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.
26. Bless the Rains
To say that it was pouring rain would be an understatement.
Visibility was shit because of how hard the rain was sheeting down, sweeping across the island mercilessly. Every attraction was closed till further notice, though plenty of rainy-day contingency activities were available in the resort. Main Street was a ghost town as palm trees bent at dangerous angles, the wind pulling at them with vicious intent. Thunder grumbled and cracked and boomed while lightning flashed in the coal colored clouds. Staff and park patrons alike were encouraged to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary. Boats weren't running to or from the mainland.
The weather skeeved Gwyn out, more so than usual. Thunderstorms already didn't sit well with her, but this time, it was different. Back home, Gwyn could take comfort in looking outside to see street lamps and pine trees. On Isla Nublar, however, everything was perfectly reminiscent of that night. The heaviness of the rain, the sharp gusts of wind, the exotic trees, and the oppressive humidity. Every element was a heavy reminder, and it was hard to shrug off, even harder to ignore. It didn't help that Gwyn's phone near constantly lit up with weather alerts from the island's weather stations. Landslide warnings for mountainous roads, flood warnings for lowlands and river beds, severe wind advisories, the whole shebang. It was like living in the middle of the disaster zone.
The patter of rain against the hood of Gwyn's rain jacket was thunderous. The hood was snapped closed around her neck in an attempt to keep it covering her head. Not that it was doing much good. Her face was dripping, and the wind pushed rain into her hood, which left her hair soaked. Gwyn was sloshing through the mud towards the raptor paddock's office, shoulders tense and eyes squinted. Her rain boots were coated in mud up to the ankle and spattered with it up to the calf. Her jeans stuck to her skin, and she regretted that she did not keep spare clothes in the paddock office. Once she was inside, the air-conditioning would chill the wet fabric, which would leave her shivering. And, sure enough, once she lurched through the office door, she was immediately too cold.
"Shit…" She stared out the window in the office door, glowering at the intemperate weather. Gwyn wrenched the snap on her hood open and shoved it back. Wet hair tumbled into her eyes, dripping rainwater down her jacket front. "It's hell out there," she commented to anyone inside.
"Sure is," came the only response.
Gwyn's head whipped around, wet hair slapping against, and then clinging to, her cheeks. Owen was stood behind his desk, eyes trained on her. He was the only one in the office. With an awkward air about her, Gwyn reached up and brushed the hair off her cheeks. For a moment, they were both quiet, both unsure. To say that the last few days had been awkwardly tense would be putting it lightly. Gwyn and Owen, while still working with one another at the paddock, had put some distance between themselves. They didn't chat amiably. It was strictly work, which was strange. And their co-workers realized it was strange; they were so used to having the two tease and joke––and flirt––that the sudden distance was startling. And it was jarring for them, too.
"Where, uh… where is everyone? I thought it would be chaos up here," Gwyn commented, waggling a finger at the empty desks.
Owen's eyes lingered on her for a moment before, with the clearing of his throat, he gestured to the door. "They're running out to grab extra supplies. We're pretty set at the moment, but we want to make sure," he told her.
With a nod, Gwyn started to unzip her jacket. She shucked it and put it on the peg of the coat rack that she usually used. The quiet between herself and Owen was almost physically uncomfortable. It made her skin crawl because it didn't feel right––and because she knew that she was the reason it was so damn awkward.
"Are there any concerns as of yet?"
"Right now it's just making sure that, if the breakers blow, we can get out there to fix them. We also have to be wary about power surges, 'cause they can cause the gates to go haywire, which would be… bad."
Gwyn snorted a little, under her breath, and let a wry smirk crawl across half her face. "Yeah, 'bad,'" she drawled, shooting him a glance.
For a moment, everything seemed okay again. Owen chuckled at her deadpan and her clear, unspoken belief that the gates malfunctioning would be disastrous. In response, Gwyn smiled a little wider. But then neither of them ventured to say anything else, unsure of what they would say if they did. The tension crept back into the room and left only the low hum of the air conditioning. In that awkward lull, Gwyn's brows crept together in a furrow, and she ducked her head. She reached out to Francis' desk and tapped the side of a toy ankylosaurus; it toppled over and Gwyn nudged the toy of a roaring t-rex closer, having thus created a triumphant hunting scene. Her hand retreated into the wet pocket of her jeans, the dampness of which made her nose crinkle.
"How're, uh…" Owen started, trailing off. He drummed his fingers on the back of his desk chair, which he had gripped sometime after she'd walked in. "How're the… roads? Have any trouble getting in?"
With a shrug, Gwyn started to awkwardly wander closer, pausing every couple steps to fix something on one of the boys' desks. Nudging a mug away from the edge, fixing a toy dinosaur tableau on a desk, picking up a fallen sticky note and putting it back on the correct computer. Anything to try and shoulder off the awkwardness that filled the room. Then she shrugged, twisting her lips into some sort of contemplative look.
"Muddy. Nearly got stuck a couple times, actually. I, uh… I hope that everyone can make it back; before long, their tires are gonna sink in and spin out. The mud here, it's… nasty stuff." Gwyn looked down at her boots, which were coated in the stuff. Her lips twisted. "It reminds me of…" Screaming, shattering glass, the weight of a t-rex bearing down on a car, the fear that she was going to die. "Uh… nevermind. Not important." Gwyn looked up and arched her eyebrows, trying to play it all off as a lost thought. "When did you, uh, when did you get in?"
But, just like every other time she'd ever tried to play that kind of shit off, Owen didn't buy it. His eyes had crinkled at the corners as he fixed her with an appraising gaze. But, unlike every other time, he seemed to swallow back a question, an urging comment that she could talk to him. He briefly lifted his phone, which was sitting on his desk. "When the first weather alert came in."
Gwyn blinked at him, trying to recall when her phone had trilled that horrible, dissonant warning tone. It had yanked her from the fragile semblance of sleep that she'd been granted in the stormy weather.
"That was like… two o'clock this morning."
"Yup," Owen confirmed with a simple nod. He looked tired, Gwyn realized––it was in his eyes. How they drooped a little more than usual, how sometimes, when he blinked, they stayed closed a little longer than normal. "The girls and this paddock are my responsibility. I want to be here in case anything happens." He turned to the cabinet behind his desk and rooted around for something. "I'm actually gonna duck out for a second, make sure the breaker shed's door's closed; don't want any water getting in." He turned back around and held something out to her. "Here. For your hair."
