Disclaimer: I do not own the Jurassic Park/World franchise or any of it's characters; I only own the characters and plots of my own mind.

13. Brachiosaur's the Word

Gwyn let out a throaty 'gahh!' as she slammed her shot glass down onto her deck railing. Both hands were curled tight around the narrow strip of wood, in reaction to the bitter burning that infected her mouth and slunk down her throat. A similar sound flet Owen's mouth, but it was more guttural and followed by a laugh. A second shot glass met the railing with a thunk, flanking the other side of the bottle of tequila. Gwyn shook out both hands and felt her previous grimace morph into a wide, giggly grin. The giggles then burst forth and she placed a palm flat against her forehead whilst leaning forward on the rail. After Owen bought her a congratulatory drink at Margaritaville the two planned on a couple more drinks at her bungalow; they realized it wouldn't have been particularly smart to get a couple drinks then have to drive back to their homes while buzzed. Unfortunately, there were no cab services on Isla Nublar. Such was how they found themselves on Gwyn's deck, drinking under strings of paper lanterns. They gave off a warm, orange-yellow glow that was reminiscent of a summer sunset.

"Ohh, why did we decide to do tequila shots without salt or lemon?" Gwyn laughed. She threaded her fingers through her hair and then propped her cheek in her hand. Owen blew a breath of air out of his mouth and waggled a hand through the night air.

"Because this," he picked up the bottle, "isn't cheap tequila." His brows scrunched together and he turned the label towards himself. A single brow arched and his bottom lip jutted upwards while the top one pulled down. The look was, in a word, contemplative. "Well… not that cheap." The alcohol contained in the clear bottle sloshed around as Owen tipped it from side-to-side. "Maybe we should move on to something else."

"Something… sweeter, maybe?" she suggested, stepping towards the ice-chest. She pulled the lid open and extracted two ciders, which were pinkish red in color. After switching the choice of music to the next song, Gwyn went to work on popping the tops off the bottles.

Owen bobbed his head along to the music, screwing the tin cap of the tequila bottle back on. "Beastie Boys. I like it."

Gwyn handed him a bottle of cider and a plastic bottle of water, which were typically reserved for her research hikes. He accepted both and took a swig of the water first. She was smiling about his comment regarding her music, which was playing from a set of portable speakers sat on her only lawn chair. "Why thank you; you'd be surprised at how music like this can liven up a dig. Or the post-dig celebration."

"I take it paleontologists are quite the partiers?" Owen asked with a grin. Gwyn hummed a laugh as she took her first sip of cider. She tipped the neck of the bottle in his direction with a cheeky wink as though confirming his inquiry.

"There's a reason we keep champagne in the camp fridge. You should go on a dig sometime, you'd like it," Gwyn mentioned.

In her mind's eye, Gwyn could see him enjoying being on site. She could picture Owen on the sweeping landscape of the badlands, spending his days bent over a partially unearthed skeleton. Shirt sticking to his sweaty back, skin glistening with the same moisture; briefly, Gwyn wondered if he would work in just a tank top, which would showcase his finely muscled arms. That thought was quickly replaced as heat rushed to her cheeks. Gwyn could also picture him relaxing in the cool evenings, watching the sun drift towards the horizon as it cast rays of golden light across the barren landscape. She would be sitting beside him in a shitty, half-broken camper chair, laughing at something one of them said––like they had done that time on his dock. They would enjoy the cooling air and the smell of fresh dirt and clean air. Gwyn gave herself a mental shake. It brought her back into reality and out of a dreamland so detailed that she wondered just how long she had been collecting such thoughts. Back in reality, Owen was watching her curiously, head cocked to the side.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Maybe I will. Would you be there to teach me the dos and don'ts? So I don't get my ass kicked by some jacked paleontologist who's been in the business for years?" Owen asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes. Gwyn grinned and reached over to pat his well-muscled shoulder.

"Of course I'd be there; it would be my dig after all. Out on the Montana Badlands… long, hard, hot days… pleasant, beautiful, cool nights. Sleeping in tents with mesh ceilings so you can see the stars… or a trailer, if you want. I prefer tents, but, depending on the season a trailer or small camper is a good back-up," Gwyn sighed wistfully. It had been a night for reminiscing. From the memories of the first park, which were being rubbed raw daily, to recalling the ins and outs of the profession she loved. Her gaze was honed in on the starry sky above, at the innumerable specks of brilliant light that painted the black-blue blanket of the night sky. It was impossibly beautiful.

"Sounds amazing," Owen intoned gently. In the background, the Beastie Boys song switched to something gentler and surprisingly appropriate to the situation. Gwyn pulled her gaze from the beautiful sky, and turned it to Owen. She found him smiling at her with the gentlest of smiles. It just barely quirked up either corner of his mouth, but Owen's eyes were glittering as though he was actually grinning. Gwyn playfully knocked her shoulder into his, shuffling a bit to hide that she had thrown herself a little off balance. Damn tequila.

"It'll be repayment for helping me with the girls." Owen's smile morphed into something else. It was an intense look, something incredibly personal; it made her wet her lips and it made her want to be closer to him. Gwyn didn't think that she had ever been subject to such a look. It was enough to inspire her heart to beat a little faster. She arched both brows, laughing a little bit in lieu of a coherent question. "What?" she finally settled on.

