"I love it." Maisie adjusted the sleeves of her dress. "You don't-"

Claire positioned her phone, snapping a picture of the yellow dress with beehives on it. It was the third one Maisie had tried on, but Claire had noticed the extra twirl she'd taken in the mirror. They would be getting that one for sure. Claire had secured an outfit for her conference tomorrow, and was spending their first day in Carson City to Maisie's benefit. Leaving Owen behind had brought them both down and Claire was using the age-old tactic of distraction to lift them back up.

How has a kid never been inside a mall before? Claire remained baffled, recalling Maisie's gape as they'd entered the five-story structure, a few blocks from their hotel. They'd tried Japanese at the food court, browsed a bookstore, attempted to win a stuffed animal out of the rigged claw games and now carried shopping bags that boasted various clothing lines. The whirl of activity gave Claire new adrenaline, watching Maisie experience all the new moments.

"Can that be enough?" Maisie slumped out of her pose and Claire lowered her phone. "Of the dresses or the pictures?"

Maisie laughed, but the fatigue stayed in her eyes. Not only that, but she appeared flushed.

"It has been a long day." Claire agreed, given their non-stop pace. It was all an abrupt change after Owen's isolated mountaintop. Uh man, had she overwhelmed her? Fed her with sensory overload? Was that a thing; a harmful thing? Claire put her phone away, gathering her purse and bags. "Let's get back to the hotel."

"Okay Claire." Maisie headed for the dressing room. Claire waited the few minutes, giving the girl a peculiar stare when she came back out. "We're back to 'Claire' now?"

Maisie blushed as they took the dress to the cashier. "It just slipped out; you and Owen were frazzling me."

Claire smiled at the cashier and paid for the dress. "Blame Owen when he's not here to defend himself. Clever."

Maisie groaned, sticking close as they once again joined the crowds that choked the halls of the mall. "Did you two have a bet going or something?"

Claire pretended to think about it, before giving a sheepish nod. "Owen owes me twenty bucks when he gets back."

Maisie's eyebrows and expression perked. "When will that be?"

Honestly? Claire wondered. "When this it over."

Maisie heard the drag in her voice and her chin dropped. "I'm sor-"

"Hey." Claire halted a few feet from the escalator so she faced Maisie. "We're done with that. Right?"

Maisie's nod was hesitant. Claire brushed the girl's brown hair back and brought her chin up. "You're more confident then this and I want to see you act like it. We make mistakes, Maisie, choices based on what we know. We fix them by making better choices in the future."

"I know."

"Then stop with the 'sorrys', ok." Claire stared her down, until Maisie nodded. Boldly this time.

}{}{}{}{

"Franklin?" Owen spoke over Sergeant Terry's overview of the base. Franklin Webb looked up through his wide glasses and relief washed over his scrawny face. He stood up from the row of laptops he was working at with six others. "Owen! Great to see you."

"They got you too, huh?" Owen laughed as they shook hands. Franklin looked at Sergeant Terry, gulped and the timidness returned. "I was… invited in when the Internet nearly crashed." He paused, looking unsure. "I'm… allowed to tell him this, right?"

Sergeant Terry looked mildly irritated as he nodded. "Yes. Grady's going to be working on our location and reconnaissance team. We'll be using your team's data on that."

Franklin breathed easier. "Okay. Good call."

Owen forced himself not to laugh. This poor little shrimp had probably been jumping at every order and drill happening on this base. It was a basic set up of six tents; two for sleeping, one for main operations. Another was the mess hall and the one they were in right now for communications. He couldn't lie though; a familiar face was welcoming.

"We've started a data mining operation with Webb filtering the results to us as fast as our analysts can punch out." Sergeant Terry gestured to the laptops, most of which displayed several video URLs at once. Franklin nodded, coming to stand next to his. "Social media's getting slammed with home videos of dinosaurs in backyards, parks, pretty much wherever they want…" he heaved a sigh. "and then the protest videos."

Franklin clicked on a desktop file to show a lengthy list of URLs, alphabetized by state and county. He clicked on one from Illinois. A camera panned a half-sitting, half-standing crowd outside a city hall. Colorful signs and posters jumped for the chance at screen time.

"They deserve life!" someone yelled outside the frame. Franklin looked back at Owen, brow raised before Terry asked. "See the problem?"

Owen nodded; Claire had been following a few groups, holding him aware of the parallel battlefronts they'd be facing.

"By applying certain parameters," Franklin sat down, fingers snapping like lightening over the keys. "We have the computers continuously downloading any social media involving dinosaurs. Our job is to divide the protests from the actual sightings. Once that's done, we send the useful ones to operations' hard drives, where they're able to pinpoint their movements."

"We'll be better equipped to coordinate attacks that way." Sergeant Terry stated.

"Sounds like a lot." Owen's stomach cringed at the thought of looking through any of it. Terry confirmed his fears, turning away from their row of geeks. "You'll be helping analyzing the data that we get, mostly filling in the blanks where our data may fail us. You've got three days to catch up on."

