[Open on scrub area outside an OR. Dr. Brock is in scrubs. He is taking a swig from a flask. Marie, a nurse, approaches him.]
Marie: Brock? What are you doing?
Brock: Getting ready for surgery. What’s it look like?
Marie: You’re operating on my sister.
Brock: And my fiancé.
Marie: You’re drunk. You could kill her.
Brock: It’s the only way to stop my hands from shaking. I need to drink. For Anna.
Marie: What about… our baby.
Brock: Our… baby?
[She nods slowly. Brock squeezes his eyes shut and the camera pulls back to show him, on a TV monitor, collapsing to the floor. It’s the set of Prescription Passion, House’s favorite soap opera. Brock is Evan Greer, an actor, and the nurse is his costar.]
Marie: Oh, my God! Are you okay? [there is blood on “Brock’s” mouth] Brock, speak to me. Oh, my God. Um. I, I, I, I think he’s really hurt.
Director: Cut.
Technician: [voice over] Uh, we can edit that word out…
Marie: Uh, that was scary. I thought there for a second you were really –
Evan: Then you gotta be the only one in the world who did. [standing] This is ridiculous.
Director: It was great, Evan.
Evan: No it wasn’t. It was crap.
Director: The fans are gonna love it.
Evan: The fans are crap. I’m crap. This whole damn show is crap! Sorry. Not your fault.
[Cut to Evan leaving the studio, in slow motion. He signs a few autographs and gets into the back of a black town car. The car starts to move.]
Evan: Um. Where are you going? My apartment’s on the West Side. [to the back of the driver’s head] Excuse me. You need to go the other way. Hey, did you hear what I said? [as he reaches for the car door, the lock drops down] What the hell is going on here? What do you want?
House: [driving the car] An autographed picture would be nice. Oh… And I’m also gonna save your life.
[Evan tries to get out of the car as it pulls away, tires squealing.]
[Opening credits]
[Cut to the ER entrance. Two EMTs wheel a patient in. Cuddy is there with Dr. Jaime Conway, a hospital inspector.]
Conway: You might want to think about repositioning the crosswalk. It’s technically not a violation, but the closer they are to the entrance, the more likely they are to be used.
Cuddy: Makes sense. I actually wasn’t expecting you until next month...
Conway: That’s the problem with planned visits – administrators plan for them. [Cuddy chuckles slightly] The most recent New Jersey hospital accreditation requirements
Cuddy: Yeah. I’m familiar with –
[A car horn blares and the town car screeches up. House hops out, literally. He touches the brim of his cap in a salute to Cuddy.]
Conway: Who was that?
Cuddy: I have no idea. Shall we get started?
[As Cuddy steers Conway into the building, House comes around the car and opens the passenger door. Evan slides back toward the other door with his feet on the seat, ready to kick House.]
Evan: Just let me go. I won’t press charges. Forget the whole thing.
House: That’s probably true, seeing as how you have a brain tumor.
Evan: You’re that nut-job doctor that keeps calling my publicist.
House: Actually, I’m the nut-job head of diagnostic medicine.
Evan: I run every day. I don’t get headaches. I’m fine. So, if you don’t mind…
[House leans into the car, getting closer and closer to Evan, who keeps backing away]
House: Actually, I do mind. I don’t care if you die. But if Brock Sterling dies, Anna never finds out he’s the father of Marie’s baby.
Evan: [yells] Help!
House: [stands, echoing Evan] Help! We’re gonna need a wheelchair… here. [he ducks his head back into the car] Look, in the last month your average line reading has slowed from 2.1 seconds to 2.9. You’re pausing more. Always at the same intervals – every seven to nine words. Which means you’re having trouble reading one side of the teleprompter. Which means a peripheral vision problem. Which means a tumor in your occipital lobe. Just one test. If there’s nothing wrong, I’ll take you right back home.
Evan: [getting out of the car] Make it cab fare. I don’t want you anywhere near my house.
House: [tossing the keys to a passing employee] Uh, just put it in my spot.
[Cut to Cuddy’s office. She is sitting on her desk, addressing several doctors]
Cuddy: The accreditation board is here to protect us and our patients. So, in dealing with the on-site inspector, please behave as though it wasn’t also an enormous pain in the ass. [The doctors start leaving] Chase, Foreman, Cameron – up here, please. Why is House driving a limo.
Foreman: Don’t know.
Cameron: Don’t have to know.
Chase: Don’t… care?
Cuddy: Wrong. Until this inspection is over, you’re back on House watch. [points to Foreman, then Cameron] Current case, past cases.
Foreman: He doesn’t have a current case.
Cameron: I have a whole department.
Chase: Are you gonna fire us if we don’t?
Cuddy: I was just – asking for your help. [Chase is out the door before she finishes. To Cameron] The last time I checked the ER, you had the best-kept charts in the building. The last time I checked the fourth floor janitor’s closet, I found House’s charts. He hasn’t filed anything since you left. Now, House may not care whether this hospital’s accreditation gets downgraded, but the people who sign my paychecks do. So, I repeat, current, past.
Foreman: He doesn’t have a current case.
Cuddy: Did he tell you about the limo?
[Cut to exam room. Evan has his face in a frame and is looking straight ahead. House is slightly behind him, looking at a computer screen.]
