Sticking together…for survival

[Disclaimer: I claim no ownership or rights to the creation of any characters/situations/plot points developed by Universal and the creative team behind Jurassic Park and/or World]

**Claire Dearing and Owen Grady deal with the aftermath of the events of the June 12th incident at Jurassic World...together.**

Just Tell the Truth

"Hey hey hey! There ya go!" Lowery jabbed a fist in the air toward the screen then clapped. Implant tracking had been intermittent at best but IT had finally come through and the animals were permanently back on the map. Signals were snapping up on screen in rapid succession, each one pinging then remaining on the board with accurate readouts of every location. "Claire!" he yelled across the control tower. "Claire!"

Claire whipped around from the heated conversation she seemed to be having with yet another suit wandering through Operations. Seeming thankful for the reprieve, she hurried down the few steps to his workstation.

"What's up?" she braced the heel of her palm on his console and glanced at the large viewscreen.

"Implant tracking is back online. We've got eyes on all the animals."

Some mild relief flickered amongst her overwhelming fatigue, and she gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Good work Lowery. Get a message to ACU. The thermal sensors are still down in Gallimimus Valley."

"Right."

"Miss Dearing?" the tall man's condescending voice called her back, and Lowery saw her roll her eyes before she plastered on her corporate smile and turned.

"One second Mr. MacLean."

"So who's this guy?" Lowery muttered, nodding back to the latest in a long line of big wigs who'd seen fit to fly out to Isla Nublar this week – unannounced and in the middle of a crisis, expecting to be shuttled around the island like a VIP. He punched in a few codes and flipped down the microphone on his headset. "Uh yeah," he spoke louder when the ACU dispatcher acknowledged his transmission. "We just got implant tracking back online; check your monitors."

"William MacLean," Claire answered in the same low voice. "Communications Director at Masrani Energy."

"Masrani Energy?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "ME's not even affiliated with Jurassic World. What the hell?"

"He's also on the Board," she clarified, and the word board dropped like an anvil between them.

"Oh," he muttered, sheepishly. He turned his head and finally got a good look at her expression: etched with stress and worry, but mostly…she looked defeated.

"Yeah," she nodded, confirming his worst fears. After all, she was in no rush to finish her conversation with MacLean. She'd known for days now where this was headed. It was an eventuality – an expectation. She'd just…hoped to have more of the park restored before they swung the axe.

"Miss Dearing!" he called for her again, pointedly checking his cell phone and staring disapprovingly.

"Claire," Lowery said, reaching for her shoulder, but she pulled back and shook her head with a sad smile.

"I'm coming, sir," she said aloud then to Lowery – "Hey do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Make sure Owen knows? About the tracking implants? He's still…tryin' to find Blue."

Lowery nodded and watched as she turned back to MacLean and marched back up the stairs in those disarming stilettos – head held high.

There weren't many of InGen's research and development team left at the raptor paddock. Most of them had left on the boat that night along with the majority of Hoskins' jarhead security division. But a handful, loyal to Owen, Barry, and the animals they'd helped raise, had stayed behind to help put right a long line of Dr. Wu's wrongs. Leslie Dowd, an animal behaviorist and fellow Navy recruit, was one such compatriot who at the moment was working on an idea for wrangling the remaining pachy herd now that they'd run out of carfentanyl.

"It's not a question of speed," she was saying to Owen as the whirring of a distant motor drew nearer to their workspace. "The land cruiser can definitely outrun the pachys, and they do generally follow you if you bait 'em enough. It's a question of where."

Owen nodded, glancing aside as he saw Claire's car pull into view. "Where do you lead them to?" he clarified.

"Exactly. Then it hit me – the aviary!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "The aviary?"

She held her arms out with a wide I-dare-you-to-tell-me-this-is-a-bad-idea shrug. "Not being used for the pterosaurs anymore. And some of the pachys have wandered that far east anyway. Big open space just sitting there with an I-Rex sized hole in it. Get 'em in? Plug the hole? Whadya think?"

Owen chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck, watching as Claire rolled her car off the dirt path and parked in their graveled lot. "I got no problem with you wanting to play tag with a pachycephalosaurus, Les. If you wanna try it, go."

Leslie broke into a wide grin, like she'd just been given carte blanche to redesign the whole valley to her own personal preservation-conscious specifications. "Can I take Sal?"

"Sure," he nodded toward the rover. "Just be back in time for—"

"I know. Hey Claire!" she called out as she sped off.

