Hi guys! Sorry this took so long, but I did TONS of research to try and make this as plausible as possible. Lord help me. Hope you like it.

Mayday

It's not like in the movies, Liz thought. She could feel the sedative wear off just as she was rolled into the hospital. It wasn't dreamlike where suddenly you wake up after everything has been fixed, heavily medicated for pain. There was no, "how long was I out?" While she dramatically fanned herself.

She didn't wake in stages. All her senses came flooding back at once, a cacophony of noise, light, and pain. So much pain. Liz was positive it would've hurt less if the damn raptor had taken her arm. And her head, Lord, it felt like someone had taken a hot, serrated knife to her skull. It radiated on her right side, somewhere around her ear. She could feel her pulse in it, hammering like a drum.

Her chest was the least painful, though when she breathed she could feel pricks of pain where Charlie had gotten her claws through her Kevlar. Liz sent up a silent thank you for whoever thought of the stupid vests. Without it, she probably wouldn't be alive to feel the pain.

The whole inventory took all of 30 seconds, and when Liz finally dared to open her eyes, she was being wheeled into a trauma bay. Owen was hovering over her, fighting against the sea of doctors and nurses working to assess Liz's injuries. His eyes met hers and Liz could see the shock and relief pass over him.

"Ain't dead yet." She ground out, trying to calm him. Her throat was so dry it felt like her vocal chords were sandpaper rubbing together.

One of the doctors hovered into view. Both his touch and voice were gentle. "Elizabeth? Good you're with us. I know this sucks but I'm going to need you to try and stay that way. There's going to be a lot of people asking lots of questions. Just go with it and we'll get you on the way to being good as new."

People poked and prodded Liz until she wanted to scream. Somewhere along the line they must have given her something for the pain as she realized the searing heat had dulled to a low ache. Nurses swirled around her, drawing blood and sending her for this or that test. The same doctor from the when Liz had first arrived (Dr. Varga, she noted when his badge swung into view) came in to help move her back onto the hospital bed when her final test, a CT scan, was finished.

"No internal damage." He announced in an overly cheery tone as he wheeled her towards an ER bay. "We're going to have to keep you for a few days. Observation, antibiotics...the works. You'll have some scars and a hell of a story to tell."

"I could do without both." Liz grumbled, making him laugh. He was older, in his mid 60s, with silver wings in his shockingly dark hair. Liz thought the thick rimmed glasses and lab coat gave his entire look the mad scientist vibe. He said something in a low voice to a nurse when they got to the room and started to raise Liz's bed.

She hissed in pain at the adjustment, but was grateful to not be flat on her back anymore. Relief flooded over her as Owen's form filled the doorway. In all the hustle she hadn't even realized he was missing. Liz hated hospitals, and having the familiar face eased her anxiety. He stood with the same confident stance he had that morning, but his eyes looked lost when they met hers. He was carrying two clear plastic cups filled with water and breezed past a nurse to press one into her good hand.

"You sounded thirsty." He gave a half-hearted grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I couldn't find anything stronger."

In a swirl of lab coats, Dr. Varga slipped the water from Liz's hand and handed it back to Owen. "No water yet. Nothing until after surgery."

"SURGERY!?" Owen and Liz said together, both looking equally worried.

"You said I just needed antibiotics and observation." Liz accused.

"Your wounds are full of dirt and whatever else could possibly be on a Velociraptor's talons." Dr. Varga replied calmly, as if speaking to a small child. He turned to Owen. "Is that right? Talon?"

"Claws." Owen corrected, deadpan. He put the cups down on a nearby counter and ran a hand through his hair. "How much surgery are we talking, Doc? How bad is she?"

Dr. Varga opened his mouth, but Liz beat him to it. "SHE is going to be fine, thank you. No internal damage." She turned her attention to Dr. Varga, trying to reason her way out of surgery. "I don't need to be put under. Just patch me up."

Dr. Varga blinked before giving Liz a serious look. "Trust me, you're going to want to be under for this."

She sighed and sank deeper into the bed. "Two tours! Two fucking tours and not a scratch, and here I am nearly taken out by an oversized turkey." She looked between the two men and could see there was no way out of this one. With a curled lip Liz gave into the inevitable. "Fine."

Dr. Varga looked relieved and with a quick explanation took his leave to get ready.

The room filled with uncomfortable silence for what seemed like an eternity before Owen lowered himself into a chair on the wall in a heap. It startled Liz, the movement uncharacteristically vulnerable for him. "Do I tell you to go fuck yourself now or later?" She said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Owen leaned forward and put his head in his hands for a minute. He rubbed his face quickly as if to pull himself together before sliding the chair closer to her bed and looking at her. "You can tell me that every day for the rest of my life if it makes you happy. This one's on me." When Liz looked confused he elaborated. "I shouldn't have had anyone in the girl's pen with me. InGen rules be damned."

