Author's Note

I love it when it's an update day. Makes my day so much better. So, this chapter is one of my favorites. As you can guess from the chapter title, it's sick!Liv, not hurt!Liv like some of you were hoping for, but we still got some protective!Owen in it. And yes, I know that with most mutant healing factors the mutant can't get sick...but I don't care, I like sick!Liv.

Alright, go onward and enjoy!


Sick

School ends.

Summer begins and Liv tries to convince her mom to allow her to spend more time on the island with Vic, really meaning Owen and the raptors, but her mom refuses. Her mom may not really care about her but she's not about to give Vic even an inch when it comes to her custody.

But summer vacation fades quickly anyway.

The more serious raptor training begins and it's slow going. Owen may be their alpha but the raptor squad is as rebellious as a couple of teenagers a lot of the time. There is still progress though. They respond to the sound of his voice and whistles, though not always doing what he wants them to, and he introduces them to a clicker. It's a rectangular piece of plastic smaller than the palm of his hand with a metal tongue that makes a clicking noise when pressed. Clicker training is used a lot with dogs, among other animals, in order to help the animals know they've done what the trainer wants them to. Owen gives a command and when the raptors do it right he makes the clicks and then gives them treats. They associate treats with good behavior, the clicker with treats, and then, after a lot of practice, the clicker with good behavior so that hearing the noise is as good as getting a treat to them, letting them know they did good. This way, they start to rely on treats less heavily and also start to build on the simple commands Owen's taught them so far.

As the summer begins to wind down, the raptors getting to be the size of small ponies, they still have a hard time listening. Sure, they have their good days, like that day Liv got them to listen to her with the rats, but they are very few and far between. It really is the rebellious teenage stage.

Liv watches over it all with a smile, though, and when she lets the auras overlap her vision, she can see the bond being forged between the raptors and with Owen, getting stronger and thicker, the orangish-red color more defined, as time passes. Her own bond with them is getting stronger, too. She hasn't tried training with them again, still unsure of where she stands with them exactly, but they still watch her whenever she's around.

Before she knows it, school is fast approaching again. She has her yearly check-up with a medical doctor kept on staff on the island, someone Vic trusts not to rat her out as being X-gene positive. It's nothing much, just a normal physical exam to make sure she's healthy. They draw blood. They give her a shot, for tetanus or something like that, she forgets as soon as she's told. She hates needles, wishes she could hiss and bite like the raptors when they get a check-up, but instead endures it quietly. Vic hovers during the entire examination and he would do a lot worse than just hiss and bite at her if she complains. After a couple of pokes and prods the doctor declares her healthy and she books it out of medical as fast as she can.

So, of course, two weeks later when Liv is just about to return to the island, she gets sick.

School doesn't start for another couple weeks and she's basically stuck at home whenever she's at her mom's, leaving her wondering when she could have picked something up, but she's definitely getting sick. It starts to really take hold the night before she boards the plane. There's a bone-deep ache all throughout her body, her nose is stuffed up with congestion, and her throat is a little sore. Nothing too serious, really, so she decides to call it an early night after packing, hoping to feel better after a good few hours sleep.

Except by morning she feels worse. So much worse.

She can't breathe through her nose at all, it feels like her throat is on fire, her stomach hurts, and the aching has started up in her head now too. She might also have a fever but it's hard to tell without a thermometer. She doesn't know where it is, doesn't even want to move from her bed.

Her mom already left for work sometime before Liv even woke up. She tries calling both her parents, trying to get permission to stay where she is, but no one answers. If she decides on her own to skip her weekend with Vic it will mean serious repercussions from both her parents, but she dreads the thought of traveling for hours like this. She calls Vic again but still no answer. Holding back tears of frustration, she pulls on the comfiest clothes she can find, sweat pants, a baggy t-shirt, over-sized hoodie, and sneakers, and grabs her backpack full of supplies for the weekend. The doorman to the building calls her a cab, so she doesn't have to bother with it herself, and she heads to the airport, though stopping at a drugstore for some cold medicine first.

The plane ride is awful. She's never thrown up on a plane before, not even her first time flying, but it's a near thing. The helicopter ride from the mainland to the island isn't much better.

