Chapter 20

As her phone rang, Claire stared at it, seeing Owen's name on the screen. She knew she should pick up. While it hadn't been a conscious choice to start avoiding his calls, she no longer could deny that she was.

After their phone call a few nights back, she'd been at a loss as to what to do next. That night, when she'd finally looked at her phone, except for the string of missed calls, there were no other notifications. She had kind of thought he'd send a text message. Or even leave a voicemail. She didn't know how to interpret the fact that he'd done neither.

Claire hadn't been ready to talk to him again that evening. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold it together, and she didn't want to have a fight over the phone and say something she would later regret. Instead, she'd sat back down at her desk and had started searching for flights to Madison. Not only had she searched, but she'd been a click away from actually buying a ticket when she'd come to her senses. There was no way she could show up at Karen's without Owen. The invite had been for the two of them to come visit. And, unless she wanted a visit that would be a nonstop interrogation as to what was going on, showing up alone was not an option.

The next day, she'd expected him to show up. That like last time, he'd surprise her by coming back, knowing they needed to talk face-to-face. She'd been disappointed when he hadn't walked into her office, before reminding herself that he probably wouldn't want to make a public show of things. She'd hurried home that day, leaving as early as she dared to, without raising any extra suspicion from Zara (who had been watching her carefully all day). But, their condo had been empty. She had checked her phone again, but he hadn't reached out. No missed phone calls, text messages, nothing. It had been a long evening as she'd stared at her phone, waiting, hoping for him to call, and yet, it had remained silent.

Yesterday, not wanting a repeat of the day before, she'd stayed late at work. And when she'd finally convinced herself to leave, she'd found herself driving past the hotel until she'd reached Owen's lot. It had already been dark by the time she got there, and while she'd been there at night before, she hadn't been there alone. The hammock hadn't held the same appeal in the dark, and after wandering the outside for a bit, she'd ended up in his trailer instead. There was a sweatshirt of his laying on the back of the small couch, and she'd picked it up as she'd sat down. While she was still mad at him, she also just really missed him. She didn't want to be dealing with everything alone. She just wanted him to acknowledge that she was in his corner and had been working crazy hours, too. That it wasn't just him who was suffering over all of this.

Shivering, not because she was cold, but more just feeling lost and adrift, she'd pulled on the sweatshirt. It wasn't nearly as good as actually being wrapped up in his arms, but considering that wasn't currently an option, it would have to make do. It had been as she was sitting on the couch, curled into a ball in the corner, her nose tucked below the collar of the sweatshirt, that her phone had rang. She had frozen, unsure if she even wanted to know who was calling. Claire hadn't felt up to talking to anyone, not just Owen, and in the end she hadn't moved. When it stopped ringing, only to soon start up again, she'd forced herself to get up. After all, it could be the control room and an emergency. When she had seen Owen's name on the screen, she had hesitated with a finger over the accept call button, before putting the phone back down without answering. She still wasn't ready to talk to him, she'd realized. She needed more time.

He hadn't left a message. She wasn't sure what to make of that, except that she thought maybe he understood that she wasn't ready to talk. But… she still had sort of expected something.

Now, however, as the phone rang, she knew she should answer. That she really should've answered yesterday. She was being petty, continuing to ignore his calls. At least he was trying to reach out. That was more than she'd done, even if she felt like her reaction was justified. And even if it was him who was in the wrong, being an adult should mean being above being petty and taking the high road.

But knowing she should answer and actually convincing herself to do so wasn't so easy. And so, again, the ringing eventually stopped while she argued with herself. This time, however, instead of immediately ringing again, she was alerted to a text message.

Please, Claire, pick up.

There was a short pause, and then the phone started ringing again. She took a deep breath, before accepting the call. She didn't say anything, not trusting her voice to be able to hold steady. She didn't want to start the call by yelling. Or by crying.

"Claire?" Owen asked after a moment, his voice hesitant and disbelieving, as though he wasn't sure she had actually answered.

"Hi," she finally responded, not knowing what else to say.

"You picked up." His relief was evident, and she felt a pang of guilt over her actions. She liked to think of herself as a better, bigger, person than someone who gives the silent treatment. But she also wasn't ready to just forgive him. "I wasn't sure you would."

