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“Whoa, whoa! Watch it, Blue!”
The call comes across the nursery, causing Owen to look up from the paperwork he’s working on – who knew that five raptors could generate so much paper in just three weeks?
As he watches, he follows Barry’s movements. The other man is moving slow, and he’s got a small bucket in one hand. Suddenly, he throws something out, and Blue scampers off after it, into the small cluster of foliage they’ve got collected into the raptors’ side of the Nursery.
Barry comes out through the steel enforced door a second later, the bucket’s handle hooked over his arm and a small spray bottle held loosely in his hand. Owen grins as he hears the five baby raptors chirping at each other behind the other man. They may be deadly, but that sound has become music to his ears in such a short amount of time.
“How’re they doing?” Owen asks as Barry flops down in the seat in front of him, pulling his own paperwork towards him to write down what happened in the last half hour feeding. Barry doesn’t answer right away, too busy scribbling something down in his sprawling handwriting.
“Pretty okay. They all ate well, especially Blue,” Barry muses, glancing up at Owen before continuing. “She’s a bit of a bully, honestly, even though they’re only a few weeks old. She’s definitely the boss.
“Foxie was a bit strange, though. She didn’t eat as much as the other ones, and she mostly hid away today. Did you notice that earlier?”
Owen ponders the question, thinking back to when he came in at lunch time to give the raptors their afternoon meal. They’ve been switching off feedings – Barry will generally do the morning, Owen gets the afternoon, and they both meet up to do the evening meal, as well as fill each other in on things they missed when they weren’t together.
“Yeah, I noticed she didn’t eat as much either. We can meet with Wu tomorrow, see if one of the science squad can take a look at her. Maybe she’s just tired? It’s been like that for a few days now.”
Barry nods at this, finishing up the last bit of his chart before pushing it at Owen to double check and sign with his own name. “Yeah, I hope so. We don’t want a sick raptor on our hands.”
They pass a few more minutes in silence, the only sound being the scratch of Owen’s pen as he finishes up his own paperwork. When that’s done, he pushes back from the table and stands up, slipping all their papers into their designated folders.
Waving them, he lifts an eyebrow at Barry, who just stares up at him with a small smile on his face, questioning.
“You wanna go get something to eat? Diner’s still open. I kinda wanna try that new burger they’ve got – the Jurassic Smash. We can split some fries or something?” Owen asks, trying and failing to keep the hopeful note at of his voice.
Barry laughs, deep and melodious and it makes strange things happen to the region between Owen’s thighs. He turns slightly, pretending to peruse the papers again to cover it up.
“Yeah, mon chér, let’s go get something to eat. But we’re getting two things of fries, because you still owe me some money from a few weeks ago, remember? This can be your treat.”
Owen groans as they start to walk towards the front of the nursery, the lights beginning to dim down to their nighttime settings.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that!”
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The Jurassic Smash burger turns out to be just as good as Owen expects it to be, even if Barry laughs at him when he got a smear of mustard on his jaw. He totally didn’t complain though when Barry reaches up to wipe it away after Owen fails to clean it off himself, tutting at him as if he was a child before throwing his napkin back on the table.
“You wann’ bite?” Owen asks, holding out the burger, his mouth full of beef, cheese, and onions. He’s pretty sure he probably looks like Blue when she her first meal in the mornings.
“Sure,” Barry replies, reaching out to take the burger from Barry, pushing his own plate of quesadillas at him.
Owen wastes no time taking a huge chunk out of the corner of the quesadilla Barry had already started in on, chasing it with one of the fries from the basket between them. They’re covered in a chili gravy that they’ve both fallen in love with since moving to the park, and it’s become a ritual to eat them together at least once a week.
“It’s not bad, but I’ll definitely stick to my cheese and tortillas. You Americans have such a weird fascination with burgers,” Barry muses, pulling his plate back to him.
Owen just shrugs. He wasn’t going to deny it.
“You miss France?” he asks, pulling off a corner of the burger bun, rolling it into a ball between his fingers. He eats it right off, waiting for Barry to respond.
Barry took his time, taking another bite, before following it with a sip of his drink. Finally, he nods.
“Yeah, I miss it quite a bit, some days. Mostly my family and friends, you know?” There’s a pause here, Barry staring off into the distance beyond Owen’s shoulder. “But thanks to the wonders of the internet, I still get to see them, even if it’s not in person. I Skype with my parents and sister every Sunday. That helps a lot with the homesickness.”
