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Part 2 of Full Circle
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2018-12-06
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2023-11-28
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47/47
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Snapshots

Chapter 22: Don't Let Me Drift Away

Notes:

This is a sequel to The Wedge (chapter 19). Takes place just over a month later. More setup for Full Circle.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Don't Let Me Drift Away

Owen set down his phone, his gut clenching uncomfortably. There was no backing out now. It was a done deal.

"Owen?"

His head shot up when he heard his name being called. He quickly stood up, tucking his phone into his back pocket before picking up a random tool and turning to his motorcycle. He'd just sat down on the upturned bucket he had by it when the door from the house into the garage opened, and Claire came out.

"There you are," she said, walking over to him. "What are you doing?"

Owen glanced at the tool in his hand only to see he'd picked up a hammer, which made absolutely no sense for anything he'd ever do on his motorcycle. "Um, I'm–"

"I just realized I need my suit and I haven't picked it up at the dry cleaners," Claire carried on, not waiting for a response. Owen hid his relief and surreptitiously put down the hammer, hoping Claire didn't actually see what had been in his hands. While he knew she wouldn't have any idea what he was doing, she wasn't dumb, and she would know a hammer wouldn't be the right tool. "I was just going to run out to get it. I think I can make it on time." She glanced down at her watch, and Owen copied her movements, checking the time, just after 7:30.

"Yeah, sure," Owen nodded. "Did you want me to get it for you?"

"No, it's fine." Claire held up the keys he hadn't noticed she was carrying. "Just wanted you to know that I was going out. I already told Maisie. She's supposed to be working on her homework."

"Okay," Owen said, standing up, catching his cue. "I can go in and help."

"Thanks," Claire said, pausing as she passed by him to rest a hand on his arm as she stretched up for a quick kiss. He held himself still, trying not to flinch at her touch. "To be honest, I could get the suit tomorrow, but…"

"Ah, that kind of homework," Owen grinned, feeling himself relax. "Consider it done."

"Thanks," she repeated, kissing him again, this time a little longer. He'd just started to respond when he felt her pull back, which was probably a good thing, because at that moment he also felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he was immediately reminded of the email in his inbox. He stiffened, but she didn't notice, having already moved away, heading for her car. Opening her car door, Claire looked over at him and said, "If you think I need to do anything else while I'm out…"

Owen laughed, his chuckle not quite as genuine as usual, before promising, "I'll take a look and let you know."

He waited until she'd pulled out of the garage, lifting his hand in a bit of a wave, before he turned to head into the house. He paused at the door, pulling his phone back out and looking down at the new notification. Another response to the earlier email. Another person congratulating the "team" on getting the application together and submitted on time. Another person with their fingers crossed, hoping for a favourable outcome.

Owen took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, resting his hand on the doorknob. He'd done the right thing, right? Joining the team? He thought so. Or, more, he hoped so.

The door knob pulled out of his grasp, and he looked up, surprised to see Maisie, who looked startled to see him.

"There you are," Maisie said, recovering quickly and reaching to grab his hand, pulling him into the house. "Claire said I have to finish my homework before I can watch TV and I'm stuck."

"Was just on my way in," Owen said, following after her. "What's on the agenda tonight?"

"Multiplying fractions," Maisie sighed. "Every time I think I've got it…"

x x x

"So, at work today," Claire started as she entered the master bathroom. Owen looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror, and hummed a question, busy brushing his teeth. She grabbed her own toothbrush, getting it ready as she spoke. "Sarah was telling us about her sister, Erin, who's youngest is in kindergarten this year. Apparently Erin's been a stay at home mom the last few years, and now that her youngest is in school, Sarah thought she'd go back to work." Claire ran her toothbrush under the tap, before dabbing toothpaste on top. She turned to look at Owen, resting her hip against the counter as she continued to talk. "So far, Sarah said, Erin's made no move to even look for a job." Claire raised her toothbrush up, pausing to add with a confused look, "I don't get it. What does she do all day? Wouldn't that be boring? Staying home all day alone?" Shrugging, Claire popped her toothbrush into her mouth, watching as Owen leaned over his sink, spitting and rinsing off his own.

"Lots of people stay home," Owen said after a moment, straightening back up. "That's not abnormal."

