The entire time Artemis was en route to Isla Nublar – which had to be flown out of Costa Rica – she couldn't shake that depressing feeling that washed over her. She loved her mother, she was all she ever had in life, aside from an abusive grandmother. She would have taken the negligent mother over the abusive grandmother any day of the week. Saiah had done her best to provide for Artemis, often purchasing items and saying they were for a friend's child. But Artemis knew.

When she entered school, she was told that she should stay home. Her growth was emotionally stunted and her development was far behind that of a normal eight year old. She always had problems communicating, especially to anyone else who didn't understand her. That was why she was glad when she was placed in the care of a woman who spoke her language. A language, mind you, that often got her hateful comments in society. Her worker had tried to coach her in basic English on the flight there, but Artemis had the attention span of a fly and couldn't concentrate well.

While it was true that she didn't have much, she did cling to what little she still had from her former life. And what little she had was truly that. She had with her a tiny dinosaur plushie that had been sent from – presumably – her father, but her mother always said it was a stranger who gifted it. She didn't find this story too difficult to believe since there were units moving in and out of her city, and most of the uniformed men were unbearably kind to her. They often gave her candy and toys, which was why Artemis always believed this toy came from a soldier.

She had very few things in her life, though, that this one toy was always significant to her. Ever since childhood when her mother handed her a box that she couldn't read, full of toys she didn't know what to do with, that this would likely be all she got in her lifetime. She knew they were toys for a boy, that much didn't take an expert to figure out. Especially because the neighborhood kids commented on it frequently. Artemis would always make a pitiful attempt to tell them off, but it always ended in her sitting on the porch steps crying.

The days that followed her departure were interesting and chaotic to say the least. Her grandmother packed up what little the child had, anxious to remove the flea from her home. And that was what her grandmother affectionately referred to her as;Majudobe, which probably shouldn't have bothered her so much if it wasn't for the fact that she had never heard her name uttered off her grandmother's tongue. Her mother called her Little Miss, still showing some semblance of affection, despite her apprehension to care for her. Her grandmother, however, never gave her such respect or freedoms.

Artemis still remembered the week before she left. The soldiers in the unit helping her to find her father were careful and keen to teach her basic English sentences. Though there was one that her mother had taught her many years prior to her death, which was the one she was sure to remember when she landed on the helipad. The officer in charge of her was fluent in three languages, so she could translate for Artemis, which was rather helpful in hindsight.

The woman in question had removed Artemis shortly after she burned her hand on the stove trying to cook dinner for her mother. Saiah was sick, so Artemis wanted to care for her. She never realized the implications of what was happening, or that she was leaving in the coming days. She just wanted to be friendly to the people visiting her. The officer was kind and quiet, explaining to Artemis that it was okay, she could stop being an adult and start being a kid again. The same lady had also explained to Artemis that she was now a ward of the state, because she had dual citizenship. She would later be taken to the states and put into foster care if her father wasn't located soon. That was the night that the officer explained to Artemis that her mother was not sick, she was dead.

That memory was still painfully fresh in her mind, weighing her down like a brick underwater. She wanted to forget the expressionless look on her mother's eyes. The officer never gave the details of her mother's death, but the child assumed it had to do with the numerous pill bottles laying around the bed. Saiah had never been one to take medicine, even going so far as to arguing with Artemis to take her cold medicine or to use an epi pen on the rare occasions she was exposed to fish. She had seen her mother not doing so for so long, it seemed natural. It was unnatural to believe she had killed herself in such a brutal and primitive way.

Still, now she was on a helicopter, being briefed on what to say and what to do. The officer in charge of her – Sandara, as she requested to be called – was careful about fixing Artemis' clothes. She ushered the child not to speak unless spoken to because this country was not so welcoming of foreigners; especially of her bloodline. The child was primped and prepped that morning, a new wardrobe was purchased, her hair was done up nice – most likely for the media attention, if she had to hazard a guess – and her shoes were no longer the same dusty ones she wore when leaving.

The officer had tried in vain to take the dinosaur away from her, but she wouldn't allow it. Artemis was far too fond of the toy to let go of it. The fight was pretty epic, ending in the child actually going so far as to bite the woman as she tried to pull it away. That was when she realized just how quickly this adventure could turn in the wrong hands. But her father likely got bit more than once in his time, especially in this particular profession. She nursed the bruise on her hand and sighed, waiting for the helicopter to land.

It would be a three hour trip; a short one, at best. Artemis hadn't slept on the entire eighteen hour flight back to the states, so it was no surprise to find her resting in the seat beside her. Her cheek was pressed against the glass, tanned complexion remarkably white, considering her location of origin. She was twitching softly, muttering in her sleep. The officer couldn't help but watch in fascination at this young thing that had seen more war than any soldier of the military and lived to tell of it at such a young age.

