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English
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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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150,803
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47/47
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Snapshots

Chapter 25: Day One

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Day One

It took almost four days before things got sorted out enough that Claire and Owen could finally leave the Lockwood Estate. Technically, they could've left after two, except no one was sure what to do with Maisie yet. And they hadn't been willing to let her out of their sight.

Child Protective Services had shown up on the second day when it had finally sunk in that, no, Claire and Owen weren't her parents. Claire supposed it wasn't an unexpected leap for the first responders to have made, considering Maisie had always had at least one of either her or Owen at her side since they'd shown up. When CPS had arrived, they had wanted to take Maisie so they could put her in a temporary foster home while everything was sorted through. However, between Owen's protective stance in front of Maisie, Maisie's own whimpering and clutching at Owen, and Claire's very passionate and persuasive defense, they had managed to delay the CPS officer long enough for Claire to mount a successful campaign (and pull a whole hell of a lot of strings) to get Maisie released into their care.

Now that they were finally driving away from the Estate and headed back to San Francisco, however, Claire was beginning to second guess their actions. What did she know about raising a nine year old girl? What did Owen know? And were they going to do this together? They'd tried twice now, albeit with much less responsibility, and had failed miserably both times. Would taking in Maisie make this better? Or worse?

Her palms suddenly sweaty, she rubbed them on her legs, before reaching up and wrapping the flannel shirt (one she still wasn't quite sure where it had come from) more tightly around her, taking in a shaky breath. A hand landing heavily on her knee had her swinging her gaze over to Owen to find him looking over at her, his other hand resting on the wheel.

Claire wasn't sure how to read the look in his eyes and the depth of emotion that she could see. She suddenly felt like she was drowning, overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions. Every time she thought she got a handle on what she was feeling, another swept over her, sucking her back under.

"Breathe, Claire," Owen said, his hand squeezing her knee.

She gulped heavily, but it didn't feel like the air was actually making it into her lungs. Could you drown on land? No water in sight? She felt like she was about to find out.

His grip on her leg tightened, almost to the point of pain, but it got her attention, her gaze shifting back to him. "It's just a panic attack," Owen told her. "You're fine. You just need to breathe. C'mon, with me now." Suddenly his hand let go of her knee and she felt both of his cup her cheeks, locking her gaze on his. Had they stopped? When had he pulled over? The thoughts were fleeting, her blood pounding in her ears, making it difficult to hear what he was saying.

She felt him grab her hand, placing it on his chest, holding it steady with his own. "In. One… Two… Three… And out. One… Two… Three." It took a few repetitions, but eventually she was able to time her breaths with his, feeling his chest rise under her hand as he breathed in, and then deflate as he breathed out. "There you are," Owen said, her gaze finally focusing, finally able to pick out the worry that had been pooling in his. "See, just a panic attack." The use of 'just' made her let out a laugh, but it was almost hysterical, and she watched as his gaze jumped to the backseat.

Dammit, Maisie. What kind of parent was she going to be if she'd already forgotten about her new charge and it had only been a couple of hours? Her breath hitched again.

"Oh, no you don't," Owen shook his head, his hand on her cheek directing her gaze back to his. "You're fine. Maisie's fine. We're all fine."

Claire took a couple more gulping breaths, trying to get control back. She'd never liked feeling weak, and, for some reason, it had always felt worse when she felt that way around Owen. Which she knew wasn't giving him enough credit, as he'd never pushed or done anything to indicate that he'd thought less of her when she was. She had just always wanted to prove that she could do it on her own. That she didn't need anyone else. Of course, maybe that was part of what had driven them apart the last time.

Closing her eyes briefly, she sucked in another breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly and opening her eyes again. "Sorry," Claire said, finally finding her voice again. "I don't know what came over me."

"No apology needed," Owen was quick to reassure her. "Seriously," he said, when she tried to look away, "It's fine."

Unable to handle the current level of concern in his voice or his eyes, Claire looked past him and out the car window. They were pulled over on the side of the highway, occasional cars whipping by. "Where are we?" She asked more for the need to change the subject than actual curiosity. She wasn't exactly sure what to think when Owen pulled back, sitting back in his seat, his hands dropping away from her.

"Um, almost to Mendocino," Owen replied. "I thought we could have a break there, before we make the rest of the drive. Fill up gas, get a chance to stretch our legs."

"Sure," Claire agreed. Getting out of the car actually sounded really good. Remembering Maisie, Claire turned to look at the backseat, only to find that Maisie was asleep, her head pillowed by a rolled up sweatshirt as she leaned against the door.

"She's been out for a while now," Owen said when Claire turned back to the front. "Probably good to wake her up. I don't know how naps affect kids her age, but don't want her up all night."

"A bed!" Claire exclaimed, before letting out a groan, her hand slapping against her forehead.

"Bed?" Owen sounded confused, but he was focused on pulling back out onto the highway.

