Just Muse Me: Leave Right Now
Five times you stayed and one time you left
[ooc: featuring cant_have_any, based on various role-plays]
-One-
Murphy was pissed off, not just angry or annoyed, but pissed off. The funny thing was, the more pissed she got, the more stubborn she became. Determined, she followed after House and fell into step with him. From the moment she’d found him in the bar, once again drinking himself stupid she’d been trying to get him out. He’d fought her every single agonizing step of the way, which was why she was pissed. God, the man was damn near impossible sober and drunk just seemed to make it worse. If she wasn’t such a stubborn cuss, she’d have left him behind.
“Stop following me,” he said without looking at her.
There was a spike of anger and a matching spike of stubbornness. “No.”
He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “Leave me the hell alone, Murphy. I’m not in the mood.”
“I don't give a damn what mood you're in,” she said, facing him with her arms crossed. “You're drunk and I'm not letting you out of my sights until I know you're safe. So, you can be as pissed and moody as you like, I'm not going anywhere. Deal with it.”
“Yeah, I'm drunk! I'm drunk for a reason and you stopping me from getting even more drunk is pissing me off! Excuse me if I'm not seeing the charity in your decision to annoy me.”
Now she was yelling. “I don't give a damn what your reason is, getting drunk this often is bad for you and I'm not going to let you do it!”
“It's not up to you! My body, my decision!”
He was right. He was a legal adult, way over the drinking age and he had every right to drink himself stupid. Why the hell did she care if he slowly poisoned himself? She should just walk away, leave him on his own to stumble home and screw it all. Her night would go a lot smoother if she just left him there to wallow in his pain and drunken stupor.
She wasn’t that type of woman however. He’d started a fight, and she didn’t back down from a fight. She didn’t back down from him.
“Then you can drink all you want when you get home.”
“You’re not coming home with me.”
“Try and stop me,” she challenged. He was going to be a pain in the ass, she was going to be one right back.
He glared at her, then dug through his pocket. The Vicodin bottle finally made its appearance. She waited while he took the pills. The drug habit was a whole other issue right now and one she’d deal with later.
“Good luck getting there,” he said after stuffing the pill bottle back in his pocket and turning back the way they’d come, back towards the same damn barn she’d dragged him out of.
“God, and I thought I wanted to kill Munzer,” she muttered under her breath, then gritted her teeth and stepped in his way. He towered over her, but she planted her feet, ready to get physical.
“I will handcuff you and drag you to my car if I have to, you know.” There was no room for argument in her tone. She was telling him the plain simple facts. She would do exactly as she said, come hell or high water or his damn stubborn ass.
“Just try it.”
That kicked up her ire. She hated being challenged. “I have dragged around bigger, stronger and way more drunk than you.” She had her handcuffs out before she even really thought about it. “I’m going to ask nicely that you come with me to my car, then I’m going to make you.”
He studied her, but she stayed unflinching. She was serious and he was going to respect that. To her surprised, he did. He frowned a looked away. He’d given in. She’d won.
“Fine. Do whatever the hell you want.”
Victory didn’t always feel good.
---
-Two-
“You’ve just sucked all the fun out of belittling people,” House grumbled slightly. Murphy watched him, head tilted slightly as he sat back and start kneading his thigh. He was in really bad pain tonight. She couldn’t remember any time she’d seen him like this. How much she didn’t like it shocked her. How much she wanted to help him was just her nature, but the unhappiness she felt at his pain was new and slightly uncomfortable.
“I know. It's my joy in life.” Even uncomfortable she went over to him and pushed his hands out of the way. He was never going to get the right angle. “Let me. I can do better.”
He jerked his leg again, and grabbed her hands tightly, keeping them far, far away from the scar she’d barely gotten a feel of. “No, Murphy, don’t.”
Not trying to help was not in her nature. Not trying to help him seemed to be becoming part of that nature too.
“House.” She caught his eyes, looking to see if he was really uncomfortable with her or if it was just another one of his defense mechanisms. “You really think it's going to bother me or change anything? Let me, please.”
He studied her for a long time, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t like being studied, especially by someone as observant as him but she let him. She didn’t know what he saw or what he made of her, but he let go of her hands and looked away.
“Let me know if I hurt you,” she spoke softly, not wanting to startle him again. She put her hands back on his leg, and began to work her fingers over the scar. It stunned her how much of the muscle was gone. She could feel how deep it went, except for a ridge that went down the middle of puckered skin and hard scar tissue. Her own leg muscle twitched in sympathy. She had seen it before, that one time they’d slept together, but had never really studied it.
