A loud bang – the janitor's cart hitting the window of his office – woke House, and he realised he'd been deeply and properly asleep for the first time since he'd left Kitty's bedside. His head had lolled to the side and there was a little trail of drool from his mouth. He had that confused, muddle-headed feeling of being momentarily unable to recall where he was. Once it all flooded back, though, he half-wished it had stayed away.
He checked his watch: eight-thirty. His team were all in the conference room – the blinds were drawn, someone must have done that while he'd been asleep – but he could see people moving around through the cracks. He figured Kitty must still be in the same condition – if anything had changed someone would have come to wake him.
Coffee.
Further thought about what to do next had to wait until after caffeine.
He got up and instantly sat down again, his leg in spasm from sleeping the night in a chair. Not to mention walking around the fundraiser and the standing-up sex with Kitty before that. Using his cane, he hooked his jacket from over the back of the desk chair where he'd thrown it the night before and turned the jacket upside down and shook it. Three vials of drugs fell out: Vicodin, Viagra and Nitrostat, Kitty's medication. He once again felt that sick feeling of dread, recalling how easily Miranda had poisoned Kitty. He threw the Nitrostat and the Viagra across the room in a futile fury and then dry-swallowed two Vicodin. After rubbing his leg for a couple of minutes, the drug began to kick in and he felt it safe to try standing again.
Pushing open the adjoining door to the conference room, he blinked in the light streaming through the windows.
"I didn't realise it was formal dress code today," Foreman quipped.
House looked down at himself. Too tired to be bothered to change even into scrubs, he was still wearing his black pants and white, French-cuffed shirt, his undone bow-tie still hanging around his neck. It was all pretty crumpled though. Just as Kitty had wanted, a voice reminded him. Although he doubted she'd imagined it might happen like this.
"Shut up," House said, too tired to come up with anything snappier. "Coffee." He slumped into a chair at the end of the table.
Taub gave him a weird look, but got up to pour him some, adding a little extra sugar, House was pleased to note. "Thirteen brought in some doughnuts if you'd like one," he offered as he put the cup down on the table.
House nodded. "Jelly."
Thirteen pushed a white box towards him.
"So," Foreman said after a moment of silence while the whole team seemed to watch House sip his coffee and bite into a doughnut. "Where's the file?"
House frowned.
"I'm assuming you snagged some mystery patient at that shindig you disappeared to last night and for some reason decided not to call us out of our beds?"
"Not exactly," House said, his words barely discernible through his mouthful.
"Dr House?" A smartly dressed man with Italian shoes and a leather briefcase confidently opened the conference room door. "Seth Bannister," he said, striding forward, his hand held out.
House didn't take the lawyer's proffered hand, just gave it a withering look before taking anther bite of his doughnut.
The lawyer seemed unfazed, he lowered his hand and gave House a tight smile. "How is Ms Brecht doing this morning?"
House narrowed his eyes, trying to ascertain if the lawyer was genuinely interested or simply playing him. Without taking his eyes from the other man, House spoke to his team. "Go get me a status update on Catherine Brecht in the ICU."
House wasn't sure if it was a fluke, or simply eagerness to escape the sudden tension in the room, but all three doctors rose without question and left. As soon as they were gone, Seth Bannister took a seat.
House took another bite of his doughnut and chewed thoughtfully. "She's still alive, as far as I know," he answered eventually.
For a moment the lawyer's professional facade dropped. "I'm very sorry for what happened. I told both Andrew and Rachael several times that I felt Miranda required ongoing professional help, but I think they both refused to see how sick she was. She has been institutionalised a few times, but each time she appeared to recover and was released. Despite that, no one ever suspected she could be a danger to herself or anyone else. I'm afraid Andrew's death tipped her over the edge."
"Did he abuse her?"
Bannister shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "No, I don't think . . ." The lawyer cleared his throat as if belated realising it was probably something he shouldn't comment on. "But I don't think Andrew was always the best father he could have been." He gave House a look that said a lot more than his words.
House snorted. "Nicely weaselled out of."
