Chapter Twenty-Nine

Marianne came roaring back with the Jeep shortly after she'd left, stopping abruptly outside of Margaritaville. She horned three times before she saw them leave the building, looking across the way at her Jeep and moving around guests cautiously. The Jeep – a soft top which was removed and doorless, rumbled precisely and perfectly beneath Marianne, who had an arm draped over the wheel. She'd stopped by the truck Owen had brought and collected her things, and had informed the maintenance garage to make sure it got a tune-up and back to Owen at the paddock.

The three men piled into the Jeep – Alan beside Marianne, Ian and Nick reigning in the back seat. Marianne pressed the clutch and moved the stick into first, then crept through the crowds, which scrambled away from the Jeep upon sight. Finally passing through the maintenance gait, she flew through the gears until she picked up a good pace. No one said anything until she passed the first curve, and Nick blurted.

"So your, uh, boyfriend." He sounded a little frazzled, and Marianne shot him a narrowed look through the rearview. She slowed, downshifted, and gripped the wheel tightly. Alan noticed and shifted a look to her hands, which she ignored. She was beyond irritated they were even here – she had no idea what to do with them, but at the same time she was so overcome with the notion that Alan was even here at all. Nick continued, "He works with raptors then?"

Marianne nodded once in confirmation, "Yep. He's their handler – the park calls him a trainer, but those animals really can't be trained – at least, that's my opinion."

Ian leaned forward to her right, the wind catching their statements and hair and blasting them all with the scent of jungle and recent rain. It humid and heavy outside, and Marianne was sweating in her dress, but she didn't rightly care. Her bun was starting to pull loose. "He did say they followed vocal commands, right?"

Marianne nodded, "Well, yes. Their relationship is built on trust, respect, and the fact Owen's been imprinted on them their entire lives," she raised her voice before picking up speed again, the wind picking up through the Jeep, "But, they haven't learned. That implies they're giving up their previous knowledge for new information, abandoning a previous course of action," she could feel herself getting technical, and Marianne wished Wu could hear this – or Hoskins, even though she'd never formally met the man before. She shook her head and glanced into the rearivew, "But these raptors haven't done that – they respect Owen because he's something to them, and they listen to him only because he's their alpha. They haven't changed their ways at all. And they won't either." She said it with such finality that it made Ian raise his brows and nod, as if content with her point. But, Alan was the next to ask a question.

"Have you had any interaction with them?" He looked at her as if to warn her to be forthcoming. She wasn't sure if she could be forthcoming with such a question – or trust him to handle to truthful answer appropriately.

Marianne shot him a look, one that was briefly laced with panic, but then replaced with uncertainty and blankness. She forced herself to remain composed as her "interview" with Owen came flashing back into her brain like a television show. She didn't want to alarm Alan or make him any more frustrated than he already was, so she decided to answer vaguely. "Some." She sighed, "Delta, one of the sisters, had surgery yesterday and is still pretty weak. I've been able to touch her and interact with her then,"

"Sick?" Nick's brow frumpled.

"Yeah, sick," she nodded, "She perfed her stomach – which is pretty common in the dinosaurs," as if she really knew – she was only repeating what Dr. Bartlett had regaled to her, "She's okay now, but she'll be recovering for a couple more days."

At this, she looked at Alan. His eyes sparkled to life as if they'd been dead for decades. She found the palaeontologist in them as she briefly looked into his eyes, and for once since he'd arrived the terror and hesitancy left his eyes – he was excited. She smiled at him and turned around the next corner, slowing only a gear, "Owen will let you see her, if you'd like."

Alan said nothing, just looked straight ahead. The conversation dropped, and she could feel the change of atmosphere between the group. What once was hostile and unsure became excited and somewhat collected. They arrived at the paddock ten minutes later, and Marianne parked the Jeep beside her Camaro, which was resting beside the stairs leading up to the office. Exiting the vehicle, she looked up into the office and saw Barry pass by the door, on his cell.