"I–" Claire cut herself off, before saying on a sigh, "What do you want, Owen?"

"Want?" He sounded confused. "To talk to you. You didn't pick up yesterday."

"Because I wasn't ready to talk," she said flatly, not sure if he was being deliberately obtuse or if he really didn't get it.

"I've missed you."

"Really?" She let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Sure doesn't seem like it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" For the first time, his voice took on a sharp edge.

"There's been plenty of opportunity for you to come see me, if you really wanted to." She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but she knew she wasn't really succeeding. "It's been almost a month, Owen." As she said that, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer it was going to be. Or if it was going to end, at all.

"You could've come here," he replied, though it came across to her more like petty petulance. "The boats don't just go one way, you know. You've also got access to the helicopters."

"Owen…" Claire sighed, she really didn't want to get into another fight over this. She didn't want to be at odds.

"I'm sorry that I can't take a vacation right now," he continued. "But… you're not here. You're not seeing how the girls are behaving. Things are a disaster. I can't leave them like this. "

"I wasn't–" Claire started, but again Owen didn't let her finish.

"My work's not like your work. I can't pick it up and take it with me."

His words mader her hackles stand on end.

"I wasn't asking you to hop on a plane today. I was asking you to think about getting away a few weeks from now. I was asking you to consider me as important as your raptors."

Dammit, she hadn't wanted to say that. She didn't want to be the girlfriend who gave ultimatums or made their boyfriends make impossible choices. She didn't expect Owen to always pick her over his job or to put her first no matter what. It wasn't realistic to ever expect that from anyone. But she just wanted to believe that it actually was a choice for him. That he wanted to pick her, even when he couldn't.

Wincing, she waited for his response. For a long minute, she could hear him breathing, the only indication that he hadn't hung up.

"You are important," he finally said.

"Am I?" she asked, snidely. "Because it doesn't feel like it."

"Claire," he drew out her name on a long sigh. "I wish things were different. It wasn't my choice to move to Sorna. And it most definitely wasn't my choice to have my raptors stolen. I've been dealt a shitty hand. I'm trying to make the best of it that I can."

She got that, she did. But, did it make her a shitty person to still think it wasn't enough?

"I can't leave them when they're like this. They already got out once. It's not fair to Barry to make him deal with this alone. It's not just me, you know? He's doing the same thing, staying here to back me up."

Well, now she definitely felt like she was a shitty person. She got why he hadn't left yet. And she really did understand why he'd canceled on their anniversary, even if it had sucked. The first relationship she'd ever been in to hit one year and then… nothing. Not that she'd had much time to think about it on the actual date. But Karen had brought it up in a call, and since Claire hadn't told her what had happened on Sorna, she'd had to sidestep her way around and pretend that everything was fine and that they'd done something. She always felt worse when she lied.

Claire hadn't realized how long she'd been silent until there was another deep sigh from Owen on the other end.

"I am sorry, Claire. I hope things will get better. I'm actively working to make things better. But I don't want to promise to go away only to cancel on you last minute. You know how long they were out of sorts after the Indoraptors, and this feels ten times worse."

Unbidden, a phrase her mom used to say to her and Karen growing up popped into her mind: A promise tomorrow is worth a lot less than trying today. She had to clamp her mouth shut from voicing it aloud. Shaking her head, trying to dislodge the thought, and knowing that it wasn't going to be worth trying to talk about this topic anymore, not now, Claire desperately tried to figure out something else to say.

"I went to your lot last night."

"Our lot," Owen corrected her, and the wording made her pause. Funny, she'd gotten used to calling her condo theirs, but his lot had always remained his to her. Now, she was left wondering if he'd called it theirs before and she'd missed it. "How's it doing? Power still working?"

"Yeah, lights were fine," she confirmed. "There haven't been any major storms recently, though."

The rest of their conversation felt sort of stilted, as if both of them were tiptoeing around what to say, but she did appreciate that he didn't seem eager to hang up. Maybe they were still on iffy ground, but at least he still seemed to want to talk to her.

When she finally did hang up, after she'd started yawning and Owen had encouraged her to go to bed, she realized that he'd never asked her about her plans. That he'd never followed up to see if she was going to see Karen or get away, and she was reminded of the other news that she'd had to share.

