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.
22. Astronomer, Astronaut
Gwyn was seated in the middle of her bed, surrounded by a tangle of blankets and skewed pillows. It was early in the morning––about five-fifteen––and she couldn't sleep. The heat of the previous day had broken in form of a thunderstorm, which had shaken her from sleep with a jolt. The growling of the thunder, pounding of the rain, and hissing of the wind was enough to prevent her from falling asleep again. So she'd quietly crept into the kitchen to make coffee, moving quietly as not to wake her father. That coffee sat in a mug on her bedside table, steaming away, ignored as she pulled up an email from Owen. A few days prior, he had sent an email laden with video files. They were video diaries recording the girls' progress since Owen had been assigned to work with them. Most of them were short––five minutes at most––though on particularly good or trying days, they stretched anywhere between ten to fifteen minutes.
Since the storm had awoken Gwyn at four-twenty, she'd watched a healthy handful of the video diaries. A notebook teetered on her knee, notes of her own taken there in a vaguely sleepy scrawl. It was good to have context of what had happened before she'd started observing, and Owen had apologized for not getting the diaries to her sooner. It was fascinating to watch Owen work with the girls when they were but wee little things. When they were small they were cute; but even then they were vicious. In most of the videos of him working with the small, ankle-height velociraptors, he was wearing knee-high leather boots and a leather arm-guard on his left forearm. The hard leather protected against unwarranted lunges, Gwyn supposed, which the rowdy little things seemed to do often.
With those diaries, Gwyn witnessed the formation of the hunting pack as it was, little Blue screeching out little orders only they could understand to fall in place. She witnessed Owen and Blue begin to form a close bond. It gave her a fuller picture of why these girls meant so much to Owen––and how much he meant to them. For the first time ever, Gwyn was allowed to see a different side of a velociraptor pack, one that she had not thought possible. Never in a million years had she thought that a raptor could show affection; affection that allowed Owen to rub a knuckle against Blue's leathery cheek. It was a revelation that still put her on edge––the idea of being so comfortably close with a raptor was still a little stomach turning––but shocked her enough to cause her shoulders to drop. It was enough to remind her that her stupid plea to Owen to let her touch one of the girls could be done; she just had to buck-up and go through with it.
Gwyn pulled up the next video as she grabbed her coffee, clicking on play as the thick smell of coffee and flavored creamer hit her nose.
A disgruntled looking Owen appeared on her screen. He was sat back in his chair, mouth tense and brows furrowed. Both his arms were crossed over his chest, and he was silent for a good ten seconds. His face was illuminated on one side by what was probably his living room lamp; there was a beer bottle just slightly out of frame to the left. Before he spoke, he cleared his throat, and worked his mouth a little.
"I was informed, today, that they've hired someone to come in to help with the behavioral analysis of the girls," Owen informed flatly. Gwyn's eyebrows rose. He was talking about her. She sat forward a little and watched as Owen, on screen, snagged his beer bottle and sniffed a tad indignantly. His brows were furrowed low over his eyes. "Don't know why." He brought the bottle to his downturned lips. "I thought I was doing a perfectly fine job…" The bottle was tilted back and Owen took a hearty gulp. He sat it back on the table and started to slowly rotate it by the neck, unable to stop fidgeting while he talked. "Probably some… high-and-mighty asshole from InGen. I don't need another Hoskins breathing down my neck to make sure I'm getting stuff done. I'm perfectly capable of documenting the girls' progress myself––they trust me, and a new person is going to be an unpredictable element that we don't need. But what park command says is gospel, so… gonna have to deal with it." Owen shook his head and propped his cheek up on a fist, staring blankly off to the side of the computer. He sighed, then, and shut his eyes, his other hand dashing out to stop the recording.
Gwyn stared at the frozen image of a very conflicted looking Owen. She had to give credit where credit was due––if it hadn't been for watching that video, she would have never guessed that he had been initially displeased with the idea of her presence. He had acted professionally and had welcomed her into his place of work. Not once had Gwyn glimpsed this conflicted side of him, this side of him that clearly had not wanted her there initially. Curiously, she selected the next video, which was dated a week later.
It started with Owen staring off to the side with a peculiar look on his face. His eyes were a little narrowed, his brows slightly pinched. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused, as though re-evaluating what he was going to say. His lips then smashed together, forming a firm line. Then Owen's hand popped into frame, one finger pointed upwards.