"You said 'girls.' Not 'raptors,' or 'blood-thirsty-killing-machines,'" Owen pointed out with a slow growing grin. Gwyn shrugged and realized that, yes, she had, in fact said 'girls.' She had never called them that. Feeling a slight swimming feeling in her head, she rubbed her forehead and laughed for a second time. Only that time, it came off as nervous.

"Must be all the tequila hitting at once," Gwyn suggested offhandedly. Owen shook his head and jabbed a finger in her direction.

"No, no, no––you're getting personal. That's good. Amazing, even! You're starting to see them in a more… hey, are you alright?"

Gwyn felt Owen's hand in the middle of her back, the warmth of it bypassing the thin fabric of her blouse to meet her skin. Her eyes had gone blurry with the threat of tears. Tears that she couldn't recall the source of, and the force with which she was trying to hold them back was making the swimming feeling worse. She pushed her cider to the side and took a long gulp of water. With a shaky and confused smile, Gwyn shrugged.

"Cheap tequila, man, it messes with me… We should hurl that shit into the lake."

"Gwyn…"

She was afraid to look at Owen. Whatever expression that had made itself at home on his face would likely break her thin resolve and persuade her to speak. Unfortunately, her options were few, so she ended up looking in his direction anyway. That endearing look of concern Gwyn had seen form on his face a handful of times was back. God, how many times had he looked at her like that in the time they had known each other? Her resolve escaped her body in the form of a sigh, and she again raised and dropped her shoulders.

"I just… I… I never thought I would get to a point where I could even think about a velociraptor without dissolving into a panic attack. For years I've only seen them as monsters, creatures that chase you down in the jungle. Unrelenting beasts that won't stop till you're dead… but now I'm befriending them. It feels… wrong. And it's just… just a little overwhelming," Gwyn admitted.

Owen's hand crept to her waist, and the gesture wrapped her into a gentle one-armed hug. The warmth of it was comforting against the cool evening air. He had ducked his head a little, bringing his face closer to Gwyn's. "But it's doing you good. The more familiar you are with them, the less scared you'll be; eventually your fear will be conquered, and that's what you want, right? You're on the right path, Gwyn. Nothing about that is wrong."

Gwyn smiled and mirrored his gesture by wrapping her arm around his middle. Her head then fell against his arm, smile turning into a wry smirk. "Maybe I'll be stronger."

"Oh, you're plenty strong already. Coming back here after all the shit you went through? You're probably the strongest person I know. You gain any more strength and you'll be able to throw Hoskins into the middle of this lake!"

"If only!" Gwyn laughed, head tilting back.

They passed the rest of the evening with laughter and couple more drinks, and a brief discussion about whether or not they should go for a swim. It was decided, since they were inebriated, it was a very bad idea. It was also decided that it would be a bad idea for Owen to drive back to his bungalow; such was why Gwyn offered her couch to him for the evening. He proclaimed it was the most comfortable looking couch he'd ever seen––to which she had scoffed––and gratefully accepted her offer. After Gwyn had given him a throw blanket and two pillows, the two tipsy park workers bid each other goodnight, and laid down to rest.

OOOO

Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom.

A pounding heart-beat droned in Gwyn's ears while she ran. Her legs cut through the dense foliage that sprouted from the forest floor, fern fronds slashing at her bare calves. Thick and humid air pumped in and out of her lungs, which burned from prolonged labored breathing. A familiar rush of cold panic had rushed through her body––it was strange how sickly it felt to feel cold on the inside when everything was warm on the outside. It made her stomach churn and sweat bead on her forehead; god, did she just want to stop, hunch over and be sick…

But that was not an option. Not when she was running from the beast at her heels. Gwyn could hear its excited chattering as it gave her chase, whipping through the foliage faster than she knew she could run. If she wasn't clever, then she wouldn't live. A yelp of fear flew from her lips as Gwyn's toe caught on an arching root, sending her into a stumble. Her feet wobbled and her ankles rolled, but she kept pushing forward unsteadily. Dirt kicked up behind her heels and her hand flew out to find purchase on a nearby tree trunk. The passing touch was meant to steady her again as she launched herself in another direction––she couldn't afford to stop moving.

It felt like Gwyn had been running for hours. Her muscles trembled from the effort she had put into running, her lungs burned, her stomach churned, and her throat felt raw. Choked sobs flew from her mouth and tears blurred her vision. It was the second time that she fell, her foot catching over her own ankle, that she couldn't get up. Her muscles simply wouldn't allow her to do so. No matter how much she screamed at her own body to work, no matter how much effort she put into attempting to stand, she simply just hit the forest floor again.

Moments after the fall, Gwyn heard that dreaded coughing screech from just above her. Ripping around onto her back, she came face-to-face with a ravenous raptor, who was poised to lunge. A scream tore from her throat and her arms flew outwards in hopes to ward off the killing-machine. Her hands found purchase on something solid, and she pushed and punched and screamed…

"Gwyn!"

A strangled gasp––more of a yelp mixed with a sob––was pulled from Gwyn's throat as her eyes shot open. Her hands were not pressed against the heated, crackling flesh of a velociraptor; instead, they had found purchase in grasping a soft grey t-shirt. Gwyn's wide, blue, teary eyes frantically searched out those of the person she had taken hold of. Owen was bent over her, one hand cradling the side of her face. The other was gently holding one of her wrists, his thumb running a comforting path across her skin. His face was pinched in a look of pure concern. It still took Gwyn a moment to realize she was not about to die, even having acknowledged Owen's presence. She blinked and tears tumbled from her eyes, streaking uncomfortably along her temples.

