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Isla Sorna

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bluebetabitch

When you spend a long time building something with your own two hands, it becomes difficult to wrap your mind around the idea of the work being done. Owen grew up around that kind of mindset, and knows very well how it feels to be in the same grip. But he doesn't mind. That's the thing about having a family: it expands, and the world around it needs to expand with it. Little by little, the house came up around them, and they settled into it, and he's never really stopped working this little world of his over like an ever-evolving project that he loves with his whole heart.

They're settled here. Officially. No one can deny it, and even though Owen still has dreams sometimes about InGen -- or anyone -- hunting them down to rip the girls, or even the boys, out of his hands, those fears evaporate every morning. The girls get along as well as any sisters do, and even the squabbling has died down in recent months; the boys have adapted beautifully, and although Chi and Psi still exhibit behavior that looks odd alongside the girls from time to time, they no longer struggle to meet expectations that were completely alien to them for most of their lives.

And then there's Blue and Omega.

The difference in Blue between her youth on Isla Nublar, and the young womanhood that quite clearly blossomed in the Santa Lucia Mountains of central California, is not only noticeable, but striking. Always the one he could rely on over the others, Blue has managed to develop into a creature that is both an extension of his right arm and yet still a highly independent person who no longer looks to him quite so often for cues; she still values her space and her privacy, but those withdrawals from the pack just to brood and sulk have all but disappeared. And while Blue's temper will always strike fear into the hearts of her siblings -- adopted or otherwise -- she's learned to balance it with patience, a trait that would always thwart her more than any other. Until now. Owen always wanted Blue to learn that balance between animal instinct and human rationality, and he knew she'd get there in her own way sooner or later. Now, it seems she has, and it's a beautiful thing to see.

Then, as if her own transformation wasn't enough, she'd somehow managed to turn her mate into an entirely different person.

If Blue's maturation is impressive, Omega's has been nothing short of miraculous. All right... Owen is a professional behaviorist; he knows there's no such thing as miracles, only hard work and dedication. Only this time it wasn't his. It was Blue's time, effort, and uncharacteristic affection that turned a furious, hateful killing machine into something that could be now what he might have been then, before InGen had their way. Omega lives in the house now. He eats when they do. He joins the family in their gatherings, as long as Blue is with him, and although his temper is still zero to 60 when roused, these days it's much harder to set him off than it used to be, even if that wouldn't be saying much. He prefers his mate and solitude over anything else, but his violently aggressive tendencies have been all but curbed for the sake of keeping Blue happy.

For obvious reasons, Owen has kept a close eye on them both from day one, and even from the very beginning Omega has treated Blue like the center of the universe. Owen himself has salvaged his share of abused, wild animals -- it's literally part of the job -- but he knows without question that no one could have done this but her. And her success is absolutely indisputable.

Case in point: today, Omega's dislike for interacting with unfamiliar people had outweighed his desire to be with Blue as often as possible, and instead of throwing a tantrum he simply hadn't gone with her down the mountain.

For Barry, it was supplies; Echo wanted clothes; Blue was only interested in procuring necessary parts for her nearly-restored 1979 Pontiac Phoenix Firebird, a task built upon very specific requirements and one which she would never entrust to any of her siblings. The day is very nice for a sojourn into the city, considering the length of the drive: blue skies and a mild breeze, not quite so far into spring that the air is anything more than comfortably warm. Psi is helping Delta collect chili peppers and the new experimental plums. Chi fell asleep in the grass up the hill. Charlie is giving Owen a hand with replacing some worn poles along the stone steps leading down to the boys' den, when they hear the familiar sound of the Jeep rolling up the long hill that serves as their driveway.

Only, it sounds like it's coming up fast.

Owen and Charlie look at each other, and immediately drop what they're doing to meet the car just as Barry rolls up, screeching to a stop and diving out of the driver's side to rush around to the passenger door. He looks frantic. And he's helping Echo out of the car. She looks like she's about to pitch right off her feet.

"Owen!" Barry calls out urgently, eyes widening immediately as Owen rushes to them. "Owen!" He has to wrap an arm around Echo's back to keep her standing. And then, to Owen's surprise and dread, Barry yells again. "Omega!"

Owen doesn't actually know where Omega has been this whole time. But suddenly he's there next to him, clearly as alarmed at being summoned as Owen was to hear it, and Owen can practically feel the tension in the male raptor's body triple because they both realized the same thing: that Blue is not with them.

"They took her," Barry says, breathless, and the bottom falls out of Owen's stomach.

