1 Year and 7 Months Ago
"Gray! What were you thinking?" Karen yells angrily, flailing her arms about the still air as Zach helps him stand up.
"C'mon, bro. You're okay," he says quietly, rubbing the towel around on Gray's skin and clothes to make him dry off faster. "Here, sit down." He backs his little brother up to the bed and lightly pushes him down, taking a seat next to him.
"What is going on?" Karen shouts, motioning to the empty paper cup sitting on the dark red carpet and the damp stains surrounding it.
"He was thinking about all the times he's almost died in water the past 24 hours!" Zach yells crossly, enveloping Gray tightly in his arms. "You need to back off, Mom! He's just scared!"
As Karen stands on the other side of the room, speechless, Scott grabs her shoulders and leads her to the bed. "Sit, Karen. Just calm down. Let Gray have a little time."
Zach pulls away from Gray and gently rubs his back in circles, the darkened blue fabric bunching up under his fingers. "You alright, Gray?" He feels his younger brother shiver as he leans back into his chest, not a single word escaping from his lips, and glances over at his parents.
Scott has plopped down on the bed next to Karen, who is clearly bewildered, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. They are quietly murmuring amongst themselves, and she leans her frizzed head of blonde hair into the crook of his neck. "Scott, what are we going to do? Our son can't even look at water, let alone drink it! Do you realize that everything these kids do involves some sort of water? Y'know what? Nevermind, not what are we going to do. What is Gray going to do?"
Scott stares at the beige color on the wall and begins to absently lace a single strand of Karen's hair through his fingertips. "He'll be fine, Karen. Look at him,"—they both slowly turn to face Zach and Gray sitting on the second queen sized bed, the elder Mitchell tangling his fingers in the younger's curls—"he has Zach. And, despite Zach's recent actions and mistakes, I believe he'll do more than necessary to protect Gray. Don't you?"
Karen is about to respond to Scott when her phone begins to buzz in her front pocket. She reaches down inside it, fumbling anxiously for the small device. Worrying that she may have either left it at their house in a fit of panic after witnessing the news report from the incident at Jurassic World or dropped it somewhere on the island, she lets out a small sigh of relief when her fingers lightly brush against the smooth material—even though it had vibrated against her side. Pulling it out, she quickly swipes her thumbs across the green answer call button. "Hello? Oh, Claire! Thank God, it's you!"
Seeing that his wife needs some time alone to speak to her sister, Scott gently pats her on her lower back and slips away. He slides down to the edge of the mattress on the other bed next to Gray and Zach and wraps his arms around his sons; his grip tightens. He almost lost them both at once. Both. He feels like a colossal fuck-up that has colossally fucked up—as a father and as a husband. He wants to make it better. He really does. However, he doesn't quite know how.
"Karen, good. You still have your phone. I was worried that you wouldn't. Speaking of which, I'm not exactly sure of how I still have mine. Samsung must be pretty sturdy. It's survived the ultimate test."
"Claire, why did you actually call me? You're rambling," Karen replies flatly as she rubs her fingers over the rutted case of her phone. She hears a small sigh from the other end of the line and straightens her posture, a distraught crease growing in the center of her forehead.
"Karen, I know what happened at the park was my fault. And you'll probably never trust me with Zach and Gray again—or even let me get near them. But I need a-"
"That is not true. You hear me? That never will be true. You are the most trustworthy person I know," Karen pauses momentarily, unsure of how to continue the statement. "As for what happened at Jurassic World, that's not your fault either. There's no way it could be. Sure, you may have made some wrong decisions…but you're human, Claire. We all make mistakes; you just have to know how to learn from them instead of beating yourself up over them."
"People died, Karen. Died. Don't you understand that? People died because of the wrong decisions I made. And then, I was naive enough to shove your kids that, might I mention, you sent to spend the week with me, onto my assistant. If I would've just kept them with me, Z-Zara might not be dead right now, and neither of us would even be in this situation."
