Sticking together…for survival

[Disclaimer: I claim no ownership or rights to the creation of any characters/situations/plot points by Universal and the creative team behind Jurassic Park and/or World.]

**Claire Dearing and Owen Grady deal with the aftermath of the June 12th incident at Jurassic World…together.**

From Bad to Worse

Following the horrific experience of the I-Rex incident, Claire Dearing had sworn she'd never ever wear white again. It was a crazy thought, of course. Right up there with ballplayers wearing the same pair of socks or not shaving during a winning streak, but she couldn't help it. From the moment she'd finally been able to shrug out of that filthy, blood and sweat-stained business suit she'd unfortunately chosen that morning for her Verizon Wireless meeting, she'd literally burned the skirt, jacket and tank top and vowed to never even look at another white dress. Until now of course.

"What're you thinking about?" Owen murmured in her ear as he held her close, swaying lightly to the music filling the hall.

She looked up and grinned, "My meeting with Verizon Wireless."

He pulled back and jerked his gaze down at her. "Your what?"

"Kidding," she laughed, kissing him lightly. "I'm thinking about how lucky I am," she whispered in his ear.

"Mmm, lucky that you found such a strong, handsome, raptor wrangler to keep you company for all eternity?" his eyes crinkled into a mischievous grin.

"No," she teased back, "Lucky I got such a good deal on the catering."

Owen laughed outright, throwing his head back as he dipped her then brought her up for another kiss.

"Claire!" came a genial voice behind them as a familiar face moved through the crowded dance floor amongst the sea of tuxes and evening gowns. "Congratulations my dear!"

Claire turned and beamed a warm smile at her boss. "Mr. Masrani," she said. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"I would not miss it for the world," he held his arms out in that big, philanthropic way of his and laughed. "Who would have thought, hmm? That this day would come?"

"Not me, that's for damn sure," chuckled Owen as Claire smoothed her palms down the shiny white satin of her dress, rolling her eyes at all the sparkly little adornments Karen had insisted upon adding at one of her many fittings.

"And you look beautiful, of course," he gestured at the gown, "spared no expense!"

"Thank you," she smiled. "Please, enjoy your evening, and—" it was only then that she really noticed Masrani's odd choice of fashion this evening. He was dressed to the nines of course – Armani tuxedo, shoes shined like mirrors, but he was also wearing his helicopter helmet.

"Claire," came a dull voice to her right. "Don't forget you have that meeting at 4:00." Claire turned to find Zara typing away on her smart phone.

"Oh!" said Claire, snapping out of her confusion. "Right, thank you." She nodded then turned back to Owen. "I'll be right—" when she turned back, he wasn't there. "Owen?"

"Aunt Claire!" shouted a familiar voice and Claire whirled around to see Zach barreling after her. "Zach! I wondered when you would…wait, what're you—"

Zach grabbed her arm, not letting her finish what she thought by now should be an obvious question for everyone. Why was Zach dressed in jeans and a red tee-shirt for her wedding? She would definitely have to have a word with Karen about—

"Come on, hurry! We have to get out of here!" he yelled. And yanking his aunt behind her, the teenager took off.

"Zach, what the hell is going—"

"Look!" he yelled, pointing around the corner. Claire raced after him, passing through what now seemed like dozens of rooms in the giant reception hall, and finally ducked into the kitchen galley. Rounding what seemed another endless series of stained steel corridors, they at last spilled out…into the observation deck of paddock 9.

A man stood at the huge pane of glass that allowed guests to see T-Rex feedings first hand. He smelled like sweat and it appeared he hadn't shaved in five days. "Lowery?"

"Paddock 9 Claire? Are you crazy?"

"You have to stop it Claire!" yelled Zach.

"Stop what!?" she cried, feeling suddenly as if the world were spinning.

"You know, you should put that on the brochure," said Lowery, dryly. His tone in no way matched that of her frantic nephew.

"Put it on the—wh-what?"

"That," he pointed down into the paddock as he took a bite from a Pepsisaur can she hadn't noticed before. "Eventually these things will eat somebody."

Claire felt suddenly as if her feet were heavy as clay. "Eat some—no…" she shook her head, then looked down at her dress. It was ruined, tattered, covered in mud. "No we…we got away—" she argued, though Zach had vanished.

