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.
Foreword: This is chapter is a long boy. A lot happens. STRAP IN, BOYOS.
24. Having a Ball
Gwyn was starting to regret sending the hat home with Alan.
She had reapplied sunscreen to the back of her neck several times, but she could still feel the tell-tale tightness of a new sunburn forming. It likely didn't help that she was up on the catwalks of the raptor paddock all day, unshaded and at the sun's mercy. Gwyn had been helping out with general maintenance for the day, only stopping to take notes on the daily training maneuvers. It was a welcomed change and a good distraction from what had happened the day prior; even thinking about returning to the Indominus paddock simultaneously made Gwyn's stomach turn and her frustration flare. So hauling crates from delivery trucks and cleaning railings was a welcomed distraction. It was nice to joke around with Barry and Francis and feel like things were normal; or as normal as they had been or could be on an island populated with dinosaurs.
"Oh, no," drawled Barry. He hauled a bag of wood chips from off the bed of a truck, handing it over to Gwyn. She furrowed her brows had his exclamation of apparent dread, wrapping her arms around the thick, white plastic bag. Barry jerked his head just past the truck, the location of which was obscured from Gwyn's view. "I think that we're due for our monthly Hoskins Harassment."
A groan pulled past Gwyn's lips, head lolling backwards. Her eyes scrunched shut from behind her sunglasses. "He's not actually here is he? Please tell me you're joking."
With a cluck of his tongue, Barry shook his head and grabbed another bag of wood chips. The look he fixed her with said it all––Hoskins was there. Like despondent child, Gwyn groaned again and bounced on the balls of her feet. He was, genuinely, one of the last people that she wanted to see that day. But her reaction inspired laughter in Barry, who practically guffawed.
"We all know that what he has to say is bullshit, you just have to endure it for a little while."
"Yeah, but I'm not exactly in the mood to deal with––"
"Well if it ain't the good doctor herself!" proclaimed Hoskins, sauntering into view.
Gwyn fixed Barry with a deadpan expression. "That." All he did was beam at her apologetically and let her grab the second bag from his arms. Instead of acknowledging Hoskins, Gwyn turned to head for the observation cage. All the old wood chips had been swept out, and it was her task to set fresh stuff down. It was supposed to be a simple task––but that would no longer be applicable thanks to their visitor.
"What, no cheerful greeting? No feisty response?" Hoskins questioned, clearly trailing after her.
"Nope," Gwyn replied, tossing one bag down just inside the door. She started to throw fistfulls of woodchips on the ground, spreading it out with the toe of her boot.
"Well, if you're not gonna engage in pleasant conversation, maybe you'll give me another listen."
With a snort, Gwyn finally looked over at the man. Hoskins was leaned up against the open door arms crossed and lips pulled into a near perpetual smirk. "Not really interested in listening, either."
"I just wish that you would get on board with my point of view," Hoskins sighed.
"And why's that?" Gwyn threw down more wood chips and kicked it around. Her question was flat and dry, which made it clear she wasn't really interested. She glanced over her shoulder with a sarcastic raise of an eyebrow.
Hoskins' smirk grew into a smile. He pushed away from the door and sauntered into the cage, sweeping a foot out to distribute a clump of wood chips. "Because I think that you'd make an amazing handler."
The laugh that immediately bubbled from Gwyn's throat was high-pitched and disbelieving. She turned on her heel and took a moment to just gape at him. He raised his eyebrows in a manner both prompting and amused. With a slight narrowing of her eyes, Gwyn set the bag down to lean against her leg, and crossed her arms.
"Oh yeah? Let's just say that, hypothetically, your stupid plan is feesable. What makes you think that I'm qualified?" she asked, a false sense of interest playing in her tone.
"A little birdie tells me that one of these animals has taken a liking to you," Hoskins informed.
Gwyn's head reared back a little at his statement. Then her eyes fluttered. It struck her, then, that he meant Echo. Her little interaction with said velociraptor must have become the weekly gossip, and it must have spread fast. She snorted and shook her head, the bottom of her ponytail grazing the back of her neck.
"Just because Echo's tolerating my presence doesn't mean that, if your plan were workable, all the raptors would be the same. As should be evidenced that only one of the four raptors is remotely even interested in my presence here," she pointed out.
Hoskins nodded as though he understood her fear and started to approach her again. His hands found his way into his pockets, a gesture meant to look casual. But the tilt of his head was anything but. It was conspiratorial and self-assured.
"What we would do is have that little friend of yours convince the group of new raptors to follow you. Then we terminate the rogues, promote only loyal bloodlines," he stated simply. Like it was the easiest solution in the world.
There was a beat of incredulous silence before Gwyn started to laugh. It was a shrill, disbelieving sound, accompanied by a sharp raise of her eyebrows. "'Loyal bloodlines'? I've heard a lot of bullshit fall from your mouth, but that… that is up there on the list."
The distance between the two was suddenly very short. No more than two feet, but it was too close. Gwyn could feel her shoulders instinctively tense, squaring to make herself seem bigger, more intimidating. But Hoskins just smiled toothily, eyes glinting.
"It's not bullshit if it works."
The smugness of Hoskins' statement seemed to spark a reminder in Gwyn's head––she was done with people trying to keep her down or manipulate her to their liking. She was done with their bullshit. She was done with Hoskins' bullshit at the moment. So Gywn's hands found her hips and she raised her chin defiantly. There was a stubborn set to her jaw and her lips gnarled into a wry sneer that Alan would have been proud of.
"Let's see if I can water this down for you, 'cause clearly every other attempt I've made to get you to see reason has failed. Regardless of the evidence that I could––and have––given you, this is dumb. Your idea that any of these animals could be used on the field of war is dumb. A tiger trained in the circus is still a tiger; it isn't domesticated. It has instincts. It will kill its trainer if it feels like it. Dinosaurs are just like tigers. Except they've got thousands of years of instinct coursing through their systems, and there's no rerouting it. You try and master these things, you're gonna end up like a tiger tamer––missing a hand and begging for mercy," Gwyn ground out in frustration.
That was the first time that Gwyn had ever wiped the smile off Hoskins' face. He stared at her blankly for a moment before a twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his annoyance.