It was a towel. It was grey and the size of a hand towel one might keep in their kitchen. The likes of which Gwyn had seen around the paddock before––for cleaning railings, mopping sweat off foreheads, anything and everything. They were cleaned regularly and always readily available. She took the towel from him and nodded a little.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
Owen was smiling at her gently; it was the ghost of the kinds of smiles he usually offered her. It was tentative and unsure. She could tell from the twitching of the corners of his mouth that he wanted to say something, but was fighting the urge to do so. Instead, he nodded and moved silently towards the door. Gwyn shook the towel out and started to rub it over her head. She heard the shuffling of a rain jacket, the zip of a zipper, and the thunderous pounding of rain as the door opened. It was muffled again as the door shut.
"Shit," Gwyn hissed at herself. She pressed the towel against her face and groaned into it.
For the last two, awkward days, she had been trying to figure out what to say to fix the shit hole of a situation she put herself and Owen in. What she'd said to him about their potentially blooming relationship being a mistake was a mistake in itself. Because Gwyn didn't believe that. She didn't believe that what she and Owen had had distracted her from seeing the warning signs at the Indominus paddock. It was simply the easiest––though untrue––explanation she could grab in a moment of panic induced stress. As cliché as it sounded, if she could go back and stop herself from saying what she did, she would have.
The room was suddenly alight with the flash of a lightning bolt. A clap of thunder then all but caused Gwyn to jump out of her skin. Her heart went racing and her breath caught in her throat. With her eyes scrunched shut, Gwyn sank to the floor and braced her back against the side of Owen's desk. She pulled her knees towards her chest, wet, cold denim sticking to her thighs. With the towel draped over her head, hands clutching it there like it could muffle the sounds of the weather, Gwyn took a deep breath. She let it out just as slowly, quietly reminding herself that it was okay. That she was in the office, not the car, and that it was just thunder. There was no growling t-rex to accompany the crashing.
Gwyn was sitting like that when Owen came back some time later. The door was open for longer than normal, the pattering of rain loud and the smell of humidity wafting in on a wave. When it shut, there was the rustling of rain jacket fabric as it was removed. The sound of boots across the floor. They stopped beside her.
"You alright?" he asked.
With a hum, Gwyn slowly raised her head and pulled the towel off, her hair rumpled and a little stringy, but drier. She shrugged her shoulders and gestured vaguely towards the door. "This storm, it's been kinda rough for me," she admitted. There was a hummed acknowledgement and then another awkward swath of silence. Then, with her head thunking back against the desk, and her eyes scrunched shut, Gwyn sighed. "What I said outside Starbucks the other day…"
"About whatever's going on between us maybe being a mistake?" Owen attempted to clarify. Gwyn winced as her previous words were relayed back to her. It caused a bitter taste to rise to her tounge, which crinkled her nose and the twisted sides of her mouth.
"Yeah, that. I shouldn't have said it. 'Cause I don't believe it," Gwyn laughed at herself, clearly frustrated. She kicked her legs out and shook her head. One of her hands crept up to massage the skin at the back of her neck habitually. "I'm uh… not the best at expressing my feelings verbally. It's, uh… Grant family curse, I think… good at speechifying but only if we can write it out first. So I've been trying really hard to figure out what I was gonna say…" She shrugged helplessly. "Realized I shouldn't give excuses. 'Cause I could read you a laundry list of them and none of them would be fair to you. I could… ramble on for the next hour, but that wouldn't get us anywhere. What I'm trying to land on is… I'm sorry. I really, really am, Owen."
Gwyn tilted her head back to stare up at Owen, who had been standing the entire time she was apologizing. He was staring right back, arms crossed, brows crinkled together. He held her gaze for a moment before he let out a breath. Owen turned to face her and then lowered himself to sit across from her, back braced against Barry's desk.
"So, you don't think that… we're a mistake?" he asked. It was a probing question matched by an equally probing gaze.
"No, I don't," she reiterated. "I… really like what we've got going on. I'm just an… asshole."
There was quiet for a moment, a kind of quiet where one can't gauge the meaning of it. If it's tense, regretful, relieved, or otherwise. It was almost unsettling because of that. The only thing that Gwyn could focus on was Owen's unwavering, calculating gaze. It reminded her of how he'd taken account of her upon first meeting; he was trying to figure out what she was about, and if she was telling the truth. Then, with a puff of air passing through his lips, Owen let his head drop backwards.
"I, uh… probably shouldn't have fed into the moment. I knew that you had beef with Wu and bringing it up directly after he essentially fired you was… not the best thing I could've done," Owen admitted, sheepishly almost. "If I hadn't brought it up, you wouldn't have said what you did. So I'm sorry."
Gwyn kicked her feet out and nudged his thigh with the toe of her boot. "You're not the one who said the most asshole thing someone could say at the start of––at any point in a relationship, really."
"You were having a moment, which I had a hand in playing into."
There was a moment, during which they held each other's gazes intensely. Both trying to get the other to give in and accept the other's apology. Then, when it became clear that both were too stubborn and neither would back down, Gwyn started to laugh. She shook her head and he smiled, a little broader than he had in the previous few days.
"I mean, you weren't exactly wrong," Gwyn sighed. Her smile started to fade. She pushed a hand through her damp hair. Her fingers caught on tangles and snags, which she pulled them through with a couple of tugs. Owen's brows pulled together, and his head cocked to the side, curious. "Part of my grudge against Wu is childish. I do cling to our very brief first confrontation as the catalyst to our larger feud. But… he scares me. That's why I can't let it go. He is the most driven, ambitious man that I've ever met. And look at what his ambition has already done, think of what it could do… I fight against him because he scares me. And maybe that's a bit childish, but…" Gwyn shrugged.
There was a quiet moment in which what felt like understanding passed between them. Gwyn understood why he said the grudge was childish, and admitted that, yes, the basis of it was. Owen understood, now, why she clung to the feud, because it was her only defense against the man who scared her.
"How about we settle on the fact that both of us were a little wrong," Gwyn offered.
Owen slowly started to nod, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling as though considering the offer. It was almost teasing. When he looked back down, his lips were quirked to the side in half a smile. "Deal."
A beat.
"But I was still an asshole," Gwyn muttered.