“Ah, so that’s why I can never get you to do Sunday feedings!” Owen teases gently. He knew what it was like to miss family – his missed his mother something dreadful, as well as his brother and little nieces. Hell, his missed the damn cat, even when it liked to shit in his bed.
Barry smiles at him, and Owen feels that weird rumbling in his stomach again, a tightening around his fingertips that just causes him to grip his cup tighter. The condensation squishes beneath his fingers.
“So...you wanna come back to the bungalow and watch a movie? I finally got the new Harry Potter movie in from the mainland, but I’ve been waiting to watch it ‘til the weekend.” Owen asks, dragging his finger through the spurt of ketchup on his plate, before lifting it to his mouth to clean off.
He didn’t realize the exact implication of his words and his actions until Barry raises his eyebrow at him, grinning spreading across his face. Owen knew he must have been blushing beet red, but he hoped that it just looked like sunburn.
“Yeah, sure,” Owen replies with a laugh, popping another fry in his mouth. “You know, I’ve never seen any of the Harry Potter movies before. I've read the first book though. In French.”
“WHAT.”
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They’re half way through Harry’s stay in the hospital wing to fix his broken arm and their second bag of popcorn when Owen’s phone starts rattling across the coffee table. Owen jumps at the noise, darting forward to grab it while Barry presses the pause button on the remote.
“Hello?” Pause.
“Yes, this is Owen Grady.” Another pause. Barry watches as Owen’s eyebrow creeps up.
“Oh god,” Owen breathes, leaning forward, pressing his hand to his knee. “Yeah, Barry’s here with me. We’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”
Owen jumps to his feet, shoving his phone in his pocket, rushing around trying to find his wallet and keys.
“What’s wrong?” Barry asks as he stands up, following Owen out of the door of his trailer. “Frère, what is it?”
“It’s Foxtrot – she’s sick or something. Something really bad,” Owen says quickly, the note of panic high in his voice. “They wouldn’t tell me what it was, just to get up there.”
Barry nods, before reaching out to grab the keys from Owen. “I’m going to drive – you’re too freaked out.”
Owen doesn’t protest, releasing the keys into Barry’s grip. He feels like that time when he was ten and got electrocuted when he was plugging in a lamp. Everything is numb, but it hurts at the same time.
They’re speeding down the road a second later, cutting through the dirt trail that leads from Owen’s small bungalow back to the park. The whole time, Barry is murmuring a stream of nonsense out loud – the same things Owen’s heard him say to the raptors.
“Tout doux, Owen, tout doux. Everything’s going to be fine. You know Foxtrot’s been a little off color lately – it’ll just be something she ate or got into. It’s going to be fine.”
Owen doesn’t say anything to Barry’s words, instead choosing to stare out the window as the forest passes them by. His mind is passing over every single bad thing that could be happening to Foxtrot. He tries to push them away – there’s not anything he can do until they actually get there. Even then, it might be too late.
They screech to a halt in front of the Innovation Center a few minutes later and Owen is out of the car before Barry’s got the engine turned off.
“Owen! Owen, wait up!” Barry yells, running after him as Owen stampedes up the stairs.
He doesn’t have time to stop as he flings open the door, Barry catching it behind him. Both of them are racing to the Nursery now, their footfalls loud on the marble floor. They crash through the doors to the Lab, speeding around the corner to where the raptors are kept.
They’re too late though.
Owen knew they would be, but it still feels like someone’s gripped his heart in an iron grip when he sees that small grey body on the table in the area where they prepare the raptors meals. Several of the labs scientists are circled around the table, with the lead veterinarian for the park crouched on the floor, peering into the little raptor’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry, guys. She…she just went down so quickly when we came to check on them before locking up. We’re not sure what’s wrong, but she’s been showing signs of some kind of illness for the last week or so,” The veterinarian pauses, giving them a sad frown. “I’m surprised she lasted this long, honestly.”
“What do you mean, you’re surprised she lasted this long? What the fuck was wrong with her? Why didn’t you do anything?” Owen suddenly explodes, marching up to the table.
The veterinarian flinches away from his outburst – her name tag says Dr. Kinsey, now that Owen is close enough to see. He’d laugh at the irony, if he wasn’t so angry.
“We don’t have enough research on velociraptor diseases to know what was wrong with her, Mr. Grady. I’m sorry – I know she was part of your project, but it at least looks like the other four are still fine and healthy.”