She merged the memories she had with what her fingers told her and came up with a very ugly mental picture. She understood why he was looking away from her, why he was so tense. He didn’t want her to know. With something like this, when people knew, it had to change the way they treated him. She didn’t change a thing, she kept her fingers firm and didn’t shy away from the scar or the man that came with it.
---
-Three-
She was becoming part of the hospital Murphy realized. Even late at night, none of the staff was questioning her reasons for being there. Usually someone asked what she was doing. On the elevator ride up to House’s office she wondered if that was a good thing or just a sign that she really needed to make some friends outside Princeton-Plainsboro. There had to be someone inside the department she liked besides her partner.
She shook it off as she stepped off onto the correct floor and made her way down the hall to House’s office. The lights were off. She really hoped someone was there at least or else she was going to look like an idiot for showing up this late. She needed some time out of her office to think about this case and for some reason, taking over House’s office seemed like the perfect place to do that.
As she drew closer she caught the glow of something inside, then spotted him. House was curled up in his chair, asleep. It made her smile. Alright, so she couldn’t bounce ideas off of him, but at least he was there. She’d just leave the coffee she’d brought and go someplace else. There had to be a diner open somewhere with cheap coffee and good pie.
Quietly she opened the door and slipped inside, making sure to ease the door closed behind her. She set the coffee cup on the near-by shelves and then froze as he mumbled something in his sleep and shifted. She didn’t want to wake him. He looked like he needed the sleep. Even though it was pushing her look, she took a minute to study him. He was more relaxed in sleep, but there were still deep circles under his eyes and just a sense of exhaustion about him. Still, she was smiling. It just felt good to see him.
The change was gradual, but he was waking up. She mentally kicked herself as the tension returned to his face and his eyebrows drew together.
“This had better be something important.”
“I just brought you coffee,” she schooled her features into the blank expression all cops seemed to master. She wasn’t going to let him see she actually cared about him. No way in hell. “You can go back to sleep. Looks like you need it as much as me.”
He frowned like he wasn’t expecting her and rubbed a hand over his eyes before peering at her. “Murphy?” he paused to yawn and stretch, “What time is it?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Caught red handed. “Either really late at night or very early in the morning. Depends on your point of view.”
He squinted at his watch, then pulled out a pager squinting at that too before he tossed it onto the bookshelf. “Crap,” he muttered while rubbing at his eyes. She mentally winced in sympathy while he lowered his leg from the footstool.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said as she beat him to the Vicodin bottle and handed it over.
He shook his head, then downed a pill. “No, got a patient.”
After swallowing the pill he nodded towards the wall behind her. “I shouldn’t have been asleep for so long.”
She glanced behind her. The glow had come from a set of MRIs, at least she guessed they were MRIs, hanging on one of those lighted squares. She wondered if he’d just sat down to thinking about them and just fallen asleep.
“If you fell asleep, you needed the sleep. Relax, I don’t think you were asleep for long,” She said, looking back towards him. “How fast are they dying?”
He shrugged, “He could die in five minutes or give months. Depends on whether or not he really does have cancer.”
Murphy seriously thought working with already dead people had to be much easier than what he did. “Then you can catch a quick nap without feeling guilty. Here.” She took the coffee down from the bookshelf and held it out to him. “If you’re like me, you won’t go back to sleep until you know who did it. Or what’s killing this person in this case.”
That’s why she was still awake. She couldn’t sleep when she had a case on her mind. He took the coffee and took a sip.
“Thanks.” He glanced around her for a second, “Can’t do anything until the lab results come back.” He took another sip then focused on her again. “I’d scoot over but there’s only room for one.”
It was a weak joke at best, but she smiled a little. He was still House, even preoccupied and half-asleep. Why did she find that adorable? “You’re welcome. Nice of you to offer, but we’re both too tired for anything really fun.”
He nodded with a yawn. He was still adorable and that probably made her an idiot. He nudged the footstool, making some room. Her first instinct was to step back. She assumed he was going to get up and limp off somewhere.
“Have a seat,” he said, surprising her. “Mi casa es su casa.”
Even though this was the reason she’d come here, excuses to leave popped into her head. They were good excuses too. She really should get out of there before she did something stupid like try to smooth his hair down or offer to get him breakfast or let him see any of the affection she felt for him. She really didn’t want him to catch on that she honestly liked him. That would just be a disaster. Right now, when she thought he was adorable and she was feeling warm towards him would just lead to disaster. Leaving was the safest and smartest option.
Which was why she sat down on the offered stool and stayed.
