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.

25. An Island that Tempts Fate

Two days after the gala, Gwyn found herself seated in Wu's office. His chair was empty, as was the teapot that was usually full. It was quiet. It was strikingly unsettling. Usually when she showed up to meet with Wu, he was already waiting for her, hands clasped meticulously on his glass desktop. It was strange to be there first. To be the one waiting, when he was the one who asked her to be there. The email that he'd sent had revealed very little, just that they needed to meet as soon as possible. Gwyn presumed that––because she was asked to fetch her tablet from the lab––she would be told her position at the Indominus paddock was going to change again. That her duties would change again and that she'd be dictated notes on what she needed to do. It had started an irritated itch in her veins.

When Wu finally did arrive, he said nothing in the way of greeting. All he did was take a seat across from her and fold his hands over the desktop. Gwyn arched an eyebrow and drummed her fingers on the screen of her tablet. "Never knew you to be late to anything," she commented in a drawl.

"I had some business to attend to," was his reply, short and to the point. Gwyn nodded her head and pursed her lips; so that was how this morning was going to go.

"Well, you've got business to attend to here, too. Why'd we need to meet so early?" she inquired, head cocking to the side. Wu took in a deep inhale through his nose and met her eyes evenly.

"Your services are no longer needed on the Indominus project," Wu informed stiffly, his expression impassive and eyes sharp. Gwyn felt a sharp pull in her chest, his words hitting her surprisingly hard. Her mouth popped open to object, but he cut her off with wicked quickness. "I'll be needing your project tablet." He extended a steady, expectant hand.

Gwyn pressed the tablet closer to her thigh protectively, angling her body slightly away slightly in the chair. "Why am I being removed?" she asked.

"Your lab privileges will be revoked––"

"Why am I being removed?" Gwyn reiterated firmly. She met his gaze unflinchingly and grit her teeth. Wu stared right back, his expression unchanging and revealing absolutely nothing.

"You will not be granted access to the paddock––"

"There must be a reason––a professional reason. Unless you're being an arrogant prick and you're kicking me off for your own selfish reasons."

Wu smiled falsely. "We have predicted the growth rate of the Indominus till adulthood and we are now familiar with its behaviors––"

"Which could change with age!" Gwyn exclaimed, lurching forward in her seat. She gaped at him in disbelief and her heart thundered in her chest. It felt like someone had just thrown a brick at her chest. Being told she was going to be removed from the project terrified her. Without her there, no one could monitor what she was looking for. No one would see the warning signs because they didn't want to see them.

"––and we are confident we can handle any behavioral changes that may occur. Your contributions were… invaluable, Dr. Grant. But it's time for you to leave. Time to return to your weekly research, raptor monitoring, and daily flirtations with Mr. Grady."

Ignoring his final jab, Gwyn continued; she leaned forward till she could brace an elbow atop the glass desk. She jabbed a finger at him and shot him a stern look.

"If you remove me from this project, disaster could ensue!" she warned.

"You're very high and mighty," he drawled dully. His expression was unmoved and unamused.

Gwyn threw herself back in her seat and threw both her hands in the air. She grasped for any idea that might keep her on the project. Anything at all. And the first thing that came to mind she blurted out, her tone decidedly more desperate than it was before.

"Keep me on as a–a… a trainer! I'll monitor Ingrid, stay out of your way, give you reports. A consultant at least!" she pleaded. Actually pleaded. Gwyn Grant had actually reduced herself to pleading with Dr. Henry Wu. Pleaded to stay on a project that terrified her.

"Your eagerness is admirable, but not needed. We can monitor the asset perfectly well ourselves. Your tablet, please."

The room was quiet for a moment.

Gwyn and Wu stared at each other as a tension started to build between them. In previous arguments with each other, it always felt like they remained fairly evenly matched. If one of them got a step up, the other one was quick to rise to it. And that would repeat till they stomped away on even ground. But this time, it felt like Wu was at the top of a staircase that Gwyn was struggling to climb. It felt like he was peering down at her like she was eleven years old again, and that there was colorful cake frosting on his shoe. Gwyn felt small and increasingly powerless. It left her floundering for words and sent her breathing into an uneven pattern.

"You… of all people… know that the Indominus is highly intelligent. That it's dangerous. You don't have staff trained to pick up on warning signs. They don't have a full grasp on what damage it can cause if those signs go unnoticed and unaddressed. You have to listen to me, Dr. Wu. Please. I have to stay on this project," Gwyn said in as even a tone as she could manage. She held Wu's gaze like it was the only piece of driftwood in a stormy ocean. Like, if she stared hard enough, conveyed her emotions well enough, he would understand.

But Wu simply tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows.

"And because you miraculously survived the disaster of Jurassic Park twenty-something years ago you're the authority on this? That you… can prevent disaster like some messiah––"

"I'm not saying that, I'm––"

"But you are. You have been. Every time the smallest issue pops up, you're on my back about how you're the only one who knows how to keep everyone safe. And I refuse to allow you to talk down to me; I will not be belittled by a little girl," Wu stated, words becoming progressively more venomous as his expression began to crinkle and scrunch.

