Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shrieking

The little raptor is less than an hour old, and the squawking coming from it seems unreal. Owen had no clue something that tiny could be so loud. He also didn't realize it apparently never stops. His sister and brother have had kids—which he never remembers being this loud—but he'd be damned if he was around for more than a few minutes. Those cries got to him, and he booked it from the room.

Owen bites his lip as he moves to the door. He has an idea of what to do, but he's surprised that InGen is so ill-prepared. As soon as he's out the door, the squawking morphs into a high-pitched shriek he's sure will shatter windows. It's at that moment a nurse decides to materialize from down the sterile hallway.

"She performed exactly how we expected her to," the auburn-haired nurse says over the screaming and hands Owen a brown lumpy package. "Now that she is responsive to you, you will need to feed her."

He doesn't quite understand the performance comment, but Owen imagines that will be explained in time. The brown paper package in his hand draws his attention because it's chilly and seems a bit gooey on the inside.

His brow raises as he looks at her. "What's in here?"

"Chicken," she replies. "All organic, free-range, sliced chicken breast. Now, you need to return to that room before she drives all the staff mad with her screeching."

"Yes, ma'am." Owen gives a nod and walks back into the room. With a wince, he looks at the raptor.

Her head is thrown back, jaw wide open with shriek after shriek comes from it. Her fragile little body quakes and shudders with each breath. He sees her tiny nose twitch. Suddenly her maw snaps shut, and those bright, yellow eyes are on him.

There's a certain clarifying moment Owen has in which he realizes she was crying for him. He assumes that's what the nurse was talking about when she mentioned performance. They wanted to make sure she imprinted on him.

When the raptor's stomach jolts, Owen's body tenses. By the time he reaches the incubator, her stomach has jolted again and a 'iccup' has left her little jaws. His head turns slightly to the side as there's another jolt and 'iccup!'. The right side of his lips twitches upward.

She's worked herself into hiccups.

It isn't long before she's squawking at him again, but he's smiling as her cries are interrupted by 'iccup!' Owen places the package on the corner of the incubator.

"All that crying and look where it got ya." Opening the package, he pulls a piece out a glossy pink and white chicken. He dangles it above her snout. "I didn't go far. And you're going to have to deal with me leaving. I have no intentions of staying in here."

Instead of eating it, she continues her squawking-hiccups leaving him a bit confused. He tries to place it in her open squawking mouth, but after she almost chokes on it with a hiccup, he realizes that isn't a good idea.

Placing the chicken back in the package, he wraps it up as another plan comes to mind.

Taking a deep breath, Owen flexes his fingers and tries to get his mind straight. He's the trainer. He's an employee. He's contracted for two years. His job is not to form a bond with the raptors. He'd already named the six eggs "spelling alphabet" accordingly.

On all accounts, her name should be Beta.

He intended for it to be Beta, but he slipped. He took one look at her—at those gorgeous blue markings—and something deep in him just knew her name was Blue. Even though she was only born a short time ago, he can't bring himself to change her name. He swears he'll do better with the others. This one is a novelty.

That's all.

With that in mind, Owen reaches in and gently picks up his hungry gir—no, the hungry raptor who is swaddled in a brown blanket with blue and pink polka dots his mother sent.

While his mom doesn't approve of his job, she's attempting to mend the burned bridges with this blanket meant for his…mission.

"Come here, Blue." Sighing, he supports her head and cradles her against his body which earns him a soft whine. He listens for the tell-tale 'iccup!' but she seems to have calmed. "So, you just need a little TLC? I can't provide that. Not good at it."

Once she's snug and begins squawking again in his arms, he looks at the chicken package. How is he supposed to hold her and pick that up? His lips purse as he realizes that parents do it every day. But he's not a parent. No.

He's the trainer.

His brow furrows. The more he looks at it the more he figures it shouldn't be too hard to pick up the chicken while the raptor is in his arms. He was—is?—in the Navy after all. This should be a cakewalk.

After several arm adjustments, he manages to hold the little raptor with one arm and lift the package with the other. Smiling at his accomplishment, his moment of glory is quickly snuffed out when he realizes there's nowhere comfy to sit. The hard plastic chair is definitely not an option, so he opts for the floor.

Slowly, Owen lets himself slide down the wall before finally snuggling into the corner. The little raptor is still squawking as he juggles her again and opens the package with one hand. Pulling a strip of chicken, he holds it to her snout.

With yellow eyes glued to him, her white teeth show how razor sharp they are as she bites into the piece and rips it off. Owen's impressed as she quickly downs the first piece. He's careful not to get his fingers near those daggers as he's sure that would hurt. There's no way he's willing to risk a bite, so by the time he finishes feeding her, he's left with a pile of tiny pieces.

A large yawn comes from her tiny mouth. Tired, heavy-lidded eyes continue to gaze at him which is surprising. To her, apparently, there's been nothing but him in this big, wide world.

As he slowly rocks her, she yawns again, and he finds himself yawning as well. It's been a long, eventful day with her hatching.

At some point, Owen begins to hum, and he knows the song in the back of his mind. He can't quite place it as the hour grows late. He doesn't care to as he sees she's finally fallen asleep. He sighs and slowly returns her to the incubator. Thankfully, she doesn't stir. Good, now he can get some sleep as well.

Chapter Text

The Mysterious Case of Garner's Finger

The rattling of plastic on a wood surface does nothing to wake him. He's too busy dreaming of surfing, working on his motorcycle, and oddly enough, fingers. When the jingle starts going off, it's another story.

Owen's tumbling out of the twin bed, smacking into the small, wooden nightstand and finds himself tangled in sheets with his back on the floor. He stares at the ceiling and isn't quite sure where he is. All he knows is that there's a bright light shining from somewhere.

What time is it? he wonders and begins pulling himself from sheet prison. Tossing them to his bed, he rolls to his knees and runs a hand through his hair. His brow scrunches as the rattling starts again. He knows that sound, but he can't think.

As the jingle stars again, Owen is suddenly aware that his phone is ringing.

Pulling the old Nokia 3310 from his nightstand, he doesn't recognize the jumble of numbers. For only a moment he thinks about not answering it. However, if the dinosaurs are loose on the island he doesn't want to be sleeping when the T-Rex bursts through his wall.

That wouldn't be a pleasant surprise.

There's a soft click before he places the phone to his ear.

"'Lo?" Owen manages to say as he crawls into bed again and flops onto his back.

The shrieking in the background says it all.

"Mr. Grady!" A woman shouts above the noise. "You need to return to the Hammond Creation Lab, now! Your raptor has awoken and is hungry!"

He rubs an eye and thinks the answer should be logical. He grumbles a reply. "So...you feed her."

"What?" the woman shouts.

"Feed her!" he yells and hangs up. Tossing the phone on the nightstand, he throws an arm over his face with a 'huff'.

People should know better. He's not a scientist with some fancy title, and he knows the raptor should be fed.

The next thing he knows is that he's wet and cold.

Leaping out of bed, he shouts every four-letter word he can think as he reaches for something to block his attacker. When his fingers grasp his lumpy pillow, the light clicks on and he's nearly certain he's growling like a Gremlin in the light—feels like he's dissolving as well.

Through squinted vision, Owen can see two InGen guards at his bedroom door: a dark-haired man and a brunette woman. The man looks him straight in the eyes, while the woman stares at the corner of his ceiling.

"What the hell?" Owen questions as his eyes slowly adjust to the light. He lets out a huge yawn.

"Mr. Grady," the woman says as she continues to look up. "Your presence is mandatory at the Hammond Creation Lab. You are required to feed the asset."

"Why can't they feed her?" he grumbles. His brow rises as he continues to look at the woman. "And what's wrong with you?"

The man clears his throat. "Mr. Grady—"

"Owen," he interrupts. He's starting to perk up a bit due to adrenaline, despite his muscles arguing that they still want to be in bed.

