Chapter 13

House didn't like the interruption at all. He wasn't tired. He wanted to get this over with. The DA hadn't looked tired either.

So the question was whether her calling for a break was a good sign or a bad one. Logically, a fast decision would've been better. But more time meant also more time for him to tell his story. And to change her mind if necessary.

There wasn't much to do in the area, so he ended up in a coffee shop where he went over the proceedings so far while he ate a pretty decent breakfast.

Rosalyn Mercer was nothing but business-like, and he found her hard to read. Compared to her, Lorimer had been an open book. His dislike of House and the whole situation he had been forced into had emanated from him in almost visible fumes. The DA, on the other hand, didn't appear to be easily fazed. Were the circumstances different, he'd love to poke a little to find out what else - other than a slight impatience and a low tolerance for bullshit - she was hiding under her professional and admittedly pretty good-looking veneer. The temptation was great but since this woman essentially held his future in her hands, he'd better pass on it.

He was about to finish his coffee when his phone chirped. Wilson.

Good luck today! Let me know how things go.

How the hell did he know what was happening today? He hadn't exactly kept Wilson up-to-date on the proceedings. But maybe Stacy had.

Tune in to CNN, they'll probably broadcast the verdict live, House texted back and grinned despite himself. That should shut him up for a while.

Going back to the DA's office, he wondered if he was walking towards another stint in prison. He really hoped to avoid that this time.

What he remembered most about prison was a profound sense of relief. He had sunk as low as possible. The worst had happened. Whatever happened to him inside, it couldn't be any worse than what had already happened outside. He was where he belonged, paying what he owed.

Despite all the rules and the violence, life in prison was unexpectedly easy: You just stayed alive. Following orders and unspoken rules, forming alliances - it all boiled down to one simple goal: to stay alive. He remembered his relief at being reduced to this simplicity.

But things were very different now. Yes, his life over the last two years had been similarly simple. Its main theme had been to keep Wilson alive. There had been precious little else but to go with the flow and follow the rules of cancer treatment.

But he was done with simplicity now, bored with it. He needed more, couldn't face a further reduction now. He needed his life back, even if it took on a somewhat different shape. Prison was not part of his plan.

But plan or not, it wasn't up to him. And that was what bothered him. It was all in the hands of Rosalyn Mercer, DA.

When House arrived back at the DA's temporary office, she just nodded at him but didn't stop working on her laptop. She looked like she hadn't taken a break. So she had just wanted him out of the room.

House had picked up a coffee when he left the coffee shop. He now put it on her desk without a comment.

"What's this then? A bribe?" The DA finally looked up from her work.

"We're in some rented office so nobody knows what's going on. No witnesses. And you're asking if I'm trying to bribe you with coffee? I'd say you've got bigger things to worry about. So do I."

"Touché." This time, the smile did reach her eyes.

House settled back into his chair. He really hoped this wouldn't take much longer. "It's in my best interest for you to be awake and alert, and I figured the break was just a ruse to get rid of me for a while."

"I can see how people would get the idea you're a smartass." She closed her laptop. "Okay. I spoke to your friend James Wilson while you were out."

So that's how Wilson knew what was going on.

"Why?"

Rosalyn Mercer sighed and shifted in her chair.

"Dr. House, if this were a trial, your defense would be entitled to call a character witness. I'm doing your job here."

"You do know he's an unreliable witness? He's had tons of chemo; it's known to affect the brain."

"You know what? I wonder how you two can even be friends. You constantly argue."

House grinned. "Exactly. We argue, and then we forget about it and go on as if nothing's happened. If that isn't friendship, then I don't know what is."

She shook her head. Then she picked up one of the files on her desk. "I've made some more inquiries. I spoke to Dr. Wilson, and I also did some internet research."

House waited her out.

She sighed again.

"This isn't easy. But after some thinking, I've come to some sort of conclusion. Since this isn't a trial I'd like your input, though."

This was faster than House had anticipated. He had expected another grilling like the one earlier.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, shoot."

"The way I see it, you had two problems. One - the tickets, the plumbing disaster and your parole being revoked. Two - a living man who is currently dead and a dead man who is still alive."

"Had two problems?"