The cleanup crews had left for the day, and she checked her watch. Almost three. The area was pretty cleaned up – the storage shed still demolished, but the debris picked up and properly disposed of. Briggs and Silas were preparing for a feeding,. And Marianne waved Alan, Ian, and Nick to follow her. Coming up to the observation cage, she looped her fingers through the holes of the fencing and asked, "Briggs – Owen around?"

He turned to look over his shoulder, "Yeah. Containment unit, checkin' up on Delta." His accent was thick as he frowned and gestured to the three men behind her. He squared his shoulders and stalked towards them heavily as if he were going to hurt all three of them. "Who's these blokes?"

"They're with me, Briggs," she smiled cheekily at him. She waved them forward, and led them to the containment unit. Stepping through, she peered across the room and inside the cage, where she found Owen flipping through Delta's chart, a look of concentration on his face. His rifle was leaning against the wall, and his vest was off. She smiled at Ian and led them forward, then laced her fingers through the gate and leaned into the door. "Hey."

Owen jerked his head and smiled softly at her. "Hi." He set the chart on the stool and approached the door. Scanning his card, it beeped and allowed them to come in. He held it open and Marianne's eyes levelled on the monitor. It was rhythmic and smooth, and she looked over to Owen. Delta's breathing was slow and peaceful.

"She asleep?" Panic struck her as a thousand different scenarios ran through her mind - all of which were not good. Owen's eyes calmed her, however, as they scanned her own, him coming over to her and taking her hand in his own. He stroked her knuckles with his thumb and then moved away from her, his smell of peppermint and jungle soothing whatever frayed nerves were within her. Marianne felt safe with him, and she felt at peace with him nearby - like everything was going to be okay, even when there was a great possibility it may not be.

He nodded, "Doc gave her some meds."

She nodded, crossing over to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she turned to Alan, who was frozen in place and white as a ghost. His eyes were widened and he looked as if he'd been thrust back into 1993 – back into the horror story. Ian too was equally surprised, and Nick was slightly behind them, mouth agape. Marianne and Owen shared a look and she approached Alan, lacing her arm through his. She rubbed his arm slowly. "Alan," she said gently.

"I have dreams every night," he said stoically, "nightmares about these things." He looked down to her and she saw that his eyes were watery, and her entire body parched. She felt her insides quiver and every organ twist and constrict. Her heart stopped briefly as Alan caught her gaze in his own. The excitement she'd saw in the Jeep was evaporated from his soul – all taht was left was the memories replaying over and over, the horror and the fear. She could see each one crashing into him as if he were thrown into a raging ocean. He bristled and looked back to Delta. "And here you are taking care of it as if it's a frickin' turkey."

She smiled, remembering the reference from one of the digs. She'd been a kid when they'd first shot radar into the earth – her Dad's idea. "Things are a lot different," she murmured, her eyes landing on Delta. She watched the monitors, feeling the atmosphere begin to tense again. She wanted nothing more than to escape such a feeling, but she knew she couldn't. "They're –"

"Nothing is different," Alan said calmly, "They're still as dangerous as they were in Hammond's park. And if what you said about InGen is true," he looked over to Owen, "then I don't want you anywhere near any of this." He blinked, and turned on his heel. "Show me what you called me about." His jaw was set and his lips turned down in a frown, and by his tone Marianne knew he was severely mad. She looked back to Delta as he stalked from the cage, Owen quickly swiping his card to open it. Without so much as a look over his shoulder, Alan was gone.

Marianne and Ian shared a look. Nick and Owen watched the palaeontologist leave.

"Well," Ian chimed, "That went surprisingly well."

. . .

They'd locked themselves in the office, all five of them, and Owen had briefed them on everything Hosklns and InGen had been curious about since the opening of the park. Halfway through his lecture he'd just gotten agitated and hostile, spitting venomous remarks and jibes at the man she knew as Vic Hoskins.

Marianne had seated herself on the floor beside the desk, sitting Indian – style with folders and a notepad at hand. Alan and Ian were glancing through the files from the Jeep on her desk, Nick going through a few of his own. Owen was just pacing in front of the door, going on about Hoskins when Marianne looked up at him for a brief moment.