Normally the states wouldn't have been concerned if not for the fact that in Afghanistan, it was legal to kill your wife for having a child out of wedlock. Sandara was unsure how that applied to parents of children with grandchildren out of wedlock, but she didn't want the child to stay long enough to find out. She was absolutely sure, without any reasonable doubt, that this child would be in better hands as long as she was outside her native land. While studying her, she couldn't help but notice the soft whimpers that escaped the child's lips.

The whimpers stopped and the woman breathed a sigh of relief, but it was far too soon. Artemis woke up and shrieked almost loud enough to startle the pilot into a cliff-side. Had he not remembered the child in the back seat, he probably would have turned to see what the sound was. The officer turned to the child with a shocked expression, hearing her crying get louder and more intense as they got closer to the island. "Artemis...hey, sweetheart, what's wrong? Did you have another nightmare?" Though she tried in vain to coo her, it was obvious this woman had no children of her own. There was no physical contact, which was what Artemis needed.

"I dreamed about the night mama died." Artemis whimpered, her lower lip jutting out and quivering. Her expression was dark, worn and haggard. She looked like someone who hadn't slept in a week, and in reality, it was probably true. She was silent for a long time before she gulped down impossible tears and looked at the woman in the uniform. "What if he doesn't like me? I don't want to go to the states, I want to go home." Artemis always spoke softly, almost in whispers, despite her screaming and crying.

The officer took her hand and studied the burn blister on it, wondering why it was never dressed. "Artemis, if he doesn't like you, there's other avenues. We can find you a nice family in the states, somewhere you'll be loved and cared for. It won't be like your grandparents, you don't want to go back there, do you? Remember what that bath felt like? Wouldn't you like to take one of those every day?" The woman smiled and brushed a hand gently over the child's. "Did you know he tames dinosaurs? I'm sure your experiences will be nothing he can't handle."

The child wiped her eyes with the back of her palm, shaking her head idly. "He won't like me. And I can't stay here, they don't like people of my nationality here. You said it yourself, he was sent to kill us, not save us." While it was true that the officerhad let that slip in conversation, it was never her intention for the child to overhear it when she spoke to the grandparents. The unit was on a dangerous mission, their initial orders to kill the insurgents. Somehow Saiah had escaped the onslaught, along with her parents. Though Sandara had an idea how. "What if he just wants to kill me?"

"I've heard nothing but good things about this man, Artemis. I think he can handle you just fine. He may not be daddy material, but he has raised some dinosaurs from infancy. So that's pretty cool, isn't it?" The woman sighed and notice the island starting to approach her view. She turned to Artemis and fluffed up her hair and fixed her clothes so they looked neat; not like the rags she came from. She still wanted to take that stupid animal away, but the child refused to let go of it, keeping the leash firmly wrapped around her wrist. The only way she was getting it was to cut the leash, which was frankly, too much work. "Now, remember what we talked about, okay? Don't speak unless spoken to."

Artemis nodded as the helicopter landed on the pad. There were so many people on the pad, it reminded her of the flea markets back home. They were all dressed so nicely, she wasn't used to seeing people without saris. She looked over at the woman in charge of her, gripping her hand rather tightly. Artemis was never fond of large crowds; not after being lost in one when she was little. She didn't speak, as ordered, and waited for the officer to make a move. When the target was in sight, she started to navigate through the throng of people.

The woman stopped after most of the people had left, looking to Owen with a soft smile. Artemis kept half her body hidden behind her leg, trying to keep from any kind of trouble. She had a thumb plucked in her mouth and a dinosaur under that arm, clutched tightly in her elbow. She was holding the officer's hand tight enough for little tears to escape her eyes from the pain of the blister, but she didn't speak, as she was told to do.

"Sweetheart," The officer let go of her hand and knelt down to her level. She noticed Owen doing the same and smiled to the child. "This is your daddy." She spoke in the child's native language.

Artemis offered her hand with the blister, preferring to suck her thumb on her right hand, obviously. She gave her best practiced smile, though it seemed forced, and pulled her thumb from her mouth. "My name is Artemis Yves Grady." And it was probably the only sentence she knew how to speak in English. She moved back behind the woman's leg and waited for something else to happen, but it all seemed so strange to her.

"If you don't mind going to a private location, Mr. Grady, we can discuss the paperwork needed and what is expected of you while we're here. Obviously we're not expecting you to say yes to taking care of the child, but we will give you a week – a month at most – to get to know each other before a decision is made. A translator will be with her at all times until she learns English. Now, that said, she has very few things with her, so she shouldn't be too hard to transport. She's allergic to fish, so keep her away from them at all costs, and she speaks little-to-no English. And...I need to get her medical attention as soon as possible because that blister on her hand looks infected...I meant to do it sooner, but she wouldn't let me see it."