Evan: So I just press this button every time I see a light?
House: It tells me where your blind spots are. So… the twins They’re gonna turn out to be yours, aren’t they.
Evan: I told you. I can’t talk about that stuff.
House: But you want to be done with this, right?
Evan: [sighs] One’s mine, one’s Julio’s.
House: I knew it. [pumps his fist] Julio knocked her up before her appendix burst. You got her after.
Evan: How can you watch that stuff?
House: ‘Cause it’s awesome.
Evan: It’s preposterous. Not one real moment since I’ve been on the show.
House: As opposed to shows that represent the world exactly the way it is, like… I can’t think of any.
Foreman: [enters] What’s going on?
House: Hospital is being inspected and Cuddy dispatched you to keep an eye on me. [pause] I just parked a town car in an ambulance bay and, instead of ripping me one, Cuddy acted like she didn’t know me. It’s either an inspection or an aneurysm.
Evan: What’s the test say?
House: As I suspected, you have significant losses in the upper right quadrant of your visual field.
Evan: Are you serious?
House: No, it’s a joke. Two guys go into a bar and one has significant losses in the upper right quadrant of his visual field. And the other one says, ‘You’re gonna need an MRI to confirm the type and location of the tumor.’
Foreman: That readout says his vision’s fine.
House: No, it doesn’t.
Foreman: Yes, it does.
Evan: You lied to me?
House: I kidnapped you. You’re surprised that I lied to you? [Evan jumps out of the chair and grabs his jacket] It just means that the symptoms are intermittent.
Evan: You come near me again, I’m calling the police.
Foreman: You kidnapped him?
House: It’s sweet that I haven’t lost the ability to surprise you.
[Cut to hallway. House is punching a code into a drug cart and checking the drawers. Wilson limps up. House doesn’t look at him.]
House: Are you mocking me?
Wilson: My back. My back is killing me.
House: Don’t care. Busy.
Wilson: Amber’s damn mattress.
House: Well that sucks. Don’t buy a new one. [He takes a syringe from a drawer, locks the cart, grabs his cane and turns to leave. Wilson follows]
Wilson: Are you being sarcastic? Because we are buying one.
House: She’s incapable of doing anything that matters without turning it into a zero-sum game.
Wilson: We’re buying a mattress for us.
House: Wow. I’m faster than you right now. [He uses his cane to push open an elevator door before it shuts. Evan is in the elevator. He turns away from House and pulls out his phone.] It’s all about her and whatever hapless salesman wanders into her sights. She’s gonna lie, steal and trade your testes to get whatever she wants. Hold on. I just gotta do something before he dials the second ‘1.’ [He uncaps the syringe and injects Evan in the back of the neck.] You’re going to end up humiliated, [Evan drops to the floor] holding her purse and going home to sleep on a new mattress you hate.
Wilson: What the hell are you doing?
House: He needs an MRI.
[Cut to MRI. House is in the computer room with Thirteen/Hadley and Taub.]
House: Give me one millimeter slices from the cortex down.
Thirteen: Any particular reason you decided to sedate a patient for a procedure that’s completely painless?
House: [trying on Evan’s sunglasses] Guy has a history of violent outbursts during surgical procedures.
Taub: Yeah, on TV. It’s Evan Greer. He’s the main stud on House’s soap. Frontal cortex looks clean. No tumors.
House: Increase the magnification on the occipital lobe. You watch because you like or because I like?
Taub: I was unemployed. I –
House: Bzzt. Sorry. That’s not an answer, that’s an apology. If we’re ever to come out of the darkness, we have to be proud –
Thirteen: Occipital, frontal and temporal lobes are clean. So’s the optic nerve. Definitely no tumors.
House: He’s fine?
Thirteen: And awake.
[Evan is moving in the MRI machine.]
Taub: Uh, what should we tell him?
House: See if you can talk him out of suing me.
[Cut to Evan, Thirteen and Taub in a hallway]
Evan: He kidnapped me. He drugged me.
Taub: Perhaps you should go out the back way.
Evan: I’m not going anywhere you people tell me to go.
Taub: It’s just, someone of your fame, uh… I figured fans…
Evan: You’re trying to hide me. You don’t want me making a scene.
Thirteen: The hospital’s being inspected today.
Evan: And you want me doing you a favor?
Thirteen: Not us! Our Dean of Medicine. And House hates her. You’d be doing House a favor by complaining.
Evan: Oh.
[Cut to Clinic. Cuddy approaches the desk. An elevator dings as the doors open. Evan gets off the elevator, trailed by Taub and Thirteen. He approaches a man in a lab coat.]
Evan: This hospital is staffed with lunatics and criminals. Excuse me, where’s Dr. Cuddy? [He falls down] It’s my foot. What did he do to me?
Cuddy: What did House do?
Thirteen: Nothing. I was with him the whole time.
Evan: It’s numb. I can’t feel it. [Taub and Thirteen help him up. He takes a step and falls again] I can’t walk.
[Cut to Diagnostics conference room. Cameron is at her old desk by the wall while House conducts a DDX with the new fellows.]
Thirteen: Foot numbness has a huge differential.
House: It gets a lot narrower when you add in peripheral vision problems.
