Two Weeks Later

"Marianne! Marianne, it's DJ– Dr. Grant is looking for you at the dig site!"

Marianne rolled over on the RV's bed and fumbled along the floor for her purse, where her cell phone was set to vibrate within its folds. Through half-lidded eyes, she managed to find the device and check the time in the corner, before registering a look outside the small window over her shoulder. Daylight pierced through the light curtains and stained her arm in a warm and bright ray.

"Yeah, DJ– I'll be out. Give me fifteen minutes."

With that, the research assistant flitted off and was gone about her other duties, leaving Marianne to the silence of the RV. All wasn't entirely quiet, however, because she could still hear the mulling about outside the thin walls. People were talking, trucks were driving by, and other machinery moved about as the Montana excavation went underway.

She moaned, let the phone slip from her hands back into her purse, and swung her legs over the side of the bed to sit upright. It had been two weeks since her arrival back from Jurassic World, and she still hadn't adjusted to the time difference – or, the climate change. Marianne got up, willed herself to eat breakfast, and dressed quickly.

There had been a lot of things she hadn't adjusted to since her arrival back to the States with Alan, Nick, and Ian, actually. Their journey back had been quiet and cold-shouldered, and still hadn't changed drastically much since she'd fallen back into her everyday routine at the site. Of course she'd gotten her old job back, and while she was grateful for something to do, she couldn't help but miss island life with Owen Grady and the raptors.

It was different, working with bones instead of living creatures. She hadn't really been aware of the differences on the island, but Marianne Randal was aware of them now. The days blurred together as she scribbled notes and typed reports on the dead remains of dinosaurs, rather than tending to the needs and paperwork of the living ones. Desert life was also different too – she missed the luscious jungle and the smell of the ocean in comparison to the dry heat and grainy sands. Her bungalow had been a paradise compared to the corner of the RV she lived in with the other three research assistant's.

What she missed most of all though, was Owen. She hadn't corresponded with his attempts at contact since her arrival. She wasn't sure she could bring herself to hear his voice, so far away on the phone; read his emails half a world away. He was there, living with Echo, Charlie, Delta and Blue, and she was here, working with remains. They were two entirely different worlds away from one another, despite his attempts at talking to her. Marianne ignored his calls, deleted his messages, or archived his emails. Every time she saw his name it almost drove her to tears. She wasn't ready to talk to him, or anyone else, about Jurassic World.

Instead, she drowned herself in work. When she wasn't in the sand with Alan, she was working on the information she'd faxed Ellie. It really made no sense to her, all the InGen reports and statistics and research, but what did make sense was the man named Hoskins, and his proposal for field tests and military involvement. As she'd read the files and intel deep into the nights, she'd found that he'd proposed that with the bond established between raptors and human beings at the time of their birth, they responded to commands and shared a loyal connection with their imprinted "alpha". The proposal aspect was that because of this development, raptors could replace human beings in the field of combat and recon, and save thousands of lives a year.

Marianne had considered this intel carefully, and had pieced it together in her brain over the two weeks she'd been away. Of course she knew that Owen was aware of Hoskins, as he came periodically to check in on the assets and weigh the information that Owen gave him. What she wasn't sure Owen knew was how this proposition would affect not only the park, but also research. She'd all but abandoned the hope of hearing about Delta's biopsy results, and it didn't really matter either way. Alan's study and theorizing would mean next to nothing if the military got involved.

But, none of it was her problem anymore, and she'd had to remind herself of that as she scoured information. Marianne had debated passing the information on to Owen, but she knew the minute she called him, their conversation would be less about dinosaurs and more about them as a couple. It wouldn't matter anyway, because Wu and Masrani wouldn't hear him regardless of the situation.

She stepped out of the RV in shorts, hiking boots, a white-tank top, and a long sleeved camping shirt with a notebook and pen at hand. Kicking the door closed behind her, she slipped her sunglasses down in front of her eyes and scanned the mulling site for Alan Grant – he wasn't visible, so she assumed he was at one of the southern digs. Hopping on an ATV, she drove her way out to the sites, and found Alan documenting something with another assistant.

She climbed the craggled, desert floor towards them, and once the other assistant registered her presence, Alan set them away with a wave of his hand and an exchange of words that Marianne didn't hear. Once in front of him, he tipped back the brim of his hate and glanced up at her behind sunglasses, registering her with a smirk.

"Good morning," he jibed her with a smarmy greeting, before waving her down to join him in the dirt. "I was wondering if you were going to wake up or sleep the whole day away."

