Owen time. Enjoy. :)

Chapter 3

It was a two hour drive out to where Owen was building his cabin in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. It wasn't the first time Claire had been to this plot of land. The purchase, an impulsive buy that Owen later claimed he just couldn't pass up, was a sore point in their relationship.

Relationship. Now that was actually a tricky word. Three years post Jurassic World and Claire still didn't even know how to define what she and Owen had (or no longer had – she wasn't sure). It wasn't something they had ever really discussed. It was more just something that happened.

Owen buying the lot probably should've been the catalyst for the two to have a real conversation about it. But it hadn't. While Claire hadn't been particularly happy about the land purchase, she hadn't been mad either. And when Owen talked about storing his trailer out there, she had started to think maybe it was even a good purchase. That now he wouldn't feel the same need to just go out on the road for days on end. That he'd have a place to escape to. He could still go off-grid like he wanted, but she'd know where to find him.

But the odd weekend or week on his lot soon turned into every weekend. And then he started talking about building a cabin. About the angle he wanted to build it on, so that it would be just right for capturing the sunrise over the mountains and sunset over the lake. He kept insisting it would be small, with a single bedroom and a loft area for any occasional guests. "Mostly open floor plan," he had said, "you'll love it." She had smiled and nodded as he'd daydream, not expecting it to turn into anything. Then a few weeks later, floor-plans started appearing and she had realized that he was serious.

"Who's going to build it?" she had asked him.

"Me."

"You?"

"Don't look so surprised," Owen had chuckled. "I built a lot of the additions at my bungalow. I'm good with tools."

Once he started working on it, the weekends away became weeks away. And then, at some point, it became clear that he was living at his lot and visiting her and not the other way around.

He still kept stuff at her place. But it was her place, now.

When they'd moved to Oakland, it had made more sense to buy than rent, as they'd moved there specifically because of the DPG. At the time, Claire was the one with money in the bank. She had sold her condo in San Diego and was able to put down money on a new place. Owen had been still waiting (and hoping) to see a settlement cheque from InGen. So, she'd been the one who bought the place.

They had, however, looked together. Claire had thought they had chosen together. And, more importantly, she had thought that they had bought together. It wasn't about where the down payment came from. Not to her. It wasn't until Owen bought his lot and started openly referring to it as "his" place and their home as "hers" that she realized she was wrong. That while she may have seen it as theirs, he hadn't.

While Owen kept stuff at her place, Claire didn't have anything at his. As it was, all he had out there was a trailer. He'd never suggested she leave stuff there. Well, to be fair, he'd rarely suggested she even go out there, not after he had become more serious about his cabin idea.

It had been a while since she'd visited, and as she pulled up to the lot now, she took it all in. On one side was his trailer and on the other was his truck. In between, stood the frame of the cabin and Owen on a ladder working away on the roof. She could see that the small fire pit he'd been using had been built up, with a couple of big logs placed strategically for sitting. The thought of who else may have been sitting out there with him crossed her mind, but she pushed it away. There were stacks of wood piled neatly. And on a table, tools were piled up around an incomplete model of the cabin.

It was quiet out there, away from the noise of the cities, with the cabin sitting off a lonely backroad outside the nearby small town. She knew he must have heard her car pull up, but he kept his head down, pounding away at nails.

"Hey, Owen," Claire called out, probably not as loud as needed. But she wasn't sure she really wanted to be there. She didn't have any hopes of the conversation ahead going well. Their last one hadn't and that had been a few weeks ago.

He didn't respond, and as she stepped closer, she could hear him singing to himself. She didn't recognize the tune, but he had a habit of making up his own songs as he went.

"Oh, Time, she is a freight train chugging

Oh, stalling time is, too

When the light at the end of the tunnel Is growing small behind you

I still love you in the morning"

"Owen!" This time Claire shouted it out, finally gaining his attention. She watched as he lowered the hammer, and could just barely make out his "Oh, boy" comment before he turned to face her.

"Hey," she smiled shyly up at him. Now that he had acknowledged she was there, the reality of what she'd come to tell him was hitting her. Oh, this was definitely not going to go well.

