Disclaimer: I do not own the Jurassic Park/World franchise or any of it's characters; I only own the characters and plots of my own mind.

19. A Certain Kind of Stupid

"It's a damn circus," Alan announced, eyes scanning the expanse of Main Street. They lingered on the ridiculously named stores and restaurants; when it finally seemed to register that places like the 'Cretaceous Café' were real establishments, his face crumpled in disbelief. He threw a hand out and gestured at the street with a sweeping gesture. "It's a theme park."

Gwyn let her shoulders rise and fall in some semblance of a shrug while her arms crossed over her chest. It wasn't often she really stopped to just look at Main Street in all its busy glory; she was usually shouldering her way to or from the lab, trying to get somewhere for dinner, or too busy talking with someone to really pay attention to the chaos. The wide street was flooded with innumerable people from across the globe. They wove their way around in groups of varying numbers, braving the tropical sun and the oppressive humidity in order to get their full Jurassic World experience. Some walked with frighteningly determined steps, and others, still, slowly slouched their way through the heat at a snail's pace. It was near impossible to picture that sort of crowd at the original park; there would have been crowds, yes, but they wouldn't appear so manic or daunting.

"A theme park with live dinosaurs," Gwyn reminded. Alan huffed an almost incredulous breath through his nose and shook his head.

"And everyone is waltzing around like it's a damn circus," he murmured on an exhale.

"I've found that once people get here, they become focused on the… spectacle of everything, and forget about the danger; it's like… dangling something in front of a magpie. It's easy to do." Gwyn crossed her arms over her chest and sighed a little. "We can't even exempt ourselves from that category, we were like that when we first set foot on the island."

A quiet hum of Alan's warmed the air in recognition of the statement. "It's like this place has a hypnotic quality to it." He shook his head and adjusted the way the strap of his rucksack sat across his shoulder. They were both quiet for a moment as they bathed in the feeling of being on the island together again. It was strange. It was comforting. It was overwhelming. It was surreal. Gwyn felt like she should be smaller and tucked into her father's side. Alan felt like he needed to keep a wary eye on his surroundings and a protective arm around his daughter. It was all of those things and more; but they weren't standing in the most ideal place to discuss those feelings. "So," Alan exhaled, "where is it they set you up to live?"

"I am far north of all resort property in a little bungalow on a lake. So, just follow me." Gwyn gestured forward through the crowd, as though that simple wave of her hand would part the sea of people.

The Grants started the almost arduous task of carefully shouldering and weaving their way through the afternoon crowd. Alan remained quiet for the most part, his sharp eyes taking in every detail they could––the corny shop names, the restaurants, the park employees, the heat exhausted families. There was a tension in his face and shoulders that didn't escape Gwyn's notice; and she suspected that tension would not disappear so long as he was on Isla Nublar. It was a tension she hoped to easy a little, so she took his hand as the wove through the crowd, giving him some familiarity to cling to. It was much appreciated, apparently, as Alan's fingers curled around hers tightly. A couple of times Alan made a comment about some ridiculous shop or restaurant name; and he full-on snorted at the chalk board outside the Starbucks that advertised the park's specialty drinks. She had a fun time informing him that most of them were actually delicious. In turn, he informed her that he would not be trying them.

The drive to the bungalow was more tense than walking down Main Street, Gwyn found. The back roads that wove through the jungle were bumpy and surrounded by towering trees and foliage that sometimes blocked out the sky. Everything about the ride––the jeep, the terrain, the foliage––was more familiar than the park itself. It was the only thing on the island that hadn't seemed to change. Alan stared out at the passing trees and ferns with sharply furrowed brows, a stiff frown, and warily narrowed eyes. It felt like he was waiting for a t-rex to come trampling out of the jungle, roaring at their vehicle with ear-splitting volume. Gwyn couldn't blame him. For the first few months––and at nighttime, still––she had felt the same way. No matter how many times she reminded herself that that there were no dinosaurs loose north of the resort wall––or anywhere else on the island, for that matter––the paranoia still remained.

When they arrived at Gwyn's bungalow, Alan seemed to relax a little. The small home was comfortably close to the lake and not directly bordered by the jungle. It looked homey, now, six months into her living there. Her laundry was strung up on a clothesline, a couple of potted plants sat on the deck's wooden railing, and there were mismatched lawn chairs sat facing the lake. "It isn't much, but it's enough," Gwyn said as she cut the engine and popped the her door open.