Foreman: Which gets a lot wider when there’s no proof he ever had a vision problem.
Kutner: So, House was wrong about the first symptom, but the guy just happened to develop a second, unrelated symptom a few hours later?
Taub: He already kidnapped and sedated a guy against his will. Makes sense he’d also do something to numb his foot so he couldn’t leave.
House: But it doesn’t make sense to include the symptom that he caused in a differential he’s so desperate to solve.
Cameron: Unless he didn’t mean to cause it.
House: Stick to the filing, sweetheart. Let the doctors do the doctoring. Either toxins or a vitamin deficiency –
Cameron: I’m guessing when you drugged him, you didn’t catch him and ease him to the floor. He could have pinched a nerve in his ankle when he fell. You need to run an EMG test for motor nerve entrapment or the inspector will own your ass.
House: Kutner, leave the room. Wait thirty minutes, come back and tell her the test was negative.
Kutner: Is it okay if I use that time to do the test?
House: Get out of here.
Cameron: [emptying a plastic bag of papers on the desk] The rest of them can help me with all this stuff.
House: They’re busy. Which is really annoying because I wanted to be able to say they’re busy for no other reason than to screw with you. [he picks a tape out of a plastic carton he just dropped on the table and shows it to her] Research.
[Cut to lab. Kutner is running the EMG on Evan]
Evan: So the nutjob was right?
Kutner: Usually is.
Evan: He said I was dying.
Kutner: He’s wrong a lot, too. That’s why we do these tests. I bet it’s cool, you know, being the star of a hit TV show.
Evan: It’s a daytime soap. It pretty much puts me one step above dinner theater.
Kutner: Come on. You’re on TV every day. And who cares what the critics think. Women love soaps.
Evan: You get to take to take pride in your job. Feel good when you go home at night.
Kutner: You’re entertaining people.
Evan: I don’t care.
Kutner: Then you’ve made a strange career choice.
Evan: Look, I’m pandering. I want to be a part of something that inspires people.
Kutner: So quit. Find something inspiring and do it.
Evan: It’s not that easy.
Kutner: Why not?
Evan: Just isn’t.
[Cut to doctors’ lounge. House is watching a tape of his soap with Foreman, Taub and Thirteen. Brock enters a room. Marie, the nurse from the first scene pulls open her uniform top.]
Marie: It’s my heart, doctor. It’s racing.
Brock: I’m sure it’s nothing. You’re a healthy woman, Marie.
Marie: Shouldn’t you examine me?
Brock: Why don’t you have Rico do it?
[House is staring at the screen. He lifts the remote to lower the volume. The soap continues quietly in the background.]
House: You can’t tell me you didn’t notice that pause.
Thirteen: Sorry.
Marie: She’s never waking up.
House: Ah, this is a whole new experience in super high def. I had no idea Marie wore an underwire.
Taub: Does sound a little forced. Could be stiffening in his tongue which is a symptom of myxedema.
Thirteen: It’s not the tongue, it’s the dialog. I think I dated that nurse, though. [House stares at her and Taub stares at the nurse on the screen] No.
Foreman: What about the way he’s holding that stethoscope? His thumb and forefinger are meeting at an odd angle.
House: Could be demylenation from toxic exposure.
Taub: Back it up.
[The door opens and Cuddy enters]
Cuddy: What’s this, the AV club?
Foreman: It’s diagnostic. Everything’s under control.
Cuddy: Yeah, excellent job so far. House, outside.
[House hands the remote to Thirteen before following Cuddy to the hallway]
House: Keep watching. You’ll never guess what Rico’s got in that box.
Marie: Rico doesn’t even know I’m alive.
Cuddy: You have an obsession with an actor or the character he plays. I feel for you. You need to work it out. But I need you to do it when the hospital’s accreditation and my job are not on the line.
House: You want the star of the hottest daytime drama on TV to die in your hospital?
Cuddy: No, I want you to cure him without committing any more felonies.
House: I can’t do my job if you’re going to tie my hands like that.
Cuddy: Fifty-one weeks out of the year I let you run around like a monkey in a banana factory. All I’m asking is that you tone it for a few days.
House: I want that TV.
Cuddy: We’re not bargaining.
House: You want something. Either you’re bargaining or you’re begging.
Cuddy: Me keeping my job is good for you.
House: Yes, but it’s better for you. I just want us to be equally happy.
Kutner: [approaches] EMG was negative for nerve entrapment. Means the foot’s a real symptom. Could be vitamin deficiency.
House: Or a toxin.
Kutner: Or atherosclerosis.
House: Or a toxin.
Cuddy: Why is toxin a better idea?
House: Might not be. We’ll know after I’m finished searching his set and dressing room for medically relevant stuff. Gotta go. Need a decision.
Cuddy: You’re not going to cut your own throat.
House: Yeah, that sounds like me. [to Kutner] Test for heavy metals, organics, biotoxins and search the home.
[Cut to Amber and Wilson lying on a mattress in a showroom]
Wilson: I like the pillow top.
Amber: I like this one.
Salesman: Great taste. That model’s top of the line.
Wilson: How much is it?
Salesman: $1,999. It’s a great price.
Wilson: And, what about –
Amber: That’s too rich for us.