"No…we didn't," he responded, but the voice wasn't Lowery's. She looked up slowly. It was Owen, wearing that same goddamn utility vest she wished he'd just throw away.

"Owen what're you doing back in that thing?" she nervously chuckled, "It's our—"

"You already did, you know," he responded, eyes dark and accusing.

"Did what?"

He pointed slowly at the glass. "Turned this place into a war zone."

And suddenly Claire was standing right before the glass and watching in horror as the T-Rex lifted a man into its massive jaws – no – not a man – a boy – GRAY!—

—Claire shot up in bed, drenched in sweat and gasping for air as the horrific sight shocked her awake. She shivered and hugged her arms, rubbing her clammy hands up and down her skin as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings– not that there was much to see, though there was some dim florescent lighting bleeding through the curtains drawn over the balcony doors. She shivered, suddenly realizing that she was freezing, and looked down at the man sleeping beside her. Owen must have turned the air up after she'd fallen asleep…again. She rolled her eyes with a half-grin as she grabbed the hoody she'd placed at the foot of the bed for precisely this scenario. Why did he always have to have the air on so damn high?

Sliding carefully from the bed, Claire moved lightly across the room and slid open the heavy glass door. Glancing back to make sure she didn't wake him, she slipped onto the balcony and breathed in. It had to be at least 15 degrees warmer in the muggy LA air than it was inside, and for once Claire didn't mind the humidity or the industrial buzzing of neon signs and generators humming over the cracked and cratered parking lot –their current "luxury" view.

How the mighty have fallen, she thought with a sad chuckle, remembering when not so very long ago Misrani Global had put her up in the finest Westin suites when they'd sent her out to make presentations to new investors or secure sponsorship with companies that didn't want to bother sending representatives to Costa Rica. Now here she was in the aptly named Last Stop Motel, jobless and waiting for another in a long line of legal proceedings to end.

She supposed it could be worse. The Republic could have elected to pursue criminal charges against her. Sixteen families, including Zara's, could have chosen to sue Claire personally rather than Masrani Global itself for dangerous asset development, inadequate safety protocols and reckless endangerment. Of course, none of that made any easier the barrage of reporters and paparazzi stalking her every move, the fact that they'd had to change hotels three times already since the official trial began to keep at bay the name calling and fruit throwing as she walked to and from the LA courthouse…or the sickening feeling that had returned to the pit of her stomach since leaving the island that it really was her head that belonged on the chopping block and no outcome here could put to rest that lingering guilt.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice the lamplight switch on through the window behind her and jolted as the door slid open again and a groggy Owen, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes, stepped onto the balcony holding her phone to his ear.

"Hey," she whispered, "what's—"

"Yeah man," he rasped into the speaker, clearing his throat and still shaking himself awake. "She's right here, hang on." He flipped the phone towards her and plopped it in her palm. "It's Gray."

Claire closed her eyes for a beat and she bit her lip, the last horrific image of her dream coming sharply into focus. I'm sorry, she mouthed to Owen who shook his head and waved her off, gesturing for her to take it as he settled into a green striped poolside chair that looked as if it had been stolen from another hotel and simply thrown out here on a dare.

"Gray?" she asked and listened to the timid voice reply.

Owen stretched out his legs and yawned as Claire talked to her nephew, watching as she rested her elbows on the balcony railing and tucked one foot behind her other ankle. "No no, it's ok, what's wrong?" she asked, listened, then spoke again. "Gray, it's fine what's—" she paused and turned a soft grin on Owen. "Oh he's half back asleep already, don't even worry about it." Owen cocked an eyebrow and she smirked. "What happened?...Uh huh…" she turned around just as Owen dropped one leg over the side of the beach chair and made room for her. "Oh Gray," she murmured, "that's awful." She listened more, nodding and frowning as she stepped away from the railing. "Sure it's still scary. And don't let anyone ever tell you—" Owen could hear Gray's high pitched voice talking a mile a minute through the phone as Claire settled down on the foot of the chair, leaning against his other leg for support. "Well sure I do, why do you think I'm awake right now?" There it was, Owen thought, confirming what he'd suspected about why she was out here in the first place. Nightmares…both of them. "It's okay, Gray. You know you can always call me. I—" Owen saw something flicker across face, something bitter and resentful. "I know, I saw it too." He leaned forward. "I just…try not to look at that stuff sweetie. And you shouldn't either."

