Prompt by @jurassicsickfics 1: Intense Isla Nublar/Sorna heat causing nausea. Thanks for keeping the fandom alive!
Tags: Clawen, Sickfic, One Shot, Jurassic world, Pre-Jurassic World (2015), Claire Dearing/Owen Grady, Owen Grady takes care of Claire Dearing, heat exhaustion, pov descriptions of feeling sick
Summary: Claire suffers from mild heat exhaustion and Owen takes care of her, cuteness ensues. Clawen one shot sickfic.
Content warning, pov descriptions of feeling sick.
Notes: Personally, I'm not a big fan of reading about stomach upset and think it's really gross, so the descriptions of nausea are pretty mild. No one actually ends up v*miting. So, sorry if that's your thing?? To each their own though.
Happy Jurassic June everyone! Clawenafterdark on twitter, shout out to you!
Also, this is the first Clawen fic I've ever written and I've been obsessing over another fandom lately so this may read a little out of character, I'm not really sure. I tried my best. Thank you so much for reading! < 3
Keep reading under cut
Link to work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47698048
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The sun was beating down on Claire all day, and the humidity felt like it was trying to choke her. It was the hottest day of the year yet, and of course today was the day that Claire's schedule had her running all over the park.
Her usual morning meetings had been replaced by an investors tour which she had been giving around the outdoor paddock of one of their newest attractions. She had answered question after question in the ninety degree heat, trying to look composed while brushing sweat off her brow, and it wasn't even noon then.
She'd known she'd be outside for the majority of the day, and so she had dressed accordingly in her loosest and lightest business attire, but given it was only morning when she started to tire from the heat, she knew she had a brutal day ahead of her.
After the investors tour, which had unfortunately gone overtime, Claire had driven across the park to see about new developments for one of the resorts. Another outdoor meeting. Her car had felt like an oven on the way there with the air conditioning still not working since she kept forgetting to call the auto shop. She had to have all the windows down just so she could breathe. Of course by that time her water had gone warm and did nothing to cool her down.
When she had parked at the resort, she ripped open an instant cooling pack. Over the years of living on the island, she learned to keep them on hand for hot days like this. She hardly had the time to use it though if she wanted to get to her meeting on time, so she had tossed it in the glove compartment after a minute of use.
By the time Claire had gotten back to her car from meeting with the designers she was suffering from a small headache. The meeting had gone well enough, but it was a complete waste of time. All Claire did was nod her head in approval basically. She hated meetings like those. There were a million other things she could have been doing. She supposed the only reason she had been there was to instill fear into the staff and remind them of the standards they had to live up to. They never detoured inside the resort like she had hoped, so that was another sweltering, wasted 40 minutes of her life.
She had looked forward to driving back to her office to enjoy lunch indoors when she had gotten a phone call from one of the directors. There was a major brief happening later that day with Jurassic World's top veterinarian, and one of the directors working on the brief called her to come early, as they were dealing with an emergency that needed her input. She had stayed on the phone with the team as she drove over, and they queued her in on the scenario. She was basically approving the matter over the phone but she still needed to be there in person to see the situation through. By the time their little emergency had been taken care of, it was almost two hours past the matter, and it was now time for the regular scheduled briefing to occur.
This is how Claire found herself now at the main outdoor paddock, standing in the hot sun once again, not having had any break from the heat for the entire five hours she had been at work.
She was hungry, she had a headache, and God it was hot out.
She squinted as she looked around the paddock where herself, the vice president, top directors, the entire veterinarian department, head staff animal handlers, and a few select fellows, were meeting. Zara spotted her near the front of the group and came to stand by her side. Claire smiled at her in greeting and listened as Zara talked about her morning. Claire couldn't remember a word of what her assistant was saying, though. Claire kept zoning in and out of the conversation, tired from the morning she had. Though Claire lived on the island for about a decade now and was used to the Central American heat, she normally spent her work day indoors and wasn't used to spending long hours in the sun like this. It didn't help that she hadn't eaten since breakfast.
Her stomach grumbled a little then, and she tried to ignore the empty concave of her stomach and instead focus on the head veterinarian as he called the briefing to a start.
The brief began outdoors of the paddock, the sun still high in the sky and the heat peaking at the hottest hours of the day. It must have been well over a hundred degrees by now and the humidity was still suffocating. They thankfully moved indoors as they walked through the animal hospital, though the air was stuffy and warm from all the bodies in the room. That's when she noticed Owen Grady in their small crowd. He was standing near a few people she recognized to be animal handlers. He walked with that confident swagger he usually wears, and Claire felt her stomach somersault at the sight of him. She inwardly groaned as the butterflies in her stomach and added flush in her cheeks did nothing to help her feel any better in handling the heat. Her bangs were starting to stick to her forehead. She hoped she didn't look too much of a mess. Immediately, she scolded herself in her thoughts for being worried about what she looked like in front of Owen Grady of all people. She was not going to give that meat-head, scoundrel of a man anymore attention, no matter how handsome he was, nor how his voice dipped when he talked to her. Her stomach flipped again and she cursed in her thoughts. She most certainly did not give any attention to his backside as he followed the group out of the room, most certainly not. She took a deep breath as she followed everyone outside to another paddock. Being one of the last few people to exit the hospital, she ended up standing in the unwanted spot directly in the sun, the rays beating atop her head, most likely making her skin burn as well. She couldn't remember the last time she reapplied her sunblock.
Squinting against the sun, she tried to focus on what the veterinarian was saying but just had to pretend by this point. Gosh, the heat was so strong she was starting to feel lightheaded, she thought. Good thing Zara was taking notes. Claire took another deep breath, resisting the urge to fan herself and willed her mind to stay awake and focused. The briefing was allotted two hours in her calendar. She already felt like they'd been there for five, so it couldn't last much longer. She told herself she just had to keep it together until the meeting was over, and then she could go back to her air conditioned office in peace.
Unconsciously, Claire smacked her lips together, tasting the dryness of her mouth. Her stomach was starting to feel uncomfortably empty, she noticed. If she had some privacy she could let herself falter, she thought, but she couldn't let the staff see her in this state. Sure, Claire was only human like the rest of them, but she didn't want the image of her stumbling away lightheaded living in anyone's mind, especially the staff she commanded. She needed people to respect her.
She swallowed again, her mouth feeling pasty, and then her stomach cramped. She stilled, her breath hitching, until her muscles released and then she took a relieving breath. This could not be happening now, she thought. Perhaps she should find someplace to sit down, but she hesitated at the idea. This briefing was important and she had to be here. Breaking her from her thoughts, she caught some movement in her peripheral vision. Her eyes widened at recognizing Owen Grady standing at her right. She quickly collected her facial expression, hoping he didn't notice her surprise. Was he standing next to her the entire time, she thought? She spared another glimpse his way and tried not to notice the way his hand rested on his hip, or the way his other hand smoothed over his scruff, or how his musky scent drifted over from where he stood. Her cheeks flushed then, and heat swelled through her entire body. A wave of lightheadedness went through her again, and she wasn't sure if she swayed in her footing or if it only felt like she did. She spared a glance at Owen again and he seemed closer to her than before. Did she do that or did he, she wondered. Gosh, her stomach felt awful.
She tested her tongue in her mouth again, detecting a funny taste building up. She had no idea what the head veterinarian was talking about anymore. All she could focus on was the feeling of the sun beating down on her skin, and the beads of sweat trickling down her hairline, making her bangs stick to her forehead. Hot. She felt so hot. She briefly registered Zara's voice and then suddenly a shadow blocked the glaring sun from her eyes. Staring straight ahead, it took her a second to realize Owen Grady stood in her vision. She looked around to see the small crowd dispersing. She hadn't even realized the brief ended.
She heard Owen say her name then, and she turned back to him, finding it difficult to look up into his eyes.
"You okay?" Owen asked. He sounded a little fuzzy in her ears, though she recognized the concern in his voice even if she couldn't see his face.
Another wave of lightheadedness made her delay in response. "Fine," was all she was able to breathe out. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to hold onto his arm to steady herself and started to step towards the animal hospital. Her head instantly felt like it was trying to float away as she walked too quickly. Owen's hand pressed hot to her back, keeping her balanced.
He said something she didn't register and she found it comforting, but at the same time his warm breath was on the skin of her cheek and it made her stomach coil even more than it already was.
She didn't realize he was guiding her inside the animal hospital until the door closed behind them.
"The heat," she managed to breath out as she followed him to where she knew there was a private break room. Owen walked them too fast for her liking, though she knew they were walking slowly anyhow, and she feared she would faint on the way there, tightening her grip on his hand that she was apparently holding. The moment Owen opened the door to the small break room the cold air hit her face and she felt instant relief. She stepped through the door and breathed in the cold like she was gulping down ice water. She stumbled immediately into a chair at the small round table in the center of the room and rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes. One of her hands quickly moved to her stomach when she felt it tighten with another wave of nausea. She couldn't help the small cry that escaped her lips at the feeling.
"Claire." Owen pushed her hair out of her face. His strong voice helped her focus her mind.
"I'm okay. I'm okay," she panted, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt Owen brush her hair once more before leaving her side and heard him rumbling through the cabinets of the kitchenette. Claire continued to breathe in the cool air and felt her head steady to a slightly less floating sensation. It calmed her down a little and her heartbeat started to regulate.
"Drink this." She heard Owen's rough voice and then something thumped onto the table. She blinked her eyes open to half-lidded and saw an opened bottle of water in front of her.
She just stared at it for a moment, not having the strength to move right away. Then she lifted the hand from her stomach and reached for the water, raising her head just enough so she could take a drink. Owen sat to her right, fumbling with whatever else he brought over to the table, she didn't know what. Her stomach churned as she brought the water closer, but she knew she should at least try to drink something. She brought the bottle to her lips and took the smallest sip. When she swallowed she felt another wave of nausea, and she scrunched her face, turning away and setting the bottle back on the table.
"Try to drink some more," he prompted her softly.
"Mm." She shook head, still scrunching her eyes closed. "Nauseous," she explained, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her head on her hand again. She panted lightly as she gazed mindlessly in front of her, her heartbeat picking up again.
She heard Owen move something plastic around. "Here. This will help," he said.
She gasped as an icy cold sensation landed between her shoulder blades and then quickly relaxed, almost groaning at how pleasurable it felt. A shiver ran through her body and she sighed as she relaxed more, leaning her elbows further and sinking into the table. Her head slid in her hand as she tilted to look sideways, meeting Owen's eyes for the first time since being in the room. She just blinked at him as he stared at her, and then she closed her eyes again, too tired to focus on anything.
She relaxed like that for a minute before she felt Owen moving the ice pack up to the back of her neck. She breathed deeply again in relief.
"How are you feeling?" Owen asked softly.
Claire's head was still floating and her stomach a little sick, but she could feel her mind starting to come back to her at least. She sat up the slightest bit, still propping her head up by her chin.
Claire licked her lip before speaking. "A little better," she admitted, her voice slightly hoarse so she cleared it. She blinked at him, finally able to hold her focus on Owen clearly. His gaze was soft and there was a pretty shine in his eyes, she thought. Her stomach somersaulted for non-sick-related reasons, and she had to break eye contact with him in order to steady herself. She couldn't find the strength to lift her head from her hand, so she held the weight of it as she stared at the first aid kit Owen found, seeing the open wrapper of an instant cooling pack, not unlike one of the ones she used earlier today. "Mmm...I'm a little lightheaded. And nauseous still," she informed him. She lifted her free hand to grasp at the ice pack Owen held to her neck, and he argued with her not to bother. She grasped around his fingers anyway, noticing how cool his hand felt in comparison to hers, and told him she wanted the pack at her forehead, in which case he gave way and let her move it to where she wanted.
She held the pack against her head, closing her eyes as she absorbed the cold, glad to have the heat disappearing from the palm of her hand as well. It felt like her mind was waking up more with every passing minute, which she was grateful for. She heard Owen shuffle in his seat, then.
"Did you eat today?" His voice was tender still.
"Just breakfast," she responded honestly, and she heard the creak of the chair as he got up and rummaged around the kitchenet.
Her hands finally started feeling a normal temperature as she moved the ice pack to her left hand and leaned her temple into the pack, reveling in the cold soaking straight into her pulse point. She took in another deep breath and opened her eyes. She couldn't see Owen, just the empty chair he sat in before. She looked to her right using just her eyes, too tired to turn her head, and saw the blurry image of Owen in the corner of her vision, standing over the counter. The refrigerator hummed annoyingly in the background. She couldn't tell what Owen was doing, but she liked that she got to gaze at him, even in this blurry state. His shape came into focus as she followed him with her eyes as he returned to her. He placed a sports drink on the table, along with an opened box of crackers. She followed a drop of condensation with her eyes as it rolled down the length of the bottle when she heard his voice again.
