Owen has told her in many different ways to be careful about that smart mouth of hers. To use it to be preservative when needed, and to be selective with her wit when - not if - she engages in debates.

He tells her that he thinks it is sexy as hell, the way she stands up for herself and dominates. Then he will laugh, and tell her he especially likes that in the bedroom, before becoming serious again and telling her that there are those in power who won't stand for it.

Claire doesn't interrupt him to say that she already knows this. That she has been here for a long time, worked the ladder steadily so she can enjoy the view. Instead, she laughs and tells him she can take care of herself, and will. He had rendered her silent when he tells her that she's no longer the only one taking care of her.

This is the first time that he asks anything of her, and does it in such a way that it is not expressed as an order. No, it sounds more like a suggestive instruction.

She remembers bringing her fingers to his face, and pressing them into the wrinkles in his forehead. As if she could erase them with just her touch.

His eyes, always watchful, and his expression tender as he looked down at her.

"I think you've done enough worrying, Owen. I'll be fine. I mean...I outran the T-Rex, didn't I?" She laughs, though there is nothing funny about it. Not even a year later.

By the expression on Owen's face, he is thinking the same thing.

"Claire, you're not indestructible. I don't want that to be what you use." His tone is serious again, and Claire's hand falls from his face. He catches it on the way down, holding it firmly in his own.

"I think we both know that it was sheer luck that night. I learned more than anything that I am not indestructible. I learned it by what I called assets, and I learned it by understanding that love is more then just a title." The words were slow, as if either she has to think about them or she struggles to say them. She does not like showing weaknesses, and it has taken a long time to realize that admitting these things is actually a strength.

"Wasn't just luck. It was your bravery and determination." His voice is very soft, and he squeezes her hand.

"And yours," she adds, and he just smiles. She knows that he will never joke about his part, just like she can never speak about her own. She understands that Owen will talk himself up, but when it comes to the more serious things he has done that is known and good, he is quiet.

"I love you too," He tells her, and drops a kiss on her forehead, ending that conversation.

This particular exchange between the two plays again in her mind as she sits in a meeting, watching the new investor of the park as he speaks and makes gestures to the projector and his audience.

She is not so much listening to what he is saying, but the way he conducts his speech. There is a power about him that Claire senses.

He reminds her of a poised snake. Ready to attack and sink teeth into the flesh, injecting poison while his prey can only watch, knowing they are going to die but not being able to do anything about it.

His eyes meet hers more times then necessary, and she knows that they recognize each other.

She only wonders what he sees in her.

Whatever it is, it interests him, but does not frighten him the way it frightens her.

The meeting is soon over, and people are trickling out of the room. Claire begins to stack her papers and notes together when she both sees and feels a shadow. Her shoulders tense and her traitorous body flinches.

It recognizes threats. Recognises that who is behind her is not good, and her suspicions are confirmed when she turns around and locks eyes with him.

The new investor-

"Mr. Smith." He holds out his hand, and she wants to laugh because it is such a mundane name for someone like him.

"Mrs. Grady," she murmurs, placing her hand in his and exchanging a firm handshake. His eyebrows raise at her name, and she sees the calculating expression on his face. However, his eyes are like shutters, and she is reminded of herself a year ago, when she too was a master of control.

She still is, but she likes to think she has the best of both worlds.

Claire brushes her hands back to the table, skimming her fingers over the documents as she gathers them up.

She places them against her chest as she eyes the hovering man. He has not said why he remains, and so she decides to speak.

"I'm sorry, is there something I can help you with?" She is all polite patience.

"I'm just wondering. How are you still the operating manager?" Claire thinks she is meant to be insulted, but she smiles instead.

"That's classified, but I do not blame you for inquiring." Classified is still her favorite word, and she uses it as much as she can.

Especially around Owen.

It drives him nuts, and she enjoys that.

Mr. Smith, however, does not seem to like the word.

"It was under your management that led to the Indominus Rex escaping, and breaching all enclosures." It is so blunt that Claire stops for a moment.

But she keeps her composure, and continues to smile up at him.

"And in the end, I am the one who salvaged it."

"But if you had done so in the first place, none of this would have happened. People would not have died."

Claire pauses again. She does not want to play this game, and it is getting harder to use her manners with this man. She keeps her cool with logic.

There is a reason he has initiated this, and the only reason she continues to play is because she needs to know why.

"Maybe so. But I was following orders, Mr. Smith. Things were out of my control."

"Nothing is out of your control."

She regards him for a moment, thinking of the words and the cold way he says them.

"On the contrary, sir, I find that untrue. But to each their own." She moves, and he is suddenly blocking the way to the entrance less subtly now.

Claire's eyes slide to the foyer, which is now silent and empty, before she drags them away and up to Mr. Smith's.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Grady. You're Owen Grady's wife." It is not a question, but Claire feels that she needs to answer.