"Uh hi…Les?" Claire started with a double take as the girl was racing by so fast she barely got a glimpse. "Well," she turned to see Owen sitting on the work table, one foot propped up on the bench below him while he tinkered with a dual-release catch pole. "She seems pumped about something."

He shook his head and chuckled. "She's goin' pachy hunting. What're you doin' here?"

Her eyebrows flew up her forehead. "Pachy hunting?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"Yup. Taking the Galli rover out to chase rogue Pachy-saurs into the empty aviary," he said with a grin, patting the spot next to him on the table. "Wanna join?"

She managed a dazed smile as she watched Leslie and newbie Sal speed off in the converted rover – once an exhilarating safari adventure for guests turned animal control vehicle in the wake of the incident. "I'll pass, thanks."

"You ok?" he asked absently, though he was a bit too engrossed in his efforts to reinforce the rod to notice the extra slump in her shoulders or the resignation in her tone.

"Yeah," she lied, hopping up on the table next to him, not particularly caring about the snag she felt in her pin-striped pencil skirt. "What's that for?"

"This?" he tightened a screw, then set down the small hex key he was using. "This is for Blue…we hope," then his snapped his gaze down to her. "Oh, hey did you hear—"

"The tracking is back up, I know," she smiled, finding it unceasingly endearing how attached this man was to his velociraptor. She couldn't blame him though. His relationship with Blue had saved all their lives. "Did you find her?"

He nodded north. "Her implant pinged near the island's edge – way north of the old park's perimeter fence. We're heading out there soon as Barry gets back."

"Good," she gave him a nudge and another weak smile…and this time he did notice.

"Hey," he set down the pole and shifted to face her, taking a much closer look: Tight skirt, squeaky-clean blouse, hair pulled back, heels. She was dressed for work – really dressed. Like…Board-of-Directors dressed. "What are you doin' here?"

Claire stared back at him in a sort of half-frown. "It's happened," she said.

Owen cocked his head to the side, eyeing her in scrutiny and fearing the worst. She delayed as long as she dared before his gaze demanded that she continue. "I've been suspended."

"Shit," he spat, shaking his head at the ground. "That was fast."

"We knew it was coming."

"Yeah but Jesus, Claire." Clenching one fist at his side, he propped his elbow up on his knee and laid his forehead in his other hand, wiping beads of sweat up his brow. "That soon?"

"It's been a week."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "A whole week. A week where you've been doing nothing but cleaning up Masrani's mess. With nothing but a skeleton crew of workers I might add." He shook his head again in disgust. "Did they hand you some mumbo jumbo bullshit from Corporate?"

"No," she sighed, smoothing down the length of her skirt, "they were pretty direct about it actually." Straightening up, she adopted a very official tone: "I'm to cease all activities as park Operations Director and Senior Asset Manager pending an investigation into my…handling of the I-Rex incident."

"God dammit!" Owen slammed his fist on the table then pushed himself off of it, stalking toward a red pick-up truck parked alongside the paddock.

"Hey," Claire followed, scurrying to keep up. "Hey, I knew this was gonna happen, ok?"

"They're gonna pin it all on you," he kept walking, dragging the catch pole behind him.

"Probably."

"Blame you so that when all the lawsuits start, they can chalk it up to employee error."

"That's the way these things usually—"

"'No, your honor,'" he mocked, bitterly. "'It wasn't our fault. It wasn't because our security is a joke or our CEO was out of his mind—'"

"Owen—"

"And it definitely," he seized the handle of the tailgate and yanked it open, "definitely wasn't the genius who crossed a T-Rex with a fucking velociraptor—"

"Owen, stop ok?" she reached for him, then jumped back as he threw the rod inside then slammed the bed closed. She took a deep breath and began again. "Look, I need you to promise me something."

"What?" he mumbled, crossing his arms in a huff.

"Any day now, the board is gonna send an army of lawyers here to start asking questions. I'm sure you're gonna be one of the first people they want to talk to."

"Yeah? So?"

"When that happens, please just…tell the truth."

His jaw visibly clenched as he looked away. "What're you talking about?" he muttered in a much lower tone than the one he'd been using. She wasn't fooled.

"Come on, promise me."

But he just grunted and turned back toward the work bench. "The truth about what?"

"You know what," she grabbed him and made him hold still. "They're gonna ask you about the raptors, and-and your project and everything that happened with Hoskins…and then they're gonna ask you about the I-Rex."

"Claire—" his eyes darted around, looking anywhere else, wanting to be anywhere else, as he shoved his hands in his back pockets.

