Written by: Pamela Davis
Directed by: Daniel Sackheim
Transcribed by: Rahul (rahulkudva)
DISCLAIMER: We don't own "HOUSE." It's owned by FOX and NBC/Universal, and produced by Heel and Toe Films and Bad Hat Harry Productions. This transcript is unofficial, and should UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES be copied or distributed, especially for commercial use.
[Arcade/Restaurant. A kid plays Whac-A-Mole. The smiling plastic mole pops out of its hole, and the ever-vigilant kid whacks it right back into the hole, with his foam hammer. He whacks another two. Typical carnival music plays in the background. Elsewhere, kids pull out mini-basketballs and throw them towards mini-nets. Other kids try their hands at video games.]
[In the midst of all this kiddie revelry, a rather irritable and testy teenage waiter, Jack (our POTW), walks holding a birthday cake for a kid named Tanner, who has (judging by the candles) just turned 10. Jack holds the cake up, trying to avoid the kids rushing past. A girl holds her glass up at him as he passes by her. Next to her, sits a younger boy.]
GIRL (KAMA): Uhh... I need a refill.
[Jack turns around and looks at the girl in irritation.]
JACK: You've already had three.
GIRL (KAMA): So what? They're free.
JACK: I got a birthday. Get it yourself.
[He walks off.]
GIRL (KAMA): [watching him leave] No wonder he doesn't get any tips.
[Jack comes up to the birthday party at a table. The kids cheer on seeing the cake. Jack seems a bit sick.]
JACK: All right! Who's ready to sing the Ralphie's Rumpus Birthday Rum-shake?
[He half-heartedly holds up his hand, introducing Ralphie. Ralphie, a guy in a squirrel costume with a red T-shirt with the letter R on it, enthusiastically jumps into view. The kids cheer in delight. Ralphie and Jack do the dance for the kids' entertainment. Ralphie has a distinctive "squirrelly" tone in his voice.]
RALPHIE & JACK: [singing] Let's sing! Let's ride!
Let's bling! Let's slide!
It's time for Ralphie!
We'll dance, eat cake,
And do the Rum-shake.
It's time for Ralphie.
[Midway through the song and dance, Jack starts to slur on the words and stumble about. He stops. There's a glassy look on his face, sweat forming on his face. Ralphie prances past him.]
RALPHIE: [normal voice, quietly] You okay, man?
[JACK'S POV: The kids clap and yell in excitement. They all appear to be moving in slow motion. Ralphie's huge squirrel-head comes into view.]
RALPHIE: You okay?
[JACK'S POV: The kids seem a bit concerned about Jack.]
[Jack slowly lurches forward and falls against the birthday table. He vomits on the cake, freaking out all the nearby kids. He clutches his chest in agony and vomits some more on the cake and some presents. He grunts out in pain. Ralphie runs up and pulls him away from the frightened and nauseous kids.]
RALPHIE: OK, all right. Let's get you in the back. C'mon. [addressing the kids in "Ralphie"-voice] It's okay, kids. Sorry.
[It's anything but okay. Jack, clutching his chest even tighter, falls to his knees on the floor. Another waiter runs up to help.]
[CGI POV: Zoom through Jack's chest.The heart beats a couple of times and then... just stops. We hear defibrillator paddles charging up and see an electric shock going through the heart.]
[Zoom out. Time lapse. Paramedics attend to Jack, shocking him.]
PARAMEDIC 1: Got a heart beat.
[The girl and boy from before come running up, looking scared.]
GIRL (KAMA): Jack?!
PARAMEDIC 1: I need you to step back.
GIRL (KAMA): He's my brother.
BOY (WILL): [distressed, echo-ey] Jack, wake up!
PARAMEDIC 1: Call your parents. Tell them to go to Princeton-Plainsborough Hospital.
GIRL (KAMA): Our parents died! He's all we've got!
[Camera holds on Jack, as we...]
[Hotel Parking lot. Day. A Tow-truck has hitched up Wilson's car. An understandably upset Wilson walks up to the officer with the clipboard.]
WILSON: I was not parked illegally. I... I live here.
OFFICER: [pulls out the warrant from the clipboard] Love note... from Detective Tritter.
[The officer walks off, leaving an incredulous Wilson to watch his car being towed away.]
[PPTH. Diagnostics office. House and the Ducklings confer over Jack's case.]
FOREMAN: Heart attack. His cath was clean and echo showed no functional abnormalities.
CAMERON: Fatigue, night sweats, weight loss preceded the heart attack. Eighteen-year-old kid. Suddenly an orphan _and_ a single father of two.
HOUSE: [looking at the file, loudly] Party of five! Powerful stuff. The OC of its day. Stress explains everything except the itchy feet.
CAMERON: Athlete's foot covers that. Waiters work twelve hours a day in old sneakers.
HOUSE: Hmm. Good idea. Ignore the symptoms. Makes your job easy.
CAMERON: [protesting] I'm not ignoring the symptom. I'm explaining a symptom.
[House seems to have had a thought.]
FOREMAN: Kid's been hanging over a toilet despite anti-emetic therapy. Persistent vomiting could indicate increased intra-cranial pressure, tumour...
HOUSE: Sure. Heart problems, gotta be the brain. Thank God there's a neurologist in the room.
[He dry-swallows a Vicodin or two.]
FOREMAN: [deadpan] Right. It's the feet. If only I was a podiatrist.
CHASE: Probably got an intestinal virus from one of those feral kids running around. Repeated vomiting causes an electrolyte imbalance which leads to an arrhythmia, which leads to the heart attack...
[As Chase talks, House gets up from his seat at the glass table, limps over to the desk near his office door, picks up an envelope and limps back.]
CHASE: [continued] ...and itchy feet.
[Foreman frowns at the brown-nose attempt. House sits down at the glass table again.]
HOUSE: Nope! [slaps the envelope down on the table]
CHASE: That's... it? Nope?
HOUSE: I've said too much already.
FOREMAN: This isn't a game, House.
[House is bending over a sheet of paper, writing something on it.]
HOUSE: No, it's not. But it could be.
[Cameron tries to sneak a casual peek, but House conspiratorially blocks her view of the paper with his left arm.]
FOREMAN: [testily] What are you writing?
HOUSE: [still writing] Nothing.
CHASE: If you know the diagnosis, why don't you...?
HOUSE: [finishes writing, sits back upright] How are you gonna learn to swim unless I take off your floaties and throw you into shark-infested waters?
[He licks the envelope.]
CAMERON: You can't know what's wrong after a thirty second perusal of his file.
HOUSE: Apparently you can't. Now what's a game without rules? Uhh, no tagbacks, no biting, you get one test each and the clock runs until lunch.
[He writes something on the envelope and gets up and limps over to the whiteboard.]
HOUSE: If I'm right, he'll still be alive. If I'm wrong, it's a very cruel game.
[He uses a magnetic paperclip container to hold the envelope in place. On the envelope is written "THE GAME IS A ITCHY FOOT".]
[Lawyer's office. Wilson enters the office.]