Echo tries to rouse herself, flopping a little, mumbling in groggy frustration as she tries to shake off whatever is wrong with her and help explain. But Barry keeps his hold on her and barrels right through it.

"It was InGen. They had an entire strike force, Owen, the streets are chaos now. They used non-lethals. Tranquilizers. Echo took a direct hit, but they left her behind. All of them were focused on Blue." He looks at both of them, Owen and then Omega, panicked and desperate. "They came for her."

The weather was gorgeous a minute ago. Now the entire world is ice. Owen's heart has stopped, his breath is gone. Delta and the boys come running up, but he barely notices them. Beside him is Omega, frozen; then suddenly the raptor whirls to him, eyes wide, and the fury -- the fear -- in them is apocalyptic.

Omega doesn't say a word, but Owen immediately finds his voice. "Go get her."

The male raptor is gone like a bolt of lightning. Owen turns and strides quickly to a hidden cache beneath the porch. He pulls out two assault rifles and a hell of a lot of ammo as Charlie shrieks behind him, "Why aren't we going with him?!"

"Because we're going to follow him." Owen tosses a rifle to Barry, and gestures sharply for everyone to get into the car, including the still-dizzy Echo. "After Isla Nublar, Omega found us in less than a week on nothing but Blue's scent and pure instinct. This time he knows where he's going. We'd only slow him down." The motor is still running. Almost before every door is shut, Owen jerks the Jeep into gear. His last words are almost a growl to himself. "With any luck, all we'll have to do is clean up."

The Jeep screeches in reverse, turns, and roars off down the mountain.

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That shudder instinctively tightens his arms around her, darkening the look on his face. In a way, doing this to Blue -- this trembling, lingering fear, a horror she can't shake -- is worse than simply hurting her. They are strong, resilient; it takes a lot to injure them enough to stop them. But Blue can't just walk this off. And Omega can't take pain away from her, no matter how much he wants to.

"Yes," he answers her, pleased to be able to assure her of that much, at least. It would be impossible to keep that cruel satisfaction out of his voice, so he doesn't try. "I wanted to keep him alive to torture. Before I knew how badly you were hurt."

Omega nuzzles the side of Blue's head. "Your Alpha finished him off."

Edited 2017-05-28 15:55 (UTC)

Oh, thank God. Blue melted a little at hearing that wonderful affirmation, although a moue of puzzlement flickered across her brow when he said that Owen actually killed Hoskins. A myriad of tumbled questions flooded her mind, but she resolutely pushed them aside and let herself bask in the knowledge that he was dead and could never hurt her--or anyone, God--ever again.

But knowing that didn't make bearing the scars left behind any easier, unfortunately. Blue still shivered, unable to block out the hated visage behind her eyes, letting Omega's scent and proximity slowly flood her senses, an effective deterrent, at least.

Her hands released their clutch and arms wound tight around his waist, staying as close against his wonderful warm strength as possible. Her shivering hadn't noticeably abated, and after a moment or so, Blue's shoulders suddenly hitched, and quiet, almost soundless sobs began to shake her thin frame, cracks in the dam of a week's worth of intentional hell.

InGen can keep their chains and their electric shocks and their MORO-709 -- this is the worst torture he's ever endured, listening to the quiet sound of his mate's tears without being able to protect her from them. Blue has never needed his protection, regardless of whether she had it (and she always would), but now he's all but useless. If holding her is the best he can do, he won't let go until she shoves him away.

Omega's embrace envelops her, arms around her shoulders and her waist, pulling her as close as he can. His head stays close to hers, nearly burying his face in her hair to bring the shield around her closed. His fingers graze her shoulders, the faintest touch back and forth that he can offer without loosening his hold in the slightest.

Food and drink and sponge baths are forgotten. They were never that important to begin with, compared to this.

Blue rarely cried. Tears had escaped three, perhaps four times in her entire life. Never when she endured physical pain, such as a broken arm or sprained ankle; those weren't really hurts. Just speed bumps in life's road, or some such.

The first time she recalled her guard falling enough for tears to escape was when she'd finally acknowledged Owen's authority and accepted him--however grudgingly--as her and the pack's Alpha. She'd not an hour before dug her talons into his chest, trying to rip out his heart, but he'd stopped her--even though it hadn't been easy for him to sit there while an eight year old girl with hard animal eyes tried to sink her fingernails into his flesh--but the chastisement she'd been fully expecting had never come.

He'd simply pressed a cloth over the seeping wounds with one hand and reached out for her with the other. Her sisters had been huddled back against the playroom wall, scared and unsure, but Blue had stood her ground, furious that she'd been thwarted, but taken completely off guard by the peace offering. And, with his gaze still firmly focused on her, she'd felt it, for the first time.