"You may know a lot, Dr. Grant, but you don't know a damn thing about war. You don't understand how these creatures could benefit our men and women overseas. How they could prevent hundreds of deaths. The things that I've seen, that Owen has seen… it can all be prevented, and these raptors are the key," Hoskins informed. He spoke in a low drawl, and he had leaned forward, invading Gwyn's personal bubble.
"I'd thank you kindly to back off," she informed tersely.
The insufferable smirk returned to Hoskins' face, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd like to see you make me, little lady."
The corner of Gwyn's nose twitched, and her molars ground together. Her fingers curled into fists and dropped to her sides––and she was ready to fight, be it verbally or throwing a palm across his smug face. But there was a skittering behind her, the sound of something approaching the gate to the paddock. There was a low tittering and a high-pitched hiss. Gwyn didn't turn around to see what was happening; but Hoskins saw. The smirk on his face broadened, the corner of his mouth curling smugly.
"I think you should take stock on the loyalty aspect of these animals; I think you've got a couple of fans."
"Please leave, I have work to do."
Hoskins raised his hands to portray innocence and backed off, his eyes focused on something just over her shoulder.
"I think maybe you should do some re-evaluation on the loyalty of these animals; break out your little… notepad and pencil." He wiggled his fingers at her as though trying to deduce where said notebook was kept on her person. "You've got something pretty interesting to look at."
Gwyn pressed her lips together and was quick to look over her shoulder. Stood almost nose-to-bar with the gate was Echo, facial muscles twitching, a low growl rumbling in her throat. Her claws were hooked over the bars and her nostrils were flaring. And stood just beside her––and a little further away––was Blue. Her head was cocked to the side, her teeth were bared, and her tail twitched in warning. Gwyn's tense expression melted and dripped into something softer, though significantly more confused. They were lingering at the gate like they thought Hoskins presented a threat, and presented one to her. They were hovering as though they were her back-up, in case she needed them to attack. And that threw her for one big loop.
Then, In typical Hoskins fashion, he grabbed the last word tightly and strangled it. "I'll leave you to your note taking."
Gwyn's head whipped back around to watch him leave, a smug air to the way he carried himself. She swore to god that, one day, she was gonna hit him. She really, really was. From behind her, there was the scrape of metal as something dragged across it. Upon turning back around, Gwyn noted that Echo had removed her claws from the bars and shuffled a step back. Blue seemed as though she could no longer be bothered and was turned away, nuzzling at the ground with her nose. When Echo seemed to realize that she might have Gwyn's attention, she made a gentle tittering sound bucked her head into the air. It was something she did when she wanted praise or when she waited for Owen to toss her a treat.
"Uh… thanks," Gwyn said lamely, sliding sweaty palms against the sides of her legs. She made a face at herself, like she had the first time she'd addressed the velociraptor in such a human manner. She then inclined her head gratefully, though her brows were furrowed, and cleared her throat. "Thank you, Echo."
Echo tittered again before she turned away from the gate, as though nothing happened, and trotted off to bother her sisters. But as she passed Blue, the beta lifted her head. She moved her head so she could stare directly at Gwyn. Her mouth was dropped open a little, viciously sharp teeth just barely visible. Gwyn stared right back, rooted to the spot. She'd been stared down by Blue before––numerous times––but something about this stare felt different. It wasn't threatening. It was… considering, almost. Gwyn nodded to her carefully, a silent, awkward thanks. After a moment of quiet staring, Blue made a sound and turned away, swishing her tail.
Finally completely alone, Gwyn dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Tension had coiled in her stomach, thanks to Hoskins, and all she wanted to do was scream into her hands. She wondered what it was about Isla Nublar that made people so goddamn stubborn; it was like there was something in the air that sapped the common sense out of people's brains. As Gwyn pondered the likelihood that there was something in the water that made people lose their minds, her hand drifted to her pocket. She removed her phone and pulled up her contact list. She scrolled through the list of names, pursing her lips. The names of the people saved on her phone would make a Jurassic Park enthusiast squeal with delight. Alan Grant, Ian Malcolm, Tim Murphy, Lex Murphy, Ellie Sattler, Billy Brennan. All people that she could call immediately, tell them what was going down, and have their unadulterated back-up on trying to shut it down. And, for a moment, she thought about it. Thought about closing the ranks to beat some sense into the higher-ups.
But with a grimace and a swear, Gwyn pocketed her phone again. That would have to be the last ditch effort. If she couldn't do this alone, she'd call in the troops. Because if there was one thing she was sure would do the trick, it was a bunch of angry Park survivors.
OOOO
A week passed without much incident. Gwyn had not be allowed back to the Indominus paddock, but, by the sounds of it, not many people were. It seemed that only 'essential staff' was being allowed into the area, and Gwyn had not been deemed as such. As traumatic as seeing Irene be devoured had been, it got under Gwyn's skin that she hadn't been allowed back. With such a dramatic turn of events, it seemed important––more than ever––for her to be there to observe the following behaviors. Be on the look-out for warning signs. It made her anxious, restless. And she'd said that, but had been reassured that once things 'calmed down,' she would be brought back in. Anytime she got an official update from the park higher-ups, she was terrified it would be an asset out of containment blip. It was usually something inconsequential like 'tree down on north service road, plan accordingly.'
With that passing week came a steady rise of apprehension and excitement––all tied to the gala. The apprehension bloomed because it was still a business function. It was what Owen said it was––a chance for the higher-ups to schmooze with other higher-ups and their employees alike. It was a game. Masrani would be there, she knew that; when he'd responded to her email, he said he thought it best if they spoke in person, 'at the gala, perhaps.' It was more than just a social function, now. More than just a date.
And the date aspect of the evening is where the excitement cropped up. Owen would bring it up casually as time wore on, dropping it into conversation, or asking if there was a specific color she was thinking of wearing. The comments were charmingly spoken, and often accompanied by a crooked grin. Each one made Gwyn smile a little wider, made her heartbeat a little faster in anticipation for the day. Which is what brought her to standing in front of her small bathroom mirror, putting in a pair of earrings. They were delicate and silver, and they formed the skeletal shape of a t-rex. Gwyn tended to only wear jewelry at galas and charity events and balls; and almost all of said jewelry had some dinosaur-esque accent. If it didn't, it was tastefully simple.