---
-Four-
Murphy ached. Not just in her throat or her arm, but everywhere, deep down to what remained of her soul. She ached. Sitting in the back of the ambulance she looked down at the asphalt, unable to look anywhere but down. She was still sticky with Vincent’s blood, but he’d gone right to work, snapping her arm back in place, holding her steady while she recovered from the shock and pain. Everyone else handled her with kid gloves, as if she’d break apart any second. He had been firm, strong. She desperately needed that. She could feel him watching her, but she kept her eyes down, focusing on the sling.
“I killed him, you know,” she confessed. He had probably already figured that out but she needed to tell someone who could handle it. Right now, he was the stable one, he could handle the news she was still trying to process.
“Don’t care.”
She’d heard the honesty in his voice, but the almost gentle tone just increased the ache. Could he really not care that she’d killed a man? Would he still see her the same way as before? She was changed, different, and everyone was going to treat her that way. Except, maybe him.
“I do.” She sighed so she wouldn’t cry. Aching as she was, she didn’t want to cry in front of him. She didn’t want him to see how broken she really was. “That’s the most fucked up thing about this. I care.”
“He tried to kill you.” The frown was obvious in his tone and she dropped her eyes lower, guilty and ashamed.
“Yes. Two other times before this. And that’s why this is fucked up.”
“You’re an idiot.” His voice was quiet, still honest though. She felt the bubble of hysterical laughter build in her throat and swallowed hard to keep it down. He put something over her head and she realized it was his scarf, the bright red one. He’d made it into a sling. She watched his hands gently take her broken arm and lift it into the sling. He was careful with her as he set it down and made sure it was secure. The ache just increased.
She had never seen him like this in the long time she’d known him. He’d been stubborn. He’d been an ass. She’d seen some of his insecurities and vulnerabilities. She’d laughed with him and yelled at him, but she’d never seen tenderness or caring. She’d never seen him care for her. She wanted to believe it wasn’t just because she’d killed a man, but because he did actually care. She needed someone to care right now.
Finally, she lifted her eyes up and met his searching for something in them, a sign or a glimmer something to give her a reason for why she put up with him when he wasn’t like this. She just saw him. Apparently that was enough for her.
“I know.”
“Need anything else?”
She heard it in his voice, the offer for something more, something to lean on. Hundreds of answers filled her head. ‘Don’t leave’ sat on the tip of her tongue. She needed him to stay around, even if this was all the tenderness she ever saw from him. She needed the fights, the frustration, the brutal honesty he offered. She needed someone who understood what it was like to be broken. But because she knew him, she didn’t say it.
“Yes. But I don’t know what.” Liar.
“Yes, you do.” He studied her and she had to fight to let him. “You always know what you want.”
“I want...” she couldn’t say the rest of it. She just shook her head and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest. She just wanted to stay with him.
---
-Five-
“I want you out of my apartment.”
The hurt was swift and sudden. She didn’t understand it, so she pushed it aside and doggedly tried to get him back on track. “That has nothing to do with what's pissing you off. You're still avoiding the topic.”
“Hmm, and I wonder why that is...” House made a show of thinking hard, “Oh, yeah. Because it's none of your business. Funny how that works out, huh?”
“Hilarious. I'm cracking up.” Murphy narrowed her eyes at him. “I'll get out of your apartment when you tell me what's really wrong with you.”
Even if she didn’t want to leave.
“You'll get out of my apartment even if I have to hire burly movers to throw you out for me.”
“Broken arm or not, I can still take on guys twice my size.” She wasn’t going to give up that easy. She couldn’t give up that easy.
“Now, maybe you're having trouble remembering, but I've dragged your drunk ass out of bars, I've put up with you asking annoying questions about me killing a guy, and I've put up with you insulting me as well. I don't know where you got this delusion I'm going to give up just because you start being really mean, but kill it, because I'm not going anywhere. Even when you're at your worst.”
“When you put it like that it doesn't sound like there's a good reason for you to stick around so either you're just a glutton for punishment or you're a narcissist who thinks that she can control and fix everything around her.”
There was the hurt again. It was harder to ignore this time, but she wasn’t going to let him see that his barbs were hitting their mark. She had too much pride for that.
“Personally, I don't give a crap which it is; it doesn't change the fact that it's incredibly annoying, so I'll say this slowly so that you don't miss anything. I want you out of my apartment and out of my life.”
The anger with herself for being hurt and the anger that he could hurt her was much easier to go with. She focused on that and kept pressing her luck. “Go with whatever answer makes you the happiest, but let's turn this on you since you're the one with the problem.”
“You like testing people, seeing how far you can push them and how far they'll go. So far, you've managed to push away everyone but Wilson and last I heard, even he was gone. I'm all you've got left and it's easier to push me away now than have me walk away. Now lie to my face and tell me I'm wrong.” She was trying to hurt him. She couldn’t stop herself. The best way to do that was to read him, to understand him. He hated that.
