Chapter Thirty-Five

"You're really going to send her away?"

Claire slipped her Ray Ban's down from atop her head to cover her eyes and brushed aside a stray strand of hair from her face as she climbed into the Mercedez. Zach was standing on the other side, arms crossed, looking at her through the open window. She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses and started the car, checking the rearview to see Grey already buckled in and staring out the window, a cold expression on his face.

"Get in the car, Zachary."

His glare deepened, eyes flashing dark hatred at her. Claire was in no mood to put up with her nephew, not today. She had a pile of paperwork to file and a press release to see to, thanks to Grant's arrival to the island and the events that had transpired at the dinner the night before. Her loathing towards Marianne Randal was deep rooted now – the woman was a thorn in her side about to be plucked. Thank God.

"I can't believe you're going to –"

"In the car, Zachary. Now." She flipped on the A/C without looking at him, revving the engine and watching the RMP's rev on the dial. She looked at him and he relented, scrambling into the car ragefully to make a point. He didn't bother with his belt and she didn't pay attention to it.

Claire instead focused on her jettison out from beneath the hotel's canopy.

. . .

Riiing! Riiing!

Owen jerked out of slumber at the piercing, overly-chipper ringtone he recognized as his phone and fumbled along the nightstand for it. He swiped away the texts, deciding to check them later, and draped over the side of the bed, one hand on the floor to stable himself as he answered it.

"Yeah?" He managed, half unconscious and half awake. He pushed himself over the side of the bed to roll onto his back and messaged his forehead. He noticed the side of the bed was cold and – empty. His eyes popped open.

"Owen, it's Barry. Have you talked to Doc Bar-"

Oh no, he told himself. His hand searched the empty bed and he sat straight up, checking all three directions of the room – Marianne wasn't here. Daylight streamed through the windows and he frantically flew out of bed, taking half the covers with him. Half naked he rushed throughout the house.

"Barry, let me call you back,"

"Owen, no! It's Del-"

Owen didn't give the man time to finish when he ended the call, and he panicked. She was gone. This could not have been happening – she'd left without him? He hurried back to the room, grabbed a clean shirt and pants, and frantically dressed. His heart was hammering as if someone was beating it with a rod, and his lungs were burning. Every nerve within his body ran tight as panic began to drown his breathing – she was going to leave without saying goodbye, he just knew it. She was too afraid to see him and lose him and she was going to leave.

He found keys to his bike on the table, lunged for them, and grabbed his vest and knife from the chair on the way out the door. He forewent the steps, jumping them and hitting the dirt before taking off for the bike parked beneath the tree. His phone rang in his hand again and he found it was Sophie at the hotel. He answered quickly.

"Soph, honey; I can't talk right now –"

"She's leaving, Uncle Owen! I saw her car, she's at the Innovation place. You can't let her leave! Uncle Owe-"

She was the epitome of what his head was screaming, and she'd given him the information he'd wanted. The Innovation Center building was the only place on the island with a helipad, and he assumed Claire and Wu wouldn't have chartered a specific ferry just for her and Grant's people off the island. He started the bike, phone resting in the gap between his cheek and shoulder.

"Sophie –"

"Don't let her go, Uncle Owen! Please come and get her back!"

He smiled and revved the bike, kicking up the stand. "Don't worry Sophie – I'm gunna try." He dropped the phone into his hand, hung up the call, and slipped the phone into his back pocket. Slinging on the vest, he draped his knife holster over one of the handlebars and gave the bike a bit too much gas, the back tire spinning on the gravel.

He took off, towards the main square. He was getting Marianne back.

Or, he would die trying.

. . .

Marianne sat herself on the front steps of the Innovation center, her few bags scattered around her and watched her Camaro sitting quietly under the shade just across the courtyard before the building. It was oddly calm this morning, a few people walking here and there to breakfast and attractions and shops setting up for yet another day of business. The sun was beginning to rise fully in the sky, and already the stickiness of the morning clung her clothes to her body, but Marianne didn't care.