"He comes here and says he wants to learn about the animals, but then he only learns what he wants to know," he scowled now, gesturing at Marianne, "he doesn't understand. He doesn't care. The girls, out in the open, are far more dangerous and unreliable than any kind of frickin' computer system. At least they don't eat them when they get hungry." Marianne wondered if he was aware that Alan, Ian and Nick had stopped listening some time ago, and that he only had captured her attention.

She gave him a lopsided smile, "You finished, or should I prepare for the next wave?" He stopped and gathered his breath, then gave her a smile that would've sent her to her knees if she wasn't already seated. She blushed madly then dropped her gaze to look down at the file, "Did Peter mention when he'd have the biopsy results?"

"Probably not until sometime in the next few days," Owen shrugged, "But he didn't say a specific date."

"He's a doctor. That's supposed to shock me?" She asked sarcastically, then looked up and over her shoulder at Alan, "So that means you're stuck here for a few days, until we get the biopsy."

Alan rolled his eyes. "I guess so. Joy."

Ian tapped a file, then stretched his arms over his head. "Well this has been great and fun, but –" he checked his watch, "it's almost four. I'm starving and ready to get some sleep."

Nick seconded the motion by raising a hand, "I'm good with that."

Marianne nodded and closed up the file she'd been studying and grabbed the notebook. She stood, tossed it into the box with the other files and rubbed her neck roughly to loosen up her nerves. The others began gathering their individual files and putting them aside. Owen looked at her, "Sounds good to me. We gotta go find Sophie anyway, and I got to get ready for our dinner." He approached her, "We can do that later if you'd rather have dinner with these guys," He side-looked Alan, who flopped his hat onto his head.

She shook her head and took his hand, "No, Ian's right. They need to get some food and sleep," she smiled at them, "And Sophie's so excited for tonight – I don't want to disappoint her."

From the corner of her eye, Marianne thought she saw Nick bristle from his place. Ian and Alan shared a look, then nodded. Once satisfied it was agreed upon, they left the office and transferred the stuff from the Jeep to the Camaro. She nodded to the SUV and gestured to Alan. "You two can take that and to the resort. The road leads directly there if you don't turn off," she smiled at them, "Considering you don't get adventurous and drive off the beaten path."

Ian rolled his eyes, "Oh sure, like that's even a possibility."

They said their goodbyes and departed with the Jeep. Marianne fell into the passenger's side of the Camaro, allowing Owen the task of driving. Resting her head against the seat back, he started the sport's car with a roar and gave her a look as he shifted into reverse. He broke the silence, "They seem – protective."

She snorted. "Alan is extremely protective. The other two are harmless."

"Besides the ex," he shot off, then cranked the wheel and took off towards her place, "So what happened between you two?" He pointed at the clock, "You have exactly three minutes."

She giggled at him, then rested her elbow on the window ledge and let her head fall into her hand. She puffed out breath and watched the foliage speed by as Owen relentlessly rocketed the Camaro forward. "We were college sweethearts," she sighed, "Young and stupid. We d date sophomore year and the fall semester of junior year, he asked me to marry him on a whim. I said yes," she covered an eye with her hand lazily, "But he called it off by spring when he met his wife, Teresa, and married her after he graduated." She shook her head, "I was so stupid to think he actually loved me."

"What a jagweed," Owen quipped. She burst into laughter. He shot her a look and cracked a smile, trying to contain his laughter – and failing. "I'm serious!" When she couldn't stop laughing, he slugged her shoulder playfully, one arm draped over the wheel. "So what'd you see in him?" She sobered up and shrugged. He gave her a raise of an eyebrow. "I'm serious."

She shook her head and waved him off, puffing out a dramatic breath. "I guess I was just desperate. He didn't care what I looked like and told me he loved me," she looked away, "I was smitten and excited that someone had finally found me desirable. Blinded I guess." She closed her eyes and sighed, "Blinded and stupid."