"It's nice," Alan complimented in a fatherly tone. The pair exited the jeep and Gwyn started to walk towards her little house. She fiddled with her keys, flipping through them to find the right one––jeep key, key to the office unit at the raptor paddock, house key. "Is that a volcano?" Halfway up the porch steps, Gwyn twisted around to look towards her father. Alan gestured towards the lake with the hand that wasn't shoved into his pocket. She followed the direction of his gaze towards the large, mountainous landmark in the far distance.

"Yeah––Mount Sibo. It's been dormant for something close to five-hundred years, I think. The control room monitors it for possible seismic activity the same way it monitors the weather," Gwyn informed. Alan snorted a little and continued to follow his daughter; he fixed her with a wry look.

"At least they're monitoring the danger of something on this damn island…"

Gwyn unlocked her door and pushed down on the lever handle, which allowed her to open it. She stepped inside and held the screen door open behind her, glancing back at Alan. He followed her, reaching out to prop the door open, and nodded his thanks.

"So, this is it," Gwyn exhaled, tossing her keys onto the recently organized coffee table. Her hands migrated to her hips as she took in her own living space. She'd cleaned up a little that morning, just straightening things up; Alan was used to her organized chaos, but organized chaos sometimes just looked messy in such a small space. "Kitchen is through there, bedroom is just beyond that, and the bathroom is accessed through the bedroom."

"Bit different than your place in Bozeman," Alan commented with a smirk. Gwyn laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Just a bit," she deadpanned. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled at him lovingly. "Make yourself at home; I'll grab you something to drink."

Gwyn toed off her shoes as she walked to the kitchen, kicking them aside as she went. Behind her, Alan chuckled, and she heard him set his bag on the floor. She went to the fridge and considered the beverage options inside. There wasn't much. There were several half-drunk bottles of water, one three-quarters empty soda can, and two bottles of seltzer. So she snagged the bottle of lemon seltzer, screwed off the cap, and snagged a glass from the drying rack. After the glass was filled and the bottle stored once more, she grabbed a half filled bag of chips. Gwyn then stepped back into the living room, where Alan was seated on the couch. He was leaned over his knees, peering down at something on the coffee table––a now opened binder of the notes she used to send to Wu.

"Hope you don't mind seltzer; it's the only thing I've got right now," she said, setting the glass and chip bag down. She seated herself beside Alan, who did not say whether or not he minded seltzer, and continued to read through the catalogue of old reports. He tapped on one of the pages, which was protected by a thin plastic sleeve.

"All of this is very good, Gwyn. It's good work…" he complimented as he flipped to another page.

"They've kept me sufficiently busy… I don't think there's been many evenings where I haven't had to do extra paperwork."

"What is it they exactly have you doing?" Alan looked up at her inquiringly, a curious furrow between his brows. "You mentioned a… contract change over the phone a week or two ago."

Gwyn felt her stomach drop at the question. Inquiries regarding the work she was doing were going to come up, she had known that, but she hadn't expected them so soon. She thought she had more time to figure out how to answer the possible questions––but all she could do was stare at Alan with a very deer-in-the-headlights kind of look. While Gwyn scrambled to find the words––any words––to say, her father's eyes started to narrow a little. His brows twitched into a slightly deeper furrow. Gwyn's hand jumped up to rub the nape of her neck, her elbow propped up on the back of the couch.

"I've, uh… I've been working with Owen and his team a lot more, helping out around the paddock. But… we don't have to talk about all that now, you're probably tired from all the traveling; and I don't want to bore you with all of the… ins-and-outs of what I do just yet," Gwyn tried to dismiss casually. She shrugged and smiled, but the tips of her fingers dug into the back of her neck anxiously.

Alan pursed his lips in a manner Gwyn was all too familiar with. It was one he wore when he was none-too-pleased with something; he knew that she was avoiding answering the question, because he knew her all too well. The only question was whether he would press her for answers, or let her get away with the avoidance for now. Silently, Alan turned back to the binder, flipped it shut, and snagged the glass of seltzer. He took a sip before casting a look at his daughter from the corner of his eye.

"So, am I gonna meet this Owen guy?" he asked.