He frowned angrily and looked away, “My motives don't matter.”
“They matter to me.” She took looking away as a sign of defeat. She was glad. She hated it when he put a fight. “Damn it House, you matter to me, which makes me an idiot.”
“Oh, please. I'm just your new charity case,” he said, “You can't be in your profession and not want to save the world one misanthrope at a time.”
You know better than that.” Why the hell was he still fighting her on this? “You bet me into telling you why I really joined the police force. I like you, House, and not because I want to save you. I told you all this already. You were drunk, though, so...”
“I don't care.” It rolled off his tongue so easily she could actually believe it. He really didn’t care that she did. She tried to put away the personal pain and a study him like she would any other suspect.
“Liar. You're too stiff for telling the truth.”
“Doesn't change the fact that I want you out of my apartment.”
“I figured you wanted me out anyway. Just means you care I'm there.” She raised her chin slightly, even though she was getting tired of this. She didn’t have it in her right now to fight with him like she used to. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever have that back after Vincent. “Are we done making this about us? Because, seriously, what's wrong?”
“Where's a good door to slam in your face when I need one?” He was annoyed again and she bit down on the urge to scream at him.
“It's really annoying when someone's as stubborn as you are, isn't it?” She kept the anger though. “Get over it.”
“I have an even better solution.” He glanced at his watch, “Oh, look. It's almost time for a medical emergency. See ya.”
He turned abruptly and took off. The urge to go after him rose up, but… she couldn’t bring herself to go after him this time. She didn’t have it in her. Whatever part of her that made her fight him was just too tired these days to deal with it. She needed more time to heal before she started fighting him again. And if she was honest with herself she was just too hurt to want to go after him. So she left his apartment but she kept the key.
---
-Six-
Running a hand through her hair, Murphy gritted her teeth and bit the bullet, “Damn it. I was worried alright? You were in danger and there wasn't a damn thing I could do...”
She hated that. She’d been powerless to protect him while some crazed gunman had him and the whole hospital hostage. That idiot SWAT Lieutenant had refused her help too. She was confident if she had been running that operation, there would have been no need to blow the wall in and no one would have gotten shot. The disaster it turned into wouldn’t have happened. But she’d been stuck on the outside, hearing everything over the radio and waiting, just waiting for the call to come through that he’d been shot or killed. It still pissed her off and she was taking that anger out on him.
“And that would be the point we were both avoiding. Congratulations, you just saved Thirteen,” he said, breaking the awkward silence.
She turned the face him, noting how he was ready to leave. She wasn’t done with him though. She wasn’t done being angry. “But you didn’t.”
“I tried! I tried to save her! He wouldn’t listen!” He slammed his cane again the wall, the anger startling her. She hadn’t expected that. It made sense though. Usually when she was angry with him, he was angry with something in his life. God, this was screwed up.
“Because you put your answer first!” she yelled right back, taking a step towards him. “You wanted your answer badly enough to put her life on the line. Damn it House, tell me you see that! Tell me you see exactly what I see.”
He didn’t answer, didn’t look at her. He just glared at the floor. Frustration made her put herself right in front of him, determined to make him see what she saw. She was the only one who had a chance to get through to him. She was the only one who would fight with him until the bitter end.
“Fine, you don’t want to say it, I will.” She’d been saying every other near impossible thing in this fight anyway. She might as well continue the trend. “You were wrong and it almost cost someone their life. It’s going to eat at you. I don’t care what you say about being a selfish asshole, you’re not that selfish. I get it.”
She really did. The last time she’d been overconfident and wrong, she’d stabbed a man to death. “I’ve been there. I’m sorry but you made that choice and now you have to live with it. So stop beating yourself up over it. Idiot.”
His eyes came up and the anger made her tense. He wasn’t just angry, he was pissed. She’d never seen him like that before. She could almost believe he hated her right now, except beyond the anger she saw the fear. She’d hit the nail on the head. That’s why he was pissed at her. So she stood her ground and let him be pissed. There was someone in his life now who wasn’t afraid to make him see himself. He was either going to get used to it or be pissed off a lot.
“Fuck you.” The words are low and seething. They sting a little, but he’s done worse to her and said far worse too. He pushed her out of the way and walked quickly away from her. For a second, blind frustration made her want to walk in the other direction. He wanted her gone, fine, she’d go. Fuck him, fuck the whole damn complicated mess they were tangled up in. Screw it all. She’d go find a normal, simple, easy relationship and screw that one up instead of dealing with this crap, his crap.
But anger made her stubborn. She turned and followed him instead. She’d either get him to talk or kill him. It didn’t matter which at this point. She was sticking with him and he’d just have to deal with the consequences of that. She was already prepared for that.