Submission.

Blue had tentatively, so very hesitantly, reached out her blood-stained hand and put in his, and that had been it. Her tears had spilled over when Owen quietly pulled her into his arms and held her close, promising that from that day on, she would never again be alone. Or unprotected. The other girls had immediately followed suit, crowding around their new Alpha--their father--and huddled near, but it had been Blue who'd silently sobbed into Owen's bloody shirt.

The same as she did into Omega's, some eight years later.

But these were not tears of submission, an emotional relief so vast it couldn't be contained and had to spill over her cheeks. No, now she wept because she had been broken, rendered helpless, forced to give her subjection to those who were not worthy, and the memory of that horror lingered thick and wicked behind her tightly closed eyes.

That her mate and her family had come for her meant...so much; that Omega had moved hell and earth to bring her from that nightmare--Blue had no words for that. Perhaps there were none. She was safe, she knew that; nothing would ever harm her again, as long as they were near. But not even Dr. Gwen could fix her inside. Inside simply felt...hollow. Cavernous. Empty.

But Blue did have a small idea of how to fill it, just perhaps a little. She finally lifted her tear-wet face from Omega's chest and rested her lips against his, breath trembling between them. She licked their lips clean of salty tears and whispered shakily, a bare breath, "...I love you."

Omega has no Alpha. If there was a time in his life when he thought a human could ever hold true authority over him, it faded swiftly into a memory that he can no longer recall. The humans around him always punished -- were swift to do so -- and no one ever hesitated to put him back in the place he refused to accept. He never once felt true loyalty to anyone.

Until he met his mate.

She is not his Alpha, and he is not her Beta; nor is the reverse true. They have something else between them. It might be the most human thing about him, the way he feels for Blue: although there is a primal instinct that binds him to each other, a wild ferocity that would rise in him to her aid without a second thought, but neither of them are submissive to each other because they don't have to be. They're equals. And Omega never imagined that there existed such a thing.

Her rage and sorrow resonates through him, but there is nothing left to kill or maim, and the facility on Isla Sorna is a smoking ruin. Anything that he can do for her now, he learned from her when she did it for him, and God help him but that's what he's trying to do. Omega nuzzles her when she lifts her head, his hands flexing protectively against her body, and when she whispers those words to him -- words they don't say, that don't need to be said -- it makes his heart pound around the invisible knife in his chest.

In the jungle, she never heard him. But it's as true as it's ever been. Omega lets her mouth shape the words against his own, silent for a lingering moment. "I love you," he echoes her then, softly, for her ears only and no one else.

Blue inhaled another shaky breath. They were going to be all right; she was going to be all right. She kissed her mate softly, more than grateful for his unquestioning devotion. Her arms tightened a little bit more around his waist and she held him close, the steady beat of his strong heart loud in her ears.

They were together. They would survive.

Omega's warmth helped to calm her shivering, the tremors slowly dissipating, and Blue eventually pulled away slightly, sniffling and rubbing her eyes with one thin fist. She fiddled with her mate's shirt, more to touch him than to actually care about the fabric.

"...I guess we should probably wash me, huh?" It was a pointed effort in moving on, but Blue somehow feared that "normal" would be a long time in returning.

Omega is reluctant to let her draw away, but whether she wants space or his closeness, he'll give her either one. She does have his devotion. He had none to give until she came along, and now all of it belongs to her. Blue will recover from this; she's too strong not to. Stubborn. And she's smarter than him. She can do this, in whatever way feels best to her.

Yes, they'll get her cleaned up, and hopefully that will make her feel a little bit better too. Omega reaches up to touch her face, no less beautiful for being red-eyed and tear-stained, and he strokes her cheek and tucks her hair back behind one ear. He just loves the hell out of her. No matter what comes next, she needs to be sure of that.

"I've got you," he says, still quiet. The washcloths are waiting nearby, and he realizes that he left the water running in the sink. Convenient, anyway. He wets a cloth and squeezes soap into it until the suds form, and starts with his mate's arm to carefully rub her down.

Blue kept still and let Omega wash her, extending one arm then the other. She longed to wash her hair, but maybe the next time, once she was able to actually stand on her own in the shower. The warm water and soap were wonderful, erasing a week's worth of dirt and yuck from her skin.

She even managed to ease off of the counter and stand on the rug, holding tightly to her mate as not to topple over on her nose, so that he might bathe the rest of her, and God, she felt so much better. A soft purr began in the back of her throat, testament to his tender care, and she kissed him softly when he moved again to rinse her off.

