FIC: Running with the Pack (Jurassic World, Lady!Grady/Claire Dearing, PG-13)
TITLE: Running with the Pack
RATING: PG-13
FANDOM: Jurassic World
PAIRING: Lady!Grady/Claire Dearing
SUMMARY: Gwen Grady is about the same as any other girl who trains velociraptors and dates anal retentive theme park managers. You know.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: A genderbent Owen Grady for innerbrat’s 2015 yuletide. 95% of this story takes place before the events of the movie. Thanks so much to Carla for the beta.
The under forest was thick, and it rustled as the animals ran past. Four of them ran on fleet feet armed with talons; the fifth ran in old sneakers, women’s size seven. The velociraptors ran as a pack, and at their center, keeping pace, a woman. Tall, athletic, blue eyes and straight brown hair tied back in a ponytail. The woman was not running out of fear; she was with the pack, chasing something.
***
Gwen Grady scrubbed the engine oil out from under her fingernails. She tightened her ponytail and, with the pads of her fingers, patted dry the sweat beading at her hairline. The idea that she probably should have showered, or maybe ironed her shirt, came to her briefly, then flitted away.
Grady walked the path through the steamy, verdant jungle en route to the Ivory Tower. The corporate apartments had another name, something upper crusty and suburban, but she could never remember it. Anyway, Ivory Tower was descriptive and apt, and not just because of the color of the building’s facade.
Grady walked past the petting zoo, where keepers were locking up for the night, the maiasaurs groaning like cattle, past the pachycephalosauruses, who bucked and neighed like young deer. Sweat dripped between Grady’s shoulders, sticking her shirt to her.
The foliage began to thin, and by the time the Ivory Tower came into view, there were proper roads with InGen jeeps roaring past.
Grady wiped her face with the back of her hand and entered the uber air conditioned lobby of the Ivory Tower. She checked her watch; fuck, she was half past late.
It was the first thing Claire said once Grady finally got to her door.
“You’re late.” Claire looked beautiful in her over starched way, bob razor straight and dress perfectly pressed, perfectly accentuating her narrow waist. “Twenty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?”
Grady leaned against the doorframe. “I’m proud of you for not giving me the time in seconds, Claire.”
Claire’s lipsticked mouth pursed. “And now sarcasm? You’re off to a great start.” She eyed Grady’s button down, short chino shorts, and muddy boots. “And I see you dressed up for me.”
“We aim to please, ma’am,” Grady said, unable to keep a leash on her grin. She extended a crooked arm. “Shall we?”
Claire tried to look put upon, but couldn’t manage it, the sliver of a smile peeking through. She took Grady’s arm, her perfectly manicured fingers curling around Grady’s bicep.
***
Up on the platform above the raptor habitat, Grady held the clicker in the palm of her right hand. Her left hand was at the pack on her hip, ready to dispense freeze dried beef liver. A few feet below her, the pack was watching Grady’s left hand-they knew where the treats came from. They were not dumb animals. You could tell that by looking at them, the way they moved, the spark of intelligence in their keen eyes. Grady had been working with them for eight years-dolphins for the Navy before that, and before that Malinois for the police-and she appreciated them more every day.
Echo, head cocked, started inching forward, closer to the treats, even though they were supposed to be on a stay. Grady gave her a look, and snapped, “Hey!”
Echo took a step back, back in line. Grady smiled, clicked the clicker, and tossed down a piece of beef liver. Echo snapped it up with her jaws, jaws that could crush bone as easily as Grady could devour an apple.
Grady looked over at the control booth, nodded to the paddock supervisor. He pulled the lever opening the feed shoot. Below Grady, the raptors began to bob in place; they could smell their prey, hear it, even before the poor pig came rocketing out of the shoot.
Grady held up the hand with the clicker.
“Wait,” she said. “Wait.”
The raptors bobbed, but they stayed in place. Grady clicked the clicker. The pig ran past, the under forest rustling.
“Okay,” Grady said, and the pack was off.
***
Claire ran her index finger around the rim of her wine glass. It gave a slight hum.
“So,” she said, “what did you learn in the Navy?”
“Pacifism.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”
Grady shrugged. She signaled for another shot. The bartender sloshed a little, distracted by some rowdy tech guys at the end of the bar; Grady’s hand slipped over the glass, and when she finished her shot she sucked tequila off her fingers.
“The Navy, you know, it’s a job. I’m not one of those ride or die squids.”
Claire blinked. “I don’t understand half of the words you just said.”
Grady grinned. “I mean, I took the job with the Navy because I was interested in the particular challenges offered. You understand, right? I mean, it’s not like you were a ten-year-old little girl thinking, ‘Maybe I’ll run Jurassic World one day.’”
“Oh, no,” Claire said. “I actually wanted to run NASA.”
“As a ten-year-old,” Grady deadpanned.
“Sure,” Claire said, and then she smiled in a way that made Grady forget all the clever barbs she was prepared to hurl back.
“Huh,” Grady said, and smiled.
***
Grady and Barry sat on the deck of Grady’s place, their feet hanging off over the water. Grady poured them each a shot of tequila; she ran her tongue over the place between her thumb and forefinger, and sprinkled it with salt.
