Post-Trauma 12.5
The courtroom is a different place on Tuesday morning than it had been Saturday afternoon. All of the offices located in the building are open, and hearings and trials are going on in all of the courtrooms. On the way to the elevator, they pass a bench filled with prisoners in orange jumpsuits and leg irons.
Luerssen is being tried in a small courtroom on the second floor. That hallway, too, is heavily occupied. Brenda, from the hospital, is there, as well as Temas, who’s talking to a teen girl with long brown hair and a woman who must be her mother, and a lot of other people Wilson doesn’t know. Prosecutor Shepherd is going around checking in with various people.
Wilson steers House over to where Temas is. He doesn’t want to inadvertently sit him down next to someone who’s there to testify for the other side.
“Hi, House, Wilson. This is Karen Donovan--” he indicates the girl, “And Laura Donovan.”
“James Wilson.” He smiles at them.
“House,” House grunts.
“House? The victim?” Mrs. Donovan says.
Wilson winces. That can’t possibly go over well.
Mrs. Donovan looks him over. “You poor man.”
To Wilson’s surprise, House just says, “’m okay.”
“Karen’s going to testify today about what he did during her sessions. I’m so proud of her,” she adds, putting her arm around her daughter.
“Great,” House says.
“Thanks,” Wilson adds. “Here, let’s sit down.” There’s an empty section of bench next to the Donovans, so they sit there.
“Are you holding up okay?” Temas asks them.
“Yeah,” House says. “I’m good.”
“Great. Let me know if you need anything.”
After a while, Karen asks House, “How long did you have to see him?”
“Four and a half months.” After a pause he adds, “You?”
“Two months. Did you get sent away first?”
“Yeah. Drugs.”
“Attitude,” Karen says.
“Harsh.”
They sit quietly for what seems like a long time, but by Wilson’s watch is only fifteen minutes, until a hubbub starts down the hallway and Ms. Shepherd tells them, “They’re bringing Luerssen in. We’re about to get started.”
Mrs. Donovan tells Karen to cover her eyes, adding, “You shouldn’t look at him either, Mr. House.”
“Doctor,” House says.
Karen covers her eyes with her hands, as her mother suggested, but House sets his jaw and looks straight ahead.
This time, Luerssen sweeps past them without speaking. Wilson pats House’s arm.
“He’s gone now,” Mrs. Donovan says.
Karen uncovers her eyes, and rolls them at House.
House shrugs. “He is a scary motherfucker,” he points out, almost gently.
“Whatever,” Karen says unconvincingly.
Before going into the courtroom, Ms. Shepherd comes over to them. “Are you guys okay? House, are you ready?”
“Yeah,” he says wearily.
“I’m putting you on the stand at the very end of my case,” she reminds him. “So it’ll be at least an hour, maybe more, depending on how long the defense spins out the cross examination of the other witnesses.”
House nods. “Okay.”
The hallway clears out somewhat as the trial gets started. “Do you want a soda, or something, from the machine?” Wilson asks. Chances are, House is going to be bored soon, and a courthouse is no place for a bored House. He should have brought a supply of snacks and small toys to keep him occupied.
“No.”
Nurse Brenda is the first of their contingent to be called in. With the most unobtrusive sigh of annoyance-Wilson figures she was hoping for a longer break from work--she puts the paperback novel she brought with her back in her purse and goes in.
House watches her go. “Hope she doesn’t decide to have a fit of amnesia once she’s on the stand. She hates me,” he says glumly.
Wilson can’t exactly deny it. “Well,” he temporizes, “she finds you annoying.”
“Yep.” House sighs heavily.
“Because of the way you always annoy her,” Wilson adds helpfully. “You could stop doing that, if it bothers you.”
He sighs again and says, “Eh.”
Brenda isn’t in the courtroom long. “How’d it go?” Wilson asks, when she comes out.
She shrugs. “Fine. They just asked if John Smith from the Clinic was in the courtroom, and told me to point him out. Then his lawyer asked how many patients we saw in the Clinic on that day, and if I’d recognize every one of them if I saw them again.”
“What did you say?” House asks.
“I said yes.” She glances at her watch. “I have to get back.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a fan of spending the night in jail for contempt of court.” She departs.
“I think it’s me next,” Temas says, and, sure enough, the bailiff summons him inside.
“Dr. Temas is nice,” Karen volunteers.
