There were four of them. Four oval-shaped, beige-tinted eggs, all grouped together in a neat bundle. They were each a different size than the other, but none of them brought the word large to mind. In fact, he might've mistaken them for some freakish mushrooms and walked right on by them if Blue hadn't taken pains to show him.

For hell's sake, he hadn't even known she was pregnant. Didn't even think she could get pregnant.

Some Alpha you are, Claire had snorted at first when he'd shared his discovery with her later that night. But then she'd grown serious and twisted in his arms to peer up at him, hesitating in that way she had when she was thinking too much. Psychoanalyzing, he teased her.

"Is she .. are they .." Going to be okay? The rest of the sentence had hung unfinished in the air between them, a landmine neither of them really wanted to touch, Owen less so than Claire and with good reason.

Out of Delta, Charlie, and Echo, Blue had been his 'favorite'. It wasn't an accurate term, favorite, not really, but it was the only term people outside of Jurassic World seemed to understand. People like the media, for instance.

His jaw tightened as he remembered baby Blue, newly hatched, only as big as his two palms put together and gazing at him with round, reptilian eyes the color of molten amber. Beautiful, had been his first thought .. and then fuck ow ow and why you fierce little cunt as she'd leapt forwards and latched onto one of his fingers with deadly precision.

The others had hatched early the next day, tumbling out of their shells in a clumsy, disoriented daze. With Blue's assistance, he'd cared for them, asserted himself as their Alpha. Raised them, like they were his fucking kids.

No, favorite did not even scratch the surface of what Blue meant to him.

The correct term, he'd tried to tell people, was Beta. Blue was his Beta, like he was her Alpha. It was simple, they should've been able to understand, but no matter how many times he'd repeated himself, not a single person had grasped the concept of the squad's hierarchy.

An Alpha was the leader. A Beta was the second in-command. Simple fuckin' English, folks. The shit the military was built on. Basic power triangle. Alpha, Beta, Pack.

Claire had been the only one to ever, truly, understand and, for that, he loved her more than words could express. He stared down at her heart-shaped face and was momentarily captured by the intensity of her mint-green eyes.

They'd had a rocky start in their relationship, he and Claire, complete with mutant dinosaurs and mass destruction. Now a year - almost two - had passed since the carnage of Isla Nebular or what he jokingly referred to as 'The Clincher'. And yet .. yet she still got him. She understood his reservations.

"Owen?" she whispered, gently bringing him back to the situation at hand.

He sighed and scrubbed his free hand over his face, wincing as the stubble on his jaw abraded the skin of his palm. The prickly discomfort, though, grounded him. "I don't know," he admitted finally, dropping his hand back to Claire's waist and pulling her close. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent and willing it to calm his inner anxieties. "I don't know."

I don't know if Blue or her babies are going to be okay. But God, I sure as hell hope so.