Words caught in Gwyn's throat as she attempted to remember how to speak. How did she use consonants and vowels? What did words sound like? The only sound her vocal cords wanted to produce were nonsensical noises to convey her distress. One such whimper was pulled from her throat as she tried to say something. Above her, Owen wetted his lips with a quick dart of his tongue, and his eyebrows further knitted together. Through blurred eyes, Gwyn realized just how tightly she was clutching to his shirt; the neckline was tugged down and the back had bunched up at the nape of his neck from all her pulling and grasping. She flexed her fingers fully, and the hand that Owen was not holding moved to cover her mouth.

There had been nights after the Incident that had ended exactly in the type of situation she found herself in now. Nightmares would invade her head and destroy any possibility of an evening of peace. According to Alan, she would toss and turn and scream, and there were times when she would hit and scratch at him when he tried to calm her down. Gwyn would awaken on those nights with her hands grabbing at her father, and her blankets tangled around her legs. It had been years since such a violent nightmare had overtaken her dreams. The worst thing about it was that it was the nightmare. The recurring raptor nightmare. It hadn't plagued her for years, either. But all of it had come crashing in on her in one evening, and Owen had been there to experience it all.

"I… I… I…" Gwyn stuttered out, gasping between each attempt to formulate a full sentence. Owen let go of her other hand and moved to sit more comfortably on the bed, while Gwyn frantically scrambled to sit up properly. The tangled top sheet pulled around her legs, as the blanket had toppled off the bed while she had been sleeping. "I… I… am s-so…"

Owen shook his head adamantly and his lips simultaneously pursed and pulled into a frown. It was a heartbreaking look, really. One that held such sympathy and understanding. It made the aching in Gwyn's chest just a little worse. "Don't apologize, you don't need to," he told her in a gentle, whispered voice.

Gwyn slouched forward, hands pushing into her hair, which created a curtain that hid her face. Finally, a sob pushed its way from her chest. Fat tears fell from her eyes and splattered against her sheets, leaving behind big wet splotches on the white cloth. It wasn't long before Gwyn felt Owen's arms wrap around her, drawing her towards the warmth of his chest. She allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. Gwyn felt indescribably small. Her balled-up form felt tiny and child-like in Owen's hold, and, for a split second, she felt like she was eleven again. After a moment of allowing herself to remain introverted in her moment of distress, Gwyn unfurled herself, and fully accepted Owen's embrace. Both of her arms locked around his shoulders, and her face dropped into the crook of his neck. One of his legs was sandwiched between both of her knees, and she had leaned all of her weight against him.

"Shh…" Owen hushed gently. She felt his hand run a path up and down her spine, in a slow, repetitive action. "It's alright… it's okay… I have nightmares, too…"

After what felt like an eternity, Gwyn finally felt appropriately calm again. Her hands still shook, and her mind still raced, but she didn't feel like a shaken-up mess. Owen had moved to lean back against the headboard, and Gwyn was still leaned against him; her head had migrated to his chest, and her eyes were blearily focused on the rise and fall of his torso as he breathed. It was a regular motion that had aided in calming her down.

"Did I hit you?" she eventually asked, her voice hoarse and quiet. Gwyn felt Owen shrug beneath her, her arms rising and falling with his shoulders. He slowly ran a hand up and down her back, the slow motion gentle and caring.

"Not hard," he replied. "It was more of an open-palmed smack than a punch."

"Sorry."

"What did I say about apologizing?"

"Doesn't mean I'm not sorry," Gwyn sighed. She removed an arm from around Owen's neck and made to rub her eyes, which now felt decidedly dry. There was some shifting as she moved to sit beside him, hugging her knees to her chest. Momentarily, she dropped her head to her knees, and then raised it before letting it drop again, her face screwed up in a self-berating look. She could feel the atmosphere of the room shift to one of apprehension. Beside her, Owen shifted and cleared his throat; she could hear him scratch at the back of his head. Gwyn sighed into her knees and shrugged her shoulders. "Just ask."

There was some hesitance preceding Owen's slow inhale. "Did it have anything to do with…" he trailed off, the end of his query clear.

"I call it the raptor dream," Gwyn informed. She straightened herself out and let her head thunk back against the headboard. She tucked hair behind her ears and swallowed a lump that had started to build in her throat. "It's recurring. It has been since the day I left Isla Nublar the first time. It's always the same. I haven't… I haven't had it in years…" Gwyn placed a hand to her forehead to hide the creasing of her eyebrows. "I think that with the talk yesterday… and the cheap-ass tequila… or… I don't know. Maybe it was about time it resurfaced. I know that I don't have to apologize, but… I'm sorry, Owen, you didn't need to see me like… that."

The hand that Gwyn had covered her eyes with fell away, but they remained shut, keeping her world bathed in darkness. Gwyn was not easily embarrassed. Little things like being incorrectly dressed for a gathering or unashamedly embarrassing someone else in front of a large audience did not cause her any discomfort. Anything pertaining to the personal aftermath of the nineteen-ninety-three incident had the ability to make her embarrassed. And knowing that Owen had seen her in such a state of helplessness, of such terror, embarassed her to no end. Only Alan and Ellie had seen her like that before. It was incredibly personal. It was incredibly… scary to feel so vulnerable in front of someone.

