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.
39. Unexpected Guests
Upon reflecting on how she reacted to post-trauma life as a child, Gwyn found she'd viewed it in a very singular way. She'd always painted it as being particularly rough because of her age. Everything seemed worse because she was so young, and because she hadn't known how to sit with what had happened to her. But, now, as Gwyn tensely strolled through the grocery store, she realized that was not the case. Because now, at the age of thirty-two, it felt the exact same way. The issues she'd walked off the island with seemed just as big and monstrous. It was hard to do the smallest, simplest things again––like go to Rosauers Supermarket to restock her kitchen. Grocery shopping had started to feel like a chore. It was something she now had to allow time to hype herself up for; more often than not, she spent ten minutes in her car, preparing herself to enter the building.
Because the supermarket felt too big, now. Gwyn found herself paranoid and wondering what was in the next aisle over. Not who, but what. She didn't like how tall the shelving units were, because they obscured her line of sight. She found herself peeking around corners before taking them. She jumped a little when someone rolled their shopping cart past the mouth of the aisle unexpectedly. These were things she could recall feeling as a kid; and here she was, an adult, feeling the same way. Trauma was one hell of a beast, and that was something Gwyn had long since been aware of. And it had chosen to rear its ugly head to remind her of what it could reduce her to.
But for all of the tension-inducing anxiety, Gwyn did a marvelous job at appearing unperturbed. All that telegraphed her anxiety was the tension in her shoulders and the pinch between her brows. And even that could have been construed as a severe contemplation over what jarred pasta sauce to buy. Just as she reached out to grab a jar, she noticed someone coming up the aisle out of her periphery. So she stepped in closer to the shelving unit to allow them by.
"Gwyn Grant?"
Gwyn drew the jarred sauce off the shelf and turned to look at who'd approached. It was a man she didn't recognize, who looked woefully underdressed for the weather. As opposed to her fleece-lined flannel coat, boots, and hat, he wore a leather jacket, expensive looking shoes, and a linen scarf. Her brows furrowed a hair more, expression rife with confusion.
"Yeah?" she drawled.
"I was wondering if I could get a statement?" he asked. It was then that she noticed the tightly clutched phone in his hand. It was open to a voice recording app, and his thumb hovered over the 'start' button. He was a reporter. A goddamn reporter that had snooped out what her local haunts were, just so he could get a quote.
Gwyn's pinched look tensed sharply. "No." She dropped the sauce into her cart––with a noisy clatter––and immediately started to move down along the aisle.
Her heart had started to race. This was new. She'd gotten used to the annoying calls from news stations, and emails from newspapers with requests for quotes. Statements. A short clip to be aired on the seven o'clock news. But not once had someone hunted her down to pester her in person. Things like this didn't happen to Gwyn. For as annoying as all the requests were, she'd learned how to politely decline, or give a measured response. But someone showing up without warning was absolutely bizarre. It happened to celebrities, not her. The man's very presence left her feeling exposed, intruded upon.
"Please, Dr. Grant!" the man pleaded. The sound of his feet against linoleum tiling made it evident he was jogging after her.
"I've already given my statements to the major news outlets," she said in a dangerous deadpan.
"Just a quick word!"
"I already gave you one, it's no."
"But I work––" before the words could leave his mouth, Gwyn wrenched her cart to a stop and spun around. The man tripped over his expensive shoes as he stopped just a few feet short of her.
"I don't care. I've given a blanket statement about what happened, and that should work well-enough for whatever… California tabloid website you're employed at. Are you an independent news blogger? 'Cause you're dressed like it."
The man pursed his lips before he held out his phone, which was still open, but not recording. "The people deserve to know what really happened down there, we're just getting watered-down bullshit on the nightly news."
Gwyn squared her shoulders and grit her teeth. Her fingers curled to allow her nails to bite into her palms. She fixed the man with a look that so many had shrunk away from before; but he, unflinchingly, stared right back, expression persistent. Anxiety was tightening her throat up, it was initiating a fight-or-flight response. Unfortunately for the reporter, her initial reaction was to fight. And while she had a few choice words to spit at him, she had enough sense to keep the edge blunted.
"What happened was a tragedy. A bloody, repulsive mess. And there's––you take your finger away from that button now," Gwyn bit out, having watched as his thumb snuck over the 'record' button. With a visible gulp, the man inched his thumb away. The nastiness she so often tried to keep in check was coming loose. "There's a reason no one's besides reporters want to talk about it right now; and it's because we can't. It's not a breaking news story for us, it's trauma. We're trying to heal. And, quite frankly, being prodded with questions by a stranger in my local grocery isn't helping. We're gonna need more than two weeks––we might even need the rest of our lives! So I'd thank you kindly to leave me alone. To leave everyone involved in this mess, alone. We aren't some… pop-star you can hound down in the street. We're survivors, and you're exploiting our pain."