There was silence between them as he slowed the car and her bungalow came into view. Untouched and serene with the backdrop of the jungle, it was inviting but also extremely daunting. She'd wondered if Claire had sent someone already to got through it and get rid of all of her stuff, but pushed the idea aside and dismissed it – Claire was too busy dealing with her messes and her job to do that so soon. The car stopped, and she reached for the handle, looking over at him. "Give me a few minutes –"

He silenced her when he reached up to cup her cheek with his hand, letting his rough and calloused thumb smooth over her cheek gently. He locked eyes with her, and she let her head fall onto the seat rest, staring at him. She reached up and wrapped her hand around his wrist carefully, and he tipped his head slightly to the side like a bewildered puppy. "I'd say he was a pretty lucky guy," he breathed, his warm breath crossing the expanse between them to swirl around her face. She realized the peppermint smell he radiated was gum, and she wanted to beg him to never stop chewing it.

She smiled softly at him, "Well, you're the lucky guy now, aren't you?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, I guess so," he then leaned across the console and touched her chin gently with the other hand, his torso over the gearshift, She fell against the window, pulling him farther across the car, lost in the soft and tender kiss he planted on her lips. Then, he touched their foreheads together and kissed her bottom lip seductively. "You make me crazy, you know that?"

She smiled and giggled, "You were already crazy when I met you so that doesn't count."

He gave a playful crinkled brow to her and tried his best to appear serious, but it didn't work. It came across as silly and interestingly attractive and warmed her belly as he fell back into the driver's seat. "Yeah, well, you make me psycho then." He switched the car to accessory.

"How is that supposed to be a compliment?"

He draped an arm over the back of her seat, then gestured with his other hand towards her bungalow, brows raised as if he'd moved on from the conversation. "I'll wait out here – wear something nice."

She rolled her eyes, "I was wearing something nice," she grabbed at the hem of her cotton sundress, "See?"

He shook his head, waving a hand. "No, no. Something nice." He emphasized the words. Winking at her, he leaned across the console again, popped the latch, and shoved the door open as he fell back into the seat. Waving her out of the car he checked his watch. "Hurry up –I still gotta get ready."

She mimicked his words playfully and exited the car, hurrying inside the bungalow. Closing the door, she hurried towards the bedroom, shedding her dress in the hallway. Once inside, she opened the closet and looked inside – she'd brought one dressy-dress to the island, in case something had happened – and she was, at the time, certain nothing would – and now she was excited as she pulled it out of the closet. Taking if off the hanger, she dropped to her haunches and plucked the heels from the floor of her closet and smiled at herself in the mirror across the room as she let it fall onto the bed.

. . .

Owen was sure of nothing anymore.

The fact that Alan Grant and Ian Malcolm – two renound scientists of their time – were actually on the island had blown him out of the water, even more than when he'd found out Marianne had worked for Grant.

He hadn't realized Grant would be so hardened and opposed to the idea of Jurassic World as he was, and he certainly had been surprised when Grant had challenged him for Marianne. He'd heard Grant to be a bit of a dark horse and a reserved workaholic, but he hadn't imaged he'd be like beast. Ian Malcolm he had head very little of, but the man seemed approachable, though annoying.

And the other guy – Nick Van Owen. Owen hadn't mentioned it to Marianne less he throw her into a tailspin, but he hadn't liked the way Van Owen had been staring at her as if she were the last woman on earth. Marianne may have no noticed, but the man wore no wedding ring and looked as if he hadn't slept in a year – all signs that told Owen that the man was either divorced or separated, but back to bachelorhood nonetheless. His suspicions had been confirmed when he'd noticed Nick check Marianne out when they'd left the Center, and again when she'd led them into the cage. His belly burned at the thought of seeing him look at her as if she were a piece of meat. That man had already had his chance and blown it.

Needless to say, Owen wasn't all too thrilled with the idea of the three guests being on the island. Grant, he could tell, was going to be a huge pain in the butt; always watching him and asking questions and being negative. Malcolm would just be annoying altogether, and Nick he was sure would be punched by the end of their time together. He could already feel his knuckles begin to burn.

He was outside the Camaro now, sprawled across the hood and staring at the sky, which would soon begin to turn colors as the sun was beginning to dip. He watched the clouds move by lazily and realized he hadn't taken a moment to consider his surroundings and slow down enough to admire them. He'd been so caught up with keeping himself busy that he hadn't just stopped – and that was something he was thankful for Marianne for, letting him slow down. Without her he was sure he'd have been fired right now in light of everything. He closed his eyes and sighed, raking his hands through his hair – instead now she was fired, and it was his fault. He should've said something with Wu, and he shouldn't stopped her from socking Claire. The Owen a week ago wouldn't have cared so much – but he did.

