Wasn’t expecting Muldoon to be a Keeping Up Appearances fan, but it kinda makes sense in hindsight 😆 Naming the four Baryonyx after the sisters was a cute nod to the show
Unseasonably warm and I’ve resorted to cooling myself down using the methods Robert Muldoon uses to cool down my OC while they’re out in the field. So DON’T tell me writing fan fiction is a waste of time 😎😂
Robert is still holding me tightly, his warm chest flush against my back so I can feel how fast his heart is beating, feel the fast rise and fall of his chest which is slowly beginning to even out. He exhales, his hot breath skimming the side of my face. I feel his arm move across my body as he reaches down to grab his walkie talkie.
“Nice work, Robbie. I’m close by, found a dead Othnielia in the bushes. Poor soul.”
“Damn.” Robbie’s voice crackles through the radio.
“Yeah, looks like Storm got to her before we did.”
All at once, the physical touch is becoming too much. His warmth too hot against my back, his arm too tight on my waist, his voice too loud in my ear. I’m all hot and itchy and it’s too much and I need to get away so I can breathe. I wriggle out of his grasp and take two quick steps forward, sucking in a deep breath and shaking the tension out of my hands. I feel like my insides have been zapped by lightning and now I have too much energy and I don’t know how to get it out. I’m bouncing on my toes and I take in another loud, shuddering gasp of air.
“Quiet,” hisses Muldoon, and my head snaps in his direction at the sound of his voice. My eyes are moving too fast, like they’re scared to rest on one thing for too long. The floor is lava. I’m scanning him up and down, and then looking through the leaves behind him, then looking behind me, then back at him. I can’t seem to rest on any one thing long enough to get enough information to satisfy my brain before something else takes my focus. There are too many moving leaves and branches and flickering shadows and dapples of sunlight and every flash of movement looks like something alive to my overactive amygdala, which seems to have grabbed hold of the steering wheel so that my higher cortex is left screaming in the rearview mirror. Every snapping twig and crunch of leaves and swish of moving branches is yanking at my attention by turn and I don’t know where to focus and everything is starting to blur.
“Laura,” says a voice, somewhat distantly, while I try to gather myself. DANGER, says the much louder voice which has hijacked my brain and makes me feel like I’m being hunted. Something is watching me and I need to find out where so I know where to flee. But there’s just too much stimuli, too many sounds, too much to see, too much to feel. The grass poking my ankles, the sweat dripping down my neck, the stiff, coarse fabric of the borrowed uniform. I want to yank it off, and then claw my way out of my skin for good measure.
“Are you okay?” The voice is louder now, and something touches my shoulder. I flinch hard, reeling about only to see Robert jerk his hand back just as fast. His eyebrows are drawn as he takes me in, and his attention makes me even more uneasy. I don’t like his eyes on me. I want to hide. My eyes flick to either side, my feet shifting in the grass, my legs tensing, ready to run.
Robert is still for a moment, looking me over, then slowly takes a couple of small steps backward. The space feels a little better, less suffocating. “It’s all right,” he’s murmuring now, as I eye him warily. His hands are raised placatingly, and I frown. Why is he acting like I’m going to bite him?
“Talk to me, Laura.”
I lick my lips. “H-he,” I stammer, struggling to find words. Why does it feel like my mouth is full of cotton?
Robert doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, just waits patiently for me to find words.
I’m bouncing on my feet, agitated, trying to release some of the restless energy that’s making it hard to think. “I couldn’t, he was right there and I-” I’m grabbing my arm now, clawing at it, nails digging hard into my own flesh as I try to ground myself. Everything is going too fast, like my head has been plunged into a river with a rapid current and I’m scrabbling onto whatever I can for purchase. “I, I couldn’t stop it, I didn’t-”
His hand touches my arm, closes around my wrist where I’m still clawing at my skin. When did he get closer again? Instinctively I yank my hand out of his grasp, stumbling backward. My heel catches on an exposed root and I trip, landing hard on my ass.
“Hey, whoa.” Robert crouches down so we’re at eye level again. “Slow down. I just don’t want you hurting yourself.”
I hate how he’s looking at me. I hate how I’m feeling, terrified and off-kilter and vulnerable, and I particularly hate being perceived right now. I wish he’d go away.
“If I go away for a moment, will you stay right here?”
Huh. I must’ve said that last part out loud. I look at him, then look quickly at the ground again. The concern on his face is too much for me to bear. I give a short nod.
“Verbal confirmation, Laura. ‘I will not run off.’” His voice is kind, but his words make me bristle.
I feel a surge of defiance, even though I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. I’m not even sure my legs will work right now, seeing as how my whole body is shaking from the adrenaline. But something about him making me say it is pissing me off. I glare at him, lips pressed together.
Robert sighs, running a hand over his face, his brow creased.
Oh.
I understand now. My defiance melts away in the face of the sudden onset of guilt, sinking cold and heavy in my stomach.
