Okay, I'm finally back with something. This came after I saw the description for a movie way back in December and I said to Nadin - we should both write a oneshot based on the description. She got hers done and posted in January (for Loki) and I have just... yeah. Anyway, she kept pushing and I finally got it written and got thumbs up from both her and Elise, so, here it is.
Movie (What Happens Later) Summary (changed to Claire and Owen): Claire and Owen are ex-lovers that will see each other for the first time in years, when they both find themselves snowed in, in-transit, at an airport overnight.
Mine doesn't quite follow this (it's only been 6 months, not years). Also I did not watch the actual movie (reviews and trailer looked bad).
Stranded
With her purse slung over her shoulder and her roller-bag wheeling behind her, Claire let out a deep sigh of relief as she stepped out of the jet bridge and into the terminal. While normally she had no qualms about flying, Denver was currently undergoing a massive blizzard and the landing had been rough, the plane being buffeted by winds and her stomach in knots the whole time. From anxiety or nausea, she still wasn't entirely sure. Claire hadn't even been able to see the runway until a few seconds before they were on it.
Squeezing past other travellers (why so many people felt the need to come to a complete standstill the moment they exited the doors, she'd never understand), Claire hurried towards the bank of monitors to check the status of her connecting flight. They hadn't given much information on the plane—just that conditions were bad and that there were many disruptions and that travellers should check themselves.
As she neared the screen, she could feel a groan rising up in her throat. The update column was full of orange and red, representing flights that were delayed or, even worse, already cancelled. Scanning the list, she let out a second relieved sigh. At the moment, her flight was listed as being only moderately delayed. Which was actually a bit of a relief, as it meant she should have time to grab some dinner before she would need to line up for boarding. Especially after the flight she'd just had. And, well, she really wasn't in any real hurry to get to her destination.
Pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text to Karen letting her know about the delay, before making her way down the terminal in search of some food.
The airport was extra crowded, as passengers waited to find out the fate of their delayed and/or cancelled flights. As she wove around other travellers, Claire heard more than one argument, wives sniping at their husbands, kids crying, and men yelling at frazzled airline support desk personnel. The first restaurant she passed had a line out the door, so she didn't even bother stopping. The next one was even worse. The third one looked just as busy as the first two, but she spied what looked like a couple of open seats at the bar.
Dodging around those standing in line, she made her way directly to the bar. One seat definitely did look empty as she approached, but she realized the other one actually had a bag sitting on it. She wasn't sure if it belonged to the guy in the seat next to it, but it didn't matter. She only needed one.
Claire leaned on the bar and flagged down the bartender.
"Can I sit here?" she asked, waving at the empty seat.
"Sure," he said with a quick nod. "Can I get you started with anything?"
"A menu and a glass of your house white, please," she said, as she tucked her roller-bag under the bar. Shrugging off her jacket, she draped it over the back of the seat and then hung her purse on the corner before finally settling down.
Almost immediately her phone buzzed with a text from Karen: "Don't think a delay gets you out of coming." Claire rolled her eyes, but didn't bother replying. Last thing she wanted, or needed, was to get into another argument. Besides, she'd lost the last one anyway — she was on her way, wasn't she?
Placing her phone down, she looked up just as the bartender put her drink in front of her, before handing over a menu. "Thanks."
She took a sip, before she started scanning the menu, trying not to wince at the prices. She probably should've skipped the glass of wine, she knew. Oh well, too late. Besides, she probably deserved it for quite a few reasons. After ordering a Cobb salad (hold the hard boiled eggs), Claire put the menu aside and picked up her phone again.
A noise to her left had her shifting in her seat and turning slightly to her right as someone slid between her and the next stool before claiming it. She didn't look over, not wanting to get sucked into a conversation, instead picking up her glass for another sip and keeping her attention focused on her phone. Thankfully, her phone never failed to provide a reliable distraction.
A whiff of cologne caused a brief melancholy smile to drift across her face. Six months later, and she still found herself caught off guard by little triggers that reminded her of Owen. While it may have ended badly, at least at this point, she was able to remember that there had been good times, too.
"Claire?"
The sound of her name, that familiar tone, didn't break through her thoughts initially. She was sure it was just her mind conjuring up more memories, until a hand landed on her arm, turning her slightly. Her attention was abruptly yanked back to the present, her gaze shooting up to land on a sight she hadn't expected to ever see again.