The desperateness that Gwyn had felt moments before was slowly overtaken by a simmering anger. The words 'little girl' had hit her square in the face like a slap, cut through her chest like a dagger swipe. In that moment she did feel like her eleven year-old self again, staring up angrily at the pompous man who sneered back at her. Gwyn sat up straighter and grit her teeth so hard her jaw started to hurt.

"Then how about I, Dr. Gwyn Grant, call Dr. Tim Murphy so you can be belittled by a little boy?" she asked, tone deceptively light.

Wu chuckled lightly and shook his head. "What could he do?"

"He's Hammond's grandson, that sure as hell counts as something."

Wu leaned forward and raised his eyebrows patronizingly. "You can't threaten me into keeping you on this project. Tim Murphy can do just as much as you can in this situation. The world is progressing and it's leaving you behind. Be thankful you had a chance to be part of it. Now. Your tablet––please."

It felt like the entire world was starting to crumble beneath her feet. That the footing that she'd thought she'd finally found on Isla Nublar was cracking and falling away. Maybe she'd been too hopeful that everything could work out. That history could mend itself instead of repeat itself. Anger and frustration––towards Wu and herself––burned hotly in the pit of her stomach. Gwyn rose to her feet and slapped the tablet down carelessly. The teapot rattled and Wu flinched at the impact. Gwyn shot him a fake smile that faded quickly. If it cracked, it cracked, she'd pay the damn repair fees.

"Hope this office will be a nice spot to watch the world burn," she grumbled. Gwyn marched towards the door, hands hanging at fists at her sides. Her nails dug into the palm of her hand, leaving red crescents behind.

"Remember the contract that you signed––you still can't speak about the project to anyone," Wu reminded her from his desk.

"Great." With that, Gwyn threw the door to his office open, the handle of it smashing into the wall of windows behind it. The sound startled the lab workers behind it, who all jumped and stared at Gwyn as she left.

The look on Gwyn's face was something to behold. Her brows were severely furrowed, her lips were snarling, and her jaw was tense. It was enough to send people careening out of her path. No one wanted to mess with her, whether they knew her or not. It left her a clear path to the door, and right onto Main Street. It was already disgustingly hot and humid, which did nothing to lighten Gwyn's suddenly detestable mood. Just as she started to approach Starbucks, a familiar voice called out to her.

"How'd it go?" Owen asked, rising from an outdoor table. "I grabbed you a coffee while I was––hey, is everything alright?" Gwyn slammed down into the seat across from him and buried her face in her hands. "Gwyn? What happened?"

With a mighty groan, Gwyn threw her hands out and tossed herself back against the chair. "He's so infuriating!"

Owen blinked at her from across the table, putting together a couple of pieces. "Dr. Wu?"

Gwyn gestured at him with a wildly frustrated hand gesture. "Yes! He took me off the project!" she exclaimed, voice carrying well over the morning chatter of park patrons. A couple people shot looks as they passed by, ushering their children further away from the clearly upset woman. When she caught the eyes of one concerned mother, Gwyn just raised a hand in tense greeting and dismissal. The woman and her son quickly hurried by. The paleontologist groaned and reached out for the coffee Owen had bought for her.

Owen's eyes narrowed against the sunlight, his nose crinkling as his lips twisted a little. He opened his mouth, about to say something, before clearly reconsidering what he was going to say. He then leaned forward on the table, bracing his elbows against it.

"Why does he bother you so much?" Owen inquired with curiosity and confusion.

"Wu?" she asked, setting the coffee down.

"Yeah."

"Well, for starters, he's a pompous asshole. He simply refuses to call me Dr. Grant––it's always 'Miss Grant.' A-and I don't care that he's not calling me 'doctor' for vanity. I could give less of a shit about that. I care because it's demeaning." Her brows shot up as though to signal what she was about to say was very poignant. "He's demeaned me ever since we met! I-it's like he exists to torture me!" she very nearly cried.

Owen was considering her with an appraising gaze. A different kind of appraisal than the joking he'd given her at the gala. This one was real. He was trying to figure something out through just looking at her, like the expression on Gwyn's face would reveal what he was really looking for.

"You've mentioned the demeaning thing before… but the, uh… the 'ever since you met' comment… didn't you meet him when you were, what, eleven?" When she nodded vigorously, Owen, pursed his lips. "And you two butted heads because…?"

"He thought I was a useless, reckless child that needed constant supervision."

A breath hissed in between Owen's teeth as he cast his gaze elsewhere. Gwyn watched intently as his expression shifted a little. When he looked back over at her, he shrugged a little. "That's… not a lot to base a life-long grudge on," he said a little sheepishly. Gwyn's expression started to morph into something incredulous. "It's kinda… I dunno…"

"Childish?" Gwyn asked in a dangerous, Grant deadpan. Her fingers tightened around the coffee cup, the cardboard sleeve shifting a little under her grasp. Across from her, Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat and shrugged again. He cleared his throat and nodded once.

"Kinda, yeah."

Gwyn reared back a little and started to shake her head. She lifted a finger like she was saying 'hold up' and then let it fall to the table. "It's not childish," she laughed dangerously.