"She was not what I expected," he stated. "Gwyn Grant…" The faintest of smiles pulled at the corner of his mouth, and his shoulders jumped with subdued laughter. "Grant… I cannot believe that Claire is letting a Grant into her perfectly curated institution. Y'know, I can't believe that a Grant opted to set foot on this island again… this place should be scaring her away… she was not what I expected…" With that statement reiterated, the smile on his face grew a little, though his eyes remained thoughtfully narrowed. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, doesn't seem like she takes anyone's shit. She'll need that with Hoskins lurking around."
Gwyn chuckled under her breath and hugged the mug between her hands, before drawing it to her chest. From that video on, Gwyn was brought up with increasing frequency––fleetingly, sometimes, but he did mention her quite a bit. Her progress with the girls. How proud he was of her, how brave he thought she was being. Gwyn's chest felt just as warm as the mug, though not because of the coffee; it was warm because of the way Owen smiled as he talked about her. The way his eyebrows would arch when he realized he wasn't talking about the girls anymore, and had to drag himself back onto the true subject at hand. It made her smile dopily to herself, alone in her bedroom at five-fifteen AM.
The storm had started to taper off, and as the grumbling thunder disappeared, Gwyn's sleepiness made a reappearance. She'd sprawled out across her bed in favor of sitting, her chin propped up on her forearms as she blearily watched the next video diary. It wasn't long before she shut her eyes and listened to the soothing tenor of Owen's voice. It helped lull her back to sleep, the grumbling of thunder no longer a bother or a distraction.
OOOO
Ingrid and Irene were getting big, and they were getting big fast.
This was something that Gwyn had come to realize in the last few weeks, and it sparked an acrid sense of concern in her stomach. Their growth rate was… alarming, almost. The two Indominuses were growing faster than expected; they were almost months ahead of their predicted growth rate. They were a foot-and-a-half taller than they were two weeks ago, and that was frightening. But whenever she tried to bring it up to someone, they brushed it off with a shrug and said that it was 'good to be ahead of schedule.' They'd get to open the paddock sooner. To top it all off, they were becoming more restless. More aggressive. There wasn't enough to occupy them when it wasn't feeding time, because their food wasn't live. They had too much excess energy for a high-functioning predator. As a result, they were getting snippy with each other, even more aggressive than usual; and that was just as concerning, if not more, than their growth rate. It was these concerns Gwyn was preparing to talk to Claire about as she arrived at the Indominus paddock.
But upon her arrival, she saw that the paddock was distinctly more lively than usual. Workers were gathered outside, clumped in groups, gesturing wildly at the concrete walls of the paddock. There was a panicked franticness to the energy with which people shuffled about outside, which put Gwyn on edge instinctively. Any thoughts of the Indominus' alarming growth rate was put on the backburner. It was with a sharp slash of fear that Gwyn realized something must have happened. Everyone was huddled close together, worried eyes darting towards the paddock. Their fingers toyed nervously with watches, helmets, and shirt collars. People gave her weary side-eyed looks as she passed them by, which made her walk faster, concern rising up into her throat. By the time she had climbed the stairs that led to the observation room, she could hear raised voices on the other side of the door. When she pulled it open, she spotted a very disgruntled man, accompanied by two other colleagues.
"I won't say it again, I'm done!" he exclaimed. He whipped off his white hard-hat and hurled it at the floor. It struck the concrete with a painful cracking sound, which seemed to emphasize his exclamation.
"Excuse me?" Claire replied. She shook her head, her sleek red hair swaying around her face.
"What's going on?" Gwyn inquired, the door swinging shut behind her.
The man ignored the second inquiry and a finger at his own chest. He was sweating and heavily flushed, his clothes in a disarray. "I quit."
"I think we could have this conversation in a more reasonable tone––" Claire started, holding out a placating hand. The man scoffed and cut her off.
"Reasonable? Lady, that thing nearly took off my arm! Meanwhile, you're in here, not lifting a finger, watching as we risk our lives so you can keep yourself comfy!"
Gwyn gaped at the riled-up worker, darted her eyes to Claire, and then stepped further into her room. The paleontologist pointed to the wall of windows, through which the jungle foliage of the paddock swayed in the hot, tropical breeze.
"What do you mean they nearly took your arm off?" she questioned. "Feeding is all done remotely now."
The man braced his hands on his hips and huffed a breath through chapped lips. His attention wheeled onto Gwyn, the look in his eyes saying that he was clearly happy to have someone to dump his issues on. "The crane was malfunctioning, so we had to do it by hand today. I've done the routine dozens of times before we got that piece of goddamn machinery; but it was like those things knew I was coming." When Gwyn could only stare at him, dumbfounded, he raised his brows pointedly and then spoke slowly. "We went back to the old routine."
