Chapter Text
After the tragic ending to Jurassic World, Owen and Clare went to a ranch in a semi isolated location.
They had a house and food and compensation from InGen for the traumas they faced.
They seemed to have everything, at least everything necessary for survival. Even when the nightmares and vivid memory lapses happened they had each other, a lot more than most people that survived had.
It took many many months but they eventually talked to each other about everything they had kept locked away. They started to smile again, even laugh.
Owen worked freelance, and hunted, Clare had a small job in the town they lived close to. They were slowly getting better, less on edge, less alert.
Owen had started farming and had some parrots to train and observe.
Clare had become more passionate to animals and even once moved a spider outside instead of killing it. They had 2 dogs and a wild abandoned kitten.
Clare had enough of meat and became vegetarian, not being able to taste it without remembering the horrors of the torn flesh ripped from still alive people.
To everyone else they seemed to be healing, fine, happy and content with the simple life they had.
But to Owen something was missing, something felt off, a grief he couldn't place.
Owen woke sometimes in the night, not from nightmares, but a feeling of great disturbance, he would wake feeling off and sick sometimes with tears falling from his eyes.
It always startled him, he didn't cry often and usually only when hurt, he tried to remember the dreams or anything that made his eyes water unconsciously, he never could.
Clare would sometimes wake too, but she woke from graphic nightmares about being eaten alive by a Dinosaur, or sometimes watching her nephews being dragged from sight while they screamed her name begging for her to save them as she stood frozen, paralyzed by fear.
Some dreams were even about Owen dying, about him walking off into the bush and never coming back, about him dying out of reach to say goodbye.
She woke screaming, shaking and hyperventilating always at least a few times a week. Owen would wake up and turn on the light, let her talk or just cry.