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Summary: She is not supposed to be there when the egg hatches. But she is the first thing it sees when the shell breaks. She never wanted to be a mother. Suddenly, she is.

IMPRINT

It looked pretty much like an ostrich egg, Claire Dearing decided as she bent low, her perfectly powdered nose less than an inch from the warm transparent screen of the incubator. All right, maybe not as round as an ostrich egg and certainly a lot longer, but uncannily white and smooth, almost pure beneath the harsh glare of the laboratory lights. The second egg had been removed just minutes before, and it was the primary reason why she had been called down in her capacity as the Park Operations Manager. They had lost eggs before, but never one that cost twenty-six million dollars. The heartbeat had flatlined six hours before and the doctors could not detect any sign of movement. She had authorised pulling the plug, so to speak. Claire was just thankful that she didn't have to be present during the post-mortem, which was happening at that moment. At least at the stage of its death, the asset had been more or less fully formed and she doubted Henry would have trouble finding a reason why its heart had given out. She would then type out that reason in a couple of dozen emails and those would be the last words said for the asset that never was.

And that was why there wasn't a single doctor around when the egg started to hatch. It started with a fine crack, fine as a hair. It quickly grew into a spider's web as the shell bulged. Something was trying to push its way into the world and it was certainly doing it with gusto. Claire pursed her scarlet Yves St Laurent covered lips as she straightened up and looked around for someone, anyone. Vaguely she remembered staying away well away from the hospital during the respective births of her nephews. She had waited until they had been less pink, less squished—for want of a better word—more swaddled and not as formidably vulnerable before she had visited. Karen had been upset the first time; Claire had blamed it on work. The second time, neither of them had said anything.

"Excuse me," she called out to the nearest technician. The nametag introduced the person as 'Will Hofferson'. "Mr Hofferson," she breathed in relief, "the egg appears to be hatching."

Pale brown eyes blinked at her. Will was wearing the mandatory white protective coat which was part of the lab staff uniform but he wasn't wearing a tie and neither had he bothered with the top button of his shirt. And his collar was creased. Claire swiped a suddenly cool palm on the silk of her tailor-made skirt, the one she had worn three weeks before to a meeting with potential sponsors. Afterward, the Verizon representative—who had agreed to pay for an additional baby dinosaur petting exhibit and accompanying nursery equipped with state of the art medical facilities just for the additonal assets—had pulled her aside, complimented her on the cut and asked for the name of the shop which she had purchased it from. Everything, from her make-up to her hair to her clothing and even her shoes was an image of the multibillion-dollar company and park she represented. She was professional immaculate perfection and nothing, nothing could go wrong.

"Mr Hofferson," Claire repeated, an edge to her words. "That asset is hatching. Do something. What is the procedure for such an event?"

That seemed to press a few buttons. "They usually feed them when they come out of the shell," he blurted out, eyes just over her shoulders on the egg.

"Then I suggest that you bring some food and then fetch Dr Wu."

"He said none of them were to be disturbed. She wasn't supposed to have come this early. He said the hatching would take place next week."

An early achiever, her mother would have said. Claire herself had been a month premature. "You just couldn't wait to have a go at the world," her mother had whispered as she ruffled Claire's hair one last time before the wounds from the car crash took her. She had been thirteen and Karen had been twenty and away at college and their father whom they had never really known had given her a house and no heart to stay in. So Claire had achieved the best way she had known how. She studied ferociously, graduated early and gotten into Harvard. Her professor used to say that Claire mowed down the competition like lawn weeds. Claire used to shrug and simply say she wanted to do her best. It was an anchor, her armour. Being the best opened doors and gave her control. It gave her choices.

And right now, she had a choice to make with twenty-six million dollars weighing down on it. "Get me the food."

Before he left, Will unlocked a square hatch, the lid of the incubator. "They tend to scream a lot when they first come out of the egg. The doctors usually pick them up and take them to the nursery."

She knew where the nursery ward for newly hatched assets was, just one corridor down from where she was standing. "Go and get the food," she said tersely, trying to ignore the tight gnawing in her gut that told her something was bound to go wrong.