"What'd he—" Owen whispered.

"Shh," she shook her head, waving him off. "I know you know that—" she sighed as Gray cut in once more. She felt Owen slip his hand beneath hers, resting on the edge of the cheap plastic. "I know Zach knows it too, and you know what?" she adopted an overly chipper voice, one she knew wouldn't fool Owen but hoped would ease her nephew's piece of mind, "That's all I need to get through it, ok? Who cares what anyone else thinks, right?...I'm sure your brother would agree with that, huh?" Owen gave her hand a squeeze and she squeezed back. "Ok. You go back to sleep – don't dream, ok? Just rest…" she paused and her voice caught in her throat. "You too, Gray. G'night." She clicked off.

"What was that about?" Owen asked, his voice still a low morning rumble.

"Nightmares," she shrugged. "He…didn't want to wake up Zach again."

Owen shook his head as he laced his fingers through her own and kissed the back of her hand. "I got that part. What 'stuff' shouldn't he look at?"

Claire sighed. "He…saw that picture on Twitter."

"The one with—"

"My face photo-shopped on the head of a T-Rex holding a "Safety First" sign? Yeah, that one."

He shook his head and leaned back against the chair, "Assholes."

Claire tucked her phone into the pocket of her hoody which was now getting a little too warm. "Gotta give 'em points for creativity," she rolled up her sleeves and twisted to face him, resting her hand and chin to his knee.

"I don't hafta give 'em squat," he scoffed.

She sighed as she leaned into him. "Yeah well…I can't really blame 'em."

"Oh come on, Claire," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not even the one on trial here. Zara's own mother said she didn't blame you."

Claire squeezed her eyes shut and tried to blot out the recent memory; it was bad enough that she'd had to hear about Zara's horrific death recounted by her own nephews, but to be absolved of it so forgivingly by her former assistant's kin had been a bit too much to handle yesterday.

Clarissa Young had been one of the first people to join the class action suit against JW and Masrani Global after finding what compensation both companies had offered in the wake of the initial incident not only insufficient, but insulting. During the court's lunch recess, the older woman made a point of seeking out her daughter's former employer. "You gave Zara a second chance with that place," she'd said through brave, bleary eyes. "She never thought she'd work again after that whole email…fiasco." Zara and Claire had attended and in fact co-hosted a number of leadership seminars along the west coast before being hired by Sony Digital and Masrani Global respectively. Having been let go in the wake of damaging and disparaging emails that had been uncovered from hers and several associate producer inboxes during the infamous hacking incident, Zara had called Claire's office almost immediately for help, and Claire had offered her a job that day. "She would have done anything for you, dear," Clarissa had insisted. Including, thought Claire bitterly, babysitting my nephews because I was too busy to watch them myself?

Having watched the exchange from afar, Owen had a feeling it had had the exact opposite effect on Claire than he was sure was intended. "But I am the only high-profile name and face left with Masrani gone," she argued, ignoring his comment about Zara altogether. "So regardless who wins the suit, I get the brunt of the blame no matter what."

He sighed and straightened up which jolted her upright as well. "What's your point?" he tried patiently, now straddling the chair, both feet plopped over either side.

"I…just…" she struggled and finally pushed herself off the chair and returned to her railing. Honestly, she didn't know what her point was. "I just…think it'd be easier to just…own up to it."

Owen shook his head, wiping his palms past his temples. Christ, it was hot out here. "And then what? Take all the responsibility and let JW get away with paying minimal damages?"

"No—"

"Let Masrani's goons make you feel even worse than you already do?" he stood up and stepped over the chair to join her at the railing.

"Not sure that's possible," she mumbled.

"Claire," he turned her to face him. "We went through this six months ago, remember? They came. They questioned. They fired you. I quit. We left, right? And when this whole…" he waved his hand absently as a passing semi honked along the highway, "lawsuit thing is over, we're meeting up with Barry 'down under' and we're gonna treat those animals the way they deserve…together. Why are you starting this all up again?"

