The cabin was coming nicely in the next days. Owen was glad to notice that their episodes were less and less intense, although they remained as frequent. They still avoided company whenever they could, had talked to their families but refused to see them yet. Claire had been talking with Karen about them meeting Maisie, but she didn't want to overwhelm the girl. All three of them were learning how to function as a family and Claire didn't want to disrupt what they were working on so hard. She also wanted to find Iris, but no luck so far.
It was late in the afternoon but the sun was shining as brightly as before. The night would be clear, Owen realized as he looked at the sky that was the deepest blue. Maisie was taking a nap in the van after the exhaustion of a sleepless night and Claire was besides him. They lifted a wooden beam on their shoulders. It wasn't one of the central pillars; all of those were already in place. The front porch was done, and it was time to add the beams for the upper level. Owen had planned to add a second floor to his cabin and now that Claire and Maisie were part of his life, it only made sense to make it a bit bigger.
Although they had agreed they would stay in Claire's apartment in the winter (because the cabin would definitely not be finished by then, at least not this year), they hadn't talked about the long term yet. He knew Claire didn't mind living in the middle of nowhere as long as it was with him and Maisie, but he also knew she was a woman of action, that she needed a higher calling. He would be disappointed otherwise; her high achiever personality was what drove him to her in the first place in Jurassic World.
They made it to the cabin before Owen suddenly stumbled. He managed to catch himself before the beam tipped over and Claire's concerned gaze was on his back in an instant. She was holding the rear of the beam, and it might not be as heavy as the central beams, but it was still too much for her alone to bear. "Owen," she started before she had to grit her teeth, changing her footing to stand more steadily.
"I'm okay," he said and kept walking, but he stumbled again. Claire wondered if it was because of his injured shoulder. It had healed nicely and Owen's bruises had all disappeared by now, but she wouldn't be surprised if some of the pain sneaked up on him long after it had all healed.
The next step he took almost made her lose her balance because of their height difference and the fact that Owen's grip was weakening. She could see the sweat pouring on his neck and the back of his head, as if suddenly a hundred more pounds had been placed on his shoulders. "Owen, stop. Let's… let's stop. Please."
But he didn't seem to be able to hear her and took another step. Claire didn't know what to do. If she let go of the beam, it might hurt his back or worse. But if she held on, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold the weight on her own if Owen let go or fell. Both of them could get seriously injured.
Luckily, Owen stopped walking at that moment and dropped to his knees slowly while Claire watched him and lowered her end in sync. She could faintly hear him whisper something like "I'm sorry." It's only when he was down on his knees that she gently let go of her end of the beam and forced his own hands to let go as well.
"It's okay Owen, you're fine, it's okay." He couldn't seem to focus on her and his pupils were dilated, his mouth parted and lips trembling.
He continued to whisper that he was sorry until he let go of the beam and Claire brought it down the rest of the way, pushing it so Owen wouldn't injured himself. He fell on his bottom and simply sat there, repeating "I'm so sorry," over and over again like a mantra.
One look towards the van told Claire that Maisie was still inside, most likely asleep. She ran towards the bottle of water she kept fresh in a cooler plugged to the van's electric system. She also grabbed two small kitchen towels and came back to Owen. Kneeling in front of him, she poured some of the water on a cloth, using the other to wipe the sweat. "Owen, Owen look at me, honey, please." But he kept repeating he was sorry and his eyes were lost in empty space, the usual sea blue somehow veiled.
She poured more water on her hands and grabbed his cheeks. "Come on, baby, come back to me." She shuddered when she poured water on his head while avoiding his face, very aware of her own triggers. She didn't care that she was wetting his clothes; she needed to bring him back. His heart rate was faster and faster and he seemed to have trouble breathing. So she did the thing that had worked the last time something like this happened to him: she kissed him.
It wasn't just a peck on the lips, it was a full blown kiss meant to cover his entire mouth and she pushed whatever air she had in her lungs into his own body, forcing him to breathe through her. She did that a few times, alternating the kissing with pouring water over his collarbone, his shoulders, down his bare arms and on the back of his neck. When she saw the spark in his eyes return, she stopped the kissing and focused more on the water. She tried to move him to a shaded place, but she couldn't lift his weighed when he refused to move. And she didn't want to hurt him.
"Claire?" he asked at some point, one of his hands grasping the empty air in front of him until she took his hand and interlaced their fingers.
"I'm here, honey. I'm here."
"I'm so sorry," he cried and it broke Claire's heart to see him so miserable, this man that was almost invincible in her eyes that was now taken down by a hallucination, a daydream or a nightmare, she couldn't really tell but it wasn't important.
"For what?" she asked and left one of her hands on his neck, tracing soothing circles at its base and ever so slightly racking her fingernails through his hair. She sat straighter so she could be as close to him as she could without actually straddling him. She used her other hand to trace small circles with the pad of her thumb on his calloused hand.
"She… she got you… in the exhibit… and I couldn't… I couldn't… every time I close my eyes… you're…"
She shushed him and he looked at her, finally looking at her with tear stricken eyes. "I'm alright Owen." She brought his hand to her chest and placed it right above her heart. His gaze followed her movement and watched his hand rise and fall in rhythm. "I'm alive. Hear me breathe, hear my heart. It's beating." She smiled. "You saved me so many times Owen. You have nothing to apologize for."
He kept watching her chest rise and fall and slowly synched his heartbeat on hers, calming down. Claire gently whipped his tears away and pressed the wet and fresh cloth against the side of his face, gently and tenderly. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered in his ear as she hugged him, finally straddling him.
The way he held her so tightly made her want to never let go. "We'll get through this, you'll see," she said.
"I know," he answered in her hair. It felt so good to have her in his arms again, Owen couldn't describe it. He had dreamt of her so many times after their breakup, had imagined how things might have gone differently. The way they were brought back together was cruel and he would glare at the universe's twisted sense of humor, but they were together and that was all that mattered for now.