"Oh, stop," Owen urged. He grabbed hold of the toe of her boot, despite the drying mud, and shook it as he might have shaken her shoulders. "I get it." She fixed him with a look; he responded by raising his eyebrows. "Really, I do. I may not... fully get the whole grudge thing, but this, I understand. What you said, it stung, a lot, but I realized that you were just frustrated. I just had to keep reminding myself about that. And that I fed into your frustration and you lashed out because of it. It was a… perfect storm for a really shitty day. We're both to blame. So stop," he shook her foot again and Gwyn rolled her eyes, "beating yourself up over it." Despite the stubborn part of herself desperately wanting to cling to taking the blame, Gwyn started to smile. Then, as the tension in the air started to dissipate, Owen cocked his head to the side. "You said relationship a moment ago."
Gwyn arched a coy eyebrow and let her lips curl into a smirk. She tipped her head into a nod. "Mm-hm."
"So… this…" Owen gestured between them, as she had done the other day. "Is it too early to discuss what it is?"
"Do you… want to? After…" Gwyn trailed off, quietly alluding to what she'd said. Owen fixed her with a look. "What? You can't blame me for double checking, I know people that'd run for the hills after a comment like that."
"Well, I'm not running, am I? Too much rain for that, I'd end up with a face full of mud," he joked. Gwyn snorted and rolled her eyes, unable to help the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. Owen smiled, too. "I'm serious. Do you wanna discuss this?"
"Well, it would be better than just saying 'this,' all the time," Gwyn deadpanned jokingly. He chuckled across from her and bobbed his head in an agreement.
"I, uh… without sounding juvenile about it… I like you," Owen settled on firmly.
There was a flutter in Gwyn's stomach, one that caused a pleasant shiver to run through her body. The tentative smile on her face bloomed into something brighter and broader. "Well, that's handy, 'cause I like you, too." Then she snickered and shook her head, which thunked back against his desk. "God, there's really gotta be a better way to talk about this and not sound like teenagers."
With a chuckle, Owen shifted. He briefly stood only to sit back down, this time shoulder-to-shoulder with Gwyn. His legs sat kicked out beside hers, his muddy work boots splayed out next to hers. The closeness was welcomed, and she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it till she could feel the warmth of his shoulder against hers.
"So, I'd like to take you out on dates. A lot of them," Owen informed brightly. Gwyn grinned and ducked her head, cheeks flushing.
"Well, good thing I'm a cheap date," she teased. Owen snorted and shook his head, as though denying her comment. He tapped her thigh with the side of his boot, unwittingly leaving a slight smear of mud.
"Oh, I'll be taking you to all the fanciest places," he joked. "Candle lit tables, quartets, caviar…" Gwyn started to laugh, shaking her head at him. "So that, uh… that constitutes the term dating, right? Going out on dates regularly. That's… what that is."
With a laugh, she nodded and lifted her head; she beamed over at him and found him grinning roguishly back. Briefly, Gwyn leaned her weight against his shoulder, the movement tentatively playful, like she was worried he'd rescind the sentiment. "I think so, yeah."
Owen grinned a little wider. "Good. That's just what I was thinking, Dr. Grant."
"Good to know, Mr. Grady," she replied in a light hum.
Their little moment was interrupted by the chirp of Owen's phone. He reached up to grope the top of his desk, fingers searching. When he found it, he opened the received text message. While he read the text and tapped out a reply, Gwyn took stock of the office again. The whiteboard on the wall––which usually had daily announcements and doodles on it––had been wiped and replaced with one message in red dry-erase marker in Owen's handwriting: NO ONE GOES ON THE CATWALKS TILL THE STORM IS OVER. There was a spare pack of batteries sitting where the markers usually did and a group of flashlights on the corner of Barry's desk. The cabinet in the back of the room that held the tranq guns––usually only accessible by ACU––was unlocked and open in light of a potential emergency situation.
"Well, it looks like it might just be you and I for a bit," Owen said, tapping at his screen. With a curious furrow to her brows, Gwyn turned her attention away from the formidable looking tranquilizer guns.
"How do you mean? I thought the boys were just ducking out for more supplies," Gwyn pointed out.
"They were. But Barry says that they're trapped resort-side. Apparently they've barred all access outside the park walls 'cause the roads are basically rivers of mud. They don't want anyone getting stranded while help can't get to them," Owen elaborated. He reached up to place his phone on the corner of the desk, and Gwyn hummed lowly.
"Yeah, being stuck in the mud in a storm like this is hellish," she agreed.
They lapsed into a silence that was comfortable, a far cry from the tension that had formed between them the previous few days. A low grumble of thunder rumbled outside, which made Gwyn's shoulders go stiff. She felt Owen take her hand, his fingers scooping beneath her palm so he could grasp it properly. Her eyes fell shut and a contented smile rested on her lips. But instead of leaving their hands clasped and resting on the floor between their legs, Owen lifted them and rested them in his lap. His pants were damp with rain water, chilled from the air conditioning. Gwyn felt his thumb brush across the back of her hand, dancing across tendons and knuckles.
"You've got nice hands," Owen complimented softly.
Gwyn's eyes opened slowly, and she rolled her head to the side. She was close enough to Owen to smell the rain on him. She watched as he observed her hand with the utmost focus. He turned her hand over and let his thumb rub across her palm, like he was giving it a gentle massage. It felt nice. The joints in her hands got stiff sometimes as a result of her field work, and any special attention they received was greatly welcomed.
"Really?" she laughed, self-consciously, almost. "They're all… calloused." It was true, they were, though they had softened some. It had been a while since she'd used the tools of her trade, which left the most prominent callous being that from writing field notes. Her nails were longer than they had been in years, too, as field work often wasn't kind to nails that weren't short.
"Still nice. Got nice fingers, they're long." Owen smiled over at her and gave her hand a squeeze. With her smile becoming a little crooked, Gwyn pulled his hand into her lap.
"You've got nice hands yourself, don't sell yourself short." A brow quirked and she glanced over at him cheekily. "You were fascinated by paleontology pick-up lines… wanna taste of some paleontology-based flirtation?"
Owen's eyes narrowed a little, but his smile grew and he bobbed his head in a nod. "Alright."
"When you find a fossil, it's usually hard to determine what used to be bone and what's always been rock. The fossilization process makes them hard to distinguish. So it can be difficult to tell the difference… But, you see, rock is rough." Gwyn hoisted his hand a little higher and brought the fingers of her other hand to the back of it. She brushed them over one of his knuckles. "Bone is smooth." She slid her finger along one of his tendons in a languid movement. The touches were light and teasing, enough to cause one's skin to prickle. "Rough." Her fingers danced to another knuckle. "Smooth." Back down along the tendon. At that point, Gwyn flicked her eyes up to meet Owen's, lips curled into a coy smile.