The man blinked at her, wide-eyed, as so many people did after Gwyn snapped at them. She fixed him with one final stern look, and his hand dropped limply to his side. There was a click as the phone screen locked, and an embarrassed sniff as he glanced over his shoulder. Without knowing whether or not he had some retort––be it a smart remark or an apology––Gwyn turned to leave. She left the grocery cart, and what few items had been inside of it, sat abandoned with the reporter who'd ruined her day. Her heart slammed almost painfully inside her chest. The neckline of her sweater had started to feel restrictive. The steadily healing wounds on her arm started to itch. The noise of the store seemed to elevate. Gwyn walked so fast she was nearly jogging, which drew enough unwanted attention to get a scowl across her face.
By the time Gwyn reached her truck, she felt like a ball of tension. The door was wrenched open unceremoniously, and yanked shut behind her with just as much care. The air inside the cab was cool, but she felt uncomfortably warm. So she wrestled her coat off, balled it up, and shoved it against her face. A yell, frustrated and sharp, was released into the fleece and flannel. Bozeman was a place that Gwyn had always felt safe; felt the safest, in fact. No matter what happened in the world, or what she went through, her home city was safe. But now, with the appearance of that one reporter, that security felt compromised. It turned her stomach to think that if this had happened to her, it could happen to anyone. And for as much as she and Alan loved to call the press vultures––this somehow made them even worse than that.
Gwyn pulled her face out of her coat, slung it at the passenger's side door, and flopped back against her seat. She stared blandly out the windshield, at the grey sky that suddenly matched her mood. It had been two weeks since she'd come home. Not a day went by where she didn't hear about Jurassic World in some aspect. The news, the radio, social media, her work email––it was inescapable. Some days it was an easier pill to swallow. Other days it was impossible to. It had started to look like it would be one of the tough days.
And it was only made worse by the fact that she didn't even get her goddamn groceries.
OOOO
When Gwyn arrived back home, Alan's car was in her driveway. It was with furrowed brows that she tried to recall if he said he'd be stopping by. Nothing came to mind, but it wasn't terribly unlike him to show up unannounced. Sometimes he showed up with a pack of beer, a scowl, and a story to tell. Other times he surprised her with dinner or swung by to help fix the sink. But no matter the reason that Alan was there, Gwyn was thankful that he had such good timing. Because if there was one person that would gripe with her about what just happened, it was him.
Gwyn tromped through the front door, and upon closing it, spotted Alan's jacket on the coat hook by the door. She started to toe her boots off, one hand braced against the wall.
"Dad?" she called out. She kicked one boot aside, just as she heard a chair scrape across the kitchen floor. "I don't know why you're here, but I'm so glad you are. You will not believe what just happened at Rosauers."
The voice that answered was not Alan's––it was softer, lighter, laced with a fond smile.
"Not something horrible, I hope." Ellie Sattler appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, a smile pulled across her face. Everything about her seemed warm––from the coral color of her sweater, to the warmth of her smile. But there was a gleam in her eyes, a melancholic kind of look that tipped her expression into something that was almost sad. "Hi, sweetheart."
It was all Gwyn could do to absolutely gape at Ellie. Of all the things that she would've expected to happen that day, Ellie Sattler showing up out of the blue was not something that she'd expected. And yet it was so very welcomed. Seeing her always felt like a burst of sunshine on an otherwise grey day. Upon entering a room, Ellie brightened it. She brought comfort, warmth, and unyielding support no matter where she went.
"Hi," Gwyn breathed, unable to help how her voice wavered. How it broke in the middle of a single syllable word. Because being reunited with Ellie held just the same weight and emotion as being reunited with Alan. And just like Alan's appearance on Costa Rica, her appearing in the kitchen was just as surprising.
Ellie clicked her tongue, let out an 'oh,' and reached her arms out. She started to walk towards Gwyn, who dropped her coat on the floor and hobbled towards her with one boot still on. Each step clomped as they had when she was a child, when her boots were still too big for her. The moment they were both within arm's reach, they clasped one another in a tight embrace. There was a sudden, overwhelming wash of emotion that crashed over Gwyn. It had her face scrunching up and twisting as tears rushed to closed eyes. Because it had been well over a year since she'd seen the woman she considered a mother. And to be reunited now, in light of everything, was so bittersweet.
"I'm so glad you're safe," Ellie whispered, her hand rising to clasp the back of Gwyn's head. Her fingers pulled through the hair that peeked out from under her hat. It was the simplest, yet most soothing gesture.
A choked sound, caught between a laugh and a cry, left Gwyn's mouth. "I told you as much over the phone," she warbled.
"I know, sweetie, I know." Ellie pulled away just enough to see Gwyn's face. She clasped it between her hands and, with tears in her own eyes, dashed the dampness off her cheeks. She smiled lovingly, if not tearily. "I just had to see for myself."
"You traveled during the worst time of the year to come see I was alright?"
"Of course I did. I love you, sweetheart; you had me worried sick!"
Gwyn sniffled, expression starting to crumble, heart squeezing. "I love you, too."