He was already walking away and Owen knew he was expected to follow. He hung back though, eyeing Franklin. "Anything on-"

"Blue." Franklin kept his voice down. "Nothing yet."

What had he been hoping for? Owen nodded his thanks, starting after the sergeant.

"See you at dinner?" Franklin suggested hopefully. He leaned in a little to show off his begging eyes. "Please say yes. I don't know how to talk to anyone here!"

Owen clapped Franklin on the shoulder. "See you at eighteen-hundred, kid."

"Great." Franklin smiled. "Uh… wh-when's that?"

Owen chuckled on his way to operations tent with Terry. There he was presented with maps; topographical, physical, and road atlases of every section of the state, taped in duplicate over a table and bulletin board. Sergeant Terry was giving him the rest of the evening to look the maps over and note the movements they had marked so far. He was introduced- briefly- to a few of the fellow officers. Including the genius, Lt. Colonel Placer, who had gotten Claire shot. Owen forced a curt nod at the man, who was as rough looking without his helmet and field gear.

"We've had troops in the army, the coast guard, and the National Guard tasked with 'herding' them away from the metropolitan areas." Placer explained, tapping a few key points that had been marked in the last 24 hours. "Basically whatever wooded area is the closest. It's keeping them there that's proving difficult."

"Have you tried driving them to the nearest body of water?" Owen suggested. "It's the first element an animal will make itself familiar with and stick close to. Lake, river, whatever."

Lt. Colonel Placer eyed Owen. "That an InGen guarantee?"

Owen wasn't fazed. "You're not asking InGen, you're asking me."

"There a difference?" Placer snorted.

"Lieutenant, you may go now." A look from Sergeant Terry and Placer left the tent. Terry went on to point out what progress had been made within the last three days. Each dinosaur had its own symbol and color, a trail of each pinned across the maps. Owen went between the legend and the dinosaurs marked across the state. There were six confirmed pteranodons, seeming to form a pattern between California, Nevada, and into Baja. He held back a smirk. Staying where they know there's a water supply.

The T-rex was rampaging through Death Valley National Park; lovely. Owen shuffled the map further down the state, impressed how far south some of the dinosaurs had gotten. The stegosaurus had last raged its way through a suburban area west of Fresno. The triceratops and its baby had already been corralled before reaching Yuba City; the least threatening, considering. But…

"Why are you still holding it?" Owen asked, tapping the photo taken of the prehistoric pair. "And an allosaurus? Your men were all hair triggers on the gallmimus earlier."

Sergeant Terry gave a disgruntled nod. "You heard Congress when they made the announcement. Co-existence is impossible, sure. But they also can't ignore the impact that bringing dinosaurs back to life has had in the field of genetic engineering."

"Meaning?" Owen eyed the sergeant head on. Terry's expression was military-grade stone, giving away nothing. "Meaning that Lockwood's sanctuary might not go to waste."

Owen lowered the map he'd been holding, thoughts going to Claire's video conference. They'd be discussing the future of the DPG… what future did it have however, without dinosaurs?

"They still think it's a good idea to keep these things alive." Owen stated, fingers curling on the edge of the table. Terry didn't answer. Somehow, the silence, gave Owen better clarity, letting the pieces fall into their obvious places.

"I don't envy them, the 'generals' of the capital." Terry admitted, hands clasped behind him, eyes scrolling the maps on the bulletin board. "They continue to worry about what'll please people, rather then save them."

Owen felt the weight of those words. He had served and knew, if even one pencil pusher stood in the field for ten minutes… He sighed. The press conference had either been a lie, or Claire had missed a few details. Which was unlikely. Owen didn't consider this stretching, looking for a connection to the 'confinement' of the dinosaurs and Claire's upcoming meeting. It was more like predicting the next steps in an all too predictable pattern of human behavior.

"You realize that all information shared here is classified." Terry's commanding tone returned. "What we need from you is intel on how to migrate, getting them where we need them… including that raptor of yours."

Owen had already thought plenty of running into Blue. Just like on the island, he was the only one that could get near her. Course, there was the matter of finding her first. Franklin said they'd found nothing, and the maps backed that up. Meaning that she was evading. And she was doing a good job of it.

She adapted pretty quick… Owen couldn't help thinking.

"Anything you can produce tonight will be helpful." Terry advised, heading for the tent flap. "A secondary headquarters is being set up outside San Jose. You and I will be taking a charter flight out there in the morning."

"I think I'd be better here-" Owen looked up, but found Sergeant Terry gone. Sure, orders were orders and weren't to be questioned. Ugh.

Aside from the work and stiff sleep on a cot, Owen measured the next fourteen hours by the meals he took- with Franklin- and the texts he sent to Claire. In turn, Claire sent him photos of Maisie's first mall trip. He had to smile at the kid's hamish poses. When he didn't have notifications and unknown numbers irritating him. This was the longest he'd had his phone on in a while and his inbox was beyond full.