Owen continued to let her brush the pads of her fingers across the back of his hand, a soft kind of look on his face. One corner of his mouth was slightly raised, and his eyes were partially hooded. He leaned his head back against the desk and hummed a little laugh. "This how you help teach aspiring paleontologists? 'Cause I might just have to sign up for classes," he hummed.
Gwyn laughed and let their hands fall to rest in her lap again. "If you signed up for paleontology classes, you wouldn't get the chance to work with me for years." She winked at him and dropped her head back against the desk as well. "I'll give you private lessons."
"I like the sound of that," he agreed, holding her hand just a little tighter.
Gwyn grinned and let her eyes fall shut again. She listened to the sound of the air conditioning unit humming away, the rain drumming on the roof, and the consistent pattern of Owen's breathing. It was a soothing soundscape. One that almost made her forget where she was. But that was broken by a nasty clap of thunder that shook the walls and rattled her bones. The muscles in Gwyn's body tensed, and she was all at once reminded of why. Because it was this kind of storm that thrashed the island the night everything went to hell. Thunderstorms back home were easier to get through. But on Isla Nublar, a stone's throw away from where everything happened, it was insanely difficult.
Owen shifted closer to her and draped an arm over her shoulders. He tucked her into his side and turned his head so his lips pressed against her increasingly drier hair. Gwyn found comfort in the weight of his arm, and the feeling of his breath disturbing her hair gently as he breathed. There was comfort in just existing beside each other, alone in the paddock office till the weather drew them out to do a round of safety checks. For the first time since Ingrid had eaten her sister, and since Wu had kicked her off the project, Gwyn felt a little more at peace. And she clung to that feeling because something in the pit of her stomach warned her that it wouldn't last.
OOOO
Gwyn leaned against the rail of the catwalk, which had been subjected to the blistering heat of the sun. She was jotting observation notes down in her notebook, eyes occasionally jumping down to the paddock below. The girls had seemed skittish in the several days following the storm, which was––according to Owen––the biggest one they'd lived through. It had raged for about twenty-six hours and left the island littered with palm fronds, downed trees, and muddy roads. In the days following, Gwyn kept a close eye on the girls, just in case something was off. She had a small, already filled notepad in her back pocket, and a fresh one in hand. The already filled pad was used for reference, skimmed over at lunch to make sure that nothing had changed drastically. Gwyn would arrive to the paddock a little early and stay a little later than usual, hunched over Owen's desk as she jotted down notes, made comparisons, and discussed potential concerns.
It left her tired, but it made her feel better about her situation. Where being removed from the Indominus Project had left Gwyn feeling like all semblance of control had escaped her––been ripped from her hands, more like––being at the raptor paddock made her feel like she had some of it back. Her mood had lifted significantly. It felt good to talk with people who actually listened, who would discuss ideas and concerns; and it made Gwyn regret all the time she'd been forced to spend away from the paddock. Regret all the time she'd spent away from the people who really cared about their jobs and the safety of others and the people they worked with.
There was a sudden chatter of screeching, which sharply drew Gwyn's attention downwards. Below, Echo had started to nip at Delta, the two squawking at one another.
"Hey! Don't boss!" Gwyn called down into the paddock. At the sound of her voice, both raptors looked up; Delta trotted away, disinterested, but Echo perked her head up a little bit. Gwyn shoved her pen through the spiral of her notepad and fixed Echo with a look. "If you boss around, you won't get what you want."
Echo made a sound, as though she understood and was replying, her head cocked to the side. Gwyn snorted lightly at the absurdity of it all. No matter how many times Echo seemed to give Gwyn her wholehearted attention, no matter how at ease the girls seemed with her there, it was still so absurd. The whole situation was absurd. The girls still frightened her; she didn't think that she would ever truly be at ease with them. But it was easier to stand up on the catwalks and be in their space; as could be expected, some days were better than others, but things were easier. She'd never have been able to meet Echo's eyes when she'd started at the park over half a year ago.
"You sure about that? You seem to get your way when you boss people around," teased Owen, who sauntered along the catwalk. Gwyn lifted her head and grinned across the top of the paddock, eyes squinted at the glittering ocean just on the horizon.
"Oh, really?" she laughed. She cocked a hip and leaned sideways against the rail. Owen grinned crookedly and came to stop in front of her, a hand stretched out to grab the rail she leaned against. He nodded, a roguish look overcoming his face.
"Uh-huh."
"So… I could boss you around and you'd do what I want?"
"Happily," Owen hummed. His face was awash with the golden light of the sun, his eyes squinted gently against it. Gwyn hummed in interest, and her head lolled to the side.
"That sounds like a good deal. I'll have to keep that in mind, then," she told him with a wink and a smirk.
With a grin stretched across his face, Owen leaned in a little closer, his hand slipping along the rail so their fingers were no less than an inch apart. His other hand came to rest boldly on her hip, one of his fingers stretched under the belt loop of her shorts. Gwyn arched an eyebrow and did nothing to fight off the smile that formed from her previous smirk. "Would mind if you bossed me around a bit."
"Whoa there, cowboy," Gwyn laughed. She placed the hand that held her notepad over the one he'd placed on her hip. She jerked her head to the side, vaguely motioning to the paddock below. "Last time we got this close Blue tried to rip my throat out."
Owen glanced down briefly before he shrugged; the roguish grin returned to his face. "Doesn't seem like she's around, so I think we're safe." He took an almost comically purposeful step forward so the toes of their boots were touching.
He was close enough that Gwyn could smell the slight tang of sweat, which was just starting to overpower the smell of the body spray Owen kept in his desk drawer. He was close enough that she could see the slight sunburned tinge at the tops of his ears. See the way the sun caught in his hair and made it look more gold than it was. Owen was stood dangerously close. Dangerous because all Gwyn wanted to do, in that moment, was pull him closer. But there was a sudden, curious tittering from the paddock below.
Both of them turned their attention downward and found that Blue had, in fact, been around. She was stood at the perfect angle to stare up at them, her head cocked to the side curiously. The sound that left her throat sounded like the croaking cooing that birds sometimes did. It wasn't threatening, but it was enough to make Gwyn's brows furrow. Where she had grown more comfortable with Echo, Blue still scared her a reasonable amount. Blue watched her constantly, especially if Owen was around. It was the kind of gaze that was both an appraisal and a warning. It was unsettling to say the least.
