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.
21. Best Laid Plans
The routine of making breakfast together was something that Alan and Gwyn always fell into easily, no matter how long they'd been apart. It was a little different, a little more difficult in a smaller kitchen space; it was basically a glorified kitchenette––which Alan pointed out––but it served its purpose. Gwyn was stood at the stove frying eggs and Alan had been allocated to the opposite end of the kitchen to toast bread. Gwyn was already dressed for the day, though she was monitoring the thermometer outside with the eyes of a hawk. The temperature was steadily climbing, and she had a sneaking suspicion that she might have to forego a button-down in favor of a tank top. Alan, however, was still comfortably dressed in his sleeping clothes, clearly not intending on going anywhere anytime soon––or at all.
"So," Alan started, scraping butter across a piece of warm toast, "you're working with the velociraptors today?" Gwyn nodded and grimaced a little upon scraping her spatula under an egg that was sticking to the pan. "Where were you yesterday, then? Obviously not with Mr. Grady, as you had him babysit me while you were busy."
Gwyn rolled her eyes. "He wasn't babysitting you; no one could babysit you if they tried…" she deadpanned. She heard him scoff a sound that could have been interpreted as 'damn straight.'
"What had you tied up, then? 'Cause your Mr. Grady mentioned that you did some kind of lab work."
The question was the one that Alan had wanted answered since he'd arrived on the island. It was the one that Gwyn had been trying to formulate a proper response to since he'd arrived. It was a tricky response. Because she could tell him the truth, but not the whole truth––not yet. Not until they announced the ticket sales for the Indominus Rex attraction. It was difficult trying to suss out what details she could give out. It was for this reason that Gwyn sighed and scrubbed a hand through her hair.
"Yeah, I do. I just… Mr. Masrani wanted me to oversee the growth of some of the dinosaurs once they've been hatched. That's all," Gwyn shrugged dismissively. She flipped one of the eggs over and pursed her lips when the yolk broke. "They just want information on how to handle them when they get older."
"Which dinosaurs?" Alan asked while he leaned over and dropped the toast on the plate. He fixed her with a look, a pointed one, when she did not easily rattle off the answer. Gwyn set the spatula aside and shot a look back at him.
"I'm legally obligated to not release that information," she admitted on a sigh. She watched the expression on Alan's face twist and crunch and furrow. His shoulders squared and his brows rose with displeasure. Before his mouth could snap open to talk, Gwyn raised a hand sharply, a finger held up to stop him. "Look, I want to tell you, Dad, I really, really do. And the minute that I can tell you, I will. But if I breathe a word of this to anyone, I will be kicked off this island."
"I get the feeling you aren't telling me something, Gwyn."
"I will tell you when I can tell you."
With a familiarly disgruntled, thin-lipped expression, Alan crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. She'd been on the receiving end of that look for many, many years. It was a sure-fire sign that she was going to be lectured, or spoken to quite firmly. It was also a sign that she could be asked something that she didn't want to hear or answer. It was a sign that the morning that was not going to be as pleasant as it could have been.
"How's this endeavor of yours going?" he asked in a careful tone. Gwyn's eyes narrowed a little and her brows furrowed in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"You said you wanted to take this job so you wouldn't feel scared anymore. How's it going?" he elaborated. His tone stuck in a monotone that betrayed absolutely nothing that he was thinking.
Gwyn shrugged and shut the burner off. "It's going. The idea of being here isn't so crippling anymore, not always at least. There are still days where I feel like I don't want to leave the bungalow, but it's not like the park looks exactly the same. Like the bad memories are nipping at my heels every waking moment. Like, if the Innovation Center was inside the old visitor's center? We'd have a bigger problem. The island is less of an enigma in my mind."
"So once you've finished this… foray into your nightmares, you'll come home?"
There was a tense moment in which Gwyn did not respond. She cleared her throat and shifted the frying pan into the sink.
"I don't know," she admitted honestly. For as long as the park wanted to continue creating frankensaurs, Gwyn felt obligated to try and stop them. Because if things with the Indominuses went smoothly, they'd feel invincible and keep on creating new creatures till they slipped up and killed an entire island full of people.
"You mean to say that you'd consider working here permanently?" A little bit of incredulity had started to leak into his voice. And a glance over at him revealed a similar emotion on his face. Gwyn pursed her lips and shoved the plate of food towards Alan, the piece of ceramic scraping across the counter.
"Jobs here aren't permanent. They aren't… life-long careers, and I think that people know that. No one works at a theme park for their entire lives. I don't intend on staying here forever; I miss my work back home too much. But… if InGen keeps giving me a reason to beat them back down to size…" she trailed off. Her shoulders rose and fell in a quick shrug, saying what she could not. Gwyn had busied herself with putting dishes into the sink, dutifully avoiding eye contact with her father. She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her head, daring her to meet his gaze and get trapped under it.