"Look Dr House, I don't know exactly what went on in that family. But I do know that he wasn't Miranda's biological father."
"What?"
"I shouldn't be telling you this, but Rachael had an affair and Miranda was the offspring. I have often thought that Andrew's affair with your mother was part revenge."
House swallowed hard. Knowing that made him ten times more relieved that he hadn't contacted his mother about any of this yet. "He was just an asshole all round, wasn't he? What a fucked up family."
"The thing is, Dr House, you now have some big decisions to make."
"What do you mean?"
"You know that Andrew put some conditions on his bequests to you and Kitty?"
House gave the lawyer a "duh" expression.
"Well, he also put conditions on his bequests to the rest of the family."
House rubbed his temples. He could feel the beginnings of a headache and he had to admit that a part of his brain was ignoring the lawyer's words and was entirely tuned on hearing the footsteps in the corridor outside that would mark the return of his team and news of Kitty's status. Trying to devote brain power to thinking about Andrew Barnes's last will and testament seemed increasingly difficult and he wondered why he was bothering anyway. He picked up his coffee and drained almost half of the still-steaming liquid, ignoring the burn in his throat.
"What conditions?" House asked eventually, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
"That you be treated like a member of the family. That Denis, Miranda and Rachael – especially Rachael – treat you with respect, kindness and love."
House pulled a face. "You can't really expect me to believe that he thought he could will that to happen. You can't demand people love someone." But even as he refuted the sense of what the lawyer was saying, he remembered the will reading. The strange, unsettling welcome he'd received. Affection, even. The fact that it had been faked wasn't all that surprising to House, what was surprising was that he hadn't picked it at the time.
"No, Dr House, you're right. But Andrew was disappointed that his family refused to let him contact you – to let him bring you into their lives. Rachael, in particular, was set against it. To be honest, I think his wishes are nothing more than petty revenge, but then my value judgements mean nothing here. So he told them to welcome you with open arms, to treat you as a long-lost family member. Or else," Bannister finished ominously.
"For fuck's sake get to the point," House said, irritated with the lawyer's indirectness.
"According to Andrew's will, if his family do anything to cause you unhappiness, his entire fortune is to be redirected to you."
House took another sip of coffee. He really didn't know what to say.
"It is my understanding that you and Kitty have become . . . close. So in my opinion, Miranda's actions contravene Andrew's stipulations."
"How do you know Kitty and I are together?" House said, ignoring the implications of the lawyer's words.
"We had to keep an eye on the situation to ensure the will conditions were being met," the lawyer hedged. "Certain other details came to light as we conducted that investigation."
"You spied on us?" House was certain that if he hadn't been so tired, he would have punched the other man by now.
Seth Bannister clearly saw the anger in House's eyes and he held up a mollifying hand. "Look Dr House, the important thing to focus on here are that you are now a very wealthy man. And Ms Brecht's recovery too, of course," he added hastily. "I have some papers here for you to look at and sign regarding Andrew's fortune." He pulled his briefcase onto his lap and opened it.
"Forget it. I'm not interested."
"But Dr House—"
"The patient is stable but still unconscious." Thirteen's brisk update interrupted the lawyer and House had never been more grateful to see her. "And Cuddy says that if you're awake you're to get your ass down there now."
"That's my boss," House said. "I'd better go." He stood up, ignoring Thirteen's astonished expression.
"But Dr House—" the lawyer said again, holding papers towards him.
"I'm not signing anything. They can live in limbo for a while waiting to find out what I do. That's only just approaching the kind of punishment they deserve."
House rose and strode out of the room as fast as he could. He wasn't necessarily all that keen to get to Kitty's bedside – knowing he'd just feel helpless and hopeless waiting there – but it was better than the alternative.
-
-
In the ICU, patients were generally only permitted one visitor at a time – if at all. Kitty's bedside was rather crowded in comparison. The cardiologist was there, intently concentrating on the strip from the heart monitor, and a nurse was changing her IV. Cuddy stood at the end of the bed, wringing her hands and looking as devastated as she had last night. Sitting in a chair with puffy eyes and a tuxedo almost as wrinkled as House's own was Steve Grosvenor, evidence of a sleepless night. His hand rested over Kitty's on the bed, provoking a surge of jealousy and guilt in House. This man had stayed with Kitty through the night while House hadn't. Perhaps he deserved her more.