"I know your stomach isn't feeling well, but you should try to get something in your system," he urged mildly, and she turned her gaze to his face.
His hazel eyes stared back at her, waiting. She inhaled as she looked back to the sports drink. She felt like she was coming back to her senses enough. She could try again at holding down a drink, she thought. Lifting her head from her hand for the first time since she came into the room, she let the ice pack slide from her temple down to her neck and held it there until she had to use both her hands to open the drink. She tried to unscrew the cap but it was sealed tight, and she didn't have the grip strength to try harder. Owen took the bottle immediately from her hands and opened it without effort, before placing it back in front of her and mumbling an apology.
"Thanks." Claire suppressed a smile. Gingerly, she lifted the drink to her lips and paused before taking a sip of the artificially bright yellow liquid. The moment the ice-cold drink filled her mouth her mind instantly woke up, her eyes widening as she pursed her lips at the strong sugary, citrus flavor before gulping it down. She blinked a few times and felt herself straighten up a little in her chair.
"There she is!" Owen's voice boomed throughout the small room and almost made her jump in her seat.
She turned towards him and saw the grin on his face that she knew would be there, the smile reaching his eyes and making them twinkle a certain way that she tried desperately not to find adorable.
She sat still for a moment, gauging the cool feeling in her throat and the way the cold liquid settled in her stomach. Her nausea didn't feel any worse, so she chanced another drink. It felt good.
She slouched in her chair again, resting her head on her hand as she held the ice pack behind her ear and looked at Owen. Her head was no longer floating, instead feeling a little heavy now, like a pressure headache had built up from her brain having melted in the sun. She took another drink, feeling the cold liquid settle in her stomach. She finally processed the whole of what happened here, and suddenly, she felt very intimate with Owen Grady. He was still looking at her with a smile in his eyes, and her heartbeat picked back up.
"You're looking better," he stated. "Your color’s gone back to normal."
She felt herself wanting to hide her face at his notice of her color, instead just faltering her gaze before looking back at him.
"Thank you,” she started, “but you didn't have to do this." Claire felt the urge to deflect his attention, hardly getting out the sentence before Owen started protesting.
"I had to make sure you were okay, Claire," he interrupted her, but she spoke on top of him, saying she would have been fine on her own to which his facial expression immediately objected.
"You were p-practically fainting, Claire. I couldn't ignore that. I had to make sure you were alright." He cut himself off then, and she wondered how strong his worry for her was. She thought his face said it enough, with his intense stare and the way he shook his head like he couldn't think of words to say. She noticed how his chest puffed as he breathed deeply and recalled how sharp his voice was just now. She thought she'd go easy on him and just accept his concern.
"Thank you," she gave honestly. She had to admit, it was sweet of him to stay with her and care for her in the first place. It was nice knowing someone cared. Or at least she let herself be hopeful enough or delusional enough, she wasn't sure which, to think he really cared, not just about the safety of a person, because she knew Owen would help anyone who needed it, but that he cared about her.
"I'm okay, now, Owen. Thank you, honest, but you don't have to stay," she regretted saying the words as soon they came out of her mouth, not wanting him to leave and more than that, seeing the way his eyes shifted away from hers. She didn't want him to think she wanted him to leave so she quickly added, "I mean, you're welcome to stay, but...you don't need to. I don’t want to hold you up." She fisted her hand in her lap. She couldn't understand how she could be commanding a boardroom one minute, and then when it came to this man she could hardly look him in the eye. Her stomach flipped and it made her nausea act up a little, a sour taste coming into her mouth. She cleared her throat and took another sip of the sports drink to bring a pleasant taste back.
"You're not holding me up." A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, and she was glad to have said something right. His gaze quickly changed as he looked her over. "I'll leave, though, if you want to be alone," he hesitated and started to rise from his seat, and before she knew it she'd blurted out for him to stay.
Owen immediately froze, his mouth slightly ajar.
"Stay," she said again more clearly, processing her words this time. "I want you to...if you want to," she finished, finding it hard to keep eye contact with him. Her heart beat harder, and she felt the repercussions of it in her pounding headache.
Owen relaxed back into his seat, keeping his gaze locked on Claire.
"I want to," he replied softly. She noticed his eyes doing that twinkling thing again, and she had to look away. She scolded herself internally for her weakness.
"Then it’s settled," she ended, composing her thoughts and shifting the pack against her other temple.
Claire's stomach dropped when she saw a cheeky grin spread across his face.
"Never thought I'd live to see the day Claire Dearing admits she wants me around," he said, leaning into her space with his elbows on the table, and she instantly regretted making him feel comfortable in this situation. She ignored the musky scent that filled her space and rolled her eyes halfheartedly, her head feeling funny when her eyes went too far back.
"Don't make me regret asking you to stay," she warned, turning her head away from him and leaning against her other hand. "Can't imagine what would make me ask you to stay in the first place," she continued despite herself. "Oh, yeah, maybe the delusion from having my brain fried in the sun," she finished her statement by giving him a pointed look before turning back around. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to roll them when she heard him chuckling behind her.
"Yep. You must be feeling better if you're already picking a fight with me," he laughed.
Shifting in her seat, she attempted to kick him under the table.
Owen scoffed. "Ms. Dearing, that is the most unprofessional behavior I've ever witnessed." Owen faked offense.
"Then good thing no one's here to witness," she replied easily without any strength behind the statement. She turned back to face front, eyes blinking before falling inevitably closed, her headache still evident.
"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take this up with the boss," he continued.
She turned to Owen this time and opened her eyes, half-lidded, and smiled slightly.
"Lucky for me, then, I'm the boss." She held his stare and her smile grew when he cracked a toothy grin. Only then did she twist back front to rest.
There was a moment’s pause between them and then Owen spoke up again.
"Is that still cool enough for you?" he asked.
"Mm, 's fine," she hummed and continued resting. She took another drink from the bottle and they sat in silence for a few minutes, Claire dozing off with her eyes closed and Owen just watching her. She felt the table move under her arms and could tell Owen leaned more into the table top. She heard his soft sigh.
"Do you need anything?" Owen asked gently, his voice so deep and so low and so close to her that it did things to her insides.
"Mm, no," Claire hummed in response, blinking her eyes a few times before giving back into her fatigue. "Thank you."
Owen's "OK" in response was so quiet she almost didn't hear it.
She let herself fall back into their comfortable silence, content to relax in his presence.
A couple of minutes had passed when Claire suddenly felt a tickle near her bangs. Her eyelids flinched at the sensation but she never opened them. She figured that was Owen touching her hair. She didn't mind exactly and allowed him to move the invisible strand of hair from her face, sighing lightly at his delicate touch. She wasn't sure what to make of the action or the fact that she let it happen, but it felt nice all the same.
He didn't touch her again after that and sat there with her silently for the next few minutes. After some time, Claire finally started to feel more like herself, her stomach mostly settled, fatigue wearing off, and headache greatly lessened.
She blinked her eyes open, taking a moment to adjust to the light of the room. Lifting her head from her hands, she turned to see Owen sitting up straight.
She supposed she should feel a little embarrassed right now about the whole situation but she didn't.
"You feeling better?" He looked her up and down once.
"Much better, yes." She nodded lightly and slowly made to stand up out of her seat. Owen followed suit and stood tall in front of her.
She tilted her head slightly to meet his eyes. She liked being able to actually look up at his face when she spoke this time.
"I should be getting back to my office," she noted regrettably, and Owen nodded in response.
"Do you need me to drive you back?" he offered, but she assured him she would be fine driving herself.
She didn't want to leave just yet, so she kept talking. "I had been outside all day," she explained, and he looked into her eyes and waited for her to continue. "My meetings had all taken place outside, and then something unexpected came up which distracted me from lunch. Of course all this happened on the day it decided to be over 100 degrees," she finished, looking up at him and he nodded still. She couldn't look away from his stare. His hazel eyes looked brighter than she remembered, maybe from all the sun they've been getting this week.
"I'm just glad you're okay," Owen finally spoke, his voice coming out tight, and suddenly she felt their close proximity, unsure of who even closed the gap between them.
Claire cleared her throat and broke eye contact first, taking a step back. "Well, thank you, Owen." She couldn't possibly call him Mr. Grady like she usually did, not after the way he looked after her just now. She hoped the look in her eye conveyed how much she appreciated his care.
"You're welcome, Claire," he replied softly, and she met his eyes once more before turning to move towards the door. Placing her hand on the knob, she spared him one last glance, keeping the image of him smiling softly at her in her mind as she left the room. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she closed the door behind her and let it out.
She managed to get back to her office safely and spent the rest of the day inside, only half paying attention to her work, one, because she was still recovering from heat exhaustion, and two, if she were honest, mainly because she kept remembering Owen Grady. After the way he cared for her and stayed with her it was difficult not to let herself indulge in those thoughts just a little bit. She couldn't get the image of his stare out of her mind and pondered if she should finally give in to the urge to go on a date with him. She let her mind wander in out of those thoughts as she worked and by the end of the day, realized she didn't get nearly as much work done as she should have. If anyone asked she'd blame it on the heat, but she knew to blame it on Owen Grady.
** Contains spoilers for Jurassic World: Dominion **
After yet another dinosaur disaster, Owen and Claire collect themselves for the third time. Pretty much another hotel room after the fallout fic.
AO3
YELLOW BLOOMS
The whimper on the other side of the door drew Owen’s attention, his head snapping up from the phone in his hands to bore through the wood. The hotel room they were put in for the night was small, fit enough for the two of them, with an adjoining door for Maisie, but the walls were paper thin.
‘Claire?’ He got up, feet carrying him to the door with a worried skip in his chest. They were going on two hours since they had been set free from the initial aftermath of the Biosyn collapse. ‘Hey, you alright?’ He rapt his knuckles against the door, offering Maisie a soft smile as she meandered into the room through the adjoining door.
‘I’m fine.’ Claire sighed on the other side. ‘Adrenaline is wearing off.’ She mumbled, followed by a sharp hiss.
Sucking in a deep breath, Owen pressed his head against the door frame. ‘Can you let me in? Please.’ His heart was hammering in his chest, thoughts running a mile a minute as he thought about all the ways she could have been hurt. A waking nightmare raced across his vision, imaging the deep gash she sustained the last time they went head-to-head with a predator hell-bent on destroying them.
He just wanted in the room, needed it like he needed air, his panic starting to rise. She may as well have been dragged into the jaws of the giganotosaurus on the other side of the door for all his panicked mind knew.
‘I’m fine, Owen.’ Her breath caught in her throat. ‘It’s just a bruise.’
‘Can I go see Dr Grant?’ Maisie asked, brown eyes shining with hope. Grant, Sattler and Malcolm were all settled somewhere down the hall in rooms Maisie probably already knew. ‘We can go check on Beta together.’ She had made an eager new friend in the old palaeontologist, having talked his ear off in the belly of the rescue helicopter. Maisie couldn’t stop from talking about Blue, Beta and everything she had learned from Owen, occasionally looking over her shoulder to check what she said was right.
They had Beta secured in a small enclosure, just for the night, while everyone got some rest before heading home. He was eager to get back to California and the promise he made, standing still, out in the open with his daughter and juvenile raptor made him antsy. ‘Ah, yeah. Sure.’ He answered, heart warmed at Maisie’s eager grin. ‘Be back in an hour?’
‘I promise!’ Maisie hollered, door closing on the words before she finished them.
Owen tapped his knuckles against the bathroom door a second time. ‘Maisie’s gone to pester Dr Grant, can I come in?’ He tried again.
‘Seriously, Owen? Those people probably want to be left alone right now.’ The door whipped open, Claire peeking through the gap in the door to glare at him.
‘Nah, sure they don’t. Who doesn’t like a teenage girl knocking on their door after a traumatic event?’ He smiled, trying to push the nerves down with a goofy grin.
Claire rolled her eyes at him, the same fond green roll he always received for being her favourite idiot. ‘I think Dr Grant and Sattler wanted to reconnect …’ Her words trailed off. ‘You wouldn’t have been appreciative if Zach or Gray came knocking when we were in Costa Rica. Go get her, please.’ She pushed a bare arm through the door to poke at him.
‘Firstly,’ Owen stopped her with his hand around her wrist, ‘they did. Secondly, they’ll get over it. Thirdly, I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.’