Relief swept through Gwyn when she realized that she was––momentarily––off the hook. She shrugged in order to preface her response. "If you'd like."

"Oh, I would like to," Alan drawled in a deadpan. Gwyn fixed him with a look as flat as his tone. "What? Can't I want to meet my daughter's friends? Ones who… answer her phone at seven in the morning."

"Dad."

"What?"

Gwyn ran a hand over her face and sighed into her palm as it passed over her mouth. "That was… an off day, you know that," she reminded.

She watched Alan's expression soften from protective father, to concerned father. The furrow between his brows disappeared, the firm line of his mouth became gentler, and the wryness in his eyes disappeared, replaced by something more empathetic. Alan stretched out an arm across the back of the loveseat and curled it around her shoulders. Gwyn let him guide her to lean against his side, her head easily falling to be cushioned by his shoulder. She tucked her feet up onto the sofa cushions and let her eyes fall shut.

"I know… it's why I came. I came to make sure my little Dirt Fairy was okay."

Gwyn felt Alan's lips press against the top of her head, where they remained for a loving moment. She sagged against him a little, a small pinch appeared between her brows. "I'm okay…" she said quietly, though her brows pulled a little closer together, deepening the pinch. She was okay––she was just quite stressed and constantly conflicted regarding her work with the Indominus. Work that she wanted nothing more than to discuss with someone; to be able to voice her worries, her frustrations. But it was work she couldn't discuss, not without risking her job.

Alan squeezed her shoulder and rested his cheek atop her head. "I'm sure you are."

OOOO

Gwyn had taken a page out of Owen Grady's book and had decided to name the two Indominus Rexes that she was charged with observing. It saved her from having to say the ridiculous name out loud, and it would simply make it easier than calling them 'Asset A' and 'Asset B.' Gwyn had dubbed Asset A––the first born, so to speak––Irene, and Asset B––the one that she had helped hatch––Ingrid. It had become easy to tell which one was Irene and which one was Ingrid; Ingrid had become more dominant, despite her weaker start. There was something almost… bitter and spiteful about her behavior towards her sister. Ingrid was always snapping at Irene and making sure that her sibling got the second cut of their food; not the first––never the first.

Observations regarding food had been what she'd been focusing on in the last week. They were old enough, now, to start showing the true colors of their brand new species; and their dietary and eating habits were under close scrutiny. Notes on those behaviors were what Gwyn was going over as she paced the length of the paddock's observation area.

The assets appear to prefer living food as opposed to being given an already deceased carcas

Asset A––whom I am now calling Irene––has started to stand down to Asset B––Ingrid––when their are fed

Ingrid appears territorial over her food, and will only allow Irene to eat when she is finished

There is some aggression surrounding feeding times

Both assets are starting to predict the feeding pattern

"Morning, Dr. Grant," greeted Pete, the day-time technician. Gwyn looked up and watched him take a seat behind the control panel, taking the place of Frank, who monitored everything at the paddock overnight.

"Morning, Pete," she greeted pleasantly. Gwyn then turned a smile on the exhausted employee shuffling towards the door. "Rest up, Frank."

Frank raised a hand and nodded, managing some semblance of a tired smile. "Thank you, Dr. Grant," he said before disappearing through the door.

Gwyn continued to scroll through her notes, her fingers sliding upwards on the smooth glass screen. When she reached the bottom of the last document, she opened up a new one and typed the date in as the header.

"You come in early to monitor the new feeding routine?" Pete asked.

"The what?" Gwyn asked, looking up from her tablet. The technician seemed a little thrown by the question she was asking. He blinked at her a little and then gestured to the floor-to-ceiling windows with his thumb.

"The… new feeding routine. Miss Dearing and a couple of the folks at the lab are swinging by to watch." When Gwyn continued to stare at Pete blankly, he tried to prompt her with a raise of his eyebrows. "Y'know, the one they made based off your observation that the Indominuses started to predict feeding patterns."

"I was not made aware that there was going to be a change."

"Yeah, they've installed a crane so they can lower in their food; today's the first day they're putting it into use," he elaborated.

Gwyn pressed her lips into a firm line, the muscles in her jaw tensing anxiously. "Live prey, right? They're still being fed live prey?" Her voice was a little higher pitched than normal and the pace with which she spoke had quickened. Much to her utter dismay, Pete made a face and shook his head.