Thankfully, she finds Vic in the Control Room. She shuffles over to him, backpack feeling heavier on her shoulders than normal, and tugs at the back of his shirt to get his attention instead of waiting for him to notice her like she usually does. He ignores her at first but she's insistent, tug, tug, tug.

Suddenly, he whirls around, hands on his hips and brimming with annoyance. "What?"

"I don't feel good," she mumbles, throat getting really irritated whenever she talks.

"Speak up, Olivia," he snaps.

"I'm sick," she says, louder this time, and her throat hates her for it. She swallows but it feels like there are rocks in her throat.

Vic's eyes examine her up and down, taking in her flushed face and miserable expression, but there's no concern in it. He's distant, analytical, not the father she needs right now. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he takes it out, glancing at the screen then back at her before putting it away. He bends down, placing his hands on her shoulders, and she thinks that, for once, he's going to actually help her.

"Look, Olivia," he says, voice filled with false-apology, and her heart plummets, "I know you don't feel good but there's nothing much I can do. Just go to your room and get some rest. Rest is the only thing that will help." His phone vibrates again and he straightens. "I've got to get back to work. You'll be fine on your own."

And then he leaves, phone pressed to his ear before he even hits the elevator.

The phone that he answers for everyone other than her, apparently.

Looking up at the ceiling, Liv tries desperately to hold in her tears. She doesn't feel good, actually feels worse after all of that traveling when really she should have been resting back at her mom's place and not going anywhere at all.

And, most importantly, she doesn't want to be alone.

Misery really does love company. It's practically written into human DNA. When a human is miserable, especially when sick, they seek someone else out to be with them until it's over, just to have a reminder that everything is going to be okay and that, eventually, it will be over. She wants someone to stay with her, even if it's Vic. He's her dad. He may not be the fluffiest person in the world, but he's still her dad and he should be the one taking care of her.

The elevator arrives again, depositing some of the techies who work at the computer stations, and she shoulders past them to ride the elevator down, fingering the necklace beneath her shirt.

Her real dad may not want to take care of her but there's someone else who might.

The ride on her ATV to the Research Center is a little precarious. It's getting hard for her to stay focused and halfway there she has to pull over to vomit. It doesn't make her stomach feel any better. She makes it, though, and when she gets there the door to the cage is opened. She heads over, thinking Owen might be in there, but the cage is empty, like someone was just there and stepped away for a moment. She slips inside anyway.

The inner gate is closed and through the bars she can see the paddock door closed as well, so she knows the raptors are somewhere inside among the trees and underbrush without any humans in there with them. She suddenly wishes her throat was better so she could call out to them, try to make them come to her, but after hacking up the contents of her stomach earlier it feels like she won't be able to speak above a whisper if she tries.

It doesn't matter though. Either they heard her or smelled her or something, Liv doesn't know, but some bushes at the edge of the clearing start to rustle and then there they are, all four of them, staring at her. She smiles and waves a little, not really expecting them to do anything, but they actually come over to her. Her breath hitches. She's never gotten very close to them since the day they were born, not like the trainers do. No one's let her, for her safety, which she understands, but she can feel a kind of pull towards them from the bond. She wants to get close to them.

And now they're coming close to her, stopping a few feet away from the cage.

It's a bad idea, she knows this, but she wraps her hands around the bars anyway, pressing herself as close as possible. The raptors cock their heads at her curiously, making those small little chitters like they're talking quietly amongst themselves. They step closer still, Blue ahead of the others and her nostrils flaring, taking in Liv's sent. Liv stares into those big eyes of hers, knowing she should be afraid, waiting for the feeling to come, but it never does. She's not afraid of these animals that can tear her apart, that can chomp her hand off right now if they wanted to. They're fast enough to do it before she even has a chance to move.

Instead, she just has this undeniable urge to hold her hand out and pet Blue's snout.

Before she even has a chance to actually contemplate doing it a quiet, cautious voice says behind her, "Liv, I need you to back up very slowly."