"It's a hateful grudge based solely on a–a handful of comments you both made twenty years ago. And it's not just you, it's him, he's holding a grudge against someone he met when they were eleven." Owen swept a placating hand through the air and then held it aloft. "Look, I'm not denying the guy is an asshole, I just… I don't get it," he admitted.

Gwyn's eyelids fluttered and she huffed a breath as all coherent thought fled her mind. She dropped her head into her hands for a long, quiet moment, fingers snaking into her yet-to-be tied hair. After a moment, Gwyn lifted her head again, her eyes intent on Owen. For the first time ever she fixed him with the burning look that had made others cower before her. Before her father. It was piercing and unyielding. It was startling, and that visibly registered on Owen's face. She leaned against and over the table and started to speak lowly.

"It's not just because he thought I was an incompetent child. He's… endlessly treated me like shit. He denies that I'm a professional, he and demeans my line of work whenever he gets the chance. He insults my father like it's some kind of game! Wu tries to scare me into thinking that I'm not wanted or needed by telling me my work is obsolete. I don't hold a grudge against him solely because he pissed me off as a kid. I hold a grudge because he actively tries to make me feel worthless," Gwyn hissed.

The two stared at each other for a long, silent moment. It was unlike other staring matches they had––it wasn't like the evening he'd picked her up for the gala. It wasn't like the gaze they'd held the night before when Gwyn was getting ready to go home. It wasn't sweet or gentle or intimate. It was burning and frustrated and confused. It was nothing like any exchange they'd had in the previous two days. Any passerby might have thought that they weren't friends from the way Gwyn was looking at him, and the way Owen gaped back. In fact, the few patrons that had been sitting outside with them were silent and casting them side glances, morbidly curious about their spat.

Gwyn threw herself back in her seat, scowling as her eyes swept over the increasingly busy Main Street. A puff of wry laughter left her mouth and a hand rose to press against her lips. Everything felt so suddenly grey. Like the life and the good things Gwyn had found on the island had been sapped away. Everything was fading from vivid tropical colors to nightmarish shades of black and white and grey. Everything was cast back in the shadow of her nightmares, the enigma the island had presented so many years ago. "Maybe it was a mistake," she muttered to herself.

"What was a mistake?" Owen asked, having caught ear of her muttering.

"I dunno––all of it. Accepting the job, coming back to the island, being here…" Before she could stop herself, Gwyn fluttered a hand back and forth, gesturing between them. "Whatever's going on here." That hand returned to press against her mouth, eyes dutifully cast over Main Street.

For a moment, everything was quiet between them. Then there was the creak of metal as Owen sat forward in his chair and leaned over the table. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Gwyn groaned and shoved her chair backwards. The metal legs grated against the pavement noisily. "I dunno! Maybe if I hadn't been so… distracted with whatever was happening between us I could've… shit, I dunno…" Gwyn grasped at any possible excuse, any explanation, and that was the one she grabbed. Because it was the easiest, not because it was necessarily true. Because it's the excuse her father had used years ago when he'd been seeing Ellie. Because it was an excuse she'd used before, when work was the only thing she ever really focused on.

From across the table there was an airy scoff, a disbelieving laugh. "What's happening between us, 'whatever's going on here,' has nothing to do with you getting pulled from that damn project," he laughed dangerously.

Gwyn rose to her feet and let her expression go dangerously neutral. "I'm gonna take the day off. Need to think about why the hell I came back to this damn island… this cursed park…" she grumbled.

"Gwyn––"

"Just…" Gwyn held up a hand, which then tensed into a fist and fell to her side. "Don't."

With that, Gwyn marched away from the table, melting easily into the crowd on Main Street. She swore and cursed at herself under her breath, hands in fists at her side. The corners of her eyes prickled with frustrated tears. And, just like when she was leaving the Innovation Center, people moved out of her way as she walked. But for whatever reason, this time it made the stinging in her eyes worse. Because for the first time in months, Gwyn felt truly alone on Isla Nublar.

OOOO

There was nothing Gwyn wanted more than to go home. She wanted to wake up, go to work at the museum, watch the Montana sunset, and then go to sleep in her own goddamn bed. It was all so much less complicated. And it worked. Everything about her life prior to coming to Isla Nublar for the second time had been fine, but she'd decided to up root all of that because she thought she had something to prove to herself and to her father––and maybe the world. But it was starting to seem that all she had proved was this: she'd proved to herself that she still saw herself as a frightened eleven year-old that lashes out when scared. That her father was almost always right. That the world is screwed up. And now Gwyn was tired.

To top off what was starting to seem like one of the worst days she'd had since re-arriving on Isla Nublar, Jurassic World had officially announced their Indominus Rex attraction. The website had put up an artists' rendering on the website of what the paddock would look like, which Gwyn had scoffed at. It looked much larger than what it was now. A banner proclaimed the attraction would be open at the start of the summer. Beneath that banner were a few paragraphs spewing exciting facts about the new hybrid, an attempt to entice people into buying tickets for the summer. Gwyn expected she'd be getting a phone call from Alan by nightfall, proclaiming 'this was what you were working on!?'

He'd probably tell her go hop on the next flight home.

She'd probably agree.