"House," Cuddy said, the relief in her voice evident as she saw his approach.
Grosvenor turned his head and gave House a weak smile and a nod, but didn't move his hand. He was either extremely confident or – had House misinterpreted his affection? Given what had happened to Kitty it was easy to jump to the wrong conclusions, but perhaps Grosvenor there out of a genuine fatherly-like concern?
"How's she doing?" House asked gruffly, telling himself to concentrate. Getting jealous wasn't exactly productive at this point, whether it was warranted or not.
"She's been stable through the night," the cardiologist answered. "No arrhythmia and no more bradycardia. Her blood pressure seems to have stabilised around ninety over sixty. I'd like it to be a little higher, but that's not too bad."
"She seems to generally have low blood pressure," House said.
The cardiologist nodded. "I'm not too unhappy with it."
"The dialysis?" House asked, noting the machine was no longer there.
"They took her off it about an hour ago when her tox screen came up clean," Grosvenor said, speaking for the first time.
"So we just have to wait," Cuddy finished. The cardiologist gave them what House supposed was meant to be a reassuring smile, but it looked more like a grimace. The nurse completed her tasks, updated the chart and both she and the specialist left.
"Just have to wait," House echoed. He grabbed the seat that Wilson had dragged over and sat down in it heavily.
"Here, let's swap places." Grosvenor got up and offered the chair closer to Kitty's bedside to House.
"No I—" House fished about, trying to find some way to explain that he didn't want to sit and hold her hand.
"—Your place is here. With her." He put a hand on House's shoulder and gave him a firm stare. "I have to go home and change anyway. I need to go to work. Look after her and call me if anything changes. My wife's going to come in this afternoon and I'll come back as soon as I can."
House simply nodded and any jealousy he might have felt evaporated as he watched the man leave. Grosvenor might love Kitty, but it certainly wasn't in that way. But now House felt obliged to accept the chair the other man had vacated, even though he hadn't wanted to play the worried patient's family member. Cuddy sat down next to him, effectively trapping him.
"House, I'm sure she was only down for two or three minutes at the most. We were doing CPR the whole time. I'm sure she's going to be okay." Cuddy put a hand on his arm.
"Yeah? Who are you trying to make feel better here? You or me?"
Cuddy's soothing hand made a quick retreat. She stood up. "I'll come back to check on you through the day. Let me know if you need anything." Her tones were clipped; he knew he'd got to her.
Before Cuddy had taken a step both of them heard a rustle in the bed. Kitty's arm raised and her hand touched her chest, fingertips going straight to one of the monitors stuck with tape to her.
"Catherine?" Cuddy asked, quickly stepping up to the bed.
"Kitty," House said, as if he was correcting her, but really he just wanted to say her name.
"Kitty, can you hear me?" Cuddy grabbed a penlight and lifted Kitty's eyelids to check her pupil response.
"Thirsty," Kitty mumbled.
"Thirsty?" House asked sarcastically. "After all those litres of fluids we've pumped into you?"
"She means her mouth is dry, House. Get some water," Cuddy ordered.
"Isn't that what nurses are for?"
Before House had even got all the words out of his mouth a nearby nurse who'd overheard appeared with some water and an irritated expression.
"Greg. I—" Kitty's hoarse voice broke. "What happened?"
House waited until the nurse and Cuddy had helped Kitty take a couple of sips of water. Suddenly it was too much to pretend to be unaffected. Hearing her say his name made his heart clench in realisation that he really hadn't known if he'd ever hear it again. He didn't know why, but for some reason he no longer cared if he made his affection and worry evident.
"Shh, Kitty." He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his, stopping her from exploring the monitors stuck to her. With his other hand, he brushed the hair back from her face.