LAWYER: You're late. I charge from the time you're supposed to be here.
WILSON: Tritter towed my car. He's frozen my assets. He's on a crusade.
LAWYER: [opening his briefcase] You're a person-of-interest in a narcotics investigation. You're linked to their suspect and his activities.
WILSON: [upset] I'm not Pablo Escobar's evil henchman cruising into Miami in a cigarette boat. I'm a physician who prescribed Vicodin to a pain patient.
LAWYER: [holding up a sheet of paper] This police report you faxed me, says they found six hundred pills in his apartment. You prescribe those?
WILSON: [exasperated] He's in chronic pain. This is obviously an abuse of power.
LAWYER: Is that a yes or a no?
WILSON: [with restraint] Patients build up a tolerance over the years...
LAWYER: Perfect motive for him to forge those scrips. Still don't have an answer.
WILSON: What, are we like role-playing?
LAWYER: [packing his briefcase] Yeah. And you suck at it. Which is really unfortunate, because you're pretending to be you. I gotta get to court.
WILSON: Michael told me you could help me get my car back.
LAWYER: Yeah... divorce lawyers usually know the ins and outs of drug enforcement. You want your car back? You're gonna have to give the cops what they want.
WILSON: [mock-gratitude] Thanks. Usually people feel helpless in these situations.
LAWYER: Dr. House is probably going to jail. You keep on lying for him, you'll go right along with him.
[He leaves. Wilson seems pensive.]
[PPTH hallway. The Ducklings try to decide what test to perform on Jack.]
CHASE: [holding Jack's file] House was on this page when he got that annoying "I'm-such-a-genius" look.
CAMERON: What's that?
CHASE: Patient history.
FOREMAN: He's eighteen. Probably drinks, smokes, does drugs. How close am I?
[They enter the elevator.]
CHASE: [reading] Quit drugs when his parents died. Quit smoking.
[The elevator door closes.]
CHASE: House didn't mock my viral idea. He just said it was wrong. Which means he didn't want to give reasons, which means I must have been close. [perking up] I'm thinking bacteria. I'm doing a blood culture.
[The elevator opens and they file out.]
FOREMAN: I am doing an MRI.
CAMERON: If it was a tumour, intra-cranial pressure could cause his brain to herniate [mocking] before lunch.
FOREMAN: Same thing with the stress test.
CAMERON: Which is why I'm ditching it.
CHASE: What are you doing instead?
CAMERON: [smug] Not telling.
FOREMAN: Seriously, you're playing his game?
CAMERON: We're all playing his game. Might as well enjoy it.
[Jack's room. Chase is attending to Jack. Kama and Will are also there, doing homework.]
CHASE: Anybody else sick at work?
[Jack shakes his head.]
WILL: [looking up from his homework] I had a stomach-ache before him.
JACK: This isn't your fault, Will. Keep working.
WILL: [indignantly] My brother's in the hospital. Mrs. Tully won't care if I finish my homework.
JACK: Your brother cares if you finish your homework.
[Will reluctantly looks back down at his book. Chase looks up at the door and sees House limping inside. House sidles up to the kids. He sits on Will's chair's armrest. Chase frowns.]
HOUSE: [juts his head towards Will] Can I be your imaginary friend?
[The kids look at their brother.]
CHASE: [reassuring] He's a doctor.
HOUSE: [to Jack] How're the feet? They still itch?
JACK: Uhm... is that important?
HOUSE: I don't know. [to Chase] Is it?
[Chase doesn't say anything.]
HOUSE: What kinda drugs you into?
CHASE: [quickly] You don't have to talk about that right now.
JACK: [unaffected] No, that's okay. I don't keep secrets from them. They know I did drugs before our parents died.
HOUSE: Clever. Admit the past. Deny the present.
JACK: I'm clean. I'm raising two kids. It'd be pretty irresponsible, wouldn't it?
HOUSE: But confiding it in eight-year-olds is okay.
JACK: If I'm open with them, then they'll be open with me.
HOUSE: Shyeah! Turning the other cheek's a good strategy in boxing. Kids don't lie because they have trust issues. They lie because they have something to hide. [looking down at Will] Look at him. Sitting there doing nothing. He's still lying.
WILL: We don't lie to Jack.
HOUSE: Spelling test you failed or forgot to...?
WILL: [coolly] No.
HOUSE: Math test?
WILL: [still cool] No.
HOUSE: Fight with the kid sitting next to you?
WILL: He doesn't sit next to me.
[Whoops! Will looks guiltily at Jack. House looks triumphant.]
HOUSE: The other one's probably having sex.
KAMA: I am not!
HOUSE: Yet. But when you start, you're gonna lie about it.
[Chase glances at House.]
[MRI Room. A nervous Jack is being moved into the MRI. Foreman sits in the adjoining room, looking over the MRI scan results. Camera pans to show House sitting smugly next to him. The machine beeps.]
FOREMAN: [singsong] I'm not playing. [into microphone] Keep very still, Jack. This won't take long.
[House suddenly leans forward and speaks into the microphone.]
HOUSE: [into mic] How much dope did you smoke?
[Jack, inside the MRI, frowns.]
JACK: Does he have to be here?
FOREMAN: [into mic] No. Ignore him. [to House] 'S not his lungs.
HOUSE: Never said it was. [into mic] What about cigarettes? How'd you quit? Gum? Patch? Hypnosis?
[Foreman rolls his eyes in annoyance.]
HOUSE: [to Foreman] He went from two packs to nothing. Cold turkey.
[Foreman tries ignoring House, by concentrating on the monitor.]
HOUSE: Or we could just make small talk. You still seeing that nurse in Paeds? I just don't think she's right for you. You need someone detached, calculating, ambitious. You need yourself in a skirt.
[Foreman looks at House and decides on the lesser of two annoying evils.]
FOREMAN: Jack, he asked you a question.
JACK: I didn't really quit. Just sorta lost taste for it.
HOUSE: Hmm. Interesting. Sounds like one of those symptom thingies.
FOREMAN: He's still puking and he had a heart attack aaand... itchy feet! It's not his lungs.
HOUSE: Never said it was.
[Foreman looks at the results.]
HOUSE: [exaggerated shivering] Brrr! Ice-cold.
[Foreman shoots House an icy glare.]
[Jack's room. Cameron's up. As Jack lies in bed, she injects something into his IV line.]
CAMERON: I'm injecting your [?] to see if your heart attack was caused by a spasm in the vessels surrounding your
[As she speaks, she looks at the monitor. House pops his head behind hers to see the monitor as well.]
CAMERON: Let me know if anything feels...
[She turns around and finds herself looking directly at House. She pauses a moment.]
[She's a bit uncomfortable with House there.]
JACK: If the problems are at my heart, why did that other doctor look at my brain?
HOUSE: Yeah. [to Cameron] Why did that other doctor look at his brain?
CAMERON: [ignoring House, to Jack] We're just trying to eliminate as many possibilities as we can. [glares at House]
HOUSE: So because you think a spasm causes heart attacks, you're gonna induce another spasm? [to Jack] Did you consent to this?
