Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Jurassic Park and Jurassic World characters. I simply borrow them to have some fun.

Author's Note: So I have been a long time fan of the Owen and Claire relationship (see "Sticking Together For Survival") and really enjoyed the conclusion of their arc in Dominion. I never wrote anything immediately after Fallen Kingdom because any plot bunnies I would have wanted to explore were already being brilliantly realized by Imagination-Parade and her series of Clawen one-shots. However, after Dominion, a few ideas came to me, this scene in particular. It takes place immediately after Fallen Kingdom, but for me is more about filling in the gap between FK and Dominion. Hope you enjoy.

The Missing Chapters of Maisie, Owen, and Claire

"We Didn't Have a Choice"

It all started as an innocent enough lie. Following the epic disaster at Lockwood Manor, Claire knew how difficult the truth would be to swallow for an ordinary triage team at the local hospital while still focusing on providing good care. One day soon – in an all too destined future – "my leg was gouged by a genetically enhanced mutant velociraptor" would be as easy to believe as "a bear got into our tent," but for now, it was safer and quicker to bend the truth. They were all tired, Maisie most of all. What they needed was food, and showers, and sleep…not seven hours of waiting for someone in Child Protective Services to ultimately determine that there was no protocol for arranging temporary custody of a deceased woman's clone. So when the nurse asked, "Is that your daughter?" and pointed over to the ten-year-old with her little arms still wrapped around Owen's thigh, her face streaked with cuts, dried blood, and dirt-stained tears, Claire simply nodded and said, "yes."

"We're gonna get her checked out too, ok ma'am?" replied the nurse before Claire could object, and suddenly, a PA was waved over, and Owen had to pry the girl from his leg, promising to stay by her side before she'd allow him to hoist her up onto a gurney.

"Are you 'Dad'?" asked the PA, who pulled a stethoscope from around his neck and started listening for Maisie's heartbeat.

Owen gulped, stealing a glance at Claire before uttering the same falsehood. "Yeah." Maisie, whom the former Navy SEAL could tell was in shock, either hadn't noticed them both claiming to be her parents, or didn't seem to mind. Besides, she was certainly squeezing the hell out of his hand hard enough to convince Owen she'd mistaken him for her father.

The PA sighed impatiently, "Mr. uhm…?"

"Sorry, Grady."

"Any allergies we should know about, Mr. Grady?" he asked, shining a penlight in Maisie's right eye. Then left. Her pupils barely constricted, dilating like a cat's despite the light. Yep. Shock.

"Uh, no," Owen muttered, "No, not that we uh…" another panicked glance at Claire, but her gurney was being wheeled from the hallway into an exam room now. "Not that we know of." God, he hoped that was true.

"Medications?"

Shit, he panicked, running his free hand through his hair. "Uh, look," he cleared his throat, about to correct the entire record, when he felt Maisie tug extra hard on his arm. He looked down at the girl who shook her head with an extra squeeze, an obvious plea in her eyes. "No," Owen said to the PA, who was too caught up in his examination to notice anything odd passing between them. "No medications."

"How did this happen, sweetheart?" asked the PA, this time directing his question right at the girl. Maisie opened her mouth but all that came out was a mouse-like squeak. She looked up.

"Animal attack," said Owen.

The PA nodded as if some of Maisie's wounds were consistent with that report. "Domestic or wild?"

He suppressed a snort. "Definitely wild."

Something about his tone finally drew the PA's attention to his little patient's protector. "Coyote?"

Owen shook his head. "Uhm…bird."

Maisie was treated quickly, her wounds superficial despite having been dangled from the gallery's glass roof before Owen had hauled her back to safety. A few scratches on her abdomen and another on her temple, but these were dealt with swiftly by the PA who, once he'd applied some antiseptic ointment and bandaged the cuts, recommended children's aspirin should she start experiencing headaches. Owen tried to take mental notes of everything he was told regarding Maisie's care as they were quickly rushed through the discharge process.

"You take care, Maisie," the busy PA spared a genuine smile for the girl, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. And just like that, he was gone, leaving her and Owen alone with some vague instructions to follow a blue line on the floor back to the waiting room.