"They let you inside?" Gwyn stressed incredulously. The old feeding routine consisted of the Indominus' handlers releasing live prey into the paddock at ground level. The had a rotation of where the meals were released, so Ingrid and Irene wouldn't be able to pinpoint a single spot that food came from. But not once did that require any of the trainers to actually set foot inside. It was a risky routine to start with, even with live prey; but with carcasses being the new prefered food, that meant that they would have to drag the meat into the paddock.
"It was working all week until today! I was in there for less than ten seconds before one of those monsters came at me. Like I said: it's like it knew I was coming."
Horror grew in a hot bubble inside Gwyn's stomach. She looked at the window wall and let her eyes dance across it frantically, searching for any sign of the progressively more massive frankensaurs. Words from long ago, spoken by a big game hunter on that very island, came nipping at the back of her head. Without realizing it, she had started to shake her head, her mouth falling open.
"They predicted it… they know the routine…"
"Predicted? Know?" the worker stressed. His eyes darted between Claire and Gwyn, then his other colleagues, who had gone pale in horror at the paleontologist's words. "Jesus Christ, I'm out of here. I'm gone; you're all crazy, goddamn insane!"
With that, the worker stormed from the observation room, leaving his colleagues to start arguing with Claire about their safety. They threatened to quit if it wasn't guaranteed. This argument was the background noise that spurred Gwyn to approach the windows tentatively. The only other time she had heard of a group of dinosaurs predicting where their food source had come from was at the original park. The first pack of velociraptors had started to predict their feeding patterns. She started to gnaw on her thumbnail, eyes darting about the foliage in search of one of the Indominuses. But she couldn't see any of their silvery-white skin. They were hiding.
"You're going to have to go back to using live prey," Gwyn informed firmly.
"What?" asked Claire.
"Live prey, you're going to have to go back to it. They're restless and looking to hunt, that's why they attacked him. Carcasses are good and all, easier, maybe, but it isn't supporting their way of living. They're animals with millions of years of instincts coiled up tight in their bodies. You can't give them a carcass and expect them to not get bored of it. And you might consider upping the amount of food you give them, too. They're growing at an alarming rate. That means they need more food, just like a growing little kid. So not only are they restless, they're hungry. That's never a good combination," Gwyn informed.
She turned away from the window and fixed Claire with a pleading look. The other two paddock employees had apparently left, Claire having likely placated them for the time being. That meant that Gwyn had been lost in her own world for god knew how long. The other woman fluttered her eyelids, taking in the influx of information Gwyn had just recited. The paleontologist, who had yet to put her bag down yet, approached her co-worker with her hands held out pleadingly. Claire hugged her tablet to her stomach silently, but made it clear that she was going to listen to whatever it was that was about to be said.
"I'm usually not the first to admit things like this, but what that man said scares me. This isn't me trying to seem… all-knowing about this kind of shit. This isn't me trying to gripe about my perpetual paranoia that everyone at this park is constantly in danger. This is me being genuinely scared for the immediate safety of the people working at this paddock. It they aren't safe, and they don't put their work in… then everyone is gonna be in danger. The people, the other dinosaurs… everything," Gwyn warned, her voice low and serious.
There was a beat of silence, in which Claire pursed her lips and sighed through her nose. "I… don't have the authority to make changes to the feeding routine. Park Operations covers a lot, but ultimately it's all in the hands of the lab," she admitted. There was a moment of tense silence, in which Claire drummed her fingers on the back of her tablet. Her lips had tensed into a thin line and her eyes were watching the foliage dance behind the windows. "But I can send out emails to the proper authorities and see what can be done."
Gwyn hung her head with a disgruntled sigh, hands finding her hips to grab in frustration. "Yeah. Right, yeah. Emails."
"I won't let your fears be unheard, Gwyn; they're valid. Really, they are. I… I think that there are changes that need to be made, too, and what you've suggested is sound. I'll compose the emails, send them out. Someone will see reason."
The paleontologist hummed under her breath and lifted her head. Claire was already tapping away at her tabled, pacing as she did so. Her heels clicked steadily as she moved, murmuring words under her breath as she typed. Gwyn watched as she tapped with frightening efficiency, clearly used to sending out emails at a rapid rate. With a steadying exhale, Gwyn bobbed her head to herself.
"Yeah… I think I've got an email of my own to write."