[Jack looks fearfully at Cameron.]
CAMERON: [encouragingly] Everything's under control. Tests are gonna identify which arteries are affected so we can repair them.
[She turns back to the monitor.]
HOUSE: Your meds don't seem to be doing anything. So either you're wrong... or his system hasn't been pushed enough to set anything off.
[Cameron rolls her eyes and turns to stare a couple of daggers into House. House moves out of her way. She goes over to Jack's side and takes a breath.]
CAMERON: You wanna get back home, right? I mean, you're probably already falling behind with the housework, bills.
[House smiles approvingly at Cameron's scare-tactics and looks at Jack's increasing heart-rate.]
CAMERON: [wide-eyed, smiling] How many sick days you think you'll get before they replace you?
[The heart rate is steadily climbing.]
HOUSE: Heart rate's up. Nothing else.
JACK: They can't fire me if I'm sick.
CAMERON: Right! You're irreplaceable. Who else would they find qualified to dance with a rodent?
[Her words are having the desired effect on him.]
CAMERON: [voice rising] How can you even support your family? What happens when those kids grow out of their clothes, when they get sick?
[Almost feeling sick herself, she turns round to House.]
HOUSE: Still no spasm.
CAMERON: [getting in Jack's face] They'll take those kids away from you, Jack. Maybe I should bring them in here right now so that you can kiss them... goodbye!
[Jack starts to cry at the possibility. But no spasm.]
HOUSE: [mock-scolding] Can't you see his heart is fine?! Stop torturing him! What kind of doctor are you?
[Cameron feels like a heel.]
[PPTH lobby. Wilson enters the hospital, shivering despite his overcoat. Cuddy is at the nurses station.]
CUDDY: [off-screen to someone] Wonderful. Thank you so much. I'll be back.
[Wilson walks over to the nurses station and picks up a few notes put on the table for him. Cuddy looks at him.]
CUDDY: You're just getting here?
WILSON: [irritably] Buses suck.
CUDDY: Where's your car?
WILSON: It's a hostage! Tritter wants me to testify against House.
[He starts moving towards the clinic. Cuddy follows him.]
CUDDY: You're not going to?
WILSON: Is that a question or an order?
CUDDY: Any sort of conviction will cost House his license.
[Wilson stops to face her.]
WILSON: Which will cost this hospital. Relax. I'm not gonna mess with your precious resource. I told my lawyer to tell Tritter to go to hell. Marko!!
[He walks to the pharmacy.]
WILSON: [loudly] Why are all my prescriptions getting bounced back?!
MARKO: Sorry, Dr. Wilson. I was trying to call you. Where's your phone?
WILSON: In my car. My patients, on the other hand, are here and need their medications.
MARKO: I'm sorry, I can't. [whispering] Your DEA number's been suspended.
[Wilson is absolutely stunned.]
[Diagnostics office. It's past lunch. House goes over the Ducklings' test results.]
HOUSE: Why so sad? Still a chance that Chase got it right.
[He holds up a test result sheet and pretends to read it.]
HOUSE: Ohh! That was suspenseful for about two seconds.
[Chase shoots House a look.]
HOUSE: Blood culture was negative for bacteria.
[House drops the sheet on the glass table. Chase picks it up and reads it.]
CHASE: Positive for Hepatitis A?
HOUSE: [stroking his stubble] Hmm! I wonder who could've ordered that extra test? Must be somebody who knew what persistent vomiting, sudden distaste for nicotine and itchy feet have in common.
FOREMAN: Hep-A doesn't explain the heart attack.
HOUSE: No, but as Chase so deftly pointed out earlier, puking does. And Hep-A explains the puking. If this had been real-life, instead of just games...
[He pulls the envelope from under the magnet, but is interrupted from going further by Wilson, who enters looking really spent and upset.]
WILSON: The DEA just revoked my prescription privileges.
HOUSE: But who's gonna prescribe my Vicodin?
WILSON: [deadpan] Yes, well, that's why I'm here. This is a disaster for you.
HOUSE: Relax. Tritter's just getting desperate. He's got no real evidence. He's trying to squeeze you into ratting.
WILSON: I'm not gonna let him squeeze my patients.
HOUSE: They'll be fine. Also your cancer medicine sucks anyway.
WILSON: I'm gonna use your team to do my prescribing till this is straightened out.
HOUSE: [looking at the envelope in his hand] Suddenly this doesn't seem nearly as dramatic.
[He drops the envelope on the table.]
HOUSE: Go pump IVIG into the kid. Cure him and get him out of here.
[He limps off towards his office.]
[Cameron opens the envelope eagerly.]
CAMERON: [taken aback] No. "Chase - Blood test for bacteria. Foreman - MRI, too stubborn to check the lungs. Cameron - nice try, no spasm."
[They all look puzzled at how he knew what tests they would perform.]
[Aerial shot of PPTH. Day.]
[Jack's room. Jack is reading a fairy-tale to Will, who sits on the bed with him. Kama sits nearby, writing in her diary.]
JACK: "But the princess sat, and sat, and sat, [speaking towards Kama] pretending not to listen, pretending to write in her journal, with the flowers on it. Pretending she didn't like stories about eight-year-olds who save the world.
KAMA: [smiling] I'm eleven.
JACK: 'S why you can no longer save the world.
WILL: [eagerly] I'm eight!
JACK: [laughs] We're completely dependent on you.
[Foreman enters cheerfully.]
FOREMAN: [brightly] 'Morning!
FOREMAN: Good news. We can take you off the IVIG. The Hep-A has cleared your system. You'll be good to go by tomorrow.
[Will silently exults. Kama smiles. Foreman looks at Jack's chart.]
JACK: So how do you think I got it?
FOREMAN: Could have been contaminated food. Could have been from cleaning the bathrooms at work. Or it could've been...
[He refrains from saying the other, less decent way of contracting Hep-A in front of the kids.]
JACK: [smiling] Don't worry. They've heard it all.
FOREMAN: [leaning closer to Jack, whispering] Analingus is a common way.
FOREMAN: You should just tell the people that you've dated that they should get themselves checked.
JACK: Uhh, don't worry. I've been too busy chasing after these guys to go spelunking.
KAMA: [grinning] You're gross...
[Jack chuckles. Will starts shuffling on the bed, looking at Jack's left arm.]
KAMA: ... I think.
WILL: Does your arm hurt?
JACK: Arm's fine, bro.
WILL: Then why is it bleeding?
JACK: It's not, it's...
[He holds up his left arm and is shocked to see blood pouring out from the IV patch (near a cool-looking tattoo). Foreman rushes over to the drawers.]
FOREMAN: Raise your arm above your head!
[Jack complies. Kama gets up, seeing blood now pouring out of Jack's right ear.]
KAMA: [scared] Your ear...
[Jack feels the bleed and covers his ear.]
KAMA: ... and your nose!
[Now blood comes flowing out of Jack's nose. He feels it and spits out some that has entered his mouth. Nearby, Will stands in fear. Foreman applies a bunch of tissues on Jack's nose to curb the bleeding. Kama stands helplessly nearby.]