It was then that Ellie started to fuss over her in the most wonderfully motherly manner. Her fingers swept tears from her cheeks, and then reached out to push hair out of her face. Hands danced along her shoulders, and gently squeezed. The whole time, concern glimmered in her eyes. It tickled the corners of her pursed lips, and pulled her brows together. It was the way a parent checked their child over when they fell off the swingset at a playground. And Gwyn even laughed a little as Ellie took hold of her hands and lifted her arms, like she was trying to check for bodily harm. Not that she'd have been able to see much with the bulk of flannel and fleece.
From the kitchen doorway, a chuckle sounded.
"She's all in one piece, Ellie, don't you worry," Alan drawled. Gwyn's eyes darted to her father, who had been watching with a fond look on his face.
Ellie shot a look over her shoulder; it was wry, but also made it clear she knew he was teasing. "You've had two weeks to fuss over her, Alan, let me have a minute, at least."
Alan raised his hands in surrender, mouth quirking into a smirk. The banter was familiar. It was comforting. It felt like home. In fact, it had Gwyn smiling and completely forgetting the horror show that had been the grocery store. It was like a little family reunion in her living room, and left the stress sliding off her shoulder.
"I'm okay," Gwyn assured. "Just a couple scrapes and scratches, nothing too bad."
At the dismissive qualifier, Alan scoffed. Immediately, both women darted their eyes at him. Gwyn widened her eyes and pursed her lips––a silent imploring to keep the injury on the down-low. And Ellie's face pinched with more concern than previously.
"What kind of scratches?" she asked. It was inquired quietly, gently. It made it clear that she already knew what kind of answer she'd get. There was a pain in the asking the question, because it brought reality back into sharp focus; it reminded them all of the reason why Ellie was there. It wasn't for a fun family reunion––it was because Gwyn had gone through hell again. And it was a hell that she'd kept quiet for the past two weeks. Ellie didn't know what had caused her injuries––and neither did Alan.
Gwyn cleared her throat and glanced down at her feet. One foot was still boot clad and the other was protected by a damp sock. She wiggled her toes and grimaced at the feeling of wet wool. A thumb jutted up and over her shoulder, back at the coat and shoe rack.
"If you, uh… give me a couple minutes to settle in, we can… buckle down and talk," she offered.
"You sure?" Alan asked. He had leveled her with a tight-lipped expression. One that seemed to try and convey that it was okay, even two weeks on, to not be ready to talk. Even if that meant that he and Ellie would remain in the dark for a while longer. Gwyn met her father's eyes and nodded.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm sure. I'd, uh… offer dinner, but I don't have groceries. I can offer wine, however." Gwyn clomped back over to the door and toed her other boot off.
Alan's brow furrowed at the mention of no groceries. He nodded towards the front door with a quick jerk of his head. "I thought you went to Rosauers."
"I did," she sighed. With a wry twist to her mouth, Gwyn flapped a hand at nothing in particular. "I left my grocery cart in the pasta aisle after being ambushed by a reporter."
The wave of surprise that swept through the room was palpable.
"What?" Ellie asked, while Alan simultaneous drawled,
"Beg pardon?"
Gwyn looked up to find herself the subject of two very worried, very parental stares. The kind of looks that silently demanded an immediate answer. The sort of look that one got when sneaking in past curfew. But in response she arched her eyebrows pointedly. "Gimme five minutes. I'll order in pizza or something, there's takeout menus in the kitchen. Circle what you want. Just… five minutes to cool down and get myself ready. Please."
There was a beat of quiet before with a huffed breath, Alan turned back into the kitchen. He muttered something about 'calling up the damn press to give them a piece of his mind.' There was a squeal––the sound of the liquor cabinet door opening––and Gwyn darted a pleading look over at Ellie.
"Could you…?" she trailed off and gestured after her father.
"Yeah, I got it," Ellie promised. There was a faint laugh, which contained a fondness for both father and daughter. She went to follow after the disgruntled man, hands reaching up to push hair behind her ears. "Alan."
Gwyn grabbed her boots and set them on the rack to drip-dry. She then snagged her coat, hooked it beside Alan's––which was draped over Ellie's, she realized––and let out a long breath. Ellie's sudden appearance was lovely; it had turned a sour day sweet again. It even lessened the blow of deciding to recount the living nightmare of Jurassic World. But it wasn't going to be an easy stroll down memory lane. There would be pitfalls. Rough patches. And if Gwyn was going to get through it, she was going to do so in the softest lounge pants, and the snuggliest cardigan.
And with a couple glasses of fortifying wine.
OOOO
It was getting late by the time Gwyn had finished recounting her harrowing tale. It was the first time she attempted to put everything into words; and it proved immensely difficult. She didn't know what details were important, and which ones weren't. What Alan and Ellie should and shouldn't really hear about. What, if anything, she wasn't ready to talk about yet. So there were pauses. Silences as she sought the right phrasing, the right imagery. Pauses had been made for taking emboldening sips of wine, or bites of pizza. Both Ellie and Alan interjected as little as possible, but it did happen. From Alan, it was mostly comments of incompetence, and from Ellie it was quiet reassurances. But they both remained in tense, shocked silence as Gwyn described the horrors of the day. The hiking, the chases, the attacks. The death and destruction she'd witnessed.
