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enchanted--realm · 1 year

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But It’s An Animal Hospital

Prompt by @jurassicsickfics 1: Intense Isla Nublar/Sorna heat causing nausea. Thanks for keeping the fandom alive!

Tags: Clawen, Sickfic, One Shot, Jurassic world, Pre-Jurassic World (2015), Claire Dearing/Owen Grady, Owen Grady takes care of Claire Dearing, heat exhaustion, pov descriptions of feeling sick

Summary: Claire suffers from mild heat exhaustion and Owen takes care of her, cuteness ensues. Clawen one shot sickfic.

Content warning, pov descriptions of feeling sick.

Notes: Personally, I'm not a big fan of reading about stomach upset and think it's really gross, so the descriptions of nausea are pretty mild. No one actually ends up v*miting. So, sorry if that's your thing?? To each their own though.

Happy Jurassic June everyone! Clawenafterdark on twitter, shout out to you!

Also, this is the first Clawen fic I've ever written and I've been obsessing over another fandom lately so this may read a little out of character, I'm not really sure. I tried my best. Thank you so much for reading! < 3

Keep reading under cut

Link to work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47698048

_________

The sun was beating down on Claire all day, and the humidity felt like it was trying to choke her. It was the hottest day of the year yet, and of course today was the day that Claire's schedule had her running all over the park.

Her usual morning meetings had been replaced by an investors tour which she had been giving around the outdoor paddock of one of their newest attractions. She had answered question after question in the ninety degree heat, trying to look composed while brushing sweat off her brow, and it wasn't even noon then.

She'd known she'd be outside for the majority of the day, and so she had dressed accordingly in her loosest and lightest business attire, but given it was only morning when she started to tire from the heat, she knew she had a brutal day ahead of her.

After the investors tour, which had unfortunately gone overtime, Claire had driven across the park to see about new developments for one of the resorts. Another outdoor meeting. Her car had felt like an oven on the way there with the air conditioning still not working since she kept forgetting to call the auto shop. She had to have all the windows down just so she could breathe. Of course by that time her water had gone warm and did nothing to cool her down.

When she had parked at the resort, she ripped open an instant cooling pack. Over the years of living on the island, she learned to keep them on hand for hot days like this. She hardly had the time to use it though if she wanted to get to her meeting on time, so she had tossed it in the glove compartment after a minute of use.

By the time Claire had gotten back to her car from meeting with the designers she was suffering from a small headache. The meeting had gone well enough, but it was a complete waste of time. All Claire did was nod her head in approval basically. She hated meetings like those. There were a million other things she could have been doing. She supposed the only reason she had been there was to instill fear into the staff and remind them of the standards they had to live up to. They never detoured inside the resort like she had hoped, so that was another sweltering, wasted 40 minutes of her life.

She had looked forward to driving back to her office to enjoy lunch indoors when she had gotten a phone call from one of the directors. There was a major brief happening later that day with Jurassic World's top veterinarian, and one of the directors working on the brief called her to come early, as they were dealing with an emergency that needed her input. She had stayed on the phone with the team as she drove over, and they queued her in on the scenario. She was basically approving the matter over the phone but she still needed to be there in person to see the situation through. By the time their little emergency had been taken care of, it was almost two hours past the matter, and it was now time for the regular scheduled briefing to occur.

This is how Claire found herself now at the main outdoor paddock, standing in the hot sun once again, not having had any break from the heat for the entire five hours she had been at work.

She was hungry, she had a headache, and God it was hot out.

She squinted as she looked around the paddock where herself, the vice president, top directors, the entire veterinarian department, head staff animal handlers, and a few select fellows, were meeting. Zara spotted her near the front of the group and came to stand by her side. Claire smiled at her in greeting and listened as Zara talked about her morning. Claire couldn't remember a word of what her assistant was saying, though. Claire kept zoning in and out of the conversation, tired from the morning she had. Though Claire lived on the island for about a decade now and was used to the Central American heat, she normally spent her work day indoors and wasn't used to spending long hours in the sun like this. It didn't help that she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Her stomach grumbled a little then, and she tried to ignore the empty concave of her stomach and instead focus on the head veterinarian as he called the briefing to a start.