His first plan of ignoring it failed, waking up the next morning to fifty new messages and emails. Owen deleted most of this junk on the drive with Sergeant Terry to the airstrip along Lake Tahoe. He watched the Sierra Nevada range grow smaller, the cluster of peaks hiding his cabin- and the sinoceratops that occupied its backyard. He really should've just killed it, saved some tax dollars. Only Maisie had been with him every time the notion had entered his head. Owen couldn't bring himself to expose her to that.

So what's she going to think when she sees the news and dead dino carcasses? Owen put his phone down with a frustrated sigh.

"I saw you… with the velociraptors and with Blue."

Those had been her first words to him, seeing him work with dinosaurs, bond with them. Ultimately, Owen guessed that he didn't want to taint Maisie's image of him. When had that concern started? Owen watched the mountains again. Probably when you started hoping she'd call you 'dad'. Can't believe Claire got the first-

"We're here." Sergeant Terry pulled Owen from his thoughts and he followed the army man out of the truck and into the hanger. One plane rested in the corner, another sat on the runway, roaring and ready for flight. Owen adjusted his duffel on his shoulder, watching as Sergeant Terry checked a manifest with the guy at the corner office. Owen eyed their plane; small, yet sleek. It looked expensive, compared to the one they'd ridden out to Isla Nublar.

"Army's giving out pretty sweet rides these days." Owen remarked as Terry came back. Terry glimpsed at the plane, shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. We're taking off in ten minutes. They're finishing a systems check."

That brought Owen to notice the two men outside the plane. Standing on either side of the steps leading up to the door. A weird feeling caught him in the stomach. He eyed Terry. "Casual Friday?"

"What?" Terry looked back at Owen, who jutted his chin at the men. "You said this' an army-issued flight. Where're their uniforms?"

Owen didn't know what made him ask; only that it seemed odd. But he didn't miss the change in Terry's countenance. The sergeant moved, but Owen moved a second faster. He caught Terry's hand from reaching his firearm and rammed the sergeant's chin with his shoulder. Owen's duffel dragged him down and he saw the men by the plane moving in. He snapped Terry's wrist back, getting the gun for himself. Terry gave a harsh jab, right into Owen's bandaged side. Owen grunted, kicking Terry back. He spun and dashed for the door, only five yards away. Terry left the keys in the car. I'll get there and peel out!

The guy from the office emerged. Owen blasted two shots, making him retreat. The hanger exploded with echoes of returning fire, hot ricochets hitting the doorframe. Suddenly there was a beefy-armed man blocking it. And his escape!

Owen skidded to a stop, gun trained on the guy's chest. "Don't make me shoot you."

The guy, with wild-cut hair to match wild gray eyes, only looked amused. Shouts came from behind, not in English, but in Russian. That checked into a memory in Owen's mind; a Russian had bought the Indoraptor at the auction! He fired, but the man shot forward and blasted Owen's solar plexus with a raw surge of power. Owen had to take a knee, gasping and clutching his side. A few seconds, and he felt blood seeping through the bandages and scabs.

"Hesitation costs you, American." The beefcake blockade chuckled. "But thanks for making it fun."

Owen collected himself, looking up. "Fun, huh?"

He propelled an uppercut to the man's cocky jaw, hearing teeth crack. He wanted to run- the door was three feet away! But there were five weapons on him now and he wouldn't get far with his side.

"Mr. Grady."

His name came from an older man in a suit and the only one sans gun. He carried wide features under slick and graying hair, a cane… and tons of pompous authority as he walked up. He extended a hand. "Let's try to keep this civil, shall we? Kassian Gavrill."

Owen didn't take his hand, wrapping his head around the situation. His eyes fell on Terry, who was working the pain out of his shoulder. "Were those orders even real?"

"They were my orders, Mr. Grady." The Gavrill character lowered his hand. "A window of opportunity has presented itself. I should like your help in taking full advantage of it."

Did corporate bad guys read dictionaries in their spare time? Owen didn't say anything, running possibilities through his mind.

"Unless you need to discuss it with your wife first." Gavrill spoke into Owen's silence. Owen's fingers curled in to feel the metal of his wedding band. "Whatever threat you're thinking, don't make it. Because I will kill you."

Gavrill backed up a step, palms out. "I don't wish to involve them anymore then you do. But there is the matter of your cooperation."

He said 'them'.Owen's stomach dropped, eyes back on Terry. Now these guys knew about Maisie… if nothing else, he was going to squeeze the life out of the so-called soldier.

"Whatever you think I know, you're wrong." Owen regained his composure, even while his side protested. Gavrill gave a cold chuckle. "You underestimate your value, Mr. Grady. Shall we?"

Owen hardly had a choice as he was shoved toward the jet.