"Well, your apology is acknowledged, but not needed," Owen informed. Gwyn opened her eyes and let her head roll to the side so she could look at Owen. She found that he had been sitting the exact same way, liking having been watching her the entire time. Heat rose to her already flushed cheeks, and she sniffed, her nose making an unpleasantly congested sound. Owen's lovely blue eyes shifted downwards, and, after a moment, his hand rose to a dramatic height and dropped down atop hers. "It's like I said––I have nightmares, too. The stuff I saw overseas was… awful. I… saw lots of good men die, lots of friends felled right in front of me… and, uh, I know that it's… difficult––very difficult––to feel comfortable with someone seeing you like that. Especially when it's someone you haven't known for very long," Owen laughed a little bit and raised his eyes to meet hers again. He wasn't smiling, but the corners of his eyes were creased like he was. It was a gentle, caring look, one that made the heat in Gwyn's cheeks flare just that little bit more. She was such a sucker for his smiles… "But… just know I'm not judging you. And won't ever judge you." Gwyn smiled at him tiredly and, feeling her throat tightening up with a rise of emotion, mouthed 'thank you.' "You're very much welcome. Now, I should let you sleep; it's only three in the morning, so you can still get in some good rest before you need to wake up."

Just as Owen shifted to get off the bed, Gwyn felt a sharp spike of panic shoot through her body. It made her frantically reach out and grab his hand, urging him to stay put. She stared at him with wide eyes and a mouth that hung slightly ajar. Owen had stopped moving and acknowledged Gwyn with a quiet raise of his brows. She snapped her mouth shut, sank her teeth into her lower lip, and cleared her throat. Her fingers released his wrist and she shoved both hands into her lap, which she became avidly interested in.

"I… um… if you wouldn't… mind…" Gwyn stuttered, trying to figure out the right words to say. She flinched and brought a hand up to cover her eyes, sighing heavily. "Sorry, I'm just on a roll embarrassing myself tonight, let me try this again." She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter, forcing a smile to appear on her lips. "If you wouldn't mind… staying with me… I just… I would feel better." Gwyn flung her arms out to signify she had finished speaking, and the rest of the air in her lungs fled in a resigned whoosh. "God, why was that so hard to say?" she grumbled to herself.

With a chuckle, Owen nodded and swung his legs back up onto the mattress.

"I don't mind, Gwyn."

The tension that had reentered Gwyn's body visibly disappeared. She smiled at him gently and peeled the top sheet back, so they could stick their bodies beneath it. "Thank you."

Gwyn settled in first, quickly and easily. Owen followed suit, clearly waiting to see how she prefered to sleep in order to figure out how he, himself, would sleep. Gwyn, curled up on her side, gnawed on her lip as she felt the mattress shift and dip with the presence of Owen's body. She was hyper aware that he was now laying beside her, under the same sheet. His presence made her feel safer in the aftermath of her dream. His presence comforted her. His presence made her heart race. Gwyn shut her eyes and listened to the sound of Owen's steady breathing. Slowly, sleep came to claim her consciousness, progressively lulling her into relaxation. Just before she fell asleep, she heard Owen bid her goodnight, which left her with a smile on her face.

OOOO

The next morning, Owen was slowly roused by the low sound of rumbling thunder. The heavy drops of rain pattered against the walls of the bungalow and on the water of the lake. He groaned as the sweet caress of sleep slipped away. Someone stirred against him, shifting under his arm; Owen blearily opened his eyes, and was greeted with the sight of tangled sandy colored hair. Gwyn's hair. It was easy to recall the events of the early morning. Remembering the pull of panic he had felt when he'd heard Gwyn shriek in terror made his stomach churn. Initially, he had thought that someone might have broken into the secluded bungalow. But when Owen had spotted her pitching a fit in her sleep, he knew what was happening. Now, hours later, Gwyn was peaceful and at rest, tucked against his chest and held fast to him by his right arm. He tightened his hold on her just slightly, exhaling a contented sigh. Tiredly, Owen shut his eyes and nuzzled the back of her neck, which his forehead was pressed against.

Realizing what he had just done, Owen let his eyes flick open so he was staring at Gwyn's hair again. While they had slept, they had migrated into a sleeping arrangement far different than when they'd initially gone to bed. Owen seemed to have rolled into the middle of the bed, and Gwyn had shifted backwards. He was decidedly comfortable, curled around Gwyn with her back pressed flushed to his front. Despite the fact that he was comfortable, Owen was unable to judge whether or not Gwyn would be when she awoke. With that in mind, he began to raise his arm, removing it from the paleontologist's person with aching slowness. She shifted and made a sleepy sound, and then rolled onto her stomach to get comfortable again.

Owen spent the next handful of minutes shifting out of bed, making careful movements, as not to wake Gwyn. Once he was on his feet, he tiredly shuffled back into the living room, which he had vacated hours before. The throw blanket was tossed across the coffee table from when he'd launched off the loveseat, and the pillows had found a new home on the floor. He began to start reorganizing everything, yawning wide. A glance out the window showed a dark grey sky and trees that swayed in the wind and rain. It would seem a storm was rolling in off the ocean; it would be a slow day at the park, then, which would be a godsend for Gwyn. She would need a slow day to recover from the night before.

Just as he finished folding the throw blanket, a phone began to ring. Owen frantically began to search for the phone in question; he found it on the coffee table, placed atop a DVD box for Jaws. He scooped it up and answered with a quick swipe of his finger, trying to cut the shrill ringing short.

"Hello?" he exhaled into the receiver. The only response from the other end was the dull hum of static. Owen arched an eyebrow as he rolled his shoulders back into a stretch, waiting for someone to reply.

