Disclaimer: I do not own the Jurassic Park franchise or any of it's characters; I only own the characters and plots of my own mind

The Paleontologist's Daughter

The minute that Dr. Alan Grant heard that Gwyn had accepted a job at Jurassic World was the moment he grabbed his keys, got into his car, and drove the three hours it took to get to her house in mid-day traffic. He wasn't quite sure what had possessed his daughter to even remotely entertain the idea of a job at that damnable park, but he was sure as hell going to find out. As he sat in the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the sun creeping towards the horizon, Alan flexed his fingers around the steering wheel. His molars were grinding together, his jaw was stiff, and his nostrils flared every now and again. Anyone who had known him knew that children weren't exactly his strong point, even if he had discovered his soft spot for them. Gwyn hadn't exactly been planned, but he loved her none-the-less, even if he had once struggled to figure out how to express it. Her love for dinosaurs had given them a bonding point. She'd taken after her father––and her mother, who had been a paleontologist––and found a love for the extinct creatures as she spent many a day on dig sites after––and sometimes even instead of––school and on all free days whenever Alan was working at one.

Alan wasn't a conventional father, but Gwyn hadn't been a conventional daughter. He hadn't known how to raise a child and there hadn't been anyone there to help him; this sometimes strained their relationship that, up till the park incident, had been on shaky ground. More often than not when he had to work on site, he left her in the capable arms of someone who was better with children than he was. But when Gwyn was of elementary school age, she had already begun to content herself with doing school work on-site. Alan's blunt teaching style in regards to the behaviors of dinosaurs never bothered her, never scared her. That was just her dad. It was also around that age that she learned not to disturb him while he worked––that typically warranted a strong talking to or a hearty brush-off. Gwyn had always known he was a special type of father, and that was why she loved him. Sometimes she acted more like an assistant on the digs, hauling around supplies and toting information back and forth, and he more of a mentor, teaching her about the creatures they were digging up with vivid visuals and in depth evidence. Albeit it had been hard for Gwyn to get around the fact his hugs were often only one-armed, he wasn't there to tuck her into bed most nights, and that he sometimes just simply didn't know what to do. But he never hesitated to say that he loved her. In fact, it was probably the easiest sentence he'd ever been able to say to her. Yes, she had been noisy and she had been messy, but at the end of the day she always had been––and always would be––his bright-eyed daughter; and no one could deny the soft-spot he had for her.

By the time Alan arrived at Gwyn's small, but roomy, home, it was about seven and the sun was preparing to kiss the horizon with its golden beams. He slammed his car door, pocketed his keys and strode up to the door, rapping his knuckles against it in an indistinct pattern. He waited on the doorstep for a long moment, during which anyone else might have figured she wasn't home. But her car was in the driveway and he could hear some of her favorite music playing inside. She also had a tendency to get side-tracked by the smaller things on her way to the final goal. Finally, the door opened, and there Gwyn stood. Her unruly sandy, dark blond hair––that matched the tone her father's had once been––was forced into a messy bun, strands of it framing her face, which was composed in a look of surprise, a look that glimmered in the blues of her irises.

"Gwyn," he said in a firm, flat tone.

"Dad! I, uh, didn't know that you were going to stop by––oh, of course, please, come in," she insisted jokingly as he pushed past her and through the door. Alan shoved his hands into his pockets as he looked around the living room. Sure enough, on her couch were two military green, canvas bags, wrinkled and crumpled from the time spent stored in her hallway closet. Her passport sat on the arm of the couch, and her numerous IDs sat in a fanned out pile beside that. Her laptop was open to show two windows, one of which was the Jurassic World page, and the other was an email with the park's logo imprinted on the top. Alan's heart rate picked up as he considered just what this all meant, what all the pieces created when put together like some heart-wrenching puzzle. He inhaled deeply as Gwyn shut the front door, the two turning simultaneously to face each other. She was smiling, and there was laughter in her voice as she spoke, a tone that would be short lived. "Not like I'm never glad to see you, but you could've given me some warning."

"Gwyn Fiona Grant, why is it that I've heard through different channels––both professional and unprofessional––and not from you, that you've taken a job at Jurassic World?" Alan asked immediately, forgoing the pleasantries. Sure enough, Gwyn's smile fell and she shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at the bottom of her nose with the back of her hand before crossing her arms over her chest. His tone had been dangerously flat. Whenever he used that tone, she knew he was upset; that was something she'd known since she was very young.