The earrings were the final touch to her outfit. Gwyn had only brought one special occasion dress, just in case something like this popped up. InGen seemed like the kind of company that would want to show off and flaunt their accomplishments. It was a long, olive drab colored dress, one that she'd worn to a handful of other similar events. The material was lightweight, which was good for crowded rooms––or hot weather. The halter-neck helped with the keeping-cool aspect, too, though it did showcase bad tan lines and her infamous scar. But it was a good dress, a beautiful one, and easily one of her go-tos.
With the earrings in, Gwyn grasped the edges of the sink and let out a steadying breath. The nervous butterfly-like feeling in her stomach was something she hadn't felt in a long while. Not since college. Not since Billy. Dating was something that Gwyn had done, but not something that she was particularly focused on doing. If a date or a relationship came along, that was perfectly fine by her; if it didn't pan out, her life wouldn't be ruined. Like her father, she was very much rooted in her work, something that he'd said he both admired and worried for. There had been parts of Alan's life where he said he wished he had slowed down on the work ends of thing––such as for parts of her early childhood. And he'd make it perfectly clear to Gwyn that he didn't want her to be old and grey, like him, and realize that there opportunities that he'd wanted to take and missed them because he believed that his work was his life.
Much to her father's relief, Gwyn did acknowledge that her work in the field, or her work at the museum, was not the be-all-end-all. She knew that, one day, she'd like to have a family, but was in no particular rush to find it by a certain age. It sometimes felt like people were thrown by the fact that she was in her early thirties, working, and unmarried. But Gwyn had learned that worrying about other people's opinions of her would do her no good. She was happy with her life and how she lived it; especially when it lead her to moments like this.
It was a fluttering kind of feeling that Gwyn felt in her stomach; it made her restless, but it wasn't exactly unpleasant. It made her double-check that her lipstick hadn't smeared, made her reach out to flip her phone over to see whether or not she'd missed a text. But it also made her giddily excited, perhaps the most excited she'd felt since setting foot on the island. Against all odds, something good was coming to fruition because of Isla Nublar. And that was a first. A very, very big first. And that first officially arrived with a wrapping on her bungalow door.
"Just a second!" Gwyn called out. She pried her fingers off the edge of the sink and threaded them through her hair one last time. It hung in humidity caused waves, tickling her bare shoulders with each move of her head. Officially satisfied that everything was suitable for the evening, Gwyn swept out of her bathroom and towards the door.
When Gwyn pulled the door open she was greeted by a very welcomed sight. Owen Grady stood out on her deck done up in a grey suit, bathed in the pastel lighting of the sunset. There was no tie knotted under the collar of his white button-up, but Owen had never struck her as a man who particularly liked ties. But the outfit didn't need it. From the lightly hatched pattern of his grey suit to the slightly dust covered dress shoes on his feet, he looked ready for a gala. And he looked good––he was already a handsome man, the sweat and the button downs didn't erase that. But the suit was a good look on him, undeniably so. So undeniably so that it wasn't fair to say that he looked 'good'––he looked amazing.
Gwyn grinned as she stepped through the door, briefly looking down to make sure her skirt didn't catch. When she looked back up, still beaming, she found Owen staring back at her. The stare wasn't dumbfounded, or gawping, but it was undeniably a stare. His brows had lifted gently and his eyes had widened a fraction; a faint part appeared between his lips. His hands, which had been at home in his pockets, were removed and slid over the front of his jacket.
"You look…" His eyes danced over her from head to toe. "You look…" This time, his eyebrows rose high towards his hairline, which made Gwyn mimic the gesture promptingly. "Great. You look really great," he finally settled on. Though, judging by the way the corner of his mouth twitched, he wasn't happy with his chosen adjective.
But Gwyn still smiled a little winder and pinched her skirt between her fingers. "Thank you. You don't clean up half bad, either."
A crooked smile curled across Owen's face, offsetting a roguish twinkle in his eyes. An equally crooked smile appeared on Gwyn's face, and it suited her well. For a blissfully long moment, the two just smiled at each other, enjoyed seeing each other this way. Not dressed fancily––but being there happy and for one another, eager to be in the other's presence. Gwyn didn't know about Owen, but the chliché fluttering in her stomach had intensified. It sent a faint flush to her cheeks and she felt like she wanted to giggle for no reason. Instead of giggling, she cleared her throat and gestured to Owen's outfit.
"You asked me what color my dress was; I don't see a spot of green," she teased good naturedly.
Owen chuckled and reached down to pinch the side of his left pant leg. He hiked it up a little to reveal his socks––military green. "Closest I could get." He offered a little shrug as he let his pant leg drop again. Gwyn beamed at him, that giggle finally coming to fruition.
"A very considerate prom date," she teased again, which sent Owen chuckling. It was that special chuckle in the back of his throat, one of the most genuine soundings laughs that she'd ever heard.
"Well, this very considerate prom date forgot a corsage, but would like to escort you to the jeep," Owen drawled. He turned and offered her arm in a very Austen-esque movement. He winked, the gesture crinkling the corner of his eye briefly. With him closer, now, it was apparent that he'd trimmed his beard; it was a little neater than it had been that morning. With a playfully uttered 'thank you,' Gwyn slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, happy to let him escort her down the steps of the deck. When they reached the bottom, Owen gestured to the tender tropical soil and then her shoes. "Careful. Don't want you turning an ankle."
The considerate comment did nothing to wipe the smile off of Gwyn's face. They walked slow so the heel of her silver-grey heels didn't sink into the ground. And when they got to the jeep, Owen opened the door for her and made sure that her skirt didn't catch in the door as he closed it. The vehicle was still running, which meant the interior was nicely cool. Gwyn watched as Owen strode past the front of the car, the headlights illuminating him as he walked. She thought she caught sight of a smile on his face, one that was quickly hidden by the swipe of his hand along his jaw. Gwyn turned to look out the passenger side window, bracing her elbow in the seam between window and door. She gently placed her curled knuckles over her lips and laughed quietly to herself. It was going to be a good evening.
OOOO
The lobby of the Innovation Center had never seemed so steeped in formality. And it seemed that all the stops had been pulled out for the evening. The holographic display had been turned off to leave proper schmoozing space, a length of tables with canapés and fruit arrangements occupied the far side of the room, and a lovely––though temporary––bar was situated just beside the staircase. A podium was situated at the far end of the room, where there would likely be speech after speech touting Jurassic World's great advances. People also lingered on the upper floors––which were essentially balconies––leaning against the railings with drinks in hand. Gentle music seemed to quietly lull from the speakers, creating an atmosphere of gentility. Everyone in attendance was dressed in their best––suits, dresses, jumpsuits––and created quite the formal display. It felt like all that was missing was a crystal chandelier.