"Well, well, well," Owen drawled, "Fancy seeing you here."
"Owen." Her voice was hoarse, his name barely audible. As if this trip couldn't get any worse.
"So, what brings you to Denver?" he asked, his tone calm and friendly, as he shifted on his stool beside her.
Claire just gaped at him. How was he acting like this was just so normal? As if the last time they had seen each other hadn't involved screaming, thrown items, and him driving off in a huff.
"You don't like snow," Owen added when she didn't say anything and simply continued to stare at him in befuddlement.
"As if you know what I like," she snapped, finally regaining her equilibrium.
He was cut off from replying, as the bartender appeared carrying two plates. He stuck a hamburger and fries in front of Owen and placed Claire's salad in front of her. He then reached down and grabbed a beer from behind the bar and handed it to Owen. "Kept this for you."
Owen's thanks prodded Claire into remembering to also say thank you, but her focus was still on Owen. What were the odds? What kind of bad luck did she have that she'd end up stuck in an airport restaurant next to him? A packed restaurant where there was nowhere she could go to get away, unless she was willing to abandon her dinner. Her very expensive dinner, at that.
"I know you enough to know you don't like hard boiled eggs," Owen commented, as the bartender moved away. He pointed at her salad, when Claire just looked at him blankly.
She looked down, only to let out a frustrated sigh. Why did so many restaurants find it so hard to skip the egg when she asked?
Grumbling to herself, she unrolled the silverware, placing the napkin on her lap before she picked up her fork, intent on pushing the offending slices over to the very edge. However, before she could even nudge the first one, another fork appeared, stabbing the slice. She watched, as Owen quickly transferred the slices over to his plate, piling them on top of his burger before placing the top bun back on.
"I, on the other hand, love hard boiled eggs," he said with a shrug and a touch of smugness, before picking up his burger and taking a giant bite.
She stared at him for a moment longer, before she gave up and turned back to her salad, although she was no longer feeling all that hungry. Mostly, she just felt completely off balance.
This whole trip wasn't something she wanted to be doing in the first place, but Karen had guilted her into coming out for Christmas, especially once she'd realized that Claire was going to be alone. And now for Owen to just… be there, and to be just acting like there was nothing unusual about them sitting together was throwing her off. How was he so unfazed by it all?
It may have been months since she last saw him, but Claire knew there was absolutely no way she could describe her current feelings as "indifferent." No, as much as she was unsettled, there was also a weird sort of calm that she was feeling, just from having his presence next to her. A calm that was also irritating, now that she'd noticed it. He shouldn't be making her feel calm in any way. No, not after last time. He didn't have the right.
Groaning, Claire put down her fork before resting her elbows on the bartop and letting her head fall into her hands.
"Not hungry?" Owen asked.
She tilted her head slightly, looking over at him, her head still resting in her hands. "How are you so calm?"
He blinked at her. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"Does this really not bother you at all?"
"What?" He looked around the bar before returning his gaze to her. "Being stuck at the airport? Not much I can do about that."
"Not that. I mean… Really, Owen? Sitting here, next to me is just… it doesn't bother you?"
"Is it supposed to? I'm sitting in an airport, stuck waiting to find out if my flight is going to end up cancelled. All I'm focused on at the moment is trying to enjoy my overpriced hamburger. It's not like I expected that you'd also be here, or that you'd choose to sit beside me. But, well, what can I do about any of it? What, were you expecting me to pick up our fight where we left off? Because I can do that, if it'd make things easier."
"Really, Owen?" she repeated in utter disbelief.
"Just give me a moment," he said, pausing to take another bite. She watched as he tilted his head to the side slightly, looking thoughtful as he chewed.
"Ah, that's right, I remember now," he said after he swallowed. "You had been in the middle of yelling at me about the van. Said if I wanted to live like a bum, I should just go. And so I went. I suppose you may have been in the middle of saying something else, but I don't remember what it was. It didn't seem important." He shrugged.
"It didn't seem…" Claire just looked at him, her mouth hanging open. "I… You left!"
"Right, you told me to leave, and so I left," he said with a nod. "Why, was I supposed to hang around? I'm not following what I did wrong here."
"You…." Claire growled, trailing off as she realized she had no idea how to respond to that. He wasn't wrong, per se. And that was infuriating. Instead, she turned back to her salad and picked up her fork. She angrily stabbed at a piece of avocado. How was he just so blasé about it? Had their relationship meant nothing to him? Is that why it had been so easy for him to just walk out and never look back? To never phone. Or text. Or email. Just radio silence ever since that day.