She rolled her eyes behind her shades, and squatted across the skeleton from him. It was only a quarter unearthed, and hardly distinguishable given its present state. He had it marked a number of places with tags, and tools were skittered around the paleontologist in all directions. He was sweating, and his arms were slightly sunburned. She flipped to a new page in her notebook, clicked her pen, and began documentation.

She mumbled, "Still haven't adjusted to the time difference," to which he raised his head to stare at her. Marianne looked across from him and cocked a brow. "What?" She demanded.

He shook his head. "You sure it's not all the reading you've been doing late at night that's keeping you in bed?" He went back to working, brushing off dust around an ankle bone with his hand.

She gaped at him, surprised that he knew she'd been up reading the information from Ellie. Then it pieced together in her brain as if it were a child's puzzle game suddenly solved. "Ellie told you about the information I sent to her."

He whipped his head up to frown at her. "What?" She cursed herself, sighed, and shook her head as she scrawled another note. Apparently he hadn't known that tidbit of information she'd just offered, and she mentally kicked herself for spouting off so flippantly. She paused her writing and hung her head, looking at her dusty boots. Sweat began to form on her brow in the hot sun.

She waved a hand through the air. "It's nothing. Forget it," she sighed, hoping to dismiss the topic altogether.

Suddenly, Alan reached across the skeleton and grabbed her wrist harshly, gripping tightly. The look on his face was less than enthused, and she jerked her arm out of his grasp. He released, but his frown didn't relent. "What information did you give Ellie?"

She sighed, dropped the notebook and pen, and got up. "I'm not discussing this with you," she intoned sharply, turning on her heel to begin making her way back down the trail towards the ATV she'd abandoned. Alan followed her, close behind. She glanced over her shoulder, "I'll have DJ come finish up with you –"

In an instant, he grabbed her arm and whipped her around to face him. Squealing, she stumbled over a rock and he caught her wrist, jerking her to a stop before she could fall. He whipped off his sunglasses to glare at her, and she did the same, gaping at him in disbelief. He stepped towards her, pointing a finger in her face. "Marianne. You'd better tell me what's going on, or I'll –"

"Do what?" She demanded, cocking a brow. "What exactly can you do to me, Alan?"

He narrowed his stare at her and hissed, "Don't test me, Marianne." He then straightened, slipped his sunglasses on, and tacked on, "Now, tell me what was so important that you sent Jurassic World documents to Ellie Sattler while you were employed." He sighed, "Not that I really want to get involved, but something tells me I should."

She shook her head. "I'm not telling you anything," she said warningly, "it's classified information, and the last thing I need is for it to go public."

He pierced her with a growl. "All the more reason why I should know about it." He waved towards the ATV and she turned, "Let's see what you've got, kiddo."

Owen glanced between the two documents on his desk, and then checked the computer screen. His brow dropped into a furrow as he glanced through file names and data information. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he looked back at the papers again, and threw his hands into the air. The pen he'd been holding pitched across the office to roll across the floor against the wall. Rolling away from the computer, he swiveled in his chair and ran his hands through his hair.

Delta was due back at the paddock today from her recovery, and he was less than prepared. Every since Marianne had took off two weeks previous, his office had been in disarray as he and Barry had scrambled to intercept the duties she'd left behind. Thankfully, Marianne had been smart enough to organize everything, so the hard copies of the animal's files were relatively easy to find in the file cabinet and on the shelves. The rest she'd left on the computer, however, might as well have been a Houdini feature, because it seemed like everything had vanished.

He heard his name out the door, which was propped open, and stood up from the desk chair abruptly. Stalking towards the door, he grabbed the frame and whipped himself through the threshold. The steel walkway rattled beneath him as he moved towards the edge, seeing Barry waving to get his attention.

"Yeah, Barry," he called down to his friend, "what's up?"

"There's someone here to see you, Owen!" he pointed towards the maintenance shed, and thumbed over his shoulder. "Sounds important, my friend!"

Owen nodded, then waved Barry off as he the man began backpedaling to intercept the truck that came rumbling in from the road. He turned to intercept the driver, who slowed, and directed him with a wave of his hand. Owen moved back into the office, quickly locked the computer, and grabbed Delta's medical file under his arm.

He took the stairs two at a time, and crossed to the maintenance shed, noting the excited energy around the paddock in preparation for Delta's return. It would be her first time reunited with her sisters since her injury, and Owen was more than anxious for their reunification. They'd never been apart for this amount of time, and it would interesting to see their response to the absence.