[Outside Jack's room. The bleeding stopped, Jack is resting, albeit uncomfortably. Kama watches him from outside.]
FOREMAN: [vo] High PT and PTT in Jack's blood panel confirm a coagulopathy.
HOUSE: So, we cured the Hep-A, something else pops up. Interesting.
[He puts his cane on top of the whiteboard and pulls out a marker, cancelling out "HEP A". His right arm seems to be paining.]
HOUSE: What infections cause DIC?
CAMERON: You okay?
HOUSE: rubbing his shoulder] Hurt my shoulder playing Fantasy Football.
[He writes DIC on the board.]
HOUSE: Should we discuss what causes DIC or should we just send the kid back to his miserable life?
FOREMAN: He's not miserable.
HOUSE: Right. He's thrilled that his parents are dead and his life is over.
CAMERON: The restaurant's prob'ly teeming with E. Coli, Eikenella and strep.
[House takes out his Vicodin bottle and shakes it. Not many remaining.]
CAMERON: Kids don't wash their hands between a potty and the party and...
CHASE: Or it's a food borne toxin. Jack eats at that cesspool everyday.
FOREMAN: [skeptically] Jack's the only one who got sick?
[House dry-swallows a Vicodin.]
FOREMAN: Kid's got tattoos, piercings and probably some nasty little girl loaned him the Hep-A. Could've also given him syphilis or gonorrhea.
[Wilson enters, looking tired.]
WILSON: I need one of you.
HOUSE: Take Cameron. [to her] Your idea was dumb anyway.
[With a petty look on her face, she leaves with Wilson.]
HOUSE: Chase, I need you to head back to that "cesspool" and get me the kid's puke. [rubs his shoulder] Foreman, do an LP and have Cameron run down that potty-party theory.
CHASE: Why don't I just test him?
HOUSE: [shiftily] Let's not discuss this in front of the help.
[He jerks his head towards his office and goes there. Chase and Foreman exchange a look. Foreman leaves.]
[House's office. House sits at his table. Chase stands in front of him.]
HOUSE: The amount of vomiting that kid did, would be enough toxins left in his system to show up in his blood. Since he vomited in the toilet here, instead of on somebody, that restaurant's our only source of essential vomit.
CHASE: [suspicious] And you couldn't say that in front of Foreman?
HOUSE: No. I couldn't say this in front of Foreman. [pulls out his near-empty Vicodin bottle] I need a refill.
CHASE: Detective Tritter knows about the scrips I wrote before.
HOUSE: Exactly. You stop now, it'll look suspicious.
CHASE: Does anyone fall for that argument?
HOUSE: Write the scrip.
CHASE: [firm] No.
HOUSE: One prescription isn't gonna...
CHASE: We both know it's not gonna be just one. I'd rather lose my job than lose my license.
[House glares at him. Chase leaves. House holds up the bottle, contemplating.]
[Wilson's office. Wilson goes over the prescriptions he needs Cameron to write.]
WILSON: [reading from a file] Daniel Silvers. Prostate cancer. Needs filgrastim, two weeks' supply. [opens another file] Andrea Donovan. Breast cancer. Just needs her refill of megestrol.
[He notices she's only looking at him.]
WILSON: You're not writing.
CAMERON: You want me to write?
WILSON: Well, you could phone them in, but eventually... yeah. Probably somebody's gonna want something written down.
CAMERON: [balking] I... haven't met these people.
WILSON: I have. I've diagnosed them and everything.
CAMERON: I know. [off Wilson's look] I know! I'm not saying I don't trust you.
WILSON: Just my diagnosis.
CAMERON: These are gonna be my prescriptions.
WILSON: [getting upset] They're my patients. My prescriptions.
CAMERON: My name! That Tritter will read on the scrip. He wants to make you miserable, you don't think he's gonna ask questions?
[Wilson sighs and wipes his face.]
[Outside Arcade/Restaurant. Chase is talking to Ralphie (in squirrel costume, sans the head), in front of the dumpsters.]
CHASE: Is there anything Jack does that no one else does? Anything special duties?
RALPHIE: [looking into the dumpsters] No, we got lots of bussers.
CHASE: What kinda cleaning products do you use?
RALPHIE: Well, we got a buncha kids running around, sticking everything in their mouths, so we can't use anything toxic.
[He finds the dumpster he's looking for.]
RALPHIE: That's it.[hands the squirrel head to Chase] Monday's trash.
[He opens the dumpster lid fully and the one beside that as well. Chase looks a bit disgusted at the contents, with flies buzzing around.]
CHASE: So there's no one who can maybe help get the bags out?
RALPHIE: [smiling] Sorry. Short-handed.
CHASE: I can tip.
RALPHIE: I'm pretty sure Jack's puke is in a blue trashbag with the wrapped gifts, but if you find spaghetti, that's the wrong vomit.
[Patting Chase's shoulder, he leaves. Chase puts on his rubber gloves. He pulls out a trashbag, causing its liquid contents to come flowing out through a hole in the bag. He drops it in disgust.]
[Clinic. Wilson is speaking to a cancer patient. She has a scarf around her head. Cameron sits on a chair in a corner.]
PATIENT (BETH): How much longer do I have to stay on this medication? I mean, I'm nauseous all the time. Maybe I should go back on the tamoxifen.
WILSON: [encouragingly] You're doing so much better on the Anastrazole, Beth. I'm reluctant to make a change.
BETH: [upset] I can't play with my daughter or pick her up from school. I can barely get up and tuck her in at night. There's got to be something else. [takes a sideways glance at Cameron.] Who is she?
WILSON: Well, as you know, this is a teaching hospital.
BETH: She's a student?
CAMERON: [sitting upright] No, I'm a doctor.
[Beth turns to look at her.]
CAMERON: I'm assisting Dr. Wilson today.
BETH: Why? Do you think he got my diagnosis wrong?
CAMERON: [uh-oh] No, I'm sure...
[Beth turns to face Wilson.]
WILSON: No. No. She's just consulting regarding my... prescriptions.
BETH: [turning to Cameron, incredulous] You think he got my meds wrong?
CAMERON: [deer in the headlights] No... it's just...
WILSON: [defensively] No!
BETH: [turns back to Wilson] Then why is she here?
[Wilson doesn't answer. He looks at Cameron.]
[Jack's room. Foreman is preparing to perform the lumbar puncture on Jack. He pushes the needle into Jack's back. Kama comes up to look.]
KAMA: What are you doing now?
FOREMAN: Gonna get a sample of your brother's spinal fluid. Where's Will?
[Foreman frowns and goes back to the LP.]
KAMA: Is that gonna hurt?
FOREMAN: It's gonna help us figure out what's making him sick. Shouldn't you be in class too?
KAMA: Teacher workday.
FOREMAN: [always the skeptic] For you, but not Will?
KAMA: Yeah. Didn't make sense to me, either.
[Foreman gets back to the LP.]
KAMA: Can I help?
FOREMAN: [thinks] Well, I guess it's quicker than calling a nurse... and a truant officer. 'Kay, grab his shins, push his knees up towards his chest.