"No, they're switching to steer carcass. Why, does that matter?"

"As a matter of fact, it does," she deadpanned in a grumble.

There was a sharp thwack when Gwyn slapped her tablet against the side of her leg. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and turned towards the observation windows. Wu had tried to ban her from using her cell phone at the paddock, but Claire had rushed to her rescue to inform him that, in case of emergency, Gwyn needed it on her person. She stared at the phone's dark screen for a long moment, debating what to do. She and her father had had plans for lunch, but it would be remiss if she didn't try and deal with the issue of the crane before anyone was stuck to it. After a sigh, she tapped out a sequence of numbers, brought the phone up to her ear, and listened to the dial tone. After a couple of rings, the other end picked up.

"Hey, Gwyn, what's up?" asked Owen. In the background she could hear the faint sounds of the paddock's afternoon hustle and bustle; it was a familiar set of sounds to her, now, and they were comforting––almost––in her moment of frustration.

"Hey, I know this is… sudden, but I need to ask you for a favor," Gwyn sighed.

"What do you need?" The reply was almost instantaneous, like the snap of someone's fingers.

Gwyn pulled a face and scrunched her eyes shut. "It's, like… a huge favor, Owen, and, quite frankly, you are the only person on this damn island I trust enough to ask to do it."

"What is it, Gwyn?" he reiterated. It sounded as though he were waiting to be given an order in the military; his tone was measured and his readiness was apparent.

"I need to stay here and try and talk some sense into some of the higher-ups. I had lunch plans with my dad, but I don't think that I'm gonna be out of here in time. I know it's a lot to ask, especially since you haven't met him… but he's decided that he wants to venture out into the park and I don't want him to be alone," Gwyn explained. She couldn't bring herself to ask the request outright.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. It was a pause that seemed to last for an eternity.

"So, you want me to take Dr. Alan Grant, king of the deadpan, out to lunch?"

"It doesn't have to be lunch––hell, you could set him up at the back of Starbucks with a book from the gift shop and he'd be fine with it. Probably."

There was a chuckle from Owen's end of the line, which melted some of the anxiety that had settled itself thickly across Gwyn's shoulders. She loved the sound of his laughter. When it was genuine, it was warm and hearty and often drawn from the back of his throat. Gwyn could just picture the crooked smile on his face.

"I can take a long lunch," Owen told her.

A whoosh of relieved breath flooded past Gwyn's lips and her head lolled backwards. "Owen, you're the best. I owe you a drink."

Another chuckle. "Well, now, let's not say 'owe.' But I'll take you up on the drink nonetheless. So where we you gonna have lunch?"

"We didn't decide, but I trust your good judgement. We were gonna meet up in the lobby of the Innovation Center; to find him, just look for the hat, I gave it back to him. And if he's not wearing it, I'm sure you'll be able to tell by the look of absolute animosity he'll be fixing everything with," she joked in a deadpan. "And I'll let him know to keep a look out for you, so it's not another phone call incident."

"Good call."

"Thank you so much, Owen," Gwyn exhaled gratefully. "You're amazing."

"Don't even worry about it. Now, go give 'em hell, Gwyn Grant, take no prisoners," he chuckled on the other end light-heartedly. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.

"I won't. Thanks again." Just as she hung up, the door to the observation room opened, and a small number of people––technicians and scientists alike––stepped into the room. Gwyn pocketed her phone and lifted her chin. "Miss Dearing, I need to have a word."

OOOO

When faced with the fact he was about to meet Dr. Alan Grant, Owen felt unnecessarily anxious. Or, perhaps, there was a necessary anxiety, seeing as both men hadn't gotten off on the right foot when they'd initially spoken on the phone. Alan's deadpan tone of displeasure was easy to recall, and the thought of having to face that same tone with the matching––and apparently infamous––facial expression was enough to cause Owen's stomach to wrench a little. And maybe––just maybe––he was anxious to make a good impression. He wanted to make a good impression because Alan was Gwyn's father. And, with the recent feelings that had come to light for Owen, making that good impression was important.