Claire managed to make it through almost her entire salad, shovelling it into her mouth on autopilot, before she was pulled from her thoughts again. Although it wasn't Owen this time, it was the airport PA system.
"We're sorry to announce that all remaining flights for tonight have been cancelled. Please contact your airline support center for more information and to reschedule your flight. For information on picking up checked baggage, refer to…"
Claire stopped listening at that point. "Cancelled? As if today couldn't get any worse."
She'd forgotten that Owen was still sitting beside her, nor had she realized she'd spoken out loud until he asked, "Where're you headed?"
"None of your business," she snapped before she could stop herself.
"Whoa," he said, holding up his hands in defense. "It was just a simple question."
But Claire wasn't listening, her focus instead on the commotion around them. Since the announcement it felt like a sense of urgency had overtaken most travellers, rousing them from their stupor as they all rushed for the customer support desks, trying to be first in line to rebook their now cancelled flights. There was a rise in the noise level too, not just from more people moving about, but as people frantically shouted at each other and into phones. She knew she was going to need to join that rush.
Letting out a sigh, she returned her attention back to Owen. "I promised someone I'd be there tonight."
"Well, in my opinion, good riddance," he said. Although he quickly added, clearly reading her shocked expression correctly, "Not about your trip. Mine. I got talked into it. Maybe I'll get lucky and this will last all week. With all the snow, I bet the snowboarding around here is great."
"Talked into it? Didn't think anyone had the ability to convince you to do anything." Claire couldn't help but wince at how bitter her tone was. She hadn't meant it that way. "I'm sorry," she apologized, before Owen could say anything. "I just…" she looked at her phone, before looking back at him. "I have to go deal with a few things, make some calls I really don't want to make."
She caught the bartender's eye and motioned for her bill, before picking up her fork so she could finish eating the rest of her salad. Might as well, if she was going to pay as much as she was for it.
"Anything I can do to help?" Owen asked, still seated calmly, having made no motions to hurry his own dinner along.
"Not unless you want to go on my trip for me," she said as the bartender appeared and she swiped her credit card. "Actually, I bet Karen would love that. The boys definitely would. But, sadly, no. If I don't show up, I think she's actually going to follow through on her threat to track me down. Better to get it over with."
"Well, um, good luck?" Owen offered, as Claire stood up. "And tell them hi, would you?"
Claire just mumbled a response, neither committing, nor not, as she grabbed her bags. Knowing she was going to have to deal with both an irate Karen and overworked airline personnel was enough to set her teeth on edge. She couldn't handle trying to deal with Owen and his nonchalance as well. (An idea of taking on a new identity and simply starting her life over somewhere else flashed briefly through her mind. Not a bad option.) No, the sooner she got out of there, the better for her sanity.
Owen watched as Claire walked away until he couldn't see her anymore before he turned back to his hamburger, letting out a soft sigh as he picked it up and took another bite.
When he'd first spotted her earlier, he was sure that his brain had to be messing with him. What were the chances that Claire would be there, at the same airport, in the same restaurant as him. No, it had to be someone who just looked kind of like her, from behind. But then as he'd squeezed by her onto his stool, as he'd got a whiff of her perfume, he'd just known.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen when she realized it was him. He'd hoped that she might be happy to see him, just like he was to see her. It had been a long six months since he'd walked out of her place, and he'd spent every minute since wondering how to fix it. (Okay, not every minute, the first week he'd been too pissed off. But after that, he just hadn't known how to reach out without making everything worse, and the more time that went by, the harder it became.)
At this point, he could no longer remember what had started the argument. All he remembered was how he'd felt. Like he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and that there was no exit. When she'd given him the out, told him to leave, he'd taken it because he'd been so sure that if he'd stood there a moment longer, things were just going to get worse. But he hadn't realized in his cloud of anger that leaving then was actually the worse move. That staying, even if they'd continued to yell, would've at least meant they were still trying to work on it.
