pretty decent side view. Pausing on it, the group gave it a good look. "Definitely an Allosaurus," Zia agreed. She continued scrolling through the video, looking for the foot shot that someone had mentioned. When she found it, she paused again. There were a couple of gasps through the room. "Okay," Zia added, "it's mostly an Allosaurus."

"Not again," Franklin sighed.

x x x

The bit of forest turned out to be really only a few trees that separated the parking lot from a residential area. Maisie had looked wistfully at her phone, as she tried to figure out where to go, wanting to open up Google Maps.

She wandered the streets for a little while before she came across a playground. She headed for the swings. Sitting down, the swing barely moving under her, she tried to decide what to do next. This wasn't working out like she had planned.

Pulling her phone out again, she stared at it. She knew what she needed to do, but really wished she didn't have to. She held down the button, waiting for it to turn on. As she waited, her gaze focused on a couple out for a walk with their dog. They were also pushing a stroller and accompanied by a young kid on a tricycle. The man was pushing the stroller with one hand while the other was holding woman's hand. She envied them. They looked so happy. Didn't they know what was happening? That her world was falling apart?

Before she could spend another second thinking about them, her phone started vibrating like crazy, and she watched as notice after notice for missed calls, voicemails, and text messages come flooding in. They're almost all from Claire and Owen. As they stream by, she only managed to read occasional words and phrases. She saw I love you and call us, along with kiddo and where are you.

She unlocked her phone and opened the call screen. Her index finger hovered – who should she call? Closing her eyes, she stabbed down, opening them to see the phone ringing. It was answered almost immediately.

"Maisie?"

As always, thanks so much for the reviews. It definitely keeps me going to read them (I look back at them when my motivation is low). And to know that many of you are really feeling the emotions they're all going through is the biggest compliment I could get. Thanks!

x x x

I want to recommend another author. This time Nadin4400. She has so many amazing clawen pieces.

All Things Lost and Broken takes place post JW and sends Claire back to the island, where it turns out Owen is too (things didn't go so great for them right after JW). It's both a story of them coming back together, but also a potential outcome for the park. I also highly recommend is Rearrange the Stars where, in attempt to keep Owen at the park and Claire's job they agree to pretend to be engaged (also Owen is Canadian in this fic, which gives it extra bonus points). This one is definitely a humorous and lighthearted journey. Nadin has an amazing collection of one shots called One Day Soon You Will Be Mine, over on AO3. I don't think there's a single one of the 87 that I don't like. There's a zillion more of hers I could recommend.

She does have some that are left incomplete (you can check their status before reading) and but I still have hope that she may finish them. And that you guys can help me out with getting her to do so, by writing her reviews and letting her know that there are many of us waiting and hoping.