"I'm not starting anything," she rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you are," he held her at arm's length with both hands now. "You're all set to throw yourself to the wolves again. Why?"

"Because I sit in that courtroom every day and I have to relive it, Owen!" she yanked herself away from him and took a step back. "I've been watching that monitor flashing pictures of all those faces – 25 people dead, over and over again on repeat. Mr. Otto and Enrique, Hamada, Zara – even Hoskins. And all I keep thinking is how your face could just as easily be up there, or Gray's or Zach's. Every decision I made that day led us from bad to worse—"

"That's not true—"

"And don't you dare bring up the goddamn T-Rex thing again," she warned him as she headed back inside, suddenly craving the AC. He followed her.

"Wasn't gonna," he countered as he pulled the door shut. "And for the record, this isn't some picnic for me either—"

Her shoulders slumped as she halted in the doorway to the bathroom. "I know," she said quietly.

"You have any idea what it's like to be me right now?" he stalked over to her and pulled her back into the main room. "What it's like to be the guy whose deposition is actually the strongest testimony the defense has? The strongest testimony against you?"

Claire let out a tired sigh. "I…I know," she said again, not wanting to look up. Truth be told, she was glad Owen had done as she'd asked. His testimony would at least give a clear picture of the events leading up to the I-Rex escape. After days of Masrani reps and JW executives blabbering on about their oh so infallible security measures, when and how their policies and handbooks were crafted and what did and did not constitute grounds for evacuation, she was kind of relieved that they'd be hearing about the actual day in question tomorrow. She couldn't tell Owen that, of course.

"Look," his voice softened as he tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. "I know this whole…martyr routine of yours somehow makes it easier for you to get through it." He felt her tense at the word martyr, knowing he was striking a nerve, but there was no other way to put it. "But if you really want to 'own up to it' then you should own up to all of it."

Her eyes narrowed, "What are you talking about?"

"All of it, Claire," he repeated and then finally let his hands drop. "The things you did wrong…and the things you did right."

She sighed and dipped her head, tempted to point out that there really wasn't a whole lot she did do right...but in the end, she was exhausted. And it didn't seem right to punish him for being far more than she deserved. "I'm sorry," she whispered. With a deep breath, she rested her head against his chest and his arms settled instantly around her waist.

She felt him chuckle. "Yeah, well you should be. Need my beauty sleep and all."

She smiled and lifted her gaze, doing her best to ignore the guilt still stewing inside her. "Of course you do, what was I thinking?"

He bent his head and kissed her, lightly at first, then deep and simmering as he felt her relax in his arms. After a long while, he pulled back and rested his chin on her head. "So you gonna tell me?"

Her forehead creased. "Tell you?"

He pulled back and held her gaze. "Bout your dream?"

Claire's eyes widened as a blinding white wedding dress flashed in her mind. "Not a chance."

…

After the usual routine of calling the room to order, the imposing Judge Franklin busied himself with the first of what would be many drinks from his pitcher of water as Rice drew his papers together, called Owen to the stand, and had him sworn in.

"Mr. Grady," began Jensen Rice, lead attorney for Masrani Global, whose job today would be to make Claire Dearing, Jurassic World's former Operations Manager and Asset Development Director look as incompetent and culpable for the events of the I-Rex attack as possible, thus proving that the majority of the incident could be attributed to human error rather than a lack of sufficient safety measures and protocols in place. His unwitting accomplice in this affair would be Owen Grady, whose testimony had indeed proven very informative when he'd first taken statements back in June and his more formal deposition this past December. "Can you please state for the courts your exact title and role with respect to Masrani Global and Jurassic World in early June 2015?"

Owen shifted uncomfortably in the one suit he owned and tried hard to focus on the EXIT sign in the back of the courtroom. "I was part of a research team headed by InGen."

"InGen?"

"The technology and security division for Masrani Global."

"And what is it that your team researched?"

"We were tasked with determining the intelligence level of a certain…species of dinosaur."

"What species?"

"Velociraptor," he said, drawing the first low murmur of the day in the courtroom.

"So you were not an actual employee of the park, is that correct?"

"I was not."

"Not even part of Asset Containment?"

"No. But I did work closely with—"

"That answer will suffice, Mr. Grady thank you. When were you made aware that JW Incorporated had commissioned a new, genetically modified breed of dinosaur?"

