Claire's world has narrowed down to independent variables. The way the wind blows. The strength of the boar's smell. The willingness of the raptors to hunt, and not turn on her and shred her like wet paper. Things she can't control. She fucking hates field tests. (Or, role swap!AU. Claire trains raptors, Owen runs a theme park, and no one can decide if the plural of Indominus is indomini or indominuses.)

Claire Dearing has successfully run Jurassic World for seven years without a major incident. Trust Owen Grady to fuck that up. (Or, three months prior to the Indominus Event, Vic Hoskins makes a bad decision, Owen Grady goes missing, and four six-foot, three hundred pound murder lizards escape into Claire's park. She can hear Alan Grant shouting, "I told you so!" from Montana.)