Written by: Thomas L. Moran
Directed by: Juan J. Campanella
Transcribed by: Rahul (rahulkudva)
Beta'ed by: TD (topaz_eyes)
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.
Just to recap, these are House's remaining fellows:
Number Name Sex Description
37 Travis Brennan M The quiet guy
6/9 Lawrence Kutner M Enthusiastic guy, doesn't know when to shut up
18 Jeffrey Cole M Black Mormon, whose beliefs House insults
24 Amber Volakis F "Cutthroat Bitch", need I say more?
39 Chris Taub M Bored-looking plastic surgeon
13 "Thirteen" (name unknown) F The pretty, smart and private one
[Drag race track. Day. A blue dragster revs up noisily and makes its way to the starting line. Officials walk about, preparing for the start of the race. An announcer's disembodied voice is heard.]
ANNOUNCER'S VOICE: [vo] And now, coming to the line, last year's rookie of the year, Casey Alfonso!
[The crowd cheers loudly, as the camera focuses on the red dragster.]
ANNOUNCER'S VOICE: [vo] And in lane two, nine time national champion, Tony Cooper!
[The camera focuses on the blue dragster.]
ANNOUNCER'S VOICE: [vo] Tony's got his line down in lane two. And now Casey’s approaching the line.
[Casey's red dragster comes up to the line. Her father, Lou Alfonso, leans forward to have a pre-race talk with her.]
LOU ALFONSO: [shouting over the noise] How do you feel?
CASEY ALFONSO: [raising her helmet visor, pumped] Great.
LOU ALFONSO: I feel like throwing up my guts.
CASEY ALFONSO: You always feel like throwing up. Come on, Dad, let's get this digger on the line.
LOU ALFONSO: You sure you don't wanna go to law school?
CASEY ALFONSO: I hate lawyers.
LOU ALFONSO: [that's what he wants to hear] Yeah, so do I. Go get 'em, baby!
[They bump fists. Casey lowers her visor and prepares for the race, as Lou backs away.]
ANNOUNCER'S VOICE: [vo] Okay, looks like we're ready to go. Let's hear it, folks!
[The crowd obliges him with a loud cheer.]
[CASEY'S POV: Her hands on the steering wheel, anxious to start.]
[And they're off! The camera pans around Casey as she races. Tony and she are neck and neck. She notices Tony pulling slightly ahead. She ups the gear and speeds up more.]
[CASEY'S POV: All of a sudden, everything is in slow motion. Her hand ups the gear and moves to the wheel. Everything returns to normal speed shortly.]
[Casey's car manages to beat Tony's by a short margin.]
ANNOUNCER'S VOICE: [excited, vo] And it's Casey Alfonso by less than half a car length!
[The crowd applauds and cheers. The cars' parachutes deploy, slowing them down to a stop.]
ANNOUNCER'S VOICE: [vo] What a spectacular finish for the young phenom.
[The board shows "4.547 sec" and "327.43 mph".]
[Later, a reporter interviews to an elated Casey, with a camera crew present.]
REPORTER: Casey Alfonso with an amazing finish. What'd you do at the end there?
CASEY ALFONSO: [breathless] Yeah, [chuckles] at about two hundred and fifty feet, the car got out of shape a bit.
[An SUV pulls up. Her proud father exits and watches his daughter exult in her victory.]
CASEY ALFONSO: [charged up] But about halfway down... I just got into the zone or something. I pedaled it back into the groove! It was the coolest ride of my life!
REPORTER: How does it feel to beat nine-time national champion Tony Cooper?
[As he speaks, his voice gets deep and slow (like a tape recorder running on low battery).]
[CASEY'S POV: His head moves in slow motion.]
CASEY ALFONSO: [still smiling, uneasy] I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?
[CASEY'S POV: She looks towards her ecstatic father, jumping for joy, and walking over, in slow motion.]
REPORTER: [deep, slow, distorted] How does it feel to beat nine-time national champion, Tony Cooper?
[Casey's legs buckle and she drops to the ground, unconscious. The announcer tries to help her.]
REPORTER: [concerned] Casey! Casey! Casey!
[Lou runs over, pushing the reporter out of the way.]
LOU ALFONSO: Out of the way! Out of the way. Casey. Casey! [to the guy nearby] Get the ambulance! Brian, get the ambulance!
[Casey doesn't move.]
LOU ALFONSO: [scared] Casey...
[Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, Auditorium. Day. Dr. Gregory House limps/paces about as his new Fellows and Dr. Eric Foreman try to get him to treat a patient.]
"THIRTEEN": Sixty-eight-year-old male, non-smoker.
GREG HOUSE: [uninterested] Ah, sixty-eight's a good run. That'll leave something in the lockbox for the rest of us. Next!
[He holds a Tupperware case.]
JEFFREY COLE: That's your breakfast?
GREG HOUSE: Technically, it's Wilson's lunch.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Twenty-month-old baby, persistent rash, fever...
GREG HOUSE: [cuts her off] Too much crying.
CHRIS TAUB: Female college student with...
GREG HOUSE: [cuts him off] Too much drama.
ERIC FOREMAN: You don't care about the crying or the drama 'cause you won't see the patient. And you'd treat Methuselah if his snot had an interesting color. It means you've already decided which case you wanna take next.
GREG HOUSE: Tell me about Speed Racer.
[Dr. Travis Brennan speaks.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Female, seizure with visual and auditory processing deficiency. I did a consult and...
GREG HOUSE: [interrupts] What kind of race car?
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Dragster.
GREG HOUSE: [interested] Continue.
JEFFREY COLE: You're gonna take a case based on the car she drives?
GREG HOUSE: Nothing says "thanks for saving my life" like a test drive in a car that accelerates faster than a space shuttle.
ERIC FOREMAN: You can't save her life, 'cause she's not dying. Her lab shows signs of dehydration. Means the problem's just likely... heatstroke.
GREG HOUSE: Kinda hard to get heat-struck in four-and-a-half seconds.
ERIC FOREMAN: Not when you're wearing a three-layer fireproof suit.
[The door to the auditorium opens. House looks up and sees a guy in a black suit enter (Agent Smith).]
AGENT SMITH: Excuse me.
[The Fellows turn to the Suit.]
AGENT SMITH: [walking towards them] Dr. House?
[The Fellows look at House apprehensively.]
GREG HOUSE: No, lazy ass called in sick again. We can give him a message.
[The Suit pulls out a picture of House's frowning face.]
AGENT SMITH: May we talk in private?
[House stares at him for a moment. The Fellows and Foreman wonder what kind of trouble House may be in, not that they seem worried. House nods and stands up, getting his "bitchin' cane".]
GREG HOUSE: So... either it's heatstroke, in which case we take the afternoon off, or it's one of the diagnoses that you guys are gonna have for me in... two minutes. [to Foreman] You're in charge.
ERIC FOREMAN: I know.
[House throws him a look and goes into the next room, followed by the Suit. Foreman stands and prepares to go forward with their new case. The Fellows seem more interested in House's new suit-clad visitor.]
CHRIS TAUB: Cop?
"THIRTEEN": He's not packing.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Your dad's either a cop or a security guard.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Or she carries a weapon.
["Thirteen" only smiles.]
[In the next room, Agent Smith flashes his CIA ID to House.]
GREG HOUSE: [yeah, right] You're with the CIA?
AGENT SMITH: One of our employees just returned from an assignment sick. We believe he may be the victim of an assassination attempt.
[House lower-lip-pouts skeptically and looks at the Fellows in the auditorium.]
GREG HOUSE: Sure. You wanna close the door?
AGENT SMITH: [confused] Door?
GREG HOUSE: Well, I assume you're gonna drop trou at some point during the dance. I don't see why I should share.
AGENT SMITH: This isn't a joke. If you're willing to help us, we need to leave now.
GREG HOUSE: If I have to walk somewhere, there better be at least five girls involved. And they better be working their way through college.
[Agent Smith frowns as House limps outside to the auditorium.]
GREG HOUSE: [to the Fellows] Okay, what do you got?
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Hereditary brain disorder, transient ischemia, or paraneoplastic syndrome.
ERIC FOREMAN: None of those go away with IV fluids. It's heatstroke.
GREG HOUSE: Or Cushing's or calcium deficiency.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [re: Agent Smith] Who's your friend?
GREG HOUSE: We use the term "life partner".
[Agent Smith doesn't like that term much. House puts on his coat, preparing to leave.]
GREG HOUSE: Get a fresh history, neurological exam, and an MRI of her head. [following Smith out] Fifteen minutes for the lap dance, a half hour to scrub the guilt off my soul. [checks his watch] See you in forty-five.
[PPTH Stairwell. Day. Agent Smith opens the door for House, who limps behind him.]