"My name is Claire. But yes, that is correct." She does bear his last name, but she still also bears her title. She spent a long time building it up, and even now it still stands strong, challenge after challenge.

"So, it worked out well for you, didn't it?"

Claire knows that he is an investor. But she realises that what he's investing in is not in the business. It's her, and perhaps Owen. Because in a twisted way, he is correct. They were the lucky ones. Their tale is something of a movie - they conquered, fell in love and got married. Claire had character development; it is all fitting for the big screen.

But, it is not a movie. And the they are not the stars, and those who died are not the supporting roles.

She remembers Zara, and remembers Zach telling her how she had died. She remembers the far away look in his eyes as he relives it with each words he says. In a recent phone call, he admits that it still keeps him up at night, and if it doesn't, then it certainly wakes him up.

She flinches at that memory, and a low smile curls across Mr. Smith's face.

"I like that. Seeing you scared, vulnerable. I like it a lot."

Claire blinks up at him. His words bring a different kind of fear, and she suddenly wants Owen standing beside her, deflecting this. She wishes she could be weak; the kind of person who yells immediately for help. She knows the truth is, that it is the smart thing to do. But she has never been that way, even in her own terror. So she stands there, and finds a way to redirect. She channels the anger instead.

"Excuse me. If you don't want to talk to me about business, then I ask you to please step out of my way."

He doesn't move, and Claire tries once again to push past him. He suddenly reaches out and takes hold of her shoulders in a grip so tight and painful, that Claire cannot help the squeak of protest that escapes her.

He smiles again, and she attempts to pull herself away.

"Let go of me," she demands. The only sign now that she is frightened is her own death grip on the manilla folder in her hands.

And suddenly, he is releasing her and letting out a friendly laugh.

"Sorry, Mrs. Grady. I was just helping you get through," he pushes her to the side of him, and then strides out. She takes a moment, facing away from the door before she turns around to see who is waiting for her.

It is Barry, and his eyes are suspicious and alert.

She knows that Owen should know about this. They have always worked better together when in sync. But she cannot bear to be more of a burden to him. She cannot bear to bring home any more demons. She does not want to be another worry line in his forehead.

She smiles at Barry, ready to to appease him.

Barry does not smile back.

"Are you alright?"

Claire raises an eyebrow as if she is perplexed by that question, but he just looks at her, and she admits a small truth.

"I don't like that man." They both watch as the elevator door closes with Mr. Smith on it, and Barry says slowly, with narrowed eyes,

"No, I don't either."

And that is the end of that, or so Claire thinks.

Claire comes out of the bathroom in a shirt that is much larger than she is. She does not want Owen to see her shoulders, because she knows what will happen if he does. He looks up at her from the dishes he is washing and takes in her appearance. He does not say anything about it yet, but she knows he's wondering why she's switching up her night clothes. After all, Claire is all about organisation.

She comes to a stop beside him and picks up a towel. Her fingers pluck a drying dish from the rack, and she begins to complete the job. She tries not to make her movements too quick or too hard, because her shoulders are aching under the bruises that decorate her flesh.

Owen holds a clean plate out, his eyes on hers as she reaches up to grab it.

"Honey, are you alright?" Claire's fingers stop inches from the plate.

"Yes, of course." She doesn't ask 'why wouldn't I be' because she feels as if she would be walking into a trap. Owen sets the plate down and away from her, before turning back and placing his hands onto her shoulders.

Directly where Mr. Smith's had been earlier in the day.

Claire knows as she looks at him, and he looks at her, that Barry has informed him of what he had seen.

Which begs the question - how much had he seen? Well, she's not going to ask. Instead, she waits as Owen moves down to the top of her sleeve.

Claire pulls away.

"Owen -"

"Yes?"

"Please don't."

"Why not?" He asks, and she quickly shuts her mouth. She does not have a reasonable answer to give, and besides, he already knows.

Owen's hands move back to her shoulders, and she attempts to pull away again. This time, Owen does not let her.

"Claire." His tone is authoritative, but he expresses it in such a manner that Claire finds herself obeying not because she has to, but because she wants to.

His fingers are now working on pulling the sleeves down. He is very still as he looks at the marks, and Claire finds that she cannot breathe either. Then Owen moves, and his breathing is suddenly rough as he gently fingers the bruises. Claire releases her own breath in a shiver, and it's not because she is cold.

Owen pulls the sleeve up.

"You weren't going to tell me." His voice is flat, and he's clenching his jaw as if trying to keep his anger in check.

No, she wasn't. And she tells him so.

"Why?" he asks, and looks as if no answer she can give will be satisfactory, but she better start damn trying to explain.

"It's not a big deal," She refuses to look at him.

"Claire," Owen says.