Owen stared at Maisie's discharge papers clutched in his hands and froze under the obnoxious fluorescent light shining down as he read the name at the top of the after-visit summary: Maisie L. Grady. Jesus.

"Owen?" came the girl's soft voice. She seemed to have recovered at least somewhat and now regarded him with an intense gaze.

"Yeah kid," he mumbled, shoving the papers into his back pocket. "Sorry let's…let's go find Claire, huh?" He started past her toward the door when Maisie shot out her hand to stop him.

"Don't let him take me," she said, a heartbreaking plea.

Owen crouched down to meet her eyes, "Who, kid?"

But it seemed all Maisie could muster for the moment, for she once again crashed herself against his chest, tears falling silently, her little form shaking in his arms. It was the third time tonight this little girl had practically thrown herself at his heart, and each time, it was a bit harder for Owen to let go.

"Hey," he soothed, hugging her close and patting the back of her head. "You're safe." Maisie pulled back and big watery eyes stared into his own. On instinct, Owen reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. "All right?" And she nodded.

The gash in Claire's leg was far worse than even Owen had realized, but he wasn't surprised. From what she'd described, the indoraptor had dug a talon so deep into her thigh that one twist of her claw might have snapped Claire's leg clean off. Somehow though – miraculously – she had no significant deep tissue or bone damage. Just a shit ton of sutures. "And you'll have to watch carefully for signs of infection," the nurse was saying as Owen and Maisie, finally allowed in to see her, drew into the room. "Any redness, swelling, pus that leaks from the bandage, you get to a hospital, got it? This your family?" the nurse nodded over to the room's new visitors as Maisie's wide eyes locked on Claire's bandaged leg.

"It looks worse than it feels, Maisie," Claire said in a voice she hoped was comforting, dodging the nurse's question.

Maisie placed her little hands on the edge of the gurney, looking her up and down. "W-will you be able to walk?"

It was the nurse who responded. "Of course she will. Your mom's tough, sweetheart. She's gonna be just fine." Owen and Claire exchanged glances but, again, Maisie didn't seem to notice or mind, and curled her hand into Claire's, laying her cheek on the white sheet beside the woman's good leg.

"I'm glad you're ok," she said, barely above a whisper.

Owen, leaning against the far wall, watched what any human being would recognize as a tender moment between a mother and her daughter. Claire's senses prickled at the intensity of his gaze, and when she met his eyes, something tightened in his chest. He cleared his throat and looked away.

"You're gonna need plenty of rest, Claire," the nurse continued her instructions. "Stay off that leg as much as possible. You guys have a lot of stairs at home?" This last question was directed at Owen who started at the word 'home' before Claire came to his rescue.

"We'll be fine," Claire assured the nurse, though she might as well have been speaking to all three of them. When the RN finally left them alone, Claire with a similar – though thicker – set of discharge papers, an uncomfortable silence settled between them.

"I'm hungry," Maisie finally blurted out, folding her arms underneath her head, not moving from Claire's bedside.

"Me too," Claire let out a forced chuckle and patted her head.

Owen smiled tightly and busied himself with gathering what few things they had in the room, "Yeah, let's…let's go find somethin' to eat."

It was nearly 1 am before they left the hospital, still driving the jeep they'd "borrowed" from the manor's basement garage. Owen knew it would be at least midday tomorrow before any police or lawyers started taking inventory of the Lockwood estate, so he wasn't too worried about anyone running the plate and being pulled over. After stopping at an all-night drug store to fill Claire's prescriptions and get some basic toiletries, they drove around a small shopping center hoping to find a 24-hour Walmart or something where they could get food. But in the end, the only surefire guarantee for getting chow this late was a local Denny's, and Owen endured a few eye-rolls from Claire as he turned into the parking lot and had his pick of empty spots.

"Where-"Maisie started from the backseat, startling them both for she hadn't said a word since they'd left the hospital. "Where are we?"

Owen clicked off the engine and turned to face her. "This is an American Institution, kid."

"Nothing else is open, Maisie, I'm sorry," she said, arching an eyebrow in Owen's direction. "Is this ok?"

Maisie opened her mouth to reply then snapped it shut. Looking around uncertainly, she finally gave them a sharp nod, and they headed indoors. "Come on, cheer up," said Owen, hoping that his tone sounded lighter than the sinking feeling he had in his gut. "Doesn't get any better than greasy eggs and half-cooked bacon at one o'clock in the morning."