"I'm with Blue on this one!" Barry announced, appearing on the catwalk. Gwyn craned her head around Owen's shoulder, and he twisted his neck to get a look at their friend. Barry was grinning cheekily and toting a metal bucket in hand. "And as happy as I am––we all are––that you're not fighting anymore," he raised the bucket, "it's time for hide and seek."
With a hearty roll of his eyes, Owen squeezed Gwyn's hip. He winked at her, and she smiled, before he turned to take the bucket from Barry with a drawled, flat 'thanks'; Barry just grinned and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Gwyn placed her own hand on Owen's shoulder, which caught his attention as she started to shift past him. She raised her eyebrows pointedly.
"Good luck," Gwyn wished. Her fingers squeezed at his shoulder before she and Barry made their way back down the catwalk.
When it was time for the daily exercises, everyone had a place they retreated to. Owen, typically, was the only one on the main catwalks, as it gave him freedom of movement, and the girls wouldn't get too distracted by extra faces. Everyone else usually gathered around the edges, leaned against the rails as they watched that day's progress. So Gwyn took her usually spot between Barry and Francis, her forearms braced on the railing. Everyone was tense. They usually were when it came time to practice the exercises. They'd witnessed enough failures to know not to get their hopes up; but they also saw enough improvements to know there was still hope to be had.
Hide-and-seek was a series of maneuvers that Gwyn had become accustomed to. Depending on the day, any number of things could happen. Sometimes one of the girls acted out, sometimes they were too restless to listen at all, and sometimes things looked like they were going perfectly, only to have it all fall through at the last minute. It was something everyone watched with bated breath. This was what they were there for, really; to see how well the girls were responding to their training. This maneuver was imperative to what their project, a test of seeing if what they'd been doing was really working. Sometimes the boys took bets on how well it would work, betting lunch orders, spare cash, and drink rounds for fun. It helped them get through the days that didn't go as well as they wanted. It didn't seem like anyone was in the betting mood, however, as they anxiously rubbed their palms together and waited for it all to start.
Owen hooked the bucket on the rail, walked to the far end of the catwalk, and lifted a hand. He glanced over at the worker manning the small control panel and gave a nod. Once he got a nod back, he swept his hand downwards. There was a buzzing as a small door was opened. There was the faint sound of panicked squealing, as a small pig started to dart through the paddock. Everyone was quiet as the paddock was suddenly a jumble of distinct sounds––the squealing of the pig, the sharp rustling of foliage, and the almost unnoticeable huffing of harsh breathing. Gwyn shifted a little against the rail, clearing her throat quietly. Beside her, Barry reached out to pat her back comfortingly, understandingly. No matter how many times she watched the girls play hide-and-seek, no matter how many times Owen conducted this maneuver, her skin still crawled. It was still uncomfortable for her to watch the girls hunt. Because somewhere in the back of her head, it felt like they were coming after her. Rationally, of course, she knew that was not true. But once one was made to be a piece of prey, it was difficult not to feel that way.
It didn't take long for the pig to come squealing out of the thicket of jungle, kicking up wood chips as it ran. Gwyn laced her fingers tightly together as the girls tore into the clearing, heads low, tails whipping, teeth bared. Her muscles instinctively tensed. An equally tense breath was exhaled through her nose, an attempt to steady the predicted jump of nerves.
But there was a sudden call of, "Hold!" from Owen. The girls came to a screeching halt, their feet sending sprays of wood chips every which way. They were actively panting and grunting, searching for the little pig that had just evaded them. "Hey!" The girls looked up and at Owen, who stood, silhouetted by the sun, with a hand raised in a hating motion. "Okay––" he clicked the clicker, "eyes on me." Three of the four velociraptors obeyed, their gazes trained unwaveringly. "Blue." Blue was still dutifully searching for the pig, head ducked low, not ready to give up the hunt; Owen clicked the clicker a few more times. "Blue!" When she looked up, he pointed, warningly. "Watch it. Charlie, don––hey!" Charlie whipped her head around and growled, disgruntled. "Don't give me that shit!" Owen barked.
"They're feisty today," Gwyn commented quietly.
"When are they not?" chuckled Barry.
"Delta! Lock it up!" Owen ordered. Delta, who had been a little squirmy, ceased the unnecessary movements. "Good!" More clicking. Echo stood with her head lifted and her eyes raised to Owen dutifully. Of the four, she was the only one who hadn't needed calling out. "And…" Owen raised his hand high over his head, to give the girls a reference point, "we're moving!" He started to move along the catwalk at a steady pace, hooking a right when he hit the point where all four catwalks converged.
Gwyn watched with her teeth gnawing at her lip. This was usually where things went wrong. The girls would lose focus or interest as they moved, breaking off despite Owen's commands. It was usually the point where everyone either let their shoulders slouched, or gripped the rails tighter in anticipation. This time, the girls were following. Charlie had peeled out and walked a loop, but returned to her spot as she and her sisters followed Owen's movement. A quiet ripple of excitement washed over the paddock workers. They all shifted on their feet a little and grabbed hold of the railing.
"Hold!" Owen called out once more, coming to stop by the metal bucket Barry had brought up. All the girls stopped. They watched attentively. "That's good. That is damn good." The clicker was pressed a couple of times, an audible reward. He hand delved into the bucket. "Very good! See, Charlie, that's what you get!" A stiff, dead rat was thrown in Charlie's direction; she snatched it out of the air hungrily, excitedly. "Echo, there you go!" Another rat. "Delta!" Another. Owen dug out another dead rat and lifted it high in the air. "Blue? This one's for you." The rat was tossed, and it arced towards the ground in a while blur. It was soon snatched up by Blue's hungry jaws, scarfed down in mere seconds.
"I think he might do it," Barry murmured excitedly. He was antsy with potential excitement, shifting on his feet as everyone watched and waited. Gwyn resisted the urge to audibly tut; instead she quirked her head to the side quickly.
"Don't wanna jinx it, but… I think you might be right," she agreed. Maneuvers hadn't gone this well in weeks. They hadn't made it this far without incident for weeks. But everything was going smoothly, like someone was illustrating the perfect scenario. It was exciting, but also anxiety inducing; because if something––anything––went wrong, it would leave everyone more disappointed than ever.
With the treats doled out, Owen raised a hand again.
"Hold!" He twisted his hand to the side and lifted it slightly. "Eyes up!" As though he had pulled on a string attached to their heads, all girls lifted their heads in sync. Gwyn straightened up a little. Her hand crept to the side to grab hold of Barry's coral colored button down. That had never happened before. Usually one of them was delayed or didn't listen. They'd moved in sync.