There was a quiet grumbling from under Alan's breath; and in the corner of her eye she could see him shift his weight and recross his arms. He wasn't about to let the matter drop completely. "You sure it's InGen that would be keeping you here, or is it a certain handler?"
Tension seeped into the air. Gwyn had frozen at the sink, her hand gripping a mug that she had been about to deposit. All the air in her lungs swept from her lungs in a disbelieving scoff, and she dropped the mug into the sink carelessly. It clattered against the frying pan, a piece of the lip chipping off. She turned to her father with eyes that had narrowed under furrowed brows. Both of her hands, a little damp with water, found a defiant place on her hips.
"Excuse me? Y-you think I would stay here for a man?" She laughed incredulously and scrunched her eyes shut; one hand rose to pinch the bridge of her nose like the notion gave her a headache. "When my time here is up, it's up. No thing and no one could tether me to this island for an unnecessary amount of time. I don't plan on building a––a damn summer home here! I cannot believe that you think I'd even entertain the idea of staying here longer than I need to be!"
Alan pushed away from the counter and mimicked her earlier stance––hands on hips, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. It was Grant against Grant. Two very similar personalities butting together in an ugly, unexpected clash. Alan and Gwyn had fought before, a number of times in fact, and the arguments were never fun. They were too alike for either of them to give up easily.
"Than you need to be? Gwyn, you don't need to be here; you've never needed to be here!" Alan's expression tightened and when he spoke again, he spoke low and and flat. "This island is poison. It's a living hellscape. I commend your bravery for coming here to face your fears and try and keep the assholes from InGen in check. But this place is gonna do you more harm than good."
"And what if this foray into our nightmares makes me a better person? Because I can tell you that I may have screamed and cried in the face of Owen's velociraptors, but I have never felt stronger than being able to walk away from them with my chin held high. To look them in the eye and walk away. What if being here finally puts my eleven year-old self to rest? What if I can stop feeling so helpless? I'm staying for my own betterment––not because I've got feelings for someone," Gwyn deadpanned. She yanked her linen button down off, which left her in a black tank top. The argument had made the room feel twenty degrees hotter, and sweat had begun to gather at the nape of her neck. The shirt was tossed down on the table and she tore her disappointed and wounded gaze away from Alan's. "I have to go. Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'll be back this evening."
With that, Gwyn shoved her feet into her work boots, grabbed her keys, and breezed out of her bungalow. Alan did not call after her. She did not look back to see if he would. Both father and daughter were too stubborn; they needed space and time before they spoke again. The argument had been sudden and unexpected, but it was clear to Gwyn that the subject had been something nagging at Alan for some time. He had never liked the idea of returning to Isla Nublar, and he'd made that explicitly clear. But it was plainly obvious, now, that his hatred of the idea had not lessened, and that he had some other feelings regarding the possibility of her staying on the island indefinitely. When Gwyn jumped into her jeep, she dropped her head against the hot steering wheel and let out a breath. Some part of her had known something like this would happen with Alan on the island. She just hadn't expected it to hit her so hard.
OOOO
"Good morning, Owen!" called Barry as he approached the cage. Owen was stood inside, wiping down the muzzles, a bucket of soapy water at his feet. They were doing routine maintenance inside the paddock that day, so the girls had been put in their stalls till it was done. It was only eight-thirty, but it was hot. Owen had his button down tied around his waist, leaving him in a tank top; it would keep him cooler as he worked, and there was no need to get his shirt sweaty an hour into the work day. As Barry buzzed into the cage, Owen dunked the sopping rag in his hand back into the bucket. He inclined his head to his friend, who was already swiping sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his linen button down.
"Morning, Barry," Owen greeted. He wrung out the soapy rag and grabbed a second one, which had sunk to the bottom of the bucket. "I apologize, again, for having to drag Hoskins back here yesterday." He squeezed the second rag in his fist and tossed it in Barry's direction.
Barry shrugged his dismissal and caught the rag that sailed his way. He made his way over to the muzzle Delta was usually put into. He started to scrub at the metal, which was stained with flecks of dried velociraptor spittle. "No need to apologize. Hoskins is a pain, but I imagine he's more of a pain to anyone with the last name 'Grant.'"
Owen snorted and quirked an eyebrow. Gwyn had told him stories of how protective Alan was, but to see it first hand, in real time was something else entirely. The look that overcome Alan's face in Starbucks the day prior was striking. It was a look that, had it been leveled at Owen, would have had him shrinking down in his seat, wanting to disappear entirely. It would appear that, yes, Hoskins had quite the pension for annoying the Grant family. And that was a feat, as he had only been in Alan's presence for less than ten minutes, and ended up annoying him just as much as he'd annoyed Gwyn in the six months she'd been at Jurassic World.