Stepping back from the door, Claire rolled her eyes a second time affection biting at the corner of her mouth. ‘I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ok, Owen, they would have sent me off to a hospital.’ He snorted, pushing the door open to find Claire standing there in only her jeans, her left hand clutching a hand cloth to her bare chest.
‘And I know, you tend to play down the pain you’re in. What’s going on?’ Owen stepped into the small bathroom in one stride, his hands already reaching for the arm she was favouring.
Claire shook her head. ‘Nothing.’ She didn’t quite understand why she was putting up a fight with him after all these years. Owen was the one who tended to every wound, he bandaged her blisters and put ointment on her scrapes after their lives fell apart. He carried her into the emergency room when his own makeshift bandage didn’t work on a deep 3-inch gouge she’d received after the destruction of Lockwood’s legacy. He reassured the tears when she thought she was a bad mom. He patched up bullet scraps and shrapnel scratches when she came home from a successful raid. Owen was always there and yet she was hiding from him.
‘Case in point, Claire. It’s ok for us to depend on each other.’
Claire scoffed. ‘Really? I use that line on Maisie.’ Only because he used that line on her about a hundred times between now and when they first collided. Claire hated to admit it, but she really needed that reminder from time to time.
‘Really, you’re trying to hide something that you know I’m going to see eventually?’
Claire let out a shaky breath. ‘It hurts a lot more than I am willing to admit.’ Her eyes were pleading with him to not make this a big deal, to not freak out or overreact, to go slow, be patient.
Her lips wobbled, eyes brimming with tears as she tried to collect herself on Owen’s soft and patient nod. Slowly, Claire lifted her left arm revealing a bloom of yellow and brown bruising from her elbow to armpit and down the side of her ribs.
Owen hissed, breath drawing in at the sight. ‘Fuck. Babe.’ His fingers reached for her, touch tentative just below her rib cage where a nasty Rorschach blotch wrapped around her side. ‘You did a real good job on that.’ He tried to meet her eyes with a reassuring smile but Claire had her eyes squeezed closed, tear slipping down her cheek as she pushed a shaky breath through her lips. ‘Are you sure you haven’t broken anything? What’d the EMTs say?’
‘I told them I was fine.’
‘Claire …’ His voice was a low growl, a warning sound.
‘Owen.’ Her eyes snapped open to level him with a pointed glare. He raised a brow, ready for the fight that was sure to leave her lips before he forced her to seek medical attention. ‘Please.’ The sound was soft, almost pitiful on her lips. She lowered her arm, favouring it across her chest again, skin pale under the bathroom light, the bruising still burned in his retina. ‘I just want to have a shower and sleep so we can go home. I want to go home with you and Maisie.’ They wouldn’t be able to do that if they hospitalised her and Owen couldn’t exactly keep Beta in a dog crate until Claire was released. They would have to leave her here and after the last twenty-four hours, Owen wasn’t entirely willing to do that.
‘If you can’t breathe …’
‘I can breathe.’ It was his turn to level her with a glare. Watching her breath hitch in her chest, her lungs unwilling to cooperate. Fuck she is stubborn. He almost lost that, somewhere between not even arguing with her about boarding a plane to Malta and getting the fuck out of Biosyn’s mountain campus.
He sighed, stomach doing a somersault at the sudden reminder that he could have lost her. Over and over and over again. He had too many scenarios in his head, the nightmare fuel almost infinite. They had to stop finding themselves in these situations. Owen wrapped his arms around her, careful of her left side as he pulled her body flush with his. ‘I love you.’ He whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss there. ‘The second you’re in too much pain, we’re in the hospital.’ He knew she would never admit to it, wouldn’t crumble and risk their return home.
Claire leaned into his embrace, feeling the sinews of her body melt a little further. ‘I promise, it won’t come to that.’
‘You gotta stop getting hurt like this.’ He squeezed her good hip.
‘I’m trying.’ Claire mumbled into his chest. ‘Can you help me with the shower? I don’t think I’ve got the strength to wash my hair.’
‘I’ve got you.’ He squeezed her gently, careful of the bruises on her left side. ‘I told Maisie to be back in an hour, we can take it nice and slow.’ Not that Maisie’s presence would have made much of a difference. In the past, when they pulled themselves out of these events, there was never much time to think before he had her against a wall, lips to her skin. He could tell this time was different. He wanted to hold her for the reminder that she was still alive, but he didn’t feel the urgency to make up for something they almost lost. He was worried about the bruising, the colour and the spread of it, the way Claire’s breath hitched. He wouldn’t try anything, not tonight. Not until he had confirmation Claire hadn’t broken anything. ‘How’d you do this anyway?’ He pulled away from her fingers brushing her skin absent-mindedly.
Claire watched him set the shower, one hand getting sprayed by the water while he waited for it to heat up. ‘Malta. An atrociraptor was chasing me. I fell.’ She kept it sharp, simple, not wanting to add vivid detail to what she was sure were already rampant horrors in his mind. Just like she hadn’t asked for the details of his own experience the day before or given any more of her own. ‘Hey,’ Claire reached for him, Owen staring into the falling stream of water, mind clearly somewhere else. Owen jumped, startled slightly. ‘We’re going to be alright.’
Summary: If exchanging his heavy and mud-drenched boots for Italian whole cut brogues was torture enough, he was clearly mistaken because there’s something about Claire Dearing’s ability to handle herself that keeps one former NAVY soldier on his toes.
AO3
or
Fanfiction
CHAPTER 14 IS UP!
I was motivated to post this story because of the lack of new Clawen posts here on Tumblr.
Summary: Owen is a soldier, the captain of Alpha Team. Claire is one of the leading surgeons at her hospital. When Fate pulls them together, it pulls them apart just as easily. But they never seem to drift very far.
AO3
A/N: New chapters coming in the new year! I would hope for chapter 4 this year, but gotta pace myself! Enjoy this! I love this fic a lot! So, as always, my girl Clare (@doesitsaysassonmyuniform) fucking pulling through with the edits this time around and killing me with her beta abilities.
It felt slow, the way the hot air moved past her, as Owen took strides towards the doctors and nurses. Claire felt frozen, the heat sticking her into place. It wasn’t as if Claire never wanted to see him again - hell, she didn’t really want to break up with him, if one could call it that. For her, it was the unrealistic standards she placed - stuck between wanting him and feeling hurt by his absence. And now, he’s here…and he’s so close. Claire couldn’t even be happy about it. At least he was alive.
“Isn’t that -” Claire heard Zia say.
“Yep,” Karen replied.
“And he just -”
“Yep.”
“Oh, she is gonna love this,” Zia scoffed, covering her mouth as Owen stood right beside Claire’s scarf, it sitting right next to him as though it waited for him specifically. Putting his hands on his hips, Claire watched his back, the strong build and perfectly square shoulders of a man with control written into his body.
“During your stay in Syria, The Descendants Camp will be in charge of your safety. I’m the Commander, Captain Owen Grady. Welcome.” He nodded, and the group of doctors replied with haphazard hellos and greetings. The other soldier that Claire had met - Alec, stepped forward.
“From here to our destination with Descendants, we’ll be moving in the CH47 behind us,” he explained, gesturing to the three other soldiers to move to the group,“you can only carry what you can fit in the duffle bags we’ve provided for you,” he explained. “The rest will be flown to us tomorrow evening, so don’t worry about anything - it will come to you soon,” he reassured. “We’ll be leaving ten minutes from now, so be quick,” Owen looked down to his feet, noticing the scarf and bending to pick it up. He looked back at Claire and walked to her slowly.
“His boots hit the ground in heavy thuds, and only stopped once he was a few feet from Claire.” He looked to her before extending the scard. Claire looked down at it, reaching for it tentatively. When grabbing it, her fingers grazed his, barely even touched, but it was enough for both of them to sigh at the interaction.
Owen didn’t say a word as he handed over the scarf. Claire didn’t even know how to respond to him - with the way he seemed to look beyond her. She felt like she was nothing in his eyes. They parted as Claire had to pack her bag along with the rest of the medical staff. She clutched at the scarf as she shoved it into her bag and did her best not to sneak looks at the man.
Karen tried to talk to Claire the entire trip over to the camp, but the roar of the engines drowned out all conversation. Through the flight, Claire looked at her hands, not wanting to face her sister, and knowing if she remotely glanced at the soldier at the other end of the helicopter that everyone would ask questions. She felt too uncomfortable to even think about looking up to anyone.
Claire walked past the soldiers, only to be led by the youngest of the five in the company. He introduced himself as Cian, which Claire managed to say correctly to his surprise. The Irish and Scottish bloodlines were strong with them, and the pair laughed at the joint connection. It felt somewhat relieving to be able to get a conversation with someone that wasn’t going to be about how awkward this was. He was nice, and seemed to have an easy going spirit about him. He seemed less strict than the others around the doctors, willing to have a laugh at this moment rather than the rest who had square shoulders and didn’t allow themselves to breathe.
The walk from the chopper to the middle of the camp was short, but worth the heat as they arrived, the waiting soldiers beamed and yelled “Welcome!” as they all appeared. The soldiers raced over, greeting each with their code name, and where they were stationed - apparently for security reasons. The women suspected otherwise. It was a lot to take in all at once, but it seemed as though all the single men wanted to chat with the female doctors and nurses amongst those stationed there. All the girls laughed, except for Zia who asked bluntly where the female soldiers were.
One of the soldiers, Barry (or Snoopy as the others referred to him), led Karen and Claire to their own tent, giving them some basic information on the camp and how it ran. Their tent was with the other doctors and nurses, and on the other side of the the med containers which would be constructed within the next day or two. At one end of the camp was the dining area with a large table for lunch, and breakfast and dinner would be held in the chapel, on the other side of the camp. After that, he saluted the women and left.
The tent was a large size - big enough to stand and walk around in, with two cots on either side and a shelves for each person to put their things in. It was a reasonable spot to sleep, but Claire fell asleep on the floor most nights, so who was she to judge. Karen heaved her duffle onto Claire’s bed and collapsed down onto it, smiling up at her sister. She took up the entire bed, and Claire rolled her eyes. Picking up her own duffle, Claire threw it onto Karen, who groaned at the sudden crash of weight onto her. Claire laughed, watching her sister curl a little.
“Not much to put away when our stuff hasn’t arrived,” Karen groaned, sitting up right as she rubbed at her stomach.
“I’m too tired to do anything anyway,” Claire shrugged, sitting down next to Karen, who looked at her through squinting eyes.
“Knock, knock,” a voice sounded, before moving past the fabric of their large tent. The sisters stood and looked to the soldier that couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six. He looked younger than other soldiers. “How have you been?” he asked with a bright smile on his face. Claire and Karen looked at each other, trying to see if either of them knew him. “Don’t you remember me?” he asked, clearing his throat. He was average height, dark brown hair with golden hazel eyes. Claire felt like she... “I uh...ran away from the ER,” he said with a laugh and Claire covered her mouth.
“Oh! The phone thief!” she exclaimed. Karen chuckled, beaming as she recognised him.
“Private Rickard Dunn. Yes, that’s me,” he stated, before turning into
“What are you doing here? It’s so weird,” Karen said, looking at him fondly like he was her child.
“I know,” Claire agreed. “Jump up and down,” she nodded and Rickard frowned.
“What?”
“Was it your right ankle?” Claire tried to remember.
“Ah!” Rickard realised before jumping as high as he could up and down, landing heavily on his ankles. “Thanks to you I got fit and healthy and joined,” he said, breathing a little heavier and smiling to the sisters.
“You don’t steal anymore do you?” Karen asked, crossing her arms. Rickard waved it off.
“Nah, it was a hard time back then, but I’m living a better life now,” he explained and the sisters looked at each other before pouncing on the unsuspecting soldier. They hugged him tightly and told him to act right for the rest of the time the see him. He laughed and nodded to their request.
After they had unpacked their duffles, the two separated, as Claire wanted to make sure she knew the paths to take to and from each area as effectively as possible. If she could anticipate how to get places, she could probably successfully avoid a certain person. Claire wasn’t someone to shy away from people or awkward situations, but this...was different. It was incomplete from when they ended and felt even more so. They weren’t even together and it felt like they were.
Lost in thought, Claire tripped slightly, feeling the rubble of the dirt ground in her shoe. Untying her shoelaces, she took her shoe off and inspected inside, dumping it out on the ground. Before she realised it, she was being passed by Owen. In his hands he held a box, seemingly looking at the wrapping as he walked straight past her as though she never existed. He went inside the chapel and Claire lost sight of him.
Huffing, a little irritated by the non-exchange, Claire put her shoe back on and walked off to find anything else to do. Anything would be better at that moment.
*~*~*
Owen hid against the wall in the chapel, watching Claire from the mirror on the inside. It was positioned perfectly on her. He watched as she angrily put on her sneaker and move off. Owen hit his head against the wall and he looked at the box again. He really wished this was for him. Of all the things Owen knew, ignoring her was not one of them - give it up to heartbreak or a missed chance - he didn’t want to fall into those sudden feelings again. But she was Claire....a beautiful, breathtaking woman that stunned him with only a look.
Walking up the stairs to the office, seeing Alec on the computer, typing away on some report that Owen probably failed to write. Smacking the package down, Owen pushed it towards Alec. He continued to work and not pay attention to the box that sat in front of him. Owen cleared his throat and pushed the box again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked. Alec glanced at it before going back to work.
“I’ll open it later.”
Owen clicked his tongue, “Nope. Not gonna happen. I can’t wait,” he said, hands on his hips “what if it’s chocolate?”
“It’s probably an explosive,” Alec replied, no change in tone. Owen groaned.
“You only die once,” he said, and Alec looked up at Owen, confused. Owen stepped back and said “let’s open it.”
Alec chuckled, standing and opening up the package. He started smiling, taking out some gifts. “Beef jerky for Lowery. Guitar strings for Cian. And Barry’s shows he’s missed on DVD.” Owen jumped forward, taking the beef jerky and taking a piece between his teeth, chewing on it as he looked at all the presents.
“You dumped her and yet she’s sending all of us gifts. What does she see in you?” Owen asked, sighing as he looked at the descriptions on some of the dramas Barry had got. “Where’s my present?” he asked. Alec reached in and pulled out a letter.
“Here.” Alec shoved the box into Owen’s hands. Empty. The box was empty.
“She’s unbelievable,” Owen scoffed, watching as Alec read through the letter, it seemed short - a small piece of paper with little writing on it. “By the way, she didn’t get you anything,” he mentioned as Alec folded the piece of paper back over.
“My present is on its way,” he said softly before turning to Owen. “I think Lieutenant Young is coming here.” Owen leaned on the desk, folded his arms and smirked at Alec.
“You’re shitting me,” he scoffed and Alec shook his head, handing over the letter.
See you soon - Z
*~*~*
“Sir, Lieutenant Zara Young was ordered to transfer to Syria with the Descendant company as a member of the medical team.” Zara’s father sat in his chair, looking coldly at her. When she was young, it frightened her when he gave her such a look. As she grew, she just understood that was her dad; cold, unfeeling, very protective. Being raised by her English mother, Zara had a mostly British accent, and rarely spilled to her American. Even with her dual citizenship, many people thought she was strictly from the UK. Until the army. Her father pressured her to go into medicine to work as a doctor in warzones. She complied. It was some of the only time that her father took much interest in her.
“I’ll return safe and sound,” she commented as he remained silent. Clearing his throat, he looked at her, cautiously.
“You have to go there,”he said, and Zara knew what his tone meant; don’t go. I know who's there and I don’t want you around him.
“Yes sir, I’m happy to go,” she said, confident in her conviction.
“Like I’ve told you hundreds of times before. I like Owen Grady. He’s General material. I want him to be apart of this family,” he said bluntly, and Zara’s hands bound together behind her back. “You do realise you’re making Alec Warren’s life more difficult,” he explained, putting his hands together. Zara huffed, squaring her shoulders and challenging him.
“You can’t pull rank when dealing with this, General. Do you want to lose one of your best men?” she asked.
“He understood me and decided to remain a soldier,” he said, Zara sucked in a breath.
“I’m still mad at him about that. But he’s a real soldier, and I love him for that. I’m holding onto that man,” she said, and her father shifted uncomfortably. “If you interfere with my transfer, you’ll lose more than just Lieutenant Young, you’ll lose a daughter too,” she spat, and she finally watched Craig Young look frightened. “Sir.”
Zara saluted him, turning on her heels sharply, and walking out of his office, not waiting for his order.
*~*~*
Claire huffed, phone pressed to her ear as she walked around some of the ruins towards the fence around the camp. On the other end, Vivian talked about the hospital. On Claire’s end, she talked about how awkward this all waas. “Really? Zara’s boyfriend and that guy are there?” she asked.
“Yes! I was so nervous at the airport, I basically froze the moment I saw him. How pathetic,” Claire chuckled, feeling her chest go tight as she thought of how they interacted.
“You know, it could be destiny that you’ve been reunited like this,” she teased and Claire rolled her eyes, “aren’t you happy to see him?” Claire kicked at the ground, watching as the stones around her feet moved a few feet in front of her. She shrugged, trying to work through it all herself.
“Not really. It’s kinda awkward. The last time I saw him, I dumped him in a coffee shop before we even finished one date. It’s just sad,” she explained, sighing out her discomfort.
“Hello?” she heard Vivian say. “Claire, can you hear me?”
“Viv? Hello?” Claire said as the line failed. “Ah!” Looking down, she realised there was no way she was getting any sort of connection back up. At least not at this side of the camp. “I guess this is the middle of nowhere,” she sighed, putting her phone away and glancing around at her surroundings. It was a dusty and barren place, where something could have grown a long time ago, but it was just dirt and dust now.
Up along the side of the camp sat an old army tank, left and now overgrown with weeds and grass. It was a stark contrast to the camp itself that lacked all of that. Across the area little kids roamed, playing with things they’d found and speaking Arabic to one another. Claire hadn’t learnt Arabic and knew very little of the language at all. She watched them happily play, until she saw one start to lick at metal from the ground, another trying to also taste the old thing.
“Hey! Hey, don’t lick that. It’ll make you sick,” Claire called out, and the pair looked to her before continuing to lick at the scrap. Claire started to climb over the fence, “wait there,” she said, jumping over and walking over to the children. Handing over a fruit bar, she took the toxic thing from the child’s hand. “Here,” she said, and the girl smiled as she unravelled the bar.
Before Claire knew it, she was being surrounded by the kids, asked something in a language she couldn’t understand. They tugged on her jacket, hands raised up to her face and the same word repeated to her as they begged for something. She couldn’t figure it out, and it felt claustrophobic to stand in the middle of ten kids, desperate for food.
“If you don’t have enough for everyone, don’t give them anything,” Owen’s voice spooked her and Claire stiffened. She relaxed as he walked over. He pointed back to fence, where a sign read ‘restricted zone’ indicating that she shouldn’t be over the barrier. “You don’t listen to many rules, do you?” he asked, hands on his hips.
“I didn’t -”
Claire didn’t get to finish what she was saying when Owen suddenly started speaking Arabic, the kids listening intently as he spoke softly. He didn’t seem intimidating, more of guidance in his words. Then, they all suddenly replied, cheering as they raced off to a section of the fence where they could get through. Claire watched them all sneak into the camp and she turned to him.
“What did you tell them?” she asked and Owen shrugged.
“If they didn’t go away, I’d start shooting them,” he said, barely changing his expression. Claire scoffed.
“Don’t lie to me, you’re not good at it,” she crossed her arms and Owen stepped in towards her, invading her space and making her suck in a breath. Why, after everything, did he make her feel so nervous, like a teenage crush?
“I call this a joke,” he said, leaning in and tilting his head to her, waiting for her response. Claire rolled her eyes and began walking away to the entrance the kids walked through. A few steps away from Owen, she immediately stopped, hearing a metallic click underneath her foot. She felt the shift and the definite click from something being pressed on.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, turning back to Owen. He was heading towards the fence they had both climbed over and turned back to her when she spoke.
“What?”
“Something made a noise under my foot,” she said, and Owen frowned, walking to her slowly. It suddenly dawned on her the magnitude of the situation. Her heart started to pound, her hands started to shake, and she was riddled with fear. A foreign feeling, but one that made her so fucking anxious she could barely get her words out. “You said this place was restricted, why is it restricted?” she asked, voice shaking. Owen replied without hesitation.
“There are landmines aro-”
“Did I just step on a landmine?” she exclaimed loudly. Owen stopped, lips pursing as he looked down at her feet. Claire couldn’t bring herself to look. “What do I do?” she squeaked. Then, Owen started to smile, standing where he was and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Owen!” Claire felt herself start to shake, everything but her foot. She could feel herself breaking, everything coming down and her whole body feeling like a tightly coiled mess. “What do I do?” she asked, a little more desperately and Owen started to crack, chuckling a little under his breath. “Please stop being an asshole and tell me what to do!” she begged, pleading with him for an answer.
“Don’t mo-” he started before cracking up again, his hands on his knees, smacking them as his laughs got harder.
“Are you laughing at me right now? Are you seriously laughing at me!” she screamed, her voice going hoarse and her eyes beginning to water.
“I’m sorry just,” Owen cleared his throat, before stepping towards her, “here,” he said, invading her space, foot shifting right next to hers, and their bodies pressed up against one another. To save herself from falling, Claire clutched tightly onto his shoulders, his hands still on his hips.
“W-what are you doing?” she stuttered.
“Getting you…” he said slowly, pushing her backwards and himself stepping with her. She was about to protest and pulled herself into his chest and braced for whatever was to come. Eyes shut, she clutched tighter to him. “To step off metal,” he finished, and Claire’s eyes flashed open.
“What?” Claire said, looking around them, untouched by anything. She looked up to Owen who was smiling down at her. “You knew!” she yelled, pushing on his chest. Rubbing at where her hands hit him, he chuckled.
“We deactivate all the mines around the camp,” he explained, and Claire huffed, the dam walls finally breaking, and the tears started to fall down her cheeks. Owen’s attitude suddenly changed, softening gently as he realised something was wrong.
“Go fuck yourself,” she swore, moving towards the fence and jumping back over it.
“Hey!” Owen said, running over and jumping over after her. Claire shoved him against the fence, pushing and hitting at him in every way she could.
“You could have said something to not make me panic! Your bedside manner sucks ass,” she said through a shaking voice, and her punches getting softer as her resolved weakened. Tears made her so fucking weak. She turned on her heels and went back to the camp.
“I’m sorry, hey!” he yelled after her. Claire hurried her steps, trying to keep a distance between them.
Claire could smell a festive barbeque raging, coming to the main area to see all members of the camp and some of the kids from before sitting around. Walking past the group, Karen called out to her, “Come join us, Claire! The steaks are amazing!” Claire let her hair fall in front of her face, clearing her throat as she called back.
“Save some for me! I’ll be right there,” she tried to sound put together, but she could hear the crack in her own voice. Moving towards the drinking fountain, she used the pump to dredge up the water and it sprayed into the large clean bucket. Claire splashed at her face as she heard a conversation behind her.
“How did you go?” Alec asked someone.
“I made her cry,” Owen replied in a murmured tone. It was a strange voice for him, somewhat ashamed of himself.
“Already. Wow. You work quick,” Alec scoffed.
“Shut up,” Owen spat back to Alec’s laugh. Claire dried her face before walking to the tents. She just wanted to hide for now. “Hey,” Owen called behind her and Claire rushed off, only to have her elbow pulled back softly and Owen to barge in front of her. “I’m sorry,” he apologised and Claire rolled her eyes.
“Leave me alone,” she snapped, and Owen kept getting in front of her, walking backwards and eyes pleading with her.
“I’m used to fooling around with the guys. I crossed a line,” he explained, and Claire didn’t want to fall for those green eyes that mixed with worry and sadness. She could forgive them a thousand times if they looked at her anymore. But at that moment, she couldn’t. She had her pride wounded, and he laughed at her worry.
“Yeah, you did!” she replied.
“I’m really sorry,” Owen defended, hands raised slightly. She could attack him, beat him, and she would guess he’d still apologise to her.
“Okay,” she nodded.
The national anthem started to play, the sound ringing over a loudspeaker in the camp. Every soldier suddenly stood and saluted. Claire was about to walk past Owen when he raised his arm to his forehead, staring off into the distance. She looked at this man - someone she knew to be completely full of himself, out for a laugh and joy radiating off of him, to someone who stood so proudly, he couldn’t be anything other than a strict and noble soldier. Owen suddenly took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards the flag that hunt over the chapel.
There was silence as no one sang, the song continued to play, and the rest of the staff stood, watching the flag solemnly. “It’s really good seeing you again,” Owen said softly, an affection in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. Owen had usually flirted with her, or been outright unfeeling to her. This, a moment of clarity or desperation, he confessed when she couldn’t see him. Maybe it was the only way he could be truthful with her - when her eyes didn’t burn into him, trying to see beneath the surface.