Wilson: I don’t know. You think…
Amber: Honey, we can’t afford that. Not with the baby on the way.
Salesman: Congratulations. Your first?
Amber: Yes.
Salesman: How about I knock a hundred bucks off. Maybe throw in free delivery.
Amber: Money is really tight right now. I’m a law clerk and my husband just got laid off. He has an interview today. Wish him luck.
Salesman: Good luck.
Wilson: Fingers crossed.
Amber: We might be able to afford $1,500.
Salesman: Well, I’d have to check with my manager.
Amber: Thanks. I appreciate it. [He leaves. Amber’s beeper goes off. She hand Wilson her bag] Hold this, would you? 911 from work. Better go.
Wilson: So am I getting the hard mattress or do I have to go to my job interview?
Amber: Whatever mattress you want. I’m fine either way.
Wilson: You… Really?
Amber: Really. Just as long as I get to help you break it in.
[Cut to Evan’s dressing room. House is holding an Emmy. He makes a self-deprecating gesture as if he were pretending to make an acceptance speech. His phone rings. He checks the caller ID. His inspection of the dressing room continues during the phone call.]
House: Pack your manhood on ice. Maybe the hospital can reattach it.
Wilson: [calling from the store] You were so wrong. She’s letting me choose.
House: “You choose” does not mean you choose.
Wilson: Really? Sounded like “you choose.” I suppose it’s possible she meant “House is soooo, so wrong.”
House: It’s a trap. It means “if you love me you’ll buy the one I want.” [He grabs a handful of shelled sunflower seeds from a large container, popping them into his mouth while continuing the conversation.]
Wilson: Amber doesn’t do passive-aggressive.
House: People who do aggressive don’t like to limit themselves. Could a leaky space heater cause vision problems and numbness?
Wilson: He’d of gotten better at the hospital. It’s not a trap.
House: Did I hear a question mark at the end of that sentence?
[He sees Marie and a crew member walk past the dressing room]
Wilson: House, look, she’s –
House: Gotta go. [hangs up]
[Cut to mattress showroom]
Salesman: Manager says I can do that price.
[Cut to set. House is walking through it with Marie, eating more seeds as they walk.]
Marie: The gin bottles are all gifts from fans. Brock Sterling drinks it on the show but Evan doesn’t drink at all. He’s on this whole health kick right now. Fruits, nuts – did you take those from his dressing room?
House: No. You’re not going to marry Brock, are you? We’ve been waiting four years for him to make it official with Anna.
Marie: Are you really a doctor.
House: Glioblastoma. Need more proof? So, no toxins on the set, how about his regular life? Unusual hobbies? Unsavory friends?
Marie: No. I’ve been out with him. He’s as vanilla as they come.
House: And by “out” you mean…?
Marie: Well, I asked him on a date last month. We went out a few times but we weren’t right for each other.
House: Too small or too large?
Marie: Is that medically relevant?
House: I’m a doctor and it’s relevant to me. So, yes.
Marie: We never got that far. We made out a while then he just said he should go home. He’s a real gentleman.
House: [thinks and looks at the seeds in his hand] Now that’d be interesting.
[Cut to Diagnostics conference room. House enters.]
House: He’s impotent. [he takes a packet from his pocket and tosses it on the table] Steady diet of sunflower seeds causes a B6 toxicity, which causes an autonomic disregulation, which causes a wood-free existence.
Kutner: One bad night and a couple of sunflower seeds and he’s got autonomic disregulation.
House: It’s more than just one. He can’t even remember the last time he was able to salute. It’s cool, huh?
Thirteen: B6 wouldn’t show up on a tox screen and we didn’t find anything at the house.
House: So all we have to do is filter the B6 out of his blood. Prep him for plasmapheresis.
Cameron: Just because he didn’t salute doesn’t mean he can’t.
House: [looks around] And can you find out where that voice keeps coming from? And tell it to get out of my head.
Kutner: The impotence could be psychological. He’s depressed. Hates his job.
Thirteen: Plasmapheresis has risks. We should have him spend the night in the sleep lab. See if he gets a reflex erection.
House: Confirmation is for wimps and altar boys. We don’t need to wait for a reflex. If he can’t get engorged the way God intended, he can’t get engorged.
Cameron: I’m not showing him my boobs.
House: Lack of response to your chest tells us nothing. Thirteen, show him… [exhales loudly] Where can I find a decent set of knockers around here?
Cameron: Your porn’s in the second drawer.
[Cut to Evan, lying in a bed, turning a magazine sideways. Kutner and Thirteen are in the observation room.]
Kutner: All set. Heart monitor, blood pressure monitor and the one on his junk.
Evan: This is humiliating.
Thirteen: We’re going to close the blinds to give you some privacy. The instruments will let us monitor your response. [the blinds close]
Kutner: I don’t get this guy. He has the coolest gig ever but he’s miserable about it.
Thirteen: But he figures quitting won’t do him any good. Figures he’d be unhappy anywhere.
Kutner: Our circumstances affect whether or not –
Thirteen: You’re pretty happy in this job, right?
Kutner: Sure.
Thirteen: Have you ever had a job where you were miserable?
Kutner: I once sold men’s fragrances in a department store.
Thirteen: And were you miserable?