The brief began outdoors of the paddock, the sun still high in the sky and the heat peaking at the hottest hours of the day. It must have been well over a hundred degrees by now and the humidity was still suffocating. They thankfully moved indoors as they walked through the animal hospital, though the air was stuffy and warm from all the bodies in the room. That's when she noticed Owen Grady in their small crowd. He was standing near a few people she recognized to be animal handlers. He walked with that confident swagger he usually wears, and Claire felt her stomach somersault at the sight of him. She inwardly groaned as the butterflies in her stomach and added flush in her cheeks did nothing to help her feel any better in handling the heat. Her bangs were starting to stick to her forehead. She hoped she didn't look too much of a mess. Immediately, she scolded herself in her thoughts for being worried about what she looked like in front of Owen Grady of all people. She was not going to give that meat-head, scoundrel of a man anymore attention, no matter how handsome he was, nor how his voice dipped when he talked to her. Her stomach flipped again and she cursed in her thoughts. She most certainly did not give any attention to his backside as he followed the group out of the room, most certainly not. She took a deep breath as she followed everyone outside to another paddock. Being one of the last few people to exit the hospital, she ended up standing in the unwanted spot directly in the sun, the rays beating atop her head, most likely making her skin burn as well. She couldn't remember the last time she reapplied her sunblock.

Squinting against the sun, she tried to focus on what the veterinarian was saying but just had to pretend by this point. Gosh, the heat was so strong she was starting to feel lightheaded, she thought. Good thing Zara was taking notes. Claire took another deep breath, resisting the urge to fan herself and willed her mind to stay awake and focused. The briefing was allotted two hours in her calendar. She already felt like they'd been there for five, so it couldn't last much longer. She told herself she just had to keep it together until the meeting was over, and then she could go back to her air conditioned office in peace.

Unconsciously, Claire smacked her lips together, tasting the dryness of her mouth. Her stomach was starting to feel uncomfortably empty, she noticed. If she had some privacy she could let herself falter, she thought, but she couldn't let the staff see her in this state. Sure, Claire was only human like the rest of them, but she didn't want the image of her stumbling away lightheaded living in anyone's mind, especially the staff she commanded. She needed people to respect her.

She swallowed again, her mouth feeling pasty, and then her stomach cramped. She stilled, her breath hitching, until her muscles released and then she took a relieving breath. This could not be happening now, she thought. Perhaps she should find someplace to sit down, but she hesitated at the idea. This briefing was important and she had to be here. Breaking her from her thoughts, she caught some movement in her peripheral vision. Her eyes widened at recognizing Owen Grady standing at her right. She quickly collected her facial expression, hoping he didn't notice her surprise. Was he standing next to her the entire time, she thought? She spared another glimpse his way and tried not to notice the way his hand rested on his hip, or the way his other hand smoothed over his scruff, or how his musky scent drifted over from where he stood. Her cheeks flushed then, and heat swelled through her entire body. A wave of lightheadedness went through her again, and she wasn't sure if she swayed in her footing or if it only felt like she did. She spared a glance at Owen again and he seemed closer to her than before. Did she do that or did he, she wondered. Gosh, her stomach felt awful.

She tested her tongue in her mouth again, detecting a funny taste building up. She had no idea what the head veterinarian was talking about anymore. All she could focus on was the feeling of the sun beating down on her skin, and the beads of sweat trickling down her hairline, making her bangs stick to her forehead. Hot. She felt so hot. She briefly registered Zara's voice and then suddenly a shadow blocked the glaring sun from her eyes. Staring straight ahead, it took her a second to realize Owen Grady stood in her vision. She looked around to see the small crowd dispersing. She hadn't even realized the brief ended.

She heard Owen say her name then, and she turned back to him, finding it difficult to look up into his eyes.

"You okay?" Owen asked. He sounded a little fuzzy in her ears, though she recognized the concern in his voice even if she couldn't see his face.

Another wave of lightheadedness made her delay in response. "Fine," was all she was able to breathe out. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to hold onto his arm to steady herself and started to step towards the animal hospital. Her head instantly felt like it was trying to float away as she walked too quickly. Owen's hand pressed hot to her back, keeping her balanced.