What initially seemed to be the near-impossible feat of finding a face that Owen had only ever seen in photographs, turned out to be very easy. It was easy only for the fact that he was stood outside of the Innovation Center, wearing the hat that rightfully belonged atop his head. Alan Grant was an imposing figure, much to Owen's surprise. Not imposing because he was particularly tall or large, but imposing because he had a presence. He stood with his arms crossed and his legs braced hip-width apart, sweeping the landscape of the resort with piercing eyes. There was a prominent furrow between his brows and a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Despite being surrounded by dozens of milling people, Alan was the person that Owen saw. It was plainly clear that he was where Gwyn learned to have a commanding presence.

"Dr. Grant," Owen greeted upon approaching the paleontologist. Alan's attention snapped to him with a sharp accuracy. Eyes of a familiar blue hue scanned Owen from head-to-toe with an intense scrutiny, one that he couldn't waver under.

When Alan finally met Owen's gaze, he arched an eyebrow. "I take it that you're Owen Grady?"

"Yes, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." Owen offered a hand for Alan to shake, inclining his head respectfully.

Alan let his arms unfold before he grasped the offered hand and shook it. The handshake was firm. Alan's fingers and palm were calloused, Owen could feel, in similar spots to Gwyn's. He nodded once, eyes never leaving Owen's face. "It's good to finally meet you face-to-face, Mr. Grady." The tone of his voice could only be described as fatherly. There was a flatness to it that reminded Owen of that awkward phone call––and he believed that was purposeful.

It was all Owen could do to incline his head a second time. His heart was beating a little faster than normal. "The same can be said for you, Dr. Grant. I've heard a lot about you, and it's truly an honor to meet you."

"So," Alan exhaled upon the handshaking breaking, "you've come to my daughter's rescue again. You're a regular superman, aren't you?" His hands migrated into the pockets of his pants, but his eyes remained sharp and vaguely narrowed. Alan's scrutiny was unignorable and it spoke the world of what Gwyn meant to him. She meant so much to him that no chances were going to be taken; Gwyn may have spoken kindly of Owen, but Alan needed to make his own judgement, a judgement that would be final––and he was making that perfectly clear.

Owen had the grace to chuckle and shake his head. A fond smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. "Nah, I'm no superman. Gwyn's perfectly capable of saving herself; she's a very strong woman. I'm just happy to help her out any way I can," Owen admitted wholeheartedly.

Alan hummed shortly, interestedly, and Owen watched his eyes dart over him from head-to-toe once again. He then jerked his chin towards Main Street, which was positively buzzing with afternoon madness. Owen followed his gaze to look over the crowds, which milled and seethed almost dizzyingly.

"Gwyn said that you know the best places to eat in this circus," Alan mentioned. Owen's brows had risen on the not-so-fondly-spoken word 'circus.' The older man turned and peered at him from under the brim of his hat; Alan smiled a little crookedly and gestured towards Main Street. "So. Lead the way, Mr. Raptor Trainer."

Owen had decided that Margaritaville was the place that would be least offensive to Alan. The majority of the other restaurants either played up to the idea of a dinosaur theme way too much––and while Margaritaville had some themed drinks and foods, there really wasn't much––or the others didn't seem to fit him as a person. Alan seemed like the kind of man who had a particular bar that he frequented, a place where the bartender knew his prefered beer and his favorite burger. That was how Owen found himself seated across from the famous paleontologist in a corner of the aforementioned restaurant. Drinks had arrived. Food had been ordered. Alan had scoffed at the themed names just as Gwyn had her first time there.

Conversation had been minimal since they arrived, the two men having gone over the menu in silence. Owen did not want to overstep a boundary and recommend food, so he didn't. And he had quietly given the menu a perusal despite already knowing what he would get. He took the opportunity to observe Alan a little closer. His hair––once of a similar color to Gwyn's, if the photographs were anything to go by––had gone mostly white at the temples, and the rest was streaked with grey and silver. There were signs that he'd spent a lot of time furrowing his brows and twisting his lips into a frown. Though there were prominent lines evident at the corners of his eyes; it was evidence that he did, indeed, smile, and that he did it often enough to warrant the lines. His expression had relaxed somewhat, and he looked kinder. Still serious, but kinder. There was a focused look to him that reminded Owen very much of Gwyn.

Once the waiter had slipped off with their orders, Alan leaned back in his chair and fixed Owen with another firm look.

"You must be a very brave man, Mr. Grady," Alan stated.

Owen, who had been taking a sip of his beer, raised his brows. It almost felt as though he was in a job interview with a potential employer. Alan seemed like a very straight forward man. The beer bottle was set back down on its coaster with a quiet thunk. "How do you mean?"