"Holy shit…" she whispered to herself.
The girls were held there for a second before, with a swipe, Owen brought his hand downwards. "Go!"
The girls trotted off, squealing and clicking, continuing on as though nothing had happened. They continued their search for the pig, which was already safely stowed away.
The excitement in the air was palpable. Francis and Jim high-fived giddily, grinning impossibly wide. Barry threw an arm around Gwyn's shoulders and tugged her into a side-hug. She returned it with a quietly disbelieving laugh, her arms briefly squeezing his middle. When he let go, Barry immediately strode towards Owen, arms open in invitation. Gwyn, however, hung back, and stared at where the girls had been moments before. She tapped the railing with the palm of her hand and hummed to herself.
"I'll be damned," she murmured. If Alan had been there, he might've had to sit down. Because what had just unfolded seemed impossible. A velociraptor––let alone a pack of them––responding to human-given commands seemed ludicrous. Sure, Gwyn had seen them listen to Owen before, but nothing to this degree. With a slight shake of her head, Gwyn climbed up onto the main catwalk, following after Barry.
"You finally did it, man!" enthused Barry, pulling Owen in for a quick hug. Barry was beaming, positively grinning, but Owen's expression remained significantly more sober. Like what had just happened was still processing for him.
"I've gotta say… didn't know if I'd see the day," Gwyn teased.
Owen snorted and smirked, rubbing his hands clean of dead-rat on a bandanna. "Your confidence in me is inspiring," he deadpanned. But his smirk grew into something playful, and Gwyn shoved her hands into her pockets with a chuckle.
"Owen!" Everyone's excited chatter died down as Hoskins sauntered along the outer catwalks, grinning impossibly bright. He laughed, a deep, belly laugh that almost seemed forced. Hoskins smacked Jim on the shoulder a couple times.
Gwyn groaned and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palm. "He really has an impeccable sense of timing, doesn't he?" she deadpanned. "The more often he shows up unexpected, the more liable I am to willingly throw myself into the raptor pit." She gripped the railing of the catwalk and leaned her weight against it, head dropping to hang in exasperation.
"I was starting to think I hired the wrong guys, but, damn, you got them eating out of your palm!" Hoskins proclaimed. The catwalk rattled as he trotted up onto it.
"You came on a good day. It's not usually a happy ending," Owen told him.
When Gwyn felt a hand come to thump against her back, she raised her head slowly. Hoskins was grinning at her, his hand drawing back to thump her back again. She arched a slow eyebrow in response, straightening up so his hand slipped away. "You doin' okay there, Dr. Grant?"
"Just peachy, thanks," she drawled with half a fake smile.
"You sure? I didn't think you'd be a fan of watching hunting maneuvers."
There was subtext to that statement. To the way his lips had quirked into some semblance of a smirk. Once, months ago, Gwyn had refused to divulge the very personal story of being hunted by a velociraptor. He'd pestered her about it gently since then; 'gently' here meaning that he preferred to bug her about his hair-brained scheme instead. But his question and the following statement made Gwyn's skin prickle. She felt like he wanted her to say 'I'm not, it reminds me of almost dying,' or anything of the sort. Instead, she smiled fully, though not genuinely and placed a hand on a cocked hip.
"I manage," she replied.
Barry chuckled behind a hand. Owen smirked, eyes twinkling with mirth. Hoskins shrugged with an air of dismissal.
Hoskins' gaze swiveled back to Owen, and the excited air about him changed into something a little more haughty. He shook Owen's hand firmly and quirked his brows. "Is that why you're not sending in your reports? The, uh… typically not happy endings?"
"We've been busy," defended Barry.
"Not too busy to cash your paychecks." He faked-out a playful boxing punch towards Barry, who just shifted slightly backwards, unamused.
"You'll have to forgive them," Gwyn said, leaning her elbows back on the railing casually. She shrugged her shoulders and splayed her hands out by her hips. "They're just busy doing quality in-depth research and keeping the power on during unpresidented tropical storms. So sorry they haven't found the time to organize, transfer, and send in their notes."
Hoskins just grinned over at her and shook his head, murmuring the word 'feisty' through a low chuckle. Gwyn rolled her eyes and turned her head so she could gaze out towards the ocean, which glittered enticingly in the sun. She'd happily dive off the nearest cliff to get away from Hoskins. Not to mention, it would be a reprieve from the already stifling heat.
"What do you need, buddy?" Owen asked, tone surprisingly light-hearted and amiable.
"A field test."
Gwyn had not seen Owen roll his eyes harder, or look so deeply unamused in all the time she'd known him. While his eyes rolled, he twisted away from his superior and started to walk away. Both Gwyn and Barry shared a look, which did not go unmissed by Hoskins, who stood just past them.
"Hey!" Hoskins pushed between Barry and Gwyn and started to follow the disgruntled raptor trainer. "I've just seen they can respond to commands. We need to take the research and get it on its feet."
Barry jerked his chin in the direction of the two men and briefly quirked his brows upwards. "I'll let them have their fun. Will you?" he asked.
Gwyn chuckled and pushed off the railing, which had been burning at the skin below her elbows. She cast a look over at Hoskins and Owen and proceeded to snort. "As much as I would love to spend more time in Hoskins' presence, I'm meeting up with Masrani for lunch. Says there are 'things' he'd like to discuss."
Both stepped off the main catwalk and started to work their way towards the stairs. Barry fixed Gwyn with a look, eyes narrowed and brows pinched. He pointed a finger at her and waggled it in playful warning.
"Now, don't you get fired on us! Owen would be insufferable without you around," he teased, the corners of his mouth starting to rise.
"While any other day I'd be sure it was just a catch-up meeting, I can't say that getting fired isn't on the table," she stated flatly. The playful warning on Barry's face was quick to shift into actual concern. Gwyn raised a hand and quirked her lips in dismissal. "It's on, like, the edge of the table, but it's there. Isn't it always?"
"Well, if they try and fire you, give me a call. I'll campaign for you to stay," Barry promised, slinging an arm around her shoulders. With a broad smile, Gwyn wrapped an arm around his waist, forearm braced against the sweaty material of his shirt. They then ran into Hoskins and Owen; the former was walking backwards, talking quickly, and trying to get the latter to stop and listen.
"Look, nature gave us the most effective killing machines seventy-five-million years ago," Hoskins was saying. Gwyn and Barry came to a stop as Owen managed to pull in front of Hoskins and come to a stop in front of them. "And know we know they can take orders."