"Who the hell is this?" bit out a gruff voice on the other end of the line. Owen's brow scrunched together as he fell into a seated position, wishing he had taken a moment to look at the caller ID.

"I could ask the same…" Owen mumbled through a yawn. He didn't recognize the voice, so, maybe the guy on the other end of the line had just flubbed a couple of numbers and got them mixed up. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Owen flopped backwards and relaxed into the cushions. After a large yawn and a clearing of his throat, he addressed the caller again. "Look, man, I think you've got the wrong number."

"I've got exactly the right number––what I want to know is why you're answering my daughter's phone," the man replied curtly. Owen felt his body stiffen. Daughter. He immediately pulled the phone away from his ear, twisting it around to take a look at the case. It was wooden with the carved image of a compass rose in the center––it was Gwyn's. Swallowing thickly and feeling significantly more awake, Owen put the phone back to his ear and cleared his throat.

"I, uh, presume I'm talking to Dr. Alan Grant?"

"Damn straight. I reiterate: who the hell are you?"

"Owen Grady, sir, I'm a friend of Gwyn's,"

"It's seven o'clock in the morning, Mr. Raptor Trainer, why do you have Gwyn's phone?" Alan asked in a dangerously flat voice.

"I stayed the night," he replied quickly. Owen jammed the heel of his palm against his forehead, massaging the furrowed skin. The possible implications of what he'd just said hit him, then, and he winced. Before he could make an amendment to his short answer, Alan––quick as a whip––bit out an unimpressed response.

"You did, did you?"

"Not like that! No! I-I came over for drinks and she offered to let me stay at her place."

"Hm. Well, where is she? Let me talk to her, Mr. Grady," Alan requested in a no-nonsense type of voice. Owen contemplated the possibility of waking Gwyn up to placate her father, but shook his head as he decided against it. Resting would be beneficial for her. Owen set his jaw in a determined manner and sat a little bit straighter. His head bobbed in a slight nod as though he was addressing a superior officer.

"I'm afraid you can't, sir. She's still sleeping, and I wouldn't want to wake her up. You see… last night she had a nightmare. The nightmare."

"Is she alright?" came the immediate response. There was a frantic tinge to his voice, the tone of a concerned father.

"She's perfectly alright, Dr. Grant. Gwyn was shaken up, as she was like to be, but she's okay now. Resting." Owen listened to Gwyn's father exhale in both relief and worry, murmuring something under his breath. "Is there, uh, anything I can do for her to help her out when she wakes up? Gwyn mentioned that you helped her out a lot when this used to be a regular thing."

There was another pause on the other end of the line. Owen paced towards one of the windows and peeled the curtain back, watching as rain pattered down on the deck. He didn't dare reiterate the question or break the silence. It wasn't as though he was asking for directions to the nearest grocery store. Owen was making inquiries regarding information terribly personal to the Grant family, and he'd already started out on rocky footing with Alan. So he waited patiently, watching lightning flicker in the distance.

"Make sure she eats something when she gets up; sometimes Gwyn'll be so caught up in what she saw that she'll forget to make herself breakfast. Get her to promise she'll take it easy for the day. You may not have noticed, but she tends to overwork herself sometimes." His last sentence held that same dry sense of sarcastic humor that Gwyn sometimes used. Owen's lips quirked into a smile. "And, uh… just… make sure she's okay. That shit sticks with her like glue. Get her mind off it."

"Thank you, Dr. Grant."

"Yeah, well… I'm glad that she didn't have to go through it alone. Thank you, Mr. Grady. You know, Gwyn talks highly of you…"

Owen's chest had tightened a little bit. He cast a glance over his shoulder, towards the bedroom, as though hoping he might catch a glance of a sleepy-eyed Gwyn. "Gwyn is an exceptional woman, in her work and in her personal life. So I am… extremely flattered to hear that she speaks of me in such a manner."

"Don't give me any reason to contest her belief," Allen warned.

"I won't, sir," Owen said adamantly.

"Tell her I want her to call me, too," Alan added on, the worried-father tone overtaking the tougher, warning tone. "Have a good day, Mr. Grady."

"The same to you, Dr. Grant."

Owen returned Gwyn's phone to the coffee table and exhaled. He scrubbed a hand over his face, letting his pointer finger and thumb massage the bridge of his nose. That conversation had gone from hellish to civil, and it had just about given him a heart-attack. Gwyn always spoke fondly of her father, and how protective he had always been of her; and that conversation betrayed just how true that was. Owen was sure if he hadn't convinced Alan that his intentions were kind, the paleontologist would fly down to Isla Nublar and kick Owen's ass straight into the ocean. The former navy man snagged his pair of folded jeans off the coffee table, shaking them out. He had opted for the more comfortable option of sleeping in his boxers; and it was then that he pulled a face and realized that he had, indeed, shared a bed with Gwyn whilst wearing only his boxers and undershirt. He decided that it was good Alan didn't live on the island. Because if had been a house call and not a phone call that he'd made, Owen Grady would have been a dead man.

About half an hour later, Gwyn shuffled into the kitchen. In that time, Owen had rifled through her kitchen––quietly, of course––and jokingly lamented the fact he should have asked her father whether she prefered waffles or pancakes. He gathered up all the proper ingredients and set to work making breakfast. The small bungalow smelled of deliciously greasy bacon and bubbling batter. He had hooked up his phone to the speakers from the night before, and had quietly been listening to upbeat music as he made himself at home in the paleontologist's kitchen. Said woman stood in the doorway that divided her bedroom and the kitchen. Owen caught sight of her as he turned away from the stove to slide a pancake onto one of the plates. He beamed at her over his shoulder, lifting the heated pan in greeting.