Kutner: The pay was awful.
Thirteen: It was a miserable job, but you weren’t miserable.
Kutner: So, what about you? Are you happy?
Thirteen: Not particularly. Heart rate and BP are climbing.
Kutner: Got some activity on the tumescence monitor as well.
Thirteen: There’s nothing wrong with his naughty. It’s not B6 toxicity. [She looks up and Kutner gives a tiny laugh] Did he just… finish?
Kutner: Sometimes, uh, when you haven’t, you know, for a while…
Thirteen: His heart rate’s through the roof – 220 and climbing. [Evan groans]
Kutner: He’s headed for cardiac arrest.
[Cut to Evan, in the bed, clutching his chest. Thirteen and Kutner begin to treat him.]
[Cut to Diagnostics conference room the next day.]
Kutner: We shocked his heart back into sinus rhythm. He’s stable, at least for now.
Thirteen: Could be some sort of atypical sceptic reaction.
Foreman: Not without a fever.
Thirteen: Thus the word “atypical.”
House: In that case, it could be an atypical bunion.
[Cameron is leaning over the table in front of him, pointing out places on the charts for him to sign.]
Kutner: He used to smoke. Could be paraneoplastic syndrome caused by small cell lung cancer.
Foreman: He quit twenty years ago and his calcium levels are normal.
Cameron: [without pausing from charting] Could be Graves Disease. Extreme hyperthyroid disease leads to systemic problems including numbness, vision loss and cardiac arrest.
House: You want to be here.
Cameron: I have to be here.
House: Just say the word. I’ll fire Thirteen.
Cameron: Just sign the forms. [Thirteen looks up]
House: Smart move. I was bluffing. She’s right. We should fry the thyroid before it fries him.
Taub: Uh… I know it’s more exciting this way, but shouldn’t we confirm you’re right before destroying one of the most important glands in his body?
House: If that gland has drawn a bulls eye on his heart, then no.
Cameron: Nuking his thyroid puts him at risk for vascular lesions and all kinds of cancer. Protocol says we should do an iodine uptake test.
House: [whispers] “We?” [aloud] Anyone else want to run a useless test while Brock’s thyroid plots its next lethal move? [Thirteen raises her hand. Kutner and Taub follow] It was rhetorical.
Thirteen: You were sure about B6 toxicity, too.
Foreman: House is right. [House stops writing, mid-signature]
House: Seriously? I mean, I am, but you think so?
Foreman: If he goes into full-on thyroid storm, he’ll die. We gotta nuke his thyroid.
[He stands, followed by Kutner, Taub and Thirteen. House and Cameron stare at them as they leave.]
[Cut to hallway. Foreman and the new team come around the corner. Thirteen has her cell phone in her hand.]
Foreman: Hang up the phone.
Thirteen: Why? If we’re gonna nuke his thyroid…
Foreman: We’re not nuking the guy’s thyroid without proof that it’s Graves. Do the iodine uptake test.
Kutner: If House finds out…
Foreman: When House finds out… We’ll have the test results. And we’ll either do his procedure, or we won’t.
[Foreman walks off. Thirteen, Taub and Kutner get in the elevator.]
[Cut to the morgue. House is partially hidden by a body on a slab. Cuddy enters.]
Cuddy: What are you doing here?
House: Just grabbing a snack.
Cuddy: You keep food in the morgue?
House: Well, if I keep it in the lounge, everyone else eats it.
Cuddy: [holding up a food container with someone’s name on it] That’s ‘cause it’s everyone else’s food.
House: Oh. I thought it was just everyone else’s bags.
Cuddy: [throwing everything in a covered trash can] The accreditation board will light us on fire for this.
House: They’re not going to find out. Unless, of course, Conway planned on inspecting the morgue in, say… two minutes. [feigning ignorance] Is that why you’re here?
Cuddy: You’re going to get me fired over a sandwich?
House: No. Over a TV. And you’re not gonna get fired because you’re gonna fold.
Cuddy: No, I won’t.
House: But you’re gonna push it. So we need a safe word. So you can signal your unconditional surrender. [Conway enters] Call me “Sweet Sauce.” [he smiles at Conway and shakes his hand] Dr. House. I don’t think we’ve met.
Conway: Dr. Jaime Conway. I’ve heard your name.
House: Most people have. It’s also a noun. [pause] I sometimes come down here to relax, unwind. Maybe grab a –
Cuddy: Sweet Sauce. [Conway stares]
House: It’s a nickname.
Cuddy: An ironic nickname. Wow. It is almost two. Aren’t you supposed to be…
House: Oh, yeah. Yeah. ‘Cause those sick, blind kids aren’t going to read to themselves. See ya. [Almost out the door, he turns back] I recommend skipping C-26. Floater. Been in the river at least a week.
Conway: Thanks for the warning.
House: Any time. [leaves]
[Cut to House’s office. He is in his Eames chair, watching two men install a large, flat screen TV. Cameron enters, carrying two cardboard file boxes.]
Cameron: Doesn’t the doctors’ lounge have that same TV?
House: Nope. They’ve got a 12 inch, exactly like the one that used to be in here.
Cameron: Files are done.
House: I’ll be doing a dance of joy just as soon as my leg is healed. [to the maintenance men] Can you tilt that down?