He said something she didn't register and she found it comforting, but at the same time his warm breath was on the skin of her cheek and it made her stomach coil even more than it already was.

She didn't realize he was guiding her inside the animal hospital until the door closed behind them.

"The heat," she managed to breath out as she followed him to where she knew there was a private break room. Owen walked them too fast for her liking, though she knew they were walking slowly anyhow, and she feared she would faint on the way there, tightening her grip on his hand that she was apparently holding. The moment Owen opened the door to the small break room the cold air hit her face and she felt instant relief. She stepped through the door and breathed in the cold like she was gulping down ice water. She stumbled immediately into a chair at the small round table in the center of the room and rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes. One of her hands quickly moved to her stomach when she felt it tighten with another wave of nausea. She couldn't help the small cry that escaped her lips at the feeling.

"Claire." Owen pushed her hair out of her face. His strong voice helped her focus her mind.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," she panted, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt Owen brush her hair once more before leaving her side and heard him rumbling through the cabinets of the kitchenette. Claire continued to breathe in the cool air and felt her head steady to a slightly less floating sensation. It calmed her down a little and her heartbeat started to regulate.

"Drink this." She heard Owen's rough voice and then something thumped onto the table. She blinked her eyes open to half-lidded and saw an opened bottle of water in front of her.

She just stared at it for a moment, not having the strength to move right away. Then she lifted the hand from her stomach and reached for the water, raising her head just enough so she could take a drink. Owen sat to her right, fumbling with whatever else he brought over to the table, she didn't know what. Her stomach churned as she brought the water closer, but she knew she should at least try to drink something. She brought the bottle to her lips and took the smallest sip. When she swallowed she felt another wave of nausea, and she scrunched her face, turning away and setting the bottle back on the table.

"Try to drink some more," he prompted her softly.

"Mm." She shook head, still scrunching her eyes closed. "Nauseous," she explained, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her head on her hand again. She panted lightly as she gazed mindlessly in front of her, her heartbeat picking up again.

She heard Owen move something plastic around. "Here. This will help," he said.

She gasped as an icy cold sensation landed between her shoulder blades and then quickly relaxed, almost groaning at how pleasurable it felt. A shiver ran through her body and she sighed as she relaxed more, leaning her elbows further and sinking into the table. Her head slid in her hand as she tilted to look sideways, meeting Owen's eyes for the first time since being in the room. She just blinked at him as he stared at her, and then she closed her eyes again, too tired to focus on anything.

She relaxed like that for a minute before she felt Owen moving the ice pack up to the back of her neck. She breathed deeply again in relief.

"How are you feeling?" Owen asked softly.

Claire's head was still floating and her stomach a little sick, but she could feel her mind starting to come back to her at least. She sat up the slightest bit, still propping her head up by her chin.

Claire licked her lip before speaking. "A little better," she admitted, her voice slightly hoarse so she cleared it. She blinked at him, finally able to hold her focus on Owen clearly. His gaze was soft and there was a pretty shine in his eyes, she thought. Her stomach somersaulted for non-sick-related reasons, and she had to break eye contact with him in order to steady herself. She couldn't find the strength to lift her head from her hand, so she held the weight of it as she stared at the first aid kit Owen found, seeing the open wrapper of an instant cooling pack, not unlike one of the ones she used earlier today. "Mmm...I'm a little lightheaded. And nauseous still," she informed him. She lifted her free hand to grasp at the ice pack Owen held to her neck, and he argued with her not to bother. She grasped around his fingers anyway, noticing how cool his hand felt in comparison to hers, and told him she wanted the pack at her forehead, in which case he gave way and let her move it to where she wanted.

She held the pack against her head, closing her eyes as she absorbed the cold, glad to have the heat disappearing from the palm of her hand as well. It felt like her mind was waking up more with every passing minute, which she was grateful for. She heard Owen shuffle in his seat, then.

"Did you eat today?" His voice was tender still.

"Just breakfast," she responded honestly, and she heard the creak of the chair as he got up and rummaged around the kitchenet.