He’s stressed because of me. The realization has hit me like a punch in the gut, and I feel sick. I was supposed to be here to help, and instead I’ve become one more stressful thing piled onto his already stressful job and now he has to figure out how to handle this random woman’s meltdown so that he can get back to his actual job of keeping this park safe. Someone’s been hurt, or worse. There’s a Velociraptor out if its pen. There’s a serious issue to be dealt with, but he can’t yet because I’m in the way.
I’m always in the way.
I’m immediately disgusted with that last, self-pitying thought. I shove it away, along with my nauseating panic, and picture myself climbing out of my body to leave behind all of those horrible, scary feelings. I shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I’m fine.”
Robert offers his hand to me, and I flinch. He freezes, his face clouding over, and I feel like shit all over again. Before he can withdraw his hand I take it, and he helps me up.
“Sorry,” I say again.
“Don’t,” is all he says, and I want to shrink further inside myself.
Instead, I ask, “What do you need me to do?”
“Just… stay here for a minute. No,” he changes his mind almost immediately, “come with me. Just don’t say anything.”
“Will it… be okay?” I ask in a small voice. A small part of me hopes he won’t know what I mean, that he won’t realize that I’m still worried about being caught, I’m still thinking of myself and not wanting to get in trouble, even with a man twenty feet away who’s just been mauled by a velociraptor.
Robert cuts off my train of thought. “It’ll be fine. You’re in uniform. We get a lot of staff turnover here.” Robert’s face is dark at this last part, and I make the deliberate decision not to ask ‘why’. After what I saw today, I can guess why.
“Just keep your mouth shut,” he says, and I feel like I’ve been slapped. “Don’t draw attention to yourself, and it’ll be fine.”
I nod, feeling numb.
He thumbs his radio again. “Sorry, Robbie, I’m right there.” And we make our way out of the trees to join them at the other side of the clearing, where the Velociraptor still lies prone.
And so does the man.
I feel oddly detached as I take in the scene. It’s a lot worse up close, I find myself thinking, but with no real emotion behind the thought. There are men standing around, but I don’t really take in what they’re saying. Maybe they’re the capture team. Robert is talking to them, and then he’s calling someone on his radio. He looks really angry.
Someone bumps into me, and I stagger slightly before regaining my footing.
“You okay?” I hear someone say.
There’s a lot of red on the grass. I don’t really want to look at that, but it’s right there and my eyes keep being drawn to it. My eyes refuse to follow it to its source. I wonder if the compys will clean it up. The grass is itchy on my heels, and the air smells like raw meat.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I blink. A man is standing right in front of me, and I look down with some surprise to see that he’s shaking my shoulder. I didn’t even feel it. “Yeah,” I nod. “Sorry.”
“You don’t look so good. What are you doing over here, anyway?” he asks kindly, his warm, brown eyes running over my face.
I don’t answer. Robert told me to keep my mouth shut. He’s already angry, so I should do as I was told. So instead I just stare at the man. He has a nice face. He’s saying something else now, but my eyes have drifted to where the game warden is standing by the Velociraptor’s limp form, apparently in some kind of heated discussion with his radio.
“...bloody procedure, Hammond, I keep telling you. It’s-- Don’t tell me to calm down, John. This shit keeps happening, and it’s not going to-- …No, if everything were under control, we wouldn’t be picking human flesh out of a raptor’s teeth.” Robert’s face is flushed. I’ve never seen him so angry. I don’t like it. He glances at me, and my eyes drop to the ground. Red.
Huh.
I think I might faint.
No, that’s no good. If I faint, that’s one more problem for them to deal with. I don’t want to be a burden. I dig my nails into my damp palms, willing away the bad feeling. The sun is bright and hot, and the birds are louder now. They were quiet before.
Blue sky, yellow sun, red grass. Little black spots.
I sway on my feet.
“All right, that’s not gonna work. Here, come with me.”
I’m vaguely aware of being tugged along, and then we’re by Robert. He looks at me, his eyes flicking down to where the man is holding my arm, then back up to my face.
“...doesn’t look good at all… Is it all right if I…”
“...Anderson… explain later…”
I’m vaguely aware that they’re discussing something, but I only pick up bits and pieces of it. Their voices sound like they’re coming from underwater. The flies are showing up now, swarming over the… don’t look don’t look don’t look. The buzzing is assaultive, digging into my skin and ringing in my ears, drowning out every other sound.
I feel a hand touch my shoulder, startling me. I focus on the two men, who are both looking at me. I have no idea what they were just talking about. “Uh, sorry, I…”
“Anderson, go with Robbie. I need to wrap things up here, but I’ll meet up with you in a bit to check in and debrief.” Robert’s voice is cool and professional, and my heart sinks.
I’ve become a nuisance. He’s passing me off to someone else because he’s tired of dealing with me. Well, that’s fair. I nod robotically and turn to Robbie, who glances between the two of us before giving a quick nod and turning to steer me away from the surreal crime scene before us.
Makes sense, I guess. But whenever we watch Muldoon's Log or Jurassic Park, he gets scared and barks at the screen, especially when someone hears something and peers into the dark for the long time but can't make anything out, or when there's a really quiet sound that makes Robert Muldoon turn around really fast only to see nothing there, it scares the shit out of my dog.
