Chapter 8

Breakfast Delayed

It didn't surprise her that there was no knock on the door at nine, but when ten rolled around and there was still no knock and no phone call, she started to get angry. The least Susan could have done was called and cancelled. In fact, it was so unlike Susan to just blow her off that Finley decided to call and give her a piece of her mind. Susan didn't pick up her cell. She tried the land line but got a busy signal. By eleven Finley had decided to give them both hell and so she marched up the three floors and banged on the door. No one answered.

"Susan?" Finley called out. There was no response. Finley decided that she would leave a message so she went back down to the apartment and grabbed her key to Susan's apartment and went back up. Opening the door, the alarm started to beep. She plugged in the code and it stopped beeping, but then there was the sound of a voice in the bedroom. It was House's.

"Susan? Susan? Susan?"

The panic in his voice scared Finley, she ran down the hall and threw the bedroom door open. At first she didn't realize the screaming was coming from her until House screamed back.

"Shut the fuck up and call 911!" House paused and the screamed again. "Now!'

Finley took out her cell and dialed 911 as House pressed his fingers to Susan's throat to find a pulse. Finley had to sit down. The blood from the wound had soaked through the sheets and had begun to run down the side of the bed and onto the floor.

"Is she breathing?" Finley asked after hanging up. Making her way over to the bed, she pulled the sheet down. Her friend was opaque, her frozen face contorted in pain.

"Barely. Her pulse is thready and she's lost a lot of blood. Where the hell are the parmedics?"

"Why did you do this to her?"

"Me? I didn't stab her! Christ, I just woke up and found her like this."

Finley didn't know what to think. Her best friend had a butcher's knife sticking out of her chest and her boyfriend had slept through it? It didn't make sense unless it was her boyfriend who had stabbed her. Finley continued examining Susan, noting that the handle of the blade was pulsing with the beat of Susan's heart.

"Christ, I feel helpless." House said.

"Just keep pressure around the wounds to slow the bleeding. It may not be in her heart, but her lung, she's slightly blue around her lips." Finley felt as if she was in a movie, time and everything around her seemed to be passing in slow motion.

They heard the sound of the ambulance as it pulled up to the building. Finley let the paramedics into the apartment. "In here. Don't touch the knife; we need to get an x-ray to see if it can be removed without first cracking her open."

The paramedics turned into the bedroom. "Holy mother of God! That's a lot of blood. She's still alive?"

House and Finley both nodded. House, who had been placing pressure around the knife backed off to let the paramedics take her. The blood began to flow until the paramedic put pressure to the area around the wound. Finley wasn't sure why, but she asked the paramedics to hand her a needle and tube to take a sample of blood.

"I can't do that lady."

"I'm a cardiac surgeon, Doctor Finley Doyle, this is Dr. Gregory House and that's Dr. Susan Friday."

"I recognize Dr. House." The one with a distinctive New York accent commented.

"Then give me a vial and a needle, now." Finley growled.

The paramedic fished around and handed it to her. Finley turned to House and motioned for him to give her his arm as they moved Susan onto the gurney.

"House, I need a sample of your blood, now."

House was concentrating on Susan and unaware that Finley was talking to him. Finley slapped House across the upper arm. He turned, his eyes flashing at her in anger.

"What?"

"Blood, I need to take a vial of your blood now."

"Why?"

"Look, you just need to trust me on this."

House stared deep into Finley's grey eyes and finally nodded. Finley found a vein and pulled blood for testing as the paramedics rolled Susan out the door. Susan ran to the refrigerator and grabbed some ice, threw the ice and the tube in with it. She could hear House arguing with someone about accompanying Susan to the hospital Running back into the bedroom, she found two police officers standing and talking to a nude House while a photographer took photos of the crime scene.

"Who are you? " A voice behind her asked.

Finley turned to find a woman with a badge on her suit coat.

"Finley Doyle, Susan's best friend."

"Ms. Doyle, I'm Detective Hampson. Why don't you come with me out to the living room while this gentleman gets dressed."

Finley almost corrected her, letting her know that House was no gentleman, but realized that this wasn't the time to joke around, even if she meant it.

Finley went with the detective out to the living room. "Detective, I'm a surgeon that specializes in the type of surgery that Susan needs. I really need to get down to the hospital. Can we talk about this in the car? Can you give me a police escort to the hospital?"

The detective accommodated her once a phone call was made to PPTH. Finley rode in the officer's car, sirens blaring all the way to PPTH. On the way down, Finley gave the detective the short version of events-- the fight the night before, the promise to go to breakfast, the failure of Susan to show up, Finley's entry into the apartment and discovery of Susan's wound and House trying to stem the bleeding.

"You said that you had to turn off the alarm, right?" Hampson asked.