Before he could formulate on the thought, he heard the door click into place, and he rolled his head across the hood to look towards the bungalow. He stopped, his eyes widened and his hands instantly dropped from his hair. He automatically sat up and slipped off the hood of the car, not aware the earth was so abruptly under his feet, and he staggered. His entire body went aflame and his lips burned, his heart palpitating inside his chest as his gaze was cemented on her. He was sure he was coming across as a deprived caveman, but essentially he was – and he didn't care.

She smiled at him from her place at the door, her cheeks red with a blush. She was giggling at his show, and he stuck his hands into his pockets as his eyes swam over her, taking in every inch. His hands began to burn for her skin, to connect them roam every part of her – hence the reason he'd stuck them in his pockets. He stepped towards her carefully, as if she were a dream and he'd wake up any minute. He finally came to her and reached up to rub his mustache and released a breath.

"Wow," he puffed, "You look – just, wow." She smiled up at him, her eyes scanning his emotionally. She was still wearing contacts, and he wasn't sure what he was smelling, but it was the greatest smell he'd ever whiffed in his entire life. "You look amazing, Marianne." She grinned at him and he scanned over her again, not sure how he was feeling about that dress.

"I'm glad you like it," she giggled. Instinctively, he untucked his hands from his pockets and stepped to close whatever space was between them, reaching to wrap his arms around her waist – but she side-stepped him and moved towards the car. He spun in his heel, taking in her form from the back – and was pleasantly surprised to find it was a backless dress.

If you could call the short black thing a stress – it floated mid-thigh around her legs, with tank-top style sleeves and a gold buttons at the bust, which she'd left undone and he couldn't get enough of – but, surprisingly, he was more attracted to the fact that her thights actually touched, and were thick and well muscled and smooth, tanned and perfect. It sent an oddly satisfying swirl through his stomach.

The dress was a light fabric, he was guessing rayon, and she'd matched it perfectly with black heels. Behind, it dipped elegantly down her back, and he was surprised she'd piled all of her hair into a mountain of lazily styled curls on her head, fallen tendrils tickling her shoulders and cheeks. He couldn't remember if she was wearing makeup or not, but didn't rightly care when she opened the door of the Camaro and smiled at him.

"Are you coming or not?"

He nodded as if he were a kid in trouble, "Yeah, I'm coming." He hustled to the driver's side, slipped inside, and flicked the car to life with a turnoff a keys. Revving the engine, she clicked her seatbelt delicately, and the corner of his eye caught her dress, which was dangerously high. As if reading his thought, she pulled at the hem, but the dress wouldn't move. Shrugging her shoulders as if she was unaware it was driving him mad, she looked out the window as he dared to give the car gas and hurry towards his own place. Every instinct he'd suppressed and every desire a man had flamed alive within him after so long and he released a quiet breath, both hands on the wheel. When had he started sweating? His belly rolled a warmth through his body and his drive kicked into overtime – god, it had been too long. He hadn't expected to feel this way – and certainly not with Marianne.

Which brought him back to this original thought - he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

They arrived at his place a few moments later, and they exited the car. He took the steps two at a time, unsure if it was smart considering the condition of his legs. Holding the door for her, she brushed past him, and he realized her smell was that of rose oil, and it sent a wave of emotion through his body. The screen door slapped closed and she took in the familiar scenery of his place, then moved to the living room. She stood a the bookcase and began scanning the titles. When he didn't move, eyes still cemented on her, she shot him a sideways glance and smiled at him.

"You can stop staring."

He swallowed. "Nope," he shook his head, "I don't think I can."

She smiled, "Well, I'll be here when you get out," she winked, "So you should go and get changed. Sophie's gunna be waiting at the resort." When he still didn't move she giggled and approached him, "I'm not gunna disappear when you're gone."

His eyes found hers and were locked there, a smile spreading onto her lips.