[She does as told. Jack grimaces.]
FOREMAN: Now hold them there tight.
KAMA: This all nurses do?
[Foreman prepares to collect the spinal fluid sample.]
FOREMAN: [chuckles] My boss doesn't trust them to do anything else.
[The sample is being collected. Kama looks at Jack. He's breathing heavily.]
KAMA: Is he gonna die?
[Foreman looks at her.]
FOREMAN: No. No one's gonna die.
KAMA: [smart-ass] In the whole world ever? That's so great.
FOREMAN: [chuckles] I meant...
KAMA: I know what you meant. But I also know bad things do happen. My dad always had a few drinks when theu went out. Always said he'd be okay to drive. [shrugs sadly] Until he wasn't. I would just like some warning this time.
[Foreman looks at Kama, sympathetically.]
FOREMAN: We're nowhere near anything like that happening right now.
[Kama nods slowly.]
[Foreman places the sample on the nearby cart. He places his hand on Jack's side to roll him on his back.]
FOREMAN: Let's get him back over.
[He starts to pull Jack's side slowly.]
[CGI POV: Fast zoom into Jack's right side. The rib snaps clean off.]
[Jack yells out in pain, giving Foreman a start.]
KAMA: What was that?! What'd you do?
[She looks accusingly at Foreman, as Jack moans in pain.]
[Physical Therapy room. House is getting his right arm rotated slowly by a physical therapist. Foreman stands in front of him.]
HOUSE: You broke his rib?
FOREMAN: I barely touched him.
HOUSE: Which means... [a slight cracking sound is heard] Oww!
NURSE: [smug] Found it.
HOUSE: Fix it! Osteomyelitis. Means the infection's spread to his bones. Which means it's either bacterial or viral and not... [grimaces and yells] Oww! [to the nurse] I hired you to take away the pain. Is there some confusion?
NURSE: Ever thought about using your cane one the proper side?
HOUSE: Yeah, that's the issue. Friday night, my cane suddenly noticed it was on the wrong side.
[He makes eyes at Foreman, who smirks.]
HOUSE: [to Foreman] Can you score me some Vicodin?
FOREMAN: [without hesitation] No. I did a needle aspiration to confirm whether...
HOUSE: How long till the cultures...?
[The nurse pulls his arm back. House throws his head back and whoops in pain.]
HOUSE: Why do you only do that when I'm talking.
[The nurse releases his arm.]
NURSE: You gotta rest your shoulder.
[House reaches for his cane, but the nurse grabs it from him.]
NURSE: And we're gonna get you on some different equipment.
[House looks at Foreman in disbelief. Foreman smiles back.]
[PPTH lab. Chase and Cameron are performing tests, when House enters, his right arm in a sling, his left arm resting on a new cane - a metal one with four prongs. Foreman enters with him as well. Cameron looks up from her microscope at him and then at his new acquisition.]
CAMERON: Nice cane.
HOUSE: [salaciously] If I know what you mean. [exaggerated wink] Chase you can stop doing that.
CHASE: I'm almost finished.
FOREMAN: He's got osteomyelitis. Means you're wrong about food-borne toxins.
[He crosses over to the printer and pulls out a printout.]
FOREMAN: Aaaand... [to Cameron] You can stop too. It's syphilis.
CAMERON: You sure? [looks in the microscope again]
FOREMAN: [holding out the paper] Read the printout.
[She grabs it and looks at it, surprised. She looks at her results in dismay.]
CAMERON: He's also positive for Eikenella.
[House looks at an equally confused Foreman. He goes and looks into Cameron's microscope to verify.]
CHASE: One of you two screwed up.
CAMERON: [defensively] Not a chance.
HOUSE: [looking back up] Or this kid is a lot sicker than we thought. [to Chase] Finish that test. Should be impossible to get two right answers to one question.
FOREMAN: It's okay to have three?
[Foreman also takes a look into Cameron's microscope. House moves behind Chase to look at his results.]
CHASE: Apparently, he's positive for botulism too.
[The monitor shows the results of Chase's test.]
HOUSE: Sooo... we knock down one infection and three more pop up.
[The Ducklings look up at him.]
HOUSE: I think this game is rigged.
[Jack's room. Jack lies in bed, while Kama sits beside him. Suddenly, Jack's eyes roll up and he starts seizing. Kama goes over to him.]
KAMA: Jack? [panicked] Somebody help!
[Two nurses run over; one attends to Jack, while the other pulls Kama outside.]
FOREMAN: [vo] We managed to clear all three infections out of his system, but now he's having seizures every few
[House's office. House lies on the floor, rotating his right arm. The Ducklings stand around him.]
HOUSE: He's gotta be immuno-compromised.
CHASE: No. White count was normal and he was negative for HIV.
HOUSE: Well, if he's not immuno-compromised, why is he acting like he's immuno-compromised? What do the seizures
FOREMAN: Nothing. There were no structural abnormalities on the CT. Non-focal neuro exam. No electrolyte imbalance. Nothing.
HOUSE: What do unexplained seizures and really sick eighteen-year-olds have in common?
FOREMAN: You're thinking trauma?
HOUSE: [lifting his head up, clutching his shoulder] I'm thinking drugs. [gets up] He's an admitted user. Drugs crashed his immune system.
[He tosses the red-and-grey fuzzball to Chase.]
CAMERON: Tox screen was clean.
HOUSE: [putting on his suit] Clean tox screen means there's no drugs in his blood or urine. There could still be drugs trapped in his fat cells from the good old days.
CHASE: If they were in his fat, why would they be affecting him now?
HOUSE: A keen observer would notice that he's had some digestive issues lately.
[He struggles to put on the sling on his right arm. Cameron helps him out.]
HOUSE: His weight loss could've burned off fat cells and released the drugs back into his system.
[It's time for the weekly uncomfortable moment with Cameron. This one lasts 6 seconds.]
FOREMAN: 'S no way to know. It's impossible to test fat cells for drugs.
HOUSE: But it's not impossible to make him lose more weight.
CHASE: You want us to starve him, so we can drive him into another seizure and maybe a heart attack, just so we can run another tox screen?
HOUSE: That'd be cruel. Just sweat it out of him.
[PPTH sauna room. Jack sits in the sauna, which is going at full blast. Three scrubs-clad Sweat-Glazed Ducklings sit around him. Jack is wearing a towel and a monkey cap.]
JACK: I haven't touched a thing since the night my parents died.
FOREMAN: [too steamed to talk] Drugs stay in your system a long time.
[Jack shakes a bit. The Ducklings look at him, but no dice.]
JACK: I was high the night the cops came to tell us what had happened. You know the first thing I did when they told me? I laughed. I'm not the person I was when they died. I wish they could see that.
CHASE: I'm sure that they're watching and I'm sure they're proud.
JACK: That's what Will's guidance counsellor keeps telling me.
FOREMAN: What do you tell him?
JACK: I tell him it's crap. Our parents live on in our memories, they don't live on.