Blue did shiver when the washcloth moved over her abdomen, almost shying away from the small neat stitches below her navel. Nor did she let him touch her above her knees, irrationally afraid and averting her face to Omega's questioning gaze.

Omega is slow and careful, but Blue doesn't resist, and he's glad to see that his mate even seems to be enjoying the process. That is, until he reaches her belly, and passes a little closer to the incision; he can feel her tense, and throws a glance at her face. Pain, or maybe anxiety? It's difficult to tell, and Blue hides it quickly.

But there's no hiding the way she immediately recoils when he leans down to wash her thighs, rejecting the washcloth before it even touches her skin. She doesn't say anything, even when Omega looks at her. He wants badly to ask, but... senses that he shouldn't. He's already suspected that neither one of them would like the answer.

Still, he doesn't miss an inch that she allows him, drawing soapy water across her skin and rinsing it clean, toweling her off with one of the large ones folded on the counter. And finally, he lifts his eyes to her face and offers her the soapy washcloth.

"Do you want to? I'll keep you steady."

At first, she didn't even want to take the cloth herself, but logic and the overwhelming desire to be clean all over decided her. She took the soapy cloth and gingerly eased it over her skin, fingernails tightening on Omega's arm.

It took her several minutes, but at least she managed it, trying not to shudder by clenching her teeth as ghost touches followed her hands in nightmarish recollection. She finally threw the washcloth in the sink and, despite Omega's steadying solidarity, recoiled against the bathroom door, slamming into it and biting her lips bloody in effort not to shriek in inchoate terror.

Omega supervises her efforts, concerned but doing nothing to steer her or prompt her to go any faster than she wants. But the way she touches her own skin baffles him with its revulsion; he has never found a single part of her that he wouldn't worship with his hands and mouth, given the choice.

But Blue can barely take it. And suddenly she's hurling the washcloth away from her like a poisonous snake and all but hurling herself into the door, and Omega bolts forward in alarm.

"Blue!" He catches her hand, clasps it tightly in his own and pulls it against his chest, determined and grounding, and he presses a hand to her shoulder that slides to cup her neck. Her heart is pounding. "You're all right. You're done. That's enough."

The strike she delivered was instantaneous. Blue's free hand lashed forward, talons curved to rake skin and tear flesh. She was so unsteady on her feet that she couldn't stand up on her own--she used the door to shove back against and, this time, managed to voice the horror in her head in a wild screech, drawing back again to deliver another deadly strike.

But her momentum was still too much for her overused and undernourished body to handle, thus she slumped, sobbing again, this time in pain for her throbbing muscles, still protesting such rough abuse. Huddled in the floor between the door and the wall, Blue hugged her arms and shook in uncontrollable spasms, still feeling the shackles weighting down her wrists and ankles.

She remembered the sluggishness of the tranquilizers, how dazed she'd been during their procedures, how utterly helpless she'd been to murder them all. She opened her mouth again and screamed at the floor, clenching sharp talons in her long hair, pulling at it to alleviate some of the pain inside.

He's too close to fall back in time, and her claws catch him across the collar, red-hot. Omega staggers, snarling in pain before he can catch it -- but Blue is already collapsing, and any pain after that is thrown completely aside.

Omega sinks quickly to her side, but this time he doesn't touch, once again hovering in helpless frustration because he can't do anything at all. He keeps a hand on the door, another within reach of Blue, without contact, his eyes wide and sharp with a new surge of fear. She's going to hurt herself -- what's happening to her?

Footsteps thunder outside the door, and Omega feels someone catch the doorknob, smells the fear in Owen and Dr. Gwen on the other side. "Blue!" Owen calls, but before he can get the door open Omega roughly shoves it back.

"Stop," he growls in fierce warning. No matter how much it stings to admit it, if Blue is least likely to attack anyone, it's Owen, but right now Blue isn't thinking straight. She might claw one of her humans open without even realizing it, and that is a horror she would never come back from. "Just wait."

She had to breathe or she'd hyperventilate. Blue gulped air, trying to calm down, to soothe the irrational beast which had leapt up in defense. She realized she was pulling her own hair and paused, then shook the strands from her fingers and stared at her own talons as if she'd never seen them before.

Dimly, she heard commotion outside the closed door, familiar voices calling, but nothing made sense. She scented blood and suddenly realized she was starving. The raptor in her purred, it anything but an affectionate sound. Food was close, all she had to do was reach for it.

Coherency flipped a switch just then, and Blue whimpered in remembered pain, hugging herself again and waiting for the cramps to subside. Her empty stomach churned; she was so hungry but even the thought of food was nauseating. She dared look through her hair and spied a black shadow: Omega. Her mate was on his knees beside her, focused on keeping the door closed.