AGENT SMITH: Dr. House, we need to hurry.
GREG HOUSE: Yeah, we need to hurry.
[He starts laboring up the stairs, following Smith.]
GREG HOUSE: Little advice, I mean, obviously the Village People played out the whole cop thing. But, come on, CIA? Do you seriously expect anyone to believe that?
[Smith opens the door to the terrace. Outside, on the helipad, stands a CIA helicopter, ready to fly. House looks at the bird, his skepticism dissolving. Agent Smith looks at him, a smug smile on his face.]
AGENT SMITH: It helps when you have props.
[They go towards the helicopter.]
[Casey's Room. Day. Foreman and Brennan attend to Casey. Brennan slowly moves his pen in front of Casey's eyes.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Keep your eye on my pen.
[Casey follows the pen with her eyes.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Very good.
ERIC FOREMAN: Any nausea or vomiting before the seizure?
CASEY ALFONSO: [shaking her head] No. My dad had some, but he's always like that before a race.
ERIC FOREMAN: It coulda been food poisoning. You two eat breakfast together?
CASEY ALFONSO: No.
[Brennan checks her leg.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Any history of sciatica or spinal injury?
CASEY ALFONSO: No.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: [to Foreman] Abnormal deep tendon reflex.
ERIC FOREMAN: Really? Let me see.
[Brennan hands him the plexor (hammer to check reflexes). Foreman taps her.]
ERIC FOREMAN: It's there.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: I didn't say it wasn't there. I said it was abnormal.
ERIC FOREMAN: We're gonna give you an MRI to be sure, but I'm guessing your symptoms were caused by just dehydration and the heat.
CASEY ALFONSO: [wide-eyed] You're guessing? Look, I make a living driving three hundred miles an hour, which makes the ability to stay conscious kind of important.
ERIC FOREMAN: [comforting] I'm sure it's just heatstroke. But we're gonna do an MRI to be extra careful.
[Brennan doesn't seem to agree. Foreman leaves. He looks at Casey and smiles at her.]
[Private Jet. Day. As the plane flies, House, seated, gulps down a packet of peanuts. "Whatta Man" (by Salt-N-Pepa Featuring En Vogue) is heard. It's House's cell phone.]
AGENT SMITH: You said you left your cell in your office.
GREG HOUSE: I lied.
AGENT SMITH: [smiles wryly] I wasn't going to take it, just tell you to turn it off for takeoff.
GREG HOUSE: I know... just wanted to see if you could tell that I was lying. Useful information.
[He answers his phone.]
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] Yeah?
[Diagnostic's Office. Day. Foreman sits in front of the phone, while Brennan stands behind.]
ERIC FOREMAN: Where are you?
GREG HOUSE: I'm on a top-secret mission for the CIA.
ERIC FOREMAN: [deadpan] Right. There was nothing on your racecar driver's CT, and the history and physical were normal.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Her deep tendon reflexes seemed a bit weak to me.
GREG HOUSE: [from phone] Areflexia could mean Miller-Fisher.
ERIC FOREMAN: Yes, areflexia could mean Miller-Fisher, but since the reflex was weak, not absent, doesn't mean anything. I'm releasing her. You can go back to your poker game.
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] Poker's illegal. CIA would never allow illegal activity...
[The phone rings. Foreman disconnects from House and answers it.]
"THIRTEEN": [from phone] Have you considered Miller-Fisher?
[Foreman picks up the receiver and puts it to his ear.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [into phone] Why? What happened?
[Casey's Room. Day. "Thirteen" speaks on her phone to Foreman, while behind her, Kutner checks up on Casey, while Lou stands nearby.]
"THIRTEEN": [into phone] She just had another seizure.
[Kutner, using an illuminated magnifying glass, peers into her eye. He wide-open left eye is vibrating vertically like crazy.]
"THIRTEEN": [into phone, vo] And now she's getting a vertical nystagmus.
[CG POV: The camera zooms into her eye, past the optic nerve (through which electrical impulses travel at regular intervals. Inside, the eyeball oscillates jerkily. Then it stops.]
[Casey's Room. Day. Foreman speaks to Casey. Brennan (full of "told-you-so" attitude) stands nearby.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [to Casey] We think it's Miller-Fisher, an inflammatory process. In rare cases, it can cause respiratory failure, but...
LOU ALFONSO: Wait, she could stop breathing?
