#pratt pack

The island was humid and misty. Your eyes kept watering from the threat of a storm in the air and your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. It was a slow day compared to the middle of the summer. Vacation days were winding down, visitors were many but yet still few. Screaming little kids were already strapped in on their planes and on their way home to suburbia. 

The walkie-talkie strapped to your khaki shorts vibrated and gurgled. You reached down for it and kept your eyes glued to the throngs of tourists grazing through the streets.

“Come in, Y/N. We’ve got an irritated triceratops down here, scaring some of the guests. We think she’s getting sick. Might wanna come check it out.”

You laughed to yourself as a little kid jumped and pointed at the giant science building at the end of the road.

“On it, I’ll be there in ten,” you said, clicking the walkie back into its place.

The island itself was large, but the area really used by the park was small. The ride would have been quicker had you not had to fight for space on the main roads.

When you arrived, the guests had been lead away, and there were two other people there. One them was your friend- he worked mainly with the babies, and they probably called him since he cared for her when she was young and wanted to try bringing in a comforting face. The other was a usual ranger, somebody the rest of the staff would consider a passing-by face. He smiled a handsome crooked smile and waved as you approached.

“What’s going on?” You asked, your hands finding a spot on your hips. You squinted against the heat and the humidity.

“She’s been acting up lately. Go bad today, she tried attacking one of the spheres. Of course, the people inside were fine, just afraid.”

“Could be natural behavior for an animal,” you said.

“Or she could be sick,” your friend shrugged with a sigh. “Wants to be left alone.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to take a look,” you said, rolling up your sleeves so they rested just above your forearms. 

You slid through the gate into her enclosure, the other two men trailing behind you. She was big now. She rested on the ground in the shade, her breathing hard and heavy. Foam bubbled at the corners of her mouth, her pointed snout dug into the cool dirt.

“Hey, girl,” you whispered, kneeling beside her.

She let out a weak groan which turned into a muted roar. She huffed, the air leaving her nose like wisps of smoke. 

You frowned, reaching out to rub her head. She flinched away at first, but gradually the trust she held a few days ago at her last check-up returned.

“She might have a little passing bug,” you said, “if she has it, chances are its going around between all of them. We’ll wanna check them all.”

You turned your head away from her and squinted back at the guys, their hands in their pockets. Your friend frowned and began to make his way over.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said as he neared, “you’re not feeling well?”

She cried out again and began to throw herself up to her feet.

“Woah, woah there,” you said, standing up slowly and holding your hands out, “it’s alright, nobody gonna hurt you.”

She stomped her front foot into the dirt, a cloud of dry dust rising around her. She snarled and huffed, the air from her nose warm and wet. You held up your hands still.

“Shh, shh,” you tried, “it’s alright.”

Your friend held up his hands and reached one out for her, his lips parted and head tilted back uncertainly.

“Hey, just leave her for now. It’ll just-”

In all happened within a second. He inched forward another step and the dino grunted and reared back her head, horns shining under the yellow sun. He dove to the right to escape her path and rolled down over a small hill.

You back up towards the other guy, your feet moving quickly and steadily away from the upset triceratops.

She huffed again and rubbed her foot in the dirt like a bull. She bowed her head and grunted, almost howled, in your direction.

“Go,” you said to the man, “go help him.”

He moved slowly and carefully towards the trainer, lying there clutching his wrist and panting. You held your hands up and breathed slowly, cautiously.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

She reared up again and charged. You waited as long as you could and then leapt in the other direction, towards the two men limping for the exit. At first it was fine and you scrambled to your feet, unaware of the damage.

As you tried to straighten yourself out, a stabbing pain ran down through your side and across your stomach. You collapsed into the dirt. A drizzle began to fall.

“Shit!” You yelled, “fuck!”

You clutched your side in a frenzy and pulled your hand away, your fingers covered in slick red blood. Your breathing fastened and you glanced back at the dino rearing and roaring.

“Dammit! Dammit, get out!” You yelled, struggling to your feet and holding onto your side, bloody and torn. You limped quickly to them, the new guy reaching out to help you.

“Go, go!” You yelled, grabbing onto his shoulder, your weight falling against him. Black spots danced in your vision, but your tripped along, towards the door.

She began to huff again. She reared and ran towards the both of you, head down, horns at the ready.

“Go!” You screamed.

The man ran and lifted you, nearly tossing you through the door as he tripped and fell down onto the other side of the gate. Your friend hurried to your side as the door dropped from above, slamming against the ground with a shake.

“Y/N!” He yelled as you laid on your back, gnawing on your lower lip to stop the pain.

“I’m fine!” You said, “I’m fine, just call for help. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

The other man grabbed his phone and began speaking, his words rushed and panicked. Your friend pressed his hands against your would, already covered in a fresh layer of blood. More people ran in around you, having heard the screams. You let your head fall back despite your will to stay awake. But you were tired.

So you went to sleep.