Cameron: I know the paperwork annoys you, but patient records are important. You can’t just let them sit there.
House: I had to. In the name of science. I let the crap pile up and I see which team member is the most self-flagellating – breaks down, clears up the mess. Surprise was, it turned out to be you. Again. And you weren’t even registered as a competitor. You miss me.
Cameron: You miss me. You hired Thirteen to replace me.
House: Yeah, yeah, yeah. All pretty girls are fungible. You’re avoiding.
Cameron: I miss the job. I miss running around playing private investigator. I miss... the puzzles.
House: Seriously. I’ll fire Thirteen. Or Kutner, if you think Thirteen is hot.
Cameron: I don’t miss you.
[Cut to Evan’s room]
Evan: That iodine left a really weird aftertaste.
Taub: That’s the tracer. We’ll have the images in a couple of minutes. You must do okay with women, huh?
Kutner: I already asked him that.
Taub: And?
Evan: It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
Kutner: He feels unfulfilled.
Taub: I doubt it.
Evan: I’m lying?
Taub: I used to be a plastic surgeon. I’d talk about my work as shallow and meaningless. Truth is, I loved every boob job, every tummy tuck. Meaning doesn’t mean that much.
Evan: But you’re not a plastic surgeon anymore.
Taub: It’s complicated.
Evan: Are you happier?
Taub: It’s complicated.
Kutner: His thyroid looks normal.
Evan: So that’s good news, right?
[Taub joins Kutner by the computer]
Kutner: Everything look too bright to you?
Taub: It could be the monitor.
Kutner: It’s not the monitor. It’s the iodine. It’s everywhere. His body’s not filtering it.
Taub: His kidneys are failing.
[Cut to hallway
House: I told you to nuke his thyroid.
Foreman: It’s a good thing we didn’t. Kidney failure means it wasn’t graves.
House: So, your test screwed me and our patient’s kidneys. You practically poisoned him with iodine.
Foreman: Which he could have handled easily if his kidneys were healthy. All we did was reveal a new symptom. Usually you’re all for that.
House: Must be the rancid tinge of betrayal that’s put me off.
Foreman: You were wrong.
House: [turning on him] So tell me to my face. You never hesitated before. The Board’s turned you into a coward.
Foreman: I did it because it was the right thing to do.
House: You did it to pass an inspection.
Taub: Does it matter? Kidney failure on top of the other symptoms points to an autoimmune condition which means that any of his other organs could be next. We’ve already started dialysis. We need to run ANAs for autoimmune.
House: You’re right. You and the team, go measure the ceilings.
Taub: Excuse me?
House: Accreditation board guidelines state that no object can be less than 18 inches from the ceiling. Make sure we’re in compliance.
Foreman: There’s nothing in our office that would be less than…
House: I don’t mean us. I mean the whole hospital.
[He gets on an elevator, leaving Foreman and Taub looking at each other.]
[Cut to a wooden door that opens to reveal Wilson and Amber kissing and moving into the bedroom. There’s lots of heavy breathing.]
Amber: Let’s see how this baby handles.
[They stumble to the bed and flop down on it. Amber’s on her back, Wilson’s half on top of her. She opens her eyes wide and freezes. Wilson doesn’t notice at first. He continues kissing her works his way down to her chest as he opens her blouse. When he returns to her mouth, he realizes that she has stopped responding.]
Wilson: What?
Amber: You bought the firm mattress.
Wilson: I thought that’s the one you wanted.
Amber: It was. Why would you do that?
Wilson: Because… [laughs] Is this a trick question?
Amber: I left it up to you. You were supposed to get the one you wanted.
Wilson: I got the one you wanted because I love you.
Amber: No. [she pushes him off and sits up] You did it because that’s what you do. With all your ex-wives you did whatever they wanted because it was easier and you ended up resenting them. Don’t you dare do that to me.
Wilson: What? Take care of you?
Amber: Have you met me? I can take care of me. I need you to take care of you. I have work to do.
[She gets up, adjusting her hair and clothes, leaving Wilson on the bed looking bewildered.]
[Cut to House entering Evan’s room. He reads from a supermarket tabloid.]
House: You made it to page 8. Mysterious hospital visit for soap doc.
Evan: Wow. I’ll be sure to send my Mom a copy. They told me I have an autoimmune disease, like lupus or sarcoidosis.
[House pulls a stool and a cart to Evan’s bedside. He gets something out of a cupboard and, as the scene progresses, draws blood and does other non-painful tests on Evan.]
House: That’s what we’re here to find out.
Evan: You really as good as everyone seems to think you are?
House: Are you really as miserable as everyone seems to think you are?
Evan: I just want to do something that matters.
House: Nothing matters. We’re all just cockroaches, wildebeests dying on the river bank. Nothing we do has any lasting meaning.
Evan: And you think I’m miserable.
House: If you’re unhappy on the plane, jump out of it.
Evan: I want to but… I can’t.
House: Mmm. That’s the problem with metaphors. They need interpretation. Jumping out of a plane is stupid.
Evan: Well, what if I’m not in a plane? What if I’m just in a place I don’t want to be?
