Dr House and Ally McBeal: Objection, Your Honour!

Rippertish

Chapter 3: Courtroom Tango

A/N: Wow, people are actually reading this! I'm genuinely excited (and a little surprised) to have a few of you along for the ride. Your reviews and support gave me the kick I needed to crank out this next chapter, so thank you!

Hope you enjoy this one!

The courtroom was tense, the air thick with expectation. The opposing counsel had just wrapped up their emotional questioning of Mr. Willy, the patient who was suing House. They had painted Dr. House as a careless doctor with a penchant for cruelty. The jury seemed sympathetic, leaning in as if absorbing the weight of the plaintiff's words.

Now, it was John Cage's turn to cross-examine the witness. He rose from his chair, taking a deep breath and buttoning his jacket in a gesture of respect. His usual fidgety energy was evident, but beneath it, there was a flicker of unorthodox brilliance waiting to emerge. John approached the witness stand with measured steps, preparing to tackle the accusations and salvage what remained of their case after the plaintiff's emotionally charged testimony.

"Mr. Willy," John began, his voice calm but curious, "you've made some serious claims about Dr. House's conduct. I'd like to explore those in a bit more detail, if I may." He shuffled his notes. "You stated that Dr. House's words caused you… emotional distress?"

Mr. Willy cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, he made me feel… emasculated."

"Emasculated…" John repeated, as if testing the word. "You mean like a bull without its horns?"

Ally cringed slightly, but Mr. Willy only looked confused. "Um, I guess?"

John pressed on, the corners of his mouth twitching nervously. "And you mentioned, Mr. Willy, that this emotional distress has, uh… impacted certain… functions?"

The plaintiff shifted uncomfortably. "Yes."

"Certain… male functions?" John added, as if trying to clarify.

Mr. Willy swallowed and nodded. "Yes, exactly."

John paused, gathering his thoughts, then asked, "In your words, Mr. Willy, would you say this experience was deflating?"

Ally's eyes widened slightly. House, sitting at the defence table, coughed into his fist to cover a chuckle.

"Uh," Mr. Willy stammered, "I mean, sure?"

John nodded solemnly, as if he were considering the ramifications of deflation. "And in your opinion, Mr. Willy," he continued earnestly, "you were left with no, ah, wind in your sails?"

Mr. Willy blinked. "What?"

House leaned forward, "He means you couldn't get it up," he said flatly. Ally's eyebrows shot up.

"Dr. House!" the judge warned, shooting him a stern look.

House offered a small, innocent-looking shrug "I'm just trying to clarify."

The judge glared at House, eyes narrowing in a silent reprimand.

Ally felt her shoulders tighten involuntarily. 'He always pushes the line, as if testing everyone else's limits. But why does it always get under mine?' Ally thought, biting back a sigh.

After a beat, the judge gave John a pointed nod to proceed.

John tapped his fingers together as he collected his thoughts, clearing his throat to signal his continuation. "Mr. Willy, Dr. House saved your life by diagnosing and treating your condition, yes?"

"Yes," Mr. Willy admitted grudgingly.

"And yet," John continued, voice softening, "you believe his harsh words left you… emotionally wounded to the point of your soldier refusing to report for duty?"

House blinked twice, his eyes narrowing slightly as if suppressing silent laughter.

"Objection!" Mr. Willy's lawyer jumped in. "Counsel is using figurative language to antagonise the witness!"

"Sustained," the judge said, giving John a warning look. "Mr. Cage, watch your phrasing."

John raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement, as if surrendering to an unseen adversary. "My apologies, Your Honour," he replied.

"Let me rephrase," he said, clearly searching for a more tactful way to continue. "Mr. Willy, you felt as though Dr. House's harsh words have impacted your… physical confidence?"

Mr. Willy shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. It's psychological."

"Psychological," John echoed thoughtfully, tapping his lips, looking at the jury.

As John continued his questioning, House rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to Ally. Her fingers were absently twirling a strand of hair, her eyes narrowing slightly as she followed the back-and-forth. House wondered idly what else she did without realising.

"Mr. Willy," John's voice remained steady, pressing on, "earlier, you've mentioned this was psychological. What exactly did Dr. House say that triggered this… psychological condition?"

Mr. Willy shifted uncomfortably again, his gaze dropping. House leaned slightly forward, his eyes meeting John's with a brief deliberate look—a subtle signal to encourage the witness to keep talking. John caught the look and chose to pause, letting the silence prompt Mr. Willy further.

After a moment of quiet that seemed to stretch, Mr. Willy finally took a deep breath. "Uh… well, after the surgery, Dr. House came in to give me the results. He said, uh… my heart would recover, but…" He hesitated, swallowing hard. "He said he couldn't say the same for my, um, love life."

Ally arched her eyebrows while House rolled his eyes.

John glanced briefly at his legal pad and took a step closer to the witness stand. "Ah, yes… And at this point, you had some follow-up questions, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah," Mr. Willy muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I asked him if he meant, you know… if I wouldn't be able to… you know… that…"

"The technical term you're all dancing around is 'erectile dysfunction,'" House drawled loudly, his voice cutting through the room. "The party trick that's no longer a hit." He shrugged with a half-smirk. "Just throwing my two cents into the poetry slam."

The judge's gavel came down sharply, the sound bouncing off the walls. "We appreciate your… clarity, Dr. House, but you are out of line. Let counsel do their job," he said, his tone stern.