Gwyn sat scowling at the Indominus Rex announcement, which she'd pulled up on her phone. With a couple aggressive clicks and swipes, she banished the page and dropped the phone on the loveseat beside her. Both her hands rose to cover her eyes, her fingertips pressed into her forehead. Earlier it felt like the ground she'd found footing on had started to crumble away. It felt to Gwyn, now, that she had limited operating space. Like she was stood atop a crumbling pillar miles from any steady ground. It was frustrating. It felt limiting. It made Gwyn shift around uncomfortably, restlessly, because she didn't know what to do. Because maybe there really wasn't anything she could do; maybe what everyone had said to her prior to her employment on the island was right. Maybe it was a dumb idea.

When the words of those reprimanding her came back in a flood, Gwyn perked up a little. Her hands dropped away from her face, one falling to rest beside her phone. Her fingers slowly crept towards it, her eyes cast slyly downwards. After tapping in her passcode, Gwyn raised her phone and tapped into her contacts list. After a few quick scrolls, she came to a stop under 'M.' Her eyes lingered on a particular name, her lips pursing in thought. It would be a gamble to make a call. There was no guarantee that they could help. No guarantee that they would want to help. But if she didn't try––didn't ask––she'd never know; and she would just sit on her loveseat feeling sorry for herself.

With a few taps, the call was made.

OOOO

With the exception of waking up to an announcement from Jurassic World about its new attraction plastered across every possible website, Tim Murphy was having a pretty good day. Work was light, which was always nice because it meant he was able to take a long lunch. In his lap was a small, rectangular plastic dish, inside of which was the leftovers of some lasagna from the night before. Tim had his feet kicked up on the edge of his desk, the pant legs of his trousers having ridden up to display colorful, socks. They were navy blue with teal brachiosauruses printed across them; their faces were kinda cartoonish, but he liked them. It made them look kind. There was something about kitsch-y dinosaur stuff that he just loved. Some people quietly suspected that it made the dinosaurs look innocent, and thus softened the blow of nightmarish memories. But Tim didn't superimpose the image of a t-rex shaped salt shaker into the memories of rain thrashed cars and deafening roars.

He just liked dinosaurs.

He always had, and he always would, Isla Nublar and Jurassic Park be damned.

Tim speared a corner of his lasagna with his fork and wiggled it, effectively separating it from the rest of the square. Just as he fit the bite into his mouth, his phone started to ring. Tim made a sound as he retracted his feet from the desk and set his lunch aside. If it was his work phone ringing, he'd let it go because he was on break. But it was his cell phone that was chiming out, a personal call. A furrow formed between Tim's brows as he scanned his desk for the phone; he made a sound around his fork as he started to lift papers in search of it. Once it was discovered––hidden underneath some photographs of a funded dig site in Montana––Tim pulled the fork from his mouth and answered the call.

"Hello?" he asked, works vaguely muffled around his bite of lasagna. He covered the bottom half as he swallowed the pasta, an attempt to avoid subjecting whoever was on the other end from gross chewing sounds.

"Hi, Tim," greeted the person on the other end.

It was an easily recognizable voice. It was one that he'd known since he was a little boy, one that he'd heard dozens of times over the phone, one that he always counted himself lucky to hear in person. He'd heard it deadpan and gush and laugh and cry. It was Gwyn Grant.

An elated thrill ran through Tim's system, his brows jumping up enthusiastically. "Oh, hi!" He was grinning like she was about to walk through his office door. "It's you!"

If there was one thing everyone could admire about Tim, it was his enthusiasm. It had been a little dampened by the events of Jurassic Park, but it had returned with a force. Gwyn and Tim––and Lex––had kept in touch after the disaster. They'd exchange phone calls––and eventually emails and texts––and even had the good fortune to see each other on a handful of occasions. When they were college aged, Tim and Gwyn had been in prolonged contact thanks to their shared studies in the same field. They chatted about papers and exams, and had late-night talks about how, sometimes, the lectures they sat through brought back some disturbing memories. As they got older, they'd met in more professional circumstances––fundraisers, conferences––but their meetings were often required to be fleeting and often years apart.

"Who did you think it would be?" Gwyn laughed on the other end.

"I dunno; didn't look at the caller ID, I'm on lunch break," he admitted. The lasagna he'd been eating was long forgotten in favor of talking to an old friend. An old friend whom he hadn't spoken to for well over six months.

"Sorry that I caught you at such a weird time," she apologized, a wince audible in her tone.

Time puffed out a dismissive breath and waved a hand through the air, as though Gwyn could see it. He leaned back in his chair and started to aimlessly swivel it from side-to-side. "Don't sweat it. I got a long lunch today. It's good to hear from you."

"It's good to hear from you, too. It's been too long."

Their last phone call hadn't been particularly amiable, and Tim wasn't proud of that. When he'd found out through the grapevine that Gwyn had accepted a position at Jurassic World, he'd flipped out. The first thing he did in a panic-induced haze was pick up a phone and all her. Before she had the chance to breathe into the receiver, he had been ranting. Blinded by fear for the safety of a friend, he said things that he later regretted. Tim had all but called her crazy, said she'd ruin her career by going. And despite apologizing the next day, that regret and guilt kept lingering. That guilt kept him from calling, for fear that Gwyn would still be upset with him. But she didn't sound incensed––he thought that he might've heard a smile in her voice.