She could relate.
It was the same way for her.
Claire wasn’t sure how to respond, so she stayed silent, letting the anthem finish and staying as close to him as possible. It was her way of saying the same thing. She just couldn’t get her voice out.
Not now anyway.
They managed to stay apart for the remainder of the day, Karen taking Claire aside and talking with her for the rest of the night. Claire didn’t mind - she actually found it rather comforting that her sister was here too, just so she could vent about all this mess instead of holding it all in.
“So, wait, he tricked you?” Karen asked, and Claire huffed, her head in Karen’s lap and looking up at her sister. They shared their large container of twizzlers, Karen putting a piece of her butterfingers bar in between her teeth as she looked down at her sister. Claire’s teeth tugged on the twizzlers, chewing on it as she got more comfortable.
“He just laughed, he didn’t warn me or tell me, it felt cruel,” she said, crossing her arms, and her brow furrow tightly.
“Well, to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Karen said and Claire sat up abruptly. “He’s been out here for eight months, he knows this camp better than anyone, and he’s used to it being safe,” Karen explained, and shrugged, “and he’s used to joking with guys...who are generally dicks,” to which Claire laughed, concealing her squeaks as Karen shrugged, “...he probably didn’t realise you’d act like such a little bitch.” Karen smirked, biting at her lip as Claire grabbed at a pillow and swatted her sister with it.
“Hey!”
“Look, Claire,” Karen laughed, taking the pillow and protecting herself, “sometimes your walls are so high, it’s hard to see past them,” she said and Claire sucked in a breath, “he saw you with your walls all the way down, and he liked it,” Karen smiled, leaning on the pillow.
“Yeah, men always like a vulnerable woman,” Claire scoffed.
“I think Owen knows you don’t need saving, but maybe he just liked seeing you a little more human,” Karen laughed, throwing the pillow back to Claire, and moving off of Claire’s cot to move to her own. Claire was left in her bed, their lantern dimming as the night drew in, and she was left with her thoughts, wondering if every day was going to be like her first. Clutching to her pillow, Claire cuddled it, hoping her time here would go as quickly as possible.
In the morning, Claire, Karen, and Zia stood around, brushing their teeth as the soldiers were coming around for their path. Their chanting had woken up the girls, and admittedly, the sisters had been watching them go around the last four times. And each time, the soldiers smiled and waved to the doctors. Zia had even eyed her own soldier at the back.
“I think they do this every morning,” Karen said, leaning on the gate of the medical staff zone, her teeth freshly brushed. Claire spat out the excess toothpaste in her mouth and joined Karen.
“If they do this every day, I’ll never leave,” Claire sighed dramatically. Karen laughed and continued to watch the distant soldiers as they were coming closer. Shirtless, beautiful soldiers. The female soldier wore a tank top, but Zia didn’t seem to mind. She had a good imagination.
“Let me know what your plan is so I can move into your old apartment,” Zia laughed behind them at the large bowl of water, still trying to find the soldier of her liking. She was washing her face that morning, and squinting without her glasses.
They didn’t notice the captain walking up to them. He met at Claire’s side on the other side of the gate, and he waved in her face as she continued to watch the men. Then, Owen got into her line of sight, and blocked the view completely.
“I guess they woke you up,” he said, almost like an apology.
“Yeah, can you just move to the side a little bit,” she said, going on her toes, looking past his soldier as they started to run down the hill and wave to the ladies beyond the gate.
“What’s the schedule for the medical service team?” Owen asked, and Claire ignored him, paying closer attention to the men jogging by.
“Morning or afternoon?” she said, absentmindedly, and caught the sight of amazing muscular backs. God they were beautiful.
“Everyone,” Owen suddenly ordered and the group stopped.
“Sir!” They all replied in sync.
“You’re dismissed, stop running for the day,” he said, and the group saluted him.
“Yes sir!” The soldiers all started to run off, keeping their attention on their destination and were clear from Claire’s vision in only a few moments.
“You’re a buzzkill,” Claire grumbled.
“Both morning and afternoon, what’s your schedule?” he asked, his smirk making sure she knew; I’m your centre of attention now.
*
The medical team all loaded into the med centre, a collection of shipping containers all opened up to create a working space for a little clinic, as well as an operating room towards the back in its own container, in case of major injury. In a nice white and pale blue striped dress, covered by the medical team vest, Claire was feeling a little more in her element. Claire and Zia went over the day - blood tests for all the soldiers, making sure they’re fit and healthy, as well as treating minor injuries and concerns from the construction crew working on the power plant.
Walking to her desk, some soldiers already sitting at clinic tables with respective doctors, and a bunch more waiting, Claire noticed them following her to her table. Sitting down, she realised that the horde of them followed her and were begging for her to treat them.
“It’ll hurt a lot more if I draw blood,” she laughed, as Cian poked out his arm to her.
“I don’t mind pain, ma’am,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“Cian, I think you’re a flirt,” Claire rolled her eyes, getting the instruments ready in a tray.
“Naturally,” he winked, before suddenly freaking out, “don’t tell my girlfriend, I flirt with everything,” he shrugged, and Claire shook her head. Then, the sea of men parted for Owen, who walked in behind them.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Sir,” The group saluted, and he nodded his response. He saw Claire and turned, moving slowly to another desk.
“Excuse me! Yeah, Captain, you,” Claire called and Owen turned back, “don’t just leave, everyone needs blood drawn,” she said, pointing to the chair in front of her, and Owen walked awkwardly back to her. Claire put a tourniquet around Owen’s bicep, and prepped his arm.
“It’ll sting a bit,” she said, looking for the spot on the ridge of his elbow where she could stick the needle in. She jabbed at one point and Owen hissed suddenly, “that’s strange, I can’t find a vein,” she said, and Owen leaned in slowly, glancing around to the men that were watching this all very intently.
“I always carry a gun. A fully loaded gun,” he whispered to her.
“Do you?” she asked, and he nodded. “Then shoot me,” she shrugged and Owen straightened as Claire tried again. “is this it?”
“Ah!” he hissed, “if you’re still mad at me about what happened yesterday,” he said slowly.
“I’m not as petty as you think,” she smiled, looking down at his arm again, “is this it -”
“It’s here,” he said, sticking the needle perfectly into his arm. Claire sat stunned, looking back to him and he smiled to her, “put the blood bottle in already.”
“Right,” Claire said, clearing her throat, finding the blood bottles and putting them at the end to finally draw the blood. Owen watched her, and a wave of embarrassment washed over Claire - she concentrated on his arm and nothing more.
As Claire was putting a bandage on his arm, there was a loud crash somewhere near the camp that made the entire med centre jump. Doctors became more alert and the soldiers seemed a little more at attention - two different responses, but one of instinct in both regards. Owen got his communicator, patching through to a desired frequency and called to the receiving end.
“This is the captain, what’s happening at the front gate?” he asked sternly. Claire watched Owen as his features changed. She wasn’t sure how he had so many different sides of him; playful and stern, kind and unfeeling, joy and void of emotion. Maybe it was how he felt when he saw her the day before; the sides he never got to see, he enjoyed the more.
“Front gate is fine. There’s been a car accident on a mountain road,” Alec’s voice radioed through from the other end.
“One of the construction crews trucks may have rolled,” Cian offered and Owen took in a deep breath. He gestured to his own team and a few others, making his way out of the med clinic and having the other soldiers in toe. Claire watched him
*~*~*
They came upon the crash site quickly, the van turned over several times and down an embankment. They drove there quickly from the camp, and hopped out to try and assess the damage from the top of the ridge. There was little smoke coming from the van, but they couldn’t be sure from the distance they were. From where they stood, it looked to be a UN truck, tipped onto its side.
“It looks like a UN cargo truck,” Alec said, “we’ll approach and see if there are any survivors,” he said to the following soldiers. Owen nodded to the orders given. He and Alec thought alike - their orders were always the same. Walking down the steep incline, Alec went ahead and saw one of the doors opening on the side of truck.
“Freeze! Hands up!” he ordered, gun at the ready. On the ground, a little battered and bruised sat a young person, fair skin - probably American. Owen couldn’t see him fully, only from behind as he went to the other side, and saw the other UN worker. Dead in his seat. Tattoo on his arm - one he recognised. T-shirt too tight. Glancing to the other, his shirt was far too loose.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m UN. UN.” He raised his hands. Owen snuck inside the truck, past the dead driver, and unhooked the keys from the ignition. “I’m hurt, treatment,” the UN worker told them, reaching inside the trust and going for the opposite side. He was reaching for the keys. When he saw they weren’t there, he groaned.
“I’m going to assume you’re looking for these,” Owen said, tossing Alec the keys. Owen took Alec’s place as he rounded the back, opening up the padlocked trust. They seemed to be tossing a lot of stuff around - heavy equipment. Before they could investigate themselves, the UN worker turned to them abruptly with a gun in his hand. Owen disarmed him quickly, smacking the gun across the man’s face.
“Isn’t he a UN relief worker?” Cian asked, cautious of the situation. Owen had seemingly just struck a civilian.
“Relief workers aren’t allowed to carry firearms,” Owen corrected, disassembling the gun, “this doesn’t feel right,” he said, looking down at the disgruntled man.
“The guns shipment in the back doesn’t either,” Alec said, holding up a SCAR-H sniper.
“Call local,” Owen ordered and Lowery moved to action. Cian took out his gun and aimed it at the UN worker.
They waited for the local police to come, radioed ahead and gotten all the information they needed. Everything else was up to the police, and the US had no more jurisdiction on the matter. The minute they handed everything over, it was no longer their concern.
“I checked with the UN and their IDs and vehicle are all fake,” Owen said in Arabic - or as close to the phrase as he could.
“We appreciate all your help,” The officer replied, saluting Owen, and he did the same. As they parted ways, the fake UN worker in the backseat almost seemed pleased….and Owen’s gut twisted as the car pulled away.
“We have to report this to headquarters,” Alec reminded Owen, to which he sighed.
“It’s a lot of paperwork.” Owen scratched his head and Alec shoved his shoulder, shaking his head back to his captain. Owen smiled.
*~*~*
Claire’s day felt long, one soldier after the other, construction workers coming in with small injuries and just little things that took barely any of her attention - it was slow, and so unlike what she was used to. She liked the rush of emergency, the ache in her back even when she hated it - she liked the blood of it all. This, this foreign country provided worse material than what the TV gig was doing for her. Claire went to the water fountain outside, pumping the water into the large container, and washing her hands. She pushed her hair out of her face with the back of her hand, letting herself bathe in the sun, sweat beading on her skin in odd spots.
It felt like a long day - but it wasn’t even midday. Claire sighed, bringing herself to sit next to the water basin, and sighing. Maybe she craved the chaos of it all, the simplicity so mundane to her now that she couldn’t live without the anxiety of a messy accident. Maybe it was wrong to wish for an accident - but she wondered if she’d get any of that here, or if she would merely suffer through this experience from start to finish.
“Sir,” Soldiers saluted and as Claire’s attention rose up, she saw Owen walking beside Alec, quietly discussing something amongst themselves.
“Are you okay? Did anyone get hurt?” Claire asked, walking quickly over to them.
“It was a simple traffic accident. No need to worry,” Owen said, hands on his hips, and Claire was suddenly aware of how broad he was. Had it really never occurred to her before this moment that Owen was actually built to look like a marble statue? He stood tall with his stance strong and all his features carved to perfection. It was unreal.
“Are you okay? We’ve all worked in the emergency room before, so we’re prepared,” she asked, looking back to his face and trying to remain calm. She was barely holding it together. She should have been better at this. Owen smiled, nodding along.
“That’s good, I need to get going though,” he said, clearing his throat and looking towards his partner. “I’m off to headquarters,” he said to Alec and Claire nodded, trying her hardest not to say goodbye - she didn’t have to be polite.
“Alright,” Alec replied.
“Sorry. Alec, right? Can you tell me the wifi password?” Claire asked, reaching for her phone. Alec’s brow furrowed.
“Wifi password? Sorry, it’s against regulations for civilians to use army Wi-Fi,” he explained, and Claire grit her teeth.
“Ah, okay,” she sighed, kicking her foot in the dirt.
“There are internet cafes in town if you need them,” Alec explained, and suddenly Owen started to walk over, eyes wide and expression stern and angry. “Captain Grady is going past and can show you,” he said, looking to his captain, saluting him. “Sir,” Alec smiled and Claire could tell this was Alec’s way of shoving the pair together. Owen cleared his throat before gesturing towards the car. Claire nodded and headed over to it.