As the judge's words settled, Ally's mind wandered. In her imagination, the gavel suddenly swelled to cartoonish proportions and came down with a resounding THWACK, squashing House flat like a pancake. She shook her head to dispel the satisfying image.

Meanwhile, John, lowering his head, pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a low, melodic hum—something like a calming tune. He quickly regained his composure and leaned towards Mr. Willy with a laser-focused attention. "So, what you're saying is," John continued, "at that moment, you sought clarification, inquiring whether your performance capabilities were permanently compromised?"

Mr. Willy's eyes darted around nervously. "Y-yeah, that," he said.

"And what did Dr. House say in response?" John asked, his voice light.

Mr. Willy hesitated, his face flushing as he mumbled, "He said, 'Sure! Good news for your right hand.'" The plaintiff's tone was laced with embarrassment, and a ripple of suppressed laughter spread through the courtroom.

John lifted his finger, commanding the courtroom's attention. "Good news for your right hand," he repeated, slowly weighing the significance of the phrase. "And upon hearing this, you believed he was implying you would be left to your own devices?"

"Objection!" came a clipped voice from the prosecution.

The judge looked at John expectantly, but John just smiled innocently. "Withdrawn," he replied. "Mr. Willy, could you, in your own words, explain to the court what you thought Dr. House meant by that?"

Mr. Willy's face flushed as he glanced around, clearly mortified at having to spell this out in front of everyone. "I… I thought he meant that even my right hand wouldn't… you know… have anything to do."

John blinked, processing the answer. "Ah," he said softly, "so you took Dr. House's comment to mean that… even your right hand would be left, shall we say, without meaningful occupation?"

House leaned forward, barely able to contain himself. "That hand was probably overworked and underpaid," he muttered, just loud enough for Ally to hear.

She shot him a sharp glare, silently willing him to shut up. Deep down, she had to admit, the joke almost made her snort.

In her imagination, she reached over, pulled out a roll of duct tape, and pressed a strip firmly over his mouth. House's eyes bulged in shock, widening comically as his muffled protests struggled to escape behind the tape. She finished with a satisfied pat on his cheek, and the entire courtroom burst into enthusiastic applause.

Ally shifted, snapping herself back to reality. She quickly withdrew her hands to her lap, realising they had drifted a little too close to House's space.

Mr. Willy offered his reply to John, "Yeah, exactly."

John nodded along thoughtfully. "And this interpretation led you to believe that your condition was not only irreversible but beyond even self-sufficiency?"

The plaintiff, still red-faced, nodded. "That's right."

John turned to the jury, spreading his hands in a gesture of utmost sincerity. "Members of the jury, what we have here is not merely a misunderstanding—it is a misinterpretation of such magnitude that it has, quite literally, rendered Mr. Willy's right hand… unemployed."

Ally bit down on her lower lip, struggling to stifle a laugh. House's eyes flickered towards her, noting the twitch at the corner of her lips, his eyes sparking with amusement and a hint of curiosity as he studied her reaction. When their eyes met, the moment lingered just a bit longer than it should have. Warmth crept into her cheeks, and she quickly looked away. House didn't miss that, a quick smile threatening to form, but he disguised it with his hand and leaned back in his chair.

John's voice dropped to a softer tone. "Mister Willy was led to believe that his entire… personal functionality was no longer viable. But as you've just heard, this belief stemmed not from medical advice, but from a single remark that was meant—perhaps poorly—to inject levity into a difficult situation." he let his hands float down, as if bringing the courtroom back to reality.

John turned back to the jury, his expression solemn. "Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. House saved this man's life." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "We cannot let a hero be punished by simple miscommunication. My client was not passing judgement, nor was he diagnosing a loss of hope. He was, quite simply, making a jest that was tragically misunderstood."

As the word 'hero' landed, both Ally and House leaned forward, almost unconsciously, in perfect sync. The shared movement was so subtle it might have gone unnoticed, but Ally felt it and tensed. She glanced sideways, only to find House doing the same—his deep blue eyes darting towards her and holding her gaze. She blinked, abruptly breaking the connection and turning her attention back to the proceedings.

John turned to the judge, bowing his head ever so slightly. "No further questions, Your Honour," he said with an air of solemn finality, as though he'd just pulled off a courtroom miracle.

Returning to his seat, John adjusted his tie with a self-satisfied expression, glancing at House as if expecting applause.

House raised an eyebrow. "What's next, a mic drop?"

"If the court had one," John replied, "you'd be hearing the thud."

House's lips twitched in amusement. He couldn't help appreciating the man's theatrics.

As the judge called for a break and people began to disperse, Ally couldn't shake the lingering weight of the word 'hero'. She wasn't sure if the title fit him, but it left her with an unsettling realisation—House wasn't just irreverent or insufferable; he was genuinely good at what he did.

For a fleeting moment, Ally felt a grudging respect for him. Whatever else he was, he was sharp. Sharp enough to twist words in a way she almost admired. It left her with an uncomfortable thought—maybe House was more than just a jerk with a cane. It shouldn't matter. But somehow, it did. Insufferable and brilliant—a dangerous combination.

House's gaze drifted to Ally, who was absently smoothing the pages of her notes, that slight furrow between her brows, like she was deep in thought. He almost wanted to know what went on in her head—almost. Then, reaching for his cane, he pushed himself up deliberately, leaving the question unanswered.

End of chapter 3

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