“He’s okay.” House spins his cane on its long axis.
“Did he do the thing where makes you say stuff?”
House seems to catch on faster than Wilson did that she’s not talking about Temas anymore. He raises his eyebrow. “Yeah.”
“I hated that one.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Did he make you listen to it on tape, too?”
“Yeah.”
This is the first Wilson’s heard of this. He waits to see if either House or Karen will say anything more, but neither does.
Temas is in court for a long time. Wilson assumes at first that it only seems like a long time, but after checking his watch, confirms that it really has been almost an hour when he comes out. Wilson looks at him inquiringly.
“The cross-examination was…unpleasant,” Temas says. “But I think it went well, overall.”
Next up are a few people who worked at the Mental Health Center while Luerssen was there, and then Mrs. Donovan, followed by Karen. They’re both crying when they come out of the courtroom; Temas tells House, “You’ll do fine. I’ll be here when you get back,” and goes off with them.
“Dr. House,” the bailiff, a bored-looking Hispanic woman, says.
House gets up. “I feel like I’m going to throw up,” he says, quietly but matter-of-factly.
“Do you want me to tell them you need a minute?” Wilson asks.
House shakes his head. “It’ll pass.” He takes a couple of deep breaths and goes inside. Wilson follows him, sitting in the back as he had before.
House walks to the stand without assistance this time, and takes the God-free version of the oath.
Shepherd walks up to him. “Dr. House. How did you come to be acquainted with the defendant Erich Luerssen?”
And so it begins. House answers most of her questions confidently, although he does go flat once, when she asks about the circumstances that led to his stint in rehab.
“I am an addict,” he says robotically. “My addiction was negatively impacting my person and professional life.”
Luckily, Shepherd notices and leads him around to the same questions again once he comes out of the flashback.
House repeats his party turn of pointing out Luerssen when asked to identify both Erich Luerssen and John Smith, and then Shepherd asks him, “Was the patient who identified himself as John Smith in fact Erich Luerssen?”
“I believe he was,” House answers.
“You believe? You don’t know?”
“I still don’t have a clear memory of the incident.”
He explains what he does remember, and Shepherd repeats her questions from the arraignment about how drugs are stored at PPTH and how one would typically self-administer an intravenous injection. Wilson’s amused to note that she repeats her “mistake” of asking at first only about “an injection,” leading House to comment briefly about intramuscular and subcutaneous injections. Apparently it wasn’t a mistake at all, but a deliberate setup to give House a chance to come across as doctorly and knowledgeable. Shepherd concludes, as before, by shaking House’s hand and thanking him for his time.
Drake, Luerssen’s lawyer, sidles up to him and begins, as before, by asking why “Gregory” was in treatment with Dr. Luerssen, and whether he entered treatment voluntarily, and dragging the details of the Oxy Incident out of him.
This time, however, just as he’s saying, “In fact, Gregory, you were--”
Shepherd stands up and says, “Objection!”
The judge looks at her skeptically. “To what?”
“The witness prefers to be addressed by his title and surname, your honor.”
Drake shrugs and gestures in an elaborate pantomime of skepticism. “Surely it doesn’t matter what we call him?”
“Your Honor, may I approach the bench?”
A brief consultation between the judge and the lawyers follows. House takes advantage of their distraction to wave at him enthusiastically.
Wilson waves back, trying to be more subtle about it.
When the questioning resumes, Drake is instructed to refer to House in the manner he prefers. Drake, instead, doesn’t address him by name at all, as he drags House through a recitation of his various breaches of ethics and brushes with the law, including an incident involving an Anatomy professor’s office and 220 cantaloupes that Wilson hasn’t heard anything about before. Shepherd objects, but Drake explains that he wants to establish that House has a history of elaborate revenge schemes against people he has reason to resent, and the judge allows it. Finally, Drake brings up the contradictions between House’s testimony in the previous hearing and this one. “On Saturday, March 26 you testified that Dr. Luerssen did not inject you with any substance at any time. Is that true?”
Mr. Drake, have you stopped beating your wife? Wilson thinks.
“It’s true that I said that,” House allows.
“And you also testified, under oath, that he had never threatened you, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Or harmed you in any way?”
“Yes.”
“And you also expressed gratitude to him for helping you get better, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So how is the jury expected to determine on which occasion you lied under oath-on Saturday the 26th or today?”
