Chapter Twenty- four

"Marianne,"

Jolted awake by a warm hand on her shoulder, Marianne gripped both sides of the office chair Owen had dragged down from her desk to the containment unit after the vet and transport team's had left. She'd promised to sit with Delta for awhile when Owen went to get something to eat, but she hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep, cell phone and clipboard still at hand.

Even more surprising, Barry was the one who had jostled her awake. She blinked, reached up to rub her eyes, and sat up straight in the chair. Her eyes darted over to the exam table, where Delta was laying motionless, still attached to monitors. She sighed, closed her eyes and exhaled, and turned to Barry.

"Yeah, Barry." She reached up and rubbed her throat, which was sore, causing her voice to sound more the like croaking of a toad than anything else. She stretched her neck and Barry crossed his arms over his chest, eyes focusing on Delta.

"I got done what you asked," He said quietly. He looked solemn and sad, and she felt sorry for him. He too had a connection with the girls that she envied, and Marianne was sure he'd been worried sick the entire night about poor Delta. She stood and reached out to touch his hand, but he continued. "Doc said she'd be okay."

Marianne nodded and smiled softly, her eyes finding Delta in the middle of the room again. "She's gunna be just fine, Barry."

He smiled at her, "Yeah, I know. I just worry about her and her sisters, ya know?" He then reached into his back pocket and handed her a piece of paper, then slapped a finger on it – it was a room number. "Owen wants you to meet him at the resort – that's the room number I guess. He called about an hour ago," she wrinkled her brow at him, "He told me not to wake you."

She nodded in affirmation, "Okay. I'll go then – you okay here?" She clapped a hand on his shoulder. He nodded.

"Yep. Put that box back in the truck, figured you'd be still driving it."

She grinned, "Thanks. I'll be back a bit later. Call if she wakes up and we're not here." He waved her off, nodding, and she found her way to the truck. It was daylight now, and she checked the clock on her phone's display, finding it was well after nine in the morning. She'd slept that long? Shaking awake her muscles and feeling them pull sore, her stomach rumbled and reminded her she hadn't eaten anything and that it was coming back to haunt her.

Marianne found herself at the resort much later, parking her car in the employee lot. She checked with the front desk and they waved her in, and she entered the elevator, pressing the button for the seventh floor. One the car levelled off, she padded down the hallway and located the room number that Barry had given her and knocked on it lightly.

There was no answer, so she knocked again, this time opening the door slightly and peeking her head inside. She found the main room empty – and that Sophie had a upper class suite – and stepped inside cautiously, as if she'd just discovered a forbidden garden. "Hello?"

Not moments after she'd called out the greeting, Sophie came around the corner in a flash of green and yellow – complete in a sundress and sandals, her hair pulled into a half ponytail and secured by a white bow. She came at Marianne wildly, and Marianne welcomed her with an open arm, the girl latching onto her leg protectively and grinning up at her. "I'm so glad you're here!" She exclaimed, her smile genuine and wide, "We get to spend the day together!"

Marianne gave her a soft smile, "Yes, I know." She replied, trying to mask a yawn. She failed. "I'm very excited too –"

"Soph," came the gruff reply from around the corner. Sophie took Marianne's hand and led her around the corner, where Marianne was surprised to find a sunken-in living area and wet-bat, complete with a flat-screen TV and French doors leading into a master bathroom suite. Owen, freshly shaven and in his work clothes, poured a glass of orange juice and replaced the jug in the mini fridge. Sophie released her hand and bounded towards him. His eyes levelled on Marianne and he gave her a sultry, yet oddly gratifying, stare. "Marianne needs to get some rest before she does anything. We had a bit of a rough night."

Her brow wrinkled, Owen bending to pick her up. He draped the other arm along the counter top, and Marianne gave him a look. He still hadn't told Sophie he worked with raptors yet, and Marianne knew the statement would shake the question alive. She swallowed and Owen gestured with a hand to the fridge. She shook her head no.

Surprisingly, Sophie said nothing regarding his job, except, "What happened?"

"One of the animals got pretty sick," Owen wrinkled his nose, "But she's better now – Marianne and I had to take care of her last night, so we didn't get much sleep."

Sophie looked to Marianne, "You do look kinda tired."

Marianne gave a weak laugh and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Thanks," she snorted lightly, "I am very tired. Did you get any sleep?" She asked the question to Owen, who set Sophie down and they both watched her run away to the couch. Sure enough, she clicked on the television, and Marianne stepped closer to him.

He shrugged, "Some. About three hours," he waved it off, "But I'm okay." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "I've gotta go get some stuff done with the girls and clean up – Briggs did a perimeter check and said there's crap everywhere. And I want to keep close tabs on Delta until she wakes up."

Marianne nodded, "Sounds good. Will you call me if she wakes up?"

He gave her a cocky half smile, "No, I'll let you wonder." At this she slugged him in the arm and they both watched Sophie for a moment, content that she was enjoying her program. He waved Marianne into the bedroom half of the suite. Moving out of Sophie's line of sight, he took her hands and interlaced their fingers. "She's got a lesson with a few of the palaeontologists at the practice dig sites today at noon, so you should be able to sleep while she's gone." He looked back to the room.

"Wonderful," she purred.

"I was thinking we could talk to her tonight," he turned back to her, "about…stuff."

Marianne smiled at him, suppressing a giggle. "Stuff, huh?" She stroked his knuckles with her thumb and gave him a playful half smile, "But yeah, that's fine. I'm going to see if I can get a hold of Alan today – I had Barry make copies and get them over to him, in case something happens."

He sighed, "That could get me fired, you know."