"We finally make progress and that's the first thing he says? Make a weapon?" Barry questioned incredulously. He pulled his arm from around Gwyn's shoulder and placed them on his hips.
With a grimace, Hoskins turned away and hissed, "Shit…"
"You had to have seen this coming," Gwyn pointed out, though her tone was not unkind. It was prompting, an attempt to get him to see reason. "You've been peddling this plan to us for months, and we keep telling you no. This shouldn't be a surprise, Hoskins."
"C'mon, gents, doc––it's grown-up time," he attempted to reason, the four slowly moving along the outer catwalk of the paddock. Drones can't search tunnels and caves. And they're hackable. The minute a real war breaks out all that fancy tech is gonna go dark."
"But that tech's not gonna eat them if they forget to feed it," Owen pointed out. He was squinting into the sun, which only fed into his unamused expression and tone.
"Look. Look at these creatures!" Hoskins stalled and gestured into the paddock, where the girls were lingering. He migrated to the railing and they all begrudgingly followed. "They've got millions of years of instinct in their cells, instinct that we can program. Their loyalty cannot be bought. These guys are gonna run straight into the enemy's teeth and eat them, belt buckle and all."
"What if they decide they wanna be in control?" asked Barry.
"Well, then, we remind them who is. We terminate the rogues. Promote only loyal bloodlines."
Barry's response was to scoff and then guffaw in laughter. With a shake of his head, he patted Gwyn on the shoulder and shared a look with her. She arched her eyebrows and rolled her eyes; he laughed harder, started to walk away, and cast Hoskins one last incredulous look before he left.
"What? What's so funny?"
Owen whistled and half-grinned down into the paddock.
"Y'know, that doesn't sound any better than it did last week," Gwyn said, tone light. "You really gotta work on that pitch."
Owen shrugged and lifted his hands briefly off the railing. His attention was focused on Hoskins, who looked genuinely confused as to the way everyone had reacted. "I dunno. You come here and you don't learn anything about these animals except what you want to know. We've got a paleontologist who's tried on many occasions to get you to see the bigger picture, and you just don't see it. You made them and now you think you own them."
"We do own them," Hoskins said in a matter-of-fact tone. It prompted Gwyn to groan, her eyes scrunching shut. "Extinct animals have no rights."
"They're not extinct anymore, Hoskins."
"Exactly. We're sitting on a goldmine."
Gwyn pushed away from the railing and huffed out a breath. "And that's about as much as I can handle today." She jerked her head towards the stairs, eyes locked on Owen's. "I'll see you after lunch, yeah?" He bobbed his head in a nod before he turned to accept a treat pale from Francis. Her eyes then shifted to Hoskins, and she put on a saccharine smile. "Good luck trying to get him to play along. It's been a valiant effort. Really, it has been."
With that, Gwyn trotted down the stairs, shaking her head as she went. What she'd said to Barry weighed on her heavier than she'd let on. It was entirely possible that she could be asked to resign. What with her reaction to being removed from the project, the favor she'd asked of Tim, and the possibility that someone had discerned she'd divulged some basic information to Alan, there was quite a bit to pull from. But Masrani had always appeared to be on her side, and it was always entirely possible he wanted to meet about her voiced concerns.
"It's okay," Gwyn breathed to herself. She wrenched at the handle on the driver's side door of her jeep and climbed in. "Everything's fine. Today's gonna be fine, nothing will go wrong. You got this. You'll get the meeting over with, and then you can relax."
Gwyn started up the jeep and started to make her way back towards the resort, driving towards the start of the second longest day of her life.
Afterword: I didn't know how to end this chapter, forgive the disgustingly cliché/cheesy last line. But, hey, here we are! Finally in the movie events! Let's get it rollin'!
Review Replies!
WaywardandWanderlust: I plan on bringing more of the original characters into this story as it progresses. We'll see more of Tim, that's for sure, because he's unexpectedly and completely stolen my heart. It would make me immeasurably happy to see Tim in the next JW movie, as unlikely as it is. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!
ZabuzasGirl: A little more of the girls in this one, but we'll get some more soon! Things are kicking off now! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AugustRrush: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last!
WittyCreek15: The JP survivors may not be linking up just yet, but don't worry… it'll happen ;) We'll see so much more of Tim! He's a darling and I love him desperately; and to get to write Tim and Gwyn together, in person, as adults is… all I want. And I assure you that we'll get some Ian and Gwyn moments, too! And the spat was much needed for development, methinks; they're both so strong witted and willed that it only made sense for them to not quite see eye-to-eye on something. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
UmiNight Angel Neko: Owen and Gwyn, despite their reconciliation in this chapter, definitely have a lot of talking to do. Because, despite his best efforts, Owen is still learning to fully grasp the fact that Gwyn really went through some shit; and she's still in the process of learning how to share that kind of stuff with someone who doesn't just want to hear about it for entertainment or press. Gwyn, of the two, is certainly the most hot-headed, and prone to snapping. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
AmericanNidiot: Gwyn's fist starts its inevitable trajectory towards Hoskins' face right about… now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
daydreamer1119: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!
ArtemisLuna85: Wu holds a special place in my heart as a character I love to hate. Tim holds my whole heart in his hands and can do with it as he will. I plan on going into more detail about Tim and Lex and Gwyn post Lost World; I have a very defined idea of how they've all kept in touch and lived their lives post-JP/LW. If I feel inspired/spicy, I'll write some one-off chapters and post them in the prequel story, which I was sure I was finished with, but am now unsure. We'll get more Owen and Gwyn stuff as the movie progresses! They'll have their moments, despite the chaos. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Faron Oakenshield: Their spat was but a mere mis-step. They'd been getting on so well, and were almost living in the honeymoon phase before they were even dating, that their fight had to happen. They've both got some communication issues they've gotta work on, but they'll get round to it. I wouldn't have had them dance around each other that long and then do nothing with it for ten more chapters. That would be cruel to everyone, including me. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
god of all: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!