"I, uh… get worried sometimes, y'know, with you being where you are…" There was a heavy pause there, but it was quickly interrupted by Tim clearing his throat. "But, uh, I get reassured anytime your name pops up on BuzzFeed or something. It's really kinda strange to see the name of a friend on a BuzzFeed article; did you know they did some sorta post called 'Where are the Jurassic Park Survivors Now?' Kinda freaky, if I'm being honest." He'd had a penchant for rambling when he was young––it hadn't worn off. "Oh! I read something about that talk you gave a couple months ago; may I just say that you tearing that man apart was a-ma-zing," Tim stressed.

It was the first news Tim had heard out of Jurassic World about Gwyn. She'd made a smashing start of her career on the island by talking down some asshole who had challenged her credentials. Once he'd read the article twice over––with a grin on his face––Tim had sent it to Lex to share in his unadulterated amusement.

Gwyn laughed the sound bright but a little tired. "Yeah, that seems to be the general consensus from everyone but my superiors." She had spoken in such a perfect deadpan, one that brought back flashes of Alan's long-suffering face as Tim trailed after him with boyish excitement. He chuckled under his breath at the memories.

"I can imagine they must love you over there," he teased. "Do they monitor everything you do? Make sure you aren't trying to take the place down from the inside?"

The comment was joking and well-meant; but there was a kind of heaviness behind it. One that pertained to the fact that InGen keeping extensive tabs on Gwyn was not unrealistic. That it was, in fact, probably quite possible that every move she made was marked down and put in some file that got increasingly fatter. Gwyn hummed on the other end of the line.

"Probably. I hope they've enjoyed seeing how many times I order burgers and beer from Margaritaville."

Another snort of laughter came from Tim's mouth. A brief swath of silence ensued, eventually broken by the clearing of his throat. "How are, uh… how're you doing?" He scratched the back of his head.

"How's… the… island?" Truth be told, Tim didn't want to know much about how the island was doing; the press photographs were enough. The nightmares were enough. "The, uh, work?" That could be more interesting, though Tim was unsure what she was actually doing on the island. He'd heard rumor of some bullshit title––something like 'consulting paleontologist,' which seemed dumb and unspecific. "I, uh, don't really know what to ask about. My initial thought would be that the place is just pure nightmare fuel," he laughed breathily, a smile briefly pulling across his face before it disappeared completely.

"Honestly?" There was a pause, there, one where a tired sigh was heaved. "I've had a real shit day and I'm about to start tearing Main Street down with my bare hands," she admitted. Where Tim had thought her laughter sounded tired before, now she sounded exhausted. Like she'd just run a marathon and was taxed with the idea of running another one in the morning. "Did you, uh… see the news off the island this morning?"

Tim stopped swiveling around in his chair. His eyes caught on his laptop, which sat shut in the middle of his desk. It was the first thing that he'd seen that morning; it was a trending news story, plastered absolutely everywhere. Facebook, morning news, a billboard that had gone up overnight. When Jurassic World announced something, they did it noisily. That noise was always quick to spread and infect and find its way back into Tim's life. It was always completely unwelcomed.

"Uh, yeah, yeah I think so. They've got some… weird dinosaur attraction that's gonna open this summer right?" he asked, though he already knew. The words were burned into his memory: Jurassic World introduces the Indominus Rex! It was a stupid name. It wasn't a real dinosaur; not even a new discovery. Tim would know––he checked.

"Yeah."

"What's that about? The 'Indominus' isn't a real genus of dinosaur, so far as I know. Unless someone's made a huge discovery on Isla Nublar and hasn't informed any of the institutions, I'm calling bullshit on that," Tim drawled. He started to swivel from side-to-side again, unable to keep still.

"You'd be right to call it bullshit…" Gwyn grumped on the other end. "It's InGen's newest pride and joy––step aside stegosauruses, the Indominus is taking the stage…" Another staticky pause buzzed in Tim's ear. It was then joined by a shaky exhale of breath, which caused his brows to pinch together. "I'm scared, Timmy."

Gwyn's voice was small, in that moment. It was quiet and very nearly broken, spoken with an amount of vulnerability that had made itself scarce post-incident. The nickname caused his heart to throb in worry. It wasn't something people called him much anymore, unless it was to tease him; but Gwyn wasn't teasing. She was, as she said, scared.

"What's going on, Gwynny?" he asked, equally as quiet.

The nick-names were spoken reflexively, though they sounded a little funny coming from their adult mouths with their adult voices. They seemed much better suited for their younger voices, higher and more innocent. They weren't things that they said to each other anymore, but there was some kind of distant comfort in them. Gwyn made a muffled sound on her end of the line, an almost embarrassed kind of groan.

"Oh, god, 'Gwynny'; that's not very cute," she laughed, which earned a chuckle from Tim. Another pause. "InGen's set their own boundaries, ones that we haven't been able to push back. I'm worried that they've seriously overstepped this time; and that they don't realize it. The Indominus, it… it's a science experiment, if you couldn't already guess. It scares me. Like, a lot."