"It's not."

"Fine - let's go with that then. If it's not such a big deal, then why not tell me?"

She makes a dismissive gesture, and Owen clenches his teeth this time.

"You have two options. You can either tell me what happened, or I will find him myself and get the truth. Either way I'll know. It's up to you how I find out."

"Barry already told you." She's still not looking at him, but Owen isn't having any of that. He reaches out and takes her chin very gently in his hands, turning her face towards him. She swallows at his dark expression.

"Barry told me half a story. So, are you going to tell me the rest or am I going to find him?"

"Just leave it alone." She knows as soon as she says it, that there is no way in hell that it will ever be an option for Owen Grady.

"Leave it alone?" He repeats, as if he doesn't understand the meaning of the words in this context.

"It's okay, Owen." She says, but it's not. Not to her, and certainly not to him.

"Claire. Those marks on your shoulders? They are a lot of things but they are not okay."

"He's our business partner, Owen. I can't screw this up." She doesn't say it, but she thinks the word, 'again.'

"I don't care who this man is. To me, he will always be the one that gave you those bruises." He keeps one hand on her face, and moves the other to her shoulders. He brushes his fingers across it, and she flinches.

He stops. Takes a deep breath.

"And if he ever touches you again, or makes you feel uncomfortable, I'll give him a lot more than bruises. I'll put him in the hospital."

Claire rolls her eyes.

"Owen, don't be so dramatic."

"Oh, you think I'm kidding, do you?"

"Can we drop this?" She knows he's not kidding.

"Sure. As soon as you tell me what happened." He takes a step back from her now, and folds his arms across his chest.

Claire blows out an impatient breath.

"Fine. He wanted to make a point. I made him unhappy with what happened. Point made."

Owen is silent for a moment as he processes, his expression growing angrier and angrier with each passing second. She knows what he's doing - he's imagining it, spinning it and twisting it, and she wants to tell him it's not as bad as he thinks, but knows Owen and knows that she has to wait.

"Mr. Smith - the new investor then? He wanted to make a point to you? What point? Claire, honey - you know that is not allowed, don't you? Please tell me that you have reported this."

She stays silent.

Owen's eyes widen, and then narrow.

"Okay, that answers one of those questions, but now I have a few more. Why didn't you report it?"

"Because he made his point!"

"So? You think that it's okay because he got a point across?"

"No - I just think it's done."

"Right. Because it's that easy. What point, Claire? Last time I'm going to ask you."

"I told you what point. Message received. There's no need for him to do anything else."

"I can't believe I am hearing this. There was never any need to do anything in the first place." He is shaking his head in denial, and she wishes that she could agree with him, because he is right. He is right, but he is wrong. It was necessary to make a point; she deserves it.

"Please don't interfere. I can handle it. It won't happen again." She tells him, and Owen stops, and looks very seriously at her.

"You can't handle it, Claire. And you shouldn't have to. He put his hands on you, and left marks on you. He's spoken openly of a vendetta against you. He thinks he's untouchable and everything in me, is telling me to go and show him how very wrong he is."

"Owen, come on. You're overreacting."

"Am I? He's an animal, Claire. A fucking snake." Owen sounds like one too as he hisses the words out.

"He's a person."

"No, he's an animal. The worst kind. A predator. He's high on the food chain and he knows it. And he made sure you do, too." She had been trying not to think of the words that had been haunting her, but what Owen has just said triggers them. She mashes her teeth together and squares her shoulders, pushing the thoughts away.

Along with pushing the urge to wrap herself in Owen and remain there away. It's what she does best - pushing.

Owen is watching her, an odd look on his face. But he does not move, he simply stands there, observing, waiting on her. She's not exactly sure what he's waiting for. He should know that if she's argued this far, than she is going to keep driving it home. She walks forward and steps into Owen's space. He's looking down at her, torn and angry and upset and she knows that this needs to end now.

"Owen. Please. I have a new assistant starting tomorrow. They will be with me from here on, I promise. It'll be okay." She looks up at him with big eyes, and he starts to deflate.

"Alright. If I find out you've broken this promise, Claire - and I will find out - then that's it. I'm stepping in. I mean it, this is not a suggestion, and that was not a threat. I'll know if you don't."

She sighs.

"You know everything." There is no heat to the jibe. It is the truth.

"That's the best sense you've spoken all night. But I don't know about this. Come on, leave the dishes." He leads her to the room, and takes off the long shirt that she is wearing. Claire is nervous at first, but Owen prevents her from trying to hide. He kisses her cheek, to her jaw and then down her neck. This time when Claire shivers, it's the good kind. He then moves his lips to her shoulders, and spends time kissing the bruises.

Claire feels almost child like, as if he is kissing her to heal her wounds. She thinks that it works on the outside flesh, but not so much on the inside.