A waitress named Lauren barely registered anything out of order as they entered the restaurant. Claire supposed they were quite a sight, both she and Maisie sporting multiple bandages, and all three of them wobbling slowly, nursing sore legs, backs, and shoulders. Then again, it was Denny's at 1:00 in the morning. She supposed they were used to all sorts.

Lauren led them to a booth and Maisie tightly pressed herself into the corner by the window, eyes darting everywhere. In fact, the girl had seemed to Owen to be on sensory overload no matter where they'd gone tonight, and when the waitress tossed a kid's menu and some crayons down in front of her, she genuinely looked like she had no clue what to do with herself.

"Maisie?" Claire looked concerned. Was she having some kind of panic attack? Owen was eyeing her carefully too. The girl looked up. "You ok?" Maisie immediately nodded, but Claire wasn't convinced. With a sympathetic smile, she made a guess, "This place probably isn't…as fancy as what you're used to, huh?"

"Oh no, it's not…" Maisie trailed off, finally taking a deep breath and picking up a crayon. "We never–that is Grandpa and I…always ate at home."

Owen and Claire shared a look. "You've never been to a restaurant before?" he asked.

Maisie shook her head and flipped the children's menu over, concentrating hard on the precise marks she started making on the paper in purple crayon. "Grandpa always said we had everything we'd ever need at the manor," she added quietly, keeping her eyes on the paper.

Claire gulped as Maisie spoke, and her heart ached at the implications. But it was Owen who broke the discomforting silence.

"Well, then we're doubly sorry your first restaurant ever is at a Denny's, kid."

Claire stifled a snort, and the clear attempt at levity drew the girl's eyes up inquisitively. "What Owen means is, there are much… nicer places than this. Just not open this late."

"Or early," said Owen, "depending how you look at it," he added with a wink. Maisie smiled.

"We'll take you somewhere really nice next time, all right? And in the daytime." She looked to Owen, expecting to see him nod in agreement, and was startled to find that tense, guarded look on his face that he'd had since they left the hospital. Claire swallowed hard and decided to focus again on Maisie.

They ate mostly in silence, all three of them seeming to sense how insipid small talk would be. And aside from her food – which she practically inhaled –, Maisie remained engrossed in whatever she was writing on the back of her menu. As they finished up and headed to the counter to pay, Owen watched as she gingerly folded the paper up in a tight, neat square and slipped it into her back pocket.

They drove a little while more into the night, Owen wanting to put as much distance possible between Lockwood's and the place they eventually settled. "Works for me," said Claire with a yawn as he pulled into a Red Roof Inn, a good 50 miles away from the manor. She turned to ask Maisie how she was holding up, and the girl was fast asleep.

Claire turned back to find Owen looking at her expectantly. "Can you…uh, you think you can–"

"I'll get her. You bring the stuff," he nodded, clicking off the jeep while maneuvering out of the driver's seat, then gently creaking open the back door. As gently as he could, he scooped Maisie up in his arms, and they headed for a brightly lit entryway with a thoroughly caffeinated employee at the front desk to welcome them.

The process of checking in and the change in lighting roused Maisie enough to allow Owen to set her on her feet, though she continued to lean against him sleepily as Claire somehow produced a credit card to secure a room. By the time they all walked down the hall, she'd woken more fully, and they all seemed to take a deep breath as they entered the homey room, cheery in its lighting, choice of linens, and artwork, a pair of double beds calling out to their wearied bodies.

"This is actually pretty nice," Claire nodded, her voice synthetically upbeat as the prolonged silences were really starting to get to her.

Owen nodded as he strode over to a corner vanity and snapped on the light over the bathroom sink, dumping a plastic yellow bag of toothbrushes, travel soaps, and toothpaste on the counter. "We've certainly stayed in worse places," he grinned, catching her eye in the reflection of the mirror.

Claire smiled for real then, knowing the two of them were thinking of the same shitty hotel they'd found when both had been called as witnesses in the Masrani Global lawsuit. Followed constantly by paparazzi all hoping to snap a picture of the 'JW park manager who outran a T-Rex in heels and her raptor wrangler boyfriend,' Claire had suggested they try the crappiest hotel they could find and succeeded only in being hounded by reporters at a Super 8 instead of the Crowne Plaza.