OOOO
"I am so glad that you dragged me back into the mouth of hell, just so I could watch you type on your phone," Alan grumped in a fatherly manner. He pulled the door to the mouth of hell––the Innovation Center––open and gestured for Gwyn to go ahead of him. She shot him a wry look as she passed him, her thumbs, indeed, tapping at her phone screen.
"It's a work email, it's important," she muttered. It was addressed to Masrani, detailing her worries regarding the Indominus Project. She scanned the email for errors, blindly navigating the crowd of people around her. Once Gwyn was sure that the email was typo free, she hit send, and let out a little breath of relief when it registered as 'sent.' An invisible weight on her shoulders lightened slightly, but not by much.
When she pocketed her phone and glanced over her shoulder, Alan was following behind her with crossed arms. He quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. "You done?"
With a roll of her eyes Gwyn nodded. She stopped dead in the sea of constantly moving, Hawaiian shirt wearing tourists, apologizing blandly when one of them shoulder-checked her and shot her a look. She shook her head and started to root around in her work bag, which was resting against her hip. "I, uh, have to return my work tablet to the lab. They have me lock it up at the end of the day to ensure I'm not gonna go on a… righteous rampage and leak all their precious information to the world. After that, we can grab something to eat."
Alan blinked at his daughter before he swept his hat off his head and gestured at her with it. Gwyn had forced him to wear it, having noticed a sunburn on the back of his neck starting to form. She eyed it as it was thrust into her field of vision, brows furrowing in mild confusion.
"I get the sense you haven't been completely honest with my about what you do here," he told her. His arm dropped to his side, hand fluttering so he could tap the fedora against his leg.
She couldn't help the way her facial expression smoothed out in subdued horror. The topic of her work had been briefly brushed aside in the midst of Alan attempting to convince her to come home sooner rather than later. But he was back on it, stubborn man he was, and the look in his eye said that he wasn't about to drop it.
"I, uh…" Gwyn scrambled to find something to say, something to placate him. But he jumped on her again, not giving her a chance to find anything.
"You tell me you split your time between working with Mr. Grady and working in the lab. If you worked in the lab," he gestured to the tablet in her hand, "you wouldn't have to go about returning that."
Gwyn gaped at him, lips fluttering wordlessly. She glanced around the crowded public space; it was uncomfortably hot outside, and the humidity––though broken by the storm––was starting to return. People were seeking refuge in the Innovation Center, waving hats and maps to fan themselves. The conversation was inevitable, Gwyn knew that, but it was not something they could talk about out in the open. She muttered an 'okay' and slid a step forward, leaning in towards Alan.
"Look, we can talk about it, but we can't do it now," Gwyn informed, voice low.
Alan shook his head, free hand rising to rest on his hip. The other hand waggled his hat back and forth through the air, a kind of denying gesture. He leaned in just as she had, their noses a hair's breadth away. And while, from an outside standing, it looked confrontational, it was just something that they did. When the Grants argued, they didn't get loud––they got snarky and they got quiet.
"Now's good a time as any, Gwyn. You can't keep shouldering this off, we're gonna have to talk about it."
"I'm not doing this to put it off, I'm doing this because I literally cannot speak about it in public!" Gwyn hissed through her teeth, anxiously darting her eyes to look at the surrounding people. Their odd posturing was enough to garner a couple of odd glances, but no one seemed particularly focused on them. They were too enthralled by the dinosaur kitsch. When she looked back at Alan, his expression had changed. It was no longer one of frustration, it was one of worry. Gwyn straightened up and arched her eyebrows. "We'll talk tonight. Okay?"
For a moment, all Alan did was stare at her. Then he pursed his lips, pushing them into a firm, thin line. He nodded his head once, begrudgingly agreeing; he then swung his hand upwards and fitted the fedora back onto his head. Gwyn murmured a 'thank you,' spoken on a relieved exhale. Just as she was about to turn towards the staircase, she was halted by a voice making a sudden exclamation.
"Holy shit, it's Alan Grant!"
Both Alan and Gwyn twisted around, brows furrowed, to see an excited teenage boy gaping in their direction. He'd spoken loudly, the volume of his observation drawing the attention of others in the Innovation Center. A low ripple of murmurs washed through the room. It was strange, watching people suddenly start to crane onto their tiptoes to try and see if the boy had been right. People started to creep towards them, saying things like 'it is him,' and 'that's his daughter!' Before they knew it, there was a crowd gathered around them, asking for pictures, holding out pens and maps, and spewing myriads of questions that blended together.
