HOLY COW I DID NOT EXPECT SO MUCH ATTENTION FOR ONE CHAPTER IS THE REAL LIFE OR IS IT JUST FANTASY. Ahem. I am so grateful for all of your reviews and favorites and follows, like seriously. Like, I usually really suck at updating, but I had this ready in like three days wow.

*Warning: there are mentions of animal death so if you're not comfortable with that you can skip over the section that begins with "Owen is five years old and his dog is dying" if you want. Just thought I'd warn just in case.

Disclaimer: Sadly I am only a lonely highschool girl with too much time on her hands. I don't own Jurassic Park/World.


There is awareness. With this awareness comes the darkness, deep and so black it is a void. The air is stale and thick with her own scent, her limbs feel heavy and burdened with a sticky fluid that restrains her movement in the enclosed space that is her prison. She struggles against her fluid bonds, tapping at the walls around her in an attempt to find weakness. She's curled up tightly, the space warm but unbearably tight and she scratches fiercely against the thick walls.

Finally, a crack. She taps furiously against it, crowing triumphantly when the void is penetrated by light. The new sensation is piercing and she has to blink a few times to adjust to the lack of darkness.

She looks out at the new world, white and bright and different. It takes little more effort to smash through the rest of her prison, and suddenly the whiteness and brightness becomes so much more intense. Excitement and wonder mingle with hesitance and terror. It's freedom, but it's unfamiliar and she feels the need to curl up into a small ball, panicked chirps rushing through needle sharp teeth.

She startles when she hears an answering peep behind her and she turns to find another creature covered in the same sticky fluid as her. They are the same, she thinks, scared and unsure and looking for something comforting.

They sense it almost simultaneously.

Something far in the distance, a beacon, a fire, something far brighter and stronger than anything they've experienced so far. It's warm but it neither burns nor consumes and they race toward it, shredding through fragile defenses. They curl themselves around it, bury themselves in it until they're so intertwined they can't tell where they end and the beacon begins. This is different, but it's a good different. This is home, this is what they crave.

This is the light they don't ever want to leave.

Except, now they're being pulled away. They're being torn from each other and from the warm beacon and it hurts, the grasping hands are so very cold. She's back in her own body and she's not happy. She and her sister are being separated so they fight, they hiss and scratch and spit, drawing blood and not feeling an ounce of guilt for it.

They're put down, but the strange, huge creatures in white are still reaching out, still trying to take them away. She snaps at the reaching limbs, her sister's doing the same and all she really wants is to find the warm beacon again.

She wants to feel that sense of belonging. The sense of home.

Another creature in white appears, its eyes glinting dangerously. It says something, voice sharp and low, clearly an order. The other creatures in white (now stained with scarlet) flinch at its tone. She doesn't care and neither does her sister. Of its few words, they understood two. It's familiar, a name they had heard echoing within the beacon's warmth, connected to the beacon. It's a name, the name of their beacon.

Owen. They want Owen Grady.


Owen is five years old and his dog is dying.

He's shivering, the feeling of ice shards in his veins leaving him frozen despite the heat of the afternoon. His dog feels cold. The world around him is a blur and there doesn't seem to be much else besides his dog's chilling body, the lush grass beneath his crossed legs, and himself.

Except, he doesn't feel like he's there. Owen feels distant, faded, like the feeling he gets when he starting to fall asleep while watching tv and voices and actions begin to mesh together. He feels so old, stiff in the bones, but something tells him that these sensations aren't his. He rubs a tiny hand over his dog's big golden head, but even her soft fur is cool.

His grandmother finds him, surprisingly deep in the woods where he had wandered off. She gasps in surprise at the ruby liquid splashed on her grandson's arms and soaking into the dog's side. She pulls him away, easily severing the connection (his abilities are only just developing) and wipes him down with the handkerchief in her pocket. He comes back to himself slowly, the sun's rays thawing away the feeling of freezing from the inside out.

"You can't make connections like that anymore, Owen," his grandmother says, sounding more like she's whispering from far away than standing right beside him.

"Connections like that are dangerous."


Owen is ten years old and he's starting to realize that he's not quite like the other children. It both scares and thrills him.