"They're gonna ask you about the paddock I had you inspect. About the scratch marks – come on, look at me." She grazed his chin with the tips of her fingers and lifted his gaze. Finally, he relented and looked down at her. "And when they do that, I need you…to tell…the truth."

He shook his head, gritting his teeth. "This is just…wrong."

"Owen?"

"They're gonna come in here and fuck it up even worse—"

"The truth, Owen."

"As opposed to what?" he lashed out, throwing his hands up in the air.

"As opposed to – to…a lie!" she shouted, unable to hold it in any longer. "As opposed to some macho, I'm-gonna-protect-my-girlfriend bullshit I know is goin' thorugh your head right now! You know, something idiotic like - like uh…'Why uhm, no sir. Actually it was my bright idea to go into the paddock and inspect the scratch marks on the walls!'"

"Claire—"

"'No I—I was the one who-wh-who rushed in without thinking or, you know, waiting for them to run that trace on the implant, or hell even running the infrared scan one more time!'" Owen had fallen silent, feeling nauseous now as the real world realities of what the next few years were going to look like started to set in. "Look," she softened, placing a hand on his shoulder and trying to retain control of her cool. "I know these past few days, you and Lowery have made it your own," she searched for the words and let out a small laugh, "your own personal mission to keep me from blaming myself. And no, I'm not the geneticist who crossed a raptor with a T-Rex or the CEO who wanted more teeth." She cupped his cheek when he started to turn away again and forced him to keep her gaze. "But you said it yourself. I have to deal. And if I'm gonna deal with any of this, you have to let me deal with the fact that I'm the one who sent. you. in. there. I'm the reason that Enrique and Otto were killed…and why you barely made it out alive." He looked ready to argue again, but she pushed on, resolved to say her peace. "Please. You have to let me accept that. And believe me, the last thing I need is us both being in trouble. That doesn't help me, Owen. Ok? The truth does."

Owen watched her carefully, his breath hitching in his throat as she let her hand graze back down his cheek and drop to her side. She just stood there, then. Waiting for an answer. And it was quite clear that only one would do. "Ok," he sighed, almost a whisper, and relief visibly washed over her. "You win, boss." She smiled a little, and it was a real smile, so he held his hands up in mock surrender and closed the deal: "The whole truth and nothing but. You got it."

Claire closed her eyes and took a huge breath. "Thank you," she rasped then took a little step backwards, giving him a firm nod, and turned to head back to her car.

He watched her go, and thought briefly about letting her off the hook, but – well where was the fun in that? Smugly, his hands came to his hips as the gap between them widened, and he called after her. "So you're my girlfriend now?"

She froze, eyes wide, though she didn't turn around. Dammit, she thought. She had a feeling he wouldn't let that slide. "Oh…uhm," she stammered, casting furtive glances to the side as if there were some reprieve to be found in the surrounding jungle. "You know, I just said that to uhm—" she half turned, and she could see him walking towards her so she looked away again. "I was just…making a point—"

"Uh-huh." And then he was right behind her, and she felt his hand at the small of her back – a gentle nudge there which turned her instantly to face him. Their eyes locked and she had the strangest sensation that she was tumbling forward as he closed the space between them -his smile no longer smug- dropped his gaze from her eyes to her lips and kissed her.

Just as stunned as she'd been the first time, she wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands and eventually slid them up his shoulders for support more than anything else. He responded in full, wrapping one arm around her waist and pressing her to him while the other trailed up her back. She held on tighter then, fearing her knees might give out at any moment as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rose up on her tip toes – God he was tall! For a few heavenly moments the world slid away – InGen, Masrani Global, the couple 100 guests still inexplicably insisting on having the rest of their paid-for stay at the Hilton Isla Nublar – all of it melted away into nothing as he held her, kissed her, solidified much of what they'd left just hanging there after that first kiss-me-you-saved-me-from-a-dimorphodon madness.

In the wake of the Indominus's defeat and the ensuing guest relations nightmares, not to mention her nephews still around, there hadn't been time to talk about it. And then…she didn't really want to talk about it – afraid that addressing it might bring about some awkward explanation of it having been the heat-of-the-moment. Impulsive. Forgettable.

There was nothing forgettable about this kiss, and Claire had the feeling that he was making damn sure that she'd never be able to forget him now as he finally drew back, securing both arms around her waist. "So you're my girlfriend now," his low voice rumbled, and this time it wasn't a question. She looked up and sighed. That smug grin had returned but the tenderness in his eyes remained as he brushed a tendril of hair that had escaped her clip back behind her ear.

She smiled up at him and finally relaxed as he touched his forehead to hers. "If you insist," she sighed.

"Works for me."