Title: Dr. House and Ally McBeal? Objection, Your Honour!

Author: Rippertish

"All right, people, listen up!" Richard Fish clapped his hands, his voice slicing through the hum of idle chatter in the packed conference room. Associates at Cage & Fish perked up, and Ally McBeal stopped absentmindedly tapping her pen against her notepad.

Richard cleared his throat, his expression a blend of barely suppressed glee and forewarning of disaster. "We have a new client, and this one's... unique."

That tone—that chipper, foreboding tone Richard used when he knew everyone else was about to suffer—sent a chill down Ally's spine. "Oh God," she muttered, exchanging a wary look with Georgia.

"Our client is Dr. Gregory House from Princeton Plainsboro Hospital," Richard announced.

The reaction was immediate. The room of typically unflappable associates tensed visibly. Whispers broke out, heads turned, and there were a couple of stifled chuckles. Even John Cage, seated a few chairs away, fidgeted nervously with his tie.

Ally felt like the only one out of the loop. "Wait—who's Dr. Gregory House?" she asked, her voice louder than intended in the suddenly anxious room.

Billy leaned back in his chair and smirked. "Dr. House isn't exactly known for his bedside manner."

"Or for any manners," Georgia added dryly, earning snickers from the group.

John cleared his throat softly. "The man is one of the best diagnosticians in the country—brilliant mind, terrible... people skills."

"Dr. House is being sued for malpractice and emotional distress," Richard continued. "Apparently, the patient is also claiming impotence due to emotional trauma—standard stuff."

"Standard?" Ally echoed incredulously.

Richard turned his full attention to her, his head tilting slightly. Then, he tossed a file in her direction. "Congratulations, Ally! The case is yours."

"What?! Why me?" Ally demanded, her hands gripping the edge of the table.

"Ignorance is bliss, Ally," Richard replied with a thin smile. "Besides, you're good with difficult personalities." He shrugged and turned away, muttering under his breath, "Probably the only one who wouldn't strangle him on the first day."

Ally caught the comment and felt her fingers tighten. In her mind, she saw her rubbery arms stretch impossibly long across the table, wrapping around Richard's neck. His head swelled larger and larger, turning bright red like an overinflated balloon.

Ally's eyes widened. She turned to Georgia, who leaned back in her chair, shooting Ally a sympathetic look and mouthing, *Good luck.*

"John," Richard continued, gathering his papers and already heading for the door, "you're second chair."

John visibly stiffened, eyes darting nervously to Ally. He forced a tight smile meant to reassure her.

Ally opened her mouth to protest, but Richard raised a hand. "Nope, bygones," he said briskly, and with that, he was out of the room, looking relieved to have the case off his hands.

The room remained silent for a beat, and Ally felt the full weight of the assignment sink in. This wasn't going to be just another case; this was a train wreck waiting to happen. And somehow, she'd just been handed the conductor's hat.

Ally hurried down the hall with House's case in her hands. She was nearly at her office door when she heard Elaine's voice chirp behind her, "Ally! There's—"

"Not now, Elaine," Ally cut in, without breaking stride. She reached her door and slipped inside, shutting it firmly behind her with a sigh.

She kept her eyes on the door, imagining herself securing a giant padlock over it, as if she could somehow lock out the chaos on the other side by sheer willpower alone. But the discomfort from her stockings was driving her crazy, and the incessant slipping was just another problem in an already impossible day.

Ally bent forward, letting the folder drop by her feet to free her hands. She began adjusting her stockings, completely absorbed in fixing them, oblivious to how her back arched and her bum poked comically into the air. She fumbled with one leg, then the other, her skirt inching up slightly as she tried to smooth everything back into place. Satisfied with the adjustments, she finished with a quick hop and a wiggle to settle her skirt.

Turning around to face the room, she froze.

There, sprawled in her chair with his legs kicked up on her desk, was a man casually twirling a cane between his fingers. His eyes lingered on her with unmistakable amusement—and perhaps a hint of appreciation.

"And I thought hospitals had the best view in town," House drawled, his gaze sharpening with interest.