"Why do you think that is?" mused Barry. He thoughtfully twisted the rag in his hands, as though recalling ever instance Hoskins had shown up at the paddock and trailed after Gwyn as she tried to avoid him.
There was a splash as Owen plunged his hand back into the water bucket. The water had gone warm, but it was still a refreshing contrast to the growing heat and humidity. He swirled the rag around a few times thoughtfully. "I think that he legitimately believes that he can convince them. That if he tries hard enough, he'll get Gwyn on his side. Imagine if he did––people in her field trust her. If she were to agree with Hoskins' scheme, people would think there's some legitimacy to it, they'd have reason to consider backing it." Owen snorted and wrung out his rag for the hundredth time that morning. He smirked over at Barry wryly. "Like that's going to happen, though. Gwyn––and her father, for that matter––would rather punch him than listen to him."
Both men chuckled as they moved on to a different muzzle to clean. They were quiet for a little bit, the birds and bugs of the island creating the soundtrack to their morning. Intermittently they could hear the girls wheeze with the displeasure of being confined to such small places. Francis and Jim were chatting while cleaning up inside the paddock, the gate of which was raised. The day was going to be slow, they could feel it. It was going to be blisteringly hot, the humidity was already disgusting, and routine maintenance usually took a while. Not that any of them were complaining, though; it was better to have a slow day at the velociraptor paddock than a hectic one.
"So, speaking of Dr. Grant and Dr. Grant…" Barry started, glancing at Owen from the corner of his eye. "How did your meeting with her father go?"
Owen snorted under his breath. "It wasn't a meeting. I took him to lunch because Gwyn was detained by her work in the lab."
"Then how did lunch go?" he pressed.
Owen fixed him with a look, his eyes narrowed as he tried to catch on to whatever Barry was trying to get at. Barry merely arched his brows like a curious friend, holding up his hands in mock innocence.
"It went better than I thought it would," Owen admitted. "I was convinced that after that time I spoke to him on the phone that he thought we had some… convoluted friends with benefits thing… and, honestly, I'm not entirely sure he doesn't still believe it, but… he's a good man. Protective to a T, but that was expected. Hard to read him, though; you know how Gwyn gets when she's frustrated? Y'know, the deadpan, the thin lips and narrowed eyes? Yeah, it's very clear where she got that from, and that seems to be his neutral expression. But he's a good man. That's easy to tell."
Barry nodded and was quiet for a moment. He started to scrub down Charlie's muzzle, soapy water drips slipping down the length of his forearm. "So meeting your future father-in-law went well, then?"
"Yes," was Owen's immediate response. Then, when Barry's words sank in, when he saw the grin on his friend's face, Owen shook his head like his brain was short circuiting. "What? No! No, no, no, no. No. What the hell, man?"
Laughter was bubbling forth from Barry's mouth with ease, a brilliant grin playing across his face. He leaned his arm against the fixed metal muzzle and placed a hand in the middle of his chest, clearly humored by his friend's response. Owen felt his neck and cheeks flare with heat. A month ago he would have tried to play it off as the starts of a sunburn, but he knew damn well that he was blushing, and Barry did, too. As gross as the water in the bucket was starting to look, it wasn't the worst, so Owen dropped into a crouch, plunged his hand into it. He then brought it to the back of his neck, trying to cool off his embarrassment.
"Owen, my man… you and Gwyn are the most obviously into each other people since Romeo and Juliet was first produced," Barry teased lightly. He strode over to where Owen was crouched and dropped to a knee on the other side of the bucket. With a pointed raise to his brows, he continued. "I know you aren't an oblivious man. I know that you recognize that Gwyn's been flirting with you. And you have been flirting back. You were so flustered with having to meet Dr. Alan Grant. And not because he is a famous paleontologist and survivor of the incident of the first park, but because he is Gwyn's father. You wanted to make a good first impression, because that good first impression matters so much if you ask her on a date. Which you should do, by the way. Put everyone here out of their misery."
The seriousness of Barry's little talk was suddenly and sharply diffused by his last statement, which caused Owen to snort. He shot his friend a look––a knowing look. "Misery, sure––you guys probably started a betting pool."
"You are correct, my friend," laughed Barry good naturedly. He dropped a hand on Owen's shoulder; the raptor handler rolled his eyes, though a smirk was pulling at the corner of his mouth. "If you ask her soon, I'll win."
"Yeah, because if I ask the woman I like out on a date it's gonna be because I want you to win your betting pool."
Barry shrugged with a cheeky grin. That grin faded into something softer and more personal. "In all seriousness, Owen, she makes you very happy. It's clear as day. And you seem to make her just as happy. Ask her out. It can only go well."