Owen suddenly wished Marianne was here to see the moment unfold. She'd taken nothing but genuine interest in the animals since she'd arrived to the island, and had bonded with them immediately as she'd interacted with them and documented their behaviors. She asked intelligent questions that he guessed came from time and study with Alan Grant. He missed her curiosity and her passion, as well as her spunk. It had been quiet in her absence for two weeks – oddly and painfully quiet.

He hadn't been the only one to miss her, though. He caught the guys around the paddock talking about her when he wasn't around, and they asked him if he'd heard from her regarding his many attempts at contact. Barry had told him, a handful of times, that she'd been color to a black and white area in their research and work, as well as the island. She'd been a drum in the flute section, more or less, and had said everything anyone had ever wanted to say to Henry Wu and Simon Masrani.

Sophie missed her terribly, too. When he'd told his little niece that he'd been unable to stop Marianne from leaving, the little girl had welled up with tears and had almost cried. Now she seemed depressed, even in their time spent together, and never failed to let him know that she missed Marianne and wanted them to be together. "Like something out of a fairy tale, Uncle Owen," she'd insisted strongly as they parked his motorcycle and enjoyed ice cream together, "she's your princess, and you're her prince. She has to come back." As much as he liked the idea, it twisted his gut into a sour knot every time. But, thankfully, she'd taken a friend in Claire's nephews Zach and Grey, and had spent a lot of time with them on the island as well.

As he crossed to the maintenance shed, he wrinkled his brow at the sight. A woman was standing with a bad slung over her shoulder, sunglasses on, with her blonde hair pulled back into a clip. She looked like a tourist, given her khaki shorts and hiking boots, as well as her grey colored button down top covering a white tank. She had something tucked under her arm, and a slight sunburn on her nose as she looked over the supplies in the shed, stepping out of the way as Briggs and another man unloaded gear for the afternoon feeding.

He ducked into the shed, where the door was half-open, and moved to her. She turned when she heard him enter and smiled at him, a kind type of introductory smile that was standard for introductions. Walking to him, she extended a hand to him and nodded, "You must be Owen Grady," she began, "thank you for seeing me."

"That's me," he shook her hand politely, then gestured to her. "You mind me asking who exactly you are? Because, today's a pretty busy day, and I don't have a lot of time for chit-chat." He tried to make it sound as professionally polite as possible, but the fact remained: he wasn't professional, or in a mood to be polite, either. He scanned her over before crossing her arms over his chest, reasoning she had to be in her forties or early fifties, given the slight grey mixed in with her blonde hair.

She chuckled at him and nodded. "You're blunt," she sighed then extended a folder to him, "but, that's fair. My name is Doctor Ellie Sattler. I'm a paleobotanist. Alan Grant is a colleague of mine." She smiled at him and gestured to the file. "I got these from your office a few weeks ago, from Marianne Randal. I'm an acquaintance of hers, and thought you might like to know what some of this information is."

He looked at the file, then to her. "Marianne doesn't work here anymore," he shook his head, "and I don't think I understand what you're proposing, Dr. Sattler." He didn't like the sound of any of this, but he remembered that Marianne had trusted this woman with whatever information she'd been sniffing around regarding the raptor's and research.

She removed her sunglasses, revealing kind eyes that were intelligent and strong. "I know Marianne is back in the States. Alan Grant told me." She slipped the sunglasses on top of her head and dropped the file back under her arm. "She sent me some information with concerns to Alan's research, for safe-keeping. But I'm not entirely sure she comprehended what it meant, or if your office knows what InGen is skating around here."

He furrowed his brow. "I'm fully aware of InGen's intentions with my animals –"

Sattler pinned him with a sharp look. "Look, kid. There's a lot of information in here that Congress and the government of Costa Rica would pounce on. Information that's dangerous, and could get a lot of people killed." She stepped towards him now. "Trust me, I'd know."

He raised his brows at her. "Really."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'd know, because I was at Jurassic Park with Alan Grant, Grady." Her statement struck him in the gut, and she lifted a brow again to gesture the file at him. "I suggest you take a look at this information." She paused again. "And if you're interested, I have people who can help."

He accepted the file, conceding the argument. "Now isn't a good time," he inserted quickly, "I'm just reacquainting one of the raptors back into the paddock. I need to be present to make sure things go smoothly." She took a step back from him, nodded, and slid her sunglasses back into place over her eyes. Glancing at the file, he looked back up to her. "You came all the way from the States just to give me this?"