"To work with velociraptors you've either got to be brave or stupid, and Gwyn has assured me that you are not the latter. That means that you must be brave." Alan had delivered the statement in a deadpan, one so familiar that Owen was nearly thrown. It was a drawl that had been pulled from Gwyn's lips many a time, and it was quite a thing to hear it from the man who had taught it to her. It was the kind of tone that made Owen question whether or not he was being insulted or genuinely questioned; it was the drawl that he'd heard in the Innovation Center lecture auditorium, as Gwyn tore into a man who'd insulted her and her profession.

"I mean, to work with any of the animals on this island requires a certain amount of bravery. The girls––the raptors––are a challenge to work with. And… I suppose that working with them does require a little more grit," Owen admitted slowly. It was hard to find a proper way to respond; he enjoyed doing his job, but he didn't find himself saying that he was brave in doing it. In lieu of anything else to say on the matter, he gestured to the man sat across from him with a slight raise of his hand. "And you must be a very courageous man, Dr. Grant, for coming back to this island after everything you've been through. Courage seems to run in the family."

There was a faint scoff from Alan, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little. Whether it be towards a smile or a grimace, Owen couldn't tell; he was very good at masking what he didn't want others to see. The paleontologist's brows quirked upwards in an almost wry manner. He hooked a finger around the neck of his beer bottle and drew it towards himself. Alan made direct eye contact with Owen, his expression dry and almost joking.

"Wouldn't say courage," he deadpanned. He took a swig of beer and considered its label before he set it down. "I'd call it stupidity. But love––no matter the kind––makes you do stupid things. And I would do anything for my little girl, even come back to this damn place…"

Alan swept his eyes across the restaurant again, lips tightening into a stern line. It was like he was seeing past the plaster walls and the stone tile floors to what had been there years before. He was seeing trees, impossibly tall and untouched. He was seeing the dangers that lurked between the trunks, shadowy and seemingly impossible. What Alan Grant was seeing was what Gwyn Grant saw every day; they saw the island as it was when they first arrived some twenty years ago before they saw any of the new structures. They remembered everything that was there before, and it lingered in their minds like a ghost, ever present and looming. When the paleontologist's eyes drifted back to the table, Alan gently raised his eyebrows, expression a little softer.

"You gotta be a certain kind of stupid to be on this island, for any period of time. I was stupid to drag Gwyn here all those years ago. I was stupid to go to Isla Sorna. I was stupid to let Gwyn come back…" Alan shook his head, lips pulling down at the corners. "She once said that the Grants don't realize that a situation can be detrimental till it becomes detrimental," Alan said with a mild shake of his head.

With a curious tilt of his head, Owen asked, "And has this endeavor of hers been a detriment?"

Alan shifted his coaster aside, sliding his beer bottle along with it; he scooted his chair forward and leaned on the table, slanting his body over it. It was like he was going to share a secret with Owen, and there was a faint glimmer in his eyes that made the raptor trainer wonder if he was about to get lectured Grant-style by the man who had coined it.

"You're… aware that the nightmare Gwyn had the other week was not… normal? That it wasn't just a nightmare, right?" he asked in a hushed tone. Owen nodded and sat a little more up right in his chair; the subject called to attention was nothing to be casual about.

"It was a night terror," Owen said quietly. He recalled the image of Gwyn clawing at her blankets like they were attacking her. The fierceness with which her fist had struck his arm. The tears that had rolled down her cheeks upon realizing it had all been a nightmare. The tightness with which she had clung to him, as though he were the only solid thing in the universe.

"That's right. It was the night terror, the one she's had since she was a kid. It… has a hasty habit of disappearing for extended periods of time before making its grand reappearance. It was the reason she didn't live on her college campus. The last time I remember Gwyn having that night terror, she was twenty-four. Visiting for Christmas. She woke up… screaming, crying. Crammed up against the headboard of her old bed like she was living in a waking nightmare. I held my little girl like she was eleven years old again, fresh off this damn island. After that, it disappeared––for good, seemingly. And then… Gwyn comes here and it resurfaces, strong as it ever was. Maybe stronger. Would you call that detrimental, Mr. Grady?" Alan asked, tone low.