[ooc: featuring cant_have_any, based on various role-plays]
-One-
Murphy was pissed off, not just angry or annoyed, but pissed off. The funny thing was, the more pissed she got, the more stubborn she became. Determined, she followed after House and fell into step with him. From the moment she’d found him in the bar, once again drinking himself stupid she’d been trying to get him out. He’d fought her every single agonizing step of the way, which was why she was pissed. God, the man was damn near impossible sober and drunk just seemed to make it worse. If she wasn’t such a stubborn cuss, she’d have left him behind.
“Stop following me,” he said without looking at her.
There was a spike of anger and a matching spike of stubbornness. “No.”
He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “Leave me the hell alone, Murphy. I’m not in the mood.”
“I don't give a damn what mood you're in,” she said, facing him with her arms crossed. “You're drunk and I'm not letting you out of my sights until I know you're safe. So, you can be as pissed and moody as you like, I'm not going anywhere. Deal with it.”
“Yeah, I'm drunk! I'm drunk for a reason and you stopping me from getting even more drunk is pissing me off! Excuse me if I'm not seeing the charity in your decision to annoy me.”
Now she was yelling. “I don't give a damn what your reason is, getting drunk this often is bad for you and I'm not going to let you do it!”
“It's not up to you! My body, my decision!”
He was right. He was a legal adult, way over the drinking age and he had every right to drink himself stupid. Why the hell did she care if he slowly poisoned himself? She should just walk away, leave him on his own to stumble home and screw it all. Her night would go a lot smoother if she just left him there to wallow in his pain and drunken stupor.
She wasn’t that type of woman however. He’d started a fight, and she didn’t back down from a fight. She didn’t back down from him.
“Then you can drink all you want when you get home.”
“You’re not coming home with me.”
“Try and stop me,” she challenged. He was going to be a pain in the ass, she was going to be one right back.
He glared at her, then dug through his pocket. The Vicodin bottle finally made its appearance. She waited while he took the pills. The drug habit was a whole other issue right now and one she’d deal with later.
“Good luck getting there,” he said after stuffing the pill bottle back in his pocket and turning back the way they’d come, back towards the same damn barn she’d dragged him out of.
“God, and I thought I wanted to kill Munzer,” she muttered under her breath, then gritted her teeth and stepped in his way. He towered over her, but she planted her feet, ready to get physical.
“I will handcuff you and drag you to my car if I have to, you know.” There was no room for argument in her tone. She was telling him the plain simple facts. She would do exactly as she said, come hell or high water or his damn stubborn ass.
“Just try it.”
That kicked up her ire. She hated being challenged. “I have dragged around bigger, stronger and way more drunk than you.” She had her handcuffs out before she even really thought about it. “I’m going to ask nicely that you come with me to my car, then I’m going to make you.”
He studied her, but she stayed unflinching. She was serious and he was going to respect that. To her surprised, he did. He frowned a looked away. He’d given in. She’d won.
“Fine. Do whatever the hell you want.”
Victory didn’t always feel good.
---
-Two-
“You’ve just sucked all the fun out of belittling people,” House grumbled slightly. Murphy watched him, head tilted slightly as he sat back and start kneading his thigh. He was in really bad pain tonight. She couldn’t remember any time she’d seen him like this. How much she didn’t like it shocked her. How much she wanted to help him was just her nature, but the unhappiness she felt at his pain was new and slightly uncomfortable.
“I know. It's my joy in life.” Even uncomfortable she went over to him and pushed his hands out of the way. He was never going to get the right angle. “Let me. I can do better.”
He jerked his leg again, and grabbed her hands tightly, keeping them far, far away from the scar she’d barely gotten a feel of. “No, Murphy, don’t.”
Not trying to help was not in her nature. Not trying to help him seemed to be becoming part of that nature too.
“House.” She caught his eyes, looking to see if he was really uncomfortable with her or if it was just another one of his defense mechanisms. “You really think it's going to bother me or change anything? Let me, please.”
He studied her for a long time, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t like being studied, especially by someone as observant as him but she let him. She didn’t know what he saw or what he made of her, but he let go of her hands and looked away.
“Let me know if I hurt you,” she spoke softly, not wanting to startle him again. She put her hands back on his leg, and began to work her fingers over the scar. It stunned her how much of the muscle was gone. She could feel how deep it went, except for a ridge that went down the middle of puckered skin and hard scar tissue. Her own leg muscle twitched in sympathy. She had seen it before, that one time they’d slept together, but had never really studied it.