Her hands finally started feeling a normal temperature as she moved the ice pack to her left hand and leaned her temple into the pack, reveling in the cold soaking straight into her pulse point. She took in another deep breath and opened her eyes. She couldn't see Owen, just the empty chair he sat in before. She looked to her right using just her eyes, too tired to turn her head, and saw the blurry image of Owen in the corner of her vision, standing over the counter. The refrigerator hummed annoyingly in the background. She couldn't tell what Owen was doing, but she liked that she got to gaze at him, even in this blurry state. His shape came into focus as she followed him with her eyes as he returned to her. He placed a sports drink on the table, along with an opened box of crackers. She followed a drop of condensation with her eyes as it rolled down the length of the bottle when she heard his voice again.

"I know your stomach isn't feeling well, but you should try to get something in your system," he urged mildly, and she turned her gaze to his face.

His hazel eyes stared back at her, waiting. She inhaled as she looked back to the sports drink. She felt like she was coming back to her senses enough. She could try again at holding down a drink, she thought. Lifting her head from her hand for the first time since she came into the room, she let the ice pack slide from her temple down to her neck and held it there until she had to use both her hands to open the drink. She tried to unscrew the cap but it was sealed tight, and she didn't have the grip strength to try harder. Owen took the bottle immediately from her hands and opened it without effort, before placing it back in front of her and mumbling an apology.

"Thanks." Claire suppressed a smile. Gingerly, she lifted the drink to her lips and paused before taking a sip of the artificially bright yellow liquid. The moment the ice-cold drink filled her mouth her mind instantly woke up, her eyes widening as she pursed her lips at the strong sugary, citrus flavor before gulping it down. She blinked a few times and felt herself straighten up a little in her chair.

"There she is!" Owen's voice boomed throughout the small room and almost made her jump in her seat.

She turned towards him and saw the grin on his face that she knew would be there, the smile reaching his eyes and making them twinkle a certain way that she tried desperately not to find adorable.

She sat still for a moment, gauging the cool feeling in her throat and the way the cold liquid settled in her stomach. Her nausea didn't feel any worse, so she chanced another drink. It felt good.

She slouched in her chair again, resting her head on her hand as she held the ice pack behind her ear and looked at Owen. Her head was no longer floating, instead feeling a little heavy now, like a pressure headache had built up from her brain having melted in the sun. She took another drink, feeling the cold liquid settle in her stomach. She finally processed the whole of what happened here, and suddenly, she felt very intimate with Owen Grady. He was still looking at her with a smile in his eyes, and her heartbeat picked back up.

"You're looking better," he stated. "Your color’s gone back to normal."

She felt herself wanting to hide her face at his notice of her color, instead just faltering her gaze before looking back at him.

"Thank you,” she started, “but you didn't have to do this." Claire felt the urge to deflect his attention, hardly getting out the sentence before Owen started protesting.

"I had to make sure you were okay, Claire," he interrupted her, but she spoke on top of him, saying she would have been fine on her own to which his facial expression immediately objected.

"You were p-practically fainting, Claire. I couldn't ignore that. I had to make sure you were alright." He cut himself off then, and she wondered how strong his worry for her was. She thought his face said it enough, with his intense stare and the way he shook his head like he couldn't think of words to say. She noticed how his chest puffed as he breathed deeply and recalled how sharp his voice was just now. She thought she'd go easy on him and just accept his concern.

"Thank you," she gave honestly. She had to admit, it was sweet of him to stay with her and care for her in the first place. It was nice knowing someone cared. Or at least she let herself be hopeful enough or delusional enough, she wasn't sure which, to think he really cared, not just about the safety of a person, because she knew Owen would help anyone who needed it, but that he cared about her.

"I'm okay, now, Owen. Thank you, honest, but you don't have to stay," she regretted saying the words as soon they came out of her mouth, not wanting him to leave and more than that, seeing the way his eyes shifted away from hers. She didn't want him to think she wanted him to leave so she quickly added, "I mean, you're welcome to stay, but...you don't need to. I don’t want to hold you up." She fisted her hand in her lap. She couldn't understand how she could be commanding a boardroom one minute, and then when it came to this man she could hardly look him in the eye. Her stomach flipped and it made her nausea act up a little, a sour taste coming into her mouth. She cleared her throat and took another sip of the sports drink to bring a pleasant taste back.