She grimaces, only the raptors being able to see her face. She doesn't want to listen to Owen but figures she better, both for his peace of mind and just in case her instincts are messed up and Blue really is about to bite off her hand despite whatever bond they share. Liv doesn't think she is though, so she whispers "See you later" and backs up slowly to join Owen outside the cage.

He slams the door shut once she's out, pressing and holding the button that locks it with a solid clang. He then turns on her with a disapproving storm brewing in his eyes. "What the hel…heck…." She would laugh at his blundering attempt not to swear in front of her but she's too tired. He shakes his head in frustration. "What were you thinking? These raptors aren't like the herbivores in the petting zoo, Liv. They can seriously hurt you."

"They weren't going to hurt me," she protests feebly, coming out sounding kind of choked. "And I was looking for you."

He opens his mouth to retort but it catches in this throat as he seems to really take her in. He instantly flips from anger to concern. "Are you alright, Liv?"

She shakes her head, feeling the tears returning and her lower lip wobbling, and she hopes he understands just by her pleading look because she doesn't want to talk anymore, it hurts too much. He steps close, tilts her chin up with a finger, and touches her forehead with the back of his hand. She closes her eyes, sighing slightly in bliss. His hand feels good, cool.

"Jeez, Liv, you're burning up," Owen exclaims softly, going swiftly past concern to all out worry. "Does your dad know you're sick?"

She nods.

He blinks incredulously. "And he didn't do anything?"

She shakes her head and keeps hoping, praying, Owen won't do the same, that he won't be like Vic and just leave her to fend for herself, don't be like Vic, please don't be like Vic, please….

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her towards the Research Center. "Everything's gonna be okay, Liv. It'll be okay."

She melts into his side, wishing she could tell him thank you, but can't, her throat too far gone. The raptors let out a series of barks and she looks back at them. They almost look worried as well, but she figures she's just projecting.

Inside, Owen sits her down on the chair at his desk and heads towards the kitchen, grabbing a towel and wetting it in the sink. When he returns to her side he holds out the wet cloth to her and directs her to lean back and place it on her forehead. It feels good, but not enough to combat the burning heat she feels growing inside her as the sickness rages on. Owen leans over her, stroking her hair back away from her face, and she closes her eyes. Some of the tension she's been carrying since Vic turned her away seeps out of her, like squeezing a sponge. She's not alone now. She doesn't have to go through this alone. Owen will take care of her.

The front door opens, the hinges squeaking loudly, and heavy footsteps approach. "Owen," a deep voice says, one she recognizes as Barry's, "what's going on?"

"Liv is sick," Owen says, crisp as crackling autumn leaves. He's angry, but she's not sure at who. Everything's getting kind of fuzzy.

"Does her father know?"

"Yeah, but apparently he just brushed her off." There's a pause, movement, and then the tones of a cell phone dialing. "I'm calling him."

"And what will you say? There is nothing that will actually make him take care of her."

"I don't care. I have to try. This isn't right." The call connects and Owen jumps right in without greeting. "Vic, you know Liv is sick, right?"

She can't make out the response. She's kind of glad she can't, already afraid of what Vic will do to her for going to Owen for help instead of doing what she was told and going back to her room.

"She's your daughter!" Owen yells, angrier than she's ever heard him. "You can't just dump her on her own when she's sick." A lengthy pause. "Fine, I'll take care of her myself."

Liv's eyes crack open at that, watching Owen hang up on Vic before he can respond. His brow is creased with lines of anger and frustration, but for once a face like that isn't directed at her. When he sees her watching him his face clears away and he smiles, though his eyes hold a weary exhaustion from dealing with Vic.

"Owen, what are you doing?" Barry asks. "You can't just take care of her yourself."

The frustration comes back in the tense line of Owen's shoulders as he faces off against Barry. "Yeah? And why not?"

"Because she is Vic's daughter, not yours. He will not take kind to this."

"Well, that's too bad." Owen reaches down and Liv lets out a startled squeak when he picks her up, one arm around her shoulders and another beneath her knees. Her face feels even hotter than before, though she can't tell if it's from the fever or a blush of embarrassment, and she lost the cloth on the way up. He lifted her like she weighs nothing. "I'm not just going to leave her."