And by the time the story had come to a close, the living room was dead silent.
There were tears in Ellie's eyes, and her hand was poised over her mouth.
Alan's jaw was tense, and his knuckles had gone white over the arm of his chair.
And Gwyn quietly waited for one of them to say something. She could practically taste the words 'I'm sorry' on the air. But they wouldn't be spoken, because they all knew how tiring the phrase could be. Of course they were sorry. They didn't need to tell her that. And even if they chose to say so, it was already evident in their eyes. So now came the great struggle of figuring out how to discuss what had happened. What questions to ask, how to answer them. And there were a handful of ways it all could be approached, and Gwyn could predict what method would come from who. Ellie would try to delicately probe, asking questions gently, listening closely. Alan, most likely, would find himself being blunt where he could. He would be careful, of course, but there'd be no beating 'round the bush with him.
"Sweetheart…" Ellie started. She had taken a seat on the opposite side of the couch, body twisted to face Gwyn. But with the story over, she shuffled onto the middle cushion, closer to her. "I'm…" Her mouth dropped open soundlessly, words clearly failing her. Instead, she reached out and grabbed Gwyn's hand and squeezed it tight.
Gwyn's lips quirked to the side a little. "I know," she said. And she did know, to an extent. That Ellie was sorry she'd had to go through it again. That she wished there was something she could do to help. And then there were a dozen other things that she didn't know that Ellie was trying to say; mostly because she didn't either. And Gwyn understood that, too.
Across the room, in an armchair, Alan sat with a hand clasped over his mouth. His eyes were unfocused and distant, like he was able to watch what Gwyn had described. Like he could see everything that happened to her, every terrible, horrible thing. And then, when his hand dropped away to reveal a grimace, his eyes found hers.
"What were you thinking, Gwyn?" Alan asked. His voice broke halfway through the sentence. His eyes had gone misty, his brows had furrowed. Gwyn arched an eyebrow at him, face relaxing in an almost blasé manner.
"Which time?" she asked, chuckling humorlessly.
The laughter, despite its wryness, had Alan's expression twisting in distaste. It appeared that he was actively fighting back tears, now.
"Well, first off, what drove you to think it was okay to go into the jungle, unprotected, with the most deadly pack hunters on the planet?" he asked.
"I was thinking that maybe we'd be able to curb their killer tendencies and prevent further fallout," she explained. She could already feel the momentum of the conversation picking up with Alan's need to get to the root of things, and get to them now. He rocked forward in his chair, lips twisting.
"And why's that? Because you… named them, anthropomorphized them?"
The look on Gwyn's face morphed into an unintentional impression of her father––thinned lips, furrowed brows, a wry look in her eyes. "Something like that, yeah," she deadpanned. Then, with a sigh, she splayed her hands through the air placatingly. It wasn't rare for the Grants to argue; they were too stubborn and like-minded not too. And, surprisingly, it wasn't terribly rare that they argued in delicate situations, either. They never did handle heightened-emotion well. "Promise me you'll hear me out?" Alan's expression tightened. Gwyn shot him a look. "Promise?"
"Alan…" Ellie prompted softly.
From her spot on the couch, she offered a gentle look, one which Alan held with a sharp gaze. But the softness of Ellie's expression seemed to cut right through him. It had his shoulders drooping and a sigh pulling from his nose. He brought a hand up to press his fingertips into the wrinkles of his forehead. The smallest of smiles lifted the corner of Ellie's mouth. Leave it to her to know how to soothe the tough-skinned beast that was Alan Grant.
"Yeah, I promise," he agreed flatly. It was flat because he wanted to get on with it; he wanted to know why Gwyn wanted him to hear her out. Because she knew that he understood that he wouldn't like what was coming.
Gwyn pushed a hand through her hair, and flopped back into the couch cushions. Air puffed out her cheek as she let out a breath.
"I studied those raptors for months. Months, dad. I got to observe things that we'd only theorized––their dynamics, their tendencies, their movements… and I witnessed things I didn't think possible. They don't just have dynamics, they have bonds. Unique bonds with one another, like a real family. And those stretched beyond their own species. They'd started to bond with humans. You should've seen the way they responded to Owen. How… Delta worked with Barry. How Echo…" Gwyn trailed off. She started to rub her hands together, a thick feeling growing in her throat. "How she responded to me… And they weren't like trained circus animals. They operated off of loyalty and respect… and that bond is the reason I'm alive, Dad. If there wasn't some kind of… connection, Echo wouldn't have saved me from Ingrid. The Girls wouldn't have protected us at all."
Despite the evidence presented in her explanation of the Girls' loyalty, despite Gwyn's reasonings, Alan still looked skeptical. It was heavy on his face, causing his browline to hang low over his eyes, his lips to sag into a frown. For velociraptors were the number-one evil in the Grant household. They had been since the moment one of their claws sank into her flesh. They were the subject of pain and nightmares, they were the reason that Alan had almost become childless. Even the slightest concept that they were anything but was foreign. Strange. Unacceptable, almost. And it was very clear that Alan was having a tough time grasping that Gwyn––heavily traumatized by the creatures––seemed to have turned over a new leaf.