The corner of Owen's mouth quirked upwards at the reassurance. Barry was right in a number of regards. It would have been hard to not notice that Gwyn had flirted with him, because the very idea of it delighted him so much. And he had only been happy to return the flirtatious comments to see the smile split across her face, see a pinkness not attributed to a sunburn appear on her cheeks. And, yes, she did make him very happy. Almost inexplicably so. It always seemed so simple when people said it––'just ask them out.' But it wasn't so simple. The question is so much more than words; it's a profession, a bearing of emotions that left one feeling bare and vulnerable. It allowed the other party to do what they will with those emotions, be they tenderly accept them or clench them disgustingly tight in a cruel grasp. No matter how well one might figure the outcome will be, it's always a visceral fear.
"We'll see, man… we'll see," Owen exhaled. He pat Barry on the shoulder and rose out of the crouch, going back to work.
By the time nine o'clock had rolled around, Barry had ducked inside to cool off and a very familiar jeep rolled up outside the paddock. It took an uncharacteristically short amount of time for the jeep's engine to be cut and the door to both open and shut. Shut was putting it lightly, however, as it sounded like Gwyn had thrown it shut with all her might. Usually she took her time to get situated––rub sunscreen on her face, slip her sunglasses on, answer any last-minute texts––but something was clearly different. Owen turned his attention towards the jeep and narrowed his eyes against the sun. He could see Gwyn nearly stomping her way towards the paddock, ponytail swinging at the force of her gait. Sunglasses sat perched atop her head, instead of on the bridge of her nose like usual. There was a firm set to her mouth and her eyebrows were furrowed over sharp blue eyes.
"Morning," Owen greeted, tone bright despite the inquisitive look on his face. When there was no response, his brows slowly migrated towards his hairline. "Everything alright?"
Gwyn had come to a stop just outside the cage door and seemed to take a moment to process what she'd been asked. She scrunched her eyes shut and gave a little shake of her head; she lowered her sunglasses and cleared her throat. "Yeah, fine. Sorry. Morning." She gestured to the work going on inside the cage. "Cleaning day?"
Owen quietly scrutinized her expression and her reaction, eyes flickering from the tense set of her lips and the way she'd shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts. "Yeah, it is. Come on in."
He walked over to the panel just inside the door and buzzed her in, nudging the door open with the toe of his boot. When Gwyn slipped by him, Owen couldn't help but notice that the faint scent of sunscreen that usually followed in her wake was not present. As odd as it seemed, the fact that she had not put on sunscreen only furthered his suspicion that something was up, something was wrong. Concern started to pull his eyebrows together, and tempted the corners of his lips into a frown. He pulled the door to the cage shut again, mashing his lips together as he contemplated a course of action. Pushing her about whatever was bothering her would likely lead to her stubbornly refuse to speak about it. Prying would get him nowhere; waiting till she told him––if she wanted to tell him––seemed the best way to go.
"What're we cleaning?" Gwyn asked, raising her brows gently. He cleared his throat and lifted his hand to bring attention to the damp rag he clutched.
"The muzzles. There should be another rag in the bucket." Owen nodded to the soapy, murky water in the plastic pale.
With a nod, Gwyn took up the waterlogged rag that Barry had left behind. She squeezed it tightly, knuckles going white, and waited for the water to cease trickling from between her fingers. Owen watched as she set to work with cleaning the muzzles, not even asking which ones had already been cleaned. There was a distracted manner to the way she scrubbed, her thoughts clearly anywhere but where she was. He watched her for a moment, lips pursed, before he returned to the bands of carefully shaped metal he'd been cleaning previously. The two worked in what would have been companionable quiet any other day; but it just felt awkward and uncomfortable. It was, perhaps, the longest time they'd been in each other's presence and not talked––ever. In the whole half of a year they'd known each other, they'd never been so awkwardly silent with one another, not even when they'd first met. Owen didn't like it. It made is skin crawl.
"I want to take the next step with the girls," Gwyn stated.
The statement was sudden and jarring, and certainly not what Owen might have expected her to say. He nodded and rubbed at some soapsuds left on the muzzle; he cleared his throat and raised his brows. "Alright." After a moment, he snapped the rag away from the metal and turned to look at Gwyn with gently furrowing brows. "What do you mean by 'next step?' 'Cause I don't know if we're on the… same page as to what that––"
"I want to get closer," Gwyn informed in an almost terse manner, her words well annunciated. The tone of her voice was reminiscent of the night that she'd torn the park guest a new one at her lecture. But she was still not being as clear and concise as she usually was and Owen's brain was grasping for potential answers.
"Closer as in… emotionally or––"
"Physically."