"Back for more, huh?" Owen raised an eyebrow in question.

Claire refused to engage. So their last conversation hadn't ended well. That didn't mean she was there to fight. "Can I buy you a beer?" she offered instead, focusing on what she knew he liked.

"Did you bring them or do we gotta, like, go somewhere?" Owen quirked an eyebrow, resting his hands on his hips.

They relocated to the bar in the nearby town. Owen had insisted that he'd drive his own truck, saying that he had things to pick up and he might as well do that at the same time. Claire hadn't thought it was worth fighting over. If the conversation went as badly as she thought it might go, she wasn't sure they'd be able to handle being in the same car going back to his cabin.

As they'd entered the bar, Owen had nodded at the bartender, raising two fingers, to which the bartender had nodded in return. Moments after they'd settled in a booth at the side of the room, two bottles of beer appeared before them.

Claire had just looked at him and said, "You come here often?" but Owen had dismissed her with a wave of his hand, distracting her with a question about the drive out.

Somehow, Claire wasn't sure exactly how, they ended up talking about their last conversation, and before she knew it, she was laughing.

"I'm sorry. Seriously? I can't believe you think that you left me!"

"Replay the conversation in your head. You said, 'You wanna go live in your van, like a bum? Go ahead, Owen.' And I said, 'Okay.'" Owen was looking at Claire intently. He wasn't laughing, and it caused her own laughter to stop.

"So, how is that you leaving me?" Claire questioned.

"Because I left. I. Left. You," Owen insisted.

"You left because I told you to," Claire rolled her eyes.

"And then, I left. Because you didn't wanna live in a van on the side of the road," Owen replied.

"No. No, no, no," Claire shook her head. That's not how it happened, or not how she thought it had happened, at least.

"Remember?"

"Because you wouldn't let me drive the damn van for five minutes," Claire insisted, leaning forward across the table.

"I'm chivalrous. What can I do?" Owen leaned back in his chair, smug grin back on his face as he gave a shrug.

"You are so stubborn." Claire shook her head.

"Well, look at you. You're saving the world," Owen gave her a nod, a proud smile flickering across his face before disappearing.

"I'm trying, at least. You can't just run away from everything, Owen." Claire sighed.

"So you're what… Dating an accountant now? An insurance actuary? Your skin looks nice," Owen gave her a glance over, nodding to himself. "Dermatologist?"

"Owen…" Claire groaned. Outwardly, she worked hard to keep her expression relaxed. Like she was taking it all as a joke. But inside… Inside she was panicking. Did he really think she was dating other people? Did that mean they had broken up? Or was this another facet of their undefined relationship – you can't break up something that had never existed in the first place. Oh god, did that mean he was dating other people? She could feel the blood starting to drain from her face.

"Does he check you for moles?" Owen gave her a cheeky grin.

"Stop." The command was both for Owen and herself. She needed her brain to stop going down the path it was travelling. She didn't want to think of him with someone else. What if he didn't want her stuff in the RV because another woman's stuff was there?

"A ventriloquist?"

"This is not why we're here, okay?" Claire rested her elbows on the table, her fingers rubbing at her temples. She was going to give herself a migraine at this rate. She just needed to get through this conversation. Tell him what she came here to say and then get the hell out of there.

"Fine, why are we here?" Owen took a sip of his beer, giving her his full attention.

"Something's going on," Claire stated. Off of Owen's confused look, she elaborated. "On the island – Nublar. I had a … I got a call that Benjamin Lockwood wanted to see me. I went up there about a week ago. I had a nice conversation with him, but I had a … weird one with the guy who runs his foundation, Eli Mills."

"Lockwood's little flunky," Owen nodded. "Yeah, I know him."

Claire looked a little surprised at that, but continued on. "I left the meeting feeling like something was … off. I don't think he was telling me the truth. Or the whole truth. I think people have been back on Nublar. There have been other signs, Lowery found a picture…"

"So? That's not your problem."

"The whole point of the DPG is to protect the dinosaurs," Claire rolled her eyes. "We need to know what's going on there."