"You should get yourself a secretary, Mr. Grady, and keep up with your emails and messages." Smiling wryly at him, she backpedaled away form him slowly and added, "All you need to know is that I'm here to gather samples of some of the extinct plant-life that Henry Wu has genetically modified, on a grant from National Geographic." She shrugged a shoulder, "Alan and Marianne thought this was vital information that you should know. He didn't want it getting into the wrong hands."

His head snapped up. "You talked to Marianne about this?"

She smiled at him and chuckled. "She documented everything, Mr. Grady. It was her idea." Then, turning on her heel, she patted the bag resting against her hip and threw a hand into the air in a goodbye wave, "Look it over, Mr. Grady. If you won't take my word for it, take Marianne's."

Then, she got into the courtesy vehicle, and drove off.

Inspect the paddock, Claire reminded herself as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, just ask him to look at the paddock, and then everything will fall into place from there. Easy.

But, as Claire gently rubbed a the smudge of lipstick on her lower lip with a thumb, she had the idea that this was as much an opportunity as any to get back on Owen's radar. And, that was no easy task, because asking him for anything was a stretch. But asking him to come with her and help her would have him beside himself. It would be just to two of them, alone, and on business. To the casual observer, nothing more than work.

She had anything but business on her mind, however, when she walked out of her office dressed and ready on site observation at paddock eleven. She'd changed out of her professional attire after her pitch with Verizon Wireless to escort Simon Masrani to the new paddock to check on his dinosaur, which she was thankful to have out of the way. She'd heard nothing aside from the new hybrid, and was frankly sick to death of the topic. Having Simon inspect it had been both a relief and a privilege, however. Seeing the pride on his face made her job worth the effort, and the fact that Verizon Wireless on board? That made the deal even sweeter.

Now, dressed in short heels, tight jeans, a green tank-top and a light, short-sleeved cardigan sweater than fell behind her knees, she was ready to approach Grady. She'd been less than enthused about asking him to inspect the new paddock for security breaches, but Masrani had insisted that his expertise with the raptors qualified him for the task, despite their differences involving Marianne Randal.

If it set her boss' mind at ease, it set hers at ease as well. Everything had simmered down from the fiasco with Randal two weeks ago. They hadn't heard from her, which Claire was even more thankful for. The woman had been nothing but a rude inconvenience since she'd gotten here. She was thankful she no longer had to do damage control with the woman and her entourage of negative's – Grant, Malcolm, and whoever else had followed her to Jurassic World. The entire thing had blown over now, and all she had to worry about was getting the woman's things on the next ship out of port.

Life had been good. In the two weeks since the outburst at dinner, Claire had been regarnering her efforts to muster up enough courage to approach Owen Grady again. Her attraction to him hadn't been forgotten in the four weeks Randal had been here, instead it had only grown and festered within her gut like a swelling poison. Sure, she'd envied the brunette from a distance and her time with Grady, but she wouldn't admit that to a living soul. That secret would die in her grave.

Now, as she sauntered towards her Mercedez, she felt nothing but confident. Her two weeks of mustering up courage had paid off – she'd ran the scenarios through her mind and thought of everything she'd say to Owen. The hard part had been approaching him out of the blue, but now she had an actual reason to bring up the topic of their dropped relationship. Two weeks had been plenty of time to get her act together and figure out what she'd do. Now, as she slipped into the Mercedez dressed in jeans and a casual outfit, she checked herself in the rear-view mirror. She might as well have dirt under her nails as well, because she'd never looked this unprofessional or casual in her years at the park.

But, that was Grady's style. She could play on his level for awhile.

After all, if a woman like Marianne Randal had gotten his attention in jeans and boots, how much more could she do in heels and tight designer jeans?

Author's Note: Hi, all. So I realize I haven't updated this since January, and that many of you have all but written this off. In all honesty, I needed to take a break from this piece and play around a little bit with Star Wars. I just hit a major writer's block with this and lost interest for a good number of months, and then when I started my Star Wars pieces, I got an email from a friend asking if I wanted to pick up where we left off with an Expendables piece we had started a year before. That has quickly spiraled into a series, and I've been busy having fun.

But, other than that, I did graduate college, and have been spending my summer looking for a full time job and waiting to launch my career. It's not as easy as it sounds, folks. I've been biding my time, waiting for the right thing to come along, and trying to figure out what to do with adult life. It's been challenging, to say the least, but I did finally sit down and rewatch Jurassic World, and found a bit of muse for this piece again. Hopefully you all like it, and I'm hoping I can stick with it and finish up this adventure.

Now, enjoy my refocused efforts.