A couple of weeks after he'd left, he'd gotten a text from Zach, which he'd ignored, unsure how to respond to the teen after what had happened with Claire. Zach was her family, after all. Then, a week after that, he'd gotten a text from Karen berating him for not responding to Zach. She hadn't mentioned Claire, and he hadn't known how to take that, either. Was it possible she didn't even know? Claire and Karen had been closer after the park, but closer didn't really mean close. Again, he hadn't responded. And another week went by before Karen wrote again. That time, she'd simply said that she knew he and Claire had broken up, but that Zach really needed Owen to not be another person who walked out on him. Which, frankly, made sense, in its own way.
While Owen had been obsessing over what had happened between himself and Claire, it had been seeing the words "broken up" in the text message that had driven it home. And had made it feel that much more final. If Claire was telling others they were over, then it didn't feel like she had any interest in fixing it.
He had reached out to Zach a few days later, having felt guilty after Karen's message. Owen's parents had divorced when he was in high school, and he knew how tough it could be to navigate that, and that was without dealing with the lingering effects from the park. But, he never mentioned Claire, and neither did Zach.
"Did you know her?"
Owen was broken from his thoughts by the bartender. "Huh?"
"The one who was sitting beside you. Did you know her?"
"Oh, Claire? Yeah. She's my… she's my ex-girlfriend." Six months later and it was still hard to say the words.
"Bad luck running into her here," the bartender sympathized.
"Yeah," Owen just nodded, not really agreeing or disagreeing.
He wasn't sure what to feel. There was a part of him that wished he hadn't seen her, that it would've been better to just continue to have a clean break. But another part of him already missed her again. Those few minutes they'd sat beside each other, even if it was in sort of a weird silence as they ate, had been the first time in the past six months his brain had felt at rest. That he'd been able to actually not just look calm, but feel it. He had forgotten just how soothing her presence could be, without her having to say a single word.
"You want another beer?" the bartender asked.
Owen looked around for a moment, where people were still rushing about, and then shrugged, looking back at the bartender. "Sure, why not. Not like I have anywhere else to be."
By two AM, the relief of having had his flight cancelled (and his trip delayed) had worn off, and the frustration and annoyance over being stuck in an airport overnight had fully set in. Owen had hoped he'd be able to find a corner to sort of curl up for a while and maybe get some rest, but he wasn't having any luck. All the seats had been long claimed, and so had, it felt like, every single possible corner or just stretch of wall (minus those just outside bathrooms — ew, no, thank you). So, instead, he'd been just slowly wandering his way up and down the terminal, at a loss of what to do.
Maybe he should've tried to book a hotel room for the night. Although he hadn't wanted to fight the crowds that he knew would be doing the same thing. It was a no-win situation all around. And, really, he'd be good if he could find some floor space. His duffle would work perfectly fine as a pillow for a night. After his years in the Navy, Owen was able to sleep anywhere, a skill that had served him well.
Rounding a corner, Owen stumbled when he immediately crashed into another person coming his way. Instinctively, he reached out, grabbing their arms as they both teetered, keeping them from falling.
"Claire." He knew who it was before he'd even fully regained his bearings.
"Owen," she replied, her voice short. "What are you still doing here?"
"Where else would I be?" he asked, looking around the terminal before returning his gaze to her. "Actually, what are you still doing here?"
"Where else would I be?" she repeated his question back at him.
"At a hotel," he said simply. Her short tone and obvious displeasure at having run into him again was ticking him off. "Surely the great Claire Dearing would get herself a hotel room for the night."
"Maybe the Claire Dearing who worked at Jurassic World would have, but it's been a while since I had access to a corporate credit card."
There was a slight hesitation after the but. It was so short, that Owen was sure most people wouldn't have caught it, but he knew Claire. And he knew when she was trying to hide something from him. He paused, squinting, as his gaze scanned up and down, trying to figure out what it might be. What wasn't she saying?
"What are you doing?" Claire accompanied her question with a quick jab at his arm. "What?"
"Nothing, just…" Owen paused, before deciding, fuck it. It wasn't like he had anything to lose with her. Not anymore. "Just wondering what you were really going to say. What're you hiding?"
"Hiding? I'm not hiding anything."
He arched an eyebrow, knowing that it would annoy her. "I think someone is a little too defensive."
"Oh, get over yourself." With that, Claire stepped to the side, clearly ready to just pass him by.
"Wait," Owen reached out, gently grabbing at her arm before she could take another step.
"What?" she ground out, full on irritated at him now.
"I'm sorry."
The words seemed to catch her off guard, as she immediately locked eyes with him. There was a long moment when they just stared at each other.