Rosalyn Mercer smiled. "I'm glad you picked up on that. I spoke to Dean Foreman yesterday after I had gone through your files. The plumbing was repaired under some form of compensation scheme from the hospital's insurance. He said he tracked maintenance back over the years and apparently there were issues there. I didn't quite follow his explanations, but he initiated a more thorough investigation and the result was that the tickets alone couldn't have caused that much damage. Basically, the charges were dropped. If you had waited just a little while, your parole wouldn't have been revoked. He can explain everything to you himself, he asked for you to contact him when we've sorted the second problem."

This was a surprise. For once, Foreman was on House's side.

House nodded. "What about problem number two?"

"This is the bigger one, obviously. I had a number of questions. Did Oliver Marsden have family? Anyone who'd miss him or who needed to be notified of his passing? Dean Foreman cleared that up for me, too. Oliver Marsden had an ex-wife and two children. I did a little poking around and it turns out she recently initiated proceedings to have him declared dead. Apparently, her new husband wants to adopt the children. I think we'll be able to speed up that process now. Dean Foreman offered to notify the family."

"Why?"

The DA didn't look surprised at that question. "I asked myself the same thing. Yesterday, I thought he was doing this to help you out. Now that I've met you, though, I don't think he's doing it just because he likes you."

Exactly what House thought. Foreman would want something in return. There would be time enough to find out what, or so he hoped.

"So the only problem we're left with is how to explain why Oliver Whatshisname was mistakenly identified as Gregory House two years ago," concluded House.

"Quite. And for this, J. P. Lorimer came to the right person, whether he knew it or not. Knowing him, he probably knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you out of his hair as soon as possible so he went right to the top of the food chain. He could've tried the assistant DA. But he hasn't had any problems with a certain coroner's clerk. I have. You don't need to know the details, but last year I lost a case because this clerk had misfiled something. I went to court with incorrect information, my case got thrown out, the accused walked. It was a pretty high-profile case. It didn't cost me my career, but let's just say that my life didn't exactly get easier afterwards. This clerk has since retired. Wisely so, I might add. There may be no harm in adding one more misfiling to his record now."

House took a deep breath. You live long enough you'll find everyone has an axe to grind with someone.

And yet.

"Why?"

Rosalyn Mercer finally took the coffee House had placed on her desk earlier. It was probably cold by now but that didn't seem to bother her.

"That's the question, isn't it? Why should I do this? J. P. Lorimer would tell you it's because he's got something on me." She smiled and a light danced in her eyes. "Let's just say, it's not as big as he'd like to believe. I've survived a lot to get where I am. I could survive whatever he's prepared to throw at me. So the question remains."

Things had looked brighter only a minute ago. Miss Mercer wasn't averse to playing a game or two, House realized. This could still go either way.

"Let me guess," he ventured, "my lovely blue eyes convinced you I'm worth it?"

"No. Lovely as they may be, I'm not swayed by anyone's eyes, no matter what color." She put down the file she had been toying with. "However, occasionally I can be swayed by a good story. You giving up your life for your dying friend, you have to admit, that's a good one."

House snorted. "It's sentimental bullshit. Did Wilson tell you this?"

Her raised eyebrow told him all he needed to know.

"Well, he's an idiot."

"Be that as it may. The question is, is he wrong?"

"Yes." She clearly didn't believe him. House sighed. "No."

Rosalyn Mercer just nodded. "You going to prison when you didn't have to, that's another good story. Tell me why you didn't get legal representation. Tell me why you voluntarily went to prison when you probably could've gotten away with parole."

This was unexpected. He had just thought about this before returning after their break.

"I got what I deserved; I took the punishment. You've read the files. After what happened, I couldn't trust myself to make any decisions – and you don't get to make any decisions in prison. Everything is decided for you. Life inside is brutal but simple." House shrugged.

When he didn't continue, Rosalyn Mercer said, "That's not much of a story, though, is it?"

He had kept it deliberately short. She either understood or she didn't.

"Well, it's the only one I've got."

Her throaty laugh took him by surprise.

"At least you're honest." She eyed him. "Or I think you are. You never know."

"Everything I said is true."

She nodded. "I believe you. But you haven't told me everything. You probably think it's my fault for not asking the right questions."

He was clever enough not to take this bait.

The DA thought for a moment and then continued, "I know you want this to be over as much as I do. But I do need some more time before we can finish this off. You can wait outside or go for a coffee. Give me half an hour."

House rolled his cane between his palms. She had dismissed him again. It was beginning to irk him. But this was not the time to start an argument. He couldn't afford to piss her off too much.

So he got up without a word and left the room once more.