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Alan hates this ferry.
He hates everything about this trip -- the contrived way he started it, the tickets in his mailbox, the way Ian wouldn't return his calls and Ellie pretended she hadn't gotten them. How many times is he going to make this trip -- and how many times is he going to make it alone?
"Dr. Grant?"
When he steps onto the docks, there's a woman waiting for him. Says her name is Zara and she's Claire Dearing assistant.
"I'm here to see the other one. Mr. Masrani."
Her brow quirks at his choice of words, but she smiles and continues snapping along the docks in her neat little shoes, pushing her large glasses further up her nose. It's hot as hell out here. "Mr. Masrani is on his way, but Ms. Dearing would like you to feel as welcome as possible while you're here. We've got you all set up in one of our suites--" A little cart buzzes up alongside them and a man gets out to put Alan's bags on the back before taking off with the two of them on board. "--and you'll get a chance to enjoy some of the attractions tomorrow."
"I'm not interested in that."
"Mr. Masrani will joining you, depending on his schedule, and I'm sure we could arrange something with a few of the handlers as well. They're all dying to meet you."
"I would rather not."
She doesn't know how to stop, apparently, so Alan gives in and leans back, closing his eyes behind his glasses and tipping down his hat. It's strange to be in the middle of a park while hundreds of people walk through it. Different than it was then. The functionality is obvious, and the whole place reeks of Hammond's motto. Alan spots a Margaritaville, but the rest of the place is pretty foreign to him.
His room is clean and neat, like the rest of the place. He pries open the blinds and looks out on the expanse of the park. "What's in the tank?" he asks without thinking.
"Mosasaur," Zara says, and hands the bellboy a twenty. "Mr. Masrani's ETA is seven. Someone will come and collect you when dinner is ready."
"What did you say?"
She's walking out, waving a hand over her shoulder as goes. "Enjoy the room, Dr. Grant."
The door snaps shut behind her and Alan frowns.
"What did she say?"
Alan doesn't want to admit it. He doesn't want to be convinced that he could -- but he likes Simon Masrani. There's a calmness he has that reminds him of Hammond, but an awareness that John never had. He gets, now, why Simon was the one Hammond wanted for the job. The one who could make it all real.
Doesn't mean he's happy about it. Doesn't mean he thinks it's a good idea. And he tells Simon as much over steaks and asparagus and roasted red potatoes.
"You are still not convinced."
"Do you think you can keep them behind cement blocks all the time?"
"I do not." Simon wipes his mouth. "That's why we have Asset Containment."
"Boys with tasers?"
"Hardly." He shrugs. "There are women on the team, too." It shouldn't be funny, but Alan chuckles anyway, tapping the edge of his wine glass and shaking his head. "I do not have your favor, do I?" Alan shakes his head. "Well. Perhaps we should take a quick tour of the lab when we're done here. Dr. Wu was eager to see you."
"Henry?" The name just sort of bubbles up. Alan met the man for a total of fifteen minutes, but he can still remember the look on his face, the noncommittal way he admitted to the raptor infants, like they were cats they'd bred for sport. "You have Henry here?"
"Henry is the reason we have a park at all," Simon says, turning his palms up. He's smiling and Alan doesn't really think he should be, but he suspects it's just who he is. "He'll be delighted to see you again."
Alan thinks it would be rude to throw up in front of his host, so he doesn't.
After their plates are cleared, they take their wine into a very beautiful office, something John would have loved. It opens up again after a few moments, and Henry Wu is there, older the way Alan thinks he must be himself, but more or less the same.
"Dr. Grant." Henry extends a hand and Alan takes it. "Thank you so much for accepting the invitation to come. We really wanted all of you to be here--" He shrugs and gestures for them to sit. "Are you enjoying the lab?"
"It's something."
"Henry's been working tirelessly to bring this all to life," Simon says. He's had almost an entire bottle of wine, but he still manages to sound like he's on vacation, perpetually. "We're opening two more attractions." He smiles, leaning back in his chair and finishing off his glass. "Henry, tomorrow--"
The intercom on Wu's desk comes alive, the shrill voice of one of his techs shouting, "The eggs are going to start hatching, sir." Wu gets up, crossing the room to the door and grabbing a coat.
"We'll have to continue this meeting later, gentlemen."
"We'll stay," Simon says. "Out of the way," he adds quickly. "But I would like to see."
Henry frowns, but agrees anyway, pointing to a spot for them to to stand in. Alan's curious, now. Just a little. The tension in the room is palpable, but he keeps quiet. He hears someone say raptors, someone say something about hatching times, and he can hear Henry on the phone, telling someone to get their ass to the lab. "Owen's on his way," he says to Simon.
"Is he? It's the raptors, then? He's--"
"You're still breeding raptors?" Alan voice is louder than he means it to be, and he could hit something, would his Simon if he didn't have some sense of self-preservation. "Are you still crazy, Henry?"