Earlier that day, on a call with Simon, he'd mentioned some business meetings he wanted her to take in New York. The timing was relatively last minute, the meetings only a week and a half away, but he'd thrown in a suggestion that she take Owen and tack on a few extra days and make a bit of a holiday of it. "You've been working too hard, Claire. You need a break. And from what I hear, Owen could use one, too. Why don't you two make a week of it? I know you love the city."

It had taken Claire barely half a second to agree to go to the meetings. Sure, she couldn't go to Karen's, but here was the perfect opportunity to still get away for a bit. And she really did love New York. She'd said that she would ask Owen to see if he could go along, even though she was pretty positive she already knew his answer. She hadn't booked her tickets yet as part of her was still holding out hope that maybe Owen would change his mind about going away. However, it was clear he hadn't, and that there was no use asking; it would just be another sore point. But, that didn't mean she shouldn't go.

o-o-o

"Everything okay with you?"

Owen looked up from his laptop where he'd been — admittedly angrily — pecking away at the keys as he typed out another report to see that Barry was looking at him concerned.

"As fine as it can be," Owen replied, shoving the keyboard away from him before reaching up to scrub his hands down his face. "Fucking paperwork. This is such a waste of time. It's not like there's anything new to report. I might as well just copy and paste what I've written every day for the past five fucking weeks: Charlie and Echo continue to resist all training exercises."

"You need a break," Barry said, after a pause. "Why don't you take a couple of days, get off island for a bit. Go see Claire."

"I can't." Owen immediately shook his head.

"Why not?" Barry asked. "Nothing we've done so far is working. Maybe a break would be good. Both for you and for the girls."

Owen hadn't thought of it that way, and now that Barry put it into words, he wasn't sure he liked it.

"No, I can't. What if something else happens? I need to be here."

He could feel Barry studying him, but he stared down at his desk, focusing on a scratch in the wood he'd never noticed before.

There was a long pause before Barry spoke up. "If you'd been here that night, it wouldn't have changed anything. You get that, right?"

"I…" Owen sighed.

He did get that. But he also didn't. He wasn't sure what he could've done if he had been there. Or how he could've made a difference. But, what he hated was that he'd never had a chance to even try. He hadn't been there to protect them.

"It's not just that," he told Barry. "I mean, I don't expect those people to come back. There's almost nothing left to steal now. But… you know how restless the girls are. I keep waiting for them to make a break for it. To escape again. Something." He looked over at his friend, his gaze imploring, wanting, hoping, Barry would understand.

There was another pause, and then Barry nodded. "Yeah, I get that. I'm waiting for it, too."

"I just don't trust them," Owen said. "The girls," he clarified when Barry looked confused. "I don't trust them not to do something the moment I'm gone. I need to be here."

Barry nodded again, but didn't say anything. After a minute, Owen pulled his keyboard back towards him, thinking the conversation was over.

"Any chance Claire can come over here?" Barry asked, and Owen immediately looked back up. "If you can't get there, maybe she could come here. I still think you need a break. And if you can't go, well…"

"She's…" Owen wanted to say that she couldn't. But he knew that wasn't really true, even if Claire would argue that it was. After all, if she thought she could find time for a vacation, surely she could instead come over to Sorna for a bit. Not that it would be a vacation, not really. And not just that, there would also be no privacy. "She's busy."

"Hmm," Barry just said noncommittally, and Owen was tempted to ask what the other man was thinking, except he didn't really want more opinions in his head.

Owen was struggling enough to sort through his own thoughts and feelings over everything. He knew that Claire was frustrated with him. That she didn't fully understand or agree with his decision not to leave Sorna until the situation stabilized. While they were still talking, it wasn't quite as regular as it used to be. No longer every night. And no longer as comfortable as it once was. Often the conversation felt strained, like they were both working to avoid certain topics and then finding themselves floundering, not knowing what else to talk about. He wasn't sure how to fix it, and part of him couldn't help but wonder if it even could be fixed.

Turning back to his computer, he attempted to focus on his report again, although he couldn't stop his mind from whirling. He wished he could just get away. Not off the island, just somewhere where he could be alone for a bit. But, for all the construction that had happened over the last six or so months with all the new buildings, the area still felt too cramped. While Barry was right that he needed a break, there was just no where to do that on the island.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be gone?"