When Gwyn had said that it had 'been years' since she'd had the night terror, Owen hadn't figured she'd meant seven years. He thought, maybe two or three years––sometimes he had nightmares disappear for a year only for them to come back. But seven years was a long time to feel free from the clutches of something so awful. With furrowed brows and a troubled frown, Owen recalled how badly Gwyn's hands had been shaking and how lost she had seemed for minutes after fully waking up. Owen cleared his throat and scratched at the scruff on his jaw.

"I, uh… I know that being back on this island has dredged up some… real bad shit for Gwyn. I've been there first hand to see a lot of that. And I suspect that, yes, all of those memories and familiar sights contributed to the night terror resurfacing," Owen agreed, though his tone make it clear that he had more to say. Alan seemed to pick up on that, as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "However… the work that Gwyn has been doing here––work for herself, work for the dinosaurs… has been anything but detrimental."

"Throwing herself into the devastating sight line of four velociraptors wasn't a detriment?" There was the deadpan again, drier and flatter than before. It felt like all the air in their corner of the restaurant had been sucked out.

Owen was aware the subject matter was touchy and that he had to be very, very careful with how he went about discussing it. It needed to be very clear that Gwyn's well-being was of the utmost importance––because it was. He cleared his throat and sat forward a little, the middle of his forearms pressed against the table edge. Alan was watching him the closest since they'd met. The chatter of the restaurant seemed inconsequential, distant. The two men were locked in an intense conversation that would not end till it reached a satisfying conclusion.

"It was difficult at first, yes. But we both agreed that she wouldn't do anything she wasn't comfortable with. Gwyn dictates every step she takes with the girls; I'm just there to make sure everyone's safe," Owen assured, his tone measured.

Alan's head quirked to the side. "And is she? Safe?"

"Absolutely." Owen's expression was firm and serious, as was his tone. His shoulders had squared and his chin had lifted. "She wouldn't be allowed to set foot on site if she wasn't. Every employee at paddock ten has to know the emergency and security measures backwards and forwards before they're allowed to work on site. It's a requirement."

"Of the park's?"

"Of mine. I run the operation up at the paddock, so I was allowed to make a couple calls on who gets hired and who doesn't. I can't have anyone half-assing their job; we all know where that leads."

"Disaster," Alan agreed. One of his hands rose to his left cheek, fingers rubbing at one particular spot, just below his cheekbone––there was a small scar there, faint but present. In the silence that followed the single word he spoke, Alan scrutinized Owen for the third time. "Gotta say, I about had a heart attack when Gwyn told me she was gonna be working more closely with the velociraptors. One of those things nearly took her from me twenty years ago. She… told me that it was all gonna be fine, 'cause the handler seemed like a man with a good head on his shoulders." Alan slowly started to nod. "Seems like she might've been right."

Relief coursed through Owen's body in a sudden flood. It was enough for his shoulder to visibly relax. "Thank you, Dr. Grant."

"Yeah, don't get too comfortable, Mr. Grady––we've still got a lot to discuss."

Afterword: I had to end it there, otherwise there would have been twenty more pages of Alan slowly sinking his interrogation claws into poor Owen. (But we will get more of that, 'cause that was too much fun to write). I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

Review Replies!

JosieoftheRose: Truly––Owen and Gwyn are two cinnamon rolls at heart, they're just a little tough––but golden brown––on the outside. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

RHatch89: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

MsRosePetal: I'm having too much fun writing Papa Bear Alan––and we'll only get more of that when Gwyn swings in and he gets to see Owen and his little girl together. Which means we'll get some more Owyn sweetness. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Evaline101: I'm not sure if Alan will go to the paddock, 'cause I feel like that might be the final straw for him. I think he could probably stomach seeing some of the other dinos, but I think he'd probably draw the line at the raptors, the t-rex, and any of the creatures in the aviary. He'd probably like to see a brachiosaurus again, if anything. And Hoskins may or may not be popping up sometime soon… I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

katy1986: Answer to where we are in relation to the movie––we are probably… four months out? Give or take a month or two? I've mostly been trying to base the timeline around how long I think that it would take the Indominus to grow to the size it is in the film. Since it's a super-dino, all spliced together and bio-enhanced, I figure that they probably enhanced its growth rate so they could put it out to the public as soon as possible. I don't want to draw out pre-movie stuff on forever, I just want to establish Gwyn and Owen's relationship fairly well before Jurassic World begins. Ellie will make an appearance after the film events, and I'm excited to write her again. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!