Claire glanced back at Maisie who had settled herself at the room's small breakfast table and watched as the girl retrieved her folded Denny's menu and purple crayon from her back pocket. She began writing again, as hyper-focused as she'd become at the restaurant. Claire looked once more at Owen, a wordless what do you think? in her eyes, and he could tell she was starting to second-guess herself. "What're you up to, kid?" he asked for her, sensing Claire was torn between allowing the girl her space and wanting to make sure she was ok.

Maisie didn't look up as she continued to scribble, but she did respond. "It's…an itinerary."

Owen raised his eyebrows as he came to stand just behind her and could finally make out the words at the top of Maisie's paper. "Expedition…247," he read aloud, and Maisie made no move to conceal her work, so he read on, "Destination: Cretaceous Period?"

Maisie's mood shifted as Owen continued reading, and she abruptly spun around to hand him the full list like an eager young schoolgirl turning in a spelling test. "Species of Interest: Troodon, Triceratops, Parasaurolophus, Eoraptor–" Owen paused at that one and looked down with another arch of the eyebrow. "Prosaurolophus, and Zuniceratops."

"Whew!" Claire shook her head, "that was a mouthful!"

Owen handed the list back to Maisie who seemed to grow a bit sheepish as she carefully placed the paper back on the table in front of her. "It was a…game Grandpa and I would play," she said quietly. They waited patiently for her to elaborate. "We would pretend we were…time travelers, planning trips to different prehistoric eras to rescue the dinosaurs from extinction. Bring them back to our sanctuary."

Claire stepped closer and angled her neck to get a glimpse of the girl's work. "That's quite the…itinerary," she smiled and absently reached out to brush a wisp of the girl's hair behind her ear. Maisie didn't seem to mind.

"But the Eoraptor isn't from the Cretaceous Period," Owen said matter-of-factly.

Claire rolled her eyes and huffed, "Owen…seriously?"

"No no, it's all right!" Maisie had straightened up with a grin on her face which surprised Claire but not him. "That was…part of the game. Grandpa and I would each put our favorite dinosaurs on the list, but he would always make sure one was wrong. It was my job to correct him."

"Yeah Claire, see? You just weren't playing right," Owen quipped as Claire crossed her arms over her chest. The three of them chuckled, each seeming to forget for a moment the dire trauma they'd all just been through, but it came creeping back in no time, and that unnerving silence quickly returned. "Maisie," Owen cleared his throat and chanced a guarded look at Claire before crouching down to eye level with the girl. "Did you and your grandpa have any…other family?" he could almost feel Claire tense behind him, and he had a pretty good guess as to why, but he felt it crucial to press on. Maisie too had gone a little pale at the inquiry, but responded dutifully, shaking her head. "No aunts or uncles? Cousins? Anyone who would come to…watch or take care of you?"

"Just Iris," she said, staring kind of blankly in front of her. "My nanny," she clarified. "But Mr. Mills…s-sent her away."

Owen sucked in a breath and reached over to cover her hand with his own. "Hey," he said, drawing her eyes up from the table. "I want you to know that we're gonna make sure you land someplace safe ok? With people you can trust."

"Owen," Claire upbraided him, but before he could respond, Maisie grabbed his hand in both of hers with that same sense of urgency she'd shown at the hospital.

"Can't I…" she started, looking between him and Claire, "stay with you?"

He sighed, his eyes falling closed, not wanting to look her in the eye. "Maisie–"

"Of course you can stay with us, sweetheart," Claire took over, deliberately placing her hands on Maisie's shoulders and guiding her away from the table. "Let's not worry about any of that tonight, ok? Why don't you take a shower?" Maisie glanced nervously back at Owen who offered her a strained smile. But the girl was smart, and she hadn't missed the obvious tension that her request had caused. "It'll help," Claire assured her, giving her shoulder an extra squeeze. "Get rid of all that…rooftop grime, hmm?"

Maisie nodded – reluctantly – and went to retrieve the shampoo and oversized tee shirt they'd bought at the drugstore. Wordlessly, she closed the door, her eyes lingering on Owen before it clicked shut.