She merged the memories she had with what her fingers told her and came up with a very ugly mental picture. She understood why he was looking away from her, why he was so tense. He didn’t want her to know. With something like this, when people knew, it had to change the way they treated him. She didn’t change a thing, she kept her fingers firm and didn’t shy away from the scar or the man that came with it.
---
-Three-
She was becoming part of the hospital Murphy realized. Even late at night, none of the staff was questioning her reasons for being there. Usually someone asked what she was doing. On the elevator ride up to House’s office she wondered if that was a good thing or just a sign that she really needed to make some friends outside Princeton-Plainsboro. There had to be someone inside the department she liked besides her partner.
She shook it off as she stepped off onto the correct floor and made her way down the hall to House’s office. The lights were off. She really hoped someone was there at least or else she was going to look like an idiot for showing up this late. She needed some time out of her office to think about this case and for some reason, taking over House’s office seemed like the perfect place to do that.
As she drew closer she caught the glow of something inside, then spotted him. House was curled up in his chair, asleep. It made her smile. Alright, so she couldn’t bounce ideas off of him, but at least he was there. She’d just leave the coffee she’d brought and go someplace else. There had to be a diner open somewhere with cheap coffee and good pie.
Quietly she opened the door and slipped inside, making sure to ease the door closed behind her. She set the coffee cup on the near-by shelves and then froze as he mumbled something in his sleep and shifted. She didn’t want to wake him. He looked like he needed the sleep. Even though it was pushing her look, she took a minute to study him. He was more relaxed in sleep, but there were still deep circles under his eyes and just a sense of exhaustion about him. Still, she was smiling. It just felt good to see him.
The change was gradual, but he was waking up. She mentally kicked herself as the tension returned to his face and his eyebrows drew together.
“This had better be something important.”
“I just brought you coffee,” she schooled her features into the blank expression all cops seemed to master. She wasn’t going to let him see she actually cared about him. No way in hell. “You can go back to sleep. Looks like you need it as much as me.”
He frowned like he wasn’t expecting her and rubbed a hand over his eyes before peering at her. “Murphy?” he paused to yawn and stretch, “What time is it?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Caught red handed. “Either really late at night or very early in the morning. Depends on your point of view.”
He squinted at his watch, then pulled out a pager squinting at that too before he tossed it onto the bookshelf. “Crap,” he muttered while rubbing at his eyes. She mentally winced in sympathy while he lowered his leg from the footstool.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said as she beat him to the Vicodin bottle and handed it over.
He shook his head, then downed a pill. “No, got a patient.”
After swallowing the pill he nodded towards the wall behind her. “I shouldn’t have been asleep for so long.”
She glanced behind her. The glow had come from a set of MRIs, at least she guessed they were MRIs, hanging on one of those lighted squares. She wondered if he’d just sat down to thinking about them and just fallen asleep.
“If you fell asleep, you needed the sleep. Relax, I don’t think you were asleep for long,” She said, looking back towards him. “How fast are they dying?”
He shrugged, “He could die in five minutes or give months. Depends on whether or not he really does have cancer.”
Murphy seriously thought working with already dead people had to be much easier than what he did. “Then you can catch a quick nap without feeling guilty. Here.” She took the coffee down from the bookshelf and held it out to him. “If you’re like me, you won’t go back to sleep until you know who did it. Or what’s killing this person in this case.”
That’s why she was still awake. She couldn’t sleep when she had a case on her mind. He took the coffee and took a sip.
“Thanks.” He glanced around her for a second, “Can’t do anything until the lab results come back.” He took another sip then focused on her again. “I’d scoot over but there’s only room for one.”
It was a weak joke at best, but she smiled a little. He was still House, even preoccupied and half-asleep. Why did she find that adorable? “You’re welcome. Nice of you to offer, but we’re both too tired for anything really fun.”
He nodded with a yawn. He was still adorable and that probably made her an idiot. He nudged the footstool, making some room. Her first instinct was to step back. She assumed he was going to get up and limp off somewhere.
“Have a seat,” he said, surprising her. “Mi casa es su casa.”
Even though this was the reason she’d come here, excuses to leave popped into her head. They were good excuses too. She really should get out of there before she did something stupid like try to smooth his hair down or offer to get him breakfast or let him see any of the affection she felt for him. She really didn’t want him to catch on that she honestly liked him. That would just be a disaster. Right now, when she thought he was adorable and she was feeling warm towards him would just lead to disaster. Leaving was the safest and smartest option.
Which was why she sat down on the offered stool and stayed.
---
-Four-
Murphy ached. Not just in her throat or her arm, but everywhere, deep down to what remained of her soul. She ached. Sitting in the back of the ambulance she looked down at the asphalt, unable to look anywhere but down. She was still sticky with Vincent’s blood, but he’d gone right to work, snapping her arm back in place, holding her steady while she recovered from the shock and pain. Everyone else handled her with kid gloves, as if she’d break apart any second. He had been firm, strong. She desperately needed that. She could feel him watching her, but she kept her eyes down, focusing on the sling.