"Yes, the alarm was set and I had to disarm it when I came inside."

"Hmmm." The detective said.

She knew what that meant. It meant that House was the main—no—only suspect. Finley had to admit, she wanted it to be him. She wanted him to be out of her life forever, but her gut said he didn't do it. Her gut was pretty loud.

"Detective, I don't think House did it. I'm not a fan of his, but he's not the kind to up and stab someone. He's much more the torture you into submission type."

"Maybe she wouldn't submit." The detective opined.

"No, their relationship wasn't like that. He's an ass, but not a bludgeoner."

When we got to the hospital, I immediately slipped the zip lock bag to a very nervous and anxious Cuddy who had met us at the front door. I whispered into her ear. "This is House's blood. Run it for every drug that could knock you out and keep you from hearing someone in the room with you."

Cuddy nodded without saying anything to tip off the police who were following the two doctors as they ran down the corridors to surgery only to be met by the chief of police who had his hand extended in a 'stop' motion.

"I'm sorry Dr. Doyle, but we can't let you perform the surgery."

Cuddy's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"I'm sorry, but Dr. Doyle is a suspect. We can't let her have a second shot if she is the attacker or co-conspirator."

"I'm not going to kill my best friend! I'm going to save her!" I pushed past the idiot and started to scrub in the prep room.

He yelled through the door. "How do we know that you weren't jealous of Susan? That she managed to steel Dr. House from you or you wanted him for yourself?"

I heard Cuddy started howling with laughter. "Oh, I'm sorry. I know this is serious, but if you only knew how much House and Dr. Doyle hate each other."

"Dr. Cuddy, get out of my way. I need to stop her."

I heard what sounded like a bit of a struggle with the door pushing in slightly and then closing again.

"I'm afraid you can't. Dr. Friday has less than fifteen minutes to live. They're opening her chest as we speak. Dr. Doyle is her only hope. If you stop it, you'll be the one guilty of murder."

The sounds of struggle stopped and I continued until I was ready to enter the operating room. When I got inside the operating room, I looked up to the observatory and saw the police chief, Dr. Cuddy, the detectives and several others including James Wilson.

My assistant, Dr. Robert Chase, shook his head. "She's lost a lot of blood."

"Yeah." I immediately went to work suturing a bleeding nick to the right anterior ventricle. I then repaired the remaining wound around the heart. It took me two hours to do it properly and to find all the damage. I was focused, unable to let myself even think about who was under my knife. The minute I started thinking about Susan, I could feel my focus leave me and my hands started to shake.

"Finley." Chase said calmly. "There's another bleeder."

His voice brought me back and I focused once again on what I was doing. "Yes. I've got it."

We patched her up and sent her to recovery. I walked out of the surgery and immediately a detective grabbed my elbow. "Could you come with us? We need to talk to you."

"Look, I'm in no condition to be interviewed. I need some rest."

"I'm afraid we really need your help. We need you to sign the statement saying that the alarm was still set when you entered."

"Why such a hurry?"

"We want to arrest Dr. House. His fingerprints were on the knife."

"Of course they are, he examined her and the knife to see if it could be removed."

"Well, that's one version."

"He didn't do it."

"How do you know?"

"Dr. House is a real jerk, a total asshole, but he's not a violent man."

"Oh really? Are you aware that he hit his own employee? He's hit others too. And he's been hit several times by others. And he's been arrested for drugs before."

"Yes, but that's not the same as intentionally thrusting a knife into your girlfriend's heart, is it?"

"We just need your signature."

"Fine."

I went to the station and of course they spent an hour interrogating me despite my protests that I wanted to go home and sleep. In the meantime, Greg House was arrested. I saw him being removed from a room in handcuffs. He looked over at me and shrugged, somewhat defeated.

"Greg!" I yelled out, but the female detective put a hand on my shoulder and guided me away.

I walked out to the foyer and saw both Cuddy and Wilson sitting, waiting. "What's going on?" I asked.

"We're waiting for the lawyer. They're going to arraign House by phone."

"I'll wait with you."

"That was a wonderful piece of work that you did on Susan." Wilson said.

"Thanks. I think I may have gotten House arrested. I signed a statement that the alarm was on when I unlocked the front door this morning."

The attorney walked out from the holding area. He was a handsome African-American lawyer who seemed very much in control. "House was arraigned on second degree murder and bail has been set at $2.0 million."

"Two million?" Cuddy exclaimed.

"You'll need $200,000 to secure a bond." His attorney warned.

"I'll get it." I said. "The equity in my loft is close to $400,000."

The jaw dropping looks I got from Cuddy and Wilson made me laugh.

"Look, he's a safe bet and since I don't think he did it, I'm willing to put my money where my mouth is."