"And, you might as well know – if you don't change, I'm not touching you the rest of the evening. You're dirty and this dress was expensive." She crossed her arms, and that was it – like a whupped puppy, he skittered across the floor and practically bolted for his bedroom. Just the idea of her not laying her hands on him almost sent him into insanity.

Shedding his clothes on the floor, he burst into the bathroom and quickly showered himself off, then bolted for his closet, scrambling over the bed and throwing himself off of it. Landing before the doors, he pulled them open and looked for his best outfit – she was wearing something classy and sexy, and he didn't own a suit, so he went for the next best thing: black slacks and a forest green button down.

He dressed, grabbing the only pair of dress shoes he owned from under the bed, and buttoned his shirt. Considering the state of her dress, he left an extra button undone – the third from the collar, and messed the overly staunched collar anyway. Scambling, he managed cologne and socks, then ran a quick comb through his hair, smoothing it before he too combed down his mustache. He fumbled with the shoes, grabbed his wallet and ID, and hustled from the door, shaking off his nerves and walking into the room cool and collected.

He found Marianne sitting in the chair in the living room, flipping a page to his favourite Indiana Jones instalment. A smile played dangerously on her lips, which he noted were glossed with a light, powder pink that he found massively attractive. She batted mascaraed lashes and he stepped into the living room, hand snaking into his pockets and placing his wallet there. She looked up at him, instantly gave him a once over, and closed the book.

"I didn't think you read Indiana Jones," she hinted playfully. Walking over to the bookcase, she replaced it where she'd found it and turned to him, crossing her arms at her chest. "And I certainly didn't think you'd clean up that good." The words rolled off her tongue seductively and rocked his core. It was taking all of his self control not to walk over there and tear the dress off her body and take her right now – which was odd.

"I told you I was a mysterious guy," he quipped.

She rolled her eyes, "I guess you did." She, she looked back at him and narrowed her eyes, stepping one foot over the other carefully, snaking towards him as if she were a Bond girl from a James Bond movie. In that dress, he briefly wondered if she was. "I suppose now I can touch you, since you look so nice and clean." She stopped right before him, snaking her arms around his middle and pulling him to close any space that could've been between them. Her eyes scanned his dangerously.

"You can stop staring," he mimicked quietly, a smile playing on his lips. One appeared on hers too, and her eyes flashed like sapphires that were blazing. He wasn't sure if they were even eyes at all, the way they mesmerized them. Owen could've looked into them a thousand times and found something different and new and intriguing. "I won't disappear." His chuckle was throatier than he knew was possible, and he slipped his hands into perfect place around her waist.

She wrinkled her nose, "Shut up." She slapped a peck playfully.

He snorted, and he reached up to play with a curl around her face. He noticed she wore no makeup besides the lip gloss and mascara – no cover up or foundations, no primers or filters. Just her skin on his, and that was delightful. He left his hand move to her cheek, and then let his index finger trace her jawline before he tipped her chin up. "God, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She said nothing, just stared at him for a long time before her mouth parted, "No one has told me I was beautiful before," she whispered.

This confused him, "Nick?" He questioned, as if his brain was incapable of forming sentences. She shook her head gently, and he was sure she was casting some type of goddess-like spell on him, because he couldn't think clearly. How had some other man with any type of sexual drive not tell this woman she was beautiful? He could think of nothing more beautiful than her. Not one thing came to mind.

"No." She finally answered, though he'd known the answer before she even vocalized it. The thought ruptured his stomach out of his body and put his heart into a vice – this woman had never been told she was beautiful, and he knew that was crucial in any woman's emotions. The thought possessed him like a wild animal had sank its teeth into his chest and torn out of his heart. His lungs burned. He couldn't think right. "But thank you, though." She murmured, reaching up on tip-toes and planting a tender and innocent kiss on his lips. "That means a lot." A gracious smile was on her lips when she pulled away.

Then, she moved out of his embrace and headed towards the door, and stepped through it, slapping the screen door out of her way. His eyes followed her and he let out an exasperated breath, as if he'd been holding it for a thousand years.

Locking up and flicking out the lights, he followed her outside and found she'd already started the Camaro.