Owen looked down. "That morning."

"The morning of the incident on June 15th?"

"Yes."

Rice continued. "What were you told at the time about this new breed's genetic makeup?"

"I was told its base genome was T-Rex. The rest was classified."

"And who told you it was classified?"

Owen sucked in a breath – here we go. "Ms. Dearing," he mumbled.

"Thank you. Now, why did Ms. Claire Dearing feel the need to share this information with you?"

"Mr. Masrani had her bring me in as a consultant to inspect the Indominus paddock."

"The Indominus Rex, or I-Rex, you mean."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"And are you a structural engineer Mr. Grady?"

"…No."

"Are you in any way professionally certified to judge the strength of steel, cinderblock or industrial glass?"

"No." Owen said again and foolishly hazarded a glance to the pen. The media was already stirring, reporters whispering to each other, murmuring their guesses as to what would be revealed next. He glanced back a few rows and found Claire – whose head was down.

"Mr. Grady, what is your expertise exactly? What prompted Ms. Dearing to seek your counsel?"

"Mr. Masrani asked me to consult," he insisted, determined to make this as hard on Rice as he could. "Ms. Dearing was just following orders." At that, Claire's gaze lifted from her lap, alarmed. Just tell the truth, he heard her voice echo in his head. He intended to. The whole truth.

"Yes, thank you," Rice said tightly and Owen felt the tiniest stab of satisfaction. "What of your expertise, Mr. Grady, prompted Mr. Masrani to call upon your services?"

"Objection your honor," called head lawyer Bethany Ramis for the plaintiffs. "Speculation. Mr. Grady can't possibly know what the late Mr. Masrani felt about his input or how it would be useful."

"I'll rephrase," said Rice without skipping a beat. "What in your background, to your knowledge, led to your…recruitment by InGen?"

Owen took a deep breath. "I'm a former Navy SEAL," he started, "served on two teams during my tenure in underwater and jungle environments. Before that I was working on an ethnology degree at Nova University studying predatory behaviors in hierarchy pack hunters."

"Such as?"

Another deep breath, "Specifically the gray wolf, orcas—"

"As in, killer whales?"

"Yes. And certain species of hawk and crocodile."

"All of which made you perfectly qualified for your work with the velociraptor, a pack hunter," Rice finished; he'd certainly done his homework.

"I'm not sure anyone is perfectly qualified to work with live dinosaurs, Mr. Rice."

There was a rumble of amusement in the courtroom, but Rice was not thrown. "Is the Indominus Rex a pack hunter, Mr. Grady?"

"I have no idea."

"And why not?"

"They didn't breed a pack."

"But was it not revealed later on that the I-Rex is in fact a hybrid of a T-Rex, as you say, and a velociraptor?"

"Yes, but I didn't know that at the time. I knew only that it was a hybrid."

"This didn't concern you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's my understanding that all of JW's dinosaurs were genetic hybrids of some dino species mixed with the DNA of other animals to fill in the holes in the gene sequencing process. They could've crossed an Apatosaurus with a parrot for all I knew."

The general assembly laughed so loudly here that Judge Franklin rapped his gavel twice. Owen looked to Claire again – whose face had finally cracked into a small grin. He relaxed.

Rice, for the first time annoyed though hardly deterred, cleared his throat and pressed on. "Let's return to the morning in question, Mr. Grady. What did you observe to Ms. Dearing during your…consultation at the I-Rex paddock?"

"I…mentioned that animals raised in isolation weren't always the most functional."

"In fact, you made specific reference to its feeding crane, did you not?"

"Yes."

"What did you conclude?"

"That the only relationship she'd ever had—"

"She?" Rice clipped him off.

Owen clenched his teeth. "The Indominus," he clarified. "The only thing she'd ever interacted with was the crane."

"And, did this fact trouble you?"

"Yes, but only because—"

"Did you say so to Ms. Dearing?"

Owen felt uneasy again. "Yes."

"Mr. Grady," Rice leaned in against the witness stand. "Tell us what happened when Ms. Dearing tried to attract the I-Rex's attention."

"We…couldn't see it. In the paddock."