Barry’s stepped up now, pushing through the scientists to kneel down next to the table. Lifting a hand, he lays it lightly over Foxtrot’s head, letting his fingers trace over her skull.
“Can we bury her?” He asks, looking up at Dr. Kinsey.
Owen walks over to Barry, kneeling down next to him. Their knees touch, and Owen feels a small sense of calm wash over him, even amongst the wash of angry and confused feelings battling inside of him.
Dr. Kinsey nods at Barry’s question. “Yes, in a few days. We want to do a few tests to try and figure out what exactly was wrong with her, if we can, especially to see if it’s something that could crop up in any of the other species.”
Barry nods. Under the table, Owen feels the hand that Barry is using to pet Foxtrot shift towards him, and suddenly they’re holding hands. Barry’s fingers squeeze his, and suddenly Owen’s better. Not okay, but they’ll get through this together.
“You can have as much time with her as you want – one of the techs will stick around and get her into our lab area so we can start the tests tomorrow,” Dr. Kinsey says, her voice taking on a softer tone now that Owen’s stopped yelling at her.
Own and Barry don’t respond, both of them focusing on Foxtrot. Dr. Kinsey and the techs slowly start trickling out of the room, back into the lab, off to get things ready for the tests.
“Fuck, why didn’t we do anything, Barry? We knew she was sick – she’s not been eating right for the last week. Maybe we could have stopped this…” Owen trails off, finger running down over Foxtrot’s back leg now, lingering on one of her back claws.
Barry shakes his head, and Owen can feel it through their linked hands.
“No, you’re not allowed to blame yourself for this. There’s nothing we could have done, okay? Nothing.”
They don’t say anything more after this for a while, but both of them are thinking the same thing. Is this what it’s like to lose a child?
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A week later, Barry and Owen are standing in the Dino Sanctuary, shovels in hand. They’ve been working for an hour now, and they’ve got a good sized hole dug up in the far corner of the plot of land.
Both of them are sweaty, the sleeves of their shirts rolled up past their elbows, but they’re happy with what they’ve done.
“You got her?” Owen asks, as Barry steps over to the small wrapped bundle next to the open hole, scooping it up.
“Yep, all good,” Barry responds, kneeling down next to the hole.
In the time it’s taken Barry to pick up Foxtrot, Owen’s jumped down into the grave. His arms are outstretched, and Barry lowers the wrapped bundle into his arms. Ever so carefully, Owen kneels down with the baby raptor, making sure she’s perfectly in the center before taking Barry’s hand to be pulled up out of the dirt.
Before they begin to shovel the dirt again, Barry kneels down and says a few things in murmured French, tossing down a handful of dirt with every few sentences.
“What was that?” Owen asks as Barry stands up, handing him his shovel again.
Barry doesn’t answer for a moment, concentrating on shoveling the dirt back into the hole.
“It was something my mother used to say if any of the animals on our farm died – kind of like a prayer to help them in the afterlife, you know? I dunno if dinosaurs would go to the same afterlife, but I like to think they’d still go to a good place,” Barry murmurs, pressing the blade of his shovel into the soft dirt.
“Especially one like Foxie. She was a sweet girl.”
“Yeah. Yeah, she really was,” Owen agrees, patting the now full hole, flattening the earth out.
“You got the headstone?” Barry asks, kneeling down next to the start of the grave, smoothing a hand over the dirt.
Owen makes an affirmative noise, walking away for a moment before coming back and kneeling across the grave from Barry.
“I got Pip to make it for me special. You know, the guy who works in the engraving shop down on the main drag? He says he doesn’t usually work with stone, but he knew what it meant to me.”
Laying the little piece of stone out at the top of the grave, Owen digs into the dirt slightly to get it situated just right. Barry reaches over to help, their fingers brushing several times.
It’s an incredibly simple grave stone – all it lists is Foxtrot’s name and her birth/death dates, but it still brings tears to Owen’s eyes. It’s as if the whole thing is real now. They’ve lost one of their raptors, and they’ll never see her again.
When Owen looks up, he notices Barry is crying too, tear tracks flowing down through the dirt on his face to his neck, sneaking below his tank top. Owen feels his heart breaking all over again at the sight, knowing that Barry is hurting just as much as he is. Reaching out, he lets his hand linger over Barry’s arm, pressing his fingers into the warm flesh.
“Je t'aime,” Barry whispers, his fingers drifting over the stone, even as he looks up at Owen.
Owen doesn’t realize until later that Barry wasn’t just speaking to the grave when he said those words.