In clear shock, Alan and Gwyn huddled together. He wrapped an arm around her protectively and pulled her into his side, and Gwyn subtly clutched the side of his shirt. It was like these people were seeing their favorite celebrity. It was frightening and overwhelming. It was like Gwyn had told Claire the other day; things like this didn't happen to them. People didn't swarm them for autographs or pictures. The most that ever happened was a very impassioned paleontology student would come up and offer a very enthusiastic handshake. They had never experienced anything like the mass of people gathering around them. With each passing moment, Gwyn could feel her heart climbing into her throat, feel her anxiety levels rising. She did not like this. Any of this.
It wasn't long before Alan started to grump and gripe, telling people to step back. But his voice was lost in the jumble of excited tourists. The more his voice got lost, the tighter he clung to Gwyn, his own anxiety present in the press of his finger tips against her arm. Just as it felt like they were about to be overwhelmed by a rampaging pack of wolves, an unexpected voice came to their rescue.
"Give them space!" It was a proclamation. It was loud and halting and it caught most of everyone's attention. Gwyn's head whipped around and upwards, staring at none other than Dr. Henry Wu, who stood halfway down the staircase. She couldn't help it; she gaped. He started to descend slowly, his hand gliding down the rail. One of his eyebrows quirked. "If you know who they are, then you are like to understand that crowding them is like to make them uncomfortable." He landed at the bottom of the staircase as people started to back up and disperse. A tight, plastic smile appeared on his face. "Besides, the Grants need an awfully large space to operate."
The last person that Gwyn had wanted Alan to have a run in with was Henry Wu. The two men had butted heads, initially, at the original park; and the contention had continued to build over the years. When they'd discovered that he was one of the names advocating for a new Jurassic Park, Alan had had more than a few choice words to exchange with him. Emails, phone calls, letters. The whole shebang. But they'd not seen each other since that fateful morning, and the tension in Alan's body spoke to that plenty.
"Dr. Wu," he greeted flatly.
Wu, with that fake smile, stepped forward smoothly and proffered a hand, like they were old work colleagues. "It's been far too long, Dr. Grant. The last I heard from you was an email, and that was years ago."
Whatever email he was referring to, it likely wasn't friendly. Alan made no move to shake his hand, instead taking to staring the man down. Gwyn nudged Alan's leg with her knee, prompting him to take the hand; they had a crowd. They had an audience. They had to play amiably, a scene wouldn't do any of them any good. And some cynical part of her head said that Wu wanted them to make a scene, and she didn't want to satisfy that. With another subtle nudge, Alan cleared his throat. He dropped his arm from around Gwyn's shoulders and accepted the handshake.
"Been more than a little busy," Alan replied tersely.
"Digging around in the dirt, yes; I'm sure it's quite taxing."
Gwyn noticed Alan's fingers tighten around Wu's fingers constrictingly. It was an allusion jab he said regularly to annoy Gwyn. Wu was never shy about expressing how he thought that paleontology was a near archaic profession. They could do everything with technology and science now, there was no need to go digging up bones anymore. It was a jab that others had pushed on the Grants as the years went by. It was annoying, it was gross, it was frustrating. Gwyn stepped forward with a light clearing of her throat, trying to ignore all the eyes still on her.
"I was just about to come return my tablet, but thank you for saving us from the crowd," Gwyn said, voice professionally amiable. She held out the tablet expectantly. When he gripped the other side and tugged to take it, Gwyn did not relinquish her grip. She wanted to keep his attention. "I also wanted to set up a meeting with you. There are some issues that I wish to discuss."
"I'm sure that you are aware of how busy my schedule is, Miss Grant. I'm afraid I have no slots available until next week," Wu informed. He gave a subtle tug on the tablet, but Gwyn held firm.
Gwyn smiled saccharinely. "Next week suits me just fine. I'll email you tonight."
Wu returned the smile tightly and gave another tug on the tablet; Gwyn let go with a slight flourish of her fingers and allowed him to pull it from her grasp. Wu considered the piece of technology for a moment, his smile becoming lopsided. "Your father must be very proud of the work you're doing here. A bit different to what you usually do, but, arguably, more important."
The muscles in her back tensed suddenly and sharply. Every word that left Wu's mouth prodded and poked, seeking out every button to press. There was nothing that Gwyn wanted to do more than snap and rant at him, but was well aware how bad that would be for her. Because between herself and Wu, if one of them had to be fired for a public vocal altercation, it would be her. And with what they were doing in that lab, in that paddock, Gwyn could not leave; she needed to be present and ready to fight. So she bit her tongue and forced a tense smile.