Pausing to spit, Claire turned to him. "Yeah, I know. It's just… don't they want to feel productive? Like they're contributing?"

"Raising kids isn't contributing?" Owen asked with a raised eyebrow. He reached for the hand towel near him, before turning his tap back on and adjusting the water. He bent over the sink, splashing water onto his face.

"Of course, it is," Claire agreed immediately. "I don't mean to say it isn't, it's just… I don't know. I don't feel like that would feel like enough. Not for me, anyway. Don't get me wrong, I get it — the staying home — when kids are really little. They're so needy at that age. And most jobs aren't flexible enough, so it's probably easier. I mean, I wouldn't want to, but, then again, our situation is pretty unique."

"What do you mean?" Owen was now drying off his face and hanging up the towel.

"Just that our jobs give us more leeway," Claire explained. "That we can shift our hours around."

"Speaking of shifting hours," Owen said, "Are you going to take the Thursday and Friday off for Thanksgiving?"

"I should be able to," Claire nodded. "We still need to figure out what we want to do."

"Not shop," was his immediate reply.

"Scared of the crowds?" she taunted.

"Do you want to shop?" Owen asked with a raised eyebrow, well aware of her own aversion to crowds.

"Well, no," Claire admitted.

"So, no shopping," he said with a grin. "Plan set."

"Right," Claire rolled her eyes, before turning back to brushing her teeth. She watched in the mirror as Owen headed out of the bathroom, pulling his shirt off as he went. She could hear him rummaging through his drawers as she finished brushing, and then the rustle of the covers on the bed as she washed her face and completed the rest of her bedtime routine.

Once she'd finished up in the bathroom, Claire wandered back out into the bedroom. She quickly changed, before joining Owen in the bed. "I just don't get it," Claire said, picking up their earlier conversation. "I can't imagine not having work."

"That's because you're a workaholic," Owen reminded her, putting down his book and turning off the light.

"I'm not," Claire protested, only for Owen to immediately snort. She looked over at him, and saw he'd turned his face into his pillow, shoulders shaking with laughter. She huffed, before pushing at his shoulder, getting him to look up. "I'm not like I was before."

"You were worse?" Owen gave a pretend gasp, and she groaned.

"I'm home for dinner," she reminded him. "I don't go into the office on weekends." Owen gave another snort at that, and sighing, Claire corrected herself. "Okay, not most weekends."

"My, how you've grown," he quipped, and she swatted at his shoulder, although it was half-hearted.

"But seriously," Claire said, turning off her light and settling down on the bed, curling herself into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "I love my work. I love being there. It's part of who I am. I don't know, it's… it's just comfortable. It feels like going to my safe place. What's wrong with that?" She brought her hand up and rested it on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily beneath it.

"Not everyone loves their work," Owen said after a brief hesitation. Claire tilted her head up, trying to catch his gaze, unsure if he sounded nervous when he'd said that, or if she was reading too much.

"True," she agreed. "I guess we're lucky."

He didn't reply, but she felt his hand come up, his fingers running through her hair. The sensation combined with his heartbeat under her palm had Claire relaxing further into him. She shifted, breathing deep.

She'd forgotten that it was almost Thanksgiving. It felt like just yesterday that they'd been celebrating the sanctuary's second anniversary. But, Halloween had come and gone, and she vaguely remembered Karen saying something about the upcoming holiday and her disappointment that she wasn't going to have the boys with her this year. Claire had suggested that she come out for a visit, but Karen had said that she and Jake were going to spend it with his family.

Shifting a bit closer to Owen, Claire started drawing mindless shapes on his chest as her thoughts continued to whirl. Maybe they could go out to the cabin, since it'd be just the three of them.

The three of them.

After their talk post the sanctuary BBQ, Claire had felt like she was walking on eggshells. She'd worked hard to avoid any conversations that even veered close to it. Not that Owen had brought the idea of a baby up again, he'd seemed to have moved on, too. But she wasn't really sure how to take his avoidance. Was he okay with just putting it behind them? Had he changed his mind? Part of her was a little afraid to ask. It was easier to just not go there.