"Owen," the man repeats with a stiff nod. "You'll…You are required to put on clothes when you come in."

Heat floods his cheeks as Owen places the pillow over his crotch. He can't believe he forgot that, even in the heat of the moment. He draws a deep breath. "Right, clothes. I'll get on that."

When he crawls in the back of the Jeep ten minutes later, he's fully dressed, but the adrenaline from earlier has worn off. Owen lays across the back seat as the male security guard begins driving toward the facility. He makes note that the female guard still won't look at him which gives him cause to smile as his eyes close.

It seems like seconds later he's being shaken awake by the man.

"Owen, we're here."

With a yawn, Owen slides off the warm leather and into the cool, night air. He stretches and his several joints pop with a soft crack.

Trekking into the facility, he's immediately greeted by a familiar shrieking. He sighs loudly and despite the ear-piercing cry, he can still feel his eyes begging to close.

Trudging to the incubation lab, he's greeted by a dark-haired woman.

"Good morning, Mr. Grady. I'm Doctor Lisa Garner," she greets over the noise, and he recognizes her as the woman on the phone. "I must say, you are quite hard to wake."

Instead of responding, Owen pulls out his phone and checks the time. It's 17 past 0100 hours. He's barely been asleep an hour. And it's not even enough to count as morning. No, the weird morning people don't start getting coffee for at least four hours.

With a yawn, he looks at the woman. "Why am I here?"

"I assume you didn't fully read your contract," she responds and guides him into the room.

Owen looks over to see the raptor shrieking as her body shakes uncontrollably. Her nose twitches and those yellow eyes settle on him causing her to quiet. "I'm supposed to train them. What didn't I read?"

"Your beta is your responsibility. You are to feed her and raise her."

He scratches his head as the raptor starts squawking. "I'm supposed to do this with all of them?"

"The others we will help with," Dr. Garner explains. "This one is solely you as she is to be the lead. I've heard you should pretend as if she's your daughter."

Owen blinks. "If you haven't noticed, I don't have kids. Don't you think there might be a reason for that?"

The woman shrugs. "Look, you're not my ideal candidate for this process. I personally think you'll kill the specimens, but this is what has been agreed upon."

There's a wall that builds in him as Dr. Warner refers to the raptors as specimens. He considers it cruel and severe. These creatures that shouldn't even be alive are living and breathing. They deserve some respect.

He lets out a huff and looks at the raptor. She squawks at him in response. "Can I at least get a comfier chair?"

"It will be here in the morning," she responds. "Also, there is a manual on the counter for you to read. It will explain how these specimens are to be treated. This one will need to be fed every two hours. Her development is vital as future pack leader."

Yada, yada, specimen, yada is all he hears from her as he approaches the incubator. For a moment, he contemplates her being eaten by one of the raptors since she doesn't seem awed by them in the least. He'd suffice with even a snap.

Walking over, Blue is still swaddled in his mother's peace blanket, and she's squawking like he didn't just feed her.

On the edge of the incubator is another package of chicken. He moves to grab her when her teeth lash out and sink into the spot between his thumb and index finger on his right hand.

"Son of a bitch!" he hollers which spooks the raptor into letting go. She shrinks into the blanket. He moves his left hand to catch the blood when there's a flash of teeth, and she's suddenly latched on to his left forearm. "Mother Fu—"

"Mr. Grady?" Dr. Garner questions as she moves to a cabinet. Pulling some gauze and clear liquid from the cupboard, she walks to him. "It looks like you have a few things to learn. You should read the manual."

He's prepared to tell her where she can put that manual. However, he needs to be free of the leech. So, Owen holds out his arm, and the little raptor dangles like a worm on a hook. It whines and lets out a muffled shriek. Dr. Garner grabs the raptor roughly by the pelvis. Before she reaches Blue's mouth, the raptor has turned and snapped at her.

She drops the raptor in surprise leaving Owen to fix her mistake. He's lucky to catch Blue before she hits the ground. Placing her back in the incubator, she starts squawking again.

Part of him wants to congratulate the little raptor, thank her for biting the cocky doctor. However, his eyes are wide as he wonders if she can understand the cruel word. She's a creature, so she can't.

Right?

Dr. Warner goes to the sink, stringing along several curses under her breath as she bandages herself before returning and bandaging him.

"You were spared a deep wound," she says through gritted teeth. "Be thankful this doesn't need stitches. Once these specimens begin to grow, it's easy to lose an arm."

There is it again. That word. Didn't she learn from the snap?

His muscles tightening, and Owen can't understand why. Just because he doesn't agree with Garner's terms doesn't mean he should be angry. And he definitely shouldn't be silently hoping the raptor bites her again...

Owen casts a narrowed glance at Blue who is watching from the safety of her blanket. Her wide, yellow eyes are on him, and her head is lopsided. If he ventured a guess, it would be she's confused as to what's going on.

Once Dr. Garner finishes, she points to Blue and lectures him. "You need to read the manual. These specimens aren't your pet dog."

"No, Scruffy was not a velociraptor," Owen comments with a look at Blue.

It's then the world slows. The little raptor strikes like a snake, and her tiny white teeth catch the end of the Doctor's finger. Eyes widen as his jaw drops. He can't believe it.

And that's how Lisa Garner lost the tip of her right index finger.

As she exits the room screaming obscenities, Owen picks up a silent Blue who has chosen to study the woman leaving. He massages the back of the raptor's neck and looks down at her. "That's my girl."

Blue looks up at him and squawks.

"Don't get used to this," he mutters and receives another string of squawks all varying in pitch.

With eyes closed, Owen sighs. This is going to be one very long night.

Chapter Text

Cut the Crap

Led Zepplin's Kashmir is jammin' as Owen attempts to assemble the IKEA rocking chair he was given. While there's a "spare no expense" motto at Jurassic World, God forbid they give him something that will actually hold up longer than a few months.

Wait.

Perhaps that's why they got it.

He won't need it that long.

Blue is strapped in a car seat next to him, swaddled in the peace blanket. The car seat is actually another peace offering from his mother. When it arrived early this morning, he nearly had a heart attack over receiving a Graco product.

With a sigh, Owen glances to the car seat.

He's not a father—has no inclination to be. And words like "Click Connect", "Stylus" and "Travel System" are really scary. That didn't seem to stop his mother from sending the multi-use car seat, though. The fact it can morph into a stroller terrifies him. Even now if he glances at the box sitting in the far corner of the room, he can feel his heart race.

Owen is frightened of the idea, truth be told. He'd probably kill the infant. He's lucky he hasn't killed this one yet. It's only been less than 48 hours since she's hatched, so he supposes there's still plenty of time.

Looking over, Blue's yellow eyes haven't left him. She observes his every move, and Owen wouldn't be surprised if she begins helping him as soon as she can walk.

"Trying to find, trying to find where I've been…" he sings as he screws what he thinks is piece J into piece M. While it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, he does what the Swedish directions ask.

"Daaaa, daah, daaa, daaa, Da, da. Daaaaah, Daaah, daaaah, daaaah, da, duh, duh, dun!" he hums along with the music.

A soft cooing in the direction of the car seat grabs his attention, and Owen looks at Blue.

Her wide, yellow eyes are gazing at him. Her mouth is slightly open. He would believe she was hot if the room wasn't in a competition with Antarctica for the coldest weather. With the way she's somewhat squinting, he wonders if she might be smiling.

Can she do that?

Is that...possible?

His lips slowly begin to turn upward. If he thinks about it in that light, the sight is endearing. He knows that dogs can smile, so why couldn't a raptor?

Blinking, he swallows roughly and moves back to his chair project.

Owen doesn't like her, can't like her, won't like her. She's just another being in his life that will destroy him if he lets her too close.

Tossing the screw drive in the pile of chair pieces, he stands and crosses his arms. The room suddenly feels much too small. He's having trouble filling his lungs with fresh air. The silence in the room is deafening.

