"Sorry," Mariah said quietly as she reached for the phone. "Just pause it for a minute. It's work. It must be important."

Sharon nodded. She didn't exactly have the right to be annoyed that Mariah had a life, one that occasionally interrupted their cable movie night marathons. She was all too aware that most of this was about pity. Mariah hated the thought of her mother sitting in the house all alone and would conveniently find movies that she 'just had to see' on an almost weekly basis. Tonight was another must see movie of the week that was far too syrupy for her to believe it had any place on her daughter's queue. Still, her social life was just pathetic enough not to refuse any offer. "No problem," she muttered as she obediently pressed the button on the remote.

Mariah shook her head. "No. I … I don't know anything about that. Well, yeah I guess we would if … And you're sure that's exactly what they said? There's no chance you could have misunderstood?" She glanced towards Sharon for a moment, grateful that her eyes were focused elsewhere. "Go ahead and send someone, but don't run anything until you get an actual quote. The last thing we need to do is rattle the cage of a Newman." The mention of the name seemed to catch Sharon's attention and she turned to stare at her intently. "Keep me updated, okay?" She ended the call quickly, already poised to answer the pending question before placing the phone back onto the table in front of her.

"I don't really know a whole lot yet," she said as calmly as possible, "but that was one of the ringers from GC Buzz and …"

She could see the seriousness on her face and it was obvious … "What?"

"They said they heard a call over the police scanner that a team of hostage negotiators were being called out to 414 Woodridge Court."

"Woodridge Court? That's where Nick's new …" She stopped. "Wait Nick is …"

"I don't know." Mariah stood up quickly and searched the room for the coat she'd discarded somewhere. "I don't have any information except that it's Nick's address, but I'm going to go to the studio now and see what I can find out." Her hand rested on Sharon's shoulder. "I'll let you know as soon as I know something, okay?" She could see the concern that had already taken up permanent residence on her face. "Just try not to worry."

"So what's the plan?" Nick looked at Sergeant Brunson as he walked over to the car. He had no idea how much time had passed … how much time he had spent with his feet glued to the pavement, watching helplessly as Phyllis stared at him through the window. All he knew was that she was now gone. The window was now covered with curtains again and he had no way of knowing what was going on inside that house, what she was going through, what he might have been doing to her.

"When do you go in?" Nick asked in panicked anguish. "What are you waiting on? If you need more resources – I'll give you as much money as you need. I can make some calls and …"

"Mr. Newman …"

Nick knew the look. He'd seen it plenty of times in the past. It was the annoyed look of people that regarded him as entitled. He was about to be informed for the millionth time that being a Newman didn't give him the right to expect any special treatment.

"I understand that you're worried and believe me, we all want to end this as quickly as possible, but we have to make sure that we're following the proper procedures and protocols so that everyone is safe and …"

"Everyone isn't safe!" The initial plan of staying calm and being respectful had long since been abandoned. "Phyllis isn't safe! She's in there with a man that, by your own admission, has had some issues in the past and we have no idea what he's capable of. Actually, we do … We know that he had gasoline with him which suggests, at least to me, that he didn't go in with the best of intentions, so I don't know … call me crazy but …." He was nearly screaming now and the sound of tires rolling up behind him easily blending in with the noise in his own head.

"Absolutely not."

Nick watched as the large man waved the officers over, his face morphing into a much more stern, annoyed expression. "What are you?" He turned and finally understood. In the midst of the newly arriving hostage negotiation team were vans and cars equipped with cameras and equipment. Members of various media outlets were now climbing from vehicles and clamoring to the get the best view of the house.

"Make sure this whole area is secure," Brunson barked. "The last thing we need is for this to turn into some media circus."

"I couldn't agree more." Nick turned to face the new voice.

"Commander Keith Von Lutken," the man said as he extended his hand. "I'm heading up the hostage negotiation team." He turned towards Sergeant Brunson. "Your officers have been filling me in on the details, but I'm hoping you can give me some more information as well." He looked over at Nick. "Do you know Mr. Brooks at all? Any past dealings with him?"

"Uh … indirectly, kind of. I …" The yelling of the reporters behind him was distracting and he turned, for only a moment to see the group of officers as they argued with the persistent gathering.

"You may have to do something to address that," Von Lutken said. "I know we normally advise not to engage the media in situations like this, but we're dealing with a high profile individual here and once they've got wind of this, they're not gonna back off until you give them something they can run with. At least if we issue a statement, we can control what information is out there and we keep the wild rumors from spreading."

"What do you think?" Sergeant Brunson looked over at Nick. "Are you up for this?"

"I want her out of there," Nick said quickly. "However we do that. Whatever I need to do, I'll do it."

"Sit down," he hissed. The sound of her muffled sobs weighed on him as he tried to look away. There was nothing in him that relished causing her any real pain. This wasn't who he was. It wasn't even who he wanted to be. The reality was that she wasn't supposed to be here. This was, yet another thing in his life, that hadn't gone as he had planned. The difference tonight was that he was going to see it through … no matter what.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Hearing the words surprised even him and he turned to look at her finally, against his better judgement. "What?"

"Is that your plan? To kill me? To punish my family or Nick or to make a point or something? Is that why I'm here?"

Cameron watched her for a long moment. The fear on her face was completely genuine yet the power it afforded him didn't feel nearly as satisfying as he'd anticipated. He felt guilty and ashamed and, if it was possible, maybe even worse than he had when he'd arrived here tonight. Was this the legacy he wanted to leave for his son? Was this what Maxton would tell people about his father? The idea of it made him feel sick and his legs suddenly felt weak as he lowered himself to sit down beside her on the sofa. "I don't want to," he said honestly. "None of this is what I wanted."

"So then, just let me go. I'll just go and we'll do what I said before. I'll explain everything and I'll tell all of them that this was just a huge misunderstanding. I'll be there to stand up for you and I'll do everything I can to make sure that you get all the help you need."

"You can't help me. No one can help me. My wife and my son hate me. Everything I've ever cared about has been ripped away from me and nothing you can say or do is ever going to change that." The reality slapped him in the face again. "None of this is what I wanted, but it is what it is and unfortunately for you …" He looked down at the gun in his hand and nodded before holding it out in front of him. "Reality just sucks sometimes."