"Because what you heard through numerous different channels––both professional and unprofessional––about me taking a job at Jurassic World is true," she confirmed quickly, uncomfortably. Alan sighed and placed one hand on his hip as the other rose to massage his temples with his pointer finger and thumb. The room became thick with a tension so heavy it felt like it could crush them if they stayed quiet too long.

Just about twenty years ago, Alan had been called in to inspect and endorse the original Jurassic Park. Alan made the executive decision to take Gwyn, eleven at the time, with him; he typically left Gwyn at home when went on business trips, but he decided differently that time around. The two hadn't exactly been on a trip together for a very long time, and he had been aware that was mostly his fault, so he took her along with him, hoping that, perhaps, it would prove as a chance for them to bond––and it did. Bond through the terror and trauma that he wished, in hindsight, he could have saved her from. They'd been chased by a T-Rex, attacked by Velociraptors, and gained a sense of paranoia that took years to down-play and get rid of. For years after the incident, Alan had listened as she woke up screaming in the middle of the night, nightmares ravaging her sleep. He would hold her as she cried, or shook, assuring her that it was all over and that it would never happen again. When they heard that someone had rebuilt and was reopening the park, both Grants had sent letters begging, pleading they reconsider; they were brushed off and assured that security measures would be boosted this time around and that nothing like what happened at the original park would occur again. But the fact that Gwyn was considering going back was a concept beyond Alan's comprehension.

"Why?" he asked quietly, finally breaking through the silence. He spread his arms in disbelief, shaking his head before scoffing and reiterating his question. "Why? You… you have a fantastic job down at the dig site, and you're paid well. You've never complained… never expressed wanting to leave… Why would you even remotely consider the job offer? How did it even crop up?"

"I didn't apply for it, if that's what you're thinking." With a sigh, Gwyn moved past her father and moved towards her computer. Picking it up and turning to face the greying paleontologist on the other side of the couch, she scrolled through her last month of emails and clicked into one that had started this whole ordeal. Clearing her throat, she began to read it out loud.

"Dear Dr. Grant, my name is Simon Masrani, the CEO of the Masrani Corporation, and I am writing in the interest of offering you a job at my park, Jurassic World. I have heard tale of your commendable and fantastic work at numerous dig sites and of your extensive work in animal behaviorism; I am greatly intrigued on how you might be able to combine your two lines of work to benefit the creatures on Isla Nublar. We also consider ourselves fans and followers of your father's work here at the park and would be honored to have a member of the Grant family among our staff. A brief overview of your offered position is as follows: you shall be considered a consulting paleontologist, and would also be brought around the park to the various paddocks to ensure that our dinosaurs are being treated with the utmost respect and that they are as happy as they can possibly be. Should you consider this position, I shall cover it in more detail. I shall also like to inform you I am very much aware of your involvement in the events that took place at the original park, and are aware that you are surely very apprehensive about considering or accepting this offer. Hence, I am taking this moment to inform––and assure––you that our safety measures have been boosted and we don't anticipate an event such as the one you encountered to ever happen again. It is with every wish in the world I hope you consider this position. All the best to you, and your father. Signed, Simon Masrani."

Gwyn shut the laptop and dropped it onto her couch, watching as Alan placed both hands on his hips with a heavy sigh passing between his lips. His gaze had fallen to his shoes, heart sinking as he realized she was actually taking the job. For what reason, he was still confused about, but he supposed some of it's charm might have been the flattering jargon Masrani had used in the email. Then there was the fact that the lure of live dinosaurs, no matter how dangerous, was still as intoxicating as it had been the first time. Masrani had also mentioned that he'd heard of her successful work at the work sites she'd been on; such was the curse, he supposed, of having an intelligent daughter. He had missed that she'd rounded the couch again, but was well aware of said fact when he felt her take both his hands. He curled his fingers around hers and raised his head to meet her gaze. Gwyn was looking at him with a furrow between her brows. Alan had always been happy she had taken after her mother's more delicate features, and not the ruggedness of his own; though he had found himself proud that she'd taken the coloring of his hair and eyes, and the undying devotion for the extinct creatures they studied. Her mother had always had a love for it, but no one could match Alan's passion for the subject.