“I killed him, you know,” she confessed. He had probably already figured that out but she needed to tell someone who could handle it. Right now, he was the stable one, he could handle the news she was still trying to process.
“Don’t care.”
She’d heard the honesty in his voice, but the almost gentle tone just increased the ache. Could he really not care that she’d killed a man? Would he still see her the same way as before? She was changed, different, and everyone was going to treat her that way. Except, maybe him.
“I do.” She sighed so she wouldn’t cry. Aching as she was, she didn’t want to cry in front of him. She didn’t want him to see how broken she really was. “That’s the most fucked up thing about this. I care.”
“He tried to kill you.” The frown was obvious in his tone and she dropped her eyes lower, guilty and ashamed.
“Yes. Two other times before this. And that’s why this is fucked up.”
“You’re an idiot.” His voice was quiet, still honest though. She felt the bubble of hysterical laughter build in her throat and swallowed hard to keep it down. He put something over her head and she realized it was his scarf, the bright red one. He’d made it into a sling. She watched his hands gently take her broken arm and lift it into the sling. He was careful with her as he set it down and made sure it was secure. The ache just increased.
She had never seen him like this in the long time she’d known him. He’d been stubborn. He’d been an ass. She’d seen some of his insecurities and vulnerabilities. She’d laughed with him and yelled at him, but she’d never seen tenderness or caring. She’d never seen him care for her. She wanted to believe it wasn’t just because she’d killed a man, but because he did actually care. She needed someone to care right now.
Finally, she lifted her eyes up and met his searching for something in them, a sign or a glimmer something to give her a reason for why she put up with him when he wasn’t like this. She just saw him. Apparently that was enough for her.
“I know.”
“Need anything else?”
She heard it in his voice, the offer for something more, something to lean on. Hundreds of answers filled her head. ‘Don’t leave’ sat on the tip of her tongue. She needed him to stay around, even if this was all the tenderness she ever saw from him. She needed the fights, the frustration, the brutal honesty he offered. She needed someone who understood what it was like to be broken. But because she knew him, she didn’t say it.
“Yes. But I don’t know what.” Liar.
“Yes, you do.” He studied her and she had to fight to let him. “You always know what you want.”
“I want...” she couldn’t say the rest of it. She just shook her head and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest. She just wanted to stay with him.
---
-Five-
“I want you out of my apartment.”
The hurt was swift and sudden. She didn’t understand it, so she pushed it aside and doggedly tried to get him back on track. “That has nothing to do with what's pissing you off. You're still avoiding the topic.”
“Hmm, and I wonder why that is...” House made a show of thinking hard, “Oh, yeah. Because it's none of your business. Funny how that works out, huh?”
“Hilarious. I'm cracking up.” Murphy narrowed her eyes at him. “I'll get out of your apartment when you tell me what's really wrong with you.”
Even if she didn’t want to leave.
“You'll get out of my apartment even if I have to hire burly movers to throw you out for me.”
“Broken arm or not, I can still take on guys twice my size.” She wasn’t going to give up that easy. She couldn’t give up that easy.
“Now, maybe you're having trouble remembering, but I've dragged your drunk ass out of bars, I've put up with you asking annoying questions about me killing a guy, and I've put up with you insulting me as well. I don't know where you got this delusion I'm going to give up just because you start being really mean, but kill it, because I'm not going anywhere. Even when you're at your worst.”
“When you put it like that it doesn't sound like there's a good reason for you to stick around so either you're just a glutton for punishment or you're a narcissist who thinks that she can control and fix everything around her.”
There was the hurt again. It was harder to ignore this time, but she wasn’t going to let him see that his barbs were hitting their mark. She had too much pride for that.
“Personally, I don't give a crap which it is; it doesn't change the fact that it's incredibly annoying, so I'll say this slowly so that you don't miss anything. I want you out of my apartment and out of my life.”
The anger with herself for being hurt and the anger that he could hurt her was much easier to go with. She focused on that and kept pressing her luck. “Go with whatever answer makes you the happiest, but let's turn this on you since you're the one with the problem.”
“You like testing people, seeing how far you can push them and how far they'll go. So far, you've managed to push away everyone but Wilson and last I heard, even he was gone. I'm all you've got left and it's easier to push me away now than have me walk away. Now lie to my face and tell me I'm wrong.” She was trying to hurt him. She couldn’t stop herself. The best way to do that was to read him, to understand him. He hated that.