Science experiment. Those two words made Tim's heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

"H-how do you mean 'science experiment?' More science experiment-y than all the other dinosaurs they've spliced together?" he asked, unable to help the way his voice had started to pitch upwards.

There was a frustrated grunt from Gwyn's end, and what sounded like floorboards creaking underfoot. She was pacing anxiously. "Something like that, yeah," she drawled, dissatisfaction in her voice. "Let's just say that InGen's gotten too big for it's already tiny set of britches. They've over-stepped a boundary so far out of their league and they don't even realize it."

Survivors of Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna feared one thing the most––a repeat incident, whether they were involved or not. History had an unfortunate habit of repeating itself, and those islands seemed to tempt history more so than anywhere else. When Tim had stepped off Isla Nublar some twenty or so years ago, he had thought that would be the end of it. Flash forward a couple of years, the San Diego Incident occurred. Then everything on Isla Sorna happened. Then Jurassic World opened its doors. The islands were cursed to repeat its mistakes, like it tempted humanity to do stupid things. Everything about the Indominus Rex was painted in red, blaring with alarm, and screamed the warning: history wants to repeat.

"Well, shit…" Tim muttered, the words muffled by a hand. He couldn't sit still anymore. He was up on his feet, pacing around the room in indistinct, uneven patterns. Around the desk, back around the same way, to the door, to the window, back around the desk, to the bookshelf. His hands were starting to tremble with anxiety.

"I, uh… can I ask a favor of you?" she asked tentatively.

Tim froze, half-way to the bookshelf, which he blinked at upon hearing the question. "What is it?"

"Could you get in touch with Masrani? Set up a meeting."

Tim felt like something hadn't quite computed correctly in his head. Gwyn wanted him to set up a meeting with Simon Masrani. The man who his grandfather had entrusted the fate of Isla Nublar and Jurassic Park to. The man who turned it into a goddamn theme park. Tim pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head, which was starting to ache.

"I, uh… I don't understand, Gwyn, what are you asking me to do, exactly? Set up a meeting… for you? Do you want me to have a meeting with him? I don't… I-I'm not grasping what you're saying," he stuttered out on an exhale.

"No one here listens to me long enough for me to ask for a meeting; and if I do, the likelihood it gets cancelled day-of is pretty high. They don't take me seriously. They think I-I'm a silly little girl who likes to play in the dirt. They've told me as much… but… they'll listen to you. You're Hammond's grandson," Gwyn pointed out.

There was a photograph on Tim's bookshelf that his eyes immediately shot to. It was of himself, young and floppy haired, and Lex, grinning in the embrace of their grandfather. John Hammond. A joyful visionary who was so much more than the creator of Jurassic Park. He was a loving grandfather with the largest heart. Tim had heard the words 'you're Hammond's grandson' dozens upon dozens of times; and not always in the kindest of ways. Sometimes it was accusatory, a way to blame his grandfather for the death and destruction the islands had caused. Sometimes it was awe filled or sympathetic. Sometimes it was guilt trip. Sometimes it was questioning, someone wondering why it was he didn't support Jurassic World and the last wishes of his grandfather. Those three words always meant much more.s

Tim laughed uncertainly, eyes torn away from the photograph. "I, uh… I dunno, Gwyn. No one in my family owns the park anymore; my grandfather entrusted it to Masrani and his multi-million dollar corporation. I don't think that they'd bend over backwards to honor a request I make."

"Simon Masrani loves this park. He loves everything that your grandfather did and stood for. If you ask to meet with him… I think he might say yes." Gwyn was trying to bolster him, to boost him up. She had a vision of the world that he wasn't so sure was true. The park had been long out of the hands of the Murphys and the Hammonds. They hadn't touched it with a ten foot pole for years. They're mark on it seemed distant and distorted, twisted to benefit the current park establishment.

"So you want me to meet with him to, what? Express your concerns?" he inquired, confusion still rampant in his voice.

"No, I want you to get a foot in the door for us."

"Us," Tim reiterated simply. Then he furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. "Us?"

"You. Me. My dad, Ellie––anyone who's experienced the horrors of what this island can become," Gwyn said firmly. "I don't want to campaign to shut the park down; we all damn well know they're not gonna close shop because a couple of us are pissed off. If that was the case, Jurassic World never would have opened in the first place. I want them to come to realize what the long-term effects of their actions could be. What'll happen if they don't pay close enough attention and just go around tooting their own horns. I'm not doing this because they won't just listen to me… but because they won't, and haven't, listened to any of us."

Tim was quiet for a good, long moment. His eyes drifted back to the photograph on the bookshelf. Life after the Jurassic Park Incident hadn't been easy. There were days when the tyrannosaurus-rex skeleton in the museum he worked at would give him the shivers. Thunderstorms sent him into cold sweats and prevented him from sleeping. He avoided the 'true to life' models of the velociraptors as much as possible. There days where his anxiety was through the roof and he felt like he might throw up. And the scars on his hands from the electric fence––there was simply no looking at those without taking a walk down memory lane.

Those were feelings that Tim didn't wish upon anyone; and yet so many people dealt with it because of Jurassic Park, because of what had happened. His sister dealt with it. Gwyn dealt with it. And that was why they'd protested so hard against the re-opening of Jurassic Park as Jurassic World. Because there were statistics of the likelihood the disaster would happen again, and they were scary. But the executives had sent them emails and letters and free park passes, assuring the traumatized survivors that it would never happen again. Trying to buy their silence. And the silence they'd wanted, they'd gotten––but not because of bribery, but because everyone who protested and campaigned against them was tired. Tired of not being heard. Tired of not being listened to.

"You want to do this together," Tim said.

"Yes," Gwyn confirmed on an exhale.

Tim let his eyes fall shut and swallowed thickly, a lump having formed in his throat. "This is really serious, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "It is."

"Hm… well… maybe speaking out separately, from different angles was where we got it wrong the first time," he mused, almost to himself. He mulled the idea over in his head again. He started to pace the length of his office, though this time the action was slow and thoughtful. "A bunch of us together, united in one room… might just stun them into silence long enough for us to get a word in edgewise."

"Are… will you do it?" Gwyn asked. There was a hopefulness in her tone. But then she stuttered out a sound like she was backing up. "If you're really not comfortable with this, Tim, then don't do it. I can always just… Indiana Jones my way into someone's office and yell at them till they buckle in and listen."

Tim chuckled and didn't fight the smile off his face. "As amusing as it would be to read an article about you going all Temple of Doom on some poor executive… I'll let you save that tactic for some other day." The amusement in his voice faded out, then, as he got serious once more. "I trust you, Gwyn; if you think this is a serious cause for concern, I believe you. I'll do it. Can't guarantee anyone will reply, or that it'll work, but I'll send an email. Express my concerns for the vision of the park." Tim pressed his lips into a thin line, which then twisted down in distaste. "How it seems to be steering away from my grandfather's vision. The place has turned into a theme park. And statistics show that when theme parks get lazy, people get hurt. My grandfather never wanted anyone to get hurt."

A relieved laugh of delight was breathed from Gwyn's end of the line. "Thank you, Tim, you're a godsend!"

"Don't thank me yet!" he warned.

"I'll still thank you for this even if Masrani brushes you off with a free weekend pass. This means a lot, Tim, thank you. After the day I've had… it's good to talk to a friend," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice, which prompted one of his own to emerge.

"It's good to hear from a friend again." There was a silence, this one fond, before Tim hummed in a jokingly thoughtful manner. "Hey, don't I still owe you for saving my life?"

"Oh, god, not this again," Gwyn laughed, mood seeming to have lifted. Tim had made a habit of pretending he had a life-debt to Gwyn for saving his life that day on Isla Nublar. He'd brought it up once when he insisted he buy her an ice cream while she came out to visit him in college. As traumatizing as the event was––for both of them––it was a joke that both of them found surprisingly funny. And endearing.

"Kinda a hard thing to forget," Tim murmured. He had stopped pacing and sat himself on the edge of his desk. There were stand-out, horrific memories from that twenty-four hour period that never left Tim alone. One of the most vivid was that of being mere inches away from inevitable death, only to have Gwyn pull him out of the way. To turn around and see her sprawled out across the floor, face pale, eyes wide, and chest slashed open. With that bloody memory flashing to the forefront of his mind, Tim cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'll get the email out before my break is over. I'll keep you updated on any response I get."

"Thank you, Tim. I owe you big time," Gwyn told him. It was very evident, just by the tone of her voice, that she was intent on making it up to him.

Tim smiled down at his feet and shook his head, though she couldn't see it. "No, you don't. It's the least of what I can do."

"Thank you, Timmy," she reiterated, quieter this time.

"Don't mention it, Gwynny."

Afterword: If y'all want some good adult!Tim Murphy headcanons, check out a tumblr called dr-tim-murphy. Reading through the headcanons and the little fics on that page inspired this whole last moment with Tim. I've fallen in love with adult Tim Murphy, he's such a lovable dork!

Review Replies!

WriterGirl1198: I'm so happy you enjoyed the last chapter! I think that the Ingrid v. Irene moment is so… harrowing is because it's the first outward sign of shit getting real. And, for Gwyn, the first realization that no matter what she does or says (whether people ignore it or not) fate is on a one-track journey and she can't stop it. It's horrifying to her. She feels like she's waiting for everything to explode. I am… beyond incredibly flattered that you enjoy this story so much! Thanks again! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

MsRosePetal: They had a moment! And then Gwyn really just mucked it up in her anxiety-panic-addled brain. But we'll get some Owen/Gwyn stuff next chapter and start to work through that. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

NicoleR85: The way that Gwyn's handling Wu is gonna be real unpredictable from here on out. Wu's shaken her faith and her confidence. Putting the two of them in the same room is gonna be like putting a lit match next to a powder keg. I also thought that, of all the friends that Gwyn has, Tim would be the one to outright panic about her going to work at JW. A well-intentioned freak out where his emotions and fears really got the best of him. I might flash back to the phone call later, I don't know when. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

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

Makokam: I do think that, given the time and correct resources, the raptors could be mildly more easy to be around and work with. But, as you said, probably only with their trainer/handler. And that's one of the reasons that I kinda wanted to play with Echo and Blue kinda being back-up for Gwyn, 'cause she's around more, almost in a handler-like position. Almost. She doesn't have their full loyalty, but they know her well enough––and recognize Owen's association with her enough––to lend out some kind of hand. And the time skip to the gala probably could have benefitted from being the start of another chapter, I realize it was weird and jarring. But with the way I've ordered events, that was the next big thing that was going to happen and the transition was clunky. I am a firm believer that Wu is very much a man who keeps to himself because people can barely stand to work with him unless they have vastly similar personalities. I also realize that I villainize him quite a bit, because I've been writing following Gwyn for so long. She has such a grudge against him that, in my head, he's just this… enormously pompous ass.