Before Blue could even begin to think about it, she moved--slowly, painfully, but unerringly--and putting her mouth to his flesh, began to steadily lap at the scratches she'd just inflicted, cleaning away the blood dripping down his skin.

Every piece of him is tense, especially the hand on the door, keeping the humans outside from trying to burst in and potentially make things a hell of a lot worse. Blood oozes from the fresh slices his mate opened up against his collarbone, the fabric of his shirt torn enough to get the whole thing thrown out. Omega doesn't notice. The sounds Blue is making might drive him to a frenzy of his own if he doesn't figure out what the hell is happening to her and how to make it stop.

At the dangerous purr, he instantly goes still; claws flex instinctively beside her, because no matter how intent he is upon not hurting his mate, he isn't going to let her try to kill him, either. But she wouldn't do that -- and doesn't, finally losing the savage tension across her back, sinking into a miserable ball that has no business being a relief.

Is she coming out of it? Omega wants to risk a touch, but holds himself in place, because the last one ended very badly. (In his wildest moments, would he have accepted any comfort at all?) Yet almost before he really has to decide, his mate turns to him, rising a little until her mouth -- he lets out a swift, sharp hiss when the first touch of her tongue reignites pain he'd pushed aside. But only a moment later the sound becomes a slow exhale, those gentle licks working the strange magic that soothes away all the hurt, and Omega remembers the very first night he spent with her. She'd cleaned away the blood from wounds she'd left then, too.

Cautiously, Omega brushes his fingers against her arm, testing the waters, fully prepared to dive backward if she tries to rip him open. When she doesn't lash out, his hand slips behind her shoulder, and then very slowly he curls a loose arm across her back. He doesn't pull her in, or tighten his grip, but he watches her as she draws her tongue across his skin.

This...would suffice for now. It wasn't meat, not strictly food in the traditional sense but it was a welcome second. Blue lapped at the gashes in Omega's flesh, drinking his blood with unequivocal deliberateness. She took scarce note of his arm coming back around her; she simply pressed closer so that she might better reach every inch of those red-stained gashes.

Another purr began, this one considerably more welcoming than the last. When her lips were scarlet and wet with blood, Blue briefly lifted her head, only to continue licking Omega's skin, tasting salt and wild and mate. She licked a bloody trail to his lips, coaxing them apart with her tongue to taste him more fully. Blue whimpered softly, but there was veiled intent in the talons that gripped at his torso.

Omega doesn't relax while his mate's mouth is on him -- not by a long shot -- but he stays still, not trying to coax Blue this way or that, certainly demanding nothing else beyond this. He can feel his own heartbeat throb in the open skin every time her tongue passes over it, a muted sensation with the chill of something that threatens to hurt but doesn't quite. Blue has moods where she she demands the right to pierce his flesh and draw blood, asserting her ownership over him as if it was ever in contest. But this isn't like that. Something is still wrong.

He tilts his head to touch her hair, only to find her lifting her head for a kiss with lips parted, the taste of his blood strong on her tongue. Omega may never be strong enough to draw back from her kiss on his own, and he answers it immediately, deepening it when she does, undeterred by the ominous pressure of her claws.

But he catches her hands with his own, just in case.

Blue pulled away at last, licking her lips and sighing very softly. She blinked up at Omega with glassy, glazed eyes, then dropped her forehead to his shoulder, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. But a stifled sob still traitorously escaped, though it seemed that all the violence had evaporated.

At least for now.

"...'m tired," she mumbled against him, slowly going limp in his arms. Curling in on herself again, she shuddered once, twice, then softly hissed with the return of the muscle pain, making her whimper with the sharp spasms.

She could hear Owen outside, and Dr. Gwen was undoubtedly still with him, waiting for them to come back out, but all Blue really wanted to do right now was go back to sleep. And pray that the nausea medicine kicked in, and soon.

He looks at her when she draws away, concern etched near permanently into his features. But he still says nothing, letting her process however she was doing so, and when she sinks against him his arms are ready to hold her.

Her humans are waiting outside the door; he can smell their tension and worry, but apparently they know better than to call again. Good. Blue is in a fragile state and doesn't need the distractions. The episode has come and gone and now his mate needs to rest again, before she causes herself more pain through sheer exertion.

"Yeah," he murmurs in response. "Let's get you to bed."

She doesn't have to like it; she's going anyway. But Omega is only going to lift her into his arms again if the touch won't break her. One way or the other, he's going to get her someplace she can sleep.

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Isla Sorna

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