"Morning," he greeted. Gwyn smiled tiredly and nodded to the stove as he returned to it. He began to pour another pool of batter into the pan.

"I didn't know you could cook," she mentioned, a little playfulness in her voice. Owen shrugged and turned a cheeky smirk over his shoulder.

"Never really came up in conversation. I mean, I can't cook a fancy gourmet meal, but I also don't burn water. Just don't ask for chicken cordon bleu or some shit like that. Speaking of," he waved a spatula in the air, gesticulating to his cooking, "I hope you don't mind that I've commandeered your kitchen. Or that I cooked the last of your bacon."

Gwyn waggled a hand through the air dismissively. "My kitchen is your kitchen whenever you're over. Hope you found everything alright." Gwyn crossed to the counter where two plates sat.

"Yours is the one on the right," Owen told her, flipping the pancake over in the pan. From the corner of his eye, Owen saw Gwyn smile and slide the plate into her hands. She then carefully stretched up onto her toes, gave a little jump, and slid onto the counter. "I hope you like pancakes."

"More of a waffle girl, myself, but pancakes'll do," Gwyn informed. Owen gave her a mock-berating look as he approached with the newly finished pancake. He slipped it onto her waiting plate and arched a brow at her.

"Well, you haven't got a waffle iron, so pancakes will have to do."

"Sir, yes, sir."

Gwyn gave a mocking salute and snatched up a fork from the counter. Owen shook his head, laughed, and again returned to the stove. A third pancake was poured into the pan. Owen let Gwyn tuck into her breakfast for a little bit, as he finished making his own. Soon, all the cooking was done with, and Owen had poured a generous amount of syrup onto his pancakes. He began to work the side of his fork through the fluffy cake, and cast Gwyn a quick glance. While she looked a little more awake, there was still a tiredness to her. It was apparent in the slight droop of her eyelids and the yawns that she had been stifling. Owen felt his stomach twist a little bit, realizing that the nightmare was likely lingering. Sticking with her like a bad taste in her mouth, one that was impossible to ignore.

After a few minutes of quiet, both Owen and Gwyn spoke at the same time.

"I want to––"

"Are you––"

Both cut themselves off, waited for the other to speak again, and promptly started to laugh when neither of them said a word. Owen gestured at her with his syrup covered fork, silently prompting her to continue speaking. Gwyn gripped the counter on either side of her legs and smiled down at Owen gently; it was a smile that prompted his heart to do a little skip. It was a sweet and caring look, one that, when directed at him, made him feel a little warmer.

"I just… wanted to thank you, for last night. That nightmare snuck up on me and if you weren't here I don't think I would have been a sociable state this morning." Gwyn swept a hand through her sleep-rumpled hair, her fingers catching in a couple knots. Owen's eyes followed that movement, remembering how he had woken up with his nose buried in her soft locks of sandy hair. Her smile widened, livening up her tired eyes. "I don't think there are a lot of people who would wake up to… that… and then agree to stay. It means a lot to know that there's someone here, on this damnable island, who understands. Really understands… so, um… thank you, Owen."

Owen nodded his head and set his plate aside, face composed in a look of wholehearted attentiveness. He placed his hand atop hers and curled his fingers over her own, giving a small squeeze. There was a growl of thunder outside, and Gwyn jumped, her shoulders jerking and her body tensing. Owen made an immediate move to comfort her, moving his hand to her lower back. It rested there with an assured presence, strong and warm. He raised his brows and leaned towards the paleontologist; Owen held Gwyn's gaze as though their lives depended on it. It was an electrifying look. One so personal and so intimate that nothing else in the room seemed to be relevant.

"If I had left you last night, I would have been the biggest asshole to have ever set foot on this earth. You don't need to thank me for what I did, because I know you would do the same to me, if the situation were reversed," he told her, voice quiet yet strong. Gwyn's lips twitched at the corners, then quirked to one side; she cocked her head to the side and seemed to suppress a laugh.

"Owen, I do have to thank you."

"The only thanks I need is knowing that you slept well for the rest of the night."

Gwyn stared at him for a quiet moment, face smoothing into a neutral expression. Her eyes seemed to mist over a little bit, but the smile was quick to return, accompanied with a nod. "Yeah. I slept fine."

Owen beamed up at her, nodding his head in a satisfied manner. "Good." Gwyn cleared her throat and cut another piece of a pancake with the edge of her fork. Owen made a sound of recollection and pointed towards the living room. "Your dad called this morning." Both of Gwyn's eyebrows rose and then creased in a questioning look, opting not to speak through her mouthful of food. Owen had the grace to look sheepish, leaning back against the counter as he recalled the morning's events. "Your phone started to ring and I didn't want it to wake you up; I thought it was my phone, so I answered… so, in short, I spoke with your father for a little bit this morning."

Gwyn cocked an eyebrow, appearing mildly concerned. "How did your first conversation with Dr. Alan Grant go? You could probably write a book recounting all of the unique stories people have on meeting or speaking to my father."

Owen scratched at his beard, looking away as Alan Grant's gruff, displeased voice echoed in his head.