"So… what? They make you feel all warm and fuzzy, now?" Alan deadpanned.
Gwyn stared at him flatly. "No, they don't. I'm not gonna start a campaign to go back to Isla Nublar and give them a hug," she drawled. She rubbed her hands over her face. "I just… I've come to realize there's still so much about them that we don't know. We thought they were hyper-intelligent before, but now… they seem to have hyper emotional intelligence, too."
"It's… remarkable, what you described," Ellie admitted. Her comment shattered the gathered tension between father and daughter. It had both individuals adjusting themselves with a sigh. If she hadn't interrupted, the arguing could have carried on for hours. "I never would have thought… not after what we'd seen before."
"It's almost too good to be true," Alan drawled. And it was evident that he very much believed it. The grimace on his face turned into a full blown scowl, which made him look years older than he was. "They are hyper-intelligent; which means they're perfectly capable of pulling off a rouse. Create a method of allowing their prey to feel comfortable with them before they attack."
The comment was very typical of Alan. It was something that Gwyn could hear him saying at a lecture, or on a dig site to a bunch of student paleontologists. She knew that just because she said that the Girls had displayed emotional intelligence, had demonstrated a close bond with human companions didn't mean he'd believe her. Not right off the bat, and not without arguing. It wasn't something he'd come round to by the end of the night. Probably not even by the end of the year. But the door to discussion was open, having been firmly kicked in by Alan Grant's wool sock clad foot.
"Yeah, they probably are. If things hadn't gone to shit, there was a lot more research that could've been done…" Gwyn started to pick at a loose thread on the couch's arm. "On more than just the raptors…" Her thoughts drifted to Ingrid. On all the work that could've been done to prevent what had happened. At all the precautions that had been ignored. At the look in the Indominus Rex's eyes as she stared Gwyn down on Main Street.
She felt that her expression had started to shift, falling and tensing. Ellie clucked her tongue in worry.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked.
A smile flitted across Gwyn's face at her concern. She turned that smile on Ellie and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It's nothing. Just…" the hatred in Ingrid's eyes flashed through her head again, and her smile started to feel strained, "a lot to recount, y'know?"
Ellie reached out with her other hand, and stroked hair out of Gwyn's face. She smiled empathetically. Her hand then dropped to her cheek, where it sat warm and comfortingly. "I know. But you did it, and that's an acknowledgment that it's all passed now. You're two weeks removed from all that, and you're gonna get better. I promise, sweetie," Ellie reassured.
Gwyn nodded and then dropped her head to Ellie's shoulder. The older woman hummed sweetly and wrapped her arms around her, enveloping her in the most comforting warmth. It was there, in the neck of Ellie's sweater, that Gwyn hid her twisted, guilt-stricken expression. She'd not mentioned the recognition she'd seen in Ingrid's eyes. The accusation. The blame that it placed on her as the instigator of the whole disaster. She knew that she should tell them––but she knew the response she'd get. She'd be told it wasn't her fault, that she shouldn't place the blame on herself. Owen had already said it, so had Alan. They both believed it, both came from a good spot when they said it. But it still felt hollow to Gwyn. Because she felt that she'd seen so much evidence to the contrary. It felt just as she came to terms with one thing––her fear, who she was, who she'd become––something else rose to bother her, begging her to bottle it up––the blame, the guilt.
"So," Alan said, tone markedly lighter than before. "What about this reporter at the grocery store?"
Gwyn groaned and slumped against Ellie, as both women simultaneously spoke:
"Dad."
"Alan!"
OOOO
"He means well," Ellie reassured. She was sat on Gwyn's bed, dressed down in some comfortable pajamas, legs crossed beneath her. There was a lovely little smile on her face, and her eyes shone fondly for the man she spoke of. It was the result of years of love and companionship.
A smile quirked at the corner of Gwyn's mouth. She let her head drop back against her headboard with a solid thunk. "I know."
Alan had left some ten minutes earlier, grumbling about needing to work the next morning. Things had been considerably more tense following his griping about Gwyn's changing opinion about the raptors. And with his departure, the atmosphere had lightened. He was dearly loved by both women; but it was clear that his mood had been soured beyond salvation, at least for the evening. And Gwyn had long since learned to leave sleeping bears lie––especially when that bear was a grumpy paleontologist, whose ideals were being questioned. There was nothing worse than prodding Alan Grant when he was in a mood.