"How are yo–" Owen cut himself off, eyes widening, as he leaned across the table towards her. "Tell me you're not."

"I'm going."

"Don't."

"I don't have a choice."

"What? Of course you have a choice."

"So, what, I should just build my own cabin, play pool, and drink beer all day while these dinosaurs go extinct?" Claire looked at him, exasperated.

"Yeah," Owen shrugged. "I like pool." He leaned back casually, taking another sip of his beer.

"Blue is alive," Claire stated.

"Jesus, Claire!" Owen slammed the bottle onto the table, glad he'd swallowed before she said anything.

"You raised her, Owen. You spent years of your life working with her. You're just gonna let her die?" Claire pleaded with him.

"Well, yeah," Owen looked at her like she was insane. And, to be honest, she must be, somewhat anyway. Who else would voluntarily go back to that island? She almost missed it, the way he could barely swallow after he said that, like there was a lump in his throat.

"Come on, you're a better man than you think you are," Claire sighed, fiddling with her beer bottle, pulling at the label.

"You should write fortune cookies," Owen quipped, falling back on jokes.

"Forget it, I … We're leaving on a charter flight tomorrow morning. I … I don't know what's going on with us Owen, but I… I just wanted you to know." Claire stood up, throwing some bills on the table to cover the beer. She hesitated, but only for a second, before walking out of the bar.

Owen remained seated at the table, his own fingers now peeling back the label on his beer. He had to fight the urge to pick it up and throw it across the room. "God dammit!"

x x x

He had wanted to get drunk. He had wanted to sit in the bar and have the beers just keep on coming. If he was black out drunk he wouldn't have to think about anything. Instead, he could pass out and by the time he'd wake up tomorrow morning, it'd be too late. She'd be gone. He had really really wanted to.

But he didn't. If he got drunk, he'd need someone else to drive him home as it was too far to walk. And then he'd have to deal with all the questions, because he'd need them to come get him the following morning so he could get his truck. It was too much work to get drunk at the bar. Instead, he'd slowly finished his one beer before heading out. He'd made sure he had waited long enough that there would be no chance that Claire was still in the parking lot when he left. He couldn't handle another interaction with her, not today.

He'd tried to work when he got home. He really wanted to get the roof done. The cabin was already taking far longer than he'd planned for, and he was weeks behind even though he'd been spending most of his time working on it. He had started by going out to the cabin for weekends, but found his progress was too slow. By the time he got himself sorted and ready to work, it would feel like the weekend was already over. So he'd started coming out for a week at a time.

Owen hadn't realized what was happening at first. He honestly thought he was just going out to work on the cabin. He was constantly in and out of the local hardware store and lumber yard. And the bar – which was also the only decent restaurant in the town. He became a familiar face in the community and he'd started to make friends. Every time he arrived back at the cabin, he could feel the stress that seemed to build up in the city rolling off of him. And then, one day, it hit him – no one here ever asked or talked about the dinosaurs.

He made it a point to never bring up the dinosaurs in any conversation. He didn't want to talk about them. But by nature of being involved in the Jurassic World incident, and then by being essentially glued to Claire's side during the fallout, he'd become front page news alongside her. For a while, it felt like he couldn't look at the newspapers and magazines at checkout stands without seeing himself. People would recognize him on the street or in a store and want to talk or get his autograph or a picture with him. It was overwhelming and he found he just went out less and less trying to avoid it all.

He did have to give Claire credit. If it had been bad for him, it was ten times worse for her. She just seemed to be able to handle it a hell of a lot better than him. When the fallout, or at least the immediate aftermath that they were involved in, started to clear, he'd started talking longingly about his bungalow. About the privacy and quiet and solitude of it. About how much he missed it.