"Now listen here––" Alan bit out, tone none too pleased. He stepped forward confrontationally, finger pointed sharply at the other man's chest. Gwyn immediately placed a hand on her father's chest, a halting gesture that he abided too with pursed lips.
"He's very proud, I assure you. Thank you again, Dr. Wu, but we have a dinner reservation to get to," Gwyn diffused, unable to keep her tone from being clipped.
"I'll let you two get to your dinner, then. I'll see you soon, Miss Grant."
Alan seethed for a quiet moment, eyes widening and darting between his daughter and the scientist. People started to shift away from the scene, either losing interest or sensing that it may escalate into something their children should not see. "Miss Grant? Miss Grant? It's Doctor Grant," ground out Alan. The tone of his voice demanded respect for his daughter, whom was blatantly slighted before his very eyes.
And all Wu did was smile in response. "Of course. A pleasure to see you again, Dr. Grant." He then turned his attention to Gwyn and inclined his head. "Dr. Grant."
Gwyn had to physically turn Alan around, hand wrapped firmly around his elbow. She started to drag him towards the entrance of the Innovation Center, the two of them quietly seething as they went. When they exited the building, Gwyn did not let go of Alan's arm till they were at the bottom of the steps. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting golden light across the park. It might have been beautiful if the Grants had been calm enough to notice it. People immediately stepped out of their way, eyeing the similar-expressioned duo. Their lips were pursed and their brows were furrowed in the exact same expression; there was no doubt to any passerby that they were related.
"How often does he do that?" Alan demanded when she released his arm. She started marching down Main Street, desperately trying to clear her head. Her fingers pressed into the back of her neck, short nails cutting into her skin. It stung against the slight burn it had garnered from the previous day's work. "Gwyn Fiona Grant, you tell me how often he does that."
A graceless snort rattled in Gwyn's nose. She sneered at the innumerable occasions Wu had snarked at her. "Do what? Call me 'Miss' instead of 'Doctor' or act like a raging asshole?" she deadpanned. Warmth snatched up her hand as Alan grabbed it, his fingers tight and arresting. Gwyn stopped walking and turned back to him. His expression was grim and shaded by the brim of his hat.
"How often does he disrespect you?"
"Pretty damn often, but I don't usually let him get away with it easily. I just… I can't afford a public spat, Claire would be up my ass before the first Facebook post about it. Probably be fired before the night was out, too…" Gwyn brought her hands up to her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms into them. When they dropped away, she tilted her head back and groaned quietly. "I hate him… so goddamn much."
Alan grumped a sound and shoved his hands in his pockets. "On that we're agreed. Now let's get off this damn theme park road; I need a drink."
OOOO
"You're what?" Alan stressed sharply.
He was gaping at his daughter from where he leaned against the deck railing, a beer bottle poised but forgotten between his fingers. Gwyn had spent the last half hour trying to carefully navigate a way to tell him how she worked with Wu. There was a lot of back pedalling, stumbling, and swearing involved on her part. And Alan had, surprisingly, remained silent as she tried to explain. When Gwyn finally got out the words 'I'm on a private project for a new exhibit,' she practically saw Alan's heart drop to his feet.
Gwyn sat forward in her lawn chair, threading her fingers through her hair. "This is so much harder to explain without disclosing specific information…" she muttered to herself.
"Then disclose the specific information."
"If I do, I get fired, and I cannot be fired." She looked up at Alan with a firm look. "Not with what's going on."
The air, cool and perfumed by jungle foliage, was suddenly very tense. Father and daughter stared each other down, one pleading, the other questioning. Alan pushed away from the railing and came to sit in the chair opposite Gwyn's. He set his beer aside and leaned forward, arms braced on his knees. His eyebrows rose pointedly, but gently.
"Tell me what's going on, Gwyn," Alan prompted. A frustrated groan rumbled in her chest, and she lifted her hands to cover her eyes. Gwyn could feel him using his fatherly tricks to get her to talk. The quiet, prompting voice, the pointed look. "I doubt that they've bugged your little house, you can tell me what's going on."
"Honestly, I wouldn't put the bugging past them. Trying to get any information out of anyone without the proper clearance is like pulling teeth. This is what I imagine working in the government is like…" Gwyn sat back heavily in her chair, patting her hands on the arms of it anxiously.