He's a tiny little slip of a boy, composed of scrawny arms and knobby, band-aid covered knees. His bright red hair has him standing out like flare in the dark and this is all fine until the other boys decide he's an easy target. They think he's weird. They don't understand why he prefers to sit by himself with his animal books or why the one stray cat who literally hates everyone follows him around like a duckling.

It leaves him just a little resentful. It's not his fault they can't hear the bird's cheerful conversations through the classroom windows or feel the cat's annoyance at everyone trying to pick him up. He comes home with scrapes and bruises more often than not and sometimes it's okay and sometimes it's not.

Sometimes it doesn't matter at all because his new dog is rubbing against him, shooting warmth-comfort in pleasant bolts. Now, though, he knows better than to make a connection.


Owen is fifteen and he no longer needs to be in contact with an animal to be washed in tidal waves of emotion.

There's a constant migraine now, a throbbing or a beating of drums that doesn't let sleep come easy. Bird chatter feels like he's being peppered with small, sharp rocks and a dog's bark comes like a punch to the gut.

He builds shields.

They're thin, flimsy little things, like a cardboard wall around a nuclear core, but they do the job. The migraine becomes a headache and even that fades into a dull ache that he quickly becomes accustomed to. It's far better than the nauseating pain of too many voices and emotions milling in one place.

Then comes the day he encounters the mountain lion.

He's alone, taking the bike trail home, brushing through dark green foliage and kicking up storm clouds of dust behind him. It's late afternoon and the sun's beginning to sink behind dark clouds. Chilly air nips at his nose and ears, burns lightly in his lungs. He feels her before he sees her.

Owen comes to an abrupt stop, staring deep into woods and through underbrush to find a pair gleaming gold-green eyes. She roars and all of Owen's carefully constructed walls come tumbling down, leaving them as useless as crumpled paper. He claps his hands over his ears, not because her voice is terrible (though it is), but because her roar is exposing him to her every need and craving and want. She's growling hunger-hunger-HUNGER and it feels as if she's raking her claws over his very soul.

In a burst of clarity, he gathers whatever strength he has left and projects his agony in a forceful whirlwind of fire and pain. It's a directionless assault and he knows he's hit innocent birds and possibly a few squirrels, but the mountain lion is backing away and that's what matters. She leaves, finally, and he's astonished he hasn't fallen to his knees. Owen wraps his arms tightly around his torso in an attempt to keep himself from falling apart. His bike lies abandoned behind him.

From then on he vows to make his shields stronger, thicker, steel instead of paper.

It never occurs to him that instead of blocking everything out, he should learn to control what filters in.


Owen is eighteen when he joins the navy SEALS and he's twenty-seven when he's he leaves.

He trains dogs and honestly it's one of his favorite things ever. He excels at it (how could he not?) and the things he could teach those animals is enough to catch interest and turn heads. The offer to join in a private project for Jurassic World comes when he's twenty-eight from Simon Masrani himself. Owen takes it.

He's told he's going to study the behavioral patterns velociraptors. The want him to raise a pack of velociraptors and train them how to follow commands.

It's an insane idea, he thinks. It's a disaster waiting to happen. It's something he knows he can do.

He spends months, nearly a year, doing research on raptors and proving himself worthy of his degrees. He finds Muldoon's journal and Owen is grateful for the information inside (though the gist of it is just Muldoon saying good God these things are abominations). The expeditions to Isla Sorna are helpful if not a bit overwhelming because the animals are everywhere. The herds are a low buzz in the back of his head and he can feel the t-rexes (multiple!) as angry little pinpricks between his eyes. And the raptors. He doesn't dare approach the raptors; their minds are too much like shards of glass or serrated, bloody knives.

Then there's the papers. Grant's work is factual but angry, Sattler is ice-cold professionalism, and Malcolm's papers are half fact, half sarcastic criticism. Even with all the work Owen's doing and with each visit to Isla Sorna, he promises not to get attached, not to forge a connection.

When Blue is born that promise is blown to pieces.


Owen is awake and the sound of thunder and distressed raptors envelope him. The ache in his head is still there, but he suppresses it, spreading a circle of comfort and safety to calm his girls down. Charlie and Delta settle, but Echo buries herself in his side (wow, she's gotten big) and Blue forces herself onto his lap. She refuses to move.