House: That’s the other problem with metaphors. Yes, what if you’re actually on an ice cream truck and outside are candy and flowers and virgins. You’re on a plane! We’re all on planes. Life is dangerous and complicated and… it’s a long way down.
Evan: So you’re afraid of change?
House: No, you’re afraid to change. You’d rather imagine that you can escape instead of actually try. ‘Cause if you fail, then you got nothing. So you’ll give up the chance of something real so you can hold onto hope. The thing is, hope is for sissies.'
Evan: When I get out of here, I’m not gonna be afraid anymore. I mean, how many guys get a second chance?
House: Too many. Half the people I save don’t deserve a second chance.
Evan: Now that I’ve got mine, I’m gonna set things right. I’m gonna start by being a better father to you. And to your sister.
House and Evan: And to your other sister.
House: You realize you’re reciting lines from last season?
Evan: We’re gonna do all the things I promised. Just help me get out of this bed.
[Machines start beeping. House opens the door and calls to the nurses’ station]
House: Cooling blankets in here. This guy’s brain is about to boil. [he returns to the bedside. He snaps his fingers twice to get Evan’s attention] Do you know where you are? What’s your name?
Evan: Dr. Brock Sterling.
[Cut to Diagnostics conference room, the next day.]
Thirteen: Fever rules out autoimmune. He’s sceptic. He’s got a massive infaction.
Kutner: We’ve got him on broad-spectrum antibiotics but he’s slipped from delirium into a coma.
House: Good news is the last time Brock was in a coma, he fathered two children.
Foreman: We need to identify the infection and get him on more targeted med, fast.
Kutner: What about pneumococcus? Causes heart problems and scepsis.
Thirteen: Not with the neuropathies in his foot and eyes. What about tetanus? It fits.
Taub: He had a tetanus booster last year. Lyme disease?
Kutner: He would have been sore all over.
Taub: There’s a thousand infections that could have caused this. We can start testing but he’ll be dead before the cultures grow.
Foreman: Unless it’s a fungus. We could see that under a microscope.
House: Test him for fungi, parasites, all creatures great and small.
Kutner: Where are you going?
House: To lie down. I need to think.
[Cut to House lying on a floral background with his hands clasped behind his head.]
House: Could be rat bite fever. But his glands aren’t swollen. Which one are you gonna get?
[He’s on a model bed in the mattress showroom.]
Wilson: She told me to get the one I want.
House: So get it. Listeria explains the sepsis, possibly also the heart problem.
Wilson: But not the numbness.
House: If the listeria caused encephalomyelitis which then caused the numbness.
Wilson: I want a waterbed.
House: Wow.
Wilson: I’ve always wanted one. I know it’s ridiculous. It’s just… There’s something nice about the thought of being rocked to sleep in water. [pause] No mocking? No Freudian analysis of how the waterbed is really a great big vagina I want to crawl into?
House: I’m ignoring you because you make me sad. He’s on ampicillin. Which means if it’s listeria he would have shown some improvement.
Wilson: No. It’s a whole… thing. You need special sheets and insurance and –
-
House: Who cares? You wanted one your whole life. You’re a grown up. You can afford it. Stores sell them.
Wilson: Most adults don’t go through life the way you do, House, indulging our every whim.
House: You don’t deserve to be happy.
Wilson: And yet I am. You?
[House doesn’t answer. He has pulled one of the pillows from behind his head and he is staring at the flower on it.]
Wilson (continues): Amber’ll think it’s stupid.
House: It is stupid. [he puts down the pillow and starts to leave] Live the dream, Wilson.
[Cut to nurses’ station.]
House: It’s not an infection. It’s an allergy. That’s why it’s not responding to antibiotics.
Foreman: This isn’t a soap opera, House. People don’t just wake up from comas the second you give them drugs.
House: Especially if we give them the wrong drugs. What’d the tests say?
Foreman: It was negative for fungus and parasites. But that doesn’t mean–
House: The more infections we rule out, the more likely it is that it’s not an infection.
Foreman: He has no history of allergies or asthma. Most importantly, none of his symptoms remotely resemble an allergic reaction.
House: Allergens could trigger an allergic vasculitis. That would explain the symptoms.
Foreman: One in a million times. Sceptic infection always explains his symptoms.
House: But an infection is never resistant to every antibiotic.
Foreman: An infection is rarely resistant –
House: And allergy never responds to antibiotics. Never beats rarely. QED I won. There were chrysanthemums in his dressing room.
Foreman: My God. Why didn’t you say he’d been exposed to plant life.
House: Chrysanthemums contain pyrethrins, a neurotoxin and a know allergen.
Foreman: He has an infection. If we give him steroids, we’ll kill him.
House: He has an allergy. If we don’t give him steroids, we’ll kill him.
Foreman: Not as fast.
House: Fast enough. We don’t have time for the rest of the tests. We have to do something. And what we’re doing right now isn’t working.
[House walks off, leaving Foreman staring after him.
[Cut to pharmacy. House approaches the pharmacist.]
House: A hundred milligrams methylprednisilone.
Pharmacist: Patients’ names?
House: It’s one patient.
Pharmacist: You want to give one patient a hundred milligrams? That’ll jump-start a car.
House: Perfect. The patient’s in a ’69 Ford Coma.