ArtemeisLuna85: Alan's met Owen! It was simultaneously so fun and such a struggle to write him being super protective and wary over meeting him. Next up on the 'must meet' list is Lowery, and, maybe, Hoskins. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!

Faron Oakenshield: I… adore Echo. So much. And, odd as it is to say I love writing a dinosaur and their personality, I love writing Echo for that exact reason. Echo and Blue. Alan has.. Quite the opinion on the island––barely veiled contempt. And he's very happy to let anyone know that. And I do believe that there is some growing affection between our two favorite people… ;) I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

NicoleR85: Thank you! I absolutely adore writing Owen and Gwyn interacting with each other; there's never ending fun in finding all the possibilities. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter––thanks again!

WriterGirl1198: I cannot thank you enough. I am so happy that you've enjoyed this story so much, and glad to hear that––upon your re-watches of the films––I've kept Alan in good characterization. As he isn't always present like Owen (and that I've added the fatherly aspect to him) I fear that I'll steer him out of character. Honestly, Gwyn is who I want to be when I grow up, and I'm already grown up. It is the biggest compliment that, while reading this, it's easy to forget that the movie events are different; that, and that you've enjoyed the story so much that you've picked it back up again. Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

AugustRrush: Thank you so much; I hope you enjoyed the new chapter just as much as the last one!

LegandsofTime: I cheer the exact same thing any time I think about Alan Grant or rewatch any of the original films. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

supboyyyy93: As you've considered the last chapter the best one yet, I hope this one held up to the standard! Alan's stay on the island may be short, but BOY will he make the most of his time there. And we'll get more Gwyn and Echo stuff… and more Gwyn and Owen stuff… And god help Wu if Alan even catches sight of him while he's there. Again, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter just as much as the last; thanks again!

WaywardandWanderlust: Gwyn's definitely building herself up slowly but surely. She's gonna need all of that courage for when shit goes down (again). And the gift shop scene hit me one day upon my reflection of the one trip I took to Disney World and made an utter fool of myself trying hats on. It just seemed like something so… perfectly innocent for these two to experience with one another. I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter, too; thanks again!

LoveFiction2018: Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

hockeychick19: Glad that you've enjoyed the story so far! Thanks again!

mchurch1992: Shit is gonna get real in every aspect from here on out––everything with the Indominus, stuff with the girls, stuff with Hoskins, stuff between Owen and Gwyn… it's all ramping up. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Guest: Alan and Owen finally meet face-to-face… and their conversation regarding his relationship with Gwyn is still yet to be dragged up. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

monkeybaby: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

PhAnToM 1212: Oh, we'll be getting more Echo content. She's going to be very important to Gwyn's growing courage regarding her presence around the girls. And we'll have some more Alan for the next chapter (and a half). I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!

Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967: Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter, too!

DreamBubbles: Oh, when Alan finds out that Gwyn's been made to work under Wu… it'll take everything on that island to stop him from tearing the buildings apart brick by brick. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!

SeaGoddessOfStarlight: Thank you, I'm glad you've been enjoying the chapters! Hope you enjoyed the new one!

AmericanNidiot: Owen is already realizing it's gonna take a little more than a conversation and some reassurances for Alan to approve of him. And there are so many more conversations that they're going to, and have to, have. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

ThunderNinja4Ever: I've been contemplating Wu and Alan meeting up again––do I think it would be near cataclysmic? Absolutely. Do I think it would be fun to write? Absolutely. We'll have to see what unfolds… I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

fallondyson: Here's an update! Hope you enjoyed it!

Maria: Thank you so much! Writing flirtation is actually very difficult, so I'm glad that it read nice and natural. We'll get some down-low info on what Alan thought of Owen come next chapter, when Owen has to slip back to work… that's gonna be real fun. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

EllieDragon: I'm really loving writing Echo and Gwyn's progression, and Gwyn's over-all relationship with the girls. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!

And thank you to all that have added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!

That's that for now! Next up we'll get some more Alan and Gwyn time, and Owen will get caught between dealing with TWO Grants deadpanning at the same time! I, as always, thank you all for your patience with me. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope to get the next chapter up soon! Thanks again!

~Mary