"You're not holding me up." A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, and she was glad to have said something right. His gaze quickly changed as he looked her over. "I'll leave, though, if you want to be alone," he hesitated and started to rise from his seat, and before she knew it she'd blurted out for him to stay.

Owen immediately froze, his mouth slightly ajar.

"Stay," she said again more clearly, processing her words this time. "I want you to...if you want to," she finished, finding it hard to keep eye contact with him. Her heart beat harder, and she felt the repercussions of it in her pounding headache.

Owen relaxed back into his seat, keeping his gaze locked on Claire.

"I want to," he replied softly. She noticed his eyes doing that twinkling thing again, and she had to look away. She scolded herself internally for her weakness.

"Then it’s settled," she ended, composing her thoughts and shifting the pack against her other temple.

Claire's stomach dropped when she saw a cheeky grin spread across his face.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day Claire Dearing admits she wants me around," he said, leaning into her space with his elbows on the table, and she instantly regretted making him feel comfortable in this situation. She ignored the musky scent that filled her space and rolled her eyes halfheartedly, her head feeling funny when her eyes went too far back.

"Don't make me regret asking you to stay," she warned, turning her head away from him and leaning against her other hand. "Can't imagine what would make me ask you to stay in the first place," she continued despite herself. "Oh, yeah, maybe the delusion from having my brain fried in the sun," she finished her statement by giving him a pointed look before turning back around. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to roll them when she heard him chuckling behind her.

"Yep. You must be feeling better if you're already picking a fight with me," he laughed.

Shifting in her seat, she attempted to kick him under the table.

Owen scoffed. "Ms. Dearing, that is the most unprofessional behavior I've ever witnessed." Owen faked offense.

"Then good thing no one's here to witness," she replied easily without any strength behind the statement. She turned back to face front, eyes blinking before falling inevitably closed, her headache still evident.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take this up with the boss," he continued.

She turned to Owen this time and opened her eyes, half-lidded, and smiled slightly.

"Lucky for me, then, I'm the boss." She held his stare and her smile grew when he cracked a toothy grin. Only then did she twist back front to rest.

There was a moment’s pause between them and then Owen spoke up again.

"Is that still cool enough for you?" he asked.

"Mm, 's fine," she hummed and continued resting. She took another drink from the bottle and they sat in silence for a few minutes, Claire dozing off with her eyes closed and Owen just watching her. She felt the table move under her arms and could tell Owen leaned more into the table top. She heard his soft sigh.

"Do you need anything?" Owen asked gently, his voice so deep and so low and so close to her that it did things to her insides.

"Mm, no," Claire hummed in response, blinking her eyes a few times before giving back into her fatigue. "Thank you."

Owen's "OK" in response was so quiet she almost didn't hear it.

She let herself fall back into their comfortable silence, content to relax in his presence.

A couple of minutes had passed when Claire suddenly felt a tickle near her bangs. Her eyelids flinched at the sensation but she never opened them. She figured that was Owen touching her hair. She didn't mind exactly and allowed him to move the invisible strand of hair from her face, sighing lightly at his delicate touch. She wasn't sure what to make of the action or the fact that she let it happen, but it felt nice all the same.

He didn't touch her again after that and sat there with her silently for the next few minutes. After some time, Claire finally started to feel more like herself, her stomach mostly settled, fatigue wearing off, and headache greatly lessened.

She blinked her eyes open, taking a moment to adjust to the light of the room. Lifting her head from her hands, she turned to see Owen sitting up straight.

She supposed she should feel a little embarrassed right now about the whole situation but she didn't.

"You feeling better?" He looked her up and down once.

"Much better, yes." She nodded lightly and slowly made to stand up out of her seat. Owen followed suit and stood tall in front of her.

She tilted her head slightly to meet his eyes. She liked being able to actually look up at his face when she spoke this time.

"I should be getting back to my office," she noted regrettably, and Owen nodded in response.

"Do you need me to drive you back?" he offered, but she assured him she would be fine driving herself.