"M'lady." Owen gestured Gwyn through the door with a smile quirking his lips. Gwyn rolled her eyes fondly and stepped through, pausing just inside just to wait for him. Once he was stood beside her again, she easily fit her hand back into the crook of his elbow. A smile peeled across Owen's face as he let his arm bend slightly so it was easier for her to hold on to.
"I feel like we're in a spy movie or something," Gwyn laughed. They started to wade into the crowd of people, moving at a leisurely pace as they went. Owen chuckled beside her, his eyes scanning the landscape of co-workers before them.
"Yeah, it certainly looks like one, doesn't it?" he agreed.. "Think that they're trying to poison everyone?"
Gwyn snorted and smiled. "I don't think this is Doctor No, so I think we're probably safe. Though I wouldn't put it past InGen to try and… thin the herd a little bit." Though the comment had initially started out playful, it had gone a little deadpan, the words drawled.
"A shining vision of the company that you work for," Owen poked fun.
Gwyn made a sound in the back of her throat. "I always forget I'm technically employed under them. I think that got to a lot of people more than the idea of my physically returning. Got a fat earful of it from Tim."
The memory wasn't a pleasant one. When word got to Tim through professional channels that she'd accepted a job at Jurassic World, he'd called her. Before she got a single word out, he was ranting in her ear. Angrily, fearfully, tearfully. He told her that he feared for her safety and her sanity, which was brought into question in a particularly heated moment. It was the first, and perhaps only, true argument the two had ever had. Ultimately, several days after the fact, he left a very down-trodden sounding voicemail apologizing for the panic-induced outburst, but stated––more coherently, that time around––that he was not pleased with her decision to return to Isla Nublar.
"Well, I'm sure if anyone from InGen tries to talk to you, you'll charm the pants right off them," Owen assured. "You sure charmed mine off when we met." He winked at her and she arched an eyebrow.
"I'm sure that anyone from InGen who sees this," she gestured to the scar on her chest, "will turn and run in the opposite direction. I think the last name 'Grant' sends most of them scurrying."
Owen's arm shifted, which allowed her hand to slip out of the crook of his elbow. His hand, however, appeared at the small of her back, his touch gentle. "Well, I'm gonna scurry off to go grab us some champagne; wait here a moment," he told her. His hand slipped away as he disappeared into the crowd.
Gwyn watched him shift his way towards the temporary bar for a moment, the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of her mouth. She then turned her attention to the swarm of people in the lobby. Half the faces that she laid eyes on, Gwyn did not recognize. It was true the number of park staff that she was acquainted with wasn't substantial––there were hundreds of employees––but she knew a good handful of the handlers. Some of the lab staff, too, though not as well. But most of the faces in the room must have belonged to investors and higher-ups whose names she'd only ever seen on emails. The landscape of people was daunting. It felt like a networking challenge. It felt more dangerous than any other gala or fundraiser that Gwyn had been to; because it felt like half the people in the room would either hate her, or shoot her down.
"Dr. Grant," greeted a familiar voice. Gwyn turned to find Wu approaching, smoothly gliding between other gala-goers. He was wearing a sharp grey suit, not unlike what he wore on a day-to-day basis; there was a smile on his face and two glasses of champagne in his hands.
"Dr. Wu," she replied.
It was then that Wu offered her one of the glasses of champagne. There was a sort of expectancy in the gesture, like he planned on having her take it for one reason or another. It was a strangely civil gesture. Gwyn hadn't experienced true civility with Wu since, perhaps, the day that they'd met. She eyed the glass of bubbly, gold liquid before she slowly reached out to accept it. In response, Wu raised his glass in a cheersing motion, waiting for her to mimic it before they both took sips.
"This is quite an impressive display," Gwyn commented, allowing her eyes to dance across the room again.
"Display?" inquired Wu.
Gwyn hummed and continued to let her eyes roam. "Isn't that what all galas are? Displays of… wealth, success, brilliant achievements, self-perceived greatness," she listed off casually.
"And what are we displaying tonight?"
"I haven't decided." Gwyn let her eyes return to Wu, finishing her comment with a sip of champagne.
It was clear in the deadpan of her tone that she had decided on the last trait on her list. Wu simply smiled tightly in return, sipping at his own glass of champagne. He then tilted his head just-so, and tucked his hand into his trouser pocket.
"Have you enjoyed you time off?" he inquired lightly. It seemed an innocent enough question, especially to any passer-by. But it struck Gwyn a little harder than a casual talking point. There was heavier stuff behind her 'time off' than just being gifted a couple of rest days. Gwyn cleared her throat and shook her head, earrings swinging wildly from her earlobes.
"No, actually. I've found that the longer I'm away from the project the more anxious I become," she replied, a shocking amount of honesty behind the comment.
Wu shifted on his feet a little, brows rising. "Oh?"
"Recent developments have not been… reassuring, as I'm sure you can imagine." One of Wu's eyebrows dropped while the other remained raised inquisitively. Gwyn felt her own furrow and her lips turn down at the corners. "The loss of one of the assets has concerned me, as I'm sure it must concern you," she elaborated.
"The loss of one of the assets is something that we planned for; surely you remember there were two incase one did not survive infancy?" Gwyn gaped at him, at the verbal shrug his words had provided. "The convenience of having two assets to observe was lovely. But losing one was not a tragedy. It was unfortunate, it was something that we knew might happen."
If there was something more than gaping that Gwyn could do, she would have done it. The words that had struck her, that rang in her ears deafeningly, were 'not a tragedy.' Irene's death had not been a tragedy. It was something that, surprisingly, shocked her; she would have assumed that the frankensaurs were like children to Wu, things of his own design. That he would have been at least mildly bothered by the situation, let alone its circumstances.
"You… do realize that Irene didn't die from disease or weakness, right?"
"Irene?"
"Her sister killed her and ate her because you refused them the ability to follow their basic hunting instincts," Gwyn pointed out, incredulity dripping in her voice.
"You've named them," Wu laughed, an amused smile drawing across his face.
"You should be concerned that Ingrid's first instinct upon realizing there wasn't enough food was to kill and eat her sister."
