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The blazing heat of the sun hit the back of Ellie’s neck the second she stepped out of the jeep. It was the oppressive kind, the kind that took no prisoners, not even in the shade. If it were anywhere else in the world, then the occasional breeze would have been a welcome relief from the inescapable heat, but not here. Not in the Montana Badlands. Here, it was just as disgustingly hot and dry as the sun, and brought with it dust that hit your face and any other exposed piece of skin with such force that it stung. It was unappealing, inhospitable to even the most hardened of creatures, and quite possibly the worst place on earth.
And God how she had missed it.
She had taken a step back from field work after Charlie came along, choosing projects a little bit closer to DC over the months long excursions deep into the middle of nowhere, and then after Grace she had stopped entirely. She knew it was irrational, but even years after what had happened at the park, being too far from the kids and Mark left her uneasy.
She let a smile grow as she walked through the pits filled with a mix of volunteers and students and towards the cluster of caravans and tents ahead, the ground crunching under her boots. She loved her life. Loved being a mother, loved the teaching and writing, the academic work. But a little piece of her heart would always be out here. Spending hours in the blazing heat crouched over a five-by-five plot of land and chipping away at dust, rock, and dirt waiting for that first flash of muted white within the rock.
There was a grad student standing by the water fountain filling up a canteen - or at least trying to. She was looking directly at Ellie with a look of dazed shock and mouth slightly agape and hadn’t noticed that her hand had drifted away from the tap, the water going right past the canteen and puddling at her feet. Ellie smiled at her, and she went bright red, quickly unfreezing and going back to filling her canteen, clearly embarrassed that she had been caught staring.
More heads started to pop up from the pits like meerkats, people nudging their colleagues and whispered debates over whether it really was Doctor Sattler walking through the site. No one stopped her as she walked towards the tents at the centre, no security checks, or inquiries into why she had suddenly appeared, presumably uninvited and clearly not dressed to work. A flush grew at the base of her neck. They knew who she was, so they clearly knew why she was here. Or rather, who she was here for. Her and Alan were never exactly a secret.
Walking into the tent felt like she had stepped back thirty years. Every surface was littered with paper, drawers, and stray notes. Bone casts and miniature raptor skeletons lay on the table in front of her, and books were piled up in seats and on the floor, her own lying open on the desk closest. Cups, canteens, and bottles hung from the roof of the tent and the walls were littered with planners and maps, and she ran her finger along the drawings pinned up on the notice board. Alan had stopped drawing after the park, and it warmed her to see that somewhere along the years he had picked it back up again.
It dawned on her at that moment just how long it had truly been. How much she had missed. Her move from field work to academia had been the final nail in the coffin for them. Dinners and coffee faded into run-ins at academic conventions, birthday and thanksgiving cards lost through changing addresses, and they had slowly fallen out of contact. A part of her regretted it, letting them fade out of each other’s lives in the way they did. He was once her constant, even after their relationship ended. With everything they’d gone through together she couldn’t imagine him not being a part of her life. And now, here she was. Waiting for him like a stranger.
Were they truly strangers though? even without his physical presence in her life, he was still very much a part of it. The research papers, the et al’s, the faded photos in her study, just behind the kid's first days and graduations, Charlie’s happy memories of the dinosaur man, and the childhood love of fossils that would never fully fade.
Even now, standing in the tent of a man that she hadn’t spoken to in over twenty years, a part of her still felt at home. There was no worry about awkwardness, or distance between them, because this was Alan. It was them.
Taking in her surroundings fully, a small laugh left her. No computer. How very Alan. It comforted her in an odd way, that even after all this time some things never changed.
Turning to face the right wall, a flash of faded white caught her eye. Sellotaped to the front of a cabinet was a photo of them standing in the middle of some desert. Her heart twisted a little bit. God, those were the days. When hours were spent under the blazing sun and the time could be measured in empty crates of beer. Before Hammond came along and changed everything.
When they were just Ellie and Alan.
She was lost in memories, leaning in closer to read the items on the wall. His notes and memos littered with his dry humour; excerpts of books filled with his critiques, hearing his voice in his the written remarks. It was the clang of a dropped shovel that pulled her out of her reverie.
“Ellie Sattler”
His voice was slightly breathless and a little more gruff than she remembered it to be, but it felt just as familiar as it always had.
She let the smile fill her words.
“Alan Grant"