"Well, I didn't receive a Grant Lecture; which I suspected I might get once he made it clear he wasn't too pleased that some guy he doesn't know answered his daughter's phone." Gwyn snorted and smiled, which lead Owen to believe that she could probably picture the very expression that was on her father's face in that moment. Then, feeling a little cheeky, Owen pushed away from the counter and moved to stand in front of her. With a smirk, he leaned forward and braced his hands beside both of hers. Gwyn eyed his hands and took in their sudden closeness. "He said you speak very highly of me."

Gwyn's expression immediately crumpled, in the way a teenager's might when one of their parents publicly embarrassed them. "Oh, my god…" she muttered. Owen grinned and leaned a little closer.

"I'm touched, Gwyn," he continued, in a vaguely hushed manner, that made his voice kind of raspy. She muttered an 'oh, shut up,' and Owen's brows shot upwards. "Really, I am! But if you wanted to compliment me, Doc, you didn't have to do it indirectly through your father."

The mood in the room had shifted, becoming more light hearted, and a little flirtatious. Gwyn pressed her lips together, clearly making an effort trying to hide the smile threatening to crawl across her face. She moved her plate to sit beside Owen's and then shifted forward to the edge of the counter. This brought her nose-to-nose with the smirking raptor trainer. He could smell the faint floral scent of her shampoo, tinged with the slight tang of sweat; but that was a smell he didn't mind. Gwyn quirked an eyebrow again, letting herself be the cheeky one that time around.

"Down, boy," she whispered.

A strange rush flushed through Owen's body at her quiet but commanding tone. He straightened up as she scooted forward again, her knees brushing his thighs. He raised both his hands in a surrendering type motion, and took a step back. Gwyn slipped off the counter and gave him a fond smile and placed her hand in the middle of his chest as she walked by. Owen smiled as her hand slipped away, fingers slipping across his side. He turned to watch her leave, smile fading into a smirk. He wouldn't deny that he still felt the heat of her palm on his chest, or that the almost sultry tone of voice Gwyn had just used with him had made him flush with heat. It had caused something to stir deep within his chest, something that had started to stir more and more around the determined paleontologist. Owen scratched at his jaw again, smiling to himself while he returned to the stove to clean up what dishes he had used.

In another half hour, breakfast had been finished and Gwyn had made a call to Zara about meeting with Claire. The rain let up a little but showed no sign of stopping, which led them to believe that the storm was going to be an all-day kind of thing. By the time Owen decided it was time for him to take his leave, he had decided that it was going to be a lazy day. He'd do some paperwork at the paddock and keep an eye on the weather. If the storm seemed like it would pick up, he would need to do security checks on the paddock gates and see if the backup generator was still in good shape.

"Take it slow today, alright?" Owen prompted as he got ready to leave. He slipped on his button down, which was wrinkled from being folded, and gave Gwyn a meaningful look. "If you can get a full day off, I'd suggest doing it. Give yourself some down time, talk to your dad, get some drawing in…" Gwyn laughed a little and nodded, casting a look to her cluttered coffee table, atop which her sketchbook sat abandoned.

"Yeah, maybe I will… but only after I get a talking to from Claire about last night," Gwyn deadpanned. Owen pulled a face at Claire's name and snorted.

"Screw that. Whatever she says, know you did the right thing––that guy was an asshole. Claire is a stickler for rules and regulations, and the minute anyone toes the line, she tries to rope 'em back in. Don't let her rope you back in; the park would lose a lot if she does." Owen had spoken in a firm voice, holding Gwyn's gaze with the same look he had given her that morning. She smiled and gave a cheeky little wink.

"The Grants don't back down easily."

"Neither do the Gradys. So, if you need back-up, shoot me a text––I'll be at central command before you can say brachiosaur." Gwyn laughed outright, her head falling back; Owen beamed and chuckled, glad to see Gwyn in better spirits. When the laughter died down, Owen reached out and placed a hand at her elbow, his fingers skimming along her forearm till they stopped at her hand. He gave it a quick squeeze. "But, really, if you need anything at all, let me know."

In response, Gwyn stepped forward and curled her arms around his neck. It occurred to Owen, then, that in the time that they had known each other––nearing a month and a half––they had never hugged. Yet the embrace felt as though they had been hugging for years. There was little reserve behind it. Meaning that their bodies were pressed closely together, with there being little to no space between them. It was the kind of hug friends who had known each other for years would share. Owen wound an arm around Gwyn's waist, and placed his other hand in the middle of her back. With a slight turn of his head, his nose was once again buried in her hair, which was just as soft as it had been that morning. It was the kind of hug one would want to go on for as long as possible. Again, Owen felt the stirring in his chest.

The embrace eventually broke, and Gwyn stepped back with her hands braced on Owen's shoulders. One of his hands slipped to rest on her hip and the two shared a smile. He jerked his head towards the door in the silent announcement that he should leave. Gwyn nodded and withdrew her hands from his person, and he dropped the hand from her hip.

"Have a good day, Owen," she said quietly.

"Have a good day, Gwyn." Owen opened the door then turned back to point at her meaningfully, his brows raised. "Remember––anything you need, don't hesitate to call."

Gwyn grinned and nodded, hair slouching into her face messily. She was endearing, all sleep rumpled and smiling. Owen returned the smile, albeit a little roguishly. "Brachiosaur's the word," she joked. Owen pulled a jokingly serious face and nodded, before slipping out into the rain. He walked towards his Jeep as rain splattered down on his head, dampening his hair. Owen cast one last look over his shoulder at the bungalow, thinking on the woman who called it home. She might have been smiling a little more by the time he had left, but he knew that nightmares like the one she'd had stuck with you. They weren't easy to shake. So, knowing that Gwyn would be having a meeting with Claire at noon, Owen resolved to call her to check in around one. It wouldn't sit well with him if he went the day without making sure she was doing alright. Then, just as he slipped into his Jeep, Owen realized––with a strange sinking feeling in his stomach––that this would be the first day in weeks he wouldn't be spending the majority of the day with Gwyn.