It had actually been her idea that they get away for a bit. That now that they were free to leave the immediate area, they take off and find some of that peace and quiet. He was sure she meant renting a cabin or something. But he'd found an old RV a couple of days later and brought it home. He wasn't sure what her reaction would be, but she'd actually taken it really well. He still couldn't believe that he'd convinced her to live out of it for six months. Six months! They'd travelled all over the place. They'd gone down into Mexico for a bit, before wandering through the states until they ended up in Wisconsin for a couple of weeks. They had stayed just close enough to spend some time with Zach and Gray, but not close enough to for it to be all day everyday. They'd even gone up into Canada for a bit, touring through the Rocky Mountains and out to the west coast. They'd made it a point to ignore the Badlands and Drumheller. They'd had enough dinosaurs.

At some point and somehow, Claire had connected with Zia. Through a message board or Facebook or something. While Claire had not lost her addiction to her phone, Owen would be happy to never have one. She had started talking about the dinosaurs that they left behind. About what was happening to them. Would they still be alive? Were they managing to find enough food? The next thing he knew, she was floating around the idea of starting a nonprofit, a charity, that would be focused on the dinosaurs. That they didn't have anyone looking out for them, and she doubted Masrani Global was going to do anything, unless they came up with a way to make a profit.

As her idea progressed, the Dinosaur Protection Group was formed. Soon, Claire was no longer attached to just her phone. Now she had a laptop and a tablet and all three seemed to always be within arms reach. Claire had started suggesting camping locations because they had wifi, or asking to stop in a coffee shop for a few hours so she could get caught up.

In hindsight, he should've expected that their time in the RV was rapidly coming to an end. That Claire wasn't going to be able to continue to be on the road. She couldn't effectively take on her new mission with only sporadic access. He'd tried to convince her not to place the headquarters in San Francisco. That there were other places, places closer to nature, that would work just as well. She'd told him that they had narrowed it down to three – DC, San Diego and San Francisco. And he'd had to concede, that with that list, San Francisco was his choice, too. When they'd started looking for a place to live, it quickly became apparent that even with the money Claire had saved up and would get from selling her San Diego condo, living directly within San Francisco was too costly. Additionally, Claire was starting up a nonprofit. It wasn't like this job was going to be paying her anywhere close to what she'd made as Operations Manager. When they'd settled on Oakland, Claire had kept talking about the easy access to the mountains, the beach and the redwood forests. He knew she was doing that for him, so he'd tried to be grateful.

The problem was, he'd been loving the freedom that exploring had enabled for them. No deadlines. Nowhere they were required to be. Just him, Claire, and the open road. And Claire? Well, he'd never seen her as relaxed as during those middle months, after she'd finally gotten comfortable with it all, but before the DPG started creeping in. He loved all of Claire, but he missed that Claire the most.

They'd only been in Oakland for a few months when he started to get restless. Claire had been the one who recommended that he take the RV and get out for a bit. She'd even offered to go with him, but that she was limited on time. He'd started to mix going out on his own for longer trips with shorter weekend getaways with her. And then, one day, he'd been exploring the foothills when he'd come across a lot for sale. It was one of those moments where he just knew that was the place for him. The next two days were such a blur as he signed paperwork and sorted it all out. He'd been in such a head-rush over it all, that it wasn't until the final 't' was crossed and 'i' dotted that he realized he hadn't told Claire.

He thought that she'd be excited about it. That she'd see the same potential that he had. A place for the two of them to get away. It was more private and much quieter than the noisy campgrounds they often ended up in. This would really be a place for them. She hadn't been excited. To be fair, she hadn't been not excited, either. But it wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for.

He didn't even know when it changed, but one day, he realized that they were calling the lot "his" and the condo in Oakland "hers." It had felt like a sucker punch to the gut. He hadn't known how to take it. Was this the beginning of the end? Had he missed some signs along the way?

His weeks at the cabin started to become two weeks and then even longer. He found solace in working out there, and so he had just naturally gravitated towards spending most of his time there. And then, one day, he realized he was living at his lot and just visiting Claire in the city. She hadn't said anything, and so he hadn't said anything in return. And when he'd show up at her place, his stuff was still all there, right where he'd left it. He didn't know how to take it.

Until finally, a few weeks ago, they'd had it out. He couldn't even tell you what started the conversation. He couldn't even tell you what they argued about. All he remembered was the end. Her telling him to go live in his van, and him storming out. He'd been out on his lot ever since.