"And if he decides he is not happy with this?" Barry gestures to Liv and Owen with his hands. "With you just taking over as the girl's father? What do you think he'll do?"

Liv's arms snake around Owen's neck but she doesn't look at either of them. Do they know? Do they know how Vic can be to her? There's no possible way, not with her healing mutation, but Vic isn't exactly the kindest person. They've seen his anger. Perhaps they simply fear that anger will be turned on her? They just don't know to what extent. Or how often it usually is. And it will be excessive this time, if he takes this as Barry suggests he will.

She wishes Vic wasn't her father. She wishes Owen really was. That is a secret Vic must never know because the consequences will be greater than even she will be able to withstand.

Owen tightens his grip on her and she looks up. There's questions in the clenching of his jaw and the way his eyes bore into hers, like he can penetrate all her defenses through sheer force of will alone and find the answers himself. For one moment, she contemplates just handing them to him, but she can't. It will only lead to more questions, questions she wishes to avoid.

If she tells him about the...abuse...he will ask why there are no signs. There are no marks, no bruises. If she tells Owen about the things her father has done to her, she will be forced to tell him about her mutation as well. So few people are accepting of mutants, their fear of the strange and unknown taking hold as has happened time and time again throughout history. They wish mutants rounded up and cataloged, placed in cages like these dinosaurs. Some even wish mutants to be killed, fearing they will rise up against the normals.

She knows there are some normal people who are accepting of mutants, who believe mutants shouldn't be feared just because they're different, that everyone should have equal rights, normals and mutants alike, but they are few. So, so few.

On which side will Owen fall?

She diverts her eyes with a strange sense of shame, even though it's for her own safety. She hears and feels Owen sigh and she cringes, thinking he's not going to help her now.

"Whatever happens, I'll just have to protect her," Owen says instead and she looks at him in surprise. "It isn't right, Barry. He's doing nothing to help her and she shouldn't have to do this on her own. I mean, just look at her. Does she really look well enough to take care of herself right now?"

Barry looks at the pair of them for a long time, eyes lingering on her. And then the fight drains out of him. "Okay," he sighs. "You're right. Vic is not completing his duties as her father, making her suffer like this." He gives Liv an apologetic smile. "None of this is fair to you, little one. You should not be burdened with so much so young. If Owen is willing to take care of you in the way that Vic should, then I will stand by him. I will stand by you both."

Liv smiles, wet and blurry. Why, why must her throat hurt so much? There is no way she can ever thank them enough but she can't even at least say the words. And gaining Barry as an ally is something that needs much thanks.

Barry jerks his chin towards the door. "Go. If Vic comes looking for her, I will handle it." He reaches out a hand and squeezes her arm reassuringly. "You will be alright, little one. We will make sure of it."

Relief washes over her, cooler than the wet cloth and feeling so much better. As Owen carries her off she closes her eyes and rests her head on his shoulder, trusting him to take things from here.

The squelching heat of the fever takes a tighter hold, making it hard to focus on anything outside of her own body. Reality shatters into shards of glass and she only catches slivered glimpses.

There's the feel of a leather seat beneath her and the gentle rocking of a car on the dirt road.

Soft sheets on her burning skin.

Another cool cloth on her brow.

A hand tilting her head up to drink something vile. Followed by water to help quench the aftertaste and the burning heat. But still the heat rages on.

She thinks she sleeps for a while, because the next time she remembers anything solid it is the pitch darkness of night outside the window. The window and surrounding wall are unfamiliar and for one brief second panic overtakes her. She's still wearing the same comfy clothes she remembers putting on, so that's good, but where is she?

Then she hears a loud snore. In the soft glow of the moonlight coming in through the window she sees Owen, propped up in a chair next to her on her left, chin resting on his chest, and fast asleep.

That's right. He took her somewhere, so that he can watch over her and help her get better. But where is here? She expected him to take her to where all employees live on the island, in a series of suites in one wing of the Jurassic World hotel. Liv shares one with her father, both of them with their own bedrooms. She thought Owen would take her to her room, or perhaps the suite where he lives, but this is not the opulent suites of the hotel.