"Dear god, you've formed a bond with them." He laughed again, this time gesturing to her with his champagne glass, pointer finger uncurling to point at her. "The high and mighty Dr. Gwyn Grant has bonded with the 'monsters' she so vehemently detested."
Gwyn's teeth ground together and her nostrils flared. Across from her Wu murmured 'this is rich' before taking a nice swig from his glass. She tore her eyes, suddenly stinging heatedly, and looked anywhere else at anything or anyone else. She ended up eyeing an ice sculpture immaculately carved into the shape of a roaring t-rex. There was a pull in her gut at Wu's comment––that she'd somehow bonded with Ingrid and Irene. Because maybe she had, in some strange way, through the glass. But a bond did not mean love. It did not mean positive affirmation. Gwyn had been one of the only people allowed to closely observe the Indominus Rexes; of course there was some kind of bond there, even if it felt like there shouldn't be.
"Yeah, well, maybe if you visited your darling frankensaurs a little more often you'd realize that there's a shit ton of issues that need addressing. Ones that I have tried time after time to get you to listen to. The feeding routine. The lack of socialization. The fact that the paddock is too goddamn small now, because Ingrid has far outgrown your projected growth pattern. All of these things lent a hand in losing one of your assets. What you need to realize, Dr. Wu, is that we need to work together, professionally, otherwise I will guarantee that everyone and every dinosaur on this island will suffer," Gwyn informed tersely. For the emotions that had been building up behind it all––the Ingrid issue, her general work relationship with Wu––she'd been remarkably calm about it. Outwardly, at least. Inside, she felt like a molotov cocktail with a match lingering nearby. That unsteadiness left her feeling oddly bold.
Wu laughed again, but this time, it was disbelieving. He took a step forward, shortening the distance between them in an almost threatening manner. Like Hoskins had done. But this time, Gwyn did not back away when her personal bubble was invaded and popped. Instead, she stood her ground, which felt nice and solid beneath her heeled feet.
"What you need to realize, Dr. Grant, is that your word is not gospel. Just because you tripped your way through the jungle for a night all those years ago, just because you've got that scar on your chest does not mean you're the be-all-end-all of dinosaur knowledge. It doesn't mean that you know what's best for this park. You dig up bones for a living, dabble in the world of animal behaviorism, and turn out an academic paper once every couple of years. And for some reason, people eat that up. They revere you like you're the highest authority in the field. I work in a lab, doing real science; you spend your days ankle-deep in dust and dirt. You––and your father––are outdated, just as old as the bones you're digging up. You're an old breed, you're going extinct. The day that I take your word for gospel is the day I resign," Wu informed tersely.
The air between them was thick. It was heavy with contention. Gwyn's lips had progressively drifted downwards before it settled in a distasteful grimace. She nodded a couple of times, silently, eyebrows twitching upwards. A couple of people around them had started to glance their way, murmuring to each other at the progressively heated words being exchanged between the two.
"I wasn't asking you to take my word for gospel, Dr. Wu. I was asking you to cooperate with me as a professional," she deadpanned. She took a large swig of champagne, downing half the of the flute.
"Perhaps we will when you start to act like a professional," he shot back, smiling at her tightly.
Gwyn blinked at him, almost in disbelief, and then scoffed. She then leaned in a few inches and crossed an arm over her ribcage. She swept a hand through the air with an air of finality, the champagne in her glass sloshing. "Don't go blaming me when your monster tries to destroy the world."
It was then that Owen made a convenient reappearance. He was holding two flutes of champagne in either hand, and his expression was pinched warily. He came to a stop beside Gwyn and let his eyes dance between the two scientists. "Everything alright over here?"
"Peachy," Gwyn stated before throwing back the rest of the champagne in the glass Wu had given her. She held the now empty vessel out to him with the same expectancy he'd given it to her with. He took the glass and inclined his head.
"Dr. Grant."
"Dr. Wu."
And with that, he left.
Gwyn swept one of the glasses from Owen's hand and let out a sigh.
"Do I wanna know?" Owen asked.
She swept her free hand through the air before it found a comfortable place on her hip. With Wu's disappearance, she felt tension release from her shoulders, which she hadn't even realized had gone stiff. "Just a disagreement, like always."
"Ah," was all Owen said. "You two disagree a lot."
Gwyn hummed as she took another sip from her champagne flute. A confirmation. Then she pulled the glass away, now smudged red with her lipstick and made a face. "You were right about these flutes. They're too damn small."
The crinkled confusion over Wu and Gwyn's contention with each other was wiped off Owen's face. He snorted, lips having curled into a smirk, and brought his attention to the glass in his hand. "The two drink rule is still in place, so I think you're cut off after this one. Make it last."
Owen held out his glass to her, a silent toasting gesture. Gwyn, smiling gently, swept her glass towards his and let the edges tap together. They each took a moderated sip, barely draining the glass of any liquid.
"So," Gwyn exhaled, "is there gonna be dancing or something at this thing?"
"There's not usually, no, unless someone tries to bust a move to impress someone," Owen chuckled.
With an appreciative grunt, Gwyn let her head fall back a little. "Oh, thank god."
"What, you don't dance?" Owen asked. Gwyn balked at him, then laughed, and shook her head in a quickly refusing manner. He blinked at her in disbelief and turned to face her a little better. "Everyone dances."
The paleontologist huffed a snort and shook her head again. "Not me. Not unless we're celebrating at a dig, and even then you've gotta get a couple drinks in me. And I'll tell you that this," she raised the small champagne flute, "won't get me to dance."
A sly smile started to pull across Owen's face and he nodded slowly. He quirked his brows and cocked his head to the side. "We'll see. We'll see."
Gwyn rolled her eyes, but couldn't fight off the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. It was then that she caught sight of Lowery on the other side of the room. He was wearing a navy blue suit that, though not typical of his usual attire, looked very nice on him. When they met eyes, Lowery beamed at her before his eyes jumped to Owen. His eyes then widened and jumped back to Gwyn. He held up both his hands in a not-so-subtle double thumbs-up motion that Gwyn had to grin at. Before Gwyn could suggest they make their way towards him, someone else appeared in front of them. It was Simon Masrani, beaming at them brightly. "What good fortune to run into both!" he enthused. He was dressed absolutely to the nines, in a blue-grey suit that almost seemed chromatic. He extended a hand in their general direction, allowing them to decide who shook first. After a shared glance, Gwyn accepted the handshake first. Masrani clasped his free hand over hers warmly, welcomingly.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Masrani," she greeted with a kind smile. Masrani, exuding all the charisma and charm he had months prior, inclined his head humbly. He then raised his brows and released her hand, gesturing to her with a sweep of his own.