It felt like someone had hit Owen across the back of the head with a frying pan. Of all the things he might have thought Gwyn would have suggested, that was not one of them. He had agreed to help her face her fear of velociraptors, yes, but he had never envisioned Gwyn asking to touch them. And it was never––and had never––been in any of his plans to ask her to get closer, or to touch one of them.
"Gwyn––"
"Close enough to touch," she specified, still not looking at him.
"Gwyn, I don't know if that would be… beneficial," Owen stated slowly.
"Oh, my god, I am capable of making my own decisions!" Gwyn suddenly exclaimed. Her attention snapped to Owen suddenly, her eyes ablaze with an annoyance that seemed too strong to not have been building up. It was heated enough for him to rock back on his heels a bit in response. "I'm tired of people telling me that the decisions I'm making for my own betterment are wrong! Jesus Christ." The rag in her hand was hurled at the ground, where it hit with a wet smack. She turned away from Owen and pressed her hands over her eyes, making a disgruntled sound in the back of her throat.
There was a long, quiet moment, during which Owen twisted his own rag around his fingers. Francis and Jim had poked their heads in from inside the paddock, matching looks of concern painted across their faces. Owen was quick to wave them off with an expression that clearly read as 'get a move on.' They were just as quick to disappear as they were to appear, Jim mouthing 'sorry' before he resumed his raking. Again, there was a quiet moment, this one heavier than the previous silence. Owen cleared his throat and scratched his fingers along his jaw.
"So, uh… I take it that you were lying earlier when you said you were fine," he stated.
Gwyn's head dropped to hang between her shoulders, her hands migrated to her hips, and a long sigh pulled through her lips. "I'm sorry."
"What's got you so worked up, I haven't seen you like this since your lecture."
Whatever she was about to say was preceded by a snort, and Gwyn turned around with a look both tired and wry. "Well, I got a lecture this morning. From my dad. He just… he still treats me like I'm eleven sometimes, like I can't make decisions for myself." She bent at the waist and snatched up the rag she'd just tossed. With a couple of aggressive snaps, Gwyn tried to shake the dirt off and grimaced when she realized it had just turned muddy. "He hasn't let go of the fact that I work here, thinks that I'm being stupid."
"I… highly doubt that your father called you 'stupid,'" Owen deadpanned with a raised brow. Gwyn waggled a dismissive hand at him as though to say 'that's not the point' and then dropped into a crouch by the bucket. "I mean, you are his little girl––his only little girl––so he's always going to feel overly protective." Gwyn fixed him with a look so wry and heated it could have dried up the ocean. He raised his hands in a show of innocence, brows arching towards his hairline. "And I imagine he's probably feeling the same way you did when he went off to Isla Sorna."
Gwyn huffed a breath through her nose and gave a sharp shake of her head. "That's different."
Owen's hands dropped and he pulled a face. "Is it though?" He was carefully treading around the question he voiced. He knew full well that one wrong word would have him splashing into the shallow waters of forbidden territory, when all he wanted to do was glance over it so softly it barely made a ripple. "From what you said, you were pissed when your dad flew out to Isla Sorna. You were scared when he was there longer than he said he would be. I can't imagine he's been too happy you decided to come back to where it all began. Can't imagine he doesn't fear for your life every day you're still here."
An unmistakable tension had arrested Gwyn's shoulders at the mention of Isla Sorna. For a moment that was terrifyingly quiet, the paleontologist did not move. She did not speak. It didn't even seem like she was breathing. Then her shoulders slumped and Gwyn fell backwards onto her butt, clamping her head between her hands.
"It's exactly like that, isn't it?" she deadpanned under her breath. There was a breathy laugh and her head slouched forward to hang between her shoulders, elbows braced on her knees. "Shit…"
The rag that Owen had kept clenched in his hand was shoved half-way into his pocket, its dampness bleeding into the fabric of his cargo pants. He slowly walked around Gwyn and dropped into a crouch in front of her. She didn't acknowledge his presence in any way. With a little grunt, Owen mimicked the way that she'd seated herself on the ground. He tried to think of what to say to soothe her rage. Soothe the guilt that he'd heard in her voice when she'd started to see the situation from Alan's point of view. Owen twisted at the watch on his wrist, the band of it pulling at the hair on his forearms.
"I, uh… know it's probably cliché to say it, but he's probably just saying it 'cause he loves you. Wants you to come home where he knows you'll be safe. Maybe this needed to happen, y'know?"
Unexpectedly, Gwyn snorted. When she lifted her head, she was smiling wryly, the corner of her mouth crooked to the side. "We got into a fight the night he told me he was gonna fly to Isla Sorna. Kinda touched on the same subjects. History just… loves repeat itself, doesn't it?" She shook her head and smoothed a hand through her hair, which was loose around her shoulders despite the heat. The smile on her lips faded into something more thoughtful. "Maybe it did need to happen… to, uh, clear the air."