And since she was never wrong, it did happen. Sharp black claws a centimetre long raked through the fragile barrier of the shell and Claire found herself turning cold as she sucked in a harsh breath and looked into a bulging golden eye with a long black slit in the middle. 'Dragon eye,' she thought numbly, for once remembering that hideously boring fantasy movie about some hobbits and dwarves fighting a dragon which she had been forced to watch on the second worst date of her life. The worst date happened just two weeks before but that was not something she wanted to recall just yet. It was too raw.

"A sentiment that might apply perfectly to you," she found herself whispering as she stared, transfixed, mesmerised and horrified as the eye blinked again, flickering in quick succession. The claws flexed and suddenly fragments of shell were flying everywhere. Some smacked the screen with tiny audible thuds and Claire took an involuntary step back.

The asset screamed and lunged out of the remaining hollow of the egg. It was slimy, slippery and slipping and full of pulsing membranes and veins beneath shockingly pale scales. A tiny head whose shape bore a vague resemblance to the Tyrannosaurus Rex it shared genomes with reared up and Claire found herself the target of those huge amber eyes again. The dinosaur shrieked as it slid in a puddle of its own ooze, claws scrabbling and legs flailing as it squirmed in her direction.

'Shitshitshitshitshit. Where the hell is Hofferman?' Claire screamed internally as she looked wildly to her left. It was when she turned to her right that she spotted him. He stood three feet away, a small pink ball in his gloved hands, his mouth gaping. "Pick her up," Claire hissed. She was somewhat aware that the other lab techs had ceased work. In the background, the asset wailed and the sound made Claire's hair stand on end.

"I'm not supposed to touch them! I'll get Dr Wu. Here." And just like that, a ball of raw cold meat was shoved into her hand and Hofferman fled the scene. Claire decided that she was going to fire him, but later. Now, she had a screeching creature worth more money than all of them in this room combined would ever see to handle.

She had never met John Hammond, but his claim about being present for every single hatching was one that she was well aware of. Ignoring the fact that she was probably never going to be able to wear that morning's suit again, or at least the top half of it, Claire put the blob of food on the edge of the table, took a deep breath, clenched her teeth so hard that the pain in her jaw went up to her temples. And then she opened the latch, reached in with both hands and shuddered as her fingers closed around the cool thrashing body of the Indominus Rex. Sharp claws latched onto her skin and Claire bit her inner cheek against the multiple stings, tried not to notice too much the spindly fingers that grabbed at her wrists, the three-toed feet with the same dark claws that reached frantically for a foothold in her flesh. At least it stopped shrieking. She chose to focus on that.

Awkwardly, she held it up over the incubator, held it almost at arm's length and realised that this was one of the very few times in her life when she honestly had no idea what to do. Henry was coming, at least she thought he was. Or she could run like hell to the nursery and deposit this mess there. It was so tiny; they sold toy models of the T-Rex in the shop stores that were bigger than this. Then the dinosaur mewled, chittered at her and Claire felt something move in her chest when she felt the throaty vibrations against her palm and realised she was feeling its beating heart. Those huge eyes never moved from her face.

It was the sudden draft of air-conditioning that galvanised her into action. Dinosaurs were, surprisingly, warm-blooded but God only knew what possible conditions a premature one was born with. Claire did the only thing she knew to keep the asset alive and well. Against a backdrop of ear piercing yowls, she untangled one hand from the dinosaur, ripped open the top two buttons of her Donna Karen blouse and slipped the Indominus Rex in, pulling the silk carefully over its small body. She tried not to jerk as once more, the newborn tried to grip her chest and shoulder with one small arm while keeping its legs and other arm firmly wrapped around the hand that was supporting it. A little tail thumped incessantly against her. But she held it there securely, half-aware that she was shushing it under her breath, patting it awkwardly as she slowly added the edge of her jacket as an additional layer of warmth as well. "Calm down," she murmured, "just calm down." She could probably have used some of her own advice.

"You need to feed her."

Claire jumped when she realised that Owen Grady had gotten within a foot of her without her knowledge. It shouldn't have been possible but more adrenaline fired through her system and she felt a horrible melting pit in her belly as she stared at the tall raptor trainer who had been her worst date ever. Then the baby in her arms snarled and hissed so hard that Claire tightened her grip on it. No baby creature alive should have a mouthful of already visible sharp teeth or be able to snap its jaws with that much force minutes out of the shell or womb.