She nodded, "I know," she looked away, "But something tells me Vic is going to get involved and this biopsy is going to prove right. If they do take after birds more than reptiles than they'll be easier to train – and genetically modify,"

"Not necessarily,"

She gave him a blank stare, "You know Wu will come up with whatever InGen wants him to with the right price tag," she interjected, "So having a copy of the research isn't a bad thing, if Wu and Vic do get involved."

"You're sneaky."

She chuckled, "One of my many fine qualities."

He chuckled back at her, his eyes dancing as they scanned her own. "How did I tell myself you weren't my type all these weeks?"

She shrugged and released his hands, "Denial is a fickle thing." Jerking her thumb towards the door, she pointed at it, "Get going. Keep me posted if something happens. What time are you thinking we tell Sophie?"

"Over supper," he sauntered towards the door, "Around five-thirty." Marianne nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, him digging in his pocket for the hotel key. He had two, and tossed one at her. She caught it. "You can hang out here until tonight, and then we'll get you settled at my place." He opened the door, put a hand on the handle, and turned to point a finger at her, "Get some sleep."

She saluted playfully, her tone cracking in a giggle. "Yes, sir." He rolled his eyes at her, winked, and hustled out the door, closing it lightly behind him. Marianne turned to face the adjoining room, where Sophie was watching TV, and she scratched her head. Wrinkling her nose, she decided on a shower before eating anything.

. . .

Henry twisted the key in the lock of his office door, Claire tapping her foot hurriedly behind him. Once finished, he stuffed the keys into his pocket and they began down the hallway briskly, to where Claire had a car waiting to take them to the raptor paddock on the main level. He could tell she was furious, but she did well to contain it behind her pleasing and disgustingly loyal facade.

He asked, "When did she perforate her stomach?"

Claire hesitated, "I'm not sure – but I heard something about a bone biopsy, and Randal seemed pretty interested in it. Alan Grant came up in conversation – so I'm not sure what's going on, Henry." They took the elevator and he reached for her wrist before she boarded. Freezing, he locked eyes with her.

"Don't let Alan Grant get involved," he chastised her dangerously, his voice an eerie calm, "These animals are my responsibility, Claire, and I will not have outside research getting involved. There's far too much speculation in palaeontology and genetics that could end this entire project. It's far too risky. Do you understand?"

Looking somewhat concerned and fearful as his grip tightened around her wrist, Claire nodded. Her voice cracked, "I understand," she squeaked. He released her a bit roughly and hurried onto the elevator. Straightening his tie, Claire boarded and hit the ground floor button, and the doors slid closed.

He cleared his throat, "And make sure Randal gets off this island, Miss Dearing. She's not good for what we have going on here, and I won't have heresay being spread around." Claire said nothing, only nodded, and when the car came to a stop he turned to her and pointed at her, "Masrani will hear about this, I assure you."

. . .

Alan Grant slid his aviator sunglasses on top of his head, having removed his hat due to the gusty winds of the San Francisco morning. After an all-night flight from Montana to California, he was beyond exhausted and in need of coffee and a shower, but he hadn't cared as he slammed the door of the rented Dodge and approached the familiar figure across the parking lot, duffle at hand.

Ian Malcolm, dressed casually in jeans and a black Under Armour polo, was talking with a taller, younger man beside the Cesna plane. Ian had called Alan to confirm that he did know someone who could fly them to Isla Nublar, as a favour to him. Alan froze when he took in the figure of the man in khaki pants, a tan safari vest and a grey v-neck t-shirt. Complete with the same short, curly haircut, Nick Van Owen hadn't changed a bit since he'd last seen him – except he'd gotten a bit stalker, and he now wore facial hair to accent his age.

Nick caught sight of him an abruptly ended the conversation with Malcolm, nodding his way. Ian turned and instantly smiled, approaching Alan with arm's outstretched. He hadn't changed much either – except now he dyed his hair black and had a bit of wrinkles around his eyes, but he still possessed the same gait as the Malcolm from twenty years ago. Alan set down his duffle and quickly embraced Malcolm.

"Good to see you, Grant." Ian pulled away, smiling that half smile and chewing on gum just as he always did. His voice grated over Alan's nerves – he hadn't liked Malcolm much before Jurassic Park. But, they had managed to stay in contact over the years, however limited contact it had been.

"Same to you, Ian." His eyes levelled on Nick, and he narrowed his gaze as Nick shifted uncomfortably on his feet, head dropped to stare at his feet. Alan's feelings towards Nick hadn't changed since he'd ended his engagement with Marianne years ago in favour of another woman, and Alan hated that he was involved. He gave Ian a side-glance. "What's Van Owen doing here?"

"He volunteered to fly us to Isla Nublar," came the quick reply.

Alan quirked a speculative brow, "Volunteered, huh?"

Ian huffed and rolled his eyes, Alan retaking his duffle. The two of them took long strides to the plane, "Well, not exactly," Malcolm confessed, "He took some persuading, but, after I told him your Marianne was involved, he changed his tune."

This didn't surprise Alan, "I'm sure he did." His tone was biting and harsh, and he stalked right by Nick without so much as giving him a second look. Nick sensed his hostility and said nothing, just disappeared to the other side of the plane as Ian opened the door to help Alan load his luggage.

"You two know each other?"

Alan gave him another side glance, "You could say that. Long story."His tone, unforgiving, was darker and unrelenting, and Ian caught on quickly. Realization lit up in his eyes and he nodded, whistling.

"I get it. He and Marianne, were, uh –"

"Yeah," Alan interjected quickly.

Ian awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, "Oh, well then. That changes it up then, doesn't it?"

Alan pulled himself up into the plane as Nick settled himself into the pilot's seat – quiet and careful, as he should've been in Alan's presence. He scowled at Nick, set his hat beside him, and watched Malcolm haul up into the plane. He leaned forward, clapped a hand on Ian's shoulder, and replied.

"You have no idea."