Afterword: And I'm back again after another terribly long absence! A little after I updated last some stuff happened that threw me off my game for a while; but I'm getting back into the groove! I rewatched Jurassic World and Jurassic Park to get back into the swing of things, and I realized I really missed writing Gwyn and Owen. But I'm back and I hope to update a little more quickly next time. There was stuff I wanted to address in this chapter, but the stuff that happened in this one sort of just… ran away and I followed it. I hope you all enjoyed!

Review Replies!

NicoleR85: Thank you so much! I really wanted a moment for Gwyn like the moment Alan had in Jurassic Park, when he lectured that kid. And I had so much fun figuring out how she would have her own spin on it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

19irene96: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading the new chapter!

Gryffindor Rat: I wrote and rewrote and rewrote Gwyn's lecture, because I wanted to make it just right; and I'm glad that you enjoyed it so much! We'll get to see Gwyn talking to Claire next time around, so we'll see what she thinks about her little lecture. And after their little moment at the end of last chapter, I just had to have a couple more sweet moments between Gwyn and Owen in this one. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Hachiko332000: In some capacity, Ian will probably appear in this story––because I adore writing him. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!

The Redshirt who Lived: Grant style lectures are definitely things to be beheld, especially when the person giving it is upset. Gwyn may just have to give one to Hoskins at some point, because lord knows how easily he can piss her off. I hope you enjoyed the next chapter! Thanks again!

RJNorth: As you can probably tell, we'll be getting more and more Owen and Gwyn moments, with all their flirting and whatnot. It can only increase in frequency from here on out, eh? I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!

AmericanNidiot: Who knows, maybe we'll get a joint Alan-Gwyn lecture and behold its mighty power. I have always loved Alan's lecture to the kid in the first movie, and that's what inspired me to write Gwyn having one of her own. I figured that, as Alan's daughter, those were not only the lectures she saw him give, but she'd probably received a handful of them. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

InfinityMars: I'm glad that you've enjoyed the story so far! I really like writing Gwyn and Owen's relationship as it develops. Their chemistry is unique, and that's why it's so fun to write. I definitely think that if Alan returned to the island while Gwyn was there, he would be in full-on dad mode. Like, it would probably be a little scary to witness how protective he would be. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

RHatch89: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this update as well!

katy1986: I think that shouting 'kiss already' will be a theme with these two. There are so many moments, when I'm writing, where I'm like 'they could.' But then I steer away from that because it isn't time for that just yet :) I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

heroherondaletotherescue: Gwyn is definitely the kind of person to stand up for herself before she lets anyone else do it for her. She likes to fight her own battles when she's able to. I really enjoy writing Owen and Gwyn getting closer––they're reaching the flirtatious stage which is so exciting, because that means I get to write flirty Owen now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Guest: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the update!

inpizzaitrust: Thank you! I had a blast writing these last two chapters, and I'm glad that you enjoyed the previous chapter. And I hope that you enjoy this one just as much! Thanks so much!

The girl with no life: I think that Gwyn's cruelish, angrier side is definitely a family thing; if she and Alan were both pissed off in the same room, it would probably not bode well for whoever pissed them off. It's fun to write her being angry. And, ahh, the sexual tension is only just beginning! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!

supboyyyyy93: I think that Gwyn's knee-jerk response to being insufferably angry is to do what she did––attack whoever pissed her off verbally. Though, there are people who would likely inspire her to actually throw punches––like Hoskins and Wu. There will continue to be more Owen and Gwyn moments, if this chapter is any evidence of that. AND the whole Gwyn and Echo dynamic will be explored soon, too. Though, it may have to be a little while for her, what with the dream having popped up again. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

lilnightmare17: Thank you! I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter, just as you did the last one!

PhAnToM1212: Sorry for the abysmal updating schedule; but I hope you've tuned back in, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Dareagon: I am very glad that you have been enjoying the story so far; I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!

Wikked: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

fallondyson: Here's the update! Sorry for being so late with it! Thanks again!

0netflixme0: Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
Aria2302: I am very, very flattered to hear that you have been enjoying all of my writing; and I'm glad that you have been enjoying this story, as well. Thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Guest 2: Here is the promised update! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Guest 3: I'm glad you love Gwyn––I love writing her, as she is very much unlike any character I have ever written. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Natalie Tang: Thank you! I'm very glad that you've been enjoying the story thus far. Slow building romance is one of my favorite things to write. Too fast and I feel like it doesn't seem real. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

mschanyeol: I love Owen as well; I have fun with playing with parts of his personality we didn't get to see in the movie. We see his flirtatious side and his badass side, but we don't get to see him being exceptionally gentle, which I believe he has the capability of being. So I like bringing that out more when he's around Gwyn, especially in her unguarded moments. I've made my decision on who will be coming to visit Gwyn on the Island… and we will find that out next chapter :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

And thank you to those who added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!

And I must thank you all for being so patient. I've been in a creative rut for a while, and I was also very swamped as school. But I'm free for the summer, and I should be having the chance to stretch my creative legs again. I hope that you'll all stick around for next chapter and beyond! Thanks again!

~Mary