[Five seconds later, Jack's eyes roll up and he falls to the floor, seizing. The Ducklings rush to help him.]
CAMERON: Hold him still!
[Foreman holds Jack's left arm tightly.]
CHASE: Don't break his arm!
CAMERON: We'll fix it. We need to get a sample.
[Cameron gets the sample and tries to stop Jack's head from convulsing so much.]
[PPTH hallway. A sweaty Foreman walks up to House (still with the four-pronged cane). House is signing something at the pharmacy.]
FOREMAN: House! Bad news.
HOUSE: Look at you. Couldn't have sent Cameron down here to this air-conditioned hallway to deliver the bad news?
FOREMAN: Jack seized again. But his blood was clean, completely drug-free.
HOUSE: So he just happened to have a seizure at the exact time that we stuck him in a sauna.
[As they walk, they are passed by an elderly gentleman, using a normal cane.]
FOREMAN: It's not a coincidence. He's still seizing every four hours whether we stick him in a sauna or not.
[House stumbles as he tries to use the new cane. He turns to the elderly guy at the elevator.]
HOUSE: [dramatic] Oh my God! Why're you using that?
ELDERLY GUY: I've had it for years.
HOUSE: No, that's... [shakes his head] that's gonna make your shoulder hurt. You need one of these.
[He thumps his new cane in front of the man and takes his (elderly guy's) cane from him. He rips off the sling and starts walking with Foreman, cane in the right hand.]
FOREMAN: [to elderly guy] He's a doctor. [gives him a thumbs-up]
HOUSE: Is he still infection-free? [chucks away the sling]
FOREMAN: I'm sure not for long.
HOUSE: My point being, did something other than those infections cause those seizures? Means there's something in his head. Scan him.
FOREMAN: We scanned him.
HOUSE: Well, that was then. This is "not then". Kid keeps changing. Scan him again. Where is Cameron?
[PPTH locker room. Cameron is looking into her locker as she speaks to House.]
CAMERON: I'm not writing you a scrip for Vicodin.
HOUSE: I've only got two pills left.
CAMERON: [tying up her hair] Cut 'em in half. Then you'll have four.
HOUSE: You're prescribing for Wilson. Wilson prescribes for me. Write up the scrip.
CAMERON: [arms on hips] You know you have a problem.
HOUSE: Yeah, it's got a badge and everything.
CAMERON: You're taking too much...
HOUSE: [exasperated] Fine! You're right! What's the correct amount? Write up a scrip for the correct amount.
HOUSE: No answer? That's 'cause we're having the wrong debate. [picks up her sweaty scrubs and hands them to her] This has got nothing to do with my problem and everything to do with you avoiding the problem. You're afraid that if you write me a prescription, you're gonna wind up like Wilson.
CAMERON: [indignant] Of course I am.
HOUSE: Tritter wants to win by giving pain. Do you really wanna be a part of that? As a doctor, how do you do that?
[Cameron looks at House, mulling over his little guilt-inducing speech. With a sigh, she turns to her locker and pulls out a bottle of pills.]
CAMERON: [closing her locker] Here. [tosses the pills to House] This'll tide you over. Takes the edge off my PMS. Do wonders for you.
[She walks out, leaving House downcast.]
[MRI Room. The Ducklings are in the adjoining room. Foreman goes over to Jack, who's lying on the MRI table.]
JACK: Why are you looking at my head again?
FOREMAN: Seizures usually indicate something neurological.
JACK: [more a statement than a question] I'm not gonna get better, am I?
FOREMAN: We'll know more after the test.
JACK: If y'all found out I couldn't take care of Will and Kama...
FOREMAN: Let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay? You'll be home, yelling at 'em and kicking their butts before you know it.
[Foreman hits the switch. Jack slowly gets pulled into the MRI. Foreman goes back to the adjoining room to join Chase and Cameron, who are looking over the results.]
FOREMAN: This kid might be facing a terminal disease and he's more worried about his brother and sister.
CHASE: [looking at monitor] Brain stem's clean.
CAMERON: [looking at her monitor] Nothing in the mid-brain.
FOREMAN: [looking at Chase's monitor] What's that? Frontal lobe, upper right quadrant.
CAMERON: I don't see anything.
FOREMAN: [pointing to a white spot] There. It's tiny, but... think it's a tumour.
CHASE: That size should be excisable. Why didn't we see it earlier? How...?
CAMERON: [looking at her monitor] Oh God. Axial view, there's another one. Bring up the next slice.
[Chase does. The next slice shows multiple small white spots scattered across.]
FOREMAN: [sighs ominously] They're everywhere.
[House's office. The Ducklings report to House. House holds a hot-water bag to his right shoulder.]
FOREMAN: Jack's brain is riddled with tumours. And you know what he's doing?
FOREMAN: Setting up playdates.
HOUSE: Wow, whattaguy! Theories?
[Foreman looks disappointed.]
CAMERON: The obvious one. Brain cancer destroyed his immune system, left him wide open for these infections.
FOREMAN: House, you're pathetic. You analyse anyone's faults, hypocrisies, weaknesses. But this kid's got some strength and, all of a sudden, there's no time to talk about anything but the medicine.
HOUSE: He's teaching prepubescent kids that truth matters, God doesn't and life sucks. I like him. Treatment?
CHASE: We need to start him on radiation.
HOUSE: It'll destroy whatever's left of his immune system.
FOREMAN: [frustrated] And save his life! I know the notion of self-sacrifice is foreign to you...
HOUSE: You wanna think that he's sacrificing himself because if one person could do it, then maybe the world isn't a cold, selfish place you know that it is.
[He gets up and picks up his Vicodin from the table. It sounds quite a few pills less.]
HOUSE: Radiation could kill him. Alternatives?
CHASE: There aren't any. We saw the tumours.
HOUSE: We could choose to say they aren't tumours. They're just pus. Which would explain why they weren't there yesterday.
CAMERON: It can't be an infection. He got IVIG, broad-spectrum antibiotics...
HOUSE: Exactly. Creates a perfect world for fungus.
[Foreman rolls his eyes in disbelief.]
HOUSE: Moves in, gets married, has little fungi.
FOREMAN: If you're wrong about the fungus, you're wasting what little time he has left.
HOUSE: Not a big sacrifice. His life sucks. So let's be right. Go stick a needle in the kid's head. You suck out a liquid, then I'm right and we haven't answered anything. You suck out a solid, you're right. No more worrying about playdates.
[He pops a couple of pills. He shakes the bottle - it's empty already. He tosses the bottle into the trash.]
[Cuddy's office. Cuddy's on the couch, reading something when House barges in.]
HOUSE: Okay, fine! I'll father your child.
[Cuddy stops short of asking him if he's high.]
HOUSE: First you gotta write me a Vicodin prescription. Just so I can get through the foreplay.
CUDDY: [oh, she's enjoying this!] How many days do you have left?
HOUSE: [pretends to think] Uhh, I could probably get through maybe... [tilts his head to the right] next minute or so.
CUDDY: And your coming to me means your lackeys actually stood up to you. I'm impressed.