"This isn't your fault." Liz's words came out harsh, but she laid a hand on his arm to soften them. "They're animals, Owen. I knew this could happen the day I signed on." She jumped a little when he twisted his arm and slid it back so her hand was clasped in his firmly.

"I knew better, though." He said, watching their hands. Hers were small, yes, but in no way dainty. He could feel little callouses on the ball of her hand and her nails were short and colorless. They suited her and her no nonsense style. Working hands, like his. "Someone almost got killed by one of my animals." He said at length.

"Well I'm not dead." Liz said tersely and squeezed his hand until he looked at her. "I'm going to be fine." He gave her that look that said he didn't believe her, making Liz sigh. "For starters you can be here when I get out of surgery. We'll figure out how to settle the score after that, deal?"

Owen gave one of his signature nods that moved his whole body and seemed to relax, falling into a comfortable silence with Liz, not letting go of her hand.

Her scream was still in his ears.

Owen sat in the waiting room and replayed that moment for what was possibly the hundredth time. To anyone watching from the outside he was calm, idly thumbing through a tabloid magazine. Inside though, his mind raced. What the hell had gone wrong?

He had underestimated the raptors, that's what. He thought they truly respected him as Alpha, that they wouldn't try anything without his okay. It had all happened so fast he couldn't stop it. Charlie had whizzed by and landed on whoever was behind him. And hearing Liz's scream had made his blood run cold.

She was a fighter. He could see her kicking and holding off the raptor in his mind, superimposed on whatever page he had landed on. How she had screamed for them to shoot, and how men twice her size had frozen in panic and fear. It would haunt him for a long time that he had been one of them. Owen "always has a plan" Grady, had been lost. He had done the first thing that came to his mind; put himself between Liz and the raptor. And Blue (thank heaven for Blue) had decided that playing with the Alpha just wasn't a good idea that day. Without her, Owen wasn't sure exactly how much more Charlie was willing to test.

He could see the blood running down Liz's face, down her arm. He could see the color draining, her eyes going in and out of focus. All of the basic medic training he had was forgotten, and he could do nothing more than scream for someone to help.

He threw down the tabloid, making several of the heads in the room turn. Word traveled fast that Liz had been injured, and a small army had gathered in the waiting room. The little brunet, Shelby he remembered, had deftly taken over as the main contact. She filtered all of those waiting for Liz into one area, relaying information and making sure everyone was okay.

She came to sit beside him and held out a styrofoam cup. The coffee inside looked like sludge and had the aroma to boot, but Owen took it all the same with a grunt of thanks.

"I should be thanking you." Shelby's voice was soft, "You looked out for a very good friend today."

"That's not exactly how it went down." Owen took a swig of the black sludge, shivering a little and putting it on the table in front of him. "God that stuff's horrible."

Shelby gave a shrug. "Hospital coffee isn't the best, but it'll keep you going." She looked at Owen like she could see into his soul. "So you're the one that riled up Liz when she first got here."

Owen gave a grin. "Define riled up."

Shelby stretched, the cuff of her skinny jeans riding up a bit when she pointed her toes. "Well she told you to fuck off for one." She said nonchalantly as she adjusted her pant legs, making Owen bark out a laugh. "Liz is a very complex person. She's hurting in a lot of ways."

"Oh yeah?" Owen picked up the sludge cup, deciding that Shelby was right and bad coffee was better than no coffee. "Gonna let me in on what makes her so complex?"

Shelby tapped a finger to her nose in thought. "Mmmmm. Not really." Her smile was sincere when she turned it on Owen. "It's not my place to tell someone's story. But I think she's trying to prove herself out here. To who is beyond me." She took a sip of her own cup and pulled a face before setting it back down. "You're right, that stuff is horrible."

"I don't know why I'm here." Owen looked out one of the large windows and wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or Shelby. "I don't know her."

"No, you don't." Shelby replied at length. "Do you want to?"

"That," Owen said, motioning with his cup, "is a question for the ages."

Every head turned when Dr. Varga came into the room. He gave a bright smile and chose to address everyone at once.

"She's out of surgery." He announced, getting a mix of claps and audible sighs of relief. He motioned for Owen, who met him at the door.

"She's in recovery now." His voice was softer, for Owen's ears only. "Before she went out she asked me to, and I quote: 'tell meat head to keep his promise.'" Owen looked down at his feet and smiled, "She wanted me there when she woke up."

Dr. Vargas gave a knowing look. "Well we can make that happen. Come with me Mr. Grady."

Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed. As always, it means the world to me.