He frowned angrily and looked away, “My motives don't matter.”
“They matter to me.” She took looking away as a sign of defeat. She was glad. She hated it when he put a fight. “Damn it House, you matter to me, which makes me an idiot.”
“Oh, please. I'm just your new charity case,” he said, “You can't be in your profession and not want to save the world one misanthrope at a time.”
You know better than that.” Why the hell was he still fighting her on this? “You bet me into telling you why I really joined the police force. I like you, House, and not because I want to save you. I told you all this already. You were drunk, though, so...”
“I don't care.” It rolled off his tongue so easily she could actually believe it. He really didn’t care that she did. She tried to put away the personal pain and a study him like she would any other suspect.
“Liar. You're too stiff for telling the truth.”
“Doesn't change the fact that I want you out of my apartment.”
“I figured you wanted me out anyway. Just means you care I'm there.” She raised her chin slightly, even though she was getting tired of this. She didn’t have it in her right now to fight with him like she used to. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever have that back after Vincent. “Are we done making this about us? Because, seriously, what's wrong?”
“Where's a good door to slam in your face when I need one?” He was annoyed again and she bit down on the urge to scream at him.
“It's really annoying when someone's as stubborn as you are, isn't it?” She kept the anger though. “Get over it.”
“I have an even better solution.” He glanced at his watch, “Oh, look. It's almost time for a medical emergency. See ya.”
He turned abruptly and took off. The urge to go after him rose up, but… she couldn’t bring herself to go after him this time. She didn’t have it in her. Whatever part of her that made her fight him was just too tired these days to deal with it. She needed more time to heal before she started fighting him again. And if she was honest with herself she was just too hurt to want to go after him. So she left his apartment but she kept the key.
---
-Six-
Running a hand through her hair, Murphy gritted her teeth and bit the bullet, “Damn it. I was worried alright? You were in danger and there wasn't a damn thing I could do...”
She hated that. She’d been powerless to protect him while some crazed gunman had him and the whole hospital hostage. That idiot SWAT Lieutenant had refused her help too. She was confident if she had been running that operation, there would have been no need to blow the wall in and no one would have gotten shot. The disaster it turned into wouldn’t have happened. But she’d been stuck on the outside, hearing everything over the radio and waiting, just waiting for the call to come through that he’d been shot or killed. It still pissed her off and she was taking that anger out on him.
“And that would be the point we were both avoiding. Congratulations, you just saved Thirteen,” he said, breaking the awkward silence.
She turned the face him, noting how he was ready to leave. She wasn’t done with him though. She wasn’t done being angry. “But you didn’t.”
“I tried! I tried to save her! He wouldn’t listen!” He slammed his cane again the wall, the anger startling her. She hadn’t expected that. It made sense though. Usually when she was angry with him, he was angry with something in his life. God, this was screwed up.
“Because you put your answer first!” she yelled right back, taking a step towards him. “You wanted your answer badly enough to put her life on the line. Damn it House, tell me you see that! Tell me you see exactly what I see.”
He didn’t answer, didn’t look at her. He just glared at the floor. Frustration made her put herself right in front of him, determined to make him see what she saw. She was the only one who had a chance to get through to him. She was the only one who would fight with him until the bitter end.
“Fine, you don’t want to say it, I will.” She’d been saying every other near impossible thing in this fight anyway. She might as well continue the trend. “You were wrong and it almost cost someone their life. It’s going to eat at you. I don’t care what you say about being a selfish asshole, you’re not that selfish. I get it.”
She really did. The last time she’d been overconfident and wrong, she’d stabbed a man to death. “I’ve been there. I’m sorry but you made that choice and now you have to live with it. So stop beating yourself up over it. Idiot.”
His eyes came up and the anger made her tense. He wasn’t just angry, he was pissed. She’d never seen him like that before. She could almost believe he hated her right now, except beyond the anger she saw the fear. She’d hit the nail on the head. That’s why he was pissed at her. So she stood her ground and let him be pissed. There was someone in his life now who wasn’t afraid to make him see himself. He was either going to get used to it or be pissed off a lot.
“Fuck you.” The words are low and seething. They sting a little, but he’s done worse to her and said far worse too. He pushed her out of the way and walked quickly away from her. For a second, blind frustration made her want to walk in the other direction. He wanted her gone, fine, she’d go. Fuck him, fuck the whole damn complicated mess they were tangled up in. Screw it all. She’d go find a normal, simple, easy relationship and screw that one up instead of dealing with this crap, his crap.
But anger made her stubborn. She turned and followed him instead. She’d either get him to talk or kill him. It didn’t matter which at this point. She was sticking with him and he’d just have to deal with the consequences of that. She was already prepared for that.