"We both know how stubborn he is. Give him a bit and he'll be more open minded about talking. I just don't think he expected… that…" Ellie arched her eyebrows. Then her lips twisted into a frown. "I didn't expect that…"
"Neither did I…" she admitted quietly. Gwyn hugged her knees up into her chest, and shrugged. "I knew that talking about the Girls was gonna be tough for him. He was already so skeptical…"
Ellie shifted her weight around a little, the mattress bouncing gently beneath them. The softness of her expression started to wane, leaning back towards the visage of a concerned parent. "He just needs time. For as much as you went through when you were a kid… this time was…" she shook her head, eyes gleaming with sorrow. "It's terrible, as a parent, to realize you weren't there to protect your child. To not have been able to have prevented you seeing the horrors you did. It tore me apart listening to you; I can only imagine how Alan felt. Listening to you describe all of that… death and destruction…"
The look that had crossed Alan's face when Gwyn had mentioned standing before Rexy, flare alight––it was shattering. He'd looked horrified. Like there was a terrified reprimand on his lips, one he was too overwhelmed to voice. It wasn't something Gwyn had expected he'd have taken well; nor something he'd have been proud of. But she could tell, in that moment, he could recall every feeling he'd felt while standing before a t-rex, with lives on the line. And that he struggled to come to terms that his daughter had felt the exact same way.
Gwyn's lips twisted into something caught between a frown and a grimace. "Yeah…" she murmured.
"Let's talk about something else," Ellie offered after a quiet moment. Gwyn hummed to agree, and scrubbed a hand over her face. A girlish smile pulled across Ellie's face and she clasped her hands over her ankles. "Tell me about Owen."
Just the mention of his name changed the mood of the room. Gwyn smiled, wide and warm.
"Alright," she agreed with a soft laugh. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything and everything––especially what you don't tell Alan." She whispered the last part conspiratorially, which sent both women into a bout of laughter. Owen, of course, had come up in conversation between them before. Ellie had, in a very motherly manner, always asked to be kept updated on Owen. She'd stated that she'd known Gwyn had a thing for him––'a mother's intuition,' she'd joked later––from the beginning. And now they got to have such a 'ladies' night' conversation in person; and it was a welcomed atmospheric change.
"Well, what's dad told you?" Gwyn countered curiously. For as much as she trusted Alan's unspoken approval of the man, she knew he must've had some choice words for and about him.
"That he's headstrong," Ellie laughed. "Stubborn. Got steadfast opinions, a strong work ethic."
Gwyn snickered. "He's not wrong… takes a headstrong, stubborn, steadfast, hardworking man to know one." Her wide smile waned into something gentler. It softened the whole look on her face, and even the tension in her body seemed to melt away. "He's so sweet, Ellie," she murmured moonily. "I don't think many people would figure that upon first meeting him. 'Cause he's got the whole… roguish ex-military persona going for him. But he's really the sweetest."
"Yeah?" Ellie's voice was light and airy. It sounded just like the smile that was stretched across her face.
"Yeah," Gwyn echoed sweetly. "I woke the poor man up when I had a night terror once. He let me… cry into his shirt, keep him up late, and then he woke up early and made me pancakes. It's little things like that, y'know? We went to the annual gala together, which I was… not looking forward to, 'cause the higher ups and I didn't mix well. So he sat on the stairs with me and just talked. Even pulled me aside and got me to dance with him; to music he played off his phone." The fondness of her voice was reflected in her expression. But that fragile gentility slowly shifted into something a little melancholic. "And he stuck with me. When shit went south, he was with me. Through all the tears, the anger, the fear… he was there the whole time. And he was there without judgement. Never told me to… suck it up or anything. He understood. Most people would've turned tail and run, I think. But he didn't."
All the tension in Gwyn's body had fled. She felt as though she'd been wrapped in a warm blanket of security, provided by a person over a thousand miles away. It was remarkable how that worked. How she could care for someone so strongly that it didn't matter how far away they were––just the mention of their name could make her feel better. It stirred a fluttering feeling in her stomach, had the smallest yet dopiest smile lifting the corners of her mouth. It was something insurmountably special. Something that defied words, almost.
"He sounds great," Ellie said, beaming.
Gwyn smiled a little wider. "Yeah, he is," she agreed.
She watched as Ellie drew her legs up to her chest and wound her arms around them. With her chin dropped down atop her knees, she looked like a little kid at a sleep-over. It was always easy to forget that she, too, had been through what Gwyn had. Had seen the horrors that she did. Because, despite all that, she still smiled brightly, loved wholly, and floated on optimism. Simultaneously she was remarkably determined, a force to be reckoned with. Gwyn counted herself incredibly lucky that she got to call Ellie her mother; that Ellie had always been okay with her doing so. And it was that motherly warmth that was bestowed upon her in the form of a loving smile.
"Do you love him?" Ellie asked.
The question had Gwyn's muscles locking up. The smile on her face froze––it tensed. She dropped her eyes to her lap as the question throbbed in her chest, just in time with her heartbeat. When she became self-conscious with how long she was taking to answer the question, Gwyn cleared her throat.
"Isn't it, uh… isn't it too soon to tell?" she asked, voice wavering. She glanced up at Ellie sheepishly. This wasn't the sort of stuff that she talked about. She'd never really been able to with Alan––who navigated the subject of romance with all the delicacy of an elephant. And whenever she'd breached the topic with friends in college, it just felt so awkward to her. Gwyn crossed her arms over her chest. She started to pick at the tape over the gauze on her bicep. "We haven't really been together that long, not 'officially' at least."