When you woke up everything was fine. You were sitting up in a hospital bed, your stomach wrapped up with fresh white gauze. You looked around, mouth dry and lips chapped.

“Y/N?” Owen asked, pulling the curtain around your bed open.

You smiled, “hi, Owen.”

He sighed and hurried to you, his hands grabbed your cheeks and pulling you in for a long, sad kiss.

“I thought you were going to die,” he said.

“I’d never,” you teased, laughing. But he didn’t laugh. His hands dropped form your face.

“It was stupid, what you did. You should’ve waited for more people or even just- just-”

“Owen,” you said, “I did my job. Nobody could’ve-”

“You could’ve gotten hurt so much worse,” he said.

“From the looks of things, I can probably leave soon. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” He shouted, standing up and running his fingers through his hair. He turned back to you, his face red with rage. “The big deal is that you make dumb decisions! You don’t think about me, or the people who love you! You only think about yourself! You could have died! Do you know what that means? You’re so immature and irresponsible and- and-”

Your mouth fell open and your eyes stung. You tried to shake your head, but your neck was sore, and the movement seemed impossible. You watched him. Watched his eyes, watched his face shift an his lips turn down into a frown.

“Owen, what the hell?” You asked, your voice breaking.

“I just-” he tried, sniffing and rubbing his hand across his stubble. He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. When he looked back up, he was angry again.

“Owen, it was an accident. They happen.”

“You don’t get mauled-” he stopped himself, held his breath. You looked on at him, watched his hands clench into fists.

“Owen-”

He turned away from you and walked out. He left the curtain open. Claire was approaching with a vase of fresh flowers and stood, watching him go. She turned to you, eyebrows crooked and mouth parted. You pressed your lips together and looked up to try and force the tears back down.

But it didn’t work. You cried.

A few days later and you were home sitting on your couch watching Friends but not really paying attention. Your face was sore from crying.

Could he have been right? Should you have waited? Should things have gone differently?

Your side still hurt, but it was stitched up well and you had plenty of medicine to dull it out. What hurt the most was the memory of Owen standing there, so upset, so angry. Medicine couldn’t numb that pain. You knew that fact well.

Your cellphone buzzed but you left it where it was, focusing emptily on the screen in front of you. Your legs were covered in a soft blanket and an empty carton of ice cream was strewn out on the other side of the couch.

The doorknob turned and pulled. Probably claire checking in on you again. She had brought you home the first day. She brought you dinner, then breakfast, then lunch. Then just dinner. She had called and texted you over and over again to see how you were feeling. Asking when you wanted to jump back into work.

You grabbed for a tissue and wiped away some stray tears that had fallen without you realizing. The door closed softly.

“Claire, I’m not hungry. You don’t have to keep taking care of me. I can take care of myself.”

“Like you did last week?” Owen asked, his voice gentle.

You turned to him, the blanket slipping from your legs with the motion. “Owen?”

He looked down and shrugged. “Y/N, I...”

You shrunk in on yourself, tears bubbling up at your eyes.

“I didn’t mean any of that. I didn’t.”

Your lower lip began to quiver and a tear dropped down and skipped along your cheek. You looked up at him, and he looked down at you.

“Y/N,” he said, walking over, “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t-”

You ducked your head, your shoulders bouncing as you cried. He made his way around to you and sat on the couch.

“I’m here now. I won’t leave you again. I was dumb and stupid and cruel and wrong.”

You fell over into his chest crying. He wrapped his arms around either side of you and pulled you close, into his warmth. You could hear his heart racing under his skin. You closed your fingers around his shirt and held onto him, crying in pain because of your wound and because of the hurt in your head from the last few days. He pulled you in closer and leaned backwards, bringing you on top of him.

It was another hot day on Isla Nublar. The roaring in the distance still sent chills down your spine, despite knowing how secure everything really was. Owen had left early to work with his girls, leaving you alone in the sheets again, without a word.

“Morning, Owen,” you muttered, rolling over with a yawn.

You were bathing in his scent, in the wonderful smell of sleep and him and the sun. You felt a smile creep up on you, and decided to be early for work because usually things went better when you were the first one there.

The bathroom was still foggy and wet, which made it tight and difficult to breathe. You coughed your lungs clear and opened a window, glancing at the mirror.

You froze, taking in the little stick figures drawn onto the wet glass. There was a note sprawled out under them. 

Morning love, see you for lunch.

Warmth began to collapse your heart and you smiled a big mushy smile, the kind of smile that warped into a frown around the edges. You didn’t want the note to disappear as the fog cleared, yet you watched as it slowly began to fade away.

You set aside your work clothes- the typical khakis, a tank top you wore under your itchy work shirt, which you inevitably removed it the sweltering sun anyway. It was hard working with the open field dinos, or the roamers as you and your coworkers called them, because it was an awful lot of driving around and just looking for them.

You spared a worried thought for Owen always with the raptors, but it fled as soon as the hot water hit you.