"Why would you go back?"

The question he posed was one that she'd posed to herself when she had first gotten the offer. What reason would she have for returning to the place of her childhood traumas? The place she had literally sworn off going to ever again for the rest of her life? The answer had come in the form of a lengthy inner-monologue she'd had while at a dig site a couple days after shooting emails back and forth with Masrani about two weeks ago. She was a paleontologist. Her love for dinosaurs wasn't something that could just go extinct, even if she'd once been inches away from the jaws of a T-Rex; if anything, Jurassic Park had only cemented a deeper interest in the creatures. If she accepted the job, Gwyn could face the animals that had once tromped through her dreams, the creatures she had dedicated her life to studying. If she accepted the job… there was a better chance that she could warn them if something was about to go wrong since she'd seen it all go south before.

"I love my job, dad, but… I feel like I need to do this. You said it yourself when you had been flying over Isla Sorna that you were in awe again, despite everything that happened before. I think that I've gotten over the fear that I harbored as a child, and I'm ready for that second dose of amazement. And… I can't be scared anymore," she explained. Alan squeezed her fingers and shook her hands, raising them as a pleading look crossed his face. "Look, I don't leave for another week. Why don't we both take some days off work and… and we can talk through everything. Because… I am scared." She laughed unevenly, working to keep her smile from forming into a frown. "After everything we went through that day, and all of the stress I was subjected to when that couple tricked you into going to Isla Sorna, how could I not be? Every moment I spend on that island, I'm going to be looking over my shoulder. And if I'm scared… I know you will be, too."

Alan placed a hand on her cheek, looking at her fondly as he nodded. There wasn't much else he could do or say; she wasn't a kid anymore. She was a full fledged adult with her own home, her own job, and her own life. He just had to be there to support her and love her and protect her when she needed it… and lord knew she was going to need it.

"I love you, honey." She smiled and leaned her cheek into his hand.

"I love you, too, dad." Alan drew his daughter into a hug, shutting his eyes as he clasped her head to his shoulder. She was so precious to him. So very precious. It had been hard for him to raise her, he would admit it; raising a daughter on his own had been a journey in itself, especially consdering the lifestyle they lived, but he couldn't have been more proud of her. As she drew herself out of the hug, she smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Why don't you stay the night? It would take you a couple hours to get back home, the guest room is all ready, and I made too much lasagna for dinner anyway," she suggested with a laugh. Alan pretended to give it a strong amount of thought, turning to follow her into the kitchen.

"Is it the same lasagna recipe that you used on my birthday?" he inquired. Gwyn laughed and nodded, grabbing hold of two pot holders so she could tug the pan out of the oven. "Well, I suppose I could stay, if only for that." As Gwyn straightened up and gave him a look that said 'oh, yes, you're so funny,' he smiled at her broadly and moved towards the cabinet that housed the plates. They began the kitchen dance that they always did whenever they cooked dinner together. While one of them set the table and folded the napkins, the other finished what work needed to be done with the food. This was something that they'd been doing since Gwyn was about nine, the age where Alan had started to trust her with cutlery and porcelain plates.

Later in the evening, after they chatted over dinner, discussed the parameters of her new job, and squabbled about it here and there, they watched one of their all-time favorite movies, and Gwyn fell asleep tucked under her father's arm. The tv hummed the dialogue of some documentary on the other side of the room, and Alan was sweeping his fingers through the long locks of Gwyn's hair. Brushing some of it off her neck, it revealed a scar that had been hiding beneath it. It was long and pink, staring just above her left collarbone and stopping at the top of her right breast. It had been left there by the razor sharp claw of a velociraptor, which had sliced through her flesh, leaving behind a wound that took dozens of stitches to close up. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and smoothed her hair out, once again feeling amazed that the woman curled up beside him was his daughter. Shifting till he could slip one arm under the crooks of her knees, Alan lifted her off the couch, making for the stairs that led to the second floor. Alan couldn't count the number of times he'd done this before, carried her to bed after she fell asleep at her desk with her face pressed into the middle of a textbook, or curled up beside a set of archeology brushes at her own spot at the dig site. After setting her down on her mattress, kissing her forehead, and draping a sheet over her shoulders, Alan made for the guest bedroom, sending her a final glance over her shoulder. Oh, how he loved her… and how he worried for her.