Ellie's eyes danced across Gwyn's face for a contemplative moment. Then, with a fond little chuckle, Ellie scooted up the length of the bed. She settled back down beside Gwyn, who watched her every movement like a child that was quietly eager to hear what was about to be said. The room was quiet for a moment. Ellie reached out with a smile and took Gwyn's hand.
"Sometimes you just know," she said. "Sometimes love is born out of the smallest things. The way someone smiles at you in the morning, when you know you look terrible. The sound of their laugh. The fact that they stop to hold doors for people. You've known Owen for longer than the time you've been together. No one says that love can only bloom in the confines of a relationship. Sometimes…" the sweetest of small smiles crawled across her face, "sometimes it's always there, and you just don't see it for a while."
Those words worked like a salve. They soothed the burning ache that the question had caused. Gwyn let out a little sigh through her nose, gaze going soft. She thought about the half-asleep look on Owen's face when he picked up their early morning video calls. The way his lips parted cutely when his brows furrowed in quiet frustration. The smile that had struck her dumb upon their first meeting. Slowly, a smile started to lift the corners of her mouth.
"Yeah, I think I do," she practically whispered. Ellie squeezed her hand, and her smile grew wider, more confident. Her stomach fluttered and a sweet little laugh passed between her lips. "I love him."
Afterword: Sorry for how long it's been––but I needed to take a wee bit of a break. I think I burned myself out just a bit; that, and my mental health took a mid-quarantine nose dive, and it was not fun. But I let myself step back, recuperate, recharge, and I'm feeling better. I wasn't very happy with where the chapter was previously, but now I'm pretty happy with where it ended up. Thank you all, again, for being so patient with me!
Review Replies!
NicoleR85: We finally got Ellie back into the story! I've been so looking forward to getting her back in, even if it's just for a tiny bit right now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MsRosePetal: The long distance thing, though not initially planned, has been great for thinking of those tiny little moments. The video call from the last chapter was so much fun to write––far too cute. No Owen (in person) this chapter, but we'll get some more Gwyn/Owen moments in the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AmericanNidiot: Yeah, the press is gonna be a fairly consistent mention for this story; 'cause the difference in how we handle tragedy/disasters now is so… weird. So I wanna touch on how that might affect the people directly correlated with said tragedy/disaster. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
god of all: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
AlchemyWriter: Ahh, yes, Joe in BohRhap––what a performance for him. I love watching stuff that he's been in/directed, a lot of it is very underrated (in my opinion, at least). I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
darling-stories: No Tim this chapter… but… next chapter we may have some Tim content. I'd contemplated some big romantic gesture as a Christmas gift, but then something in my head went 'Mrs. Grady would not be letting her son out of her sight for weeks after he came home.' (I did, however, figure out what they both got each other for Christmas). But their swiftly approaching reunion will be… so cute. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
EnJay: I'm really happy that last chapter came at a time to help cheer you up! And, again, I'm still very flattered that you've enjoyed this story so much! We'll get some in person, reunited Gwyn/Owen very soon––and I'm so looking forward to writing it. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
TheHatterM: There'll be a lot of exploring the facets of Alan and Gwyn's father-daughter relationship. Which we already see in this chapter––how they get on one another's cases easily in tense situations. I've had a lot of fun navigating Gwyn and Owen's relationship, and how it's developing in their time apart. And it's going to be interesting to see how it develops and changes once they're back together. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AkariWolfPrincess: I figured that Gwyn is the type of person to go 'I've got a thick skin, I can handle this'; only to realize it's not in her best interest to try to grin and bear it. Because if I'd gone through what she'd gone through, I would've rented a house in the middle of nowhere for a solid three months to avoid it all. And I had so much fun with the Owen/Gwyn video call last chapter. It's really the first chance I'd gotten to delve into how soft these two really are. And I can't wait to keep exploring that. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
MageVicky: I'm glad that it was a good filler chapter! I try and make sure that my 'filler' chapters hold some kind of important information/plot device. There was a lot in this chapter I edited out 'cause it was just… a lot of reworded accounts of what's happened in other chapters. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest 1: Recovering from a major trauma is always different for every person, and it affects them differently, so I've taken care to figure out Gwyn's healing process. Because she's also in the unique position where this is sort of a double-whammy, history-repeated situation. Which I can only imagine would just… suck so much. I thrive on Grant family moments; even when they get a bit snippy like in this chapter. And we'll have more Owen/Gwyn moments next chapter! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Angel JJK: I had considered either Owen or Gwyn showing up on the other's doorstep for New Years––but I was like 'I dunno if they'd want to travel so soon after everything, no matter how much they miss one another.' But… their reunion is nigh… sooner than one may think. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Raider-K: I'm glad (and relieved, honestly) you're enjoying the current sub-focus of the recovery process. Because, you're absolutely right––they're still on their emotional journey. And it's going to affect a lot of stuff. Even for characters like Alan. He wasn't there, but his fear and horror at what Gwyn experienced has set him on his own journey. And right now, his defensiveness is making him guarded and snippy; and Gwyn (like father, like daughter) is reciprocating that reaction in kind. And the awkward 'I miss you's last chapter were something I lived for while writing. And we'll get more Owen/Gwyn next chapter, and their reunion swiftly approaches! I'm also glad you're a fan of how I've been writing to Alan. This chapter was difficult, because for as much as I was like 'supportive dad!Alan' I was also like 'no way in hell he's having a collected, calm conversation about this.' I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
msbeku1: In writing Alan, I always have to keep in mind, one, the way he is in canon, and, two, how I originally wrote him as a dad. Because he's come a long way from being a tentative, though loving, father. But there's still that Alan-ness to him where being gentle is just… so hard. Subtlety is not a gift for the Grants.