It was around lunch time when you got a text from Owen saying he had forgotten his food at the bungalow. You shoved your phone into your back pocket and threw your work shirt over your shoulder, your tank top stained with sweat and mud from a hard mornings dino-maintenance work.

“I gotta go grab Owen’s lunch,” you said, grabbing your keys from the lunch table where you and your friends would usually eat.

“Again?” Your friend asked, groaning. “You know, Y/N, I’m starting to think you should-”

“It’s fine,” you said, forcing up a smile, “I get to go visit him, you know?”

She smiled back and shrugged, turning back to her sandwich and cellphone.

You drove the long way back to the bungalow and trudged through the tired tracks and mud to reach the door. Owen had left out his tools for his bike sprawled over the steps, just another mess for you to clean.

You grabbed his lunch from the fridge and tossed it onto the passenger side seat.

You picked up your phone and shot him a text, on my way. Please be ready to get it when I get there.

As you started the car up again it buzzed.

Got it. Thank you.

You threw the phone down next to the lunch and shook your head as you pulled out from the muddy driveway and onto the dirt road that would lead you straight to the raptor cage.

He was standing at the top of the paddock when you drove up, staring down the road. He smiled a little and held up a hand to wave. You just looked straight ahead and bit the insides of your cheeks, too annoyed to acknowledge him.

You got out and grabbed his lunch, walking into the cages and up the steps to where he was, alone.

“I asked you to come down and get it,” you snapped, tossing it towards his chest. He grabbed it, raising his eyebrows in question.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I wanted to see you. Spend some time together.”

“Yeah, well, I have to drive all the way back now and try and eat something before I need to spend the rest of the day working.”

He sighed, looking down. “Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”

You frowned, “it happens all the time, Owen. And I always do stuff like this for you. I feel like you just don’t appreciate me. You barely even say you love me.”

He looked up suddenly, eyes wide as he shook his head. “No, no, no- I do. I’m just forgetful, you know. A lot on my mind.”

You nodded, “yeah, I know, I know. Training one of the most dangerous animals in the world.”

He reached forward and took you in his arms, pulling you in close and tight to his chest. He pressed his face against the top of your head, breathing you in. He held you so tight you couldn’t move. All you could feel was his warmth. Smell his faded cologne. Feel his shirt rub against your cheek.

He let you go and tried to smile, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I will.”

You shrugged, “love you. See you later.”

He turned and went back to work. You left.

You were driving home that night, wondering why you so naively convinced yourself that love didn’t hurt or didn’t make you so angry you could rip all of your hair out. Every other relationship you had been in didn’t make you sad until the bitter end. This one was like a rollercoaster, so up and down, so unpredictable and dizzying that it was better to go through it with your eyes closed.

You could see the bungalow lights on as you approached, the road bumpy and sending you in every which direction your seatbelt would allow. You chewed on your lip and extended your neck to see over the top of the car.

As you pulled in, you noticed something different. Fairy lights were put up and glowing under the dark sky, a gentle light blue like the stars. They hung from the roof to a tree and down to the ground a gentle decline, leading over to a blanket stretched out flat across the edge of the cliff, overlooking the wide open sea and black universe above you.

You got out of the car, chilly in just your tank top and khaki shorts. Owen bursted from the house dressed up in his nicest clothes, just short of a high school formal dance. He smiled, scratching the back of his head.

“You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

You smiled that same smile you had earlier, the kind where it pushed down into a frown and made your heart do flips and twists inside of your chest.

You balled up your fists and picked at your palms, your shoulder rising up to your ears.

“I made dinner,” he said. “I’m not the best chef but, I cooked some mac and cheese and we’ve got some wine left over.”

You laughed. He reached out for your hand and you took it, letting him guide you to the picnic blanket where two plated were already set up, wine glasses reflecting the moon light.

“I think its only fair that if you have to bring me my lunch, I bring you dinner,” he said, offering up a plate full of cartoon-character-shaped mac and cheese. You smiled and accepted it, digging in.

He watched you, his eyes so deeply in tune with your every movement. You tried not to look at him because you didn’t want to get embarrassed or shy. You just ate and enjoyed your view while he enjoyed his.

“I do actually love you,” he said. “I really do love you. So much more than I’ve ever loved anybody else before. And I think that’s why I have such a hard time saying it.”

You looked up at him, swallowing your mouthful of mac and cheese.

“That’s why, I think, I have to do this,” he said. He took your hands and helped you up. Then he lifted you in his arms, staring down at you the entire time.

He placed you, sitting, on an old hammock he had installed on his first few days on the island. You swung back slightly, your toes just grazing the floor.

“Y/N, I love you,” he said, lowering himself to one knee, “I want you to know that without any doubt in your mind.”

You watched him dig in his pocket and pull out a tiny black box. He fumbled with it for a second.

“So...” he said, opening it up to reveal a big, bright ring with a diamond just like the moon. “Will you marry me?”

You looked down at him for a long second, tears welling up in your eyes before you whispered a faint yes and collapsed down into his arms, where he held you, his face buried in your hair as you cried onto his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said.