And they hadn't spoken. Not even a text message. He knew, rationally, that it was just as much on him as it was on her to make the first move. But he was stubborn. And so was she.

He really hadn't expected her to show up today.

And dammit, Claire! Why did she have to want to go back? Why couldn't she see that nothing good came from there. That the island could burn to the ground for all he cared. Too bad the volcano was dormant. He could really use it wiping the island off the face of the planet. Actually, he'd probably be the first one celebrating if that happened.

Except no, he wouldn't. He couldn't even convince himself that he didn't care. The three years he'd spent on Nublar were some of the best years of his life. The raptor project had been like a dream come true. Yes, there were downsides (Hoskins) and things he had to accept that he really didn't want to (military plus dinosaurs was not a good combination in his book). But there had been a lot of positives.

He was the first person to attempt to actually look at the dinosaurs as real intelligent animals, not just things to show off. Sure there were notes from the previous attempts at building the park and the interactions of people like Dr. Alan Grant. And some of the other handlers also talked about training their dinosaurs. But getting a dinosaur to realize that a crane or bell meant food was nothing like what he had done. He was determining their intelligence. And they were (are, if Blue was still alive) intelligent. Highly intelligent. He'd easily go as far as saying much more intelligent than many people he'd ever interacted with.

It wasn't just the dinosaurs. He'd made friends there. And he'd met Claire there. But after everything that happened, it felt like one of those scenarios where you realize too late that for everything it gave you, it was taking something else away.

And so now, as the sun was setting he was standing at the counter in his RV, alternating between watching the sunset, and torturing himself with old videos of the raptors. They were training logs, but sometimes, they felt more like home videos.

Pressing play on the next video, he watched the four baby raptors race around the room, careening into balls and off of each other. "Chow time, it's chow time," he heard himself call out. "Whoa. Whoa. Back up. Back off. Hey, hey, hey, hey. Jeez. Take it easy. Echo. Jeez, there's plenty of food. God, you guys been eating sugar or something? You're hyper today. Okay, okay. Back up. Thank you, Blue." Even now, years after this video had been recorded, watching as Blue commanded all the other raptors into line set something alight in his heart. He could still barely believe what he was seeing.

He watched as Blue screeched at them until they came running, lining up beside her. "Whoa, whoa," he was saying, hand out directing the raptors. Blue chittered at her sisters again, probably admonishing them. He then watched as he turned to face the camera, stating "Did you get that?"

The screen froze on his face as the video ended, the expression of awe plain to see. Owen glared at it before slamming the lid of the laptop shut.

It didn't matter that Blue was still alive. Going to the island wouldn't solve anything. Right?

Bracing his hands on the counter, Owen leaned forward, his head hanging down. He wasn't sure if he was pissed off or grateful that Claire had even told him she was going. If he didn't know… Well, ignorance is bliss, right?

But the thought of not knowing made his stomach churn. The idea of getting a call only to find out something had happened, to find out that she was there, to know that he hadn't been there to protect her, made the bile rise in his throat. He swallowed over the lump in his throat before taking a few deep breaths.

Pushing back from the counter he started hunting around for his phone. He knew what he had to do.

Thanks to those who have left reviews or kudos and have followed or favourited this story. If my planning plays out, it looks like it'll be 17 chapters (including prologue and epilogue).

If you've got a moment, I'm always interested in hearing what you have to say. And if you don't feel like you have anything to say, you can even just say "hi" so I know someone read it. :)

Oh, and semi-random side note. I have spent way too much time analyzing the movie, and Owen's cabin in particular. And it is *TINY.* Using Owen/Pratt as an estimate for size, it looks to be about 27 feet by 15-20 feet so 405 to 540 square feet (and that's if I include what appear to be a front and back porch as part of the interior). Average apartment size in the US is over 700.

Add on that it's not built on a foundation and that cabin would also be really really cold in the winter.

Also, did anyone notice he randomly has a canoe in it right now? And he's continuing his green energy streak (solar panels in JW, windmill here).