Here, the walls are made out of metal, the ceiling too. There's a tree branch bumping against the window pane, and she realizes this must be some sort of trailer, parked out in the woods unoccupied by any dinosaurs. Does Owen live here? Why would anyone live here instead of at the hotel? The hotel is certainly nicer, not to mention roomier. She's lying in a bed, a big king-sized one that takes up a majority of the room. There's a small cupboard to her right that's probably a closet and a dresser pressed against the wall under the window, together making the room feel even smaller since there's next to no floor space left. But the space feels…lived in. Cared for. Not the bleak uniformity of the hotel. There are knickknacks on the dresser and pictures on the walls. The blankets on the bed are soft and worn and well-used. They must have been pulled snugly around her, at least at one point. Now, they're mostly kicked off. Between the fever and how awful she still feels, what sleep she got was probably mostly restless.

Liv licks her lips anxiously, finding them dry and cracked. Her entire mouth feels like it's filled with cotton. There's a glass of water on the dresser, close enough to where she can probably grab it if she sits up, so she props herself on one elbow in order to grab it.

Big mistake.

As soon as she moves the upper half of her body even the tiniest bit up, her stomach lurches. Faster than what her weak body feels capable of, she flings herself towards the door at the end of the bed. Right outside the bedroom on the left is another door opened up on a bathroom and she darts inside. As soon as she gets the lid and seat up on the toilet she lets go of her control, heaving bile in waves. Tears stream down her face from the force of her hacking and her throat burns from the stomach acid, making it feel even worse.

Several minutes pass before it stops, leaving her taking in gasping breaths of air in an attempt to calm her stomach. It's still roiling, threatening another round, but when nothing happens she finally opens her eyes.

There's a presence behind her, and hands, comforting hands, not hands that hurt. One holds her hair back out of the way and another rubs soothing circles in her back.

"Shh," Owen coos softly. She's not alone. She's not alone. "It's alright, kid. You're alright."

"Owen?" she croaks out, still leaning over with her hands gripping the sides of the toilet so hard her knuckles are white. Her legs shake, threatening to buckle under her, but she's afraid to move, afraid that as soon as she does she'll have to throw up again.

"Yeah, it's me. You done?"

"I-I don't know. M-Maybe?"

"That's okay. We'll take it slow. Let's just set you down, alright?"

She nods. It's not like she can stay standing in front of the toilet all night just waiting anyway. Slowly, Owen leads her away until she's sitting on the cold tile floor with her back against the opposite wall. She closes her eyes again, thumping her head back on the wall, as he goes about cleaning up her mess. Well, at least she made it into the toilet, so it's not much. The toilet flushes. Water runs from a sink. There's the sharp tang of a cleaner. And then there's his hands again, one brushing her hair away from her face as the other wipes a wet cloth along her mouth, cleaning her too. She smiles gratefully.

This would have been awful if Vic was the one taking care of her instead. He would have been annoyed at the mess, annoyed with her, annoyed that her healing mutation doesn't include illnesses. He would have made her clean up her own mess. He...probably wouldn't have actually taken care of her at all.

"You need anything?" Owen asks, sitting next to her. It's cramped with both of them in here, but for once she doesn't mind the close proximity. "A drink of water or something?"

She shakes her head. "I feel like if I eat or drink anything it'll just come right back out."

"Okay," he says softly.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Liv breathing deeply through her mouth. The ache in her stomach refuses to ease and she whimpers miserably. She doesn't want to throw up again. Yet a part of her does want to, just so that maybe her stomach will calm down, like the sickness itself will come out with the bile. Uncontrollable shivers start running up her spine and down her limbs, like there's an earthquake deep in her bones. Owen asks if she's cold but she just shakes her head. She's actually kind of hot and there's sweat coating her skin, making her feel sticky.

She whimpers again. Why can't it all just stop?

Sliding sideways, her head finds Owen's shoulder, seeking whatever comfort she can. She wants a hug. She's never wanted a hug more in her life. But she doesn't know how to ask for one.