HOUSE: [nods] Yes. Their cowardice is inspiring.
CUDDY: Well, you should be thanking them. If they caved, it'd give the cops evidence that you intimidated underlings to feed your addiction.
[She gets up from the couch and moves over to the table.]
HOUSE: [sighs] I hate writing "Thank You" notes. Would it be weird if I asked Cameron to write them?
[Cuddy gives him a stare and then pulls out her prescription booklet.]
HOUSE: [can't believe it] You're hooking me up?
CUDDY: Unfortunately, if I cut you off, it'd give the cops evidence that you don't really need the pain meds.
HOUSE: [overjoyed] I knew that cleavage was a smokescreen. You're a genius.
[He comes up to the desk and, with a grimace, reaches for the scrip with a bent right arm.]
CUDDY: [pulls back the scrip] You can't lift your arm?
HOUSE: [state-the-obvious contest] You can't pee standing up. Gimme.
CUDDY: You been doing physio? Maybe you pulled...
HOUSE: Yeah, been training for Pants-Off Dance-Off. Gimme the scrip.
CUDDY: Your shoulder problem isn't physical.
HOUSE: [exasperated] Well, we'll find out if you ever give me the...
CUDDY: What's new? What's different? Any big changes in your life recently? Fight with the wife maybe?
[House looks at her. He's thinking.]
CUDDY: It's good. Means your shoulder's a human being. It's a start.
[House has an epiphany!]
CUDDY: [smiling] I'm right, right?
HOUSE: Yeah! Just not about me.
[He starts to limp off, leaving Cuddy still holding the scrip. He turns and snatches it from her and limps outside.]
[Diagnostics office. Foreman enters the office, in scrubs, followed by Chase. House turns to them, waiting for an answer.]
HOUSE: I was right, right?
FOREMAN: They were abscesses from a fungal infection. Aspergillis. But we still have no idea why.
HOUSE: [sighs] Our kid's immune-system has a factory defect. It's genetic.
CAMERON: It can't be genetic. He would've been getting infections since he was an infant.
HOUSE: Not if he grew up in a bubble.
CHASE: Or if he grew up on Mars. No germs there either.
HOUSE: I don't mean a literal bubble. A sweet, suburban bubble, where the mommies and daddies protect their children. They die, bubble bursts. Continuing emotional trauma triggers a genetic illness. Question is: which one? [hangs his cane on the whiteboard] The infections he's contracted narrowed down the possibilities. [writes on whiteboard] Hep-A indicates a problem with his B-cells.
CHASE: Bruton's Agammaglobulinemia.
HOUSE: [writes] Eikenella.
FOREMAN: Points to complement deficiency.
[The door opens. They turn to see Wilson entering.]
WILSON: I have a patient. I need...
HOUSE: [turning to his whiteboard] Not now!
CAMERON: I'll go. [turns to leave]
HOUSE: You'll stay.
HOUSE: Patient's dying.
WILSON: So's mine.
HOUSE: Not in the next hour.
[Cameron seems torn.]
HOUSE: What does the syphilis tell us?
[Cameron doesn't answer.]
HOUSE: [turning to her, loudly] What does it tell us?!
CAMERON: [sighs] It could mean Chronic Granulomatous Disease.
[Wilson drops his head. He leaves.]
CHASE: The Aspergillis is a T-cell issue. Common Variable Immunodeficiency. [pauses to watch Wilson walk out]
[House turns around to chew him out for slowing down.]
CHASE: [quickly] Genetic testing's gonna take time. Given the rate he's picked up infections...
HOUSE: Why don't we turn it into a race?
FOREMAN: Little late to be playing games with us.
HOUSE: Not you guys, the infections.
CAMERON: What infections?
HOUSE: The infections we're gonna give him.
[Jack's room. House has explained the "procedure" to Jack.]
JACK: The only way to cure me is to make me sicker?
HOUSE: Each of the possible four genetic conditions is most susceptible to different types of infections.
[House pulls out a spritzer.]
JACK: [unsure] What's that?
HOUSE: This is a cocktail of serratia, meningococcis, cepacia and rhinovirus. Whichever germ gains the most ground, plants the flag with its leader, gives us our answer.
JACK: And how are you gonna know which one gains the most ground?
HOUSE: Now that's the fun part. See if the meningococcis is King of the Hill, you get to have another seizure. Serratia will shut down your lungs. If it's cepacia, you'll have a heart attack. If it's the rhinovirus,... you'll sneeze. [shrugs] Can't all be dramatic. We good?
JACK: [scared witless] Hell no.
HOUSE: Only alternative is we guess. And there's a three-out-of-four chance that your little brother and sister will get to cry over another coffin.
[Jack looks at him in disbelief.]
HOUSE: Study fractions in school? [repeating] We good?
[Jack thinks, then sighs and nods. Covering his nose and mouth, House spritzes Jack's face with the cocktail. Jack coughs. House starts to walk out, but turns.]
HOUSE: [conspiratorially] Oh, and this... test isn't exactly FDA-approved. So, just keep it our little secret. Okay?
[Jack looks like he's about to have all the fore-mentioned symptoms except the sneeze. House leaves.]
[Jack's room. Jack lies motionless in bed. Chase brings him a box of tissues, then sits down and starts reading a magazine. His hand reaches below to pick out another magazine from the pile of mags.]
[Time lapse. The hand that picks up the magazine belongs to Cameron. She opens the mag and reads. Jack starts coughing. The coughing gets a bit more violent, but subsides. Cameron goes over to attend to him.]
[Time lapse. Foreman is now watching over Jack. Suddenly, Jack's back arches outwards and he wheezes loudly. The monitors start beeping.]
[CGI POV: Zoom into Jack's chest and then into his lungs. His lungs are shutting down. Zoom out of his mouth.]
[Foreman is pushing a tongue depressor into his mouth and using a flashlight to look into his throat. Foreman quickly puts an oxygen mask on Jack.]
[House's office. It's raining outside. House sits at his desk, eating a doughnut. Cuddy enters.]
CUDDY: Ahem. Little Orphan Annie and Oliver Twist slept in our hallways last night.
HOUSE: [mouth-full] Were they seen?
CUDDY: They're children, they need a guardian.
HOUSE: He couldn't find a baby-sitter. On account of not being able to make any phone calls on account of not being able to breathe on account of his lungs filling up with serratia. He has Chronic Granulomatosis Disease. Game over. My work is done.
CUDDY: Then he's gonna keep getting sick. You gotta call Social Services.
HOUSE: Bone marrow transplant would reboot his whole immune-system. He'll be healthy enough to win Miserable-Daddy-of-the-Year.
CUDDY: So see if one of his kids is a match.
HOUSE: My kids are already testing his kids.
FOREMAN: [vo] Will's a match.
[Jack's room. Foreman speaks to Jack.]
JACK: You tested him? I never consented for that.
FOREMAN: It's just a blood draw. There's no danger.
JACK: To the testing. What about the surgery?
FOREMAN: The risk for Will? 'S next to nothing.
JACK: [sighs] What if I don't do it? What are my other options?