A coo pierces the quiet and grabs his attention. He draws in a deep breath before looking down at Blue out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth is still open, and her jaw opens wider in a louder coo.

"No," he warns firmly, and she blinks before her eyes widen. "Don't look at me like that."

Her maw slacks in a wide yawn, and her tongue licks the front of her lips.

"Stop it."

She rubs a tiny, clawed hand over an eye.

"Cut it out."

Blue's little head wobbles as she stretches her neck. She then snuggles her face against the peace blanket.

"You're not allowed to be cute," Owen argues.

With a soft, sighing coo she nestles her head into the fabric and peers up at him with heavy, lidded eyes.

While he knows she's due for a nap, and he has about eighty-seven minutes until she needs to eat again, Owen can't deal with it.

He's out the door and barely made it two steps before the shrieking starts. The sound reverberates deep in his bones and bangs against his soul. The tugging feeling on his heart roots him to that spot.

"Son of a bitch..." he mutters and turns.

He knows he's a fool as he walks back into the room. Despite seeing him, Blue continues to shriek. Owen flicks the clips that hold her and gently pulls her from the car seat. Cradling her head, he holds her like an infant and slowly rocks her back and forth.

It's only then that she quiets down. She nuzzles into him and breathes in deep. Her blinks grow slower and slower until her eyes stay closed.

He shakes his head and lets out a long, slow sigh.

God…what am I doing?

Chapter Text

Special Ops

Owen's pretty sure he's never been this frustrated in his life. Nothing he went through in the Navy was as confusing as the pile of wood in the corner. He casts a dark glance toward the kindling and wonders if he lit it on fire how long it would take the fire alarm to go off.

Stupid, fucking IKEA chair, Owen thinks as he walks to the incubator.

As usual, Blue is gazing at him. For a moment, he wonders if there's some form of camera placed in her eye. Maybe InGen is screwing with him. Maybe they're watching his every move. Maybe that's why she cries every time he leaves.

With a sigh, he touches the speckled egg next to her. He knows the raptor in there is alive by the way it occasionally shakes, but it's not ready to hatch. That's a good thing since he has to run out. Crossing his arms, he shifts his weight to his left foot and looks at Blue.

Owen needs to retrieve survival necessities. There's absolutely no way he can stay cooped up in here with a plastic chair, sterile white walls, and silence. He casts a glance around the room before his eyes settle on the only thing he brought today.

As the plan forms, he pulls out his phone and opens his text.

'Meet me at my bungalow. Bring a truck.'

Turning, Owen picks up the backpack he brought and brings it to the incubator. He then looks at Blue. "Please don't be a pain in the ass."

She continues to gaze at him, and he doubts she understands. A deep breath enters his lungs as he glances over his shoulder. He doesn't hear anything in the room apart from his heart that begins racing and the quick breaths of the raptor.

Looking back, Owen slowly lets out the breath he was apparently holding and unzips his bag. Wrapping Blue in the peace blanket, he picks her up and places her in the backpack. He glances at the door before looking down at her.

"I can't sit in this room without a comfy chair, and that thing over there is crap. Absolute crap," he says as his fingers move to the cold zippers. "So, here's the thing. I can't leave you here because people don't wanna hear you bitchin. That means you have to come with me."

Slowly, he pulls the zippers up. He then slowly lifts the backpack onto his shoulders and turns for the door.

As Owen walks down the hall towards the doors, he questions his life choices.

How in the hell did he end up in this mess? When he signed up for raptor trainer, he didn't read "must be capable of kidnapping a raptor that will scream if it loses sight of you" in fine print. If he saw that, he would have at least dressed in black and brought gloves for that Special Op.

Slipping quietly out the back of the main building, Owen moves for his motorcycle propped under a tree when his phone starts buzzing. His heart begins to pound as he pulls it out of his pocket.

'Y mst we meet there?'

He shakes his head.

Barry really is trying to understand the idea of texting, but clearly, things are a bit…off.

Before meeting Owen, he apparently never did that sort of thing. In fact, Barry has doesn't seem to be much of a phone man in general, and Owen doesn't understand why. Occasionally, they are helpful.

With a glance toward a trio of nurses walking toward him, Owen hits reply.

'I need help getting some things.'

Hitting send, Owen climbs on his motorcycle and smiles at the nurses. Unfortunately, there's a small shriek from his backpack and Owen immediately begins coughing. It's not enough to distract them, because the nurses begin looking around. It's at that moment, Owen chooses to start the motorcycle.

"Did you hear that?" asks one in green scrubs.

"It sounded like a dinosaur," says the second, who's in blue scrubs covered in clouds and suns. Internally, he nicknames Miss Sunshine.

"Well," Owen says with a half-smile, "We do work at a dinosaur park. And they do make those noises."

The second shriek—which is louder than the engine—doesn't help his situation. From the sound of it, he thinks maybe Blue has some pterodactyl in her.

The third nurse, in Pink, looks at him. "Aren't you that Grady guy who's playing daddy to the baby raptor?"

He holds up a hand and shakes his head. "No, no. I'm not a da—"

"He is!" exclaims Green and with a bat of her lashes, she grins. "Your little girl is so adorable!"

"I'm not a dad."

Miss Sunshine sighs. "Oh no. Is it screaming inside again? I can't go back in there if that creature is going to shatter my eardrums."

"Hey," Owen snaps and revs his engine. "First, she's only a baby. Second, she was sleeping. I'm just running home to get clothes. And third, if she annoys you that much maybe you should look for another job since clearly, you can't handle it here."

When the third shriek goes off, he doesn't even say goodbye. He takes off down the path toward his bungalow. By the time he reaches it, the raptor is full on shrieking and his ears throb.

Why does she have to be so loud?

Stopping the motorcycle, he climbs off and the raptor quiets. His shoulders heave as he expels a sigh. At least she's quiet—

Curses fly out of his mouth as something sharp digs into his back. He elbows the pack which draws a yelp. It's only a matter of moments before something sharp is in his back again. He's grumbling as he makes his way up the porch steps and curses leave his lips every time he gets stabbed.

Once inside, he flings the backpack off and throws it on the chair. A ki-yi comes from the bag before it goes still. He's suddenly rushing to the chair and tearing the backpack open. He has to dig through the peace blanket to find the little raptor curled up inside.

A loud sigh leaves his lungs as he pulls the little creature into his arms. "God… I'm sorry. I don't think you realize how sharp your nails are. They hurt! And you've torn up my backpack..." he adds with a glance to the holes in the back.

When her teeth snap around his right arm, he lets out a scream, but Owen knows he had it coming. He rolls his eyes before raising his arm. He doesn't know how to get her off and attempts to scratch her stomach. Owen could swear that he saw on some animal show that's the way to get crocodiles to let go.

No, wait, you punch those in the throat.

So maybe it was a shark?

Or dolphins?

Perhaps it was on Mythbusters and proven not to work.

He can't remember.

Blue is still dangling from his arm when Barry walks in. The man freezes, furrows his brow as his eyes slowly take in the scene and look Owen up and down. He's quiet for a few minutes before he scratches his head.

"A little help?" Owen asks.

"I do not think a little help is what you are looking for," the man replies.

"I just need to get her off my arm. Do you know what to do?" Owen questions. "This really hurts."

Barry approaches and inspects the situation. Little lips peel back as Blue's gaze turns on the stranger.

"No, please," Owen sighs. "Take your time."

Barry raises an eyebrow to him before crossing his arms. "Do you want my help or not?"

With a nod, Owen holds the arm and, by extension, raptor closer to Barry. The man puts his hands up and shakes his head.

"If I attempt to touch her, she will bite me."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Run your fingers down her spine. She should relax and let go."

Owen settles on the chair and sets her, snuggly, between him and the armrest. Taking a breath, he runs a finger down her spine. Her gaze darts to him and that's when he notices she's panting. She must have been terrified in the bag. She's never been confined in the dark.

He purses his lips to the right as his fingers slowly slide up and down her spine. His voice is quiet, gentle as he speaks. "It's okay. You're safe. Everything is okay. I'm sorry."

Blue's breathing returns to normal as she watches him. Owen's surprised by how intense it is. There's an intelligence there which reminds him of the human race—some of them at least.

While she's clearly watching his behavior, he doesn't know to what end. It's not like she's human and could mimic his actions.

Her jaw slowly relaxes its grip, allowing her teeth to let go. Blue smacks her lips several times before closing her mouth. Her eyes never leave his, and he continues to stroke her spine.

"All better?"

She blinks.

Owen takes a deep breath and looks up at Barry. "I need to move this rocker and the flat screen to the incubation room. If I have to live there, I can't feed her from the plastic chair."

"I will get the truck ready," Barry says with a nod and leaves.

Pulling off his shirt, he wraps his arm in it. From there, he picks up the little raptor and carries her the nine whole steps from chair to bedroom. He walks to his closet and pulls out his black convertible duffle. With Blue snuggled against him in one arm, he pulls a few shorts and shirts from the closet. After tossing those on the bed, he goes to the tiny bathroom where he juggles his razor, shampoo, and soap.

It's difficult work as he starts shoving supplies into his bag. Typically, it's organized with plenty of room. Now, as he goes to grab a towel, he can barely fit it in with the sheet and pillow he snatched off his bed. He nearly forgets his underwear and undershirts before he heads back out into the living room where Barry is waiting.

"You are going to have to put her down," Barry says.

Owen's brow furrows before he looks at the raptor. "Oh, that's no problem."

He drops her on the chair, causing the peace blanket to fall off, and looks down at the recliner. He's had the over-sized La-Z-Boy for several years now. The armrests lift revealing a cup holder and a large compartment to hold his remote and possibly a sandwich. He's quite fond of the chair and semi-reluctant to use to with the raptor. With a sigh, he moves to the front of it.

"Come on," Owen says and crouches. Barry picks up the other side and they carry it to the truck. After pushing onto the tarp in the back, he flexes his arm and notices the blood has soaked through.

"Perhaps you should wrap that before we move the TV?"

He has to admit that Barry has a good idea. He isn't sure why he didn't think of it earlier. Maybe because he's used to getting injured and continuing on his mission despite it. Barry turns for the cab of the pickup and returns a few moments later with bandages.

Pulling off the shirt, Barry starts to clean the wound. "What are you doing with a baby raptor, Owen?"

"My job." Is the first thing that comes to mind. It's not entirely a lie. In fact, it's mostly true. However, he knows the question pertains more to why Blue is at his bungalow. "I can't leave her at the facility. She screams her head off."

"I suppose it makes sense she needs you in her sight. You are her parent."

"I'm not a dad."

Barry finishes bandaging his arm and looks at Owen. "She imprinted on you. That makes you her parent."

"Maybe to her, but I am still childless and intend for it to remain that way," Owen objects and walks back into the house to retrieve the television. He's barely made it in the door before the shrieking begins. Sighing, he grabs the comforter from his bed and throws it over the TV.

"You were not joking when you said she would scream," Barry chuckles as he enters and moves next to the TV.

Pulling on his undershirt, Owen then shifts to grab one side of the 52' screen. "I told you she had a set of lungs on her. It's impressive for how big she is. She weighs all of nine pounds I think."

Barry grabs the TV and looks at him. "I am impressed you know her weight."

"They measure her at least three times a day. It's annoying," he grunts as they lift the screen and move it to the truck. He slides it snug between the chair and edge. As Barry begins to strap everything down, Owen runs back inside to grab his duffle. Tossing it in the back, Owen helps Barry close the hatch.

"Do you have everything?"

"God, I hope so." Owen moves to the cab of the truck. His brow rises as he sees Barry remain rooted to the spot with his arms crossed. It's then he realizes Blue is still wailing.

With a shake of his head, he runs back in the house, grabs the peace blanket and hops in the back of the truck.

Wrapping the little raptor in the blanket, he pulls her to him and hops down. By the time he's settled in the passenger seat, Barry has the engine started.

"It is a good thing you are not a parent, Owen," Barry laughs. "You would kill your child."

He looks down at the hatchling in his arms. Her eyes are closed and she's sleeping soundly. "There's a good chance I'll kill this one."

Chapter Text

3 AM Lies

Owen's spread out in his La-Z-Boy, feet up. He has a bottle of water in the cup holder of one armrest and the remote hidden under another. The cushion beneath is comforting, like an old friend. It contours to his body just like it always does, except this time it can't seem to put him to sleep.

The bright green numbers from the clock in the corner cast an eerie light around the room like a haunted mansion. They read just after 0300 hours.

The television shows images of a Disney cartoon he's forced to keep on.

Originally, Owen had tried to watch ESPN, see a game or some highlights, but the damn raptor shrieked the entire time.

When he turned on The Rock assuming she would like Sean Connery's voice, she bit him.

Finally, he booted up Netflix and turned on Tarzan. That finally got her to quiet as she became fixed on it before falling asleep. He's afraid to turn it off for fear she'll wake up. He still has a whole 43 minutes before she needs to eat, and a nap would be nice.

Owen glances at the IKEA pieces in the corner. From here, they look like a tiny, abandoned building that's haunted by the way the green light of the clock reflects off it.

"Spare no expense, my ass," he grumbles. The chair seems to be proof that InGen doesn't care about people or creatures. They're only in it for their own gain. Selfish bastards.

Owen's thoughts turn to toward his Special Ops mission earlier.

A sly smile slides onto his lips. The staff questioned him about the television, chair, and bag wondering how he retrieved it without Blue shrieking. He insisted she was asleep when he went out, and he doesn't feel a shred of guilt when it comes to lying to InGen. He's certain they lie more than he does.

Plus, the way he views it, he needed supplies in order to make it through this excruciating trial. The simple things he retrieved are necessities. They're the only things he really needs in order to survive in life.

Especially when it's 0300 hours like it is now.

While his eyes are heavy with exhaustion, they are unable to close. Owen can feel the lead lining his muscles. He hasn't gotten a good night's sleep in several days, and that's not all attributed to the demon in his arms.

Some of it is due to this new career.

There are a few things Owen normally does if he's having trouble sleeping. However, none of those can be done with a raptor in his arms—some can't even be done with her in the room. One or two would probably be considered not only offensive, but he'd probably go to jail since he's certain Blue is considered a minor—not that he'd let her watch those types of things anyway. He's not that irresponsible. She's too innocent.

Not to mention, a dinosaur.

So, he's left staring at the television while she's snuggled against him. Owen's hoping he can trick his mind into taking a power nap, but instead he's stuck staring at the mostly naked cartoon man and his unconventional ape family. It's a bit unnerving. Especially since it appears Tarzan has muscles Owen's never seen defined on anyone like that.

Inside, the small spark in his stomach begins to grow. Something catches and before he knows it his body is lit with a burning rage. Owen hates the fact he's contained to a small room. It's sterile, white, not to mention soul-crushing. He wants to be outside, to feel the fresh air on his face. His little jaunt earlier made him yearn for his freedom again. He despises the cage he's been placed in and, by extension, the little raptor shackle binding his arms.

Does he really need this job? Is it dire he stays in the Navy? Does he really need to retire?

Sure, he only has to put in eighteen years rather than a full twenty because of the situation, but that's still two years of being confined to these creatures and this project. Two years of his life he's never going to get back.

There's a reason he's not a father—and it isn't because his ex-fiancée was sleeping with his CO.

No.