"She's defending you."

Was it just her or was he actually amused? But Owen's intense gaze, which shifted between her and the Indominus Rex, gave nothing away as he held out a bit of meat towards her. "Take it, Claire. Trust me, she's hungry but she will only take it from you."

She tried not to notice the warmth of his fingers brushing hers as she shakily took the tiny amount, no larger than half her thumb, and brought it close to the snout that was eagerly rooting about in the air, having scented food.

"Watch out for those teeth." Owen, when he was not being the asshat that he actually was, had a voice that reminded her of hot chocolate and warm syrup. At the moment though, Claire was utterly distracted by the small clumsy nips, the soft warbles and the fact that the little Rex seemed to be making some kind of effort to differentiate between her fingers and the minced meat. There were a couple of accidental bites, but the dinosaur never held on and was quick to release her fingers.

By the time Owen handed her the last of the food, the baby blinked its hypnotic golden eyes lazily at her before it curled back up under her blouse, wrapping its tail over her wrist and tucking its head well away from the light. Claire had never had pets, but she had stroked a friend's cat once and the vibrations against her chest reminded her of the cat's purring.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Owen spoke, breaking the spell.

"What are you talking about Mr Grady?" Why in the world did she sound so tense? She needed to relax, show him she wasn't bothered. She needed to sound suitably grateful too.

"Owen, call me Owen," he had said the first time she had been introduced to him. She had liked that, had liked the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners and the immediate warmth in his smile. He was smiling at her like that once more and Claire knew that yes, she had missed this and yes, she was twice a fool and not really in control of herself, not yet anyway.

"I'm talking about imprinting." He stepped closer, she stepped back and the small of her back brushed the incubator. It was warm and so was her face. "For all intents and purposes, you're the mother."

If she didn't speak, her mouth would just drop open and she would look like an idiot. "No, no. There's no imprinting," she denied vigorously, trying not to remember how the baby had desperately squirmed towards and screamed at her. "It was hungry and now it's not and it can go to the nursery now."

"Claire, trust me. You're the mother. Although I'm not entirely sure what species your baby is—"

"Mr Grady!"

He laughed, the sleepy dinosaur she was cradling poked its head out and gave a warning snap, and then the lab was filled with several doctors with Henry Wu leading the pack as they swarmed around her. At first they tried to take the Indominus Rex. Three doctors had to suffer bleeding fingers and an especially nasty gash that would require stitches before they gave up. Instead, they made Claire go to the nursery where she tried unsuccessfully to put the baby in a specially prepared hutch. Her eardrums were numb and her hands covered in welts by the time she gave up. In the end, Claire was given a private office replete with the nicest chair in the building so she that could lean back and rest while she hushed the frantic baby until it settled down and dozed fitfully against her. Occasionally Claire would look down to find sleepy half-opened eyes regarding her with what seemed to be suspicion.

She was beginning to realise she smelled a bit pungent, probably thanks to the slimy afterbirth type liquid that had coated the baby. But at least it was sleeping. Once it was really one hundred percent in deep sleep, she would deposit it into the hutch, go back to her apartment, change and settle the other one hundred things that had to get done by that day.

In the end, Claire managed to actually keep to the plan. She just hadn't reckoned on an emergency call from Henry Wu four hours after she left the lab. She didn't need him to say anything; the high-pitched shrieking in the background said it all. "I'm on my way," she said grimly, ending the call.

Owen Grady had mentioned imprinting. Of all the dinosaurs in the park, only Owen had been involved in a programme that actually involved any intensive interaction between a dinosaur and its handler. He had been present at the hatching of the Velociraptor clutch. Mr Masrani knew the finer details of the programme; she just saw to whatever they needed and ensured the paddock was well-maintained and well-staffed. She had no excess to any of the reports he would have needed to make. And as the Park Operations Manager, Claire knew nothing about imprinting beyond what she could find in a dictionary.

As she waited for the lift to ascend, Claire cursed Owen Grady under her breath. Then, she called him before cowardice and pride got the better of her. After all, this was for the asset's sake. The multimillion-dollar asset that had, of all the people on this island, imprinted on her.