FOREMAN: You're immune-system can't fight off the germs we all come into contact with everyday. Now that we know, we can use more targeted medications. But you'll still get sick all the time. You'll be in and out of hospitals...
JACK: But I'll live.
FOREMAN: Jack, your life-span will be substantially shortened. And you'll be too sick to care for your brother and sister anymore.
JACK: You shouldn't have pressured him into doing...
FOREMAN: There's no pressure.
JACK: He's eight years old! You tell him his brother's dying, unless he helps. What do you think he's gonna say?
FOREMAN: He wants to help you.
JACK: He has no idea. It's like you asked him to let me play with one of his toys. This is surgery. He could die.
FOREMAN: He'll be fine. But you... [sighs] You're gonna have a hard time protecting him like this if you're dead.
JACK: [thinks] I'll do it...
[Foreman perks up.]
JACK: [continuing] ...when Will's eighteen and can decide for himself.
[With a resigned look, Foreman nods.]
[House's office. Thunder can be heard outside. Foreman speaks to House about his feelings on this case. House is looking outside the window.]
FOREMAN: [shaking his head] Noble.
[Foreman looks at him.]
HOUSE: It's a synonym.
FOREMAN: Why can't you accept he wants to protect his brother?
HOUSE: _Has_ to protect his brother. Doesn't want to. Wants to run screaming from protecting his brother.
FOREMAN: [shakes his head] You're a hypocrite. [smirks wrily, exaggeratedly imitating House] "Evidence is everything. Truth is all that matters." [now himself] Except when it comes to people. Everything we've learned about this kid says you're wrong, [playing with fuzzball] but you can't accept that. It's easy to reject the diagnosis. Not so easy to reject your misanthropy. Because then you'd have to give people a fighting chance. And that... scares the crap out of you.
[House considers it and nods.]
HOUSE: Okay. [pulls his suit off his chair and grabs his cane] Let's get some evidence.
[Picking up a red file, he leaves. Foreman follows confused.]
[Jack's room. House strides inside, followed by Foreman.]
HOUSE: It's your lucky day! I just found another donor in the registry. Perfect match. We can do the transplant, no danger to the rugrat. [puts the red file in front of him] Just have to sign here.
[Jack doesn't move, he only looks at the file. House exchanges a glance with Foreman.]
HOUSE: Unless there's another reason you don't want it.
JACK: There's a chance I'd die.
HOUSE: [shrugs] Chance you'd be cured. Maybe you don't want that either. Maybe hanging out in a hospital, getting waited on hand and foot reminds you what life used to be like before you were forced to play Mr. Mom.
JACK: I don't like being sick.
HOUSE: But you don't like being healthy either.
[Jack lowers his head.]
HOUSE: This is your way out. Guilt-free.
JACK: I said I'd do it when Will's eighteen.
HOUSE: When he's able to take care of himself, without you.
FOREMAN: Jack, your brother and sister need you.
JACK: [yelling] I know! I know every second of every day that they need me, but I'm too young to be their dad!
[Foreman looks at him sadly.]
HOUSE: [quietly] Good for you.
[House starts limping out.]
HOUSE: [as he passes Foreman, whispering] Don't pretend you're so surprised.
[Foreman looks at Jack, who starts to cry. Foreman leaves.]
[Wilson's office. Wilson is at his desk, writing letters and putting them in A4-sized yellow envelopes. House pokes his head into the room.]
HOUSE: Wanna go throw stuff on people off the balcony?
[Wilson doesn't say anything. He continues working with pursed lips. House enters.]
HOUSE: C'mon. Mail can wait.
WILSON: I'm referring my patients to other oncologists. I'm shutting down my practice.
HOUSE: [cynically] Oh good! I was afraid you would overreact.
WILSON: [yelling angrily] I can't just ask my patients to wait because Dr. Cameron's boss won't let her come out and play!
HOUSE: Kept you waiting for maybe an hour.
WILSON: [yelling louder] Three hours!
HOUSE: Anybody die?
WILSON: [loudly] Not this time!
HOUSE: Well, Cameron's available now. Use her all you want.
[House sits down.]
WILSON: Oh, so now's a better time for me to have my life taken away if it fits into your schedule better?
HOUSE: [rubbing his shoulder] Oh, poor you. Think if you suffer loudly enough...
WILSON: [almost screaming out in rage] YOU COMMITTED A CRIME!!
HOUSE: What do you want me to do? Turn myself in?
WILSON: YES!! YES! Do something! Go in! Show some remorse! Tell Tritter you'll get some help!
HOUSE: [upset] I don't need help!
WILSON: [calming down, just about] House, get out of here. Get out of here.
HOUSE: You're not gonna make _me_ feel guilty about what Tritter is doing... to us. [gets up to leave]
WILSON: [laughs humourlessly] You already feel guilty. Your serious shoulder pain... isn't coming from your cane, it's coming from your conscience. And that used to be enough. Despite all your smart-ass remarks, I knew you gave a damn. This time, [shrugs] you were either gonna help me through this or you weren't. I got my answer.
[House looks at him awhile and walks out. Wilson goes back to his referrals.]
[Nurse's station. Foreman stands at the station, looking into Jack's room, watching Jack say goodbye to his siblings. Will sits beside Jack. Kama stands near the door. There's a social worker standing at the door.]
WILL: Who's gonna drive me to school? Help me with my homework?
[Now inside Jack's room.]
JACK: There'll be a mom, where they take you. Real mom. Someone who can cook.
[Will and Kama's eyes glisten with tears.]
JACK: Don't worry. I'll still be able to see you guys.
[Will embraces him and gets off the bed. Kama comes forward. She's too choked up to speak. Jack shakes his head, wordlessly telling her not to cry. He holds her arm encouragingly. She gives him a tiny smile and goes with the social worker. Jack struggles not to break down as they leave.]
[At the nurse's station, Foreman is moved by this sequence of events. Kama comes up to him.]
KAMA: [voice breaking] You said you'd make him better.
FOREMAN: I'm sorry.
[Kama leaves. Foreman goes to Jack's room.]
[Jack's room. Jack sees Foreman enter.]
JACK: [choking] Thank you... for not telling them.
FOREMAN: You're a good kid. Three months from now, [shrugs] six months from now, you'll be visiting them and you won't be able to say goodbye. You're gonna know you screwed up. You'll take his bone marrow and you'll take 'em back. [sighs] They'll be a burden and a pain, and your life will never be what it was supposed to be.But you'll be proud of yourself. Your parents [nods] gonna be proud of you.
[Jack considers this for a while.]
JACK: I don't think so.
FOREMAN: [sighs, then smirks and shrugs] It's what I wanna believe.
[With that, he walks out slowly, sliding the door shut behind him. Jack looks absolutely desolate.]
[Outside PPTH. Night. It's windy and cold, after the thunderstorm. Wilson cuts a forlorn figure, sitting on a wet bench near the bus stop sign. House's bike pulls up. Wilson watches it stop in front of him. House and Wilson look at each other for a while. Then Wilson looks down and House drives off. Wilson drops his head.]