The car trip between them was mostly silent. It felt as though the two didn’t want to speak to each other - air so thick with tension that it made both of them cling to their side of the vehicle. Claire called ahead, trying to avoid the awful way the car fumed with this energy. She was messaged by Vivian, giving her contacts to lease a small clinic around Jacksonville. Calling the number, Claire talked at length with the woman on the other end.
“Yeah, I can send a deposit now,” she said, “I’m out of the country but I can do it online,” explaining further, “I’ll send it within the next hour and text you.” After all the details were confirmed, Claire put her phone in her lap, sitting back in the stewing tension.
Owen cleared his throat. “Are you moving?”
“No, I’m opening my own clinic,” she explained.
“Because of the fling with you and the owner?”
Claire turned to him sharply. “How do you know about that?”
“Whenever you’re not around, that’s all the rest of them talk about,” he said and Claire huffed, sinking down into her seat. “Heard from Karen that you kicked him in the crotch. Nice,” he said and Claire couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah well, that kick sent me here,” she said, scratching her face. Hiding her face from Owen, she looked out the window, seeing a small painted billboard on the side of the road. It advertised a beach with crystal waters and something on the crescent sands. “What’s that?” she asked, Owen peered to her side of the window and shook his head.
“It’s too far,” he said back. Claire folded her arms.
“I didn’t ask how far.” They sat in silence, driving past the billboard and continuing into town, the sea nearby and the air so crisp, it made Claire want to jump straight into it. Owen gripped the steering wheel a little more tightly, keeping his concentration on the road, and it seemed inappropriate to interrupt whatever he was thinking about.
In the town, Owen’s car came to sudden halt and Claire jerked in her seat. He glanced over her until his hand pressed to her forehead and pushed her back to see past her.
“You just need internet right?” he asked, and Claire shoved his hand from her skin. She cleaned her head as much as possible - the faint feeling of dirt or sweat sticking despite her efforts. She gave up, and turned to glare at him.
“Can you not put your hand on my head?” she spat and Owen turned off the car. He was already out of the car before Claire could ask him what was going on. He rounded the car, and opened the door for her.
Leading the way, Owen brought her to a one story building, with a patch of grass in the front as though it were a residential area. It wasn’t like the rest of the homes, just a little ways out, kind of out of sight but still accessible by the public. Pushing the door open, they walked in. Across the room were metal shelves lined with car parts, medical instruments, different currencies and passports to be made on location. Owen didn’t seem phased by any of it, but Claire looked through the mess with curiosity.
“This isn’t the cafe I had in mind, but it’ll be much faster,” Owen said, turning to Claire, still looking around the store. Then, a woman came around one of the many shelves lining the shop. She was blonde, not too tall, but pale - seemed American.
“Ah, the asshole soldier,” she said and Claire scoffed out a laugh, concealing it with her hand and feigning a coughing fit. Owen’s eyes narrowed on her but he still seemed amused by it.
“You have a good reputation, I see,” Claire said, clearing her throat.
“Where’s the owner? I thought Bellamy worked here,” Owen asked, scratching the back of his neck. The blonde rested a bucket full of assorted things on her hip as she leaning her hand on the front counter.
“Bellamy and I own this place together,” she corrected him.
“Where is he?”
“He’s currently held somewhere. If you know him, you’ll know he’s banned from most countries. I’ll kill him when he gets back,” she spat out and Claire raised her eyebrows, surprised by her willingness to confess as much to a soldier, “who is she?” she said, pointing to Claire.
“Doctor from the medical service team,” Owen said. Then, she suddenly stepped into Claire, breathing in deeply.
“Ah, that’s where I smelled the ethanol,” she replied and sighed.
“Who is she?” Claire whispered to Owen.
“Her real job is a nurse with another guy I know, I think this is her side job in the country,” he said, and the expression on the woman’s face changed, shifting to an uncomfortable and scared expression.
“How do you know who I am and what I do?” she asked.
“Bellamy told me once...about his wife, Clarke,”
“I’m not his wife! We’re just...co-workers,” she said, clearing her throat and tucking hair behind her ear. “What brings you here? I have everything except Bellamy,” she said, expression returning to a cold and stern facade.
“She needs to use your Wifi,” Owen said, pointing to Claire. Clarke seemed to think for a moment before rushing around the back of the store, settling things down and outwardly throwing things as she searched. Claire grimaced as she watched Clarke and turned to Owen.
“Are you sure I can use it here?”
“If you look closely, you can find missiles here,” Owen winked and Claire groaned at him, “wait here when you’re done, I’ll be back in an hour,” he said and turned to Clarke. “Keep her here for a while, and don’t fight,” he warned and Clarke shook her head, to which Owen leaned in extremely close to Claire again, “she’s got a gun,” he whispered, winking and leaving her in the company of the smiling blonde. Claire nervously smiled back.
*~*~*
Owen stood in front of Simon, his stance a perfect distance apart, and hands behind his back as he began to explain himself and his team. “At 10am this morning we transferred over one body and a member of a black market ring from the area to the local police, everything was under control,” he said, going back to ease.
“I’ve already been briefed,” Simon replied and Owen’s chest deflated, “you don’t know how high up this goes,” Simon warned, standing up and moving around his desk. It was when Simon came face to face with Owen did he realise what this all meant - that what they had stumbled upon was far out of Owen’s jurisdiction. Even so, Owen knew he couldn’t let it slide, that he could just watch this all play out for some fucked up gain on people exploiting those in the area. Either way, Owen was getting his head chewed off.
“I know you idiots in alpha team have no fear. But they have no fear and no law,” Simon continued to explain, “they smuggle weapons. Stay away from them,” Owen cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. Then, Simon nudged at Owen’s forehead - making him look directly at his superior. “You and I know you don’t have much time left here. Don’t get involved. When we get transferred back to the states, we’ll be promoted. Keep our hands clean, and everything will be okay,” Simon nodded, expecting Owen to agree. And it was an order. Owen clenched his fists behind his back and nodded sparkly.
“Yes, sir,” he replied.
“Write a thorough report,” Simon said and Owen lost his will to stand tall, shoulders sloping and hands feeling tight. Fuck reports. Stupid, long, boring reports. He wondered if he could pass it off to Alec. “And take this,” Simon said suddenly, handing over a sheet of paper. Owen started to read it when Simon spoke. “One soldier is being transferred from Descendant company.”
“Sergeant Warren?” Owen asked.
“He’s being transferred to special forces in training. It’s a direct order from the General,” Simon replied and Owen sucked in a breath.
*~*~*
It was dusty in the old building, hard to breathe in and the police vehicle rolled in. Standing there as the police officers brought out a young man in a UN shirt and three boxes of heavy material, he watched it all. They set them down in front of him. Slicked back hair, dark clothes, pale skin. Removing the scarf around his face, a deep and nasty scar ran up from his jaw to the middle of his right cheek.
The chief of police, who not hours before lied through his teeth to American soldiers, stood in front of the man. He cleared his throat as the man remained unmoved. “You cannot pretend to be the UN to cross the border anymore. They know now and have even dispatched the Americans. They’re patrolling the border now!” he said angrily, his English stunted by his own accent, but he was dealing with Americans.
And if there was one thing he knew about Americans - they don’t do anything that isn’t on their terms. The man in black moved to the boxes, removing the lid from one and grabbing a handgun. Then, he cocked it and pointed it at the chief of police.
“We switched over,” The man in black said, American accent so thick compared to the Syrian police officer.
“Take it easy!” The chief said, removing the handcuffs from the subordinate. “If things go bad there’s only so much I can do,” he replied nervously, and the man shrugged.
“Well, you know I have my people in high positions,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bundle of bills. “Dead presidents?” he asked and the chief lit up. If only he had known better. The man in black threw the cash at him, and the chief fumbled it. As he reached for it on the ground, the man in black fired his weapon and the chief was dead. He was a skilled shot and always had been. The other officers stood in shock as the chief laid dead on the floor. “Congratulations, you just got promoted. Don’t forget your present,” The man said, the bundle of money sitting beside a pool of blood, almost touched by death - and the man just watched.
He never cared for the police chief anyway.
*~*~*
Alec sat in the chapel office, staring at the piece of paper and wondering why Owen didn’t deliver it himself. He was always a slacker, handing things off to others. Alec deserved to get this from his captain. But at least Barry didn’t ask questions and knew when to leave when he wasn’t wanted. “You’re excused,” Alec replied softly. Barry saluted before he stopped himself.
“Sorry, sergeant,” he said back and Alec nodded.
“Me too.”
In the back of his mind, he knew where he went wrong - he knew exactly what he had done to deserve this. But he wished - oh god, he wished - that she never found out.
*
“Everyone stop!” a superior yelled in the mess hall.
“Attention,” General Young said and Alec stiffened.
“Sir,” said one. Alec could hear the voices behind him. He knew why the General was there, and everything in his gut twisted, everything feeling like someone was reaching inside him and rearranging all his organs for the fun of it.
“Battalions three and five are having lunch, sir,” said a captain in the area.
“At ease,” General Young said, walking the length of the mess hall. “Keep up the good work. I’m here to eat with you all today, don’t mind me!”
“Yes, sir,” replied the battalions. Then, General Young sat down opposite Alec. He didn’t move, he stayed at attention. As the mess began to empty and it was left with only Alec and the General, there was silence between them. The General had finished his meal. Alec’s went untouched.
“Are you seeing my daughter?” he asked. Alec’s mouth went dry.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m worried about Zara’s future. I hope you consider her future too,” he paused and Alec sucked in a breath, “don’t hurt her when it all falls apart.”
Alec’s hands bound in the material in his pants, fisted so tightly, he could feel his nails digging in through the material. “Is that an order?”
“I hope not, but if it has to be, it will. It’s up to you how you and I can keep our relationship honourable,” he said, and left Alex alone.
He didn’t feel like eating, and instead, he rested his head in his hands.
How the fuck was he going to do this?
She was going to kill him.
*
Alec was in the barracks, his duffle freshly laid out and his things began to pile in slowly. It was mainly his uniforms, a few different books and all the toiletries he had needed over the course of his stay. It felt strange to leave without the rest of his unit, but he couldn’t disobey orders.
Then, the only thing that was left was the letter that Zara had left in his parcel. He sighed as he looked at the writing on the inside.
Your present is on its way! I miss you so much!
Oh, she was definitely going to kill Alec.
He sat on his cot, and stared at her hand writing.
It was the closest he could get to her.
And he missed her so much.
*~*~*
There was now a silence in the car ride that was not like the one this morning. It was different - not an awkwardness that either of them wanted to avoid, but rather, an anger that brewed from something that she had not impacted on. “Did something happen?” she asked cautiously.
Owen sighed, letting one hand go of the wheel and let it rest on the window of his driver side door. “One of my men is being transferred back home,” he explained. Claire knew who would trouble him like this. And she couldn’t just let him stew in something like this. She may not be a jokester like he was - but she could try to be funny. For his sake at least.
“Square jaw?” she asked, and Owen scoffed, nodding.
“Stick up his ass,”
“Alec,” she corrected them both and Owen nodded slowly, letting out a long breath. “Are you mad because he gets home before you or sad to see him go?” she asked and Owen shook his head.
“I’m frustrated because it’s an unfair order.”
“Soldiers have to follow the orders from their superior,” Claire reminded but the way Owen rolled his shoulders made it seem like it made him even more uncomfortable.
“This isn’t an order from a superior. It’s from a father,” he said and Claire remembered. Zara was an army doctor for a reason. She tilted her head and looked to Owen, positioning herself between the
“I was wondering how Zara and Alec met. Was it through the army?”
Owen suddenly chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that,” he smirked, looking back to Claire and gripped back into the steering wheel. “He was doing this four hundred kilometer walk. Lieutenant Young was put on the medical team,” he began to explain, the depth of it was like he had been told so many times by Alec - it felt like Claire was being told directly by Alec himself.
*~*~*
Alec watched the private collapse in the river. Although it was only knee deep, everyone seemed to be struggling to stay up right with their kits on their backs. He didn’t want to wade through the water again - his ankles felt raw and limbs felt far too tired. He glared down at the private before sighing, taking a step back into the cold water. He was too nice for his own good. He pulled the private to his feet and took the kit off his back. Hoisting it onto his own, he stared down the private.
“I’ll carry your kit. If you give up, I’ll kill you,” he warned and the private yelled back.
“Yes, sir!”