He takes a moment to relax, to let his girls bask in feeling of warmth and safety and he falls into a slight trance. The crackling of his radio on his bedside table startles him, but he recovers quickly and reaches for it.

"... Grady? Is Mr. Owen Grady there?" croaks a hesitant voice. Owen doesn't recognize the lightly accented voice, but he assumes it must be one of the scientists. Claire-ahem-Ms. Dearing calls him by his last name and those he works with call him Owen or his rank.

"Yeah, this is Owen," he rumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"We, uh, Dr. Wu needs you at the lab. Now." The man on the other side of line starts out weakly, but by his last word, his tone brooks no argument.

"Yeah, sure I'll be there," Owen assures, reading the urgency in the man's voice. There is a bit more crackling from the radio and then silence.

He takes just one more breath, bracing himself against the wall and twisting his neck until he hears a satisfying crack. He begins to slip off the bed, but is stopped by the insistent tugs at his tank top and finds himself trapped beneath a pile of heavy, (over)protective raptors. Blue snaps at him, clearly saying he shouldn't-can't-will NOT leave. Owen sighs and runs a soothing hand along her neck, doing the same for the others when they butt their heads against his chest.

"I don't know if they'll be too happy that I brought you with me, but since you insist I not leave your sight, if you stay on your best behavior you can come. If you can't be perfect ladies, I'm going to have to take you back to the truck and god knows Barry'll be thrilled to know I left you guys in there."

They consider for a moment, then Blue huffs her agreement. Owen gives them a small smile and gathers what clothes he can find scattered on the floor. He winces at a particularly sharp stab of pain in his head, but waves away Blue's concern.

It's raining harder now and his girls don't appreciate the flashes of lighting nor the booms of thunder. The ride to the labs is a little more treacherous and Owen can hardly see through the sheets of rain that pound obnoxiously at his windshield. The road seems bumpier now and it puts his girls on edge. He opens up the link, letting the pack settle into its familiarity and humming in concentration to ignore the increasingly frantic throbbing of his head.

By the time he arrives at the labs, the rain has mercifully receded into a light shower and his girls are much calmer. He has time to usher the pack out of the truck before there's a gaggle of people in white pushing him into the building. The raptors rush after him and it's only a sharp whistle from Owen that keeps the nearest scientist from losing a leg.

Regardless, they loosen their formation around him and allow the raptors to catch up, though they do urge him to hurry. The elevator ride to the main floor is quite possibly the most awkward thing ever (possibly more awkward than his one date with Claire Dearing where he had shown up in board shorts because Echo thought it would be funny to chew up his one pair of good jeans and Claire had brought a freaking itinerary). Scratch that, he doesn't think there's anything more awkward than that date. That was a complete disaster. The elevator ride is a close second, though.

The group of scientists are all huddled up in one corner, vibrating with nervous energy while Owen and his squad take up the other side, all tapping impatiently, the raptors their sickle claws on the floor and Owen the knife at his hip. Otherwise, there is silence until the elevator dings and the doors swish open. The scientists scurry out, dragging him along with them.

Owen doesn't exactly know what to expect when he enters the private lab, but two pairs of crimson eyes landing on him in the sudden quiet isn't it.

He vaguely notes that the ache in his head has receded (that it was these two creatures causing it). They remind him of raptors, from the way that they hold themselves to the intelligent glint in their ruby eyes, but raptors they are not. Not fully at least. They're white, one like snow, the other like bone and the backs of their necks are freckled with little spikes. Their heads are wider, more like Rexy than the sleek shape of his raptors.

Something sick twists in his stomach, and it has nothing to do with the blood slicked on their teeth.

Owen approaches them slowly, signaling for his girls to stay back. Blue barks at him, willing him to stay away from the strange creatures that had somehow wormed their way into the bond. He whistles at her, both a command to stay back and an assurance that he'll be fine.

"What are they?" he whispers, tone low with a hint of danger.

It's Wu who answers. "Indominus Rex. Part tyrannosaurus-"

"Part raptor," Owen finishes. Someone in the back gasps, as if it's supposed to be some big secret.