Shepherd begins “Obj--”
“Withdrawn. No further questions.”
“Ms. Shepherd,” the judge asks, “Redirect?”
“Yes, your honor. Dr. House, have you ever made false allegations to the police in order to gain revenge against anyone?”
“No.”
“Have you ever given false testimony under oath in order to gain revenge against anyone?”
“No.”
“In fact, have you ever used any aspect of the legal system to get back at anyone?”
“No.”
“Would it be correct to say that all of your ‘elaborate revenge schemes’ were pranks designed to cause inconvenience or social embarrassment, rather than serious legal or professional consequences?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Thank you. As has previously been demonstrated, last week you testified that Dr. Luerssen never injected you with anything, threatened you, or harmed you in any way. My colleague Mr. Drake neglected-purely by accident, I’m sure-to ask you one very important question. Why did you give that testimony last week?”
“Two reasons. First, at that time my recollection of events was still clouded by the drugs I had been given two days before, and second, Luerssen had successfully intimidated me into giving false testimony.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
House is allowed to step down, and the judge calls a lunch recess prior to the defense’s case. Ms. Shepherd joins them and Temas out in the hallway. “That went well,” she tells them. “Drake may have scored some points on the cross, but he also came across like a bully when he was questioning Karen, which will make the jury reluctant to take his side. Are you going to stick around and hear the defense’s case?”
Wilson and Temas both look at House. “What do you want to do?” Wilson asks.
House looks down at his feet and admits, “I think I want to go home.” He’d borne up remarkably well on the stand, but suddenly he looks tired and shaky. “Can I do that?”
“Yes, you can go,” Shepherd says. “Luerssen has a right to confront his accuser in court, but he’s done that. I’ll call you when we know something.”
“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Wilson says.
“Dunno. Do you have any eights?”
“No. Uh, go fish.”
For most of the afternoon, House hadn’t been able to settle down. Wilson tried to ply him with food and television, but he was only able to eat a few bites of what he thought was really a fairly good chicken sandwich, and he couldn’t seem to follow the complicated plot of one of the Spongebob episodes he has on Tivo-someone’s after the Krabby Patties recipe again, but he couldn’t really track who or why.
Similar problems beset his attempts to play piano or video games. Wilson’s been fairly good about it, not interrupting him to ask how he’s feeling and if he’d like to talk about it above three or four times. Now they’re on their second game of Go Fish, and he might actually be able to settle down a little if Wilson would stop talking.
He draws a card. Four of hearts. Damn.
“They’ll find him guilty,” Wilson says unconvincingly. “They have to.”
“I’m betting hung jury,” House says, although he’s been trying not to give it much thought. “It’s your turn.”
“Oh. Threes?”
“Go fish.”
The phone rings. They both jump.
“You want me to get it?” Wilson offers.
“Watch it be a wrong number,” House says. “Yeah, get it.”
He does. House doesn’t look at him. Once again, he’s feeling sick with nervousness. If Luerssen doesn’t get put away….
Well, it just doesn’t bear thinking about. He’ll have to get Wilson to move out, for one thing.
“Wilson here,” he says into the phone. “Yes. Yes. Yessssssss! I’ll tell him.” He turns to House. “Guilty.”
“Guilty?”
“Yeah. How long?” he asks into the phone, then reports back, “Three to five years.”
“How long is that, really?”
Wilson relays the question. “Eighteen months, before he comes up for parole. If he doesn’t get any more time for the murder.”
Eighteen months. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, now. He’s dreamed of seeing Luerssen put away. But eighteen months isn’t long. If he doesn’t go away for the murder, too, he’ll be coming out soon, and he’ll be even more pissed off than before.
On the other hand, thinking of Luerssen being the one who’s powerless and treated like trash, at least for eighteen months, will be a substantial comfort.
And the jury believed him. They knew someone was lying, and they’d believed him and not Luerssen.
Wilson had hung up while he was thinking, and comes around to sit on the sofa next to him. “You okay? You look a little shocky.”
“I’m okay,” House assures him.
When Wilson comes out of the bathroom, he finds that House has taken himself into the bedroom and closed the door most of the way behind him.
Feeling a stab of anxiety, he pauses by the door and listens, tuning out the noise of the TV and focusing on the sound coming from inside the bedroom.
“Yeah, Mom. I know I haven’t called in a while. You guys okay? There’s been a lot going on….Yeah. I think I would like to tell you about it.”