It's the fact he can't stand the thought of giving up his freedom—his life—for another being. He doesn't want to spend his time caring for another, and the raptor in his arms is no exception. Owen's no spring chicken, but he knows he's still in the prime of his life. He should be out spreading his wings. There's still a bucket list he wants to fulfill.

But he was lied to by InGen, and now he's grounded. His wings are clipped and all he can do is stare at the endless, blue sky. They assured him all he would be doing was training raptors. Not raising them. And now everything—from his family to his job—is a mess.

Perhaps he can't blame InGen fully for the family mess. It's always been a crazy situation. However, when he explained to his mother what his new job entitled she had sent him the peace blanket. Apparently, she foresaw the raising part. That must be the mother's intuition she was always going on about.

His mother had contacted him again mere hours after the raptor had hatched. Owen had been so confused by the rush of emotions he felt toward the creature that he snapped at his mom and griped about the situation.

The next morning, he received the overnighted car seat.

Again, it seemed her mother's intuition took over, which frustrates him to no end. In any case, though, she wanted to be a parent. She wanted children. She was born for that. As were his brother and sister. They are good parents.

But it's something he never wants to be.

So, when he looks down at the sleeping raptor in his arms, he contemplates how far he can make it before she screams. Telling Jurassic World—and the Navy—that he quits won't be that hard. He doesn't give a rat's ass what they think anyhow.

Of course, Barry will probably be irritated about having to move the chair and TV again. At least they won't be trying to hide a raptor at the same time. Plus, he'll probably be able to pack up what little he owns and make it to the ferry by daybreak.

All he needs to do is to toss the demon in the incubator, and he's scott-free.

Or all she needs to do is stop breathing and it's the same thing.

Owen's chest clenches. The cold rush of panic floods his veins and puts out the anger. That's something he wouldn't want. She may be annoying, but Blue is far too young to know any different. She doesn't deserve to die. She didn't ask for any of this. This situation really isn't her fault.

It's InGens.

They took the reins from God and created her. They chose what she would be. They formed her for a purpose. Blue had nothing to do with it.

She was forced into a life that holds no place for her. Dinosaurs are long gone, and humans are now the apex predator. She's alone, born into a cruel world where she doesn't fit…to him, a man who doesn't want her.

And Owen realizes how selfish he sounds.

He rubs a thumb across her cheek. He doesn't want children, he doesn't want to give up his life, and InGen has forced him to. It's their fault he's so resentful of the little life in his arms.

A little life who didn't choose to be born.

A little life who has no say in what she does in this world.

Because just like him, InGen dictates her path and owns her, too.

Chapter Text

Chicken Salad of Doom

The plastic fork stabs into a piece of lettuce and then spins as it makes its way into a slice of chicken. Owen pops it in his mouth and begins to chew. His attention is captured by the Sunday sports section—at least the parts of it he can read through the holes.

Apparently, the little raptor didn't appreciate being held earlier while he read yesterday's news.

Owen considers himself lucky since she only took out the baseball news, and he doesn't read that anyway. Had she taken out the football news or hockey that would have been a different story, and he probably would have bitten her. Sure, it's not quite time for either of those two sports to be active, but since he doesn't currently live in America, and doesn't own one of those smart-ass phones, this is his only window into trades and such.

A soft cry causes him to glance up.

Blue is rolling back and forth on the freshly washed peace blanket. Her gaze never leaves him—except when he's putting chicken in his mouth. Owen needs to figure out how to rig the diapers his mother sent. It would beneficial to change a diaper instead of wash the blanket every few hours.

Do babies go to the bathroom this much? he questions as he puts another bite of chicken in his mouth. Owen's not sure, but he could have sworn he heard babies do. If that's the case, he definitely never wants one. Maybe it's better he didn't get married.

As he goes to eat another bite of chicken, Blue makes an odd sound. It reminds him of a young Simba when he's learning how to growl in the gorge before his father gets trampled in The Lion King. Owen huffs a single chuckle as he's unsure if it's funny.

Her yellow eyes are fixed on him, and she lets out another odd attempt at a growl when he brings the next bite to his mouth.

Owen's brow rises. "If you're gonna bitch about it, walk over here and get some."

Blue responds with a coo that sounds like an 'ahhhh'.

"Unless you walk your chubby tail over here, you're not getting any." He puts another bite in his mouth and goes back to his sports section. He can hear her tiny protests but pays no mind. Despite her little grunts, he doesn't bother to look at her. Owen knows he'll have another mess to clean up and starts running through ways to put her in a diaper.

A squeak, however, draws his attention. The newspaper rattles as it settles beside him. His jaw drops slightly.

Blue has her forehead slammed into the ground. Her little talons are planted on the ground putting her in a tripod position. She's attempting to use her head to push her to a standing position. Her tail slaps the blanket giving her a boost which sends her tumbling head over talons. She screeches in surprise.

Landing flat on her back with the cold tile beneath her, Blue gazes up at the ceiling. Shrieks begin to shake her tiny body as her head squirms in an attempt to find him.

Owen can't help but laugh. It's one of the silliest things he's ever watched in his life. First, who knew raptors could do somersaults. Second, the three-day-old looks like a turtle flipped on its shell.

Alerted to his position, she begins squawking and twists until she can crane her neck to see him. Blue gazes at him before she coos softly.

With a shake of his head and a soft smile, Owen scoots forward, salad and all. Biting his lip, he slowly reaches out and scratches her tummy. He can feel her body rumble and he wonders if she's purring like a cat. She then squawks.

"All right, you've earned it." He breaks up a piece of grilled chicken and pops it in her mouth.

Her lips smack as she munches on it. Her body then stills as she makes a gagging sound.

Leaning her on her side, Owen can feel his heart begin to pound as Blue continues to choke. He pulls her from the cold tile and places her, straddled, on his left arm. His left-hand cups her bottom jaw. With his right hand, he hits the middle of her back and slides up. Once he's repeated it five times, he flips her onto his right arm and presses down on her stomach five times.

It's several worrying seconds, and three repetitions later before chicken flies out of her mouth and skids across the floor. Her chest rapidly rises and falls. She begins shivering like leaves in the wind.

Owen shifts Blue into his arms and pulls her closer. She presses herself against his body, snout nuzzling into his clothes.

"Don't get too comfy," he warns, but lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Chapter Text

Last Laugh

Owen's finding out there are certain perks to working at Jurassic World. He gets tons of free food. There's free satellite which includes all the sports channels. Free overnight shipping to and from the park...

Well, the last one he isn't considering a perk at the moment.

His mother has sent him a care package every single day since the little raptor hatched. While it's only been three days, he's majorly done with the baby products. Blue doesn't need Johnson and whatever shampoo. She doesn't need Gerber baby food. She definitely does not need pacifiers. His mother can't seem to understand that this isn't an actual child.

It's a genetically modified...creature?

When this morning's parcel arrived, Owen was again disappointed to see more diapers and what looked like a large, jumbled-up, black spider. His mother couldn't have sent him snacks? Socks? Family pictures even?

No.

She had to send something for the raptor.

What kind of mother was she? The next time he called her, Owen was going to have to break it to her that the 'baby' had sharp teeth and growled. It didn't sit, smile and laugh—nor would it ever.

At the moment, though, Owen's studying a diaper lying next to his pocket knife. Every so often he peeks over at the little raptor gazing at him from the blanket. She hasn't exactly moved. She just lays on her back, biting her claws from time to time, and cooing every once in a while.

Owen thinks she's a bit crazy.

Picking up his knife, he taps the blade on the counter. He has a lot of options here but isn't sure how to go about this mission.

Pursing his lips, he finally reaches for the diaper. Picking it up, he flips it around. He then points his knife to a random spot on it. "So, if I make a slit here…?"

The blade slices through the diaper making a small hole he hopes is wide enough for a tail. Setting the knife on the counter, Owen walks over to the raptor on the floor. She hasn't moved, but coos louder as he approaches. Little claws reach toward him. Her body twists slightly to the left.