"What happened?" she asked again, her eyes blinking open, but finding House's face and focusing on them.
"You had a heart attack," Cuddy answered. "Your drink was spiked and the drug that was put in it interacted with your angina medication."
"Drink spiking?" Kitty seemed confused and irritated. "Who else . . . ?"
"It was just you," House said interrupting, knowing that Kitty would be concerned about other guests. "Miranda Barnes put Viagra in your wine. In combination with the Imdur, it gave you severe hypotension and stopped your heart."
"Miranda?"
"She was trying to kill you."
"No . . ." Kitty frowned. "Why? Why would she do something like that?"
"Because she's mental," House said with his typical bluntness.
Cuddy made an irritated noise. "She's being assessed for psychiatric illness," she said. "We don't know exactly what's wrong with her."
"But she can't hurt you again," House said firmly.
Kitty smiled uncertainly and then shifted in the bed, trying to face him. As she moved, she let out a yelp of pain.
"What is it? Where does it hurt?" Cuddy asked frantically.
"My chest."
Both Cuddy and House's eyes went to the heart monitor which was quietly declaring a stable, although slightly elevated sinus rhythm.
"Like angina?" Cuddy asked, clearly still suspicious even with the evidence right in front of her.
Kitty shook her head. "No. More like aching pain."
"We had to shock your heart, Kitty," House explained. "Your muscles will be sore. And you've possibly got a couple of cracked ribs from the CPR."
Kitty nodded and closed her eyes again. Her grip on House's hand tightened. "I'm tired."
"We'll let you sleep," Cuddy said. She gave House a relieved smile and walked away.
House made to get up and Kitty's eyes flew open again.
"Don't leave me," she pleaded.
"Kitty, I—"
"Please." Tears welled in her eyes.
"Kitty, I'm just going to sit in the chair. I won't leave."
She gave him a watery smile. "It's just . . . I'll sleep better knowing you're there."
"I won't leave," House said again, settling down into the chair, still holding his hand in hers.
It was a while before her grasp relaxed and House knew she was sleeping. But he still held it, knowing he looked like any ordinary, worried family member. Lord knew what the hospital grapevine would make of it. For once, he didn't care.
-
-
Later that afternoon Kitty was transferred out of ICU to the cardiology ward. She'd slept most of the day but she still felt overwhelmingly exhausted, the worst case of jet-lag she'd ever had. House was true to his word and every time she opened her eyes he was there, playing his PSP, reading, or dozing, but there. Still even wearing his now totally dishevelled tux. He stayed by her side as they wheeled her to the new ward, then took charge of reorganising all the monitors she seemed to be attached to. Kitty didn't miss the annoyed looks on the nurses' faces, but she got a sense of security from knowing he was looking after her. He looked exhausted and drained, but it seemed he was keeping up a steady stream of silly conversation and barbed comments with her, or whoever else was a round whenever she was awake enough to listen.
"Is there anything else you'd like to hook me up to?" Kitty asked, exasperated after he made yet another adjustment to something. "The state's power grid? The TiVo?"
"Just keeping you sparky," he said with a cheeky grin. He pressed a sticky monitor point just below her collarbone and then lowered his hand to take her breast and give it a quick, firm squeeze.
"Greg!" Kitty looked around and saw the disgusted look on the nurse who was making notes on her chart.
"Breasts are fine, nurse, make a note of that."
"Catherine Brecht?" A man in a cheap, shiny suit and a tired-looking woman appeared in the doorway. "We're detectives – we need to ask you some questions about what happened last night."
"She's not ready for questioning," House said, his tone firm.
"And are you her doctor?" the female detective asked, one eyebrow raised.
"No, he's not," Kitty said.
House frowned at her.
"Greg, I'd just rather get this over and done with. It's going to have to happen at some point, and I don't want it hanging over me."
House gave her a clipped nod, clearly unhappy with her decision but letting her go ahead anyway. He turned to the detectives who'd approached the bedside. "Don't wear her out or get her upset. She had a heart attack last night and it's important her heart rate stays stable."