"A pleasure to see you as well; and you look absolutely lovely."
"Thank you."
Owen stepped forward and offered his hand, switching the champagne flute to the opposite hand. "Mr. Masrani," he greeted familiarly.
Masrani positively beamed, accepting the offer vigorously. It had always been clear that the two men had a good work relationship; there was a clear mutual respect, and a genuine happiness to see the other whenever they were in the same place. "Mr. Grady. How wonderful to see you again." His eyes then flit back towards Gwyn as the handshake broke. He gestured between them with a flick of his finger, a sly smile, and a knowing glance. "And it is even more wonderful to see you two together."
Owen cleared his throat, but smiled nonetheless, darting his eyes towards Gwyn. She snaked a hand out to briefly squeeze his fingers, the corner of her mouth lifting into a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Masrani," he replied.
Masrani again inclined his head and then turned his attention to the rest of the room. He let out a contented sigh and gestured to everything––the people, the building, the atmosphere. There was a gleam in his eye, a proud one, that Gwyn had seen once many years ago. It was the same gleam that sparkled in John Hammond's eyes as he welcomed them to Jurassic Park, as they beheld living dinosaurs for the first time. In that flash of a moment, Gwyn could see why it was Hammond had entrusted this man with his life's work. They both had the same passion, the same enthusiasm; Simon Masrani was impeccably proud of what it was he had built.
"It is a wonderful evening, is it not? A fitting celebration of such a wondrous place. A place that you both have aided in making better," Masrani turned his attention back to them, still smiling broadly. "I have heard nothing but good things about your collaborative work. I receive progress reports weekly, and I am very happy with what I am seeing. Your notes are impeccable, Dr. Grant, they allow me to see the progress Mr. Grady is making without being there. And, Mr. Grady, the bond that you have formed with your 'Girls' astounds me. I am constantly reassured that I chose the right man for the job."
The flattery was given genuinely. And Gwyn was glad that there was at least one person––other than Owen––who found the work that she did helpful.
"Thank you, Mr. Masrani." She then shifted a little on her feet and pursed her lips together curiously. "You said you've been able to read my notes. Have you given any thought to the concerns I've voiced in them?"
Masrani looked taken aback by the question, blinking in mild confusion. "Concerns?"
"Yes, I voiced a number of concerns regarding the, uh… assets you asked me to monitor. I made sure they were in the notes that I handed in to Dr. Wu at the end of each day," Gwyn elaborated. When, again, Masrani did not seem to recall the mentioned concerns, she cocked her head to the side. She glanced over at Owen, who, despite not knowing much about the situation, looked just as concerned as she felt. "They… weren't in my notes?"
"No, I'm afraid not… were these concerns what you wished to discuss with me?" he asked.
"Yes, they are."
After a quiet moment of thought––and what appeared to be a searching gaze swept across the room––Masrani started to nod. He pointed to her with a lightly wagging finger. "I want you to send me a list of your concerns in a private email; it seems there has been some interference in our communications. Don't you worry, Dr. Grant. I will see these concerns addressed," he promised. "Now, if you'll excuse me… there's someone I must find."
"Well you've got friends in high places," teased Owen as he turned to watch Masrani slip into the crowd with a determined stride.
"Friend or not, at least someone's gonna listen for once," she deadpanned. She brought the glass of champagne to her lips and sighed into it.
"I didn't think you were gonna go the professional route to sort this all out. Thought you might go rogue or something," Owen chuckled, eyes crinkling roguishly.
Gwyn hummed and shot him a wry look that, behind the façade, was deadly serious. "That's Plan B."
OOOO
The rest of the night passed without incident. Owen and Gwyn did all that they could to avoid Hoskins, who had been bobbing around making boisterous comments. When the speeches began, the two had retreated to the top of the staircase, where they seated themselves on the floor like little kids. Gwyn had hiked her skirt up to her knees to sit more comfortably, letting her legs kick out to rest against the top few steps. The two were mostly alone on the upper floor, which gave them some semblance of privacy for the first time that evening. It felt nice to escape the propriety of it all; not having to plaster some kind of mostly-fake smile as a big-wig investor commented how 'delightful' it was to have a Grant working at Jurassic World.
"I never really liked fundraisers. Or things like this." Gwyn gestured out to the crowd of people below them. "It's always kinda felt like you're selling yourself; or maybe that's just me. Probably is… museum functions are usually a grab for money to keep funding expeditions, new exhibits, renovations. Can't tell you how many times I've been told I was the linchpin in snagging more funding. Wasn't really me… just my name."
Beside her Owen hummed thoughtfully, turning to look at her. He was closest to the curved railing, his body blocking some of the view. He narrowed his eyes at her in a manner one might consider appraising. The gaze that he fixed her with swept from head to toe and back again, which left her arching an eyebrow in question.
"Y'know, if I were an investor, I don't think your name would do it for me," he told her in a decided tone.
Gwyn arched her other eyebrow and tried to fight off a playful smile. "Oh, really?"
"Mm-hm. It would be your charming personality. The passion you have for what you do, y'know? Anyone who talks to you can see just how much you love your work, and how much it means to you. If that doesn't grab someone's attention, I don't know what will. Your name's just a bonus. And…" Owen crooked a finger at her, trying to get her to lean in. She did, closing the distance between them a couple inches. He crooked his finger a second time, urging her to lean a little closer. With a quiet laugh, Gwyn did, practically leaning into his side. "It would be a shame not to support such a beautiful woman." It was said quietly, like a secret. The mirthful smile on Gwyn's face faded into something gentler, and she leaned back a bit. Owen was smiling at her, just as soft as his voice had been. "You look beautiful tonight. I couldn't say it earlier––was too stunned."
The blush that rushed across Gwyn's cheeks wasn't something that she could hide. Not this time. She couldn't hope it would be passed off as being flushed from the sun or the cold rush of air conditioning. It was blatantly apparent that Owen had caused it, and it made him smile just a little wider.