And we'll get into Masrani's acknowledgement and/or dismissal of Gwyn's concerns next chapter. Masrani is a tricky character. Because he clearly has a love of the park and the dinosaurs. There are parts of his vision that lends itself to John Hammond's; but he's also the one who sanctioned and blessed the splicing of the Indominus Rex without necessarily fully thinking through the potential impacts of that. He's a businessman, and he has a business to maintain.

And I'm actually happy that you picked up on the fact that people definitely would not miss Owen and Gwyn having gone missing during the gala, 'cause that gets brought up next chapter.

And, also, as you mentioned, Gwyn (and Tim) realize that they're not the Expendables. They all vehemently protested the opening of the park and they realize that they're not gonna close it down. But Gwyn, particularly, is of the mindset that if they are presented with the potential effects of what mis-managing the park can do, they might take more precaution. And with the announcement of the Indominus Rex to the public (which is, thank god, a canon thing that they did), she has the teeniest bit of leeway in explaining things. Because anyone could google 'indominus rex' and realize it isn't something that born naturally, that it wasn't lurking around in the age of the dinosaurs. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again for the lovely review!

AmericanNidiot: Oh, just you wait till shit kicks up… Gwyn and Hoskins getting face-to-face is gonna be… so goddamn good. I'm so ready for it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

JosieoftheRose: So I love writing Wu vs. Gwyn scenes, but I equally adore writing Gwyn vs. Hoskins, because there's just something about him that gets under her skin in a way that Wu doesn't, and that's saying something. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

kimikokimono: Owen did, indeed, say that he couldn't date anyone without rhythm! And Gwyn just so happens to have some rhythm! We love little moments like that, I live to write them. I would also have totally included stuff about genetics in the bloodlines line… but, alas, I'm not the most science-based person. Biology was my strong suit (for science) in high school, but that's years removed. I should probably make an effort to re-acquaint myself with some of it as Gwyn is probably pretty privy to it. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

ArtemisLuna85: It's been hard to figure out ways to bring up mentions of Tim and Lex. Because I firmly believe that the kids kept in good contact post-incident; because they were all around the same age going through life learning to live with this trauma. And to quote Stranger Things, they've got the real shit––shared trauma. I could write up a full headcanon list on shit like the time they called each other after the San Diego incident, Tim and Gwyn's college-age visits to each other, the wine nights Lex and Gwyn definitely had when they met up post-college. And I did mention, briefly, as Alan left that he did meet Lowery. I wanted to write the scene (the scene where everyone swarms Gwyn and Alan was supposed to start with them meeting Lowery) but it didn't work out. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

Arianna Le Fay: I love getting to write fluffy stuff after lots of waiting. And, initially, the plan was to have much, much more fluffy stuff happen before the movie events happened. But if I did that, we'd have a whole ass novel before we got to movie stuff. But we'll have plenty of fluffy stuff in the future! Near future. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Guest: Thank you so much! I had to consolidate a lot of ideas so I could finally get to the movie within the next chapter or so, so I'm glad that everything worked out and read well! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter just as much!

Raider-K: I was half-way through writing the gala scene when I went 'shit, I need to make this more date-y somehow. And just the idea of these two people––who hate going to shit like this––sneak away to make the best of the night seemed perfectly them. And the dancing… Owen strikes me as a dancer (though I don't know if that's just Christ Pratt/Star Lord influencing the characterization). But I think, regardless, Owen liking to dance just kinda fits him. And we got a nice teasing little smooch––with the big smooch approaching ever faster!

I can tell you exactly what happened when they left the gala, even though I didn't write it. Gwyn and Owen left the Innovation Center and dorkily half-danced down Main Street to get to Owen's jeep. People eating outside at restaurants watched and smiled, making comments about 'young love.' When he dropped her off at the bungalow, he gave her a very gentlemanly kiss on the cheek––though it lingered longer than it should have. (God I'm a sucker for romance). I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

ZabuzasGirl: The Girls are back next chapter! We'll get some more stuff with them (a little bit) before the movie events pick up. But even with the movie stuff happening, there will be more stuff going on between Gwyn and the Girls as it goes forward. I've got plans. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

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

So, I know I said next chapter we would get to movie canon, and that is STILL the intent. But there was a chunk of this chapter that I had to move to the next one, so we'll see. But, regardless, I can guarantee that, if not next chapter, the chapter after that will OFFICIALLY start the movie events!

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter; thanks again, everyone!

~Mary