CASEY ALFONSO: You said there was nothing wrong. You said you were sure.
ERIC FOREMAN: You just had another seizure. Clearly, there's something wrong.
CASEY ALFONSO: So why should I trust you to figure out what it is? [sits up in bed] Where's Dr. House? I'm at this hospital bec...
ERIC FOREMAN: It's gonna be all right. We just need to start the plasmapheresis.
CASEY ALFONSO: No! It's not going to be all right, because you obviously don't have a clue what you're doing.
[Foreman tries to reason with her, but she starts ripping off the sensors on her. The monitors start beeping, due to the loss of signal.]
CASEY ALFONSO: I'm not letting you touch me.
LOU ALFONSO: [trying to stop her] Honey, come on.
CASEY ALFONSO: I wanna see House! Where is he?
[Foreman shakes his head in frustration.]
[CIA Hospital. Day. House and Agent Smith enter the hallway and make their way towards a room.]
GREG HOUSE: [re: the hospital] Looks a lot better on '24'.
[They enter the room. They are greeted by a striking lady, who stands at her desk.]
GREG HOUSE: [to Smith] I take that back.
[The lady steps forward from behind her desk and introduces herself to House, shaking his hand.]
SAMIRA TERZI: Dr. Samira Terzi. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. House. We really appreciate the consult on such short notice.
GREG HOUSE: There's nothing that gives me more pleasure than helping out a colleague.
[Terzi points out another guy sitting on the nearby couch.]
SAMIRA TERZI: This is Dr. Sidney Curtis from the Mayo Clinic. He's also agreed to help with the diagnosis.
SIDNEY CURTIS: [holding out his hand] Dr. House.
["Whatta man" is heard as House's cell phone rings. He takes it out.]
GREG HOUSE: "Curtis on Immunology" Sidney Curtis?
SIDNEY CURTIS: [pleased] Oh, you've read it?
GREG HOUSE: Nope! But it is keeping my piano level.
[House opens his clamshell phone to see the caller is "Cutthroat Bitch". Not answering, he shuts the phone.]
GREG HOUSE: So... where is the poor, sick fella?
[Diagnostics Office. Day. Dr. Amber Volakis shakes her head and pulls her phone from her ear, peeved. Foreman paces about, while the Fellows sit around the glass table.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: What do we do?
ERIC FOREMAN: I don't know yet.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: She needs treatment.
AMBER VOLAKIS: This is a test, right? You're reporting back to him everything we do.
ERIC FOREMAN: [deadpan] Yeah. And I asked the patient to be uncooperative. Personally, I think she overplayed it.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: She's being uncooperative because you made us all look like idiots.
ERIC FOREMAN: We're only gonna look like idiots if we can't figure out how to get her to agree to the treatment.
JEFFREY COLE: What would House do right now?
"THIRTEEN": [smirks] Pop a pill, insult us, and trick the patient.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [hopefully] We can do that last part. She's never met House before, has she? Who's got a cane?
ERIC FOREMAN: House isn't here. We're not gonna act like him.
[He walks out.]
[Casey's Room. Day. Casey stirs and sees Foreman entering.]
CASEY ALFONSO: What do you want?
ERIC FOREMAN: I, uh... I'm gonna do what doctors aren't supposed to do. Admit I made a mistake. I shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss your symptoms. But you need to let us start the plasmapheresis.
CASEY ALFONSO: [repeating, fading voice] What do you want?
LOU ALFONSO: Case?
[Casey blacks out, her head swaying to the sides.]
LOU ALFONSO: Honey, do you know where you are?
[Foreman checks the monitors and checks her temperature.]
ERIC FOREMAN: She's burning up.
LOU ALFONSO: Start the treatment.
ERIC FOREMAN: We can't.
LOU ALFONSO: You've got my permission. She's obviously confused.
ERIC FOREMAN: It doesn't matter anymore. Miller-Fisher doesn't cause delirium and fever. [seriously] I don't know what this is.
[CIA Hospital. Day. Terzi, followed by House and Curtis, walks in the hallway.]
SAMIRA TERZI: I'm afraid there are going to be some limitations on his medical history. Just let me know what you need, and I should be able to provide it.
GREG HOUSE: FYI, my malpractice insurance doesn't cover alien autopsies.
SAMIRA TERZI: That's fine. X-Files are the next wing over.
SIDNEY CURTIS: Where was the patient when he first felt ill?