Oftentimes when I write about the press/media for this story, it's skewed because Gwyn is the main focus of the story. Her relationship with it is strained at best. And I think that the media (tabloids, or tabloids claiming to be news sites mostly) has become much more invasive in recent years. Which is what I wanted to touch on in this chapter, because I fully believe that in a world where something like this happened, they'd be chasing down big named survivors for the best scoop.
I think that I've had others use "Gwen" as a pairing name, alongside "Owyn" (who knew their names were so similar it would make it hard to create a ship name?). But the fluff from the last chapter was, hands down, some of the best fluff I've ever written, I think. They're so soft despite the fact that they present battle-hardened, sarcastic, charming exteriors. I can't wait till they're back together, 'cause it's gonna be so fun.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again! And again, hope you're doing well and staying safe!
Duchess of Lantern Waste: I'm so glad that you've enjoyed the story so much! And I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter, too! Thanks again!
Makokam: I spent a while pondering the whole 'what state of dress is Gwyn in when she gets home.' 'Cause I did consider Alan bringing spare clothes; and then settled on the fact that he'd be so incensed with fear that he'd either forget to, or worry that he'd take clothes only to not have a daughter to give them too. It also seemed like a subtle (very subtle) nod to the fact that I think that it's just something Alan wouldn't have considered in the first place. I also contemplated the purchasing of sweatpants at the airport. But I ultimately landed on the idea that Gwyn was not living with cotton pulling over fresh scabs.
And it being winter for Gwyn's return was, as you said, a perfect thematic setting. Because she really is in this pessimistic, depressed, dreary mindset upon returning from Isla Nublar. And life really just seems, to her, to be bumbling along without rhyme or reason. It's just sort of dragging her along while she tries to figure out what she's going to do next.
I'm still waiting for the right moment for Gwyn to really delve into the Ingrid stuff. Because I believe she's the kind of person that internalizes a lot of her pain and frustration. To the point that it sort of just boils and bubbles till she's like 'I can't take this anymore.' Which is, sort of, what happened to drive her to go to Isla Nublar and accept the job in the first place.
I'm also no expert in being so physically exhausted, I just figured that even with a good night's sleep you'd still be stiff. Because I know when I overexert myself, I'll wake up feeling like my whole body never wants to move again.
I skipped over a lot of the initial 'I'm home, I'm alive, I'm okay' calls to family and friends, 'cause they'd all just end up being the same. The only difference would really be the other person's reaction (for example, where Ellie would probably have been tearfully relieved, Tim would have been rambling like his life depended on it). But we will catch up with other characters, where their reactions will be briefly explained or mentioned.
I think that, for as brief as it was, that Owen/Gwyn conversation was really very important for them. It's the first time, away from the island––and the horror––that they've had a chance to luxuriate in their newfound relationship. And I'm really happy that it read well! I'm looking forward to getting to write more such moments. 'Cause these two are just two love-struck dorks that aren't sure how to navigate being in love yet.
There's a couple more chapters (maybe two or three, I believe) before it transitions over to a new story. And I'm looking forward to really getting to delve into what I've got plans. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest 2: I'm so glad that you enjoyed this story, and its prequel, so much! I've had a lot of fun defining Gwyn as a character, and writing her story. It's been some of the most fun that I've had writing for any character/film. And I do plan on having Gwyn in the third installment of JW; I'm very excited to see how they incorporate our favorite JP originals. But it also means that once I finish Fallen Kingdom, I'll have to wait in agony till the next one comes out to start planning anything past FK. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Guest 3: (First, I can't tell if this review got bumped to the first chapter last chapter, or the chapter before that, so I'm sorry if this got lost in translation!) We'll get more details of Alan's view on Echo, Ingrid, and Rexy in the future. He needs time to process it all on his own, and I think Gwyn needs a little longer to heal in order to really delve into deep conversation about it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
And thank you so much to all that have added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
That's it for now; I really hope that I can get a chapter up fairly soon. I'm feeling okay now, so let's keep fingers crossed! But the next chapter will be fun––more Owen, and a few special guests! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter; and I have to thank you all, again, for being so lovely and patient.
Love y'all!
~Mary
