Hi! I saw your back & reinspired. Could you do a fic with married au for Claire and Owen? Could something have happened during JW where Claire was giving Hoskins shit (maybe separated from Owen) and he locks her into a room w a Dino (kinda like the scene in JWFK with her and Franklin?) and Owen finds her in time 😍 or something like that, I love that AU and protective Owen 😭
W-o-w, I have no excuse for being gone as long as I have been. Hopefully there are people who still want to read this. I hope this is what you were looking for!
Claire isn’t worried necessarily. Sure, she’s locked in a room, and sure there’s a crisis of epic proportions happening on the island and she’s the one who–theoretically and all that–should be handling it. And sure, there could be people actually literally dying (like her husba– No, Claire, don’t), but she’s not necessarily worried. Because that would be a waste of energy, or something. And she needs all her wits about her to figure out to get out of this room that she’s locked in. (That bastard locked her in a room when Owen is out there and he might be–No, Claire, don’t.)
Okay, Claire, she tells herself. This is a problem that needs to be solved, and you are very good at problem solving and Owen is fine, he’s not hurt or dea–No Claire, don’t.
She glances around the room for the first time since Hoskins dragged her in here and slammed the large metal door behind him (“Good luck sweetheart.” And God, the smug look as she scrambled to get off the floor and to the door was infuriating. Wait until Owen hears about this. As long as he’s not already–No, Claire, don’t.)
It’s big, actually, with a set of monitors along one wall and wait, a ladder. There’s a ladder! Claire nearly trips over her feet as she runs to it. She’s not quite tall enough to reach, her fingertips just grazing the bottom, but she can see a hatch at the top. Her eyes dart around the room and spots a chair against the wall. She’s halfway across the room when the ground shakes and she freezes.
The force of the door being crushed in is enough to throw her momentarily to the ground and it hurts, everything hurts, but she doesn’t have time for that because the silhouette of something large and carnivorous is standing in the bright sunlight that is now pouring in from the hole in the wall where the door used to be. Faster than she knew she could move, she has the chair in her hand and she practically throws it back towards the ladder, her feet moving more quickly than her brain.
Claire climbs onto the chair and grabs at the ladder, hoisting her body up the rungs as the Indominus (shit, shit, shit, shit) catches sight of her and lets out a roar full of rage. Her hands are slippery from sweat, but she darts up the ladder as the ground thunders below. She spins the hatch, her heart pounding against her chest, and the breath of the Indominus hot beneath her. It’s jaws snap shut so close that she feels the air of whoosh past her. The panic is about overtake her (she’ll never get to see his face again, she’ll never get to hear his voice again, the way that he whispers I love you, I love you, I love you against her bare back after they make love, she’ll never–No, Claire, no, no, no, don’t) when sunlight and fresh air stream in and she catapults her body out and slams the door down hard, giving the top a spin. It’s not going to hold the Indominus long, but it’s going to be enough for her to sprint away.
She doesn’t stop running, she runs and runs until the ground no longer is trembling beneath her feet, and only then does she allow herself to slump against a tree, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She peels her jacket off, her body slick with sweat and adrenaline, reaching with a shaking hand to grab her phone from the pocket before she throws it to the ground. She must not have had any service in that room (bunker? Claire’s not sure what it was) because messages and missed calls start streaming in. She ignores all but the one name. She has thirty-three missed calls from him, and more than a dozen texts.
Where are you? Are you okay? Why aren’t you answering? Claire? Claire? Baby, I’m really worried. Claire? Please answer. Claire?
She hits send, and she can’t stop shivering despite the oppressive heat.
“Claire? Jesus, Claire, are you okay? Where are you?” Owen’s questions trip over themselves, and she takes a deep breath to answer, to tell him what happened, but she can only get out the first part of his name when she bursts into tears. “Where are you, sweetheart?” His voice softens, the edge of panic receding slightly.
“I don’t know,” she wills herself to get it together. She takes a deep breath and rubs at her forehead. “I’m not sure. I was in a bunker, I was in some sort of bunker. Hoskins locked me in and then the Indominus…"she trails off and shudders, hugging her arm to her chest.
“He locked you in?” Claire can hear the anger laced through his words.
“I’m okay,” she says, realizing that’s how she should have started the conversation. “But I don’t know where I am, and more importantly, I don’t know where it is.”
“Hang on, turn your location on your phone,” Owen instructs, and she knows he’s trying very hard not to let the rage take over. She gets it, really, but there will be time for that later. There’s not time for it now. “Okay, okay, I’m coming right now. Don’t move, okay, Claire? Stay hidden and don’t move until I find you.” There’s a pause, and then his voice catches, “I love you.” Claire presses her eyes closed.
“Love you, too,” she says softly. She hangs up and slides down to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest and taking deep breaths. She almost died, but she doesn’t linger on that thought too long. Instead she thinks about the fight with Hoskins. She had been arguing with him and he offered her a bottle of water, and then it’s a little fuzzy. She doesn’t remember much after that until she was being bumped and dragged along the ground, the door slamming behind her. He drugged me, she realizes in horror, which would also help to explain her spinning head. She’s also worried about her nephews, but before she can start into a panic spiral about Zach and Gray, she hears the sound of a motorcycle ripping through the trees. She’s on her feet instantly, waving her arms at Owen’s approach.
Her husband throws the bike into park and is moving towards her in an instant, crushing her against him. His hands cradle the back of her head and he’s quiet for a moment, his grip on her tight.
“Claire,” he breathes out, and she buries her face in his chest. He pulls away and inspects her, his eyes raking up and down her body. “You’re okay, right?” and Claire gives a quick nod.
“I’m okay, and the boys?”
“They’re okay,” he confirms. “But Claire, Masrani is….” and he doesn’t have to finish. Claire gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Oh God,” she murmurs.
“We have a lot to catch up on,” he tells her, running his hands gently down her arms. She nods.
“We do, but I want to get back. Fill me in on the way,” she tugs at his hands toward the bike, reaching for the helmet. “And I’ll tell you about Hoskins. The bastard drugged me.”
“I’ll kill him,” Owen growls, and Claire can’t help but grin.
“No argument from me,” she replies. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”