"Yeah, well, uh…" Gwyn looked down at her feet, a hand snaking its way up to the back of her neck. She looked back up, smiling crookedly. "You look pretty damn beautiful too."
Owen beamed at her. Then, after a moment, he reached up and gently took hold of her hand, the one that had migrated to the back of her neck. The one that he now knew anxiously pushed at her skin whenever she felt nervous or anxious or unsure. Owen softly pulled her hand away and just held it, running his thumb across her knuckles. Gwyn, still leaned against him a little, smiled down at their hands, at the quiet moment. There was a wave of applause as the last speaker––Masrani––finished and the schmoozing began again.
There was a sudden shock of movement as Owen rose to his feet, still grasping Gwyn's hand.
"C'mon, up," he urged.
Gwyn blinked up at him, confused, and immediately darted her eyes to the mingling group of executives. "Please tell me we're not going back down there."
"Nah, we're staying up here. Just need you to get up."
After carefully rising to her feet and climbing the rest of the stairs, skirt clenched in her hand, Gwyn allowed Owen to drag her to a more secluded part of the balcony, which hung high over the entrance to the Innovation Center. No one seemed intent on climbing the stairs again, which made it seem like they had the space all to themselves. When Owen finally released her hand and started to search around in his pocket for something, Gwyn fixed him with a look.
"What are we doing?" she asked, voice laced with laughter.
Owen fiddled with his phone for a moment, tapping and scrolling till he muttered a quiet 'ah-hah!' He beamed as he tapped one last time, and slid his thumb across the screen. The sound of music started to flood from the speakers of his phone. It was up-beat and catchy. With a grin, he put his phone back into his suit pocket, bottom up so the music wouldn't get muffled by fabric. He grinned at her and started to bob his head along with the music; he held out his hands invitingly.
"We're gonna dance."
Gwyn shot him a look and started to laugh, though the smile did not leave her face. She held up a hand in a 'stop' motion and started to shake her head. "Absolutely not."
"C'mon everyone dances!" he reiterated his statement from downstairs.
"Yeah, and I already told you––I'm not so sure about that," she deadpanned.
"How can you resist dancing to Jay and the Americans? Huh?" Owen started to bob his head a little more obviously to the music, swaying on his feet and twisting a little. Gwyn watched with an ever-growing smile. He held out his hands to her suddenly, gesturing her towards him with a waggle of his fingers. "Come a little bit closer, you're my kind of man!"
"Oh, so I'm a man?" Gwyn teased, folding her arms over her chest playfully. Owen glared at her in a 'shut up, go with it,' kind of way.
"So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I'm all alone, and the night is so long!" Owen sang like he did when he made dinner at their respective bungalows. It was breathy and not-quite serious, enthusiastic and theatrical. It made Gwyn feel warm and comfortable, like they were back on one of their decks, watching the sun disappear behind Mt. Sibo. It was enough, in that moment, for Gwyn to sigh in resignation and stretch out her hands to accept the invitation to dance.
Owen's face split into the largest grin possible, and he lurched forward to grab her hands. She squealed a little as he pulled her closer, giggling as she basically crashed into his chest. Very tentatively, Gwyn started to move her shoulders and her head to the song, but it was very obvious she was still holding back. That was Owen started to use her hands to puppet her into dancing a little more. He would alternate pulling on either of her hands so her shoulders moved more drastically, which caused her to laugh. He twirled her around few times earning a giggled, half-hearted 'Owen, stop,' from Gwyn. By the time the end of the song approached, Gwyn was dancing a little more loosely, but was still clearly too self-conscious to let go anymore. But she was grinning and laughing, and leaning against Owen's chest, arms draped over his shoulders as the last 'come a little bit closer' was sung under his breath.
When the song was over, Owen beamed down at her, his hands resting on her hips. "See? I knew you could dance," he teased. Gwyn's hands slipped around to rest on his shoulders, and she shot him a look.
"You did most of the work," she pointed out with a smile.
"Yeah, but you still danced. You had me worried you didn't have rhythm, I don't think I could date anyone that didn't have good rhythm."
Gwyn rolled her eyes but smiled up at him, contently still leaned against him. He was smiling back down at her, that warm, genuine smile that had captured her attention so many months ago. She placed a gentle hand on Owen's right cheek, whilst simultaneously leaning upwards and forwards. Her lips pressed a delicate kiss to his opposite cheek, the intimate touch lingering longer than need be. Being so close, she could smell what remained of his cologne and the slight tang of perspiration that came with living on the island. It was an intoxicating smell.
Gwyn felt her breath catch when Owen slid a hand to rest on her lower back, prompting her to stay close with just a single, simple touch. The hand that had been placed on his cheek gracefully glided down the length of his neck to settle where it met his shoulder. Struck with a feeling of boldness, Gwyn tilted and ducked her head a little in order to press a second kiss just beside the corner of Owen's mouth. She relished in the way his breath hitched and how the fingers at her hip tightened their grip.
When Gwyn pulled away, there were two slight smears of red against his skin. With a breathy laugh, she took her thumb and rubbed the residue of lipstick away. When her eyes danced back up to meet his, the fondness in them nearly floored her. Owen craned his head forward just slightly, pressing a kiss against her forehead. When Gwyn dropped her head against his shoulder, his fell to rest against hers, the gesture loving, almost. The two just stood there for a while, like the rest of the gala wasn't happening; like they weren't on an island that was damn well near cursed. For a moment, that seemed to stretch on forever, they just enjoyed having the other there.
Afterword; I wanted to get this up last week, but I went to Arizona to visit family. And I will tell you that every excursion into the desert we made, I couldn't help but think about Jurassic Park and this story. Hence why it's the first story I'm updating now that I'm back. It gave me some trouble, because it twisted away from my original intent for the chapter, but I'm quite happy with it.
Review Replies!
MsRosePetal: Last chapter was definitely a set up for some future things; we're gonna jump into the events of JW after next chapter, so Ingrid eating Irene really was an integral part for last chapter. I hope that you enjoyed the new installment; thanks again!
NicoleR85: Owen's been a good rock for Gwyn to have; and vice-versa, which we will see later on. And Gwyn's got plans… that contact list that she has… it's dangerous. And it can do a lot. And it seems like the professional route isn't gonna work out too well for her this time. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
glagla60800: Thank you! I had a lot of fun writing last chapter, and stuff is only gonna get more insane from here on out! Movie events start chapter after next, so shit's relaly gonna go down. Hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AugustRrush: Thank you so much; hope you enjoyed the new one!