This time it wasn't Barry who interrupted his thoughts, and when Owen looked up he found Hoskins was standing in the doorway, looking in at the two, although his gaze was focused on Owen. Owen wondered how long he'd zoned out for. He hadn't heard Hoskins arrive.

"Gone where?" Owen asked, puzzled.

"New York," Hoskins said, sauntering into the room.

Owen wasn't sure what Hoskins was talking about, but he also didn't want to admit that. Knowing Hoskins, it was probably something Owen should know. He stayed quiet, pretending to be focused on his work, hoping Hoskins would spill a few more details. It didn't take long before the other man did.

"I thought maybe I'd missed your request for time off, when I heard about it," Hoskins said. "Claire seemed happy to be leaving."

Owen stiffened, trying not to react. Claire had left? To New York? Why hadn't she told him? He realized Hoskins was still talking, and he tried to keep his face expressionless while he listened.

"–heard it was Simon's idea," Hoskins was saying. "Suggested that she take a few extra days after the meetings. I guess he thought Claire needed a break. You too, from what I heard. Although that bit was wrong, I guess, considering you're still here."

Even though Owen had kept his gaze mostly focused on his computer, he knew that Barry was watching him. Probably wondering why Owen hadn't brought this up earlier. Except, how could he have, when he hadn't known? What he really didn't get, was why hadn't Claire told him? It stung to know that Hoskins was more aware of her business than Owen was.

"Not the right time to get away," Owen covered for himself, trying to act like Hoskins's information wasn't new. "Can't leave Charlie and Echo. Not with their current behaviour."

The older man quirked an eyebrow. "Who knew that you'd be more dedicated to your work than Claire," Hoskins replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You know, she's on a work trip," Owen said, throwing Hoskins earlier words back at him. "I don't know how her doing her job can be seen as somehow not being dedicated to her work." Not wanting to talk about this anymore, especially when he didn't actually know what was going on, he tried to change the subject. "What are you doing here, anyway? Any news?"

"Was coming to check up on your progress," Hoskins answered.

Owen groaned. He'd been sending in his reports, what did Hoskins really think he was going to be able to add that wasn't already in them?

It didn't take long before the conversation started to get heated, as Hoskins pressed for more information and Owen was slowly losing his temper as there were only so many ways to say that there was nothing more to give. Thankfully, Barry was managing to keep a much cooler head, and he jumped in, suggesting to Hoskins that he take him over to the paddock so he could see what they'd been saying for himself.

As Barry ushered Hoskins out of the room, Owen mouthed "thank you" towards him, to which Barry mouthed back, "You owe me." Which, Owen felt, was more than fair. He definitely did.

Once he was alone, instead of turning back to his laptop, he pulled out his phone, immediately calling Claire's cell. As the phone rang, he got up and started pacing the length of the office, unable to sit still. He wasn't sure what he was even going to say when she answered. If she answered. He just knew that he needed to hear it from her, that she was gone. And he needed to know why she hadn't told him.

A few rings later, her voicemail picked up and Owen hung up, not wanting to leave a message. He paced back and forth a few more times, debating what to do, before he called her again. And, again, after a few rings, voicemail. Damn.

Opening up his message history with her, he skimmed over their last messages, surprised to realize just how few there had been over the last few weeks, but there was nothing there about a trip. He checked his email, wondering if she'd sent him an email about it, or had passed along an itinerary or something, but there was nothing there either.

Fuck.

He continued to pace the office, trying not to panic, but wondering what to do. He debated calling Zara, because if anyone was guaranteed to have Claire's itinerary, Zara was the one who would, except he didn't want Zara to know that he didn't know. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He still didn't get why she wouldn't have told him. While they maybe weren't talking as much as usual, they still were talking. Just because he wasn't able to go to New York, didn't mean that she couldn't have told him that she was going. He'd been waiting for a couple of weeks now for her to mention Karen and whether she'd booked a trip out there. He probably should've asked, he realized. He should've followed up and asked what her plans were. But, he'd just assumed that she'd tell him. And when she hadn't, he'd assumed that it had fallen through.