"You're… sorry? I don't think I've ever heard you utter that word before."
It was Owen's turn to step back, his hand dropping from her arm. "Never mind," he grumbled.
"Sorry," Claire replied, her shoulders drooping as she let out a heavy sigh. She rubbed her forehead. "It's not your fault I'm wound up."
"Not this time, anyway," he said, a smile emerging when he managed to get her to let out a small chuckle at that.
"Yeah, that's true," she agreed.
"So, how come you're not–"
"Hotels are expensive," she blurted out, before he could finish what he was asking (although Owen had been about to actually ask a different question). "I…" she trailed off, looking a bit embarrassed, before regaining her composure. "I'm still trying to figure out what to do next. And since the Jurassic World lawsuits and stuff are still on-going I don't really even have time for a job… I'm just trying to be careful with my savings."
"They aren't over yet?" Owen winced at the sharp look she sent his way at that. Surely she couldn't be that surprised to find out he wasn't following the news. "I just… Well, you know me." He shrugged at that. "It feels worse to follow it."
"Can't be as bad as being in the midst of it," she said. "Anyway, it doesn't matter and it's not your concern. It just means I'm stuck here like everyone else. But, that's neither here nor there and so, if you'll excuse me."
Once again, she stepped to the side, intent on carrying on with… whatever, but Owen reached out again.
"Actually, do you have a minute?"
"Um," she looked at him and then down the hallway behind him. All the shops and restaurants were closed. Most people were quiet or whispering softly, and very few were up and about like the two of them.
"It's okay if you have someplace else to be," Owen gave her an out.
"What do you want?" she asked, her tone weary.
It was his turn to hesitate, now no longer sure he wanted to ask the question that had been haunting him for months. But, if he didn't, he knew he would just continue to obsess over it. Maybe this could finally bring the closure that he needed. "That day, what should I have done?"
"Not leave."
Owen was surprised how quickly the words came out. And his response was just as fast. "You told me to."
"I told you–" she cut herself off, shaking her head and staring at the ground for a long moment before she met his gaze again. "Owen, I was mad."
"Yeah? And so was I."
"You asked," she reminded him. "What do you want me to say? You left, Owen. You walked out the door and then you never came back."
This time Owen paused, taking a couple of moments to think over her words. "Not only did you tell me to go, but I felt like if I'd stayed, the fight was only going to get worse. That we were going to both end up saying something that we couldn't take back. Leaving felt like the right move."
"And maybe it was," Claire acknowledged, giving him a small shrug when he looked at her in surprise. "Everything between us happened so fast. And then it all spun out of control just as fast. Can you honestly say you liked me before that day in the park? Owen… Some things just aren't meant to be."
"Do you really think that?" The words were out before he could think to stop them. "No, don't answer that," he said, shaking his head. "I don't…" He trailed off and shook his head again, looking past her, staring blankly down the long hallway behind her. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to say, but how he was feeling now, wasn't the outcome he had hoped for. Had she really thought that them breaking up was the right thing? Was that why she'd never said anything after he'd left?
"I'm not saying the time we spent together was a mistake." Claire's comment was accompanied by her reaching out and resting her hand on his arm and it caused Owen to finally focus back on her. "When things were good, they were really good." She gave him a half smile. "But, look where we are now. My life revolves around attending all the hearings and dealing with all the fallout. You think it was bad before you left… you'd hate it even more now. It's good that you got to walk away from it all. That you can go snowboarding or whatever else you've got planned. That you can live your life."
"I wasn't trying to–" This time when Owen cut himself off, it was because he didn't know how to put his thoughts into words.
"I know." She gave him a sad smile. "But, like I said, maybe it was all for the best. Besides, if you'd stayed… if we were still together, you'd be stuck heading to my sister's for Christmas. Count yourself lucky that you're not."
"Karen's not so bad," he couldn't help but say. And he meant it, too. For the most part.
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Claire said, a more genuine smile on her face. "Anyway, I should…" she just gestured vaguely down the hall behind him in the direction she'd been going before they'd collided.
"Right, of course." Owen stepped aside, letting her pass him, before he turned and watched as she walked away, rolling her bag behind her. He thought, maybe, that she might turn and look back. But she never did, disappearing around another corner and out of sight.