With a satisfied smile, Wilson heads back to the couch to wait for his friend.
Luerssen is being tried in a small courtroom on the second floor. That hallway, too, is heavily occupied. Brenda, from the hospital, is there, as well as Temas, who’s talking to a teen girl with long brown hair and a woman who must be her mother, and a lot of other people Wilson doesn’t know. Prosecutor Shepherd is going around checking in with various people.
Wilson steers House over to where Temas is. He doesn’t want to inadvertently sit him down next to someone who’s there to testify for the other side.
“Hi, House, Wilson. This is Karen Donovan--” he indicates the girl, “And Laura Donovan.”
“James Wilson.” He smiles at them.
“House,” House grunts.
“House? The victim?” Mrs. Donovan says.
Wilson winces. That can’t possibly go over well.
Mrs. Donovan looks him over. “You poor man.”
To Wilson’s surprise, House just says, “’m okay.”
“Karen’s going to testify today about what he did during her sessions. I’m so proud of her,” she adds, putting her arm around her daughter.
“Great,” House says.
“Thanks,” Wilson adds. “Here, let’s sit down.” There’s an empty section of bench next to the Donovans, so they sit there.
“Are you holding up okay?” Temas asks them.
“Yeah,” House says. “I’m good.”
“Great. Let me know if you need anything.”
After a while, Karen asks House, “How long did you have to see him?”
“Four and a half months.” After a pause he adds, “You?”
“Two months. Did you get sent away first?”
“Yeah. Drugs.”
“Attitude,” Karen says.
“Harsh.”
They sit quietly for what seems like a long time, but by Wilson’s watch is only fifteen minutes, until a hubbub starts down the hallway and Ms. Shepherd tells them, “They’re bringing Luerssen in. We’re about to get started.”
Mrs. Donovan tells Karen to cover her eyes, adding, “You shouldn’t look at him either, Mr. House.”
“Doctor,” House says.
Karen covers her eyes with her hands, as her mother suggested, but House sets his jaw and looks straight ahead.
This time, Luerssen sweeps past them without speaking. Wilson pats House’s arm.
“He’s gone now,” Mrs. Donovan says.
Karen uncovers her eyes, and rolls them at House.
House shrugs. “He is a scary motherfucker,” he points out, almost gently.
“Whatever,” Karen says unconvincingly.
Before going into the courtroom, Ms. Shepherd comes over to them. “Are you guys okay? House, are you ready?”
“Yeah,” he says wearily.
“I’m putting you on the stand at the very end of my case,” she reminds him. “So it’ll be at least an hour, maybe more, depending on how long the defense spins out the cross examination of the other witnesses.”
House nods. “Okay.”
The hallway clears out somewhat as the trial gets started. “Do you want a soda, or something, from the machine?” Wilson asks. Chances are, House is going to be bored soon, and a courthouse is no place for a bored House. He should have brought a supply of snacks and small toys to keep him occupied.
“No.”
Nurse Brenda is the first of their contingent to be called in. With the most unobtrusive sigh of annoyance-Wilson figures she was hoping for a longer break from work--she puts the paperback novel she brought with her back in her purse and goes in.
House watches her go. “Hope she doesn’t decide to have a fit of amnesia once she’s on the stand. She hates me,” he says glumly.
Wilson can’t exactly deny it. “Well,” he temporizes, “she finds you annoying.”
“Yep.” House sighs heavily.
“Because of the way you always annoy her,” Wilson adds helpfully. “You could stop doing that, if it bothers you.”
He sighs again and says, “Eh.”
Brenda isn’t in the courtroom long. “How’d it go?” Wilson asks, when she comes out.
She shrugs. “Fine. They just asked if John Smith from the Clinic was in the courtroom, and told me to point him out. Then his lawyer asked how many patients we saw in the Clinic on that day, and if I’d recognize every one of them if I saw them again.”
“What did you say?” House asks.
“I said yes.” She glances at her watch. “I have to get back.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a fan of spending the night in jail for contempt of court.” She departs.
“I think it’s me next,” Temas says, and, sure enough, the bailiff summons him inside.
“Dr. Temas is nice,” Karen volunteers.
“He’s okay.” House spins his cane on its long axis.
“Did he do the thing where makes you say stuff?”