Owen knew he should know better. Past experience should've taught him by now that when he and Claire made assumptions about each other they were almost always wrong. That it was always better when they actually asked the other and when they actually talked.

He knew he'd been wrapped up dealing with his raptors. But they'd been a handful. More than a handful, really, considering Hoskins had been breathing down his neck for progress and he had nothing to give.

As he paced, he was struck by the memory of something Claire had said to him recently. I'm just asking you to consider me as important as your raptors. The line had stopped him in his tracks when she'd first said it. He hadn't been sure how to respond to it, thinking it was unfair for her to throw that at him. That she knew he valued her.

Owen really did think she was important. And he really did value her. But maybe that wasn't enough. After all, he knew from his own experience, and from training the raptors too, that communication was about much more than words, and that actions often spoke louder. And his actions lately had been pretty shitty, he was realizing. He hadn't been willing to take initiative and actually go to see her, like he knew she'd wanted him to.

Of course, he tried to soothe himself, she hadn't made an effort to come see him either. But he knew that wasn't the same. She couldn't very well come out to Sorna and have a fight with him, if that was what they needed to have. It would be too public. There was nowhere they could have it where they wouldn't be overheard.

But leaving? Without saying anything? Were their lives diverging so much that she didn't feel the need to let him know that she was taking a trip? He could understand her not asking him to go with her. Actually, he was kind of thankful that she hadn't asked him to go, since he didn't want to have to tell her no again. But… he'd have liked to have known that she was going away.

As he stopped in the middle of the room, another thought struck him. It wasn't just that he would've liked to have known, but that he wanted her to want to tell him. He knew, he'd always known, that she didn't need him. That she was independent and capable of living and thriving on her own. They both were. It was who they were, at their core. But he'd also always thought that it wasn't just him who was finding life even better now that he didn't have to do that. That life could be — was — better to have someone he could turn to, to share his burdens with, to lighten the load.

There had been a few times over the past year he could tell she wasn't completely happy with her job. He knew that she had often been frustrated with how things were moving forward with Simon and with what she'd felt like was a lack of trust she'd had from him over the whole Indoraptors project. But, Owen had thought the research institute had started to turn things around. That she was liking it there again. But what if it hadn't?

If Claire ever chose to leave Jurassic World, what would he do? If he had to choose, once and for all, between his raptors and Claire, who would he choose?

While he'd never seen the movie, he was pretty sure this must be what Sophie's Choice felt like. Although, he knew if he was being honest with himself, the choice wasn't actually all that hard. There really was only one right answer.

With a sigh, he collapsed into his chair, staring down at his phone. He should send her a message. He just wasn't sure what to say. He started a few, erasing each one part way through.

Hoskins just told me

Why didn't you tell me?

Heard you're on a trip

New York, really?

Leaning against the back of his chair, he tossed his phone onto his desk and closed his eyes, scrubbing his hands down his face. God, how did things get this bad? Taking a couple of deep breaths, he sat back up and picked up his phone again and tapped out a simple message — Call me — and hit send.

He took another deep breath, trying to calm down. When he looked back at his phone he realized his message could be read a few ways. He followed up with an even shorter one.

Please.

o-o-o

As she sat in the back of her Uber, Claire stared unseeingly out her window. Normally, she enjoyed watching the city streets stream by, as it was part of what made New York, New York. But, she was too busy thinking about Owen's text messages and missed calls. When she'd seen the first message, Call me, she'd been immediately worried that something had happened. And she had been ready to do exactly that — to call him — when she'd seen the Please, which had stopped her short.

And then, she'd flipped over to scan the other messages that had arrived over the course of her flight, and to recheck her email. But there was nothing in either that was indicative of any sort of emergency or issue. Which meant… which meant that she didn't know what Owen was texting and calling about.

She knew she should just phone him. That she'd find out right away if she did, but considering how awkward all their recent calls had been, she wasn't hopeful that the call would go well. And she didn't want an audience, even if the driver had been ignoring her from the moment she'd gotten in, humming along softly to the music from the radio.

Fifteen minutes later, as she closed the hotel door behind her, she knew she was running out of excuses on why she hadn't phoned him yet. And, that just because others weren't informing her that something had happened, it didn't actually mean that everything was okay. If it was more personal there was a good chance that no one else would know.

Pulling out her phone, she took a deep breath and finally tapped call. As the phone rang, she walked over to the floor to ceiling windows, staring out over Central Park.

"Claire?" Owen picked up after only a couple of rings, his voice sounding breathless, like he'd raced for the phone.

"Hey," she replied, hesitating a moment before asking, "Um, you wanted me to call?"

"How's New York?"

She almost dropped the phone at the question. How did he know…? Swallowing heavily, she tried to pretend that he hadn't caught her off guard as she replied, "Just got to the hotel."

He didn't say anything right away, and Claire frantically tried to think of what she could say or if she should just wait him out. After a couple of moments, he let out a heavy sigh, before saying, "Why didn't you tell me?"

For a moment, Claire debated feigning dumb, as if she didn't know what Owen was talking about. But, she couldn't do it. Even with everything happening between them now, she wanted to believe they were beyond that. She knew she'd had plenty of opportunities to let him know that she was going away. In fact, more than once she'd almost told him. What had stopped her each time, was the realization that he never asked. That he never asked how her work was going, outside of inquiring into updates about the missing raptors. That he never asked about the research institute or just her general day-to-day work, or her life. She'd just wanted him to show interest, for once, in what was going on with her.

"You've been busy," she finally answered, not knowing what else to say.

"We're in a relationship, Claire," Owen's voice was no longer calm, now laced with a thread of irritation. "People in relationships tell each other when they're going away."

Claire felt her own anger surging at the comment, and she immediately shot back: "Are we? Or are we only in a relationship when it's comfortable for you but the rest of the time I'm supposed to stand back and wait for you to remember I exist?"

She could hear his sharp intake of breath. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it, though?"

"That's not… I've never forgotten about you," he said, his tone forceful.

"Well, it often doesn't feel like you remember me," she said. "I don't expect to always come first. I know sometimes work needs to. I just want–"

"You do," he interrupted. "Come first."

"Really? So I'm here alone because…?"

"You can't blame that on me," Owen said immediately. "You never even told me you were going–"

"As if you'd be here if I had," she interjected but he went on.

"–The only reason I even know is because Hoskins was surprised I wasn't with you. He said that Simon had said that I was going. What I don't get is… why didn't you even invite me?"

"What would have been the point, Owen? You haven't left Sorna for a single night since Blue was taken. I asked you, repeatedly, about taking a break and you told me that you couldn't. You think I wanted to be taking this trip by myself? This isn't how I pictured being in a relationship, you know. I thought that would mean we'd do things together. But, last time I checked, it really hasn't been the two of us for quite a while."

Reaching up, Claire pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes falling closed. She didn't want to be having this conversation, this fight, in the first place. But she wanted even less to be having it over a phone, four thousand miles separating them.

"Do we have to do this now?" she whispered, her shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of her.

"When are you back?" he replied, his own voice soft.

"In a week."

"A week!"

"I need a break, Owen," she told him. "I've got meetings and then I'm taking a few days."

"A break from me?" His question came out haltingly, as if he was afraid to even voice it.

"A break from everything," she tried to clarify. "Everything's just… It's too much, right now. I just need some time for myself."

"Can I–" he started, before cutting himself off and then trying again. "Can we talk, during your break?"

"I–No," she told him, struggling to keep her own voice calm. "Just give me the week, please. We'll talk when I'm back."

"Oh."

His disappointment was more than clear, and Claire reached up, brushing away the tears that were gathering at the corners of her eyes. "Owen, I love you, I really do. I just need this time. Please."

"Okay," he finally agreed. "I love you, too. Do you… I hope you know that."

"I do," she said, her voice cracking. "I gotta go. We'll talk later."

"Right," he said and for the first time, she could tell that he was out there on the limb with her, feeling just as insecure and anxious over everything. "A week. Just… Know that you can call me. Anytime. Day or night."

"I know." Her eyes fell closed again and she reached out, bracing a hand against the window as she felt her whole body deflating. "Bye, Owen."

"Bye."

I really did enjoy writing all the angst, but am also looking forward to the next chapter as things start to pick up... Not so far from the end, now. 😢

Hope everyone survived another week of quarantine healthy and mostly sane.