It was only a matter of time before information about the Indominus Project went live. Gwyn knew that Claire loved publicity, and the invention of a new dino would draw in innumerable visitors. They were going to advertise the shit out of their accomplishment and toast with champagne while they did it. There would be information available to the public, there had to be. So Gwyn couldn't find the harm––or decided not to find the harm––in explaining some things to her father.
"Alright… so… they're opening a new exhibit, if you wanna call it that. Putting a new dinosaur on display. It's no secret that they biologically engineer the animals here, but… I think they've gone far beyond too far," Gwyn started. But Alan snorted derisively at her comment. When she fixed him with a 'what the hell' kind of look, he splayed a hand through the air.
"They reopened the park, they're already gone too far," he deadpanned.
"I said far beyond too far, I'm well aware the 'too far' threshold has already been crossed," she grumped back. Alan held up his hands yieldingly and allowed her to continue. "Masrani wanted me to work on the project to monitor the dinosaur's behavior. I was informed that the base genome of their new toy was that of a t-rex; the rest is classified. They have been so proud that they can bring dinosaurs back to life that now they think they can play god. And that's dangerous, and I'm watching that danger grow every day. And I… can't tell anyone about it, and it's been tearing me apart."
It all came out in a spew, the speed of her speech increasing as relief started to flood her system with each word spoken. It felt like part of an immense weight had been lifted off her chest. Even talking about the most basic aspects of her situation was a welcomed relief. Gwyn didn't know if Alan was preparing to reply, but another flood of words spilled past her lips, halting anything he might have been about to say.
"And I have this awful sense of foreboding that things might be about to go downhill, but no one is listening to me… that's why I can't leave." Her voice started to shake and she could feel her eyes start to water. "Not because of Owen, o-or any of that bullshit… I can't leave because if I do, there's no one to keep them in check. No one to point out the warning signs; and even if they don't listen, even if things go wrong… I'll know that I tried. Because if I just sat by in my office in Montana, sending emails, I'd kick myself over and over again if shit went south here. Because I didn't do anything of consequence."
Again, everything was quiet. But the quiet wasn't tense. It wasn't filled by the indignant huffing that Gwyn thought her father might have started up with what she'd told him. Alan was perfectly quiet and staring down at his hands with a contemplative furrow between his brows. Sniffing heavily, Gwyn snatched his forgotten beer bottle and took a hearty swig from it. With a muttered apology, she set it at his feet and swore tiredly. It was then that Alan reached out to cup her hands between his. Gwyn looked up at him expectantly, but he didn't speak. Instead, he squeezed her hands and pursed his lips. It was a fond, thoughtful squeeze, one that proceeded what he said next.
"You've often heard me talk about my, uh… astronomer and astronaut theory," he said, voice low and quiet. "I've always applied it to people that we know, but I never applied it to you." Alan looked up at his daughter with a glassiness in his eyes, which sobered Gwyn up immediately. "Astronomers can observe the stars in complete safety. Astronauts seek out the stars so they can touch them, so to speak. For years it seemed like you were the astronomer, contented to safely conduct your studies where you knew you wouldn't be harmed… but now… now I see that's wrong. You're not the astronomer. And you're not the astronaut. You're both. You conduct your studies, but then you take that knowledge and you go out and you seek. You're seeking to prevent disaster. To protect others. That's why you're here. That's why you want to stay…"
The tears that slipped from the corners of Gwyn's eyes were not something that she could have stopped. Alan spoke with quiet but passionate emotion, not once breaking eye contact with his daughter, not once letting go of her hands. She smiled tearily and then hung her head when that expression started to crumple. The 'astronaut, astronomer' theory was something she had, indeed, heard time and time again. She'd heard it applied to students and colleagues alike––most notably Billy Brennan. It was a theory that Alan stoody by. It always had seemed so fantastical and other-worldly to her as a kid; but maybe that was just because the words 'astronomer' and 'astronaut' seemed so cosmically wonderful. But to have it applied to herself, to hear him give her the honor of being part of a new-found middle ground moved her to tears.
Alan released her hands, but only so he could wrap his daughter in his arms. Gwyn hugged him tightly, all at once feeling like she was eleven years old again. But, this time, she didn't resent that. She didn't hate it. She reveled in the feeling of being held in her father's arms. It felt safe and familiar and loving; it was everything that she needed after the day she'd had. And he was more than happy to provide that comfort, one hand placed fondly on the back of her head. The two rocked back and forth a little, the motion lulling and gentle in the soft glow of the porch lanterns.
