2.1
Setting: House holds his injured right hand close
to his chest while staring at the phone placed
before him.
-
"Dr. House? Must I repeat myself?"
"Who are you?" House looked to the man, waiting for the answer.
"I asked you to call Dr. Cameron."
"Who are you?"
"You're quite persistent. It's nice to see your reputation is true. I am Murphy, Dr. House."
2.2
"What do want with Cameron?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Look, if you're that hard up to get to see her, you could just go down to the ER and – ."
"Call her."
"She's not nearly as fun as you think she is."
"Call her."
"She's not even that pretty."
"Call her."
"I've known her for four years, you're not missing anything."
2.3
"Martin! Bring out the man! Ah, no, Dr. House, turn around."
In that instant, House hated guns more than clinic duty. They held too much power he didn't have, especially the one that was once again aimed at his head.
3.1
Setting: The owner of the bar is gagged, his wrists
bound together so tightly, blood is marring the
ties. Martin places the owner in a chair and
stands behind him while Murphy's gun changes
position and aims at the scared man.
-
"Call Dr. Cameron."
"If you seriously think I care about this man enough to save him from certain death, you're delusional."
Murphy stared at House, his expression telling nothing at all. "Why is this man wearing a sweatshirt in July?"
House's mouth opened before he completely thought about the reason, but the words halted bitterly as realization dawned. He could suddenly feel the sweat beginning to form on his neck.
"No…."
Still looking at House, Murphy nodded his head. "Martin, raise the shirt."
3.2
He was right. The guy had a bomb strapped to his chest. Great. Just fucking great.
"Alright, he's strapped." House stopped himself before adding 'so what.'
"You do not care your life depends on his?"
"I figure neither one of us is getting out alive to begin with."
"And you are fine with that?"
"Between this and dying of hepatic and renal failure that's only a few years away? Yeah."
Murphy softly chuckled as he waved for Martin to lower the man's shirt. "You are something else, Dr. House."
"So I've heard."
"Well," Murphy placed his gun back into the holster. "I will call Mick to shoot her now."
3.3
"What? No!"
"You would not call her."
"You don't need her!"
"I do."
"What could you possibly need her for?"
3.4
"You call her," Murphy rapped the table with his knuckles. "Then, she does not die."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"I will say it one more time, Dr. House."
"I'm not doing anything for you."
"Do I seem like a joking man? All you have to do is call her and ask her to come here." Murphy leaned back in his seat with a shrug of his shoulders. "Or she dies. It is up to you."
4.1
Setting: House holds the phone in his left hand
hesitantly before punching the 5 on speed dial.
-
One ring. Don't pick up. Two ring. Don't pick up. Three ring. Don't pick up. Four. Damn.
"Cameron? Yeah, I know it's two in the morning. Look, yeah, yeah, I know, Cameron."
House glanced towards the bomb man whose nose was beginning to bleed before meeting Murphy's light brown gaze.
"I just…if you could…" he rubbed his forehead roughly. "It's the bar on fourth street. The only one you guys go to….No, there's no one else I can call….Look, don't come, alright?….I'm an idiot….I know….Fine."
4.2
Setting: He shuts the phone softly before
tossing it on the table.
-
"She's not coming. Kill us so my ghost can stick its cane up your ass."
"I did not say she must come."
"But you said –."
"I said to call her and ask her to come here. Her answer is irrelevant."
House lowered his head in something near to frustration before raising his eyes to Murphy's.
"Do not be discouraged, Dr. House."
4.3
"I'm not."
"You shouldn't be." Murphy pulled out his gun.
"Just get it over with."
House watched his captor, wanting the man to watch his death though it would probably mean nothing.
"As you wish."
5.1
The two gunshots drummed in his ears long after it was fired, probably more due to his imagination than the actual sound since Murphy had an excellent silencer. House watched the owner's eyes widen in fear before the bullet pierced his cranium with a sound not quite describable and his entire body slumped out of the chair to be caught by Martin.
"You thought I would kill you?"
The answer was an equivocal, 'duh,' but House said nothing as he looked back to Martin dragging the body across the floor to the backroom where he'd been held before.
"Your Dr. Cameron is a nice woman."
"What?"
"She's a very considerate person, wouldn't you agree?"
"…."
A/N: Ah...so this story is pretty much dead. LOL But that's okay. That's okay.