SAMIRA TERZI: Sorry, that's classified. But assume there aren't too many places in the world John hasn't been. And, yes, John's a cover name.
SIDNEY CURTIS: And what makes you think it was an attempt on his life?
SAMIRA TERZI: Sorry, can't tell you that either.
[They stop at a door.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: Well, what can you tell us?
GREG HOUSE: Yeah, did Oswald really have sex with Marilyn Monroe?
[Terzi gives him a hint of a smile and enters the room. Curtis is not amused. He and House follow her in.]
[John's room. Day. "John" lies unconscious on his bed, hooked up to monitors. He is sickly thin, with skin peeling off.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: [shocked] Good Lord.
GREG HOUSE: [to Curtis] Very professional.
SAMIRA TERZI: Five days ago, he was 185 pounds. Perfect health.
[House walks up to John's bed and looks at the patient.]
GREG HOUSE: Cool.
HARD CUT TO:
[Diagnostics Office. Day. While the Fellows sit at the glass table, Foreman stands in front of the whiteboard, on which is written: "SEIZURE / VISUAL AND AUDITORY / PROCESSING DEFICIENCY / INTERMITTENT NYSTAGMUS / AREFLEXIA...". He turns to them.]
ERIC FOREMAN: Fever and delirium rule out...
[He stops, seeing Amber still trying to call House.]
ERIC FOREMAN: Uh, he's not gonna hire you just because you call him the most. Especially since it's obvious he doesn't wanna be called.
[Amber lowers her cell phone.]
ERIC FOREMAN: Symptoms rule out Miller-Fisher. MS fits better.
JEFFREY COLE: Progression's too fast. More likely meningitis.
ERIC FOREMAN: Areflexia doesn't fit as well with...
"THIRTEEN": Does with amyloidosis.
CHRIS TAUB: That's even slower than MS. It's lupus.
AMBER VOLAKIS: I'm with the little man [Taub] on this one. It's attacking the body and the brain. Classic autoimmune.
CHRIS TAUB: [to Amber] Flirt all you want, but I should warn you - shiksas are for practice.
ERIC FOREMAN: Lupus this aggressive wouldn't spare her kidneys. It's primarily neurological. Let's start her on...
TRAVIS BRENNAN: [interrupting, looking at MRI] Why no plaques on her MRI?
ERIC FOREMAN: MRI was inconclusive. So I don't know why...
TRAVIS BRENNAN: [walking up to him, confrontational] So now you're sure that it's MS. Just like you were sure it was Miller-Fisher an hour after you were sure it was heatstroke.
ERIC FOREMAN: The symptoms fit. Start her on interferon.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: We're not gonna score any points with House if we solve this just by running your errands.
ERIC FOREMAN: I get that you want to be right.
JEFFREY COLE: You don't?
ERIC FOREMAN: I'm just trying to save the patient, not score points with my boss.
"THIRTEEN": Would it hurt the patient if you let us run some tests?
[Foreman looks at Brennan, who is staring a hole in him. He softens.]
ERIC FOREMAN: You've got three hours.
[The Fellows get up and leave.]
[CIA Hospital. Day. Terzi leads House and Curtis through the hallway.]
SAMIRA TERZI: We've run six complete tox screens, tested for every heavy metal, poison, and biological agent we can think of.
SIDNEY CURTIS: Says here he ate a lot of chestnuts.
[House stops walking and calls out.]
GREG HOUSE: Ho-o-old on a second. If the Squirrel Liberation Army's involved, I'm outta here. Those little rodents are...
SIDNEY CURTIS: Horse chestnuts are poisonous. If someone switched them...
GREG HOUSE: Horse chestnuts may look like chestnuts, but they taste like a horse's lower-than-chestnuts. Which makes the theory that he accidentally ate a couple of hundred slightly less persuasive.
[He walks into Terzi's office, followed by Terzi and Curtis.]
GREG HOUSE: And seeing as how he was prowling the back alleys of... [guessing] Tehran?
SAMIRA TERZI: It wasn't Tehran. It was... [deadpan] Oops. You almost got me.
GREG HOUSE: Unless we know the local environmental factors, poisonous flora...
SAMIRA TERZI: You know I can't tell you that.
GREG HOUSE: [sits, miffed] Well, then, why are we here? You might as well just Google "poison".
SAMIRA TERZI: [shrugs in understanding] All they would tell me is [sits, softly] he spent the last eleven months in Bolivia.
GREG HOUSE: