Chapter 25

It felt like the elevator doors were opening in slow motion. Claire had no idea who to expect on the other side. Could there be more guards arriving as backup? Although, as she watched Eli fidgeting, his gaze also locked on the elevator, that didn't seem likely. He seemed as nervous as she was over who was about to appear, and Claire didn't like it, not trusting he wouldn't overreact if he panicked.

The first thing Claire's gaze locked on through the opening was a gun, her vision tunnelling and her heart sinking. She could feel her own hands getting clammy, and she tightened her own grip on the gun she was still clutching, although she had no idea how she and Owen were going to get out of this if Eli had backup. She hadn't been expecting to have to actually fire the gun. She'd been hoping that she could just use it as a threat to get Eli and the guard to back off.

"Everybody freeze!"

The shouted words jolted Claire back to the present, and she was surprised to see that the elevator doors were now wide open. There were four police officers standing inside, all of them armed with guns they were aiming at her and Eli.

Relief pooled in her gut, and she immediately loosened her grip, pointing the gun towards the ground. She didn't want to be seen as a threat. Eli didn't seem to have the same concern, the gun he was holding remained pointed in Claire's general direction, although he was still facing towards the police.

"Thank god, you're here." Eli was the first to speak up. "Arrest her, will you?"

"Arrest me?" Claire asked in disbelief, her jaw dropping. "What for? You're the one who kidnapped me!"

"She's trespassing," Eli continued, ignoring her outburst. "Look what she did." He gestured behind him.

"Whoa, is that a dinosaur?" One of the officers blurted out, his eyes growing comically wide, and Claire followed the officer's gaze to where Blue was lying on the ground.

She'd forgotten about Blue, and now as she watched the raptor, she wondered if Blue was still alive. When she saw Blue's chest move slightly and her leg twitch, Claire started to relax, until she remembered Owen.

She turned her attention back to the police. "We need EMS," she said, choosing to ignore Eli and his ridiculous claims, and hoping the police would, too. "They shot–Owen's been shot. He's lost a lot of blood." Turning around, she had barely taken a step in Owen's direction when another command rang out.

"Don't move. We need everybody to stay where they are."

Claire froze midstep. "Please," she begged, her gaze focused on Owen. He was looking even paler than when she'd last looked at him. She couldn't tell if the pool of blood near him was still getting bigger. Focusing on his chest, her heart seized when she couldn't immediately detect any breathing, the seconds feeling unbearably long, until there was just the slightest rise. "He needs help. He's dying. Please."

She had been so focused on Owen, she didn't realize that the officers had left the elevator, and were now spreading out around the hallway, until she felt someone carefully tugging at the gun she still held. She turned to the guy, easily handing the weapon over, not wanting to touch it any longer. "Can you help him?" she asked, pointing to Owen.

"We're calling in EMS right now," the officer told her, his voice gentle. She focused on his uniform, where she could see the name Jones stitched on a patch. "But first," Jones continued, his voice taking on a more commanding tone, "I need you over by the wall."

Claire numbly followed his directions, realizing now that she was paying attention that there was an officer on his radio calling in for additional backup, EMS and, as the guy looked over at Blue, someone who could deal with large animals. She would have laughed, if the whole situation wasn't so serious. A third officer was ushering Eli and the guard with him also over to the wall, while the fourth was now kneeling down beside Owen.

Briefly, she wondered what had happened with all the scientists who had been looking down from the level above, but there was too much to focus on right in front of her, too much to pay attention to, that the thought disappeared almost as soon as it arrived.

"Can you please put your wrists together?"

She looked in surprise at Jones, who was now holding up a pair of handcuffs.

"What? Why?" she asked.

"Please," Jones repeated, reaching for her arm.

Claire wanted to resist, not sure what was going on; she wanted to break away, and race over to Owen; but she felt incapable of actually acting, feeling overwhelmed and paralyzed by everything happening around her. Numbly, she held out her arms, wrists together.

"Do you have ID on you?" Jones asked, once the handcuffs were in place, and Claire shook her head.

The only thing she'd had on her when Eli and his goons had grabbed her was her phone, which they had taken. Actually, now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure where her purse had ended up. What had Eli done with it? What had he told Lockwood when she wasn't available for their afternoon meeting?

"My name's Claire Dearing," she said, finally finding her voice, and desperately trying to pull all of her self-control back together. "I was out here for meetings with Mr. Lockwood and Eli–" she started, turning and glaring at the other man as she said his name. He was standing a few feet away talking to another officer and paying her no attention.

"Wait, Claire Dearing?" Jones interrupted her, sounding surprised, and she nodded. Jones turned and looked over his shoulder for a second, before waving one of the other officers over, the one who had been chatting into his radio. When the other man neared, Jones told him, "She says she's Claire Dearing."

"You're Claire Dearing?" the new officer asked, his gaze scanning her over from head to toe.

"Um, yes?" Claire said, looking between them, confused and feeling self-conscious from their scrutiny. "Why?"

"We got a call from your assistant earlier today, a Ms. Zara Young," the man replied. "She said you were missing." He looked at his colleague. "Actually, didn't O'Hara and Spencer come out here earlier?"

"Yeah, but they didn't find anything," Jones said, sounding dubious.

"Huh," the one in charge — Rogers, according to his name tag — replied.

"If you get Mr. Lockwood, he can confirm who I am," Claire told them.

"Who's he?" Rogers asked, ignoring her suggestion, as he pointed at Owen.

"Owen Grady," she supplied. "They kidnapped him, too."

"When?" Rogers started to ask, only to be interrupted by Jones.

"Wait, I think that's the name for the rental we passed on our way in," Jones supplied and Rogers nodded, although Claire wasn't quite sure what they were referring to.

Before she could ask, the elevator dinged again, and when it opened, more uniformed people spilled into the area. There were more police, but more importantly (to Claire anyway), there were paramedics, who headed straight for Owen and the other injured guard (although she really didn't care if he got treatment).

The increase in the number of people meant that there was an increase in noise, too, and it made it even more difficult to follow what was going on around her, as she struggled to focus on what anyone was saying.

Claire knew it wasn't good, though, when the paramedics around Owen started working frantically, gesturing for a stretcher to be brought over. Moments later, they had placed him on it, and were wheeling him towards the elevator.

"He's allergic to penicillin," she said, the thought coming out of nowhere, her attention turning back to Jones. "Can you tell them that?"

"Sure," Jones nodded, and she watched as he intercepted the paramedics and spoke with them briefly, before they continued on their way.

Claire looked over to Rogers. "Can I go with him, please?"

"No, not yet," Rogers shook his head. "I'm sorry, we need to sort out what's going on here."

"Can you take the handcuffs off, at least?" she asked, holding out her hands.

Before he could answer, a snarl made everyone in the room freeze, although Claire was probably the least surprised, as she immediately looked over towards Blue. She actually felt a bit relieved to see that Blue was starting to move, no longer quite so still. There was a man near Blue, although he was backing away now that she was apparently starting to wake up. Although, Claire didn't think Blue was actually conscious. She thought Blue was probably still out, as her movements looked more twitchy then controlled and the raptor wasn't attempting to get back on her feet.

"Uh, I think we need to get everyone out of here," the man who had been looking at Blue said, his gaze jumping warily between the raptor and everyone else. Immediately everyone started to panic, rushing towards the elevator.

"Wait," Claire pulled back, when Rogers tried to urge her forward. "Blue needs medical attention. And she needs to be put back in her cage. We can't just leave her loose like this."

"Blue?"

"The raptor." Claire worked hard to not roll her eyes at the officers' ignorance. What did he think she was referring to? "Before she wakes up, you need to get a few people to move her back into her cage. You won't be able to do it once she's fully awake."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Rogers replied, trying to urge Claire forward again.

She was about to ask what he meant, when she saw an officer raising his gun and aiming it towards Blue.

"No!" she shouted, leaping towards Blue, intent on getting between the dinosaur and the gun. Her cuffed hands made it more awkward, but she managed to evade Rogers's grasp. "You can't shoot her. Do you have any idea how much she is worth?"

"Get out of the way," the officer holding the gun said.

"No." Claire stood her ground. "I'm responsible for this dinosaur. You can't just shoot her without my approval."

"You're responsible?" The officer had the audacity to laugh and it just made Claire's hackles rise.

"Yes, as the Operations Manager of Jurassic World, and therefore representative of Blue's owners, one who was also kidnapped, I'm responsible for her. And I intend to be taking her back there, alive." A wave of protectiveness towards the raptor surged through Claire. She had never imagined that she'd been standing between a gun and a dinosaur, and that if she was, that she'd be on the side of the dinosaur. And yet, here she was. For the first time, she started to really understand what Owen had been going through these past few months.

"Yeah, well as those responsible for keeping everyone in here alive, I don't think that's an option," he replied. "Move out of the way."

"No," she shook her head. "You're overreacting. All you need to do is move her back into the cage, she is harmless while she's unconscious."

"That dinosaur already killed one person and injured another, we're not waiting for it to do so to any others."

"You're wasting time," Claire told him, briefly looking over her shoulder at Blue, who had stopped twitching. "We need to get her into a cell, and we need to get her proper medical attention." She raised her gaze to the floor above, but she couldn't see anyone overlooking the railing anymore. "If you can get me a phone, I can get the head vet from Jurassic World to help out. But you need to find a vet. And you need to get them here, fast."

Claire watched as the officer slowly lowered his gun, before turning his attention to Rogers, waiting for his next instruction.

"You sure she won't attack us?" Rogers asked Claire, looking wearily at the raptor behind her.

Was she sure? No, not at all. "Yes," Claire told them confidently. "But you need to move her now."

Rogers still looked uncertain, but he gestured to the officer and the man who had warned everyone that they needed to leave to move back over to Blue, before following after them. Claire held her breath, hoping she wasn't going to turn out wrong, but they were able to half lift/half drag Blue into one of the cells and shut the door. As they looked around for how to lock it, she informed them that the locks were electronic, and Rogers spoke briefly into his radio. A minute later there was a clang as the lock snapped into place as someone elsewhere must have found the control room.

Knowing that Blue was safe (sort of), Claire let herself relax ever so slightly. Blue definitely needed medical attention, a fact that was made more clear now that Claire could see the blood that had been smeared across the floor as they'd moved her. Which, of course reminded her of Owen, and the puddle of blood he'd left behind. The memory made her feel queasy with worry.

"Do you know how Owen is?" she asked, focusing her question at Rogers, who shook his head. She was disappointed, but not surprised, and so she turned back to the one task she might be able to control. "Do you have a phone I can use?"

"In a minute," Rogers told her, as he pointed towards the elevator. "But first, we need to go upstairs. Let's confirm you really are who you say you are."

o-o-o

Pacing the waiting room of the hospital, Claire was desperate for a distraction. No one would tell her anything, even after the police had been the ones who had brought her in, and had informed the staff that she was there for Owen. The nurses had apologized, looking at her with sympathy, but said that Claire would have to wait for Owen to wake up and give his consent before they could release any information, or even just let her into his room.

The whole experience felt like deja vu to when Owen had been injured by Fern and Dr. Graham hadn't wanted her to stay. Owen really needed to stop getting injured. But, since she was pretty sure that wasn't likely, considering he had more than once proved that he would gladly run into danger, they needed to figure out some way around this. She was sick of being sidelined in these moments.

She wished she had her phone. At least if she had it, it'd be a distraction. And not just that, but there was so much to do. Between her worry over Owen and the neverending to-do list that she kept obsessing over (and adding to, in her mind), Claire felt on the verge of a meltdown. It was hard to believe it had only been a couple of hours since the police had first shown up.

Once Rogers had taken her up to the main level of the Estate, they had found Lockwood, Iris and Maisie waiting, along with a couple of other officers. She'd felt bad for Lockwood, who looked like he was about to have a heart attack, when he saw her appear, his gaze focusing on her handcuffs. (The police had taken them off in a hurry, based on his reaction.) Lockwood had apologized profusely, but, as she'd told him, it wasn't his fault. She knew her dismissals wouldn't be enough to push aside the guilt he was feeling, but she hoped it helped. It really wasn't Lockwood's fault. The fault lay squarely on Hoskins, Henry and Eli. But, even thinking that, knowing that, Claire was still curious as to what had tipped the scales for Eli. And Henry, for that matter. Hoskins had always felt like a bit of a bad egg, but she wasn't sure what had convinced the other two to join him.

Maisie, on the other hand, had been thrilled at the news that there was a dinosaur in the basement, and had spent the whole time begging to be allowed to go down and see him. Her, Claire had corrected the girl absently. She'd been surprised to see Maisie. The girl had been wearing blue plaid pajama pants and a grey shirt covered in tiny stars and was clutching a stuffed orange sock monkey. Claire hadn't realized how late it was, until she saw that. Not that Maisie was acting like it was late, or that she appeared at all tired. Instead, she resembled more a kid on a sugar high, talking non-stop, and unable to stay still, which was a change from how Claire had seen her before, the girl normally quiet and shy.

Iris had been fretting between Lockwood ("You need to calm down, sir, this isn't good for your heart.") and Maisie ("It's way past your bedtime. Of course, you're not going to see the dinosaur tonight. You need to sleep."). Iris had taken a short break from trying to take care of the two of them to ask Claire if she needed anything ("Can I get you something? Tea? Water?"), but Claire had declined. She hadn't wanted to do anything that would delay her getting to the hospital.

But, before she'd been able to leave, she had borrowed a phone and had called the Control Room at Jurassic World (she wished she had her own phone, with all her contacts), and had them wake up Dr. Molly Holt. While Claire had been attempting (badly, she knew) to explain to Molly what had happened to Blue, a vet had finally arrived at the Estate and Claire had been more than happy to hand the phone over, letting the two vets speak directly to each other to sort out what kind of help Blue needed. The vet had been ushered down into the basement immediately, taking the phone with her, which had prevented Claire from calling anyone else.

It had taken a while longer before she'd been able to convince Rogers that there really wasn't much more she could do, right then. That sure, in the morning, when people were awake, and especially if they could find her phone, she'd be able to help a lot. She needed to talk to Simon and the Jurassic World lawyers. She needed to follow up with Molly to see when they'd be able to transport Blue, and then figure out how they were going to do so. She needed to know what the hell had been happening in the lab and then figure out if Jurassic World should be involved there, legally.

Every time she thought about it all, she had new items to add to the list. But, first and foremost, she needed to know if Owen was okay. And to not just hear that he was okay, but see him with her own two eyes.

Rogers had eventually realized that Claire pacing around the Estate wasn't any more useful than if she was allowed to pace around the hospital. And, actually, would probably be less disruptive, considering she'd stopped every time she passed him to ask if he had an update on Owen (he never did). He'd had Jones drive her to the hospital. Jones had stayed just long enough to talk with nurses, letting them know who Claire was, and getting his own update on Owen (which had made Claire scowl, since they had refused to tell her anything). Jones, to his credit, had passed along that Owen was in surgery, and that his prognosis was good.

Still, being told that just wasn't enough. She wanted to see him. To see his chest rising and falling, to feel his heart beating beneath her palm, to have him tell her himself that he was fine.

But, in the meantime, she'd have to make do with pacing.

o-o-o

It was very early in the morning when Owen woke for the first time, the anesthetics from his surgery finally wearing off. And it was another hour before the doctors were satisfied with his vitals and allowed Claire in, at which point Owen had already drifted off again. While she'd have preferred to have seen him awake, to have heard his voice, she was grateful that they had let her in at all, and bit her lip to keep from complaining.

Owen was sleeping flat on his back, his shoulder heavily bandaged, and his arm strapped to his chest to keep it immobile. She could see a small butterfly bandage near his hairline, probably where he'd hit his head. In everything that had happened, she'd forgotten about his concussion. God, she hoped that wasn't going to complicate things further.

She hadn't been allowed to stay long before they'd kicked her out, and told her she could visit again when visiting hours started up. That what Owen needed most of all, was rest.

In the drawer in his room, the hospital had put all of Owen's valuables that they'd stripped off of him before surgery. And Claire had searched through it quickly, finding car keys (maybe for the rental that Jones and Rogers had talked about, she'd thought), his wallet, a keycard for her hotel, and, best of all, his phone.

She'd unabashedly swiped some cash from his wallet, the keycard, and his phone. With her own purse and phone still missing, she had no way to contact anyone or to pay for transportation anywhere.

While part of her wanted to wait in the hospital until she was allowed to see Owen again, she also really wanted to change her clothes and have a shower. She had a couple of hours before visiting hours would start up again, and she used them for a quick trip back to the hotel. On her way there she'd gotten a hold of Zara (who must have been sitting beside her phone, considering how fast she'd picked it up, and who told her she'd been calling Claire constantly). It was Zara who mentioned that the keycard was probably for her hotel room that Owen had gained access to, which allowed Claire to skip a potentially embarrassing conversation at the front desk.

Upon entering the hotel room, the first thing she'd spotted was Owen's duffle bag sitting abandoned on the bed. Who would've thought it would take her being essentially kidnapped for the two of them to finally manage to get away together?

She'd had a quick shower and changed clothes, before gathering everything she thought she might need at the hospital, including her laptop and a book.

Visiting hours were just starting up as she walked back into the waiting room on Owen's floor, and she was grateful that no one stopped her as she headed directly for his room. Well, not until she reached the door, only to find that there was a police officer she didn't recognize standing beside it.

"What's going on?" Claire asked, hurrying towards him.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you can't go in there right now," he said, shifting until he was standing between her and the door.

Claire's stomach dropped, her mind immediately coming up with a thousand worst-case scenarios. She thought about the phone she was clutching, sure it hadn't rung while she'd been away. Then again, considering they hadn't been willing to tell her anything earlier, it was just as possible they wouldn't have tried to contact her if anything happened now.

"Is he okay?" she asked, trying to look around the officer, but he made sure to block the small window in the door.

"He's just giving his statement right now," the officer replied. "If you would please wait in the waiting room." He pointed behind her, back down the hallway.

Claire waffled, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she tried to decide what to do. "Does he need a lawyer?" she finally asked, not really sure where the question came from, but the officer didn't reply, just pointing back down the hallway.

With a huff, she turned and left. So much for rushing back there. After an hour of pacing (and occasionally trying to sit down, but she couldn't stay still), she finally saw the officer (along with a couple of other men) walking down the hall. The officer pointed at her, saying something to the two men, who changed direction to approach her. She stopped, watching them head towards her, wringing her hands. What did they want?

"Ms. Dearing?" one asked, and she just nodded. "Thank you for your patience. Could we take a few minutes of your time and ask you some questions now? Or would you like to come down to the station later?"

"Um," Claire said as her gaze darted down the hall they had come from towards Owen's room.

"Would you like to see him first?" the second officer offered. "He's asleep, but we could wait a couple of minutes."

She nodded mutely, and when they moved aside, she quickly hurried down the hall. Claire had been hoping they were wrong, but when she opened the door to his room, Owen was, indeed, fast asleep. Dammit. She was almost tempted to poke him, to see if she could wake him up, just so she could look into his eyes for a moment, hear his voice, but she knew he needed the sleep. Bending over the bed, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, before whispering: "I love you."

When Claire returned to the waiting area, even though it had been only a few minutes, she found that the police had sorted out an office to borrow so they could speak in private. It went longer than Claire had expected. She'd thought maybe it would be thirty minutes or an hour. But it took almost three hours before there was any indication that they were ready to wrap it up. They had her retrace everything that had happened, from her hearing the suspicious sounds and her conversation with Maisie, to the next day choosing to walk around the grounds to see if she could see anything. There was a lot of "uh huh" and "hmms" from them, but they rarely spoke, usually letting her give her answer fully, before backtracking to ask for more details, or to clarify what she meant.

By the time she was allowed to leave, she was exhausted (and starving). The coffee she'd grabbed on her way into the hospital that morning had not been enough to fuel an interrogation. But, even though she could feel her stomach rumbling, she headed straight for Owen's room, wanting to see him first. He had barely shifted from the position he'd been in earlier, still flat on his back. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few long moments, before a nurse interrupted her, coming in to check his vitals.

"Sorry," Claire shifted, trying to get out of the way. Her stomach growled again, and the nurse looked over at her.

"Why don't you go eat something? It won't help him if you get sick. And he'll still be asleep for a while," the nurse suggested. When Claire looked ready to protest, the nurse added: "You can bring it back here, if you'd like. Won't take you more than ten minutes."

The nurse was right. Eight minutes later, Claire reentered the room with a sandwich, banana, and another coffee to find Owen still fast asleep. After combing her hand through his hair a couple of times, and pressing another kiss to his forehead, she settled into the chair and opened the sandwich.

It wasn't until she had finished her lunch and had worked her way through half her inbox that Owen finally stirred, a low groan escaping him as he shifted. Quickly closing her laptop, she set it aside, turning her focus back to the bed. She'd been sitting on his uninjured side, so she reached out, one hand grabbing his, while her other gently brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"Owen?" she asked softly. She could feel his hand tighten around hers at the sound of her voice, and she called his name again. "Owen? C'mon, open your eyes for me." He groaned again. "Please, Owen."

She watched as he opened his eyes, only to quickly squeeze them shut again, another groan emerging. She waited him out, continuing to run her hand through his hair soothingly, until he was finally able to focus on her.

"Claire," he said groggily, a smile spreading across his face as he stared at her. "You're here."

"Of course, I'm here. Where else would I be?"

He scrunched his face. "Anywhere."

"Well, I'm here," she said. "And you are finally awake."

"I've been awake," he replied, looking confused. "But you haven't been here. There were… cops, I think. And lots of doctors. And nurses. But no sexy ones." He scanned her over almost hopefully at that, looking slightly disappointed with her outfit.

She laughed, although it quickly turned to sobs as her relief at him finally being awake and talking with her overwhelmed her. "I'm sorry," she told him between hiccups. "I have been here, you just haven't been awake for me. And I'm just–"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I get it," Owen replied, pulling his hand out of her grasp and raising it to her face, brushing away her tears. He scanned her over again, as much as he could from his prone position. "Are you okay? Did anyone get you?"

"Me? I'm fine," Claire said. "Not even a scratch."

"Thank god," Owen murmured, his eyes closing briefly as his breath escaped him in a woosh. A moment later they popped open again, and he asked hurriedly: "Blue? Did they shoot her?"

"She's fine," she said, reaching for his hand again. She threaded her fingers through his and tucked them under her chin, leaning on them slightly as she stared down at him. "I promise. She was shot–"

"What? I thought you said she was fine!" Owen tried to pull his hand away.

"She is," Claire said. "Let me finish. They brought in a vet, and Molly talked him through examining Blue. No permanent damage done, just some blood loss. Molly debated sending up some blood for a transfusion, but it was decided that it wasn't necessary. Just means Blue will be a bit slower for a few days as she regains her strength. But, considering she's stuck in that cell for at least one more day until we can transport her, it's fine. Molly, though, is coming up to see her, and to accompany her back to the island."

"But Blue's fine?" he repeated, urgently.

"She's fine," Claire nodded. "Seriously, the one we've all been concerned about is you. You can't do that, Owen."

He blinked. "Do what?"

"Leap in front of bullets! You're not a superhero. You're not invincible."

"I know," he said. "I just… I wasn't thinking. And they were going to shoot her! I'd have done the same for you, you know." He tried to turn it around, giving her one of his most charming smiles.

Claire bit her lip, before shaking her head at him. "I'd prefer we don't end up in situations where anyone needs to jump in front of bullets."

"Deal," Owen said. He squirmed about for a moment, looking at his bandaged arm, and then following the line to the IV. "Can we go home now?"

"You got out of surgery less than 12 hours ago, Owen!" she exclaimed.

"So?" he shrugged, as much as he could with one shoulder immobile. Although, considering the pained look that immediately crossed his face, Claire was pretty sure he wouldn't be attempting that again anytime soon.

"The doctors said probably a week," she told him, and his face immediately dropped.

"When are you heading back?" He looked away from her as he asked.

"Hey," she moved her hand down to cup his cheek, tilting his head until he was looking back at her. "I'm here as long as you are."

"Really?"

"Really. Not going anywhere." She bent down, giving him a quick kiss. He tried to deepen it, his hand escaping hers and reaching up to thread into her hair, trying to hold her in place. She pulled back, resting her forehead against his. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."

And he's okay. :) He had to be, after all, since I promised no breaking up Claire and Owen, and killing one of them would be a pretty permanent breakup. :P

Oh and I finished the epilogue! Yay! So two more weeks of PUP coming at you. :)

As always, stay safe and see you in a week.