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The hot Montana air beat down on him as he carefully dusted the particles of sediment and rock off of the encased treasure. It was a tan color, conical in shape. He knew immediately it was that of the terrible three horned face of Triceratops.

He grinned, not being able to contain his excitement.

"Doctor Grant!" He yelled out, "I've got something for ya!"

The older man emerged from his tent quickly. Briskly, he jogged over to the pit they'd been working for days on.

"It's Triceratops." The younger man noted excitedly.

Alan's face brightened. It had been weeks with no find. It was no raptor or theropod, no, those were more his cup of tea, but a ceratopsian would certainly do just fine.

"You've done a great job, Tim." Alan said, patting the younger man on the back.

"This specimen's got no scratches from equipment at all."

Tim beamed at his childhood hero. As his mentor walked away, off to write a new report, he looked up into the golden Montana sunset. He couldn't help but think of the circumstances that brought him here.

He remembered the first few minutes after the incident very well. Almost perfectly, he would have said.

The survivors had been lifted by helicopter to Costa Rica, where a makeshift hospital was set up. All Tim had wanted to do was stay by Dr. Grant and Lex, but they took him away. He didn't exactly remember why he was in the hospital being treated, but it didn't last long and he was fine soon after.

Then the men in suits came. They said they were from InGen. They brought contract upon contract for him to sign, and being young, he had no idea what to do. Alan would always sit near his cot every night, giving him advice and telling him dig stories. He'd always say to not sign the papers.

So Tim didn't.

A week later, they were flown back to Miami, Florida. He noticed Dr. Grant was more around Dr. Sattler than him, and he didn't know why. He decided to leave it be.

His parents came and picked him up from the airport there in Miami. They fussed over him and Lex excessively. They made extra care for his head.

The months went by. He'd gone back to school. A man came and talked to him sometimes, saying things about PTSD and stuff like that, but Tim always kept a head up and smiled. He was fine. He had no nightmares.

Well, that'd be a lie. His dreams would start out nightmares. Theropods would seek him out in his room or in his car, wherever he was. But then, something would happen. Dr. Malcolm or Dr. Sattler would come and save him. Sometimes even Dr. Grant.

One day, he was eating lunch while watching TV, and an urgent news report came on the TV. It talked about a dinosaur loose on San Diego, killing 17 people.

Tim had dropped his cereal when he saw the theropod. Fleeting images of flipped cars and the jaws of death remained in his mind. He ran upstairs to the phone and called Alan Grant's number he had memorized when he was younger.

The number was for questions about dinosaurs. Recently it had been filled up with questions about Jurassic Park, but Tim had always used it to ask the professor about dinosaur species.

He didn't even finish the number when a call came up on the phone.

"Hello?" He asked.

"Is this Tim Murphy?" A familiar voice asked.

"Yeah. Hi Dr. Grant." Tim greeted. "I was actually trying to call you."

"Where's Lex?" The older man asked. Tim brought her over to the phone.

"Listen." He said. "Get ready for the reporters to come. They want answers, and they'll seek you out."

Tim nodded, though Grant couldn't see it.

"I'll see you guys soon, I promise," Grant said, before ending with "I've got to phone the others."

Within hours, the reporters came.

They flooded the doors of their house. The Murphy's herded their children into the basement. His mother was crying.

It took hours for them to leave.

Fast forward a few years. Tim was in high school when the events of Isla Sorna came in.

He'd tried to get in contact with Dr. Grant. The older man must've been tired, though, because he didn't respond. It wasn't every day you got yourself involved with man-eating dinosaurs, but it might as well have been for Grant. This was now the second time he'd had to deal with them.

College struck hard. During his first week at Montana State, Tim had decided he'd wanted to major in paleontological sciences. But during that entire first week, their scholar hadn't shown up. He was in Asia on a trip. When he came back, it was well received.

Professor Alan Grant was teaching Tim's class.

Every day after class they'd meet up for lunch somewhere. Sometimes Tim would bring his girlfriend, who was equally interested in paleontology, to eat with them. She'd describe it as the best date ever; just being in Dr. Grant's presence.

They talked like that for four years. Every day, something new. Like what was going on in life, what dinosaurs sounded like, colors, anything. Until one day, Dr. Grant had a proposition.

He'd brought in a cast skull of a microraptor as a gift, then brought up the offer.

"Now Tim, you know how Billy's retired already, right?" Grant asked.

"Yeah," Tim replied, "wasted all his youth on that incident in Isla Sorna."

Grant chuckled despite the darkness of it, and continued. "Well he's gone."

He leaned in closer to the boy. "And I need a partner."

Years and years of dreams of heading those words all accumulated into one smile on Timothy Murphy's face.

"So what do you say, kid?" Grant had asked.

Tim didn't need to say anything.

Now, looking at the sunset, Tim's smile widened. Given the circumstances, this would be a fitting end for Professor Alan Grant. He was old now. He's been in the business for upwards to forty years.

Tim pulled out a small skull from his satchel. His ring finger's ring shone brightly, a reminder that this opportunity, this set of circumstances, brought him everything he could ever need. Money, a wife, and a career with his childhood legend.

The circumstances may have started with him looking into the jaws if death, but it ended with a sunset.

That is, until a Masrani Global jeep pulled into the dig site.

"Mr. Murphy?" He was asked. "We'd like to request something of you."