"What's the matter with you!" Claire hissed once the shower head burst to life and she was certain Maisie had stepped in the tub and out of earshot.

"What?" he hissed back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Claire's mouth hung open a moment, disbelieving, then she gestured to the bathroom door. "She just lost her grandfather. And her only other guardian betrayed her and tried to kill us. She's been through enough, ok? We don't need her terrified that we are gonna abandon her too."

"Abandon her –" Owen bit his tongue. She couldn't possibly be this naive. With saint-like patience, he gripped the back of Maisie's chair and tried again. "Claire, we have no legal claim to this kid. We can't just take her with us and play house for the rest of her life!"

"Legal claim? Owen, she's a human clone. A real-life test tube baby. No one knows she exists except some very brilliant and dangerous people. Lockwood never even let her out of that house."

Owen shook his head and looked away. "We don't know that for sure," he muttered, though without much conviction.

"Oh come on," Claire threw her arms up and huffed, "You saw her at Denny's. It was like we'd taken her to the Taj Mahal!" she paused as he continued to look down, shaking his head. "Owen," she softened her tone, "she needs us."

"We're not parents Claire!" he shot back and he plopped down on the far bed, forearms resting on his knees as he dropped his head in his hands. "I don't know the first thing about being a dad, let alone all the things I would know by the time my kid was ten."

Claire came to his side, sliding one leg on the bed beside him in a half kneel, brushing her hand across the back of his shoulders and neck. "I know," she whispered. "I know. But…I don't think we have a choice."

He rolled his head back and narrowed his gaze. They'd been here before. "Of course you have a choice," he said, echoing his objection to the original Isla Nublar mission in the first place.

Claire refused the bait. "No Owen, not always. Not this time." Frustrated, he pulled away from her and moved to the window, noting the reflection of their faceoff in the darkened pane. He hated that they were already fighting, but at least this argument had substance.

"A choice," Claire continued, "implies there's another option. And what exactly would that be, huh? Come on," she begged him, "look at me!" Dutifully, he spun around and crossed his arms over his chest as she repeated her question. "So we…what? Call child services? Say we found the genetic clone of Charlotte Lockwood? Best case scenario, they put her in the system, Henry Wu finds her within a month, and whisks her off to some lab where she'll be giving blood samples every week for the rest of her life. Who's going to protect her from all that? Some foster family in Poughkeepsie?"

The scenario she painted was grim, and Owen shuddered as he thought back to the hospital and Maisie's own impassioned plea: "Don't let him take me!" she'd begged him. Christ, could she have connected the dots as fast as Claire had? "Anyone looking for this girl is going to treat her like a science experiment, not a child. How is that any different than Hoskins treating your raptors like weapons instead of animals?" His head shot up then, but she was well aware she'd hit a nerve. In fact, she was counting on it. "And what happens when the nightmares come?" she added, glancing back in the direction where Maisie had retreated to her shower. "We can help her, Owen. Maybe more than anyone else can." She watched as Owen closed his eyes and drew in a deep sigh, and she felt her faith in him falter the longer he stayed silent. Relenting and misreading him entirely, she looked down. "Or at least, I can."

Owen's mouth fell open a little, and he blinked. "What?"

"I can," she muttered even quieter this time, suddenly not quite sure what to do with her hands, "If you…if you could at least help us get settled somewhere."

"Jesus, woman," he actually facepalmed, then slowly wiped his hand down his face. She could be so…dense.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to–"

"All right look," Owen crossed the room in two strides and clasped her shoulders in both hands. "First of all, let's get something straight. You and I? We're done with the nonsense." Claire let out a little gasp as he rapidly waved his finger back and forth between them. "This… thing between us? This is for real this time, ok? No more screwing around. I'm not gonna leave you again, and you're not gonna tell me to go. You got it?"

Claire bit her lip to suppress a grin from forming as she blushed furiously, "Got it."

"And for the record?" he glanced at the bathroom door and gestured, "There's nothing I want more than to protect that little girl in there." His words hitched a bit as he said it, and Claire couldn't help but love the way his voice broke as he struggled to clear his throat. "But Claire," he took both her hands in his and leveled his gaze, "if we do this, we have to go all in. Take her somewhere remote, you understand? Off the grid." He started toward her then, his steps precise as he ticked off each condition, each warning. She needed to understand what she was asking of him. Of herself.