He pays it no mind. He's within touching distance (potentially biting distance), but he's not afraid. Owen has no reason to. His name bounces around his head, resonating within the newly formed link, a mantra of Owen, Owen, Owen! The two hybrids are scared and confused and more than a little apprehensive. They're newborns, he realizes. Though they're already the size of cats, he can see amniotic fluid drying on their pale scales. He croons gently at them, embracing them in the bond (Blue's disgruntled, but Owen knows she can deal; Echo's just happy to not be the youngest anymore).

The two Indominuses race toward him and while the scientists stiffen, Owen feels all the tension drain from his shoulders. They brush up against him, reach out with their minds and Owen lets them. With a grin on his face, he motions his pack over. They're wary still (Blue especially), but they trust his judgement. The Indominuses seem tiny compared to his older raptors (who aren't even their full size), but he figure if there's rex in them, they'll get far bigger.

"Okay girls, meet the pack. That there is my beta, Blue. She's in charge when I'm gone," he says, sending a wink to his best girl. She snorts, but it's humored. He continues to point out his girls. "That there is Charlie, she's moody sometimes, but she's a big softy; next to her is Delta, believe me she will eat you out of house and home; and that little ray of sunshine is Echo."

They warble at each other in greeting and it warms Owen's heart that they're getting along. He eyes his two new girls, warm under his hands. They need names... An idea strikes him.

"Blue, Charlie, Delta, Echo, I'd like you to meet your new pack mates," he points to the snowy one, "Roma," then to the bone-white one, "and Venizia." He smiles cheerfully, not at all aware of the looks of disbelief that are sent at him. As far as he knows, those are perfectly good names and the Indominuses don't seem to mind.

Henry Wu steps up to him, mindful of snapping jaws.

"What makes you think these assets are for you, Mr. Grady? These are meant to be an attraction, not an assignment," asks Wu, voice and expression carefully blank.

It takes all of Owen's willpower not to tense.

"Do you know of anyone else who would raise them until they're ready? You know raptors are social animals and even rexes travel in families. To raise them from a distance would be to raise a couple of sociopaths," Owen returns evenly.

Wu is quiet for a moment, lips thin, eyes considering.

"If you're doing this then you'll have to be part of the attraction when it's ready. Are you prepared for the dangers of handling a large, dangerous animal in front of a crowd? Let alone two?" Wu challenges with a raised brow.

Owen has to swallow at the thought. It's not handling Roma and Venizia that bothers him, it's the thought of hundreds of people watching his every move. But then his girls are wrapping themselves around him, both physically and mentally as is their habit and the two i-rexes are nuzzling his hands and he knows they will support him the way he supports them. His blue-green eyes shine with determination.

"I'll be able to handle it," he promises. Wu doesn't look surprised.

"I'll call Ms. Dearing then; she needs to know there's been a change of plans with the assets. The Indominuses, er, Roma and Venizia, need to stay a while for the medical check up. You know the drill, however I do suggest you stay with them."

Owen blinks. Distantly, he notes that the groups of scientists that had filled the room had disappeared at some point. It's unimportant though, and he's nodding his head, grinning like a loon, holding his girls close to him.


The rain has stopped, but Owen still encounters a slight problem when they arrive home.

The bed is too small to fit the seven of them. It had been growing smaller as his girls grew bigger and with the new additions there's hardly enough space to fit them all without running the risk of someone falling off.

"Looks like we're gonna have to puppy pile until I can get Barry to get me a bigger bed," he laments. Owen's too tired to come up with a better idea and exhaustion hangs on his bones.

He grabs all the blankets and pillows he can find lying around the house (which is surprisingly a lot) and piles them on the floor next to his bed. He strips himself of excess clothing and crawls onto the thick pile of blankets. His girls crowd around him, finding a new formation now that they have two additions. Charlie and Delta cuddle on his left side, Roma and Venizia take his right. Echo gives a sleepy chirp before plopping heavily on his stomach (as always careful of her claws) and Blue's breathing is in sync with his as she curls up by his head.

Owen falls asleep covered in dangerous predators, feeling safer in their circle than in the company of any human.


So here we go, chapter two! Just remember, reviews are like the most encouraging thing ever I'm totally open for ideas. You could even pm me or ask me things on my tumblr (url Alcors-floating-hat)

Good day, you beautiful people.