Bending down, he picks her up and cradles her against his body. "Come on, you little pest."

She coos again as her head slams against his ribs, and she nuzzles into him. Owen heaves a sigh. While he can feel the annoyance in his tense shoulders, he also keeps reminding himself that she isn't to blame. It's not her fault he has to raise her. It's not her fault he has to live in this cold, sterile, examination-like room. It's not her fault he can't sleep because she's either eating or demanding his attention.

With a shake of his head, he reaches the counter and plops her onto it. She squeaks when he grabs her legs. A louder cry sounds as he lifts her bottom up and slides her tail through the hole in the diaper. He then slips the front through her legs and pauses.

Do the tape tabs go in front or back?

Looking to the box, he sees the tape tabs are in the back and latch forward—unlike what he has now.

"Crap," he grumbles and throws it away. "Why does this have to be so difficult?"

Blue coos in response.

Owen grabs a second diaper and makes a slit in it. Biting his lip, he slips her into the new one. With a quick yank, he pulls off the tabs. Grabbing one side of the diaper, he does his best to tape it together. However, when it doesn't stick, he realizes that by ripping off the tabs he's ruined the diaper.

"Damn it," he mutters and throws the second away.

The third he accidentally slices in half.

The fourth one, Owen is positive he'll get right. He makes the slit just right and pulls the right tab to latch over the front. There's a smirk on his face as he goes to latch the left side. He knows he's conquered the diaper feat. He should get an achievement award for it. The smirk fades, however, when he realizes the left tab won't reach the front of the diaper.

"Shit," he grumbles and tosses the fourth diaper.

With a loud huff from him, the tabs of the sixth one stick to the little raptor instead of the diaper.

Number nine, he thought he nailed until he picked up the little raptor and it slipped off.

By nineteen, there are diapers all over the room—including one on his head. He prays to God he's nailed it only to realize moments later, Blue's peed in it.

"Son of a—"

The twenty-first diaper, he finally manages to strap to her snuggly.

Standing back, he crosses his arms. His chest puffs out and a smug smile makes its way onto his lips. Looking down at her, Owen laughs softly which sounds more like huffs.

He has just conquered the world.

Until Blue lurches to the right with a screech and slides off the edge. Owen's suddenly lunging forward as she slips from the counter. In the chaos, the knife goes flying, and he slams his head into the counter on his way to the floor. He manages to catch the little raptor and pull her into his arms as he lands on his ass. He's mid-curse when the knife catches up with him and slices his thigh.

A long string of unmentionable words leaves his lips before he looks down to make sure Blue's all right.

The little raptor gazes at him with an open mouth and squinty eyes. He then hears a soft huffing. It takes him a moment before his jaw locks, and his eyes narrow.

The little shit is laughing at him.

Chapter Text

Care Package Denial

"Ma—"

"When do I get pictures of her? Are you having a photo shoot? Do you need anything else for my little girl?"

Owen swallows a sigh. The phone sits stuck between his ear and left shoulder as he untangles the large, black spider which apparently is some type of baby holder. He glances at the directions and grimaces. It's just as confusing as the IKEA rocker. "Mom, she's not your little girl."

"Right, she's your little girl."

His heart begins to pound. Muscles tense. Air lodges itself in his lungs. No, he's not a parent. He does not want to be a parent. Not ever. His mother has it all wrong. "No, she's not my little girl, either. You do realize she's not even hum—"

"Honey, did you like the dress and hat?" his mother interrupts. "Does she look adorable in it?"

Buried under the diapers and baby holder in the recent package, there had been a pink sundress with light pink sketched butterflies all over it. To make matters worse, it came complete with a matching hat. He couldn't believe his mother had sent it—not that he should be shocked at this point.

Glancing toward the little raptor babbling in the car seat next to him, he groans. "Mother, this is a velociraptor. Haven't you googled it yet?"

Blue's gaze is currently focused on her claws that she keeps clicking. Her little talons kick out every few minutes. Owen wonders what he's done in life to deserve this. He can't stand kids and yet he's forced to raise a raptor. He hasn't been that bad of a person, has he?

"O-wee, I don't understand a lick about goggles. There's no way I could find it, and I'm not asking your sister. She's too busy with the kids," she replies. "All I want to know is if the dress fits my little granddaughter. Does she need a bigger size?"

Pulling the knife hooked into the back-belt loop of his pants, he positions the blade in the back of the baby holder. Gingerly, he starts making a cut in the back. Threads of fabric stretch and snap as the knife slices through. It's calming work in spite of the terrifying conversation. It gives him something to focus on, so he can breathe again. "I'm thirty-three. I'm pretty sure I'm a bit old for that nickname."

She laughs softly. "Wait until you give your daughter a nickname, then you'll understand it stays with you for life."

"But I don't have kids," he objects.

Owen doesn't understand why she can't seem to grasp that. He's highly annoyed by it. Everyone seems to think he's supposed to be raising this raptor. The damn thing isn't even human.

Once he gets a decent sized hole in the back, he places the knife back in its pouch on his belt. From there he picks up needle and thread he'd requested earlier from the staff. "In fact," he continues, "I don't plan on having kids."

"You've been like that since Jessie," his mother says and the sadness in her voice is evident. She sighs. "Honey, I wish I could take away the pain you still have over it."

"I'm over Jessica, Ma. Have been for quite some time. I just have no intentions of getting married or having kids." It's been three years since he walked in on his ex-fiancee saluting his CO naked in their bedroom. He's pretty sure he's over it by now. However, everyone close to him thinks different and he can't understand why.

Just because he doesn't want kids?

"You used to," she says softly and there's a sigh. "Well, if that's your decision…"

"Sure is," Owen responds and walks to his chair. The little raptor begins to shriek as she loses sight of him.

"What are you doing to my granddaughter?"

He mutters a curse under his breath as he turns back and grabs the carrier. Placing it in front of his chair, he sits down and begins to sew around the edge he cut, making little loops as a new seam. "Mom, it's a velociraptor."

There's a hesitation before his mother starts again. "So, you're not using anything I'm sending?"

Pausing, he looks from the baby holder to the diapers, to the carrier...and finally the little raptor in the pink sundress.

"So, that's a yes," his mother responds, and the smile in her voice is clear as day. "Good, there's another package on its way."

Owen hates his life.

Chapter Text

Duck In a Hardware Store

The contraption is harder to strap on than any of his Navy gear—and some of their outfits have been extremely difficult to get in to. In any case, even with the directions, he's wondering if it'll hold the raptor. Looking in the bathroom mirror, it looks like a backward backpack of some sort—or perhaps a high kangaroo pouch. From what he can tell, though, he's apparently wearing it correctly. Shrugging, he walks to the incubator.

Blue's yawning, since she's just waking up from her nap. A claw rubs her eye and she blinks up at him. It'll be a while before she needs to feed which will make his mission easier to complete. Her little claws reach up to him, and she whines softly.

Owen lifts her—still in the pink dress from earlier—and gently lowers her into the pouch on his chest. It's awkward and slow going since he can't match up her limbs to the correct holes. He heaves a sigh when her foot slips into the tail hole for the fifth time.

Pausing, he takes a large breath and lowers her in again. This time, her tail slips through as do her talons. After making sure she's safe and sound in the pouch, he walks to the counter where he grabs her little matching hat. He places it on her head and reaches for his Ford hat.

"Ready?" he questions as he puts his hat on.

Her eyes are wide and settled on him. She coos in response.

There's a smile that slips onto his lips which he can't help. In the pink dress and hat, Owen knows no one has a better-looking raptor infant. The fact her mouth opens and her eyes squint slightly in response has him pursing his lips. He's not sure what to think and suddenly his skin is too tight.

Swallowing roughly, Owen returns to the incubator and checks the egg. While it shakes from time to time, it still refuses to hatch. He's not entirely concerned. Maybe that one needs more time.