The attorney looked at me. "You're Dr. Doyle, right?"

I nodded.

"They may see posting bail for Dr. House as part of a conspiracy."

"I'm willing to take that chance. He didn't do it."

"You must be close friends."

There was snickering from Wilson and Cuddy.

"No, we don't even like each other."

Wilson spoke up. "I can help."

"Great." I said.

Between Wilson and I, we had a bond secured by seven that evening. House was released to us. He walked out of the holding area, the sound of metal doors clanging behind him and out to the lobby without his cane, which had been taken away from him. One of the cops walked out and handed it to him. House was looking anxious and exhausted

Walking up to Wilson and me, the first thing he asked was, "How's Susan doing?"

"I just got off the phone with Chase. The surgery went well, but she hasn't come to. She lost a lot of blood and is on her third unit." I said, observing the fact that he looked distraught.

House rubbed his forehead and nodded that he understood. We piled into Wilson's car and went back to the lofts. Upstairs, Susan's loft was marked with police tape. House pulled it off and opened the door with his key. We followed him inside and as we turned the corner into the bedroom, we all stopped and stared at the brick red blood on the bedding and floor. A chalk mark had been drawn around it .

"I'll make sure it's cleaned up." I went over to the dresser. "Come on, Greg, get your things, you can't stay here. The police haven't cleared it. Do you still have your apartment?"

"No, it's subleased."

I sighed and shook my head. "Well, Wilson's niece is still at his place so you'll have to come stay with me."

House did a double take. "You? You?"

Wilson stepped in. "House, Finley put up half the $200,000 for your bail."

"Why?" He asked more as an accusation than a question.

"I don't think you did it."

"Then you did."

I gasped. "What?"

"You and I were the only ones in that apartment when I woke up."

"And why would I kill her? You're the one in bed with her, prints on the knife and with several witnesses who heard you two fighting the night before."

He shut up and went over to help me grab some of his clothes. Under his breath he mumbled. "I didn't try to kill her."

I whispered back. "I know. That's why I'm willing to let you stay with me. It will give us a chance to brainstorm."

He gave me a curt nod and then we packed up, ready to leave. As we were about to walk out the door, House ran back into the house and grabbed the telephone receiver and brought it with him. We all went down to my place and had drinks.

"Why the receiver?"

"It lists the phone numbers of all the incoming call for the last few weeks."

"Okay, but what's that going to tell us?'

He rolled his eyes. "Who called. We know who she called from her phone bill, I grabbed it from the desk and I can look it up online. But, this will tell us who phoned her."

"Smart thinking." I said.

Once we were in my apartment, Wilson didn't bother to sit. "I have to get into the hospital. I should have been there an hour ago; I have a patient that's having a bad reaction to the chemotherapy. I'll be back later."

I nodded and watched as Wilson took off. House had gone to the restroom to take a shower.

"Where's Wilson?"

"Patient. I made you some dinner, Jumbalaya and a beer. I hope that works for you?"

"I'm starved. Thanks."

I watched as he sat at the island and began to eat without saying anyting. His wet hair revealed just how thin it was. But he still looked handsome, virile in his blue t-shirt and muscled arms. Out of the blue, I wondered if he was gentle in bed? I could only imagine that Susan felt safe in those masculine arms. Still, he couldn't keep her safe. Someone had managed to incapacitate him and stab her.

"When you woke up, did you feel groggy?"

"You mean, did someone drug me?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure someone did. I had a hard time differentiating between sleep and being awake. I'm pretty sure I touched the weapon, thought about pulling it out, but then I came to my senses—woke up, and the doctor in me took over."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Making love, getting up to flush the condom and then feeling very sleepy."

It was more information that I thought I was entitled to, but I could see he was piecing it together in his head.

"What did you ingest before going to bed?"

He looked up from the plate towards me, but wasn't really looking at me. "We had some wine that she had opened for the slumber party…the red."

I looked at him and we both jumped up. "The cork, we need the cork."

"We need the bottle."

I grabbed my keys and a flashlight. We took the elevator and then opened the door, rushing straight to the kitchen. I grabbed a plastic bag and waited as House rummaged through the trash can. He found the cork, picking it out and throwing it in the bag. Standing up, he began to look around.

"The bottle's not in there."

"Someone took the bottle?"

He nodded.

"Oh, wow. That gives me the heebie jeebies."

He frowned, "The what?"

"Nothing. We need to get that cork to a lab and see if they find traces of anything in it. Was there anything else you had?"

He opened the refrigerator and looked around. "I had some cheese, a piece."

"Grab it and put it in the bag."

He threw the chunk of Irish cheddar into the bag and then turned to me. "Nothing else."

"Let's go."