Chapter Text
Sara fiddled with the lens on her Nikon N90. She wanted everything to be perfect for the first picture and was already in place by the gate in some teeny tiny airport in Costa Rica, waiting for the subjects to arrive. She glanced up, feeling eyes watching her, and met the cool, dark gaze of Dr. Ian Malcolm. She involuntarily shuddered; the man was old enough to be her father.
“Chill,” Sara reminded herself, “He’s not some sleazeball on a set. Dr. Malcolm is likely just curious. Probably wondering what someone like me is doing here.” She shook it off, instead, she steeled her gaze and studied him in return. He was a tanned man, probably of Jewish descent, with thick, black, curly hair in a mop atop his head. He wore tinted glasses that were currently perched atop his head, keeping his hair out of his face. Even from her distance she could see beads of sweat building up on his forehead, but that was his own damn fault as he was wearing all black. Head to toe. Black.
“Does he not realize where we are?” Sara let out a little snort to herself and shook her head. She quickly looked back down at her camera when she realized Dr. Malcolm was still observing her curiously.
“Can't believe a guy would come to the tropics in all black.” She whispered to herself. She glanced back up at him.
Dr. Malcolm was leaning against the off-white wall of the airport hangar with his hands in his pockets. To Sara, he gave off a cool-guy vibe, and appeared very collected, but there was something that screamed “insecure” about him. “Perhaps it’s the fact that he refused to admit his wardrobe is a horrible choice for the middle of summer in Central America.” She smirked to herself.
Sara moved onto her next subject, easily cleaning her camera off once more with practiced wipes.
Donald Gennaro. Lawyer. And he wasn’t too happy to be there, or happy to see her, or happy to be held up. Ya know, maybe he just wasn't a happy guy in general. He was sitting on the bench near Dr. Malcolm, his pale, hairy legs were bouncing as he checked his watch every five seconds. Out of her peripheral, she could see Dr. Malcom turned his head to look at Gennaro and then she saw him smirk. Gennaro was in a cream-grey suit jacket, white button up and tie, with khaki shorts, high white socks, and loafers.
He was a joke.
Sara looked back down at her camera bag, rifling through it and pretended to not be running their brief meeting a few minutes ago in her head for the hundredth time.
She had timidly walked through the airport, looking for the specific gate John Hammond had told her about in the fax he sent. When she got there, Dr. Malcolm and Gennaro were already there.
“Hi,” she tried to greet them as kindly as possible, “I’m Sara Webb, photographer for the weekend.” She held out her hand.
Dr. Malcom had been quick to take it, “Well Miss Webb, if Hammond’s hired someone so,” he looked her up and down, “young,”
“Childish.” Sara’s brain automatically corrected in her head.
“Then you must be the best and brightest in your field.” Dr. Malcolm smiled at her, finishing his slow handshake.
Sara gripped the strap to her camera bag, “Uhh,” was all she could spit out at the time.
Gennaro, however, was a bit more honest about her presence, “I’m sorry, photographer? What was John thinking?! This isn’t a vacation!” She awkwardly stood by while Gennaro ranted, which is when Malcolm told her that Gennaro was John’s lawyer and he wasn’t mad at her per say, just mad at John and mad at the fact he was missing his daughter’s birthday party.
Back in the present, Sara looked up when she heard a jovial laugh echo down the near empty hanger of the airport. She quickly brought her camera to her face, focusing on John Hammond as he greeted the three of them.
“G’day! G’day! G’day!” He said, a wide smile on his face as he shook hands and introduced everyone in the group.
John was an older, Scottish gentleman, with thinning white hair (currently hiding under a wide-straw hat) and a big, thick, bushy white beard. He wore all white—a contrast to Dr. Malcolm.
Sara made sure to keep the two separated so as to bring contrast to her pictures.
With him were a man and a woman. “Oh, thank goodness I'm not gonna be alone with a bunch of grown men.” Sara unconsciously let go of the breath she’d been holding.
The man who had been silently and awkwardly walking behind John wore a blue denim button up, with a red bandana tied around his neck, khaki pants, and dark brown boots. This was a man ready to hike. He was also older, could be as old as her father, his hair was tawny, which Sara could see was plastered down with sweat from the Indiana Jones style hat he held in his hands. His skin was rough, this was a man who spent his days in harsh sunlight with little protection.
The woman who came with them wore a peach-colored button up, khaki shorts, and boots as well. She too looked ready to take on the wilderness. Her blonde hair was currently back in a messy bun, her glasses were also sitting on top of her head, but this was less a fashion choice and more a practical one. She was slightly younger than the man beside her, but Sara figured she must be around his age as they came walking up hand in hand. But she also wasn’t one to judge (hell, her own parents were eighteen years apart in age). She also looked like she spent way too much time in the sun for a regular doctor.
As she finished snapping photos, John must have noticed her when she stood up from her crouched position.
“Ah! Miss Webb!” He hobbled over, his bamboo cane providing little assistance. Sara held her hands out as a precaution should he fall, but he made it to her just fine and shook her hand enthusiastically. His hands were somehow soft and rough at the same time, like a man who knows how to work hard, but hasn’t had to in a long time. “Delighted to meet ya face to face!” John smiled a toothy grin at her.
“Note to self, portrait picture, mouth closed.” She told herself as she smiled awkwardly at John. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Hammond.” She answered.
“Now,” Sara was startled when John linked his arm around hers and pulled her over to the group, “I’ve learned you’ve already met Dr. Malcom and Mr. Gennaro, but this is Dr. Alan Grant and Dr. Ellie Sattler,” he introduced the man and woman to her.
“Oh,” Sara quickly threw her camera bag strap around her body and moved her bag aside. “Sara Webb, nice to meet you. I’ll be your photographer for the weekend.” She stuck her hand out.
“Photographer?” Dr. Sattler asked, tentatively shaking her hand. She sounded confused. Which only made Sara confused.
“Didn't Mr. Hammond say this was some kind of park? Why does he need so many doctors and a lawyer?” She tried to keep her thoughts from influencing her face. Instead, she tried to focus on Dr. Sattler’s hands. They were rough, but not painfully so. She clearly worked with her hands, but also took great care of her hands.
“We’re due to open next year, and I want everything to be ready and perfect for when we start to advertise,” John explained, his cheeks were a rosy red as his face was spread in a wide smile. “Miss Webb will be taking photos of you lot enjoying the park.” Sara turned and awkwardly shook hands with Dr. Grant. His hands were extremely coarse, cracked and calloused. He worked hard and passionately. He said nothing but gave her a tight but polite smile.
“John—!” Gennaro began to protest when John held up a hand.
“Ah! The helicopter is here.” He took off with a hobble down the loading bay, not waiting a moment for everyone to scramble after him.
“John,” Gennaro picked up his little suitcase and ran after the surprisingly spry old man. “This isn’t some luxurious vacation! I cannot believe you would bring—!”
“Miss Webb is excellent at what she does. And imagine, seeing famed Dr. Grant and the company—-admiring the park!” Hammond threw his hands wide. Dr. Grant followed behind stiffly, embarrassed at being called out in such a way.
Sara made sure her weekend backpack was zipped and her wallet secured inside as Hammond greeted the young girl at their gate. After a quick physical check to make sure everyone had everything, they followed John single file down the jetway to a spiral staircase. Out on the tarmac the sun blasted them with heat. The asphalt had been cooking all day, and Sara felt like if they stayed still for too long the soles of their shoes would begin to melt. Right in the middle of a landing pad sat a white and blue helicopter, Sara waited outside, snapping pics of their little troupe as they filed into the craft. One of the airport workers took their weekend luggage and stowed it away. She thanked the worker as they motioned for her to hand over her bag and obliged. However, she kept her camera bag on her, feeling more at ease with it resting on her hip.
“Miss Webb! Please.” John waved for her to join them.
Sara tried to hide her excitement and remain professional as she climbed inside the helicopter. John climbed in behind her and sat with a grunt and a groan.
Now seated, Sara found herself sitting beside Gennaro and across from Dr. Grant. She stayed quiet most of the trip over, opting to instead watch the airport grow smaller beneath them, and then the land quickly turned from lush greenery, to sandy beaches, and then the ocean. Sara knew the bare minimum about this weekend: John had been isolating himself and several construction crews on an island off the coast of Costa Rica, he claims to have been setting up a “biological reserve” but was tight lipped about what kind of animals he would be caring for, and this weekend would be the make-it-or-break-it deal.
This weekend was meant to prove the island was safe and ready for guests, and Sara was there to take pictures to promote the park. She’d been told to take as many pictures of completed structures as she could, as well as approved behind the scenes pictures, and pictures of Hammond and his guests enjoying the park. They’d stay the night at the unfinished resort (Sara could take pictures of her room, but nothing that still had construction tarps around it), John would show them some of the unfinished attractions, as well as security, and then on their third day on the island they’d return to the mainland around midday.
A busy weekend, for sure, but nothing Sara wasn't already used to.
Dr. Grant was fiddling with something in his hands. Whatever it was, Dr. Sattler was shocked to see it, “You brought that with you?” She asked between clenched teeth.
“What?” Dr. Grant asked as if asking what the harm was.
Sara took a closer peek and noticed it seemed to be a claw of some kind. “Looks like a bird claw, but for, like, a really big bird.” She thought. It had to have been a fossil of some kind, but to what kind of dinosaur, Sara had no idea. She'd stopped being a dinosaur kid when she was in second grade.
After several moments of silence where all that could be heard was the constant whirr of the motor overhead and Dr. Malcolm chewing his gum, the man in all black spoke up. “So, you two, uh, dig up—dig up dinosaurs?”
Sara rolled her eyes as Dr. Sattler chuckled politely.
“We try to.” Dr. Grant answered quietly.
This was apparently humorous to Dr. Malcolm as he burst into hysterics.
“You’ll have to get used to Dr. Malcolm,” John apologized, “he suffers from a deplorable excess of personality, especially for a mathematician—,"
“Chaotician! Chaotician, actually.” Dr. Malcolm corrected. “John doesn’t subscribe to chaos, particularly what one has to say about his little science project.”
That was interesting. Sara perked up. Dr. Malcolm knew what John had been hiding?
“Codswallop, Ian, you’ve never been able to sufficiently explain your concerns with—," John rolled his eyes.
“Oh John, John, John,” Dr. Malcolm tsked the older man with a wide smirk, “because the behavior of systems in phase space?” He teased.
“A load, if I may say so, of fashionable number crunching—I do wish you wouldn’t do that!” John smacked Dr. Malcolm’s hand off his knee. Sara pressed her hand under her nose to suppress a snort.
Dr. Malcolm found this amusing and he stuck another piece of gum in his mouth to chew, “Dr. Grant, Dr. Sattler, you’ve heard of— you've heard of Chaos Theory?” He asked, turning to the two sitting beside John.
Dr. Sattler smiled politely, “No.” she admitted while Dr. Grant shook his head.
“No?” He turned and looked around Gennaro, “Miss Webb?”
Shocked she was being included; it took a second for Sara to respond. She shook her head. “Honestly, had me lost at ‘systems in phase space’.” She thought to herself.
Dr. Malcolm looked shocked, “No?” He repeated, “non-linear equations?” He tried, looking between the three. Sara shook her head once more; she could see Dr. Sattler and Dr. Grant shook their heads as well. “Strange attractions?”
Again, they all shook their heads ‘no’, but this time Dr. Malcolm just leaned back on the arm rest and smirked at Dr. Sattler, “Dr. Sattler, I refuse to believe that you aren’t familiar with the concept of attraction.” He chuckled.
Sara sat back in her seat, uncomfortably. He—thank goodness—wasn't hitting on her like the creeps back home, but he was still hitting on someone, and it made things awkward. Dr. Grant rolled his eyes and turned away from the conversation as well. But Dr. Sattler gave him a sheepish smile and turned to bury her face in Dr. Grant’s shoulder. She gave Dr. Grant a comforting pat on his knee.
John huffed at Gennaro, “I bring scientists, you bring a rock star.” And smiled.
Gennaro, who had been spaced out the entire time, blinked in shock and motioned to himself like, ‘Me? What did I do?’
Before anyone else could say anything, their pilot made an announcement, “We are nearing Isla Nublar, sir.”
The helicopter turned just enough that they could see the high, lush mountains on the shore of the island. “There it is.” John whispered, enamored.
Sara quickly raised her camera and got a few shots of the coast and mountains, then she quickly turned and snapped pictures of everyone’s first reaction to the island. John was smiling proudly, as one might expect, and thankfully none of the other guests noticed her or looked at the camera. The helicopter turned and flew straight on, between two steep, lush mountains. It was as if a path had been carved out of the mountains for the helicopter to fly through. Everything was lush and vibrant and so green! Sara just knew the air on this island would be beautiful!
She wanted out so she could feel and see it all, now!
They flew another minute or so before slowing to a stop in the air.
“Bad wind shears,” John warned them, “we have to drop pretty fast, so hold on, because it can be just a little thrilling.” Just then the helicopter dropped like a stone, and they all nearly flew out of their seats.
Sara’s heart was in her throat as she clung to her seat for dear life.
“Ya-hoo.” John chuckled as they all braced for another drop. She could hear everyone clicking in their seatbelts and she quickly, with shaking hands, did the same. While she still felt like she’d slip out at any second, the idea of having that safety net around her stomach was enough to calm her nerves and notice that Dr. Grant was struggling with his seatbelt. He’d accidentally picked up the female end of his belt and the female end of the empty seat beside him.
“No, Dr. Grant,” Sara tried to reach across and grab the right side of the seatbelt, but the helicopter quickly dropped and bounced back up, making Sara fling herself to the back of her seat. She was afraid of flying upwards and hitting her head, and she clung to her camera bag to protect the lenses and back up film inside from jostling around.
Dr. Sattler and John attempted to help Dr. Grant, “No, no, Alan.” Dr. Sattler tried to help him, but their hands just kept knocking into each other from their rickety drops.
“No, leave that piece there, and that piece—look, we’ll have landed by the time you get it right!” John joked. Dr. Grant gave up and simply tied his two ends together. He then gave Dr. Sattler a smirk and he nodded to the tied belts on his lap.
“Well, at least he’s secured in.” Sara thought. Dr. Sattler turned in her seat, laughing, and when she saw Sara smiling, she laughed even harder, which made Sara laugh.
And, if that wasn't a good sign for what was to come, Sara didn't know what could go wrong!
This weekend was going to be worth it.