Exiting the room, he makes his way down the hall. Entering the visitor section of the Creation Lab, he quickly gets lost in the crowd. The amount of people is a bit nerve-racking since Blue is so small and anyone could notice she's not human.

However, there is an upside.

If security discovered he was gone and went missing for him, there is no way they'd be able to find him anytime soon.

He exits the lab, walks through the visitor center, and out into his first real experience of Jurassic World. While Owen's been driven around by Hoskins before, he's never been allowed to view things on his own. It was more like viewing a snow globe instead of being in a zoo.

"Look at this," Owen says as he pauses near an overly crowded, stuffed animal stand.

Jurassic World has only fourteen species on display at the moment. The aviary is set to open in a month which will bring the total to sixteen. Owen isn't sure if the raptors will stay under the research division, or be exposed to the madhouse.

The stand, however, boasts far more creatures—nearly thirty—and he wonders how far they're going to take this money maker. There's a large part of him that knows what a foolish idea this entire island is. These creatures shouldn't have even been created. They're not real by anyone's definitions.

A soft shriek comes from the pouch and Blue's claw is pointing to a T-Rex stuffed animal. Owen steps forward and looks at the clerk.

"How much are these?"

"Sixty-five dollars, sir," the employee says, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Holy shit!" Owen exclaims and several people glance at him before issuing their children away. "Are you kidding me?!"

The remaining parents and kids scurry off.

The clerk fidgets with her manicured nails. "Sir?"

Owen shakes his head and turns from the stand. "Sorry, Blue. I'll show you the real thing. There's no way I'm going to be robbed over a tiny stuffed animal."

She coos in response as her gaze settles on him again. She begins to babble a bit and flex her talons.

"Careful," he warns, causing her to quiet, and he adjusts her feet. "You're going to tear into my clothes and this is a 'no shoes, no shirt, no service' kind of establishment. That's why you're in a dress and hat."

Blue begins to babble again.

As he walks around the stores, he gets a few curious looks. Owen doesn't blame them, he would be looking as well. Hearing the raptor babble is something odd. It's not a creepy sound, or something ungodly. It's sort of a mix between a baby and a crocodile with a bit of something else in there. Surprisingly enough, it's calming, and he finds himself stopping and looking down into those yellow eyes of hers.

It's then he admits…they aren't entirely yellow. Much of it is an amber color. Her irises, though, those are yellow, and it reminds him of the sunset in the Sahara. They're beautiful in every way imaginable. They seem to glow even brighter as she keeps babbling and gazing at him. They're almost hypnotizing in a way.

"You like to talk, don't you?" he questions, voice softening a bit.

With teeth bared, she opens her now-silent mouth and her eyes squint. She then begins babbling more.

"Sir, is that your daughter?"

Owen's eyes nearly pop out of his head as a raven-haired woman appears in front of him. He swallows roughly before shaking his head.

"Is it your niece then?" she questions and bats a lash at him.

Words are still caught in his throat. His heart is trying to figure out its normal pattern. The idea of having a daughter is outrageous to him. He always assumed that if he was forced to have a child, it'd be a boy.

But of course, that would be in a parallel universe where he could understand the raptor in his pouch, find a woman who wouldn't cheat on him, and have the Canadiens win the Stanley Cup from now until Jesus came back.

"I found her on the tram," Owen manages to say before turning away.

He hightails it out of there and doesn't stop until he reaches the marina.

Owen pauses and looks across the expanse. It's breathtaking. The water is so crisp and blue, much bluer than he's ever seen in any of his tours. InGen's probably modified it just like they've modified everything in this park.

Moving towards the railing, lhe eans his left hip against it. He takes his pointer finger and places it in front of Blue and out to the water. "Look, Blue. Look at all that water. It's gorgeous."

The little raptor doesn't follow his finger. Instead, she's already looking to where he's gazing. She coos softly as her little eyes dart back and forth taking in the water. With wide eyes, her little claws fold in front of her, and she presses the side of her head into him. She seems almost frightened.

Owen places his arms around her. He's never seen another creature so infatuated by the water. Babies aren't normally this observant three days after birth. Puppies take a while to come around. He rubs her back, and she pulls back slightly.

"Yah, ah, ryah," she babbles up to him.

He can hear the intonation in her and swears she's asking him a question. "It's called water."

"Aaahhh?" she coos.

"Yes, water. It's something that you drink."

"Ooh! Is that your daughter?" asks a brown-haired woman walking up to him.

Owen looks at her, the panic building in his veins and all he can do is shake his head no.

"Is it your niece?"

He coughs roughly. "No."

The woman's brow rises.

"I stole her from the bathroom."

And just like that, Owen books it out of there again. He doesn't stop until he's reached the Underwater Observatory. It's luck he happens to see the mosasaur. Pointing to the small creature, he talks to Blue. "That's a mosasaur. Right now, she's the size of an Orca. She's small and she'll grow just like you."

A low-pitched shriek comes from the tiny raptor. Her little talons kick out again as she watches the Mosasaur drift through the water. A high-pitched shriek comes from Blue and the water creature stops. It then turns and floats to where Blue is. It looks at the raptor and turns slightly on its side before rolling over.

Blue reaches out a claw to the creature. A low humming can be heard from the other side of the glass. Her little claw retreats, and she nuzzles into him. One eye stays on the mosasaur, and she whines softly.

"She won't hurt you. She's just as curious," he says softly. "She probably doesn't know there are other dinosaurs."

The little raptor looks up at him, then at the mosasaur.

"Say: bye, mosasaur! See you again!" Owen waves.

Her claws flex out and she coos.

With a scrunched brow, he moves toward the exit. There is no way she's actually understanding a word he's saying. First, she's three days old. Second, she's a dinosaur for crying out loud!

Well… dinosaur is subjective at InGen.

An older woman happens upon his path near the exit, and she grins. "You're a first-time father, aren't you? I heard you talking to your little girl over there."

Owen should probably be shocked that the woman could hear, but there are stranger things in the world—he's carrying one around. This time, he finds himself sighing. "No, she's not my daughter or niece. She has lovely parents that will never see her again."

With that, he exits the observatory.

Passing restaurants, his stomach begins to growl. If he's hungry, he has to imagine that Blue is getting there as well. She is past her feeding time.

While Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville is calling his name, he doesn't think bringing a minor in there would be appropriate. He passes by Hungry Caveman's Grab and Go. He's famished, but he isn't in the mood for an enormous to-go box of food. Mosasaur Café sounds delectable, but when he looks in and sees what they have to offer, he decides against it. And he doesn't even look at Deino-Diner since he's in the mood for something quick.

Owen settles on chicken nachos from a small stand with a man in a sombrero and a fake mustache taped to his upper lip. His stomach is snarling and trying to thank him as he starts into the chips. They're amazing, which he isn't sure if it's due to the fact he hasn't eaten all day or because they're delicious.

"Aaaaaahhh?" Blue coos and keeps her mouth wide open.

There's a deep breath of decision before Owen munches on a plain chip. She squawks at him.

"Hang on!" he says and holds the rest of the chip to her. "Please, don't bite off my finger. I need it."

Gently, Owen places part of it in her mouth and jerks his hand back.

She snaps down on the chip with a crunch! There are quick breaths from him as Blue eats the tiny piece. She coos and opens her mouth for more.

Again, he eats part of the chip—this time with chicken—and gives it to her. She's gentler this time as she closes her jaws.

"That's my gir—"

"Sir, hands in the air!"

Owen stiffens and looks over to see a security guard pointing a taser at him. His brow rises, and he slowly lifts his hands. He tries to ignore the fact little claws lift into the air as well.

"You're under arrest for kidnapping," the guard says. "Slowly rise from the table and place the infant on the ground."

"You're kidding, right? I just took her out of the lab," Owen responds. "It's not like we left the park."

