AN: Jurassic World and Claire/Owen have taken over my life. There's a lot of fic being written for these two that is absolutely lovely and this is nothing special in comparison, but this was just an idea I had based on one of my favorite moments in the movie that I wanted to get out. Just a little drabble. Enjoy!

They never officially talk about what happened on Isla Nubar with each other. Certainly, they have talked about it. They've gone over it again and again with therapists, reporters, coworkers and the like. Karen's always calling Claire with new questions. How exactly did Zach and Gray end up in the gyrosphere alone? What was Zara like? What will she do now that Jurassic World is no longer? Claire doesn't mind talking about it, really. If she were on the outside of this, she'd want answers just as badly as everyone else. Even people on the inside of it want to pick her brain. Lowery's always bringing up the T-Rex thing (at least he does most of the talking then) and Barry and Owen are always talking about their raptors. It's good for them, she knows. They have a bond with those animals that she can hardly even begin to understand. But there's this silent agreement between Claire and Owen – when we are together, we don't have to talk. We can leave all that behind us, focus on what's ahead. Still, their experiences tend to find ways of slipping into their conversations. Owen once mentions that he lost track of his vest after taking it off in the helicopter that took them back to the mainland. After a dinner with Lowery, they share a laugh over his attempted epic kiss with Vivian. Brief, trivial things.

One Sunday morning, after a particularly long week for both of them, they spend an extra few hours in bed. Owen's a heavy sleeper – something she likes to tease him about – but Claire is definitely the opposite. Once she opens her eyes, she can't get back to sleep. Usually she doesn't waste time in getting up to start her morning routine, but today she's content to lay there beside him. Absentmindedly, she strokes his curls, grazes her fingertips from his cheekbone to his chin, peppers kisses along his shoulder. He snores through most of it, but every now and then he'll look at her with sleepy eyes and draw her in closer to his side. At some point, her gaze falls to his chest and as she watches it rise and fall with each breath, a memory surfaces. Before she can stop it, a lump forms in her throat and she feels herself getting pulled further and further away. In an attempt to anchor herself to the present, she places her hand over his heart so that she can feel it beating.

Suddenly, Owen's hand is over hers. She looks up at him to find his gaze fixed on her, all traces of sleepiness gone.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. The question surprises her. Normally, he wouldn't probe – it's their unspoken agreement not to, after all. But there is something different about this. She's never been pulled so deep into a memory, and it seems to scare him just as much as it scares her.

Claire drops her eyes back to his chest, watching as he laces his fingers through hers. For a moment she thinks about whether or not she should even answer him. They've been dancing around everything so well for months now that she doesn't want to be the one to break their rhythm, to disrupt this calm they've built for themselves. But then he starts tracing his thumb along the back of hand, slowly and reassuringly, letting her know that it's okay to let it go – that he's not going anywhere.

"I thought you were dead," she admits in a soft whisper. The words hurt to hear out loud.

"What?" He seems confused. "When?"

"When the Indominus first escaped." All of the memories start flooding back to him as she continues. "I had just left you there, and I was driving back to the control center and… it was just chaos. Nobody knew what to do, and nobody would tell me what exactly was happening. All I could see was you in that cage, and I just kept screaming for somebody to tell me what was going on, to tell me that you all made it out of there…"

Owen stops her there, pulling her tight against him and pressing a hard kiss to her forehead. He had been so caught up in the adrenaline of the moment that although he had seen the way she stared when he entered the control room and although he had noticed the sigh of relief she breathed afterwards, he had just compartmentalized it – tucked it and all of its implications away to think about later when they were safe. But with everything that happened after that, he hadn't dug it up until just now.

"You were so pissed when you came back," she smiles, as if reading his mind. "It made me wonder why I even thought I would miss you."

He laughs at that, and she can't help but join him, laughing through her tears. Their hands are still placed over his heart when their laughter finally slows, and she watches as he lifts her hand to press a kiss against the inside of her wrist and whispers: "You can't get rid of me that easy, Claire."