"We need to get her a bed," Claire said, reaching down to her feet where a small bag of her few belongings (or, more accurately, random things she'd claimed from around the Estate) was sitting. She pulled out a pad of paper and rummaged around for a pen. "We can't have her sleeping on the couch. I think we can fit a twin bed in the den, but I'm not sure what we'll do with my desk." As she started scribbling a list on the paper, she mused aloud, trying to think through the necessities.

The task felt routine, normal, something she knew how to do. It was putting her back in control. She could feel her whole body relaxing as she jotted down items. Even though the list should've felt daunting, and been making everything seem that much bigger, it felt doable. She could handle lists. She was back in her element.

x x x

It wasn't until Owen was following Claire and Maisie through the door into Claire's place that it actually really registered that holy crap they were really doing this. That he and Claire had, somehow, over the course of a single evening (followed by a few crazy days that had felt way too much like a repeat of the fallout of Jurassic World) become responsible for a child.

When it was happening, in the moment, it had felt completely right. And almost… normal? Which felt like a weird thought, now that he was entering Claire's condo, a place he had never stepped foot in before. And that just felt like a neon sign reminding him that they weren't actually together. Or hadn't been as of only a few days ago (were they now?). And that they hadn't really even talked in a few months.

In fact, the last time he'd seen her, before all of this went down, had been when she'd come out to his cabin a few months prior. They had gotten into a shouting match over who knows what, because back then, they didn't need anything to start yelling, it was just what happened whenever they ended up in the same space. Like they didn't know how to communicate without raising their voices.

While he couldn't remember what they said, the words had never mattered. He could still remember feeling so angry and frustrated and hopeless. Hating that he was unable to figure out how to break them out of the pattern they had fallen into, and yet, feeling like they were both pulling their punches, knowing how easy it would be to strike an essential death blow, what with all they really did know about each other.

Afterwards — long afterwards — once he'd calmed down and they had gone their separate ways again, he'd focus on that. Taking comfort that she hadn't gone as far as she could, that she still seemed to be trying to figure out how to not let their relationship, as tattered and broken as it was, completely slip through their fingers. Some fights were easier to recover from, others felt like he was grasping at sand; that the tighter he tried to hold on, the faster it slipped away.

As they'd approached San Francisco, Claire had wondered aloud if they should stop somewhere and try to get a bunch of the items on the constantly growing list in her lap, but Owen had suggested they go by her place first. He'd convinced her by insisting that they better measure the den area before they ended up with furniture that didn't fit. That, and that once they were there, they could also take better stock of what they'd actually managed to pack for Maisie and what she'd need.

Now, as he emptied his pockets onto the kitchen counter — something he did out of habit — he was realizing that for all of Claire's list building, they'd both forgotten one thing. It wasn't just Maisie they needed to get stuff for, he didn't have anything either. Not until he could get back out to his cabin. At least he'd managed to hang onto his keys, somehow, and unless his truck had been towed, it should be waiting for him out at the small airfield where they'd started their whole adventure from.

Tuning back into the conversation around him, he saw that Claire was giving Maisie a quick tour of her place. They were standing at the entrance to her den (well, office) when he joined them.

"We'll get a bed and turn this into your space, for now," Claire was saying. "And maybe some sort of wardrobe, or dresser. And I can clear off some shelf space for your things. I need to get a tape measure–"

"And you and Owen will be over there?" Maisie interrupted, pointing at a closed door.

"That's the bathroom," Claire said. "But, yeah, we'll be in the bedroom, the next door."

If Owen hadn't known Claire well, he was sure he wouldn't have thought anything about what she said. But, he did know her, and he caught the almost imperceptible pause she gave before she said "we'll." And he wondered if she was feeling as fish out of water about this new setup as he was. Because he hadn't thought through where he'd be sleeping. And, now that he thought about it, besides the few hours of sleep they'd caught on the ship, he wasn't actually sure when Claire had slept in the past few days. He'd been attached to Maisie, and had ended up catching his sleep either in a chair or, on one of the better nights, sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, Maisie's head on his lap as she stretched out beside him. Probably all three of them could desperately use a solid night's sleep in an actual bed.

"First things first," Owen interrupted them. "Let's get this place measured so we can get a bed. I don't know about you guys, but I'm done with couches and chairs. And we're going to run out of day quickly."

They had measured the room, and then Claire had had Maisie go through her belongings, while Claire compared the contents to the list she had, making some notes and adjustments. It was decided that all they really needed immediately was a bed and sheets. That everything else could wait.

Owen wasn't really sure what to think when Claire ushered him and Maisie out of her place, pressing keys for her condo into Owen's hand, telling them to go find a bed. He'd expected her to want to be there for that part. But she brushed him off, saying she needed to do some adjustments in her place, to get it ready. That they didn't all need to go. And that they'd do a bigger group shopping trip tomorrow.

After finding a mattress and frame set at the store Claire suggested, he took Maisie to Target in hopes of finding one of those "bed in a bag" combos. Not the best quality, sure, but it would do for now, while everything was still being sorted. And, his real reason for stopping by Target, was that he was able to quickly throw in their cart some underwear, socks, and t-shirts for himself. Just enough to get him through a few days before he could make it back out to his place and get his own stuff. Not what he'd usually wear, but clothes that would do in a pinch.