She didn't want to leave just yet, so she kept talking. "I had been outside all day," she explained, and he looked into her eyes and waited for her to continue. "My meetings had all taken place outside, and then something unexpected came up which distracted me from lunch. Of course all this happened on the day it decided to be over 100 degrees," she finished, looking up at him and he nodded still. She couldn't look away from his stare. His hazel eyes looked brighter than she remembered, maybe from all the sun they've been getting this week.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Owen finally spoke, his voice coming out tight, and suddenly she felt their close proximity, unsure of who even closed the gap between them.

Claire cleared her throat and broke eye contact first, taking a step back. "Well, thank you, Owen." She couldn't possibly call him Mr. Grady like she usually did, not after the way he looked after her just now. She hoped the look in her eye conveyed how much she appreciated his care.

"You're welcome, Claire," he replied softly, and she met his eyes once more before turning to move towards the door. Placing her hand on the knob, she spared him one last glance, keeping the image of him smiling softly at her in her mind as she left the room. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she closed the door behind her and let it out.

She managed to get back to her office safely and spent the rest of the day inside, only half paying attention to her work, one, because she was still recovering from heat exhaustion, and two, if she were honest, mainly because she kept remembering Owen Grady. After the way he cared for her and stayed with her it was difficult not to let herself indulge in those thoughts just a little bit. She couldn't get the image of his stare out of her mind and pondered if she should finally give in to the urge to go on a date with him. She let her mind wander in out of those thoughts as she worked and by the end of the day, realized she didn't get nearly as much work done as she should have. If anyone asked she'd blame it on the heat, but she knew to blame it on Owen Grady.

#clawen #clawen fanfic #clawen sickfic #clawen sick #claire dearing pov #pre jurassic world #my fic #sickfic #clawen fic #clawen fanfiction #clawen ff #one shot #but its an animal hospital #jurassic june #jurassic world

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bledsoul · 1 month

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THE ACCIDENT, circa 2010.

“ white male, mid 40s, looks like some sort of animal attack. multiple lacerations, centralized to the right abdomen – he's lost a lot of blood. ”

2,100+ words, tw - blood, mild gore, animal death, hospitals, mild emetophobia.

&&&

INT. POLICE CAR – NIGHT

“ yeah chief i’m en route now. bout two minutes out — ”

the radio chirps to life as sheriff wilkes responds, “ call was about some sort of disturbance at the old mill on mulberry. no suspect was spotted, but the caller said they heard a whole lotta commotion coming from somewhere out back. said she could hear a voice, ” there’s a pause before the sheriff speaks again.

“ —don’t go doing anything stupid, son. ”

“ can’t make any promises, sir, ” he lets out a slight exhale of a laugh before placing the radio back on the dock.

the mill is right down the road, gabe remembers, just far enough on the edge of town to not have to deal with many calls, but close enough to residents to be concerned when the situation arises.

EXT. DECOMMISSIONED MILL

he parks the mustang by the street, not wanting to risk any stray gunfire in the event of a shootout, but this means he has to walk the rest of the way to the sight of the call. jogging down the dirt path toward the massive old building, he waits until he’s a bit closer to unholster his gun, retrieving his flashlight from the utility clip on his belt as well.

at first glance, the door doesn’t appear to have been tampered with. gabe takes a deep breath and begins to circle the perimeter.

he knows offhand there are four exits to the building, including two garage doors, but the caller reported hearing noise coming from inside— so he has to search for possible points of entry, before ultimately checking out the inside of the building for himself.

sucking in another centering breath, he proceeds, continuing past the first door and onto the second, gun and flashlight in position as he examines every window he passes.

he’s coming up to the third window, just before the second exit, when a soft snap stops him in his tracks. a brief glance downward confirms no debris beneath his boots. eyes and firearm scanning the grass beside the building, gabe ultimately comes up empty, proceeding forward.

maybe it was a squirrel. or the wind.

he shakes away the thought, doubtful that he could be so lucky. in fact, his luck just about runs out as he approaches the second exit.

there’s broken glass, blood.

the small glass paneling along the top half of the door’s been shattered.

someone’s been here.