“Keep walking!” Alec ordered. The private raced ahead and Alec sighed, fixing up the packs on his back and began to job up to the riverbank. There, one of the medical team members walked forward and got in his path. She wasn’t particular tall - she had to look up to see him, but she looked like every other military woman; hair pulled back in a bun, hidden under her cap and her shoulders square like a man’s.
“This is your third time coming back, right?” she asked.
“What do you want?” he snapped. He wanted to get this trial over and done with, and she was interrupting his plan.
“Take off your boots,” she ordered and Alec’s brow furrowed. She crossed her arms and stood her ground. “You love your fellow soldiers and you want to win, but if you keep this up, you might have to accept a medical discharge, Sergeant Alec Warren,” she remarked, jabbing a finger into his chest where his name tag was sown into his uniform.
“Even if I have to accept a medical discharge, I need to win this thing,” he snapped. She scoffed and smiled through his ridiculous idea.
“You’re trying to win so you can get leave to go to your ex’s wedding and make a scene?” she asked, and as he looked at her with shock, she shrugged. “Everyone talks.”
Alec straightened his shoulders and pulled away from the medical team member. “Exactly.” And he continued on, still feeling her eyes watching him as he ran off towards the other troops.
*~*~*
“Really?” Claire exclaimed and Owen smiled as the car stopped.
“Really,” he replied. “Let’s get out.” Undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car, Claire realised where they were. Well, not really. She was just so engrossed by the story, that she didn’t realise how far they’d gone from the camp. They were at the docks, where little speed boats and rowboats sat with paddles dangling in the water.
“What are we doing here?” Claire asked as she closed her car door.
“We’re going to the beach we saw earlier,” he explained, pointing to a sign by the entrance of the dock. The same picture from the sign earlier. Claire looked back at Owen. “I want to take you before you start getting too busy,” he said walking ahead of her.
“You said it was too far,” she reminded and he shrugged.
“That’s another reason. I want to spend time with you a little longer,” he said and Claire sucked in a tight breath. “Can you blame a guy?” he asked.
“I want to see a beach and hear the rest of the story, so no, I can’t,” she said back and Owen looked like he suffered a blow to the gut, but still had a smile pressed to his lips. Sucking on her teeth, Claire kicked at the dirt and cleared her throat. “So how did the rest of the story go?”
“Alec went to his ex’s wedding. With Zara,” he explained, and started down to the docks again.
“Why did Zara go?” Claire said racing over to Owen, and he looked proudly with his chin raised and smug grin on his face, walking to a particular part of the dock.
*~*~*
Alec had put on his suit, tie in hand and jumped into his car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turned his rearview mirror towards him. He really wished he knew how to tie a fucking tie, because he felt ridiculous by the fourth time he attempted. Huffing, Alec swiftly tugged on the tie, flinging the material to the other side of the car and undoing the top button of his shirt.
As he did that, the back door opened in his car, and the doctor from earlier stepped inside, sitting promptly behind the passenger seat. “What do you want?” Alec asked, pivoting around in his seat to see the doctor.
“Congratulations. You’ll be able to ruin your ex’s wedding. And what do you know, I have the day off,” she remarked, feigning a smile, but there was a secret in her eyes - something she needed from him, and something she needed him for.
“I asked what you wanted, not what you’re doing,” he repeated. She sighed, moving forward in her seat and challenging him by getting closer.
“If you go and make a scene, she’ll be glad that she left you,” she said, and Alec’s brow furrowed, “but if you go with someone else, she’ll regret leaving you. That’s my plan,” she said, sitting back into her seat and waiting.
“I..” Alec thought for a moment and then stopped, “like it,” he couldn’t help but smile.
“On one condition,” she said, the mood shifting as she pointed into the front seat. “Is that mirror turned away from me?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” she said as she started to unzip her uniform jacket. Alec felt his face grow hot and he turned around completely in his seat. Eyes forward, keep the mirror where it is. “You know who I am, right?” she said.
“Zara Young. Your father is General Craig Young,” he replied, a crack in his voice that he had to cover.
“You see, my father wants to set me up with your company commander. Owen Grady,” she said after a moment, a little flustered and moving as she spoke.
“He’s here, came two days ago,” Alec corrected and she gave a frustrated groan before handing Alec some white heels. Climbing over the gap in the chairs, Alec noticed her dress - a simple, white dress that hugged at her waist and revealed just enough to make her appear delicate, yet beautifully sexy at the same time. Alec’s mouth went a little dry.
“Anyway, tell him you’re going out with me,” she said, sitting in the front seat and putting down the visor.
Alec wasn’t sure how to tell her that Owen wasn’t that bad - but at that moment, he didn’t want to bring up that guy at all. “You don’t like him?”
“He’s too much like what my father wants, not what I want,” she explained, letting her hair fall out around her shoulders, fixing it to the way she wanted. And for a moment, Alec thought he felt his heart stop. “Deal?” she asked.
“Deal.”
He didn’t need to hesitate.
*~*~*
“So, what? Are you in some kind of love triangle?” Claire asked as Owen lead her to the boat. He got the keys off the owner - seemingly already talked to him at some point due to the friendliness between them - and he jumped on board the small speed boat. He turned back to her, frowning, but he nodded.
“Yes.”
“Is it still going on?” He returned a nod again.
“Does that bother you?” he said, tilting his head. Claire cleared her throat as Owen offered his hand. She took it, and he pulled her straight up onto the boat.
“I was just curious,” she said, trying to find her footing, but failing on the uneven surface of the boat and the waves around it. As she stumbled, Owen pulled her into him, steadying her out and their bodies pressed up against one another. Then, Owen leaned down to her, eyes focused on her.
“Looks like it bothers you a lot,” he challenged and Claire swallowed hard.
“Does not,” she said, clearing her throat and finding the seat at the back. Owen smiled to himself as he stuck the key in the ignition and drove the boat to where he was headed. Claire couldn’t hear a thing over the roar of the engine, or the crashing of the waves against the boat’s hull, so their conversations were limited to just pointing and staring off at the blue vista that befell across the area.
The wind roared in her ears, hair flung across her eyes as she gazed out across the deep blue water. It was so clear beneath them, growing lighter and lighter as they approached the sandy crescent of the island - shallow depths glimmering in the sun. Claire huffed, pushing the hair out of her face yet again to get a glimpse of the mysterious object that sat on the shore. With a clearer eye, she made it out finally, an abandoned shipwreck. It was gutted through the middle, all rusted metal and ragged edges - but it was beautiful despite its wear.
The boat stopped on the shore and Owen tied it to one of the waiting posts to keep it from floating away. He helped her down from the boat’s edge and she walked across the sand. Her shoes sunk into the uneven ground and she made her way closer and closer. The shores here were different than back home - a combination of the fine sands she was used to, and pearl like rocks that were littered amongst the rest.
“This is oddly beautiful,” Claire breathed, combing back her hair into a manageable place. It wasn’t long before Owen stood by her side, watching her as she marvelled at the wondrous carcass.
“The wreckage?” he asked, and she nodded as she moved forward. They moved in step with each other, their footsteps so in time, that they echoed as one sound.
“It’s…” she started before she became embarrassed. “I’m not going to say that,” she laughed, walking into the threshold of the aching ship and Owen following behind closely.
“Say what?” he said before moving in front of her, their path cut short in the middle of the wreckage. “Come on, Dearing, you aren’t holding out on me now, are ya?” he said, raising his brow in jest. Claire laughed, walking around the edge. Inside the ship sat white stones, large and small, all surrounding the hull on any flat surface that could hold them. It was the specks of white amongst the rusted brown that made her heart feel warm.
“It’s like a body….the bones left after everything inside has just….fallen away. Bones tell you so much about a person. If they’ve been broken, if they were fed, if they hurt. Everything about this ship tells a story of how it got here,” she explained, walking along the row of stones, wondering how they managed to find their way inside this beautiful, hollow body.
“You have a nice way of looking at the world,” he said, following after her. Claire laughed.
“I’m a doctor. Everything I know is biology. I’m not that interesting.”
“I beg to differ,” he said, a tenderness in his voice that had Claire weak at her knees. He had a charm - there was no denying it, but Claire ended things for a reason.
“Why did you become a soldier?” she asked, and Owen suddenly stiffened, taken back by the question.
“My dad was a soldier, and I always wanted to be like him. The minute I could, I joined up,” he sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. He wandered his own path, and Claire found herself following after him this time.
“So, family trade?”
“I guess so,” he said, looking down at his feet and bending to get something. He picked up a rounded rock on the sand and handed it over to Claire. “Here.”
“Thank you?” she said, “I love rocks,” she tried to smile but it was an odd gesture to her.
Owen laughed, holding her palm open and the rock sitting perfectly in the centre. “It’s a tradition, amongst locals,” he started, “if you take a rock from the beach, you’ll return with the one you came with.”
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” Claire said, trying to hand it back, but Owen’s hand folded her own, making her grip onto it and hold it tightly.
“Just….keep it,” he replied, “let’s see if it’s true.” With a smile, she was sold.
“Why is this ship here anyway?” she asked, pulling away and walking the length of the ship.
“Washed up wreckage, I suppose,” he shrugged, walking beside her again. “Haunted by the beauty around it,” he said, and Claire scoffed, an unexpected view from a man that didn’t seem all that poetic.
“Have you been haunted?”
“I have,” he said, “I’m sure you know.” Claire avoided his eye and clenched her jaw. He just had to be the charming type, didn’t he? “Are you still sexy in the operating room?” he asked suddenly and Claire’s stomach dropped.
“I’m not here to make a difference, I was pushed here against my will and…” Claire took a deep breath, her body bound in discomfort and her hand curling around the rock in her palm. “I don’t operate anymore. It’s not taking me anywhere,” and as Owen’s brow furrowed, Claire felt more ashamed of herself than usual. She wanted to get out of his eyeline - to stick to the corners and not be the centre of his attention. “I have to get back to the camp now,” she said, walking back to the boat without him.
“Right,” he said from afar, walking behind her. They didn’t speak the entire way back. The silence was needed, a finite time of joy was spent before their rift reformed and lines became clearly divided once more. Claire felt closer to Owen here...but at the same time, she couldn’t allow herself the joy of his company. It was all limited. They wouldn’t spend days like this - together and possibly happy. Countries and duties would always separate them.
Back at the camp, they saw a frantic Franklin, trying to pick up a local - and unconscious - Syrian boy but was failing to do so. Claire and Owen both rushed out of the car and brought him to the medicube, Owen laying him down on a bed. Claire listened through her stethoscope and when she heard no abnormalities, put them back around her neck.
“He just threw up and fainted?” she asked Franklin. He nervously rubbed at his arm as he remembered the events.
“Yeah, it might be malnutrition, so I put him on an IV,” Franklin explained, but Claire already knew that, “he sounded okay though,” Franklin tried to reason and Claire touched his hand to comfort him.
“It’s not pneumonia, but if it’s anemia cause by malnutrition, his condition is quite critical,” she explained, moving forward over the boy. She touched at his stomach, finding a spot where the boy physically winced, even in his weakened state. “Pain between the liver and spleen?” she muttered.
“What about lead poisoning?” Owen interrupted and Claire felt something in her gut twist. She looked at Owen, and he had a disapproving look smeared across his face.
“Lead poisoning doesn’t show acute symptoms like this kids has,” Franklin tried to reason. But Claire thought of the day before. The kids...licking and sucking at the metal she took off of them.
“Was he sucking something?” she asked Franklin and he perked suddenly.
“Yeah, he was asking for food, I think and sucking on his fingers,” he explained and Claire rubbed at the bridge of her nose.
“We should detox him first,” Claire explained, “give him high doses of vitamin C and EDTA.”
“Is it lead poisoning?” Franklin asked.
“He’s anemic with malnutrition, and he’s consumed lead, his blood cells may have mistaken the lead for food and absorbed it,” she sighs and Franklin nods frantically.
“I’ll get the medicine,” he said, rushing off to the supplies.
“Let me know when he wakes up, I can speak a little of Arabic,” Owen said, hands on his hips as he began to walk away. Claire turned and sucked in a breath.
“Thank you for your help.” She knew he was angry with her - annoyed possibly - that she wasn’t seeing something that was so obvious to him. She didn’t like how he looked down on her in that moment.
Owen stopped in his tracks. He seemed to be contemplating something, the knot in his shoulders evident from even a short distance away. “You should know the common things that afflict kids in this area,” he said sternly and Claire straightened, “you’re a good doctor, but you should have looked this up. You can’t rely on a soldier,” he said and before Claire could even retort his statement, he was gone. Claire’s hand bound tightly and she so desperately wanted to punch something. Instead, she sighed, sitting down next to the child and going over his vitals.