crzychigirl343: I based Gwyn's reaction in the fact that for most of her life, people have taken her trauma and belittled or romanticised or tabloid-ized (that's not a word, but go with me here) it. She's not used to anyone who isn't her family (here meaning Alan, Ellie, Tim, Lex, Ian, Billy) being genuinely interested in truly understanding her pov on this kind of stuff. So she initially saw Owen's not seeing eye-to-eye on the situation as belittling, because she's kinda used to it. Plus, she'd been having a real shit day, so that didn't help. And Owen is still learning how to ask questions and talk about that time in her life, because it's tricky. And he can't possibly understand what it was like to have gone through what she did. Just as she wouldn't understand the shit he probably saw while he was in the navy. They're learning how to communicate on a more intimate level, and the spat revealed that there's much more to learn. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
NicoleR85: I would be lying if I said that I didn't, while hashing out Gwyn and Tim's relationship, come up with an alternate version of this story where Tim and Gwyn ended up together. I would also be lying if I said that it isn't frighteningly well developed. Because I agree with you––Tim and Gwyn (and Lex as well) grew incredibly close post-incident. How could they not have? And their close bond, despite living states away from each other, is still there. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
kitsunelover300: Wu is a character I love to hate. Because they've developed him so interestingly, and I feel like there is so much detail about him that we don't know. Like, I want to know what he did post JP, what his involvement was (if any) regarding Isla Sorna and Lost World… He's complex and I need to know more. And, really, everyone who dismissed Gwyn are gonna be eating their words once shit really kicks off. The JP survivors will have their big moment, but not till after the movie… 'cause we all know the discussion about what should happen to Isla Nublar had to start some how. Gwyn and Owen having their first fight was definitely important; and it was especially good for them to address some of their communication issues prior to the movie starting. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
WriterGirl1198: Imagine writing Gwyn and Owen's fight––it took forever, because I had finally been able to write them cutesy and then was like 'well, that was fun, time for this.' And Tim is always gonna be there to make us feel better, because Tim is a goddamn delight. There will definitely be more JP/Sorna survivor moments as the story progresses, especially after shit at Jurassic World goes down. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Raider-K; Originally the phone convo with Tim was from Gwyn's pov, but it didn't feel right. So I started to write it from Tim's and I was like 'this is it.' At the start of writing this story, I was asked who I thought, of the original characters, would come back and visit Jurassic World, and I said Tim. I completely retract that statement now. I feel like Tim would prefer if the place burned to the ground, not only because of the pain it brought him, but brought his family. How it has likely consumed his and Lex's life more than it did Gwyn's, because he is Hammond's grandkid. He had to deal with the aftermath of his death, and with people from InGen probably trying to take advantage of that… I think Tim's had one damn tough life. And you're very welcome! I'm glad that I got to tell someone what I had originally planned to write post-gala! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Makokam: So, I think I can kinda explain why Wu seems meta. I write this story in a lense that follows Gwyn most of the time. And, for Gwyn, she feels like Wu is steering Jurassic World towards another disaster. Because, as I believe we'd previously discussed, Gwyn feels like Wu had a heavy hand in what happened at JP (as she's unaware of Nedry and his involvement). I also will fully admit that I, as a writer and the author, have fallen into the trap of writing him very one-dimensional, and I regret that. But I also know that, if I was writing this story from Wu's pov, Gwyn would probably seem the same way. She would be the one who's thrown herself in the way of his work, seemingly trying to sabotage it, in the way that she sees him trying to do things that would ensure disaster. To Gwyn, Wu is sort of the 'mwa-ha-ha' evil villain in her own life story. And, honestly, part of her doesn't really want to see him as otherwise. We'll also get more into Wu's involvement being her supervisor/removing her from the project next chapter.
And, as I mentioned in other reviews, the spat would have never ruined their entire relationship. It's just a bump in the road that shows them they've got some communication stuff they need to work on. Which will be worked on once they aren't in a disaster situation.
And the meeting will also be discussed in the next chapter––while it was definitely Gwyn's primary plan to try and get shit done, it's obviously getting shoved off the burner, onto the back burner, and then onto the floor. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; and thank you, again, for your lovely, in-depth reviews!
And for your P.S. regarding the cover––kinda. I never really 'cast' faces for characters, but I sometimes find actresses/actors that fit the bill in some kind of way. For example, I have a Sherlock story where Katie McGrath is perfectly how I pictured the character. In this case, Hayley Atwell is the closest approximation I could have for Gwyn, though her hair and eyes would be different. But, as always, the cover is just for funsies, and if you see Gwyn differently, go on and picture Gwyn differently! It's all up to the imagination.
MsRosePetal: I mentioned this elsewhere in a reply, but Gwyn is definitely hot-headed, especially if you put her next to or with Owen. She's very much the kind of person who, when they get heated, will say things without thinking them through, and the last chapter is a perfect example of that. And, as can be seen in their reconciliation, Owen––while hurt––did come round to realize why she said what she did and why she acted out. And even acknowledged that he didn't go about the situation the right way. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Angel JJK: Tim and Gwyn would honestly be a forced to be reckoned with; because I imagine that cute, excitable Tim Murphy has a sassy side and can destroy someone in two well thought-out sentences. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Guest: Wu and Gwyn are like fire and oil; you can't get them anywhere near each other without something going wrong. And I'm glad you like Tim being included; I wish we'd seen more of him in the movies, and I desperately wish we knew what he was up to after we last saw him in Lost World. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
CJ/OddBall: Yeah, the downward spiral plateaued for a bit in this chapter, and now it's starting its downward descent again. Gwyn's near ballistic reaction to both Wu and Owen is definitely born of feeling like the rug has been pulled from under her. She was brought in to consult and no one is letting her do that (save for Owen and the raptor paddock boys). It definitely feels like everything is out of her hands now; and just wait till shit goes down, poor Gwyn is gonna be in a state. I adore your metaphor of Gwyn being a castaway on a sinking boat surrounded by ocean, because that nails it on the head. I love Tim. I love Joe Mazzello. It would be a crime not to include him in this story. (Also, I high-key adore The Pacific for about fifty reasons I could discuss for hours [but am never able to]. If you enjoy his work and haven't seen either Undrafted or Dear Sidewalk, I highly recommend!) Thanks again! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
lolistarkiller: We'll finally get to see Masrani next chapter and get the whole low-down on the situation. Gwyn definitely has a friend in Masrani, who has taken a liking to her as he has to Owen. Though, as a businessman, he does still have to take everything into account and he can't play favorites (though he seems to want to). But we'll get all the dirt on what was happening behind the scenes regarding her missing notes, whether or not her being removed from the project was allowed, and how Wu figures into it all. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
And thank you to those that have added this story to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!
That's it for now! Life got in the way and prevented me from getting the chance to actually post this. I'll be in Louisiana for the next couple of days, so there'll probably be a lull, but I hope to get something up next week. Thanks again everyone!
Let's stomp right into the movie!
~Mary