She'd ignored the further texts from Alan and had let Dr. Bartlett know how thrilled she was at the news – and that she'd be in touch when she arrived back in the mainland. She had only hoped Ellie had gotten the materials she'd faxed, as she hadn't returned any calls of texts of Marianne's yet. The steps were warm beneath her as she focused on her boots more than the approaching footsteps. She only lifted her head to look when there were more than one pair, and she found Alan, Ian, and Nick coming up.

"Morning, sunshine," Ian offered her a hand to help her stand, and she obliged him. He helped pull her to her feet and clapped a hand on her shoulder. When he wrapped her in a hug, she was surprised, but returned it gently and he squeezed her affectionately. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo. I really am." His whisper was genuine and compassionate and she shrugged as she pulled away.

"It was bound to happen," she replied quietly, turning from him to grab her purse and another bag. Alan had already intercepted her other ones, and she looked away from him. "Let's get moving. Claire's already here." Her voice sounded robotic and dead, but she didn't care as she pulled open the heavy Center doors.

They took the stairs and nodded to the receptionist on the second floor, and intercepted the elevators again. Pressing the arrow pointing up, they stepped onto the car when it dang and leveled, the doors parting. All four of them were silent, Marianne feeling Nick's stare in the back of her skull.

They stepped off at the appropriate floor, nodded to security, and found Wu and Claire and Masrani waiting at the roof access door. Wu was on his cell phone, and he quickly ended the call. She heard him mention the name 'Vic', but she didn't catch anything more than that when he gave her a pathetic small smile and opened the roof access door.

Claire said nothing as she followed them out the door, Marianne's eyes latched onto the shining corporate helicopter awaiting liftoff. Masrani nodded to the pilot, who climbed into the cockpit and began preparing for flight. Claire, Wu, and Masrani formed a line in front of them, Claire folding her hands behind her back.

"I truly am sorry about all of this," Wu announced as the turbines began winding up, their screeching heavy on the wind. The blades began to rotate furiously as the chopper roared to life, "I really had anticipated it would work out."

Marianne sighed, frustrated by his platitudes. She really could find nothing to say to these people, and she didn't need to. She shrugged a shoulder and adjusted the strap on her purse. She extended a professional hand, "We both know that it never could, Dr. Wu." He shook it politely and looked away from her, to Grant. Marianne nodded to Masrani, then to Claire, who had a smirk pulled tightly to her lips.

"Miss Randal."

"Miss Dearing,"

She sounded the least bit phased, "Good luck on the mainland. I'll make sure to provide an appropriate reference." Her tone was icy and cold-hearted, and Marianne could see right through her façade of professionalism. She smirked at Claire and chuckled.

"I don't think that's probably the best career move," she shrugged a shoulder at Claire, "but thanks anyway."

Claire's lips turned into a frown and Marianne noticed her forehead crinkle, even behind her hair and oversized sunglasses. Her posture tightened, "Your belongings ship into New York, and from there you can request them to go anywhere. I'll see to the details personally."

Marianne nodded once, "Alrighty then."

She head Masrani and Alan part ways and headed towards the chopper before anything else could be said, Ian and Nick not far behind. The turbines were at full power now, rotating the blades at speeds unheard of, so they kept low as they handed their luggage to the co-pilot, who put saw to them appropriately. Nick boarded, Ian followed, and Alan clapped a hand on her shoulder from behind and squeezed gently. He gave her an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly, "I know you wanted this."

She shrugged a shoulder and looked away from him, "All good things come to an end, right?" She chuckled, "You were right after all. Guess you get to say I told you so."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her tightly, "I don't think I want to."

He gave her a half smile and hoisted himself up into the chopper, Marianne following behind. The co-pilot oversaw their buckles, then gave them a thumbs up and retreated into the cockpit. The wind of the turbines pulled at her hair in every direction, and within moments they lifted off the ground.

Thankfully the noise of the chopper covered the banging of her heart, and the wind her tears.