Normally, Claire couldn't sleep on planes. But today, she thought she just might be tired enough that her body would let her. She hadn't been able to sleep all night. Originally, she'd hoped she'd be able to find a seat somewhere and at least rest her eyes for a bit, but she'd found that she didn't feel comfortable doing so while alone. And then, after running into Owen the second time, she'd also been on hyperalert that she'd run into him again. And so she'd spent most of the night either pacing about the airport, carefully looking around each corner before rounding it, or shifting about uncomfortably in a chair when she could find one.
The only good thing about being so tired, was that she knew she'd be able to use it as an excuse once she got to Karen's to hide for a while and maybe escape some of the inevitable questioning that was headed her way.
It was after eight when she finally boarded her plane, and by that point, Claire had had it. One of the few perks that she had left from her time at Jurassic World, was her elite flight status. So even though she was stuck in economy and near the back, she was one of the first to board. So, at least she'd been able to get on board and to her seat quickly. However, because of all the delays, her originally booked window seat had been rebooked as a middle. Just bloody perfect.
Knowing her hopes of sleeping was now dashed, Claire had planned on reading the book she'd packed. A book she'd been meaning to read for months, but had never seemed to be able to sit still long enough to do so. But when it appeared the older woman to her left was going to want to be chatty, instead she'd pulled out her headphones and made a big show of putting them in and turning on music.
Of course, she hadn't been paying that much attention to what music she'd hit play on, until the first few notes floated through. Immediately, she was transported back to those first couple of weeks after Jurassic World when she and Owen were living out of a hotel, still in Costa Rica.
Oh, don't you dare look back
Just keep your eyes on me
One evening, when it felt like everything was just too much, and she'd been on the edge of what felt like a breakdown, Owen had dragged her out to a nearby bar. In the dark lighting, after a few shots (not tequila, thankfully—she still couldn't stand even the smell of it), he'd pulled her out onto the dancefloor. Now, she couldn't hear the song without remembering that night.
I said, "You're holding back"
She said, "Shut up and dance with me"
It was the night when it had felt like things between them had really, truly shifted. That it wasn't that they were hanging onto each other just because of a trauma response, but because they truly wanted to. The first night it felt like she'd really been able to let go, to escape all the craziness, and he'd been right there with her every step. She hadn't felt embarrassed. It had all just felt… right
Deep in her eyes
I think I see the future
As tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, Claire angrily stabbed at the screen of her phone, until the song changed. Taking a deep breath, she tried to get her thoughts in order. It wasn't even like that was the first time she'd heard that song since they'd split up. It was still being played fairly regularly on the radio and in stores. She blamed her reaction on having seen Owen again when she'd least expected him.
Once she felt she had better control of her emotions, she unlocked her phone and switched over to her podcast app. At least she wouldn't have an emotional reaction to one of those, right?
While she did put on a podcast, Claire found her thoughts were too busy to actually focus and so it became more white noise than anything else. Instead, she used the time to think over the past few months, but more importantly, to also look forward. She'd spent so much of the past year and a bit stuck focused on Jurassic World and those final hours there. Reliving over and over and over again every moment of that day. Every decision. Every possible point in time that maybe they could've done something different.
Even when she and Owen had managed to get away for a while, to get out in the van he'd bought and spend some nights away from all the madness, she'd never felt like she could really escape it. Looking back, now, she could see their argument that final day in a different light. She could see it from his point of view. And while she still didn't agree with his decision to just walk away and never look back, she also sort of got it.
By the time the plane was descending into Madison, Claire found that she felt more settled than she had in a long time. Sure, she had regrets over what had happened in the past. And there were things she would change, if she could, but she also knew that you didn't get do-overs in life. That growing up was learning that you had to just suck it up and deal with the consequences and then move forward.
And so, as she pulled her bag down from the overhead compartment, Claire found she had a slight spring to her step. Maybe running into Owen again was a good thing, in the end. Maybe she'd needed to see him, to finally have closure and fully put it behind her.
Walking out of the jet bridge, Claire was focused on her phone, as she texted Karen to let her know she'd arrived and to ask where she should meet her.
"Claire."
The sound of her name caused her to briefly pause in her step, before continuing with her task. Her name wasn't all that unique, afterall.
"Claire!"
This time it was accompanied by a hand on her arm. She yelped and stumbled back in shock, almost dropping her phone as she whirled around.