INT. DECOMMISSIONED MILL — MAIN OFFICE

the door creaks open as he nudges it forward, careful to avoid stepping on the worst of the glass, or the blood. but it quickly becomes much harder as he makes his way through the abandoned central office toward the door leading to the factory floor.

there’s a trail of blood this time, and viscera, leading past the open office door and out into the other room. there are marks in the trail, clearly footprints, but barely distinguishable.

unknown if animal or human.

the thought of finding an animal out on the factory floor, coupled with the sheer amount of blood he’s already seen, is enough to send a chill down gabe’s spine, but he powers through it, continues forward.

INT. DECOMMISSIONED MILL — FACTORY FLOOR

the moment he steps past the threshold, he has to suppress a gag.

he’s immediately hit with a smell so strong, so pungent, it makes his eyes water and his stomach clench.

one hand lifting to quickly block his nose and mouth, he scans the area, notices the blood trail continuing.

“ fuck. ”

taking a few short, shallow breaths through his shirt sleeve, so as to not take in too much more of the horrific smell, gabe swallows harshly, opting to hold his breath instead as he rounds the corner.

the blood finally stops after a few feet, but the sight it leads to is not for the faint of heart— or stomach.

it looks like a deer.

gabe is almost positive of that, but there’s not much left of it besides a pile of unidentifiable gore, antlers discarded a few feet away. the hand holding his flashlight once again sneaks upward to cover his mouth, the smell doing absolutely nothing to quell his roiling stomach or racing heart.

funnily enough, the more prominent trail of blood appears to stop right here, as if the deer were dragged through the mill and onto the factory floor, before being devoured— utterly eviscerated.

gabe’s eyes scan the area again, before locking onto a few scattered splotches of blood, a distorted footprint here and there; but they’re erratic, and there’s no clear path in any specific direction for him to follow.

he’s about to continue along the perimeter of the inside wall when something clatters onto the floor from somewhere behind the massive machines in the center of the room.

the urge to announce himself, to warn the intruder of his approach, is quickly quelled by the sound of something snuffling about. by sound alone, gabe can tell that it’s massive, whatever it is.

he clicks off his flashlight; there’s enough moonlight streaming through the skylight to illuminate the animal’s hulking form.

a wolf? no, too big — and moving much too fast and too unpredictably to be a bear.

gabe crouches down behind a wall, actively working to both calm his racing heart and come up with a plan of action. he doesn’t have any sort of tranquilizer on him, but he’s got to get rid of the creature somehow.

if it's already begun exploring buildings in town, it's already become too much of a risk to the residents.

the problem is, who’s to say it wouldn’t immediately come after him when provoked?

he peeks out from behind the wall at the continued racket coming from across the room. visible in the small space beneath the rusted machinery, are four monstrously large paws.

“ whatthefuck— ” he whispers breathlessly to himself before immediately clamping a hand over his mouth.

the creature pauses, listening.

gabe holds his breath.

after a few more seconds it goes back to tearing through whatever its discovered. old food stores? gabe’s not sure. he can’t think straight anymore. all he knows is he needs to get out and as far away from this building as possible. he’s got to warn the town. call animal control. call— the army? who the hell knows.

his thoughts are racing now and his movements aren’t as careful, but his gun is still gripped tightly in one hand, flashlight tucked back safely within his belt.

but as he stands, there’s a miscalculation, and the flashlight knocks into the surface of the work station he’s been hiding behind.

a single screw rolls its way off the edge and falls to the ground with a soft — tink.

&&&

EXT. DECOMMISSIONED MILL

gabe isn’t entirely sure how he made it back outside, but he’s almost certain that’s the moon he’s looking at in the sky right now.

he sucks in a shallow, ragged breath, wondering briefly why he’s on the ground, with the immediate pain that follows being his only answer.

there’s a growing warmth spreading from somewhere beneath his midsection, the source of the pain, and gabe swipes one hand clumsily across the ground before lifting it toward his face.

the action leaves him shaking with effort, but the result — draws a choked sob from his throat.

his fingers come away slicked with crimson.

he can feel the sticky heat spread all the way across the ground beneath his torso, the puddle growing with every continued heave of his chest.

the sick, heavy feeling in his stomach tells him he’s dying. he doesn’t want to believe it, but his vision is starting to go fuzzy and there’s a numbness in his toes, leeching out from the wound like a sickness.

gabe takes another ragged, deep breath, as deep as his body will allow, suddenly content to just lie there— the pain begins to fade anyway.