The rest of the day had disappeared in a blur. When they'd walked back in, he'd been amazed at how quickly Claire had worked, and how much of her place she'd already rearranged, her desk now out in the living area shoved under a window, and the bookcase half empty.

She'd also had a shower and changed back into her own clothes and he wasn't sure he'd ever seen her look quite so relieved over that. His gaze had been immediately drawn to her leg, as he wondered how her injury was healing. She hadn't said anything about it after she'd been seen by the EMTs at the Estate, but he knew she'd received a few stitches and he was sure he'd seen her take some pain pills a few times. Which was just like her, he knew, to cover up any discomfort she was feeling, to accept it as penance for her part in whatever had happened. He didn't want to make a big deal about it, so he stayed quiet, just watching her when she wasn't looking. She no longer appeared to be limping, but he still jumped in, trying to take on any of the bigger tasks, especially once he realized she'd been moving furniture while he and Maisie had been out. He was annoyed with himself for having forgotten about the injury long enough that she'd had the opportunity to do so.

Claire had gone through their bags, giving him a quick look when she'd pulled out the clothes he'd bought, and he'd given her a brief shrug in response. She hadn't said anything, just loading up the washing machine and getting it going.

By the time the bed was delivered (Owen had paid for rushed delivery), his new clothes were washed and dried and he'd had a shower and also changed. The sheets were just finishing up in the dryer, and they had ordered in pizza, eating it on the couch while The Simpsons played on the TV, all three of them exhausted and no one really up for conversation.

Maisie had the last shower of the day, emerging from the bathroom in pajamas they'd rescued from her room, and looking so much younger than when she'd entered. For a moment, Owen's breath caught in his throat, the reality of what they were doing hitting him again. He looked around, but Claire was in the bedroom and so he grabbed the book Maisie had picked out at Target and gestured towards her new bedroom and bed.

He'd asked her earlier, at Target, about normal bedtime routine and she'd said she liked to read before bed. So, after tucking her in (which he didn't really understand, she'd already pulled up the covers herself), he'd handed over the book, and turned the bedside lamp on. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to give her a goodnight kiss (what was the protocol in situations like this?) and decided to skip it until he felt he could better read her. He was just about to leave the room, having flicked off the overhead light, when she called out.

"Have you seen my monkey?" Maisie was sitting up in bed now, looking at him.

"Your… monkey?" Owen asked, his mind blanking.

"This one?" Claire appeared from behind him, holding an orange sock monkey in her hands.

"Yes!" Maisie leaned forward and Claire handed the monkey over. "Thank you."

"No problem," Claire said, patting Maisie on the shoulder. "Get some sleep."

"You'll both… You're going to… You'll be here, right?" Maisie asked.

"We'll be just in the other bedroom. If you need anything, come and get us," Claire quickly reassured.

"Don't read too late, kiddo," Owen said, stepping back towards the end of the bed, patting Maisie's leg, the endearment escaping without thought. He almost second guessed himself, but the grin on Maisie's face as she lay back down made him think it was okay.

"Goodnight," Claire said, passing him on her way out of the room. Owen quickly followed after her, also calling back goodnight.

"Goodnight," Maisie told them, a yawn escaping her. He watched for a second as she opened up her book, before he pulled her door mostly closed, leaving it slightly ajar.

Turning back to the living area, he saw Claire standing there, looking sort of lost.

"Well, day one," Owen said. "I think that went okay."

"Yeah," Claire nodded slowly, looking at the closed door behind him.

"I don't know about you," Owen said, stepping away from the door towards her. "But I'm exhausted. I don't remember the last time I got to sleep lying down."

"Yeah, same," Claire agreed. "Um… you're okay with…" She looked towards her bedroom door and Owen followed her gaze.

"Yeah, I mean, I am if you are," Owen replied, trying not to sound too eager. There was no way he was sleeping on her couch. He almost didn't think there was anything that could top the idea of getting to sleep in a bed, but, if he was being honest with himself, the idea of getting to do so with Claire would probably be the one thing that could.

"Okay," Claire nodded again. "I'm just… I–" She looked flustered, and Owen closed the distance between them, reaching out with one hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"While I'm not really sure what we've got ourselves into, I'm glad I'm doing it with you."

Claire let out a slow breath. "Me too."

Notes:

So... I've got one that takes place a couple of days after this and then, I've got one that's going to be post-FC! I know! I didn't think I was going to go there, but it takes place about a week after the main story ends (well before the epilogue). And I've got another idea that may get written that's also post FC.

Even more exciting, the next The Missing Years chapter is in progress. And I've been brainstorming a potential sequel for Illusions of Control (and editing my way through it).

So, lots to potentially come.

Friendly reminder that it's a lot less fun to post when there's limited engagement/feedback. If you're looking forward to any of the above (or any other stories out there), please take the time to comment on them. Let us writers know we have readers. Thanks.