"I wish you'd listen to me. I really wish you would. But I can't make you. You're an adult, and you choose your own decisions and battles in life. However, I do still have the option, as the older sister, to force you into telling me why you actually called me," a small grin tugs at the corners of Karen's lips as she begins to fumble with a thread hanging off the hem of her crimson-colored sweater. "I'm being serious now, Claire. Why did you call me?"
"Well. Okay. You win. I need a place to stay, y'know, once I get back to the mainland. I won't be on a ferry to head back for a few days—maybe even a few weeks—but I lived on the island, Karen. I can't stand the place right now. Not after what happened. I need to get away from it all after I'm done taking care of financial and business issues."
"Of course! You know you can always come to my house if you need a place to stay. We'll give you a warm welcome with a fresh cup of hot chocolate and a bedroom of your own," Karen responds to the question, a reassuring tone laced through her voice. "Please. Come and stay with us. I think it'll be good for the boys too."
"Are you sure? I mean, we don't want to intrude on your personal space. Especially when we could just go and find a pl-"
"We?" Karen queries, her eyebrow quirking. "Who's we, Claire?" There's a moment of long-gated silence before her sister finally decides to answer.
"Owen. Owen Grady. And, before you say no, he helped save the boys' lives, he saved my life, he saved many peoples' lives, Karen. I need to stay with him, and he needs to stay with me or both of us will-"
"Owen Grady? The one you went on a date with like five years ago? That Owen Grady?" Karen furrows her brows as a now heavy sigh escapes from Claire's lips.
"Yes, Karen. That Owen Grady. The man who managed to mix all my emotions—fear, love, sadness—into one in a split second. The man who unnecessarily saved my life, I, Claire Dearing, the woman who rejected him after barely even getting to know him. The man who spared both Zach and Gray's lives without a single detail of them. The man who-"
"Okay, okay, I get it. You're finally in love with someone," a smug grin tugs at the corners of her upturned mouth, and she leans forward on the bed, glancing down at her feet. "Seriously, Claire. Both of you can stay."
"Oh, Karen! Thank you! Thank you so much! You have no idea how big of a favor you're doing for us! Just…thank you."
Karen chuckles as her light blue eyes make their way to the wood door closed in their room. Her face suddenly droops, and she can feel her heart rate increase. "It's fine, really. The house is going to be half empty soon, anyway."
"Hey, are you okay? You seem a little upset."
Karen gazes behind her to ensure that both Scott and her kids are out of earshot. Once she confirms that they are, she is unable to contain the following words, and they slip out of her mouth, voice involuntarily cracking. "I don't want to get a divorce, Claire."
Scott glances down at his boys each enveloped in the other's arms and watches intently, his brows furrowing, as Karen rushes out of the reserved room. He feels as if he should follow her, but is there a reason she left? Maybe she wants privacy. There are so many different variations of scenarios that he can think of, and one of them is bound to be right. He just isn't sure which one that would be.
"Gray, I need you to breathe, okay? You're gonna make it worse for yourself," Zach says quietly, running his fingers through Gray's golden curls. "Bro? Look at me."
Scott stares at the elder Mitchell as the younger glances up at him, his eyes bloodshot from the tears and his cheeks flushed and glimmering with wet streaks.
"It's okay, Gray. I promise you. It's okay now. We're going to be alright," Zach mumbles softly in the 11-year-old's ear as he pulls him tighter to his chest. "Everything's going to be alright."
Scott, once again, tugs both boys into a snug embrace, and, for a while longer, they sit there, allowing the very presence of each other to comfort their loud thoughts.
I wish I could help Karen.
Gray, lil' bro, I've gotcha. Why can't you understand that?
Zach, I wish I could tell you this. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die, Zach. I'm gonna die.
Hi guys! It's been a while, but I'm back at college, so I'll be kinda busy from here on out. Still going to try to update my stuff though; I hope everyone enjoys :)