maybe he can just close his eyes, let go.

but then his sluggish mind snaps to the poor soul who might eventually find him.

would they — find him?

he’s not sure where he is in this exact moment, but he can’t have stumbled too far away from the mill. or been dragged. there’s a millisecond of an attempt to crane his neck to look, but he can barely manage that, his gaze drifting back up to rest on the glowing silver orb in the sky.

it is kind of beautiful, the moon. he’s never really paid enough attention to it before, which is a damn shame, he thinks.

gabe blinks heavily, and all of a sudden there’s a figure standing over him.

there’s not enough energy remaining in his body to allow him to flinch or react in any sort of way beyond a soft huh but—

it’s a man.

gabe doesn’t recognize him upon first glance, but there’s a strange familiarity in his eyes. stringy, dark hair hangs in clumps, obscuring much of the man’s face, but gabe can tell he’s filthy, caked with whatever the hell is causing that utterly rancid odor.

dirt and blood. a lot of it.

the man lingers over top of him for what feels like forever, and gabe only stares, mouth opening and closing a few times, like a fish out of water.

but just as suddenly as he’s appeared, the man vanishes.

“ hey— wait- h- ” gabe’s voice suddenly comes back to him, but the stranger is already long gone.

with one final burst of energy, gabe clumsily fishes for the walkie on his belt. he might be out of range, it might even be dead, but he’s got nothing left to lose, so he calls.

pleads.

cries.

officer down.

&&&

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM — A FEW DAYS LATER

the smell of antiseptic is what ultimately rouses him from sleep the next morning. memories of the night prior feel like something of a distant dream, or perhaps a nightmare.

had it actually happened?

the sharp tug of the adhesive holding gauze to his skin as he shifts in bed provides an immediate answer.

blinking awake, gabe takes in the sight of the empty hospital room with a sigh of quiet relief.

holy shit.

someone had found him in time.

and now he’s alive, in the hospital, no doubt healing from one of the worst animal attacks anyone in this town has ever seen—but alive.

he’s feeling moderately okay as well, which is a goddamn miracle, but the deep red stains visible through the back of the gauze wrapped around his midsection tell another story.

curiosity quickly gets the better of him and he shifts in bed, swinging his legs over the edge before he notices some items on the table nearby.

a single card sits beside a small blue teddy bear, the words it’s a boy! written across the soft white fuzz of its tummy.

guess they didn’t have any sorry you got attacked by a wolf-bear thing and almost died teddy bears left in the hospital gift shop, he thinks, eliciting a slight chuckle.

taking slowly to his feet, he scoops up the card for a moment as he passes the table.

love, dorothy.

of course.

gently returning the card to its place, he begins the slow shuffle toward the bathroom, dragging the IV pole and heart monitor behind him as he glances toward the door, making sure no one’s on their way in to stop him and return him swiftly to bed.

the coast seems clear, as he drags the metal contraption over the threshold and shuts the bathroom door behind him.

throughout his short trek from the bed to the toilet, he’s expecting to feel — much worse than he actually does. strangely enough, he feels better. almost energized. like he’s just woken up from a particularly restful nap.

he still looks fairly rough in the mirror though.

there’s a small amount of stubble covering his cheeks, the rest of his face littered with yellowing bruises and a multitude of butterfly stitches. context clues tell him this must not be his first night here.

he leans forward, inspecting the bandages adorning his face for a moment before gingerly peeling one off.

the skin beneath is smooth, no laceration in site.

gabe takes a step away from the mirror, brow furrowed in confusion.

suddenly, his hands are moving to push aside the hospital gown before he has a chance to think about what he’s doing, peeling away heavy, sanguineous cotton to reveal unmarred, clean skin, all before he can take in a second breath.

the pungent, coppery tang of the blood on the gauze is enough to send him sprawling for the toilet, heaving nothing but bile until his throat burns.

it’s then that the hospital staff barges into the bathroom to address the sudden spike in readings of his heart monitor.

gabe sits mute on the cold tile floor, racing heart suddenly filled with more questions than answers.

#gabe shaw / bio.#blood //#mild gore //#hospitals //#emetophobia //#animal death //#its brief though don't worry

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