House seems to catch on faster than Wilson did that she’s not talking about Temas anymore. He raises his eyebrow. “Yeah.”
“I hated that one.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Did he make you listen to it on tape, too?”
“Yeah.”
This is the first Wilson’s heard of this. He waits to see if either House or Karen will say anything more, but neither does.
Temas is in court for a long time. Wilson assumes at first that it only seems like a long time, but after checking his watch, confirms that it really has been almost an hour when he comes out. Wilson looks at him inquiringly.
“The cross-examination was…unpleasant,” Temas says. “But I think it went well, overall.”
Next up are a few people who worked at the Mental Health Center while Luerssen was there, and then Mrs. Donovan, followed by Karen. They’re both crying when they come out of the courtroom; Temas tells House, “You’ll do fine. I’ll be here when you get back,” and goes off with them.
“Dr. House,” the bailiff, a bored-looking Hispanic woman, says.
House gets up. “I feel like I’m going to throw up,” he says, quietly but matter-of-factly.
“Do you want me to tell them you need a minute?” Wilson asks.
House shakes his head. “It’ll pass.” He takes a couple of deep breaths and goes inside. Wilson follows him, sitting in the back as he had before.
House walks to the stand without assistance this time, and takes the God-free version of the oath.
Shepherd walks up to him. “Dr. House. How did you come to be acquainted with the defendant Erich Luerssen?”
And so it begins. House answers most of her questions confidently, although he does go flat once, when she asks about the circumstances that led to his stint in rehab.
“I am an addict,” he says robotically. “My addiction was negatively impacting my person and professional life.”
Luckily, Shepherd notices and leads him around to the same questions again once he comes out of the flashback.
House repeats his party turn of pointing out Luerssen when asked to identify both Erich Luerssen and John Smith, and then Shepherd asks him, “Was the patient who identified himself as John Smith in fact Erich Luerssen?”
“I believe he was,” House answers.
“You believe? You don’t know?”
“I still don’t have a clear memory of the incident.”
He explains what he does remember, and Shepherd repeats her questions from the arraignment about how drugs are stored at PPTH and how one would typically self-administer an intravenous injection. Wilson’s amused to note that she repeats her “mistake” of asking at first only about “an injection,” leading House to comment briefly about intramuscular and subcutaneous injections. Apparently it wasn’t a mistake at all, but a deliberate setup to give House a chance to come across as doctorly and knowledgeable. Shepherd concludes, as before, by shaking House’s hand and thanking him for his time.
Drake, Luerssen’s lawyer, sidles up to him and begins, as before, by asking why “Gregory” was in treatment with Dr. Luerssen, and whether he entered treatment voluntarily, and dragging the details of the Oxy Incident out of him.
This time, however, just as he’s saying, “In fact, Gregory, you were--”
Shepherd stands up and says, “Objection!”
The judge looks at her skeptically. “To what?”
“The witness prefers to be addressed by his title and surname, your honor.”
Drake shrugs and gestures in an elaborate pantomime of skepticism. “Surely it doesn’t matter what we call him?”
“Your Honor, may I approach the bench?”
A brief consultation between the judge and the lawyers follows. House takes advantage of their distraction to wave at him enthusiastically.
Wilson waves back, trying to be more subtle about it.
When the questioning resumes, Drake is instructed to refer to House in the manner he prefers. Drake, instead, doesn’t address him by name at all, as he drags House through a recitation of his various breaches of ethics and brushes with the law, including an incident involving an Anatomy professor’s office and 220 cantaloupes that Wilson hasn’t heard anything about before. Shepherd objects, but Drake explains that he wants to establish that House has a history of elaborate revenge schemes against people he has reason to resent, and the judge allows it. Finally, Drake brings up the contradictions between House’s testimony in the previous hearing and this one. “On Saturday, March 26 you testified that Dr. Luerssen did not inject you with any substance at any time. Is that true?”
Mr. Drake, have you stopped beating your wife? Wilson thinks.
“It’s true that I said that,” House allows.
“And you also testified, under oath, that he had never threatened you, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Or harmed you in any way?”
“Yes.”
“And you also expressed gratitude to him for helping you get better, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So how is the jury expected to determine on which occasion you lied under oath-on Saturday the 26th or today?”
Shepherd begins “Obj--”
“Withdrawn. No further questions.”
“Ms. Shepherd,” the judge asks, “Redirect?”