"Maybe," Owen echoed. Gwyn met his gaze and smiled gently, a silent apology for the way she'd been acting and an equally silent thank you for him talking some sense into her. With the corners of his mouth lifting just a little, he tilted his head to the left. "And if you tell me tomorrow that you still want to get a little closer to one of the girls, we'll do it. Just… cool down and make sure it's what you really want."
The smile that had been lingering on her lips widened a little, and some new sort of look crossed her features. It was gently appreciative and almost admiring. Gwyn let her legs flop to either side and tucked her ankles over each other, bringing herself to sit cross-legged. The rag in her hands was being kneaded between her palms, fingers gently squeezing at the damp fabric. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Now," Owen heaved himself to his feet as he spoke, the word breathy, "let's get to work before the sun drives us inside."
OOOO
That evening, the air was perfectly warm. It wasn't overbearing, just warm enough to be comfortable despite the cling of humidity. The breeze was gentle and teasing, tugging at hair that had been damped by sweat repeatedly through the day. Both the air and the breezes that cut through it smelled of tropical foliage, a scent both grassy and sweet, earthy and floral. The sky was painted in a brilliant gradient of pink, orange, and yellow, like it had been torn from some kind of postcard and flung into reality. The view of that picturesque sunset was perfect from the deck of Gwyn's bungalow, providing a perfect backdrop for what was turning out to be a––thankfully––relaxing evening. Owen was stood at the small grill shoved into the corner of the deck, watching the hamburger patties sizzle away with a dutiful eye. Alan was seated in a deck chair, beer bottle in hand, eyes shut and head leaned back in the very picture of relaxation. Gwyn was inside, singing quietly to herself as she worked on getting all the burger fixings together.
Both of the Grants had, apparently, had a sit-down talk once Gwyn had returned from the paddock, sussing out how the other felt regarding their argument that morning. According to Gwyn, the talk had been heated. There was still some contention between the two regarding the indefinite amount of time she was going to spend on Isla Nublar, but Alan had apparently apologized for other comments made during their spat. What comments those were, Owen did not know, but didn't make a point of asking what they were.
"Y'know, for all the faults this place has, the evenings are kinda nice," commented Alan.
A quick glance revealed that his eyes were still shut, face bathed in both the golden light of the sunset and the light cast from the lanterns strung over the deck. Owen looked out over the lake, which glittered in the dying light of the day. In the distance, Mount Sibo cut a dark shape into the otherwise beautiful sky.
"Yeah, they are. Gwyn said that the sunsets here sometimes remind her of the ones back in Montana. In the Badlands. Said that everything ends up looking all… gold, or orange, like everything's on fire," Owen recalled. He started to wedge a spatula under the hamburgers, shoveling them off onto a waiting plate one after another.
A thoughtful grunt proceeded Alan opening his eyes to squint into the golden light. "Everything in the Badlands is just sorta… tan. So, I guess if the sunset looks like this the earth might look like it was on fire," Alan mused. With the burgers safely off the grill, Owen snagged his beer off the railing and sank down into the deck chair perpendicular to the paleontologist's. "Seems like you remember a lot of things Gwyn says."
Owen froze up a little at the comment, beer bottle poised at his lips, feeling Alan's sharp gaze trained on his face. He finished taking a sip of his beer before he raised his brows and cleared his throat.
"She says a lot of compelling things. I keep trying to convince her to write some of it down, but she's convinced she'd be an awful writer."
"Says that shit about her writing being too clinical, right?"
"Exactly that," Owen agreed.
"Stubborn girl…" Alan chuckled under his breath. Owen's chuckle soon joined Alan's, both men sitting easily in each other's company. Soon enough the chuckling died down and they were left to listen to the chirping and buzzing of insects intermingle with the sound of Gwyn's quiet singing from inside the bungalow.
A quiet moment passed before Alan set his bottle down atop the cooler in a movement that seemed dreadfully deliberate. He folded his hands over his stomach and cleared his throat in the way only a father could. Owen chewed his lips for a second. He became keenly aware that the famous paleontologist was staring him down again; it was an intense look, unignorable. He marveled at how Gwyn could have grown up under that stare––and then supposed that was why she was so good at holding up under pressure.
"Mr. Grady," Alan started on an exhale, "I don't know what your… intentions are with Gwyn…"
Owen felt his chest constrict at those words. His eyes widened a little on their own volition, gaze snapping to the older man, whose eyes were locked on him unwaveringly. The beer bottle between Owen's hands was hugged tightly between his palms, which suddenly seemed a little more damp, and not just because of condensation.
"I, uh…" he choked out, only to be cut off almost immediately.
"I don't know if you want to… date her or… anything of that sort. Don't know if you see her as a sister," it was here that Alan fixed him with a particularly wry look, voice dropping into a deadpan, "doubt it, but it's an option." Alan's voice momentarily lifted out of the deadpan as he continued. "Maybe a close friend." He leaned forward and his gaze intensified; there was a glint in his eyes that told Owen he knew exactly how the Navy Man felt about his daughter. "Regardless of intent I have this to say: you hurt her––in any way––and you will wish you fell into your raptor pen. Gwyn is my little girl. My only little girl. She's strong. Resilient. But she's also sensitive, the most empathetic person I know. She takes things to heart. If I so much as hear that you caused her to cry… so help me god, I will be on the next plane out here and nothing will stop me from getting to you. Do you understand?"
The heat of Alan's gaze was almost uncomfortable. His threat was not empty. Owen fully believed that if Gwyn so much as breathed a word against him, stating that he'd upset her, Alan would not hesitate to fly back to Isla Nublar. He believed that Dr. Alan Grant would give his own life for his daughter's; he would protect her with everything he had till his dying day. She was his world.
"Yes, sir," Owen confirmed. His expression had sobered significantly, though his heart was hammering inside of his chest. Those two words, ones that he had spoken countless of times to superior officers, were easy to say. But the emotion behind them was new. They had once been spoken crisply to convey that he understood orders. But now they had been spoken in a voice so laden with understanding that it had come out almost hushed.
A moment after Owen had spoken, Alan nodded his head slowly, and leaned back in his chair. He let out an almost contented sounding breath and picked his beer bottle back up. And just as he picked his up, Owen set his down. Before he could open his mouth to say something––assure Alan that he never intended to bring Gwyn any harm––the woman in question appeared at the screen door. She was balancing a stack of plates in her hands, trying to carefully lower herself into some semblance of a crouch so she could open the door. Owen forwent his comment and instead rose to his feet, bounding towards the door with an outstretched hand.
"Let me get that for you," he offered, pushing down on the lever handle before he pulled the door open.
"Thank you," Gwyn said. She darted her eyes at the handle on the door, gaze accusatory and sharp, as though it had offended her.
"Anything else I can grab for you?"
"Uh, I left the ketchup and the plate of sliced pickles on the counter."
Alan watched as Owen reached out to nudge the package of buns, which sat atop the plates, into a more secure position. Gwyn smiled at him in quiet thanks before she stepped aside so he could slip inside. When he did, her foot shot out to catch and hold the door, which would have swung shut quickly and hit him had she not stopped it. The two had a strange sort of effortlessness to the way that they moved both around each other and in one another's space. It was like they'd known each other for years. Missteps were forgiven silently with a smile, and every movement looked almost rehearsed. It reminded Alan of the way that he and Gwyn moved around their kitchens back in Bozeman, and that caused his chest to tighten just a little, the corner of his mouth pulling down just a bit. For the first time since he'd been introduced to Owen, he started to see the legitimacy of what the future might hold for them. It was entirely possible that, yes, they would end up together. And that meant that, as a father, Alan would have to loosen up on the reigns a little bit, let someone else love his little girl just as much as he did.
"Everything alright, Dad?" Gwyn asked, setting the stack of plates on her small deck table. The corner of her mouth was lifted a little, but her eyebrows were pulled together just a little. With the plates out of her hands, she walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder, her fingers giving a gentle squeeze. "Look a little lost, there."
Alan smiled at his daughter and lifted his hand so he could grasp and squeeze the one on his shoulder. "I'm doing just fine. Just… admiring the sunset."
Afterword: Finally got to the shovel talk between Alan and Owen––it's about damn time, I've had some of that material sitting in my drafts for years. It ended on a more… melancholy note than I had intended, but I think it works.
Review Replies!
SabakuNoGaara426: Surly may as well be Alan's middle name. And I feel like the older he gets, the surlier he gets. I hope you enjoyed more surly Alan! Thanks again!
MsRosePetal: We've got some good stuff coming up in the next couple chapters––I've got it all planned out. Owen and Gwyn have some real good moments coming for them. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
WaywardandWanderlust: Thank you so much! Happy belated holidays, so I hope that you have a happy March! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
crzychigurl343: I think Alan's interrogation of Owen ended up being more of a 'don't you hurt my little girl' moment. But it was just as fun to write! I feel like Claire sometimes get short shrifted, and I wanted to make sure that I didn't just paint her as a villain. I think that it's important (especially in this story) to develop her so she isn't villainized. Claire and Gwyn do have a fair amount in common. They're both very career driven, they're both very strong… and I feel like they'd be friends, given time. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
NicoleR85: I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much as the last! Thanks again!
AugustRrush: Thank you! I hope this chapter was just as good as the last; I had a lot of fun getting to navigate writing it. Thanks again!
LMarie99: There's more cute stuff coming up, I promise; we're getting to the meat of the cuteness of this story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
monkeybaby: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
supboyyyy93: I always realize I sort of end up villainizing the scientists in this story, and that's only for the fact that they're InGen scientists. Because InGen seriously just… never learns their goddamn lesson. So I feel like they have, not only an enormous ego, but an inflated sense of self-importance. Thus why they don't listen to Gwyn. I do think it's important to build a relationship between Gwyn and Claire. I mentioned in another reply that I think Claire gets heavily villainized, and I wanted to stray from that. She and Gwyn have their differences, yes, but they also have a lot they can bond on, and i do think they'd be friends (given the time). And I had a good, fun time thinking about how 'famous' Alan and Gwyn are perceived as; because I think in the paleontology circles, they're, like… George Clooney or something. To the general they're like reality TV stars that people like to turn their attention on whenever they're back in the public eye––not that they would've realized that, as they keep pretty to themselves up in Montana. Alan is a big ol' softie when it comes to Gwyn, and we get a little more of that at the end of this chapter. She's his little girl and he loves her so much. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
AmericanNidiot: Firmly believe that not only could Alan take Hoskins on in a fight, that he'd knock him out while humiliating him verbally. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
suzii3499: Alan's only around for one or two more chapters (for now) but he will be back post-movie! I adore writing him, he's just got these particular character traits that are just so fun to write. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Guest 1: Thank you! I hope you had a good holiday season!
Guest 2: Gwyn, Alan, and Owen are a force to be reckoned with. God help anyone who has their simultaneous rage turned on them… I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
ObsessedFangirl96: Lowery and Alan having a betting pool would actually be… the best. Hoskins is just… inching his way towards getting that punch Owen deals him in JW. Constantly adding more fuel to the fire. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
DreamBubbles: Owen and Gwyn are both oblivious to how obvious they are with their feelings… though they both seem to be a little more open about it. Just a little bit. I hope that you enjoyed the story! Thanks again!
Lucy: Owen is going to be nervous around Alan till Alan explicitly states that he approves, and no time before. And, honestly? I'd probably be the same way. I adore writing them interacting with one another, and I can't wait to write the arc of their relationship. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Angel JJK: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Lmv16: I've had a lot of fun (which feels like a weird word to use) figuring out how the events of the original disaster affect Gwyn as a person in both her personal and work endeavors. Because it doesn't just affect her as a worker on the island, it's influenced her personality and built who she is. I haven't mentioned it in this story because I haven't found the spot to mention it yet, but, yes, Gwyn has definitely kept in touch with Lex and Tim. More so now that they're older. I don't picture them having met up in person terribly often, but they do talk (Gwyn definitely calls Lex for tech support and Tim definitely calls Gwyn to talk about new dinosaur discoveries). And… I may or may not have Tim make a cameo appearance down the line. And I agree with the idea Tim and Owen would either butt heads or become buds… or some combination from the two. I am definitely going to have to take a look at that story, I'm super intrigued. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Lady of Sign: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
TheMorriganWritesAgain: I'm very glad that you've been enjoying the story! And I'm happy that you brought up Gwyn taking up the issue with Masrani; because in all of my planning, I think I've forgotten that Masrani is the kinda the new Hammond of the park, meaning that he is the highest authority of the park. I do think she'd bring it up to him, and you'll probably see that being mentioned/written––so thank you for bringing that to my attention! And I'm happy you like the Frankensaur nickname, I think it just sounds so perfectly like something a Grant would say. Thank you so much; I'm glad you've been enjoying the story!
Scarlet Shayde: I'm big on making sure that relationships come from natural places in stories. Anything too rushed feels fake and icky. So I'm glad that the relationships in this story have come off as natural! And I'm also happy to hear that her backstory isn't just a backstory and that it has meaning (though I hope it's not overbearing). We'll get more on Echo pretty soon, and it will certainly be interesting to see how that carries into the film events. I do have plans for the film, so I'm excited to get to writing it! Thanks again; I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
firehottie: Thank you! Life's been kinda crazy lately, hence the lack of updating, but I'm happy to finally have some time now to update. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
AlphaTurtleTail: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
VampLuver1998: Thank you! I'm very happy that I get to share my writing with those who will read it, and I'm just as happy that you're enjoying it so much. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
And thank you to those that have added this to their follows/favorites; it means so much!
And that's it for now! At a glance we have about… four-ish chapters till the events of Jurassic World begins. I've got it all planned out; this means some of the chapters may be a little longer than average, just to get to everything I want to get to so everything I have planned for the movie events make sense. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thank you all!
~Mary