Barry raised his glass. “Chin chin!”
Salt, tequila, lime. Grady flinched, her mouth dry with limes, the salt coating her lips and the tequila burning down her throat.
“I had a dream last night,” Grady said, looking over the water, “that I was running with the pack.”
“The raptors?”
“Yeah. We were running through the jungle.”
Grady had woken in a sweat that morning, her bed sheets twisted around her, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it was difficult to breathe. She could feel the thrill of the hunt coursing through her veins like a drug. In her dream, she had shot through the under forest in the dark night. The muscles in her legs burned, but she was breathing easy. At first, she saw nothing-tunnel vision-but then through touch she became aware that the pack was around her. Their cool, scaly flesh brushed against her soft, human skin.
“After what?” Barry asked. “What were you chasing?”
Grady sucked the salt off her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
***
“You have had too much to drink,” Claire said as they left the bar. “What kind of lady-”
Grady snorted. “Lady.”
“Fine,” Claire said, “what kind of woman gets drunk on a Wednesday evening?”
“What kind of woman lies about her hair color?” Grady countered.
Claire flushed violently. “That is-I’m not-you are so-”
Grady slid one hand across the back of Claire’s neck, the other around her waist. She pulled Claire close and kissed her hard.
Claire blinked a few times once they’d parted, her mouth open, her eyes glassy.
“I,” she said, “that is-you incorrigible, vile, dirty-I can’t believe you-you cad-”
“Your place or mine?” Grady said.
***
Today was a special day. The best day.
Normally you had to wear gloves in the lab, but this was a special day. The lab assistant showed Grady to her babies, then left her alone.
It was hatching day. Grady had been working at Jurassic World for six months, getting the paddock ready for the new arrivals. Now, she stood over the incubator watching the baby raptors struggle out of their shells, their luminous eyes peeking out from the eggshell, their little forefeet-ending in long, wicked-looking talons-clawing to break free.
The waiting was terrible, but it was important not to help them. Finally, one of the raptors broke free, pushing eggshell off its head, stretching its limbs for the first time. The tail curled and uncurled, and Grady reached out and gently traced her finger down the baby’s spine. The nestling made a small cooing noise, and arched its back, eyes squeezing closed.
“Hi,” Grady said. “Happy birthday.”
***
Grady, armed with the clicker and her pack of beef liver, stood in the raptor paddock with her back to the sun. The fledglings, each now a foot tall, formed a half circle in front of her.
“Good stay, ladies!” Grady clicked the clicker. “All right, and we’re off! Come! Come!”
Grady ran backwards, and the fledglings obediently trotted after her. Their top speeds was now up to 15 miles an hour, but they paced themselves to how fast Grady was running. Grady clicked the clicker. She paused for a moment, the hand with the clicker held out in front of her-whoa. The raptors stopped, bouncing on their feet, talons clicking against the ground.
“Blue!” Grady said, and threw the raptor a piece of beef liver. “Charlie! Delta! Echo!”
The raptors choked down their beef liver, and bounced, their expectant faces looking up at Grady.
***
Delta was in her muzzle. Barry dabbed at the wound on her face-Charlie had taken a talon to Delta’s face in a squabble. Grady had been there when it had happened, but you couldn’t intervene in power struggles; it would disrupt the order of the pack. What she could do was see to Delta’s wounds. Infection could kill.
“How’s my girl?” Grady asked, patting Delta’s neck.
Barry showed Grady the cloth he was using; it was stained rust-colored. Grady flinched, and gave Delta another pat. Barry brought out a fresh cloth, smeared some antibacterial cream on it, and pressed it to Delta’s wound.
“I had that dream again,” Grady said.
Barry looked at her. “The one where you’re running with the pack?”
Grady ran her palm over Delta’s spine. She watched Delta’s pupil dilate.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Figure out what you’ve been chasing?”
Grady shook her head. “Nope.”
***
The air swarmed with pterodactyls. Zach and Gray cowered against the wall of one of the plaza’s restaurants; Grady shot her rifle at the animals snapping at them, at the animals trying to carry off Claire.
Suddenly, Grady was forced to the ground, the gun knocked out of reach. Grady looked up into the gaping, tooth-filled maw of the pterodactyl. Its claws embedded in Grady’s arms; its mouth was mere inches away from Grady’s, so close she could smell its stale breath, like carrion.
Grady pushed against the beast with all her might, staring at the thing’s teeth, getting closer every second. Saliva burned on Grady’s face. She could feel the muscles in her arms begin to twitch with the strain of fighting against the animal.
Suddenly, the pterodactyl jerked away. Grady heard one pop, then another, and another. The pterodactyl went limp, and Grady pushed it off her, looked up and found Claire standing over her, Grady’s gun in her hands.
Grady came to her feet. Claire dropped the gun; Grady took Claire in her arms, and kissed her hard. At first, Claire went rigid-surprise-but then she melted into Grady’s arms and kissed her back. Grady’s heart felt too big for her chest, and for the first time, she thought she might know what she’d spent all those nights chasing.