WriterGirl1198: I would've loved a flash-back clip, in the film, to the Indominus killing her sister. Just 'cause I feel like it would have added to the terror of what that thing can, would, and will do. I had some morbid amount of fun figuring out how awful it would have been to witness. And Owen and Gwyn finally getting out there on a date––ugh, finally. I love those two nerds. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Angel JJK: Seeing Ingrid killing Irene is definitely a turning point for Claire. Because you can see, in the movie, that just mentioning the event clearly distresses her. I think that it's the event that sort of catches for her. What makes her such an interesting character to me. She's so clearly the epitome of professional, and she loves her job––but this shakes her. It seems to put doubt in her, worry. But a kind of doubt and worry that she shoves aside because everything has to work because they've designed it to work. I'm having a lot of fun delving into her character a little more. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
katy1986: Gwyn seeing Ingrid kill Irene is definitely a breaking point. It's started to show in this chapter, but next chapter, things really start to kick off. Watching Ingrid kill her sister is, like you said, watching history come back to life. It's sparked a fear in Gwyn that is only gonna keep eating away at her. I've had Owen asking Gwyn out planned for ages, and I'm so happy that you enjoyed it! I hope you liked the new chapter; thanks again!
GoldenGod48: Thank you so much! I'm glad that you've enjoyed my writing! And don't worry about asking! I've been itching to get to the movie events, too. Chapter after next is when the JW events start. We've got one more full chapter pre-movie and then we'll jump into the movie events the chapter after that, with a bit of lead-in. I'm… indescribably excited to be at this point in the story now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest: Poor Irene didn't deserve to go that way, but, alas… An awful way to go, and Gwyn knows that. And is horrified. I love writing Alan and Gwyn together, so writing their goodbye was bittersweet (even if it's only for a little bit). And writing any sort of intimate moment between Gwyn and Owen is just… ugh, those two dorks are just lovely. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
daydreamer1119: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
WaywardandWanderlust: It took me so long to write the Ingrid vs. Irene moment because I wanted it to be suitably horrible and terrifying. Because we didn't see it in the movie, I wanted to make sure that it was horrifying enough to spur Gwyn into what she's gonna end up doing shortly. And I'm so happy that Gwyn and Owen's relationship doesn't seem forced! It's always my goal to make sure relationships (of any kind [platonic, familial, romantic]) progress naturally. Otherwise it just sort of… take you out of the story. Doesn't seem real. I'm flattered you consider this one of your favorite JP fics! Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as the last!
Raider-K: I had hoped we might get a little flashback to the Indominus killing her sister in Fallen Kingdom, but, alas. So I worked hard on figuring out how it might have happened and just how… awful it would be to witness. In the film, when Claire talks about the Indominus eating her sister, she seemed so shaken that I just assumed she must have been there to witness it. So I took context clues and ran with it. Ingrid looking at Gwyn is a good thing to note, and it's suitably horrifying; and probably one of the things that had her the most shaken. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Chest Fiend: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
AmericanNidiot: Shit really is kicking up. Wu's walking the thinnest of tightropes and that shit's about to snap underneath him. Owen and Gwyn are gettin' all cutesy (be still my heart!). Grants are truly the last people you want to mess with, and the entire island is gonna find that out. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
CJ/OddBall: Gwyn and Alan's reunion is gonna be nice and tear-jerking. I've got a plan and I… get sad thinking about it, 'cause it's gonna be so emotional. If you're thinking about Endgame as a reference for the emotional level that shit's gonna be, you are correct. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Makokam: Every time I pictured the Indominus killing her sister, I always saw it at feeding time. Because they allude to a lot of stuff that they mentioned in Jurassic Park––such as not feeding it live prey made them bored. Dinosaurs want to hunt, and Ingrid saw her sister as the only thing to hunt. Because she was bored, because she was the stronger one. Because––as we see later on––she doesn't always kill 'cause she's hungry. She kills for sport. (And now this is gonna go into the longer review you left on the previous chapter) I think that, with the right precautions and measures, Jurassic World would be viable, though the ever-present possibility of a potential disaster is still concerning. And it was, ultimately, Nedry's fault for the fall of Jurassic Park––but the thing is, Gwyn doesn't know that. I don't think anyone who wasn't in on Nedry's plan knew that he was really the reason for the park's downfall. And I think that even if Gwyn did know that aspect of the story, she'd still place blame on the science of it all; that if there were no reanimated dinosaurs in the first place, there wouldn't have been anyone who wanted to steal them.
And I'll fully headcanon (within my own story) that Gwyn's definitely sent Alan pictures of dinosaurs she knows he likes, like the triceratops and the brachiosauruses. I just don't think that, in the grand scheme of things, Alan would have been quite up to being so close to the dinosaurs again. And I also completely agree that them not recognizing their feelings being the only obstacle is a great plot point. A lot of that stuff I wrote while I was in a bit of a block for this story and I haven't really gone back and edited that stuff much. But I do plan on discussing, later, Gwyn's feelings and views on how her professional life and personal life often blur and overlap. How sometimes her job is more important to her than anything else, and a relationship can't jeopardize that.
And Owen and Gwyn will have some serious talks about their relationship as it starts to progress; and they'll also get into some fights about it, too. I do plan on having Lex back in the picture at some point. I love her character and wish there was more of her; same goes for Tim. The Murphy's are just… so lovely. (And there was, initially, a brief thought for a love triangle that I just didn't think fit the story well. Will say that, as I wrote this story, there were definitely thoughts of Lowery having been into her, initially. I have AUs where Gwyn would have dated different people, ask me about them sometime, they're all very interesting and too thought out). Thank you for your lovely reviews (all of them, on each chapter, they brightened my day)! I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter!
And thank you to those that added this story to their follows/favorites and took the time to just read; it means a lot to me!
I'm in a JP/JW mood since visiting AZ, so I'll probably have the next chapter up soon. As I mentioned in a few reviews we've got one more full chapter of pre-movie stuff and then we'll officially enter the realm of the movie… which I am both excited and terrified for, because it's been a long time coming, and y'all are probably expecting a lot. I hope what I've got planned will be good.
I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
~Mary