"I was used to being the father of an astronomer. No one ever said that being the father of an astronaut was easy…" Alan pressed a kiss to the top of Gwyn's head. "But I'm damn proud to be the father of both, no matter how much it drives me mad with worry."
Afterword: Wow. So this chapter. Was a bitch to write. I outlined what I wanted to happen in every chapter leading up to the start of the movie, and this one seemed like it would be an easy one. It was not. And it decided it wanted to end here, and not where I was originally going to end it. So… next chapter may be a bit longer, but when's that ever been a bad thing? I'm officially free for the summer, so that means more time to write (hopefully). And I do plan on pumping out these next few chapters so we can get to the movie soon.
Review Replies!
ThatOneDino: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
UmiNight Angel Neko: The romantic subplot finally rears its head; it was supposed to REALLY make itself known this chapter, but it didn't happen. But next chapter it most certainly will. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
JosieoftheRose: These two dorks simply don't want to be the first one to admit it; they are… stubborn. But… one of them may pull their head out of their ass sooner than you think. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AugustRrush: Thank you so much; I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much as the last one!
NicoleR85: Protective!Alan is my second favorite Alan right next to just straight-up Dad!Alan. They go hand-in-hand, though, so it's always wonderful. The shovel talk was… so much fun to write. And there'll be more shovel-y kind of talks in the future. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
MsRosePetal: Sorry for being an awful updater, but this past semester truly kicked my ass into next year. But, regardless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
god of all: Thank you so much! I'm very happy that you've enjoyed the story so far. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
supboyyyyy93: Gwyn and Alan are so much alike that it usually takes an outside force (or a good long think) for either of them to see the other's opposing point of view in a neutral light. Alan's mini-approval is a good point for Owen; but he's still got a ways to go, Alan's not so easily giving of his trust, especially when it comes to his daughter. Original plan was actually for Lowery to try and diffuse the crowd coming at the Grants; but it ended up not working out well. But he will have his chance to meet Alan/it will be alluded to. It's a scene I really want to write, but it's tricky to find a spot to fit it into. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest 1: Thank you so much! The Owyn ship will sail sooner than one might think! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
Guest 2: Gwyn and Alan, for as good a relationship they have, definitely get into tiffs more often than not. They're so alike that it's bound to happen, and happen often, especially when they have opposing views on something. So I'm glad that you enjoyed getting a peak into that side of their relationship. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Angel JJK: Thank you; hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Matti: Slow burns are my way of writing things, usually; jumping in feet first from the get go just seems… weird to me. I like having a foundation from which to jump, first. And it just works with certain characters really well! When you pointed out the whole 'deadpan' thing, I, also, could not stop noticing it. So I'm trying to be better about it, 'cause that's always been my defining feature of Alan, and thus, Gwyn as well. Thank you for pointing it out! I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!
monkeybaby: Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
AmericanNidiot: If Gwyn wasn't present while meeting Hoskins or Wu, you best BELIEVE that Alan would throw hands. Both metaphorically and literally. Also, Barry and the paddock workers having a betting pool just seemed right––we'll see if Barry gets his money! Hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Ms. Sleepy Clover: I've got some shiz planned for the Indominous; can't wait to get to it! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
AnnaB: It was important to me that the events of JP and the atmosphere/proceeding events of JW were established before hand. The events of the film are so harrowing that the characters need a believable, strong basis to fall back on as they go through it. I'm very happy that you're enjoying the characterization and find that the canon characters are written believably to their canon characterizations. And I had briefly toyed with Alan being on the island during the film events… but in my (probably fruitless) hope that Alan (or maybe Tim, I'd love that to) might be in the next film, I decided against it. That, and I feel like if he had one more traumatic experience on Isla Nublar, he'd be pushed into a real bad place. I… simply cannot wait for Gwyn to interact with Zach and Grey. It's going to be so great on so many different levels. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
WittyCreek15: We have maybe four or so chapters (hopefully) till we hit movie events. There'll be a good ol' time skip in there, but it's necessary. I… have so much I could write, but I have to get to the movie some time soon! I'm glad Alan's been in character, I've worried some of his mannerisms have slipped through my grasp since I'm not simultaneously writing him in the prequel to this anymore. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
And there's that! Next one should be up soon, I've been on a writing kick recently. I'm also… really excited that if I keep on writing and posting consistently, I can finally enter the movie events. I love writing the build up, but I am SO ready to finally get into the meat of this story. Thank you all for being so patient! You all rock!
~Mary