"Owen?" She gasped, before she blinked. And then blinked again. But he was still standing in front of her. "What are you… what?" She looked around the airport, confused, and terrified momentarily that they'd returned back to Denver for whatever reason. But no, that clearly wasn't the case.
She hadn't made it far into the terminal before he'd stopped her, and other passengers from her flight were streaming by them. "How are you here?"
"I changed my flight," he said, waving her question aside.
"Changed…" she echoed dumbly. "But, why?"
There was a long pause where Claire was almost sure he wasn't going to answer her. But, when he did, his response wasn't at all what she was expecting.
"I don't want to repeat my mistake again," he said softly. "Last time… I walked out and I never came back. I can't undo that. But, Claire… I think you're wrong."
"I'm… wrong?" She frowned at that.
"When you said we weren't meant to be. Or that us breaking up was for the best. I… I've spent the last five months wandering aimlessly. I was doing what I thought I'd wanted to do. I got away from it all, from the circus of the trial and all that. But, I didn't realize just how lost I've been feeling until I saw you last night and suddenly it felt like the world tilted back into place. I can get by on my own, but I don't want to."
"Owen–"
"No, wait, hear me out," he interrupted before she could protest. "I know it won't be easy. I know that we'll fight again. But, Claire, I think we're worth it. As I was thinking about it last night, I realized that I couldn't get on a plane to go to my parents', not anymore. Going there was just going to be more running away from life. From not facing things and not moving forward. It isn't where I want to be. Claire, I want to be here, with you, with your sister and nephews. I'm not saying I want us to go back, I know we can't do that. But I want to go forward." He paused. "With you."
Claire stared at him blankly, her mind racing a mile a minute. This was not a situation she'd ever planned for. Sure, back when he'd first walked out, she'd thought about him returning and what she'd say (or do). But she hadn't thought about that in months, and even on the plane, she'd be focused on moving herself forward and not staying in the past.
"This was a bad idea, wasn't it?" Owen said, stepping back, his hand dropping from her arm, her expression a dead giveaway of her thoughts. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." He started looking frantically side to side. "Sorry, I'll just… I'm just going to go."
It was Claire's turn to stop him, her hand grabbing his arm. "No, wait. Owen, that's a lot to take in. Just, give me a moment." She smiled at him, a bit trepidatiously. "I wasn't expecting this."
Before she could say another word, her phone beeped at her, and she glanced down at it out of habit. There was a message from Karen.
What's taking you so long?
"You've got to go. It's okay," Owen said, trying to step back again. "Go see your sister. And have a… have a Merry Christmas, Claire."
She gripped his arm tighter. The thought of letting him walk away again was almost paralyzing. She wasn't sure she wanted this, but she knew with absolute certainty that she didn't not want this. "Owen, wait. Do you want to come?"
"Come?"
"To Karen's." Her sister was going to kill her.
"As your…" He asked, hesitantly, his gaze locking intensely on hers.
"As my–" she cut herself off. What did she want? They'd never actually defined their relationship before. It had just been what it was. Maybe that had been part of the problem. They hadn't actually committed to each other. "As my boyfriend," she finally finished, although it came out more as a question.
Owen blinked at her, momentarily as confused by her choice of word as she was shocked by going for it. But then he reached for her, his bag falling to the floor as he wrapped his arms around her, his head lowering to hers. He paused, his lips a fraction of an inch away from hers.
"You sure?"
She didn't answer, instead closing the distance between them, pressing her lips to his, her own arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer, her eyes drifting shut.
Her phone ringing had them pulling apart only a few seconds later.
Grimacing, Claire glanced down at it. "Sorry, you know Karen…" She answered, holding the phone to her ear. "Sorry, Karen, I got caught up. I–"
"Hi Karen!" Owen said loudly, tilting his head close to the phone.
"OWEN? Is that OWEN?!" Karen's screech caused Claire to yank her phone from her ear as she glared at him.
You owe me, she mouthed at him, before pulling the phone closer again. "Karen, I'll see you in a sec," was all she said before she hung up.
Owen had taken the moment to pick up his bag and fling it back over his shoulder, before he reached for her roller bag. He held out his hand.
"Shall we?"
Thanks for reading (for the few of you still out there). I am now trying to get the final few chapters of the fourth part of Illusions of Control finished (I've got 2 done, 2 to go). So hopefully you'll see those at some point. In the meantime, if you enjoyed this and want to try to give me some extra motivation to finish stuff/write new, please review.