"Couldn't find it, you mean?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

"Ms. Dearing told the operator on duty—"

"The deceased Mr. Robert Otto?"

"…Yes," he glared at Rice who was as stoic here as he'd been back in Costa Rica. Just get through this, he told himself. Get it over with. "She had him run an IF scan."

"Which is?"

"Infrared. The way we detect the location of the animals in the park. By searching for thermal radiation, we can get a fix on their location, size and number."

"And what were the results of that scan?"

"Negative."

"Meaning there was no heat signature."

"Right, which meant the dinosaur must have gotten out," Owen hastened to add.

Rice countered. "You mean it appeared to have gotten out."

"…Yes."

"In actuality, Mr. Grady, wasn't it later discovered that the I-Rex could in fact alter its infrared output as a result of tree frog DNA used in its gene sequencing?"

"Yes. But we had never seen that happen before—"

"So the I-Rex was in fact, secured in its paddock?"

"…Yes."

"Mr. Grady," Rice took a deep breath and evidenced the first real bit of theatrics Owen had seen in the whole trial so far. Patiently he took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, polished his glasses and replaced them on his nose. What a douche. "What did Ms. Dearing ask you to do next?"

Owen cringed, remembering his deposition, knowing what was coming. "She asked me to…inspect the paddock."

"Having run one failed infrared scan, she asked you to inspect the paddock."

"Having run the scan and after I'd noticed scratch marks on the walls, yes."

The extra information didn't seem to bother Rice. "Mr. Grady, does Jurassic World have any other means of tracking the location of its animals?"

"Yes," he said.

"Could you…elaborate?"

Owen took a deep breath and determinedly avoided Claire. "There are transmitters implanted along each animal's spine soon after infancy that have unique signatures which can pinpoint their exact location."

"Even without infrared output?"

"Yes."

"Did Ms. Dearing run a scan for this signal before asking you to inspect the paddock?"

"…It was…my understanding that she was headed to the control room to do just that—"

"But she didn't tell you to wait until that scan was completed?"

"…No."

"Couldn't she, in fact, have made that call right from the paddock control room?"

"She thought the Indominus had already escaped. We all did. We were scrambling to make sure—"

"Your honor?" Rice turned abruptly on Judge Franklin and Owen jerked back in his seat.

The judge turned his sour gaze on Owen and sighed. "Mr. Grady I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from making editorial comments in your testimony. Please just answer the question."

Owen's shoulders sagged as he glanced once more at Claire. Her eyes were imploring him not to drag it out. Don't make it difficult, she'd pled with him this morning. And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he had to do something. "Yes," he sighed anyway, giving in. "She could've made the call from control room."

"But she didn't."

Finally, Bethany intervened. "Objection your Honor. Asked and answered."

"Withdrawn. Mr. Grady," Rice began again, "What happened when you went into the paddock?"

"Otto and I were joined by an ACU patrolman—"

"The deceased Enrique Juarez?"

"That's right. We were looking specifically at the scratch marks scaling up the wall."

"And what was your theory at the time?"

"That the I-Rex had found a way to climb out of the pen."

Then Rice actually – audibly – scoffed, "Without anybody noticing a 50 foot carnivore hopping a fence."

"Your honor!" cried Bethany.

"Withdrawn. Did you think this a likely theory, Mr. Grady?"

"…No."

"And yet you still felt safe going into the paddock."

"I didn't think it likely that it climbed out of the paddock, no. But there was no heat signature. We'd never seen that before. The assumption everyone made, was that the animal was just…somehow…gone."

"That wasn't the case though, was it?"

He dropped his head. "No," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"I said no," he glared up again.

"What happened next?"

Owen shifted in his seat and sped through the rest like he was ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid. "Soon after we reached the wall, we heard over the radio that they'd run the transmitter scan and the I-Rex was in fact still in the pen. Enrique and I started running for the internal door the feeders used to use, but Otto opened the paddock gate instead."

"Why did he do that?"

"Objection?"

"Can you think of any reason why he would do that?"

"Because it was closer to him. And the Indominus was…blocking the way we came," he closed his eyes, the image of Otto sitting in front of that pick-up just before he'd been eaten burned into Owen's mind. Claire wasn't the only one with recurring nightmares. "Otto panicked."

Finally Rice pushed off of the witness stand and returned to his table. "Mr. Grady," he called as he flipped through his notes. "What happened after that?"

Owen stole another glance out into the courtroom as pens scratched rapidly against tiny steno pads. "Enrique was grabbed first—"

"Grabbed?"

"By the Indominus. He was…crushed to death."

"And then?"

"Otto and I made it out through the paddock doors. They were in the act of being closed as I slipped through, but not in time to seal her in. The Indominus had just enough room to fit her claw through and rip it open."

"And soon after that, Mr. Otto was killed and the I-Rex began her rampage through the grounds," Rice finished for him, clearly wanting to get right to his point.

"That's right."

Finally Rice turned back and Owen drew in a breath. Here it was – the question that had most damned Claire in his deposition. He locked eyes with her once more and hated the expression he found there – the martyr look, once again – defeated acceptance. He turned back to face Rice. "Mr. Grady, in light of this series of events, isn't it safe to say that you, Mr. Juarez, and Mr. Otto would not have gone in that paddock if Ms. Dearing had simply followed protocol and ordered the transmitter search first?"

Owen opened his mouth to reply when Bethany suddenly jumped up in her chair.

"Objection, your honor," she said, and this one shocked even her second chair. "Speculation."

Even Rice scoffed, "Excuse me?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to elaborate on that one for me, Ms. Ramis," said the judge, who for the first time in the entire trial looked somewhat intrigued.

"The defense," she gestured to Rice, "is asking the witness to speculate on what would or would not have happened if the conditions of the day were changed. Is Mr. Grady an expert in theoretical physics? How is he supposed to know what would have transpired that day or any day for that matter, with respect to the Indominus in a different set of circumstances?" She finished her objection and looked squarely at Owen. He started. Where was she going with this? As a witness for the defense, Bethany hadn't at all been involved in his prep, and yet somehow she seemed to be throwing him a bone. His mind started racing.

"Your honor," Rice stared at his opponent, incredulous, "the entire reason for the witness's presence at these events was in fact to speculate. Mr. Grady himself has already admitted he's not an expert in industrial steel or glass—" Owen twitched— "He was called upon for the express purpose of predicting the likelihood of the animal's escape based on his experience in studying predatory behavior. I think it's safe to ask him whether or not, given a different set of variables, this animal would have still escaped."

Franklin thought for a moment then shrugged toward Bethany. "He makes a fair argument, Ms. Ramis. Overruled."

Rice nodded and looked once more at his witness. "Mr. Grady?"

Owen was staring at Bethany, who oddly enough didn't seem surprised by Franklin's ruling. She simply watched…and waited.

"Mr. Grady?" Rice asked again, impatiently.

"Could you…" Owen thought a moment, staring between Claire and Bethany. "Could you repeat the question?" he said at last.

The courtroom responded with another chorus of murmurs as the defense lawyer shook his head at the ceiling. In a rushed, more impatient tone, Rice replied. "Isn't it safe to assume that the I-Rex wouldn't have escaped had Ms. Dearing followed Jurassic World's established protocol?"

Owen ran Rice's words very carefully in his mind. "No," he said slowly; Bethany nodded. "It's not."

Rice whirled around. "What?"

"No."

"Do you…" he checked his notes again, as if they were some script Owen was supposed to be following – which wasn't, of course, that far from the truth. After all, witnesses who contradict their depositions automatically put themselves at risk for perjury. Claire, knowing this, shot him a pleading look, but Owen didn't seem worried. "Do you want to rethink your answer Mr. Grady?" Rice finally asked.

"Objection? Asked and answered?"

"Sustained."

"Mr. Grady," Rice regrouped so fast, one might have missed entirely his lapse in temper. "May I remind you that you answered in the affirmative during your deposition?" He started to withdraw Owen's original statement as if preparing to submit it for further scrutiny when Owen shot back.

"No I didn't," he said, and this time he looked right at Claire.

What are you doing!? she mouthed, glancing around her as the hum of spectators grew louder and louder.

He shook his head and smiled, a signal not lost on Rice for he turned around and glared at Claire too. Claire abruptly looked away. "Mr. Grady—" he started.