"Understood," the male detective said. "She called you Greg. Are you Greg House?"
"Last time I checked."
"Good. I'm glad you're here, we need to talk to you too. Now, Kitty, I'm Detective Byatt and this is Detective Carey." The woman gave her a short nod as her partner introduced her.
They asked Kitty for her recollection of the previous night and she did her best to remember it all. She told them about sitting next to Miranda, and about the brief, but intense, conversation they'd had. She remembered Miranda accusing her of stealing her father away from her. Then she remembered the speeches, and going to the bathrooms with Cuddy, but after that it all got very fuzzy.
"Just before you passed out you said your wine tasted funny," House prompted.
"Did I?" Kitty didn't remember saying that, but she did remember the wine. "I definitely remember the wine tasting off. And it was gritty. I just thought it was bad wine and I got the dregs from the bottom of the bottle."
"And Dr Cuddy has told us that she although she didn't see Miranda Barnes put the drug in your drink, she did see her place the wine glass on the table in front of your seat," Detective Carey noted.
"Thanks Ms Brecht for your cooperation," Detective Byatt said before turning to House. "Dr House, Dr Wilson told us you have the threats that were delivered to your office?"
"Threats?" Kitty asked. "What threats?"
House shrugged. "I just got a couple of strange messages at my office."
"Strange like how?"
House grabbed the folder that he'd stashed under the chair next to Kitty's bed and pulled out the two envelopes. He'd had Wilson go to his apartment to collect the first one, knowing that the police would want to see it.
"I think this one is evidence that Miranda knew about Kitty's heart condition and about the medication she takes." House pulled out the piece of paper that mentioned Kitty's broken heart and lay it on the bed. Both detectives leaned over to look at it.
"And this one . . . well, I don't know what this one means." He pulled out the second piece of paper. "Oh, and this came with it." He tipped the envelope out and the gold chain and cat charm fell onto the bed.
"Kitty Kat!" Kitty cried.
"What?" Everyone in the room seemed to ask the same thing at the same time.
Kitty picked up the chain and held it up to the light. "I called it Kitty Kat. Andrew bought this for me when my mother died. It was stolen from my apartment about a year later. It was a weird break-in, the police found forced entry, but nothing else was stolen except this and some of my angina medication. They decided that a neighbour or someone must have come along and scared them away before they'd had a chance to get anything else."
"Looks like Miranda stole it," House mused.
"Ms Brecht, can you remember the details of that robbery? Your address at the time?" Detective Carey asked.
Kitty gave them an upper west-side address and, after a few more questions – and collecting the messages and the chain as evidence – the detectives left.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me about those threats," Kitty said.
House sat down heavily. "I really wish I had now. I wish I'd taken them more seriously. If I had, you might . . ."
"We can't change what happened," Kitty interrupted. "And even if you had told me, we never would have imagined Miranda was behind it."
"No, that's true." House shook his head. She was right, he knew, but it somehow didn't lessen the guilt he was feeling. "I didn't tell you about them because I got the first one on Monday – and our Monday night turned out to be quite eventful, if you'll remember."
Kitty nodded.
"And I got the one with the cat chain yesterday. You were already so stressed out with the fundraiser, I didn't want to worry you. But I was going to tell you after that."
Kitty was silent for a while. "I can't believe that she seriously wanted to kill me. I don't know what I did to be so important in her life."
"Nothing," House said, grasping her hand and holding it tight. "You did nothing. This was all her game, nothing to do with you. Don't let it get to you."
Kitty took in a deep breath. House was glad to see that the interview with the police and all the conversation had only slightly elevated her heart rate. But she looked pale and drawn.
"I'm so tired," Kitty said eventually, blinking against heavy eyelids.
"I know, sweetheart. Get some rest."
Kitty closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "You get some rest too. I'm fine now."
"I'll stay for a while – until you go to sleep," House offered.
"That'd be nice," Kitty said sleepily.
As it turned out it wasn't a particularly generous offer. She was asleep less than a minute later. House sat for a while, stroking her hand, before he got up to go home. He really needed to get out of the tux.