"That means no more DPG. No more camping outside of congresswomen's houses and advocating for dino rights."

"I never camped outside of–"

"No one can know where we are or how to find us except a very few people we know we can trust, and that cannot include your sister. Or Zach. Or Gray. Are you prepared for all that?" He watched as she swallowed hard, her eyes widening with every implication. Good, he thought. He was getting through. "If we're gonna do this…we have to disappear. Can you do that?"

She sucked in a breath and gazed into his eyes. She should be shaking, head reeling with the reality of a life lived in secret. Away from her sister and nephews, at least for a while. But somehow, despite the odds, Claire knew that what she saw in his eyes at this moment was all she'd ever need. "Yes," she said steadily. And she meant it.

Owen held her gaze a few seconds more as if waiting for her to break. But in the end, he gave in with a wry grunt. "All right," he said, "Then I guess I really do have a cabin to finish."

Claire smiled broadly then, unable to resist throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him close. "Thank you," she whispered against his chest in earth-shattering relief.

"Pfft…" Owen scoffed as he gently rested his chin atop her head, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Like I was ever gonna win this argument."

Claire pulled back, eyebrow raised. "Did you really want to?"

His eyes darted to the bathroom door, then back to Claire, "No."

And Claire couldn't stand it anymore. With a gentle yank, she pulled his head down and crashed her lips against his. Owen groaned in restrained passion, and she stepped easily into his embrace. He snaked his arms around and up her back, practically lifting her off the floor. Then without warning, his mind flashed on their last entanglement – stuck in the diorama back at Lockwood's manor having just narrowly escaped the Indoraptor's attack. "I can't leave you here!" he'd said in desperation, and yet she'd kissed him then, too. "Go. I'll be fine. Run!" she'd said. And he did. He'd left her–their shared fear for Maisie's safety the only thing that could possibly tear him away in that moment. Owen squeezed his eyes shut as if he could purge the memory of her scream by holding her tighter. He deepened the kiss, teasing her lips apart with his own, and she melted into him, wondering how she'd ever walked away from this.

"Owen?" she whispered when they finally pulled apart, their foreheads still touching as she caught her breath.

"Yeah?" he rasped.

She straightened up and gazed at him intently. "I'm sorry I told you to go live in your van."

Owen looked at her in surprise and then laughed outright. "Nah," he shook his head, then brushed a lock of her hair off her cheek. "I shoulda just let you drive the damn thing."

Claire smiled a little, but her eyes grew sad, and Owen waited patiently as he felt her mood shift in his arms. "We've been so stupid."

He nodded. "Yep."

She gazed up at him again, eyes watering. "We can't be stupid anymore."

"We won't be."

"Because if–"

"Hey," he cut her off, cupping her face between both palms, and leveled his eyes. "We won't be," he repeated slower, more deliberate. Then he kissed her again and didn't stop until they heard the shower shut off and faint movement behind the door.

In mock disappointment, Owen groaned and pulled away, letting her hands slowly slip out of his, though he held her gaze with hooded, teasing eyes, "We are gonna finish this later," he said. She blushed again and bit her lip, but nodded. Yep, she thought, feeling flushed. Definitely gonna finish that later.

After a few minutes, the door clicked open and Maisie reappeared, brushing through her long wet hair as it trailed down her back. The sinking fear in her stomach hadn't settled much since she'd gotten in the shower, but when she saw the two of them visibly more at ease than they had been, hope sprang in her chest.

Claire had a broad grin on her face and she looked over to Owen – who was also smiling now. "You wanna tell her?" she asked. Maisie looked over at him expectantly.

Owen's hands came to his hips and nodded his head toward her, beckoning Maisie forward. "C'mere, kid."

She stepped across the green carpet, settled obediently onto the bed across from where they were standing, and held her breath. "Yes?" she managed, swallowing hard.

Owen reached over and slid her menu off the table, bringing it before them as he handed her back her crayon. "Claire and I need some help plotting out a new…itinerary," he said with a wink. "Do you wanna come with us?"

And as Maisie threw herself in Owen's arms, shaking in relief, it was anyone's guess who cried first.