Ally's eyes widened in horror, her face flushing crimson as she tried to process his words. She could feel her dignity evaporating by the second, her mind racing for a response—but words failed her completely.

"Who—who are you?" she demanded, recovering and stunned at his audacity, although a growing part of her already suspected the answer.

House raised an eyebrow. "You're late," he remarked flatly.

"I—what?" Ally sputtered, flustered. "It's my office!"

"Technically," House replied, "it's your name on the door, but if you're not in it when the meeting's supposed to start, it's mine. Law of the jungle."

Ally narrowed her eyes. In her mind, she transformed into a ferocious lioness, her office morphing into a savanna. She pounced on her prey—a defenseless, House-impersonating gazelle—and chomped his head off, his cane clattering to the floor.

"Dr. Gregory House?" she ventured, the mental image giving her a small, wicked thrill.

House leaned back and smirked. "Depends—are you my lawyer or trying to lead a yoga session?" he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Ally blinked, imagining herself spitting out his imaginary head from her lioness-self in disgust, watching it bounce on the savanna floor. But instead, she plastered on a tight smile. "Dr. House, I need you to move so I can sit at my desk."

"House," he corrected, spinning the cane once more before setting it on the ground and heaving himself up with a pained grunt. "I'm not big on formalities."

"Clearly," she muttered under her breath.

House smirked, as if he'd heard her anyway. "You don't look like you're ready for this."

"I am very ready," she insisted, trying to regain control of the situation.

Ally took her seat with a forced air of dignity, trying not to bristle.

"Sure," he said, glancing around. "Is that my case over there?" He pointed with his cane to the folder on the floor that she had forgotten in the rush of fixing her stockings and being caught off-guard by his presence.

Ally's eyes widened, and she straightened up, feigning nonchalance. "I like it over there," she said, waving dismissively. "Keeps the space open. You know, for, um… flow."

"Flow?" House echoed, clearly amused.

"Yeah, feng shui," Ally stammered. "It's… good energy. For clarity."

House raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "If you say so, Counselor."

Ally took a deep breath, trying to regain her footing. "I understand you're being sued for malpractice and emotional distress," she said, deciding to jump right in before he could derail the conversation.

House sat across from her, already looking bored. "Yep."

"By a patient," Ally pressed on, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. "Who claims your behaviour—"

"Saved his life," House interrupted with a casual shrug. "But also hurt his feelings. Boo-hoo, what a tragedy."

Ally's eye twitched slightly. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and visualised herself flipping her desk over, sending all the papers flying, and storming out in dramatic fashion. Instead, she squared her shoulders and kept her tone steady. "The issue isn't just about saving his life, Dr. House. It's about the alleged unprofessional conduct, breach of protocol—"

House shifted in his seat, meeting her gaze with an expression that was equal parts boredom and mild annoyance. "You mean the part where I ignored a bunch of rules to keep him alive?" he said flatly. "How reckless of me."

Ally steeled herself. "He's also claiming that your actions caused him severe emotional trauma, which, according to him, has now resulted in… impotence."

House raised an eyebrow. "Impotence?" he repeated, deadpan. "Well, I guess some people just can't handle the hard truth."

Ally blinked, momentarily speechless, but quickly recovered. She squared her shoulders. "I'm here to defend you. But I need you to work with me."

House smirked, the corner of his mouth curling up. "I don't play well with others."

"I'm getting that," Ally replied dryly.

For a moment, they just stared at each other—House with his unsettling blue eyes and Ally with her forced calm—until House finally broke the silence. "So, what's the plan, Counselor?"

Ally had no idea what the plan was. But if she wanted to get through this case with her sanity intact, she'd have to figure it out—fast.

End of chapter 1

A/N: Hey, everyone! This is a bit of a shot in the dark, but I've recently been binge-watching Ally McBeal for the first time and got inspired to create this crossover with House M.D. The idea of blending these two worlds—and this rather unexpected pairing—just wouldn't leave me alone! I hope there are some readers out there who are as curious as I am to see what happens when two sharp minds and even sharper tongues collide. Enjoy! 😊