“Yes, your honor. Dr. House, have you ever made false allegations to the police in order to gain revenge against anyone?”
“No.”
“Have you ever given false testimony under oath in order to gain revenge against anyone?”
“No.”
“In fact, have you ever used any aspect of the legal system to get back at anyone?”
“No.”
“Would it be correct to say that all of your ‘elaborate revenge schemes’ were pranks designed to cause inconvenience or social embarrassment, rather than serious legal or professional consequences?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Thank you. As has previously been demonstrated, last week you testified that Dr. Luerssen never injected you with anything, threatened you, or harmed you in any way. My colleague Mr. Drake neglected-purely by accident, I’m sure-to ask you one very important question. Why did you give that testimony last week?”
“Two reasons. First, at that time my recollection of events was still clouded by the drugs I had been given two days before, and second, Luerssen had successfully intimidated me into giving false testimony.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
House is allowed to step down, and the judge calls a lunch recess prior to the defense’s case. Ms. Shepherd joins them and Temas out in the hallway. “That went well,” she tells them. “Drake may have scored some points on the cross, but he also came across like a bully when he was questioning Karen, which will make the jury reluctant to take his side. Are you going to stick around and hear the defense’s case?”
Wilson and Temas both look at House. “What do you want to do?” Wilson asks.
House looks down at his feet and admits, “I think I want to go home.” He’d borne up remarkably well on the stand, but suddenly he looks tired and shaky. “Can I do that?”
“Yes, you can go,” Shepherd says. “Luerssen has a right to confront his accuser in court, but he’s done that. I’ll call you when we know something.”
“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Wilson says.
“Dunno. Do you have any eights?”
“No. Uh, go fish.”
For most of the afternoon, House hadn’t been able to settle down. Wilson tried to ply him with food and television, but he was only able to eat a few bites of what he thought was really a fairly good chicken sandwich, and he couldn’t seem to follow the complicated plot of one of the Spongebob episodes he has on Tivo-someone’s after the Krabby Patties recipe again, but he couldn’t really track who or why.
Similar problems beset his attempts to play piano or video games. Wilson’s been fairly good about it, not interrupting him to ask how he’s feeling and if he’d like to talk about it above three or four times. Now they’re on their second game of Go Fish, and he might actually be able to settle down a little if Wilson would stop talking.
He draws a card. Four of hearts. Damn.
“They’ll find him guilty,” Wilson says unconvincingly. “They have to.”
“I’m betting hung jury,” House says, although he’s been trying not to give it much thought. “It’s your turn.”
“Oh. Threes?”
“Go fish.”
The phone rings. They both jump.
“You want me to get it?” Wilson offers.
“Watch it be a wrong number,” House says. “Yeah, get it.”
He does. House doesn’t look at him. Once again, he’s feeling sick with nervousness. If Luerssen doesn’t get put away….
Well, it just doesn’t bear thinking about. He’ll have to get Wilson to move out, for one thing.
“Wilson here,” he says into the phone. “Yes. Yes. Yessssssss! I’ll tell him.” He turns to House. “Guilty.”
“Guilty?”
“Yeah. How long?” he asks into the phone, then reports back, “Three to five years.”
“How long is that, really?”
Wilson relays the question. “Eighteen months, before he comes up for parole. If he doesn’t get any more time for the murder.”
Eighteen months. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, now. He’s dreamed of seeing Luerssen put away. But eighteen months isn’t long. If he doesn’t go away for the murder, too, he’ll be coming out soon, and he’ll be even more pissed off than before.
On the other hand, thinking of Luerssen being the one who’s powerless and treated like trash, at least for eighteen months, will be a substantial comfort.
And the jury believed him. They knew someone was lying, and they’d believed him and not Luerssen.
Wilson had hung up while he was thinking, and comes around to sit on the sofa next to him. “You okay? You look a little shocky.”
“I’m okay,” House assures him.
When Wilson comes out of the bathroom, he finds that House has taken himself into the bedroom and closed the door most of the way behind him.
Feeling a stab of anxiety, he pauses by the door and listens, tuning out the noise of the TV and focusing on the sound coming from inside the bedroom.
“Yeah, Mom. I know I haven’t called in a while. You guys okay? There’s been a lot going on….Yeah. I think I would like to tell you about it.”
With a satisfied smile, Wilson heads back to the couch to wait for his friend.