OOOO

A week later, Gwyn had been driven to the airport by her father, who had insisted on being there to send her off. He was dressed in work attire since he'd be returning to the dig site Gwyn had been working on as her replacement; it was a style that she'd rarely ever seen him out of. Lightweight button downs, khaki colored pants, sturdy boots, sunglasses fitted into the breast pocket, and his weather-worn, time-beaten fedora topped the look off. Gwyn was dressed for comfort, dreading the long flight and boat ride, but it looked to all passer-bys that he was the one ready for the journey, not her. Alan had sighed and looked at the canvas bag slung over her shoulder.

"It feels like I'm sending you off to college again," he commented as they stopped just in front of the security check. Gwyn laughed and placed both hands on the curve of her waist.

"Well, college doesn't have dinosaurs," she pointed out. Alan raised his eyebrows and chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head.

"Don't remind me." There was a pause where he figured out what to do, and what to say. Reaching out, he took her by the shoulders gently and pursed his lips. For the whole of the last week he had been trying to not let his emotions get to him, trying to simply focus on work, but it proved hard to nearly impossible some days. He inhaled deeply and forced a smile onto his lips, feeling an unpleasant prickling sensation tickling his eyes. "You be careful, alright?"

Gwyn simply nodded for a moment, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth before she launched forward and hugged him the tightest she had in years. She buried her face in his shoulder, fisted the back of his shirt in her hands and felt her brows pinch themselves together like she might begin to cry. It felt worse than going off to college. For some reason, it felt more final, a more solidified goodbye. Alan's eyes fell shut and he placed a hand on the back of her head. It no longer felt like she was thirty-two. No––it felt like she had de-aged right back to when she was eleven, and there was no way in hell he wanted to let her go and get on that plane. But when he opened his eyes again, took in the sterile lighting of the airport and felt Gwyn forcing herself to take deep-breaths, he was reminded he couldn't stop her. Not anymore.

"Call me the minute you get there," he told her as they broke apart. She wiped at one of her cheeks and nodded. A laugh bubbled past her lips and she adjusted the bag that sat on her shoulder.

"I don't think I can do it the minute I get there, but I'll try. I'll Skype you," she amended. Alan smiled at her and drew her in for one last hug.

"Even better." He pressed a kiss to her temple, holding her tightly against his chest. When they broke apart again, Alan reached up and removed his hat, extending it towards his daughter. "Take it with you."

Gwyn stared at him wide eyed for a moment, shaking her head adamantly, only reaching out to push the infamous tan hat back towards him. He had always worked in that hat and never arrived on a dig site without it. Not to mention, it had been through two raptor attacks and a pterodactyl flock.

"I can't. You'll need it more than I do! As you and I both know…"

"Paleontologists never work in the shade," they recited together, smiling simultaneously. It was something that he'd said over and over again, a phrase that he used to remind her not to leave the house––or the trailer or R.V.––without one.

"Which is why you shouldn't go to a tropical island without it. I happen to know you didn't pack one, darling; besides, this one has seen action, it should bring you some luck." Gwyn rolled her eyes and shook her head, but couldn't resist the smile that begged to appear on her lips. Chuckling deep in his chest, Alan reached up and plopped the hat safely onto the crown of her head, fitting it so it didn't droop too low over her forehead as it once had.

"Thanks, dad. I'll keep it safe for you," she said, adjusting the way it sat a bit more.

"More important that you stay safe; I can always get another hat. I can't get another daughter. Now, go, before I decide to let the hat take your ticket and keep you with me," Alan insisted, gesturing to the security check. With a smile and a final kiss to her father's cheek, Gwyn turned around and started the first leg of her journey.

Afterword: Wow, I haven't been this apprehensive about posting a story in a while; I've nearly posted this chapter (which was rewritten at least four times) seven times in the last week. I love the franchise and got this idea when I saw Jurassic World for the first time. I just… hope that I'm not doing anything an injustice. Well, I hope that you all who decided to click and read––thank you for taking the time to do so!––enjoyed the chapter and stick around for the chapters to come. Thank you all!

~Mary