Putting her hand to her head, she tried to forget the frustration that was built in her now.
*~*~*
Back at the chapel, Owen started a slow walk up the stairs. I’m a dick, I’m a dick, I’m a massive dick! God, why did he have to say it like that? Why was he being like this? Everything was going well, they were enjoying each other, then one conversation happened and it derailed all the groundwork he had put in. He had to stop on a stair to just mentally kick himself over this. He really was a fuck up. Couldn’t charm the pants off a fucking mannequin.
Then, as Owen started up the stairs again, alarms started to blare around their camp. Owen looked around, unsure of anything, and before he knew it, Alec was rushing out to find him. They met on the catwalk over the chapel floor and Alec seemed agitated.
“FPCON is now in affect in the medicube,” he said, and Owen’s eyes widened. The alert went out to all soldiers. Putting on bulletproof vests, arming themselves with guns and automatics, the soldiers lined up, and Alpha team remained in the chapel as they set up all the information they needed.
With faxes being sent through, everyone printing out information that may be relevant, and Owen on the phone with headquarters - it was working chaos. Alec rushed around him, getting Rick to head down and gather the medical team, more reports and documents being sent Owen’s way.
“Is the medicube hospital our operation zone?” he asked over the phone.
“A VIP patient is on his way to the medicube,” Simon replied, his team tracking the patient from his end. It was a while before Owen heard any more news from Simon - telling him ETA and who the patient was.
“Yousef Rahal. The chairman of the Arab League was coming back from his unofficial visit to Syria to sign a middle east peace treaty and suddenly collapsed. They say his vital signs are chaotic and can’t get him to stay conscious,” Simon said over the phone and Owen got the medical documents sent through. Going through this at a glance….it made no sense. He wasn’t a trained doctor, but he had some medical knowledge for field first aid, and what he was reading didn’t make sense. Hopefully it did to the professionals. “He’s an influential person with political and royal ties, and has had a number of threats against him in the past for his views,” Simon reiterated and that was Owen’s part done. Simon was patched into the comms system, and Owen’s direct line to headquarters.
This needed to be clean.
He couldn’t fuck this up.
Paper in hand, Owen went down to the medicube, the soldiers and doctors all assembled in the one place. In the front of the pack - leader of the entire medical team - was Claire, arms crossed and avoiding his gaze at every moment. He couldn’t blame her, this was all beginning to be a fucking mess. Owen put his hand on his hip, handing over the paper to Claire.
“These are the medical records of the patient,” he said. She snatched it from his hand and turned it around.
“Thanks.”
The medical team all came around Claire, crowding her and reading all the information over her shoulder. Karen’s head met Claire’s shoulder, a frown deep in her expression. “Everything is blacked out,” she groaned.
“What information can we get from this?” Franklin asked.
“We could misdiagnose him anywhere,” Zia said, poking her head around, examining the page herself.
“Are they just lies? See here? He can’t have both,” Xander pointed out.
“I’ve had to do this,” Claire said and the group shifted. Owen wasn’t expecting her to say something like that - but she seemed ashamed of having to know it at the same time as understanding it. “Powerful enough people can fake anything. He wants to hide something about his health, and not just anyone can know his true conditions,” she explained, “with that information it could be incredibly harmful.”
Owen nodded as the cars spend up past the gate and before the medicube. Claire selected her team and rushed in with the patient in toe. Owen and Alpha team followed the Chairman’s security team.
With the chairman wired up to all the monitors and everything starting to relax - well, as much as an emergency situation could relax - Owen got contacted by Simon. “How are things?” he asked.
“Nothing abnormal,” Owen replied, looking to the security team that seemed on edge, “he’s getting first aid treatment.” The security team, black suits and strong willed men, were standing at ten feet from the chairman’s bed, with Owen and his team standing to the left of it, standing near the medical team. Owen was the closest, Claire an arm reach away.
“Report back to me if anything happens,” Simon ordered.
“Yes sir.”
Turning to the team, Owen watched them diagnose him. They read over his vital signs, each trying to come up with possible solutions to the distress they were seeing.
“Blood pressure 175 over 110, pulse rate 100,” Zia said.
“His BP is high and his pulse is fast and erratic,” Franklin analysed. Claire seemed tense, her hands bound in the bed’s barrier. She looked back and forth, hair bouncing across her shoulders as she finally took a moment to breathe. In the second, she combed back her hair, pulling it into a ponytail. It was odd to watch - prepping for battle with something far bigger than herself.
“He’s drowsy, I think he may be hypoglycemic,” Xander said, hand on his chin, scratching it across his beard.
“He’s diabetic by the chart,” “we could give him insulin,”
“Let’s treat what we know right now,” Claire said, moving
“Wait,” Said the leading security member. Owen motioned to the team to stop and Claire turned to him. “This is a prescription from the president's doctor.” Although Owen could speak little Arabic, he understood it well enough. He got handed a bottle of something and he handed it to Claire, explaining the situation quickly. She stared at the label and she wrinkled up her nose.
“Nitroglycerine?” she muttered.
“Why a blood thinner?” Franklin mumbled back. “He’s diabetic. A side effect of the insulin?” he asked and Claire huffed, shifting the weight on one hip.
“We can’t trust the chart,” she reminded and Owen watched the group intently, hands on his hips, but still maintaining a strong view of the security team that seemed ever more eager to start something, “give them to him, it’s the only shot we have right now.”
Handing off the medicine to Karen, she pushed it through his IV, the liquid pouring in. And the machines going haywire. The soldiers and security in the room straightened and hands went down to hips. The one place they could protect what they needed to. Owen remained calm, he couldn’t act on his instinct - he had two teams that would react wildly if he seemed stressed or agitated. Owen couldn’t risk that.
“His blood pressure is dropping too quickly,” Karen explained, the drastic change in his blood pressure even clear to the soldiers in the room.
“What the hell?” Zia cursed and Claire’s hand went to her forehead. Claire started to feel at his stomach, the obvious presence of bloating, or something similar through his abdomen.
“What’s going on?” Simon yelled in Owen’s ear.
“Claire, what’s the situation?” Owen asked stepping close to Claire. She shook her head, running through possibilities and trying to work it all out.
“He’s got a whole bunch of secrets. With his abdominal distension, blood pressure deterioration, my educated guess would be…” she started, her hand pressing to his stomach in multiple areas, “Hemoperitoneum,” she turned to him. Owen sucked in a breath.
“Layman's terms, please,” he asked, and Claire chuckled softly. It was odd to be in a situation where someone would have to say it. But, they both enjoyed the humour in the morbid, it seemed.
“There’s blood accumulating in the space between the abdominal wall and the organs inside,” she explained.
“What does that mean?”
“I need to open him up,” she said and Owen nodded, “We’ll perform a laparotomy. Prepare the operating room,” Claire ordered and medical team went into action.
“Yes, doctor,” the group replied.
“Hands off!” the leading security member said, gun raised and Claire’s team stopped. “Tell her to stop what she’s doing,” he said and Owen felt his hand shift down to his hip.
“What is he saying?” Claire whispered to Owen.
“You cannot operate on our president,” The man replied again, “The president’s doctor will be here in an hour.”
“The doctor will be here in an hour, we won’t allow you to operate,” Owen explained. Claire stepped forward, arguing her point.
“We can’t wait that long,” Claire said, looking up at Owen, “He will die in twenty minutes if we don’t operate,” her voice cracked, pleading with him and Owen nodded to her softly. Owen translated the phrase back, and the man stepped forward.
“I cannot allow just anyone to put a knife to the president,” he said, gun aimed directly at Claire.
“You are not listening, he will not last twenty minutes,” Owen retorted, and suddenly felt a hand bind into the back of his shirt. Claire sensed his anger, and though she was still concentrating on her patient, she seemed worried for him. Maybe it was the guns pointed at him.
“Only Arab doctors can operate on the president!” He argued and Owen assumed Claire understood, because she tugged on the back of Owen’s shirt softly and she seemed to relax slightly.
“Everyone stand down,” she ordered, “As soon as I take my hands off….he’ll die,” she said and the room went tense. Owen wanted to grip onto his gun, make sure this was an even fight - he couldn’t do that right now. Alarms started to become more erratic, a warning of the impending chaos that might ensue.
“His BP is dropping again,” Karen reiterated, and the room stood still, not moving and listening to a man dying.
Owen’s comms started to pick up, crackling in his ear as Simon patched himself through. He knew what Simon was like - efficient work, no headaches. Everything in his books needed to be perfect. Owen’s jaw went tight as Simon spoke.
“Listen to me, saving his life is not our concern. Our concern is who is responsible, do whatever the Arabs want,” he said and Owen agreed with him. “Even if the patient dies, it’s entirely the doctor’s responsibility for not operating on her patient.” That’s when Owen’s stomach sank. He shifted his gaze to his shoulder, seeing Claire’s red hair out of the corner of his eye. She’d be the one to blame. Owen swallowed back his anger as Simon said, “We shouldn’t get involved, that’s an order.”
Alec looked to Owen and he stared back. Could he trust his friend to know what he was thinking. Owen nodded and Alec....Alec shifted his weight on the balls of his feet.
I’m about to do something stupid. You in? Owen said in a glance.
Kill me. Yeah, I am. Alec said with a roll of his eyes.
They had sealed their fate.
“Do you think you can save him?” Owen asked, and Claire stuttered.
“What?” she said, muttering to herself before she formulated the words. “Well first I’d need to open his stomach, but somewhere along the -”
“I don’t need you to explain. Tell me if you can save him or not. As a doctor,” he asked, and Owen’s comms blared with Simon’s yelling voice.
“What do you think you’re doing? That’s an order, Captain!”
“Answer me, Claire,” Owen pressured. Claire jumped slightly, the tension in the room thick like a smog falling on a city. They were surrounded by it, unable to escape it without Claire’s answer. Claire chewed on her lip for a moment, quivering as she looked at the armed men behind him. “Claire,” Owen whispered and she looked back at him.
Her shoulder squared, her lip stopped shaking. As her chest rose, Owen could see the determination in her eyes.
You got this.
“I can save him,” she said. Owen sucked in a breath, turning back around. Switching his radio off, taking the earpiece from his ear and letting it rest around his shoulders, Owen took a breath. Hand ready on his hip.
This is it, dude.
Don’t fuck this up.
She’s on the line.
“Then save him,” Owen ordered, and Alpha team were in time with him. In a split second, their guns were out, cocked and primed towards the security team. Guns were aimed and ready at everyone in the room. Owen glanced to the side and the medical team were scared out of their wits. And behind him - Owen couldn’t risk it. Shifting his weight, Owen shielded Claire with his body, covering her completely. They were barely a few inches apart, but Owen needed to do this.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Claire Dearing/Owen Grady
Characters: Claire Dearing, Owen Grady, Maisie Lockwood
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Road Trips
Summary:
SUMMARY: They go east, and they go together.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Written for the second @clawenficathon for @cricket-scribbles, who wanted “calmed by touch” with a kiss, a cuddle, a happy ending, and no non-con or rough sex.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Claire Dearing/Owen Grady
Characters: Claire Dearing, Owen Grady
Additional Tags: Moving On, Post-Jurassic World, Pre-Fallen Kingdom, Unhappy Ending, Romance, Drama, Political!Claire
Summary:
maybe what they’re both refusing to acknowledge is that, after all the near-death, all the fear and shared trauma and survival instincts. they’re both exactly the same people they’ve always been.
(or how things went from terrible to good to steady and back to terrible.)
summary: He's a lost soul, looking for her. He has to find her. She's the only person that matters. // based on this prompt
a/n: uh my first clawen fic... be kind, please? i know it's angsty, but the writing prompt just clicked with me.
buy me a coffee?
Preview:
He was cold and lost. The last thing he remembered was a blinding pain in his neck, sharp and jagged, and the shattering of glass at his back. Then nothing, but darkness. Nothing but a cold void. His mind kept getting flashes of places and people, but nothing helpful. An old building, an elderly man as lost and hopeless as he seemed, but they were not what he was looking for. No, he was looking for something, someone specific. Red hair, an equally fiery personality, pale skin, and so strong. The strongest woman he knew.
Claire. He whispered her name.
Why can’t he find her? He had to find her.
He looked for so long. So long. Time seemed meaningless. He had almost given up hope, when he found himself standing outside of a cabin. It was familiar in a strange way. He stared at it for a great deal of time, wondering why this place was familiar to him, but an answer never came.