"It's not an attraction," Henry says, hands raised. "We're researching--"
The doors to the lab slide open and this fucking kid walks in, looks like a park ranger who just rolled out of bed. "I'm here. I'm here, what's happening?"
Henry's voice trembles. "This batch is hatching. I think this is the one."
"Better be. Don't make me watch them eat each other again," the kid mutters. Someone tries to hand him a labcoat, but he pushes them away, bending his head to watch the first egg that's beginning to shake. "Shit."
"Are you imprinting on them?" Alan asks. The kid looks up. "Sorry."
"You're Dr. Grant."
"I am."
"Shit. Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. It's--" The egg cracks and his attention is gone.
"Owen Grady," Simon says. "He's part of a research team looking into raptor intelligence."
"Scientist?"
"Navy."
"Oh, good." Idiot.
But whatever Alan feels about Owen, it doesn't seem to get through. Owen's completely consumed with the hatching, watching the little thing break from its egg and blink against the light of the world. His voice is soothing when it stumbles onto the fake grass of its nest, reaching out with bare hands to cup the creature. It scratches the hell out of his palms and wrist, but he doesn't seem to care.
He's the first thing she's ever seen, and Owen's looking at her like she has the world.
Instead of getting toured around, Alan spends his day with Owen.
"Blue, Charlie, Delta, Echo," he says. He touches their little snouts, makes a noise, and they continue ripping at a rat carcass. "She's the alpha," he says, running a thumb over Blue's back. "She's the one I've got to convince."
"You can't be serious."
"S'what they're paying me to do."
"You can't control these creatures."
Owen snorts. "I'm aware of that. Dr. Grant. I didn't come here just to play stupid."
"So why did you come here?"
He shrugs. "Seemed like a good deal. Train dinosaurs. Live on an island."
"Your family must be worried."
"Nah. It's just me." Alan nods. "I can't believe you actually came here."
"Neither can I."
"Just you, though."
It's like a pressure point. Owen pushes, and Alan gives. "Yeah," he says. "Just me."
When Alan turns on the news one morning and sees a mud-streaked, blood-soaked Owen Grady on his screen, he wonders if it would appropriate to call someone and say, I told you so. But he doesn't, and Ellie says it wouldn't be, though Ian thinks he should. Instead, he waits for some news, finds out where Owen is when he lands stateside, and flies there. He remembers that he hates LA, but he hates loose ends more, and there's something he feels like he needs to do, even if no one's asked.
A woman answers the door when he finds the apartment, a red curls and pink cheeks and a ghost of a smile on her face. "Dr. Grant?"
"I'm looking for Owen."
"Holy shit." She swears like she doesn't do it very often, but she lets him in, shutting the door behind her. "He's...he's out for a run."
"I can wait."
"Yeah. I mean, yes, of course. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea--"
"Water?"
She nods. "Right." Alan follows her into the kitchen, watching her get a glass and fill it with tap water. He thanks her and takes a few long drinks before looking at her.
"You're Claire, aren't you?"
"We didn't meet during your trip, did we?" Alan shakes his head. "Simon was...he loved having you there. I think it made it seem real for him."
"I'm sorry he's gone." Claire nods. "You made it, though."
"I guess we did."
"That's a good thing. It's good that you did."
The door opens and Owen comes in, sweaty and just as young as the first time Alan met him, but tired. He freezes, hand on the lock, looking between the two of them. "What's happening?"
"Dr. Grant wanted to see you."
"Okay." Owen nods, coming into the kitchen and putting a hand on the small of Claire's back. She leans against him, pushes herself up to whisper something in his ear, and disappears into the back of the apartment. Owen gets a glass of water, and turns to face Alan. "Hi."
"What happened to your raptors?"
"Three dead. Blue's on the island still."
"Without her pack," Alan murmurs.
"Yeah." Owen's grip on the cup is tight, but he sets it down before he can break it. "You flew here just to see me?"
"What's about to happen to you is going to be really hard."
Owen chokes on his own laugh. "You mean the not sleeping and the reporters and the smell that won't come out of my nose?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, it sucks pretty hard."
"You're going to make it, though." Owen shrugs. "You will."
"It'd be easier to pretend it didn't happen."
Alan shakes his head. "We did that before. And this is where we are now."
Owen sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Are you in town for long?"
"The weekend."
"Right. Let's...let's do something. Isn't your other guy living here?"
"Ian."
"Let's get dinner. Isla Nublar survivors anonymous."
"Ian is hardly anonymous," Grant says, chuckling.
"Well, he can be our distraction."
"He's good at that."
Owen smiles, maybe for the first time in a while, Grant doesn't know. He lets himself out and stands in the hallway for a bit, wondering if he's made a mistake. If he should have stayed home. He sighs and pulls out his phone.
It can't hurt. Not anymore than it already does.
"Ian, it's me. I'm in town and I think there's a couple of people you'd like to meet."