"Sir, this child's parents are—" The guard's eyes widen when he looks at the baby.

Owen's sure the claws and snout are cause for a heart attack, especially since the man drops the taser and places a hand over his heart. "What is that thing?!"

"It's not a thing. It's a baby raptor. Her name is Blue."

The guard doesn't respond.

Shrugging, Owen goes back to eating his nachos and sharing part with Blue.

"So," he says to her. "This duck walks into a hardware store and asks, 'got any corn?' The guy says 'no, we're a hardware store.' So, next day, duck show up and quacks 'got any corn?'"

Blue coos, and her mouth opens in a smile.

"Um, sir," the security guard says. "Are you talking to…to that?"

Owen looks at him. "Again, this is a raptor, and she's a girl. I'm telling her a joke. Now, don't interrupt."

He shares another chip with Blue and continues. "So, the guy says 'no, we don't sell corn here.' Day three rolls around and the duck walks in—because he's not entirely bright—and asks if the guy has corn. The guy says 'no! And if you ask again, I'll nail your webbed feet to the floor.' Then, day four—"

"Sir?" the security guard questions. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Stop interrupting!" Owen snaps and looks back at Blue. He rolls his eyes. "The nerve of some people."

She babbles at him in a low tone.

"I know. It's annoying," he responds and takes a deep breath. "Okay, duck walks in again the next day and says, 'got any nails?' Guy says 'no, just sold my last one.' Duck looks at him and goes, 'got any corn?'"

Owen smiles and Blue huffs softly.

"You can laugh," he says. "Like this."

Owen starts laughing and Blue quiets. Her head slowly tilts to the side and her hat falls off. Picking up the hat, Owen rolls his eyes.

"Everybody's a critic."

Chapter Text

To and Fro

The swing—which was a pain in the ass to setup—rocks gently to and fro. The little raptor in it has long dozed off. Little gasps of breath which are probably baby snores come from her. Her little stomach is bulging again, and he's wondered if he's feeding her too much.

Owen sits in his chair, feet up, playing a few rounds of Call of Duty. He can hear the teens cursing in his headset as he dominates the round. Perhaps if he was playing with older people it would be a challenge. However, he doesn't have that Prestige skull with wings on his icon for nothing. The other option would be to switch to Black Ops 2, but he doesn't care much for that one. He's not-so-patiently waiting for Ghosts.

Hopefully, that will be better.

As the round ends, he casts a glance over to the little raptor. She's been sleeping for longer than her normal two hours which he chalks up to the fact she had a long day in the park. When InGen comes and talks to him about it will be another thing. He's expecting them at any moment. There's no way they would allow him to take her out without some sort of punishment.

As if hearing his thoughts, his phone starts vibrating causing him to jolt. He takes a breath and shuts off the X-Box. This will probably be a long conversation.

Checking the caller idea, he heaves a sigh. The person calling is much worse than InGen could ever be.

"Hello, sir."

"This has gone on long enough!"

With a grimace, Owen closes his eyes. His muscles tighten in his neck and shoulders. He winces when the next screech comes through.

"Your mother and I have allowed this nonsense to go on long enough! You should be out on tour, not taking care of zoo animals!"

This has been allowed just under four days now.

It's not surprising the man is screaming at him. It's nothing new. Owen's used to this type of behavior when things don't go according to plan. Any time he was in trouble as a child, this was the pattern. As a teen, if he missed curfew this was the response. When he broke off his engagement with Jessica…well, this treatment has been going on ever since.

"I expect to hear a response from you."

Owen doesn't know how to respond. He doesn't know how to make it right. He knows no matter what he says he's going to face the wrath. He's only managed twice in his life to be something in his father's eyes. The first, when he enlisted in the Navy. The second, when he proposed.

"Sir, this isn't entirely a zoo—"

"I've seen the news. I know what they say."

"The division I'm working with is military. They're supposed to be trained like dogs and seals."

"Then why is your mother sending you those absurd care packages?"

Owen shrugs. "You'd have to ask her."

"You have her believing this thing is a grandchild of some sort! Do you realize how asinine you sound? Why are you brainwashing her with this idea?"

"I'm not brainwashing her," he growls and looks to the little raptor snug in the swing. He's exhausted after the past few days. As he looks at her, though, he has mixed opinions. He isn't quite sure how he feels. "And it's not a thing. It's a raptor."

"I don't care what kind of monster—"

"She's a raptor!" he snaps. Blue jolts awake, and her yellow eyes meet his gaze. He takes a deep breath. "She's not a monster. She's a velociraptor, and she's the last leg of my tour."

"Playing with fossils is not a tour, young man. And despite your mother sending you those packages, she doesn't sleep at night because she's afraid one of them will eat you. She doesn't want to bury an empty casket."

His chest tightens. Of course, his father would be calling on his mother's behalf. If his mother wasn't alive, Owen wouldn't hear from the old man. His father wouldn't care if he was dead or not. However, he doesn't want to worry his mother. "Blue's not going to hurt me. She's the size of a baby. I can send you a picture if you'd like."

"That thing will grow into a man-eater!" his father snarls. "You give up this stupid dream and report home!"

Home…

What would ever make him want to return to that farmhouse?

The house where he was born and raised, did his homework, got good grades. Learned to slide down banisters, how to grow crops, and found out the meaning of heartache when his chocolate lab Scruffy died.

His sister lives there now with her husband and their newborn boy. They've inherited the property. His parents live in one of two smaller homes on the property. They all work together to keep the barn and animals in healthy order.

Honestly, he's surprised his brother and his wife don't live there with their two kids as well. However, they only live about ten minutes away.

So, no, he can't think of a good reason why he wants to move back there. As far as he's concerned, he's more a nomad at this point. A lone wolf. He isn't even entirely sure what home means.

"Did you hang up on me? Did you hear me? I said leave that beast and come home right now."

Owen rises from the chair and walks to the raptor, his mind whirling. He doesn't like what his father is saying, but is this the out he's been looking for? He doesn't want to raise a child. He likes living the single life. Maybe this is an answer to his prayer for freedom.

The tiny raptor chirps and raises her arms. Her little claws flex and she coos.

"Sir, I have a mission to do."

"There is no mission there."

"I have two years left and they'll let me fully retire—early. Because this is a hazardous job, and I'm putting my neck on the line. I'll get full benefits and full retirement earlier than twenty years."

"That's because they know you won't have to pay."

"Then so be it, but I'm willing to take the risk because the reward is definitely worth it. Besides," Owen adds. "You know full well that servicemen die every day in service to their country. If I die, then I'm no different than them, except, this is probably the easier way out."

"Is that O-wee?" he hears in the background. "What are you saying to my son? Give me that phone!"

There's a scuffle causing Owen to pull the phone away from his ear and wince. He's probably bleeding out the ear now. When the noise stops, he puts the phone back to his ear.

"Is your father giving you a hard time?" his mother asks.

Owen shakes his head. "No, Ma. No more than usual."

"Good. I hope he's not convincing you to abandon my granddaughter."

"It's a raptor, Mom. Not a child."

"That's irrelevant, dear. Now, did you check the package I sent you? There's something special for you and her."

Owen rises from his spot and walks to the recent care package. He never finished opening it, since he was too caught up in discovering the swing and putting that together.

He opens it to see a vintage Canadiens jersey with a white lace tie. Unwrapping it, he finds a much smaller jersey. He does his best to swallow the smile on his face and unwraps the jersey to find several children's books. There's a collection of Beatrice Potter books that he recognizes from his childhood, a book with a bat on it, another with a bird and a dog on the cover, and the last one consists of two rabbits on the cover.

He shakes his head. "Mom, I'm not reading these to her."

"We'll see," she says softly. "I have to go, O-wee. It's getting late here, and your sister needs help making dinner. I'll call you in the morning. Love you."

"Love you, too."

He hangs up and shakes his head.