"Do you want to head back to bed?" Owen asks, not quite taking the hint. "Try to get some more sleep?"

She shakes her head while still leaning on him. No, she doesn't want to go back to bed where she'll just be tossing and turning. There will be no more sleep for her tonight. Not with the way she feels right now.

"You want to crash on the couch then? Watch some T.V.?"

Since that sounds a lot better than going to bed or staying on the bathroom floor, she nods. At least it might help take her mind off of everything. Standing is interesting. Her stomach makes another nasty hurdle but after staying still for a minute it calms back down to a manageable level. Manageable, but not really better.

With Owen's help she shuffles through the trailer, his arm around her shoulders leading her along and keeping her upright. Her legs feel like jelly. They turn the corner out of the bathroom and go through the kitchen. Normally, in trailers, all of the appliances and cabinets are on one wall along a counter and then on the opposite wall is a booth with a table, acting as the dining area. Here, there is no booth. Both sides act as the kitchen, with extra counter and cabinet space where the booth would normally be. The dining area is, instead, further down, where a living area with couches would be. There's an actual wooden table with three chairs in the space, the fourth chair probably the one Owen was sitting in earlier at her bedside.

There's a door in one wall in the dining area, the door leading outside, but the far wall isn't there. There's a hole in the trailer where someone has extended it, adding on in wood. They step from the carpet of the trailer to the hardwood floor of the added structure and turn the corner. It's almost like a small cabin, with a couch against the left wall in front of a coffee table, an armchair next to it, and a large screen T.V. hanging on the right wall. Below the T.V. is a cabinet with players, game systems, and all their disks, and the floor is covered in a plush red area rug. There's another door that leads outside, along with a big sliding window next to it.

Everything is still dark, sunrise hours away.

He gets her settled on the couch, taking the blanket draped across the back of it and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Thank you," she mumbles softly, even though she's still not cold at all despite the chills, but the softness is comforting in a way so she draws it closer around her.

One corner of his mouth tips up in a smile but there's still worry in his eyes. He grabs the remote off the coffee table and then moves to sit in the armchair.

Before he can, Liv grabs his hand, making him pause.

"Hmm?" His fingers curl around hers, holding back. "What is it? Do you need me to get you something?"

She shakes her head. No, her stomach still feels pretty lousy. She clears her throat in order to talk but winces from the pain it causes, lifting a hand to her neck as if she can soothe the scratching ache from the outside.

"Do you want some water?" Owen asks.

She shakes her head again. No. She just wants him to stay next to her on the couch. But she doesn't know how to ask. Ever since her birthday, he's the one who initiates all of their hugs.

But the day after her birthday she just...went for one. She was so happy he made her a cake, she could barely form words besides a continual "thank you". She didn't even think of her actions, it just happened, her body moving on its own. And he seemed fine with it, hugged her back and everything. Vic would have pried her off if she ever did that to him, but she's already established that Owen isn't like Vic, not at all.

Does that mean it really is that easy? She doesn't even have to really ask?

With that thought in mind she gives his hand a tug until he sits down on the couch next to her.

"Is something wrong?" he asks worriedly, obviously unsure what to do. Instead of answering she just goes for it, leaning against his side with her head on his shoulder.

They both tense, Owen in surprise, Liv in uncertainty and fear. When he still doesn't move she's afraid she did something wrong. Should she have actually asked? Did she do it wrong? Does he not want to hug her? But then a soft chuckle vibrates in his chest beneath her head and she tilts her face up to look at him.

"Alright, alright," he says with a fond smile and laughter in his eyes. "I get it."

Owen settles back into the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table, and wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer. With a contented sigh she snuggles into his side as he turns on the T.V. and channel surfs to try to find something decent on this time of night.

Huh.

It's true.

Hugs really do make a person feel better.


Author's Note

So, was the sick!Liv still worth it?

Next chapter is a direct followup from this one, though it jumps to the end of the weekend when she's fixing to go home.

And this time, it really is hurt!Liv.

*sigh* I really am mean to my characters but I just can't help it.

Next update is Sunday.

Hope you enjoyed, PLEASE REVIEW, and see you all next time!