Gwen watched Owen's back until he turned the corner leading down to the dock, then hurried back to the room where Blue still lay comatose, quickly but gently opening the door and easing inside.
Six hours later, she was overseeing the relocation of her patient from Jurassic World's medical center up to the heliport where waited a fast track chopper to take Blue, Omega, Gwen and Owen to the mainland, to rendezvous with yet another aircraft which would have them landing in Los Angeles around three am, local time.
Barry and the rest of the pack were to follow on by more conventional means; Gwen had utilized every single favor she could think of to get Blue off that island. And thank God she didn't have to worry about Omega; a year ago, the doc knew there'd be no way in hell the male hybrid wouldn't have made things damned near impossible, but Gwen was oddly proud of him, as he deferred to her instruction regarding Blue in everything.
Once they'd boarded the medivac for California and Gwen had checked Blue's vitals again--for the fifth time since takeoff--she finally left the male hybrid with his mate and staggered to the empty seat near Owen, all but collapsing into it. She buckled her seatbelt with jerky motions, pulling out the test results she'd procured back on Isla Nublar.
Gwen tried to read, but the words kept swimming in and out of focus. Finally she gave up altogether, and leaned her head back against the seat rest. "Her vitals are good," she told Owen quietly, more than ready to share any positive progress. "Omega's sleeping back there beside her again, why don't you go sit on her other side?"
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Six hours later, she was overseeing the relocation of her patient from Jurassic World's medical center up to the heliport where waited a fast track chopper to take Blue, Omega, Gwen and Owen to the mainland, to rendezvous with yet another aircraft which would have them landing in Los Angeles around three am, local time.
Barry and the rest of the pack were to follow on by more conventional means; Gwen had utilized every single favor she could think of to get Blue off that island. And thank God she didn't have to worry about Omega; a year ago, the doc knew there'd be no way in hell the male hybrid wouldn't have made things damned near impossible, but Gwen was oddly proud of him, as he deferred to her instruction regarding Blue in everything.
Once they'd boarded the medivac for California and Gwen had checked Blue's vitals again--for the fifth time since takeoff--she finally left the male hybrid with his mate and staggered to the empty seat near Owen, all but collapsing into it. She buckled her seatbelt with jerky motions, pulling out the test results she'd procured back on Isla Nublar.
Gwen tried to read, but the words kept swimming in and out of focus. Finally she gave up altogether, and leaned her head back against the seat rest. "Her vitals are good," she told Owen quietly, more than ready to share any positive progress. "Omega's sleeping back there beside her again, why don't you go sit on her other side?"