"You asked me if my going into the paddock was by Ms. Dearing's orders. You never asked whether I thought the I-Rex would or wouldn't escape otherwise."

Rice's mouth hung open for a split second then he regained his cool. "It seems, your Honor, that Mr. Grady is engaging in a fun little game of semantics—"

Owen leaned forward and spoke quickly. "In less than 14 hours that animal disguised its own heat signature, obliterated a gyrosphere, and smashed through the outer wall of the aviary like it was tinfoil – both of which were made of the same aluminum oxynitride composite that lined one fourth of the I-Rex's paddock – the wall that guests were supposed to be able to look through, by the way. The issue isn't whether Ms. Dearing's actions led to its escape. It was always just a question of when."

For the first time, Rice looked stumped, and he stared slack-jawed as Owen finished his speech, too dumfounded to cut in or ask the judge to cut him off. The press, meanwhile, was having a field day, the trial suddenly approaching as close to a Hollywood style courtroom drama as they'd ever seen in real life. Out came the cell phones and iPads, voices rising in volume, and Judge Franklin once again, called his courtroom to order.

"Your Honor," Rice spluttered. "Mr. Grady is now…speculating beyond the…the scope of what he can…accurately—"

"Judge Franklin," Bethany sprang from her chair, trying to keep from grinning. "Either Mr. Grady should be allowed to speculateor he shouldn't. Could Mr. Rice please make up his mind?"

Franklin looked almost amused. "You opened the door, counselor," he said to Rice. "Either move on or cut him loose."

Rice glared from Bethany to the judge and then back at Owen. For a split second, he saw his witness glancing elsewhere and Rice once more followed the gaze to Claire Dearing. Desperate and slightly unhinged, he whirled back around. "Mr. Grady, what is the nature of your relationship with Ms. Dearing?"

Owen almost guffawed, "Excuse me?"

"Objection! Relevance!" Bethany nearly pounced on her desk.

"The witness has strayed significantly from his original deposition, your Honor. I believe the jury has a right to hear possible theories behind the motivation of so…material a change."

Franklin glanced at Owen peripherally, then nodded. "Overruled."

"Your relationship? Mr. Grady?"

Owen glanced at Claire, who now looked mortified. "We're…involved."

"Romantically?"

Owen rolled his eyes, "Sure."

"In fact," he retreated to his table and snatched a sheet of paper that looked to be a receipt of sorts from his second chair. "The two of you are currently sharing a hotel room just off the Harbor Freeway, isn't that true?"

"Your Honor!"

"Get to the point, Counselor."

"Is it possible, Mr. Grady, that this new theory of yours is prompted not by expertise but by your desire to save your girlfriend's—"

"Your Honor, this is absurd!"

"Order!" Franklin banged as the courtroom erupted in downright chaos.

From the witness stand, Owen could see Claire trying to stand up and push passed the people in her row. He thought fast. "It galls you doesn't it?" he yelled to the defense attorney as a hush swept through the room, for they suddenly didn't want to miss a word of Owen Grady's testimony. Claire was left standing, almost trembling in the aisle.

"What?" said Rice, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

"Your lack of control," he said.

"Your honor," he seethed, "please instruct the witness to answer—"

"You're face-to-face with an animal right now whose behavior you thought you could predict," Owen stared the man down as he held his arms out in a wide shrug. "Well, it turns out you can't, buddy…And now you're scrambling. Tryin' to fix it. Tryin' to make sure it doesn't mess up your case." He paused and looked to Claire who remained frozen in the aisle. "Only every question you ask now, every decision you make…seems like you're going from bad to worse." Claire's eyes started to water but she didn't dare look away. Slowly, Owen shifted back to Rice, his eyes black and narrowed to slits. "Now whose fault is that, Counselor? Yours…or the animal's?"

The courtroom had fallen to pin-dropping silence, and it seemed ages before either man made another move. Finally, Jensen Rice backed away from the witness stand and reclaimed his chair. "No more questions, your Honor."

…

Thanks for all the kind reviews and the numerous favs and alerts. Your feedback is always appreciated. Apologies to all the lawyers or litigators-to-be out there for inevitable inaccuracies or liberties taken in the courtroom scene. My understanding of trial law is pretty much limited to what I see on Law & Order and The Goodwife :)