As she lay there, Claire realized that it had been a while, a long while, since she'd cuddled up to him. Another consequence of the conversation. It had left her so unsettled and out of sorts, that the idea of having sex had, for the first time, felt off-putting. It's not that she thought she'd get pregnant (she had an IUD for a reason, after all). And she definitely never thought that Owen would ever do anything behind her back to try to force it. But… well, even all these years post high school and horrible sex ed classes, the idea that sex equals babies was still well ingrained.

She hadn't realized, though, how much time had gone by since that conversation. How much time had gone by since they'd had sex. That wasn't like them. Physical intimacy had always been an important part of their relationship, both of them having very healthy sex drives. While the first few weeks with Maisie had been interesting — as they were suddenly much more aware of when and where they could — it hadn't decreased their desire, especially as they were reconnecting. (That time had also involved a very embarrassing phone call to her sister where Claire had asked for tips and advice, and Owen changing her bedroom door knob for one that locked).

Then, life got busy and the days ticked by. And the more time that passed, the easier it was to forget about the conversation. Yet, somehow, neither of them had made a move, Claire realized. Had he been avoiding it too? Or had he caught onto her reluctance, and had been waiting for her to make the first move?

Trailing her hand down his side, Claire heard his breath hitch, and his hand in her hair falter. She slid her hand under his shirt, creeping back up his chest towards his heart. She could feel his heart rate quickening. Pulling herself up a bit, Claire dropped kisses along the line of his jaw. She felt his hand slip out of her hair and he moved to running it up and down her back.

She moved to kiss him on the lips and felt him pull her closer, shifting as if to roll them over. Claire pushed him down, whispering "Relax, let me do the work." She kissed him again. When she went to deepen it she felt him pull away and she stopped, her eyes flying open. She wasn't sure what to think, how to feel. Did he not want it? Not want her? Looking away from him, she moved to pull back, only to feel him tightening his hold on her. She looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a look in his eyes she didn't understand. For a long moment, neither of them said anything, and then Claire asked, hesitantly, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Owen sighed, bringing a hand up to scrub down his face. He looked away for a moment, before meeting her eyes again. "I'm just tired."

"Oh," Claire didn't know how to respond to that. He'd never been too tired for sex before. In fact, he was usually the one initiating it, tired or not. She couldn't remember him ever pulling away before, ever not wanting it. She went to move away again, but he didn't let go, so she resettled, tucked into his side, head pillowed by his shoulder. She couldn't see his face anymore, but she felt him drop a kiss onto her hair before his hand started trailing up and down her back again. She couldn't help it when she stiffened, and he paused in his actions, letting out a slow exhale.

"I'm sorry," Owen whispered a minute later, and Claire just brought her hand back up to rest over his heart, unable to come up with any other response.

Maybe he really was tired. She knew he'd been busy with a big work project and that they were in a hurry to meet a deadline. She'd assumed things were fine, as he'd continued to cook dinner and help with homework all week. He hadn't given any indication that things were tough. Or had he, and she had been too caught up in her work to notice?

As she lay there, she could feel his heart thumping steadily below her hand. Closing her eyes, Claire tried to take comfort in the fact that he hadn't completely pushed her away, that he still had his arm wrapped around her, holding her close to him. She guessed she'd have to settle for that.

x x x

Waving goodbye to his colleagues, Owen climbed into his truck, trying to ignore the few comments he heard as pulled out of the site. There were a couple of relatively new members on the crew, and one of them had taken it upon himself to make snide comments about Owen.

Usually, he could let that stuff just roll off his back. He generally liked his life, after all, but this week it was getting on his nerves. Comments about how he was "whipped" and obviously it wasn't Owen who "wore the pants" in his family. Comments about how picking up kids from school or being home for them was "women's work" (he'd had to work hard to suppress his instinct to punch the guy on that one). Most of the comments were made when he was almost out of earshot, and he was never quite sure if the guy didn't realize he could still hear. Was he taunting him on purpose? Or thinking he was doing it all behind his back? He'd heard a few of his other colleagues give defenses for him, but he never stuck around long enough to see how they went, preferring to get farther away to make sure he didn't lose it and snap.

Thankfully, today was Friday and that meant a two day break from work. He was, mostly, looking forward to it.