Pharmacist: Anything over 50 milligrams, I need a sign-off from Dr. Cuddy. It’s protocol. And the inspector’s here.
House: I am 99% certain that she’ll consent. [he heads behind the counter] For the sake of the 1%, why don’t I just…
Pharmacist: You’re not allowed back here.
House: Well, tell the inspector he can put it on my tab.
[House pulls drugs from the shelf. The pharmacist shakes his head and picks up the phone. House leaves, hanging up the phone on his way.]
House (continues): I didn’t mean now.
[Cut to Evan’s room. House is injecting the steroids in Evan’s IV line. Cuddy enters and starts checking Evan’s chart.]
Cuddy: 100 milligrams of methylprednisilone is an overdose.
House: We were wrong about the infection. He’s suffering from a severe allergic reaction.
Cuddy: The team hasn’t finished the test for allergy. His symptoms don’t –
House: In rare cases… Trust me. At the end of this conversation, I’m right.
Cuddy: Then confirm it. Get a blood test.
House: What is it about this severe and deepening coma that makes you think we got time for protocol?
Cuddy: Protocol has saved your patient from having his thyroid destroyed and his blood drained.
House: If you think I’m wrong, tell me I’m wrong. Don’t talk about protocol.
Cuddy: My job’s on the line. You’re job is on the line.
House: Okay. Here’s what you do. You wait three minutes, then you call security. By the time they get here and lock me up, I’ll be done. He gets to live and your ass gets to be covered.
Cuddy: If he dies, let me know. So I can pack my things.
[Cut to musical montage of PPTH at night. Evan is still in a coma. Foreman, Cuddy, the new team doing tests with microscopes, House balancing his oversized ball on his cane handle. Cuddy enters House’s office.]
Cuddy: Tests are negative. Patient’s negative for all floral allergies. [he follows her into the hall where she rings for an elevator] I’m gonna restart the antibiotics… if he’s still alive.
[Cut to Cuddy at the nurses’ station]
Cuddy: Ampicillin, 2 grams IV.
[Pan to Evan’s room. Foreman is checking on Evan.]
Foreman: Why? The steroids worked. House was right.
Cuddy: The test was negative. [she picks up the chart as House enters the room]
Foreman: He was still right. It was an allergy.
House: To what?
Evan: Thank you.
House: I was wrong. [to Cuddy] You should have stopped me. [he leaves]
[Cut to Cuddy’s office. She’s at her desk, facing the windows. Conway enters behind her.]
Conway: I heard about House’s patient. Bold move. And you backed him.
Cuddy: He was right.
Conway: He wasn’t even in the same neighborhood as right.
Cuddy: The patient’s alive.
Conway: Okay. The rules exist because 95% of the time, for 95% of the people, they’re the right thing to do.
Cuddy: And the other 5%?
Conway: Have to live by the same rules. Because everybody thinks they’re in that 5%. [She stares at him. He opens a folder as he sits down.] Okay. I notice that, uh, Dr. Chase…
[Cut to Amber, asleep in bed. She rolls over and the bed swooshes. It’s a water bed. Wilson isn’t there. She sits up. Cut to the living room. Amber is wrapped in the top sheet. Wilson is on the floor with a blanket.]
Amber: What are you doing out here?
Wilson: I can’t sleep. I hate the waterbed.
Amber: [sitting on the floor, next to him] I actually kind of like it.
Wilson: No. It’s awful. We’re returning it tomorrow.
Amber: Okay. [she lies down with him] I’m glad you got it, though.
Wilson: Me too. I hope they’ll take it back.
Amber: They will. [she snuggles closer, he chuckles]
[Cut to House watching Prescription Passions.]
Anna: You promised me you’d stop drinking. [a clunk as a glass hits a table]
Brock: Of course I’m drunk, Anna. They told me you’d never wake up from that coma.
Anna: But how could you get engaged to my sister?
Brock: We fell in love. [Brock and House both drink] What do you want from me Anna? I’m just a man.
Anna: And I’m just a woman. And as thrilled as I am about The Lady Slipper being the best nightclub Port Lawrence has ever seen, doesn’t compare to the happiness that I feel when –
[House pauses the picture on Brock taking a drink. He drops the remote and stands]
[Cut to Cuddy’s bedroom. She’s asleep and the phone is ringing. Once she answers it, the scene cuts between her and House in his office.]
Cuddy: Hello?
House: Don’t hang up. What was the verdict?
Cuddy: $200,000 fine.
House: You should have been fired.
Cuddy: Good night, House.
House: There are bubbles in his glass.
Cuddy: Can’t this wait until –
House: My patient is allergic to quinine. [Cuddy turns on the light and sits up.]
Cuddy: And you got this from bubbles?
House: The symptoms started two months ago. It’s also when Brock started downing gin and tonics like a Brit staving off malaria. The gin was fake. The tonic was real.
Cuddy: And tonic water is loaded with quinine. Huh. Nice job.
House: You should’ve been fired.
Cuddy: I’m taking back the TV.
House: I saved his life.
Cuddy: That wasn’t the deal.
House: The contract clearly stated no takesy backsides.
Cuddy: Good night, House.
House: What are you wearing.
Cuddy: Good night, House.
House: Good night, Cuddy.
[He closes his cell phone.]
[End]