Ever since the night earlier in the week, the night when Claire had been talking about work and how meaningful she found it and how weren't they both lucky that they enjoyed their jobs, he'd felt antsy. He should've told her then, he knew. Should've used that opportunity to say, no, he didn't find his job satisfying. Should've told her about the job offer, and that he'd put his name in.

But he hadn't.

And then he'd pulled away. He hadn't meant to. Well, that's not quite right. He had been feeling uncomfortable. When she'd cuddled into him, it had felt calming, settling his racing mind and allowing him to relax. But then she'd had to bring up work again. Had to talk about how work made her feel safe. It hadn't been all that long ago that she'd told him that he did that. What had changed?

She hadn't tried anything since that night. But she also hadn't completely pulled away, staying at his side afterwards. He wasn't sure how to reconcile those two things. Did it mean she was okay with him pulling back? Were they fine? It didn't quite feel that way, considering her (lack of) actions since.

Owen knew he probably needed to be the one to initiate it. He just couldn't bring himself to do so. Because every day that passed, he could just feel the job application weighing him down even more. It felt like he was walking around chained to a giant boulder; a constant reminder that he needed to say something.

He knew that making the first move, that having sex, would be easy. That had never been the hard part of their relationship. It was always communication that seemed to trip them up, both of them holding back out of fear of the other's reaction.

Just like he was doing right now.

Why didn't that realization make it any easier to tell her? He knew that every day that went by was just going to make it worse. It was already going to be bad enough that he hadn't told her before the proposal was submitted. Each day that passed now, was just dragging that out.

What was holding him back?

That was the big question, wasn't it, he mused. What was holding him back? What did he really think was going to happen if he told her? That she'd be against it? He didn't think that. He knew Claire would be happy for him. That she'd support him. But… knowing that and knowing that, were apparently two different things.

The one thing about Claire, the one thing that had always remained true about Claire, from the moment he'd first been introduced to her back on Nublar, was that she always seemed to know exactly what she wanted. He had thought he was the same way, until he'd met her. Until he'd seen her in action. He was generally really confident in his own actions, but she took it to another level.

Sometimes, that was great. He'd never felt anything quite like the feeling when he'd realized that she'd wanted him. But other times, whenever he was waffling over a decision, or trying to sort out an area of his life, it just felt draining. Her confidence that she had the right answer would make him second-guess his even more. He knew that was what had kept him from telling her at the start. He had wanted the time to think through the offer, to decide if he thought it was worth pursuing, before he told her.

On the other hand, her confidence did make him appreciate, all the more, the moments when she faltered and would turn to him, looking for direction, support, something. To know that he could provide that, that she got that from him, that she needed him, to some degree, made him puff up with pride. He had always thought they were stronger together.

But lately, for some reason, it felt like something was out of place. Like they were just out of sync. From their conversation after the sanctuary BBQ, to Claire's actions and his response the other night. There was just something off in their cadence and he didn't know how to reset it. He didn't think it was just the job. That didn't seem big enough.

He knew they had rushed things, when they had decided to stick it out a second time, after Lockwood. He didn't regret that choice. And he was pretty sure she didn't either. But in the rush of things — in the speed at which they got married, bought a house, took in Maisie, dealt with the fallout — they had never really discussed everything. There was so much going on, and not enough time (or energy) to have the big conversations that they both knew they needed to have, but that had never felt important enough to try to stop and force time for.

And things had worked. They'd settled into their new lives, with a bit of fumbling, but not as much as they had the first time. They knew each other better now. They knew what they wanted better now. To some degree, reconnecting, moving back in, had felt like coming home. Like the final piece of his puzzle was snapping back into place. He knew (and had known) it wasn't quite that simple. But things had worked, and it had been easier to just not question it, to not rock the boat. Why mess with a good thing?

But now? Now Owen didn't know what the right course of action was. Pulling onto their driveway, he turned off his truck, but didn't get out right away. The garage door was up, and he could see Claire's car parked inside, which meant, for once, she'd beat him home. Getting out, meant having to face her. And he still didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to start the conversation he knew he desperately needed. And he didn't want to be the one who finally did rock the boat.

 

Notes:

Well? More angst... I know, surprise. :P I've got another snapshot (fluffy, I swear) and a one shot (about the breakup between JW and FK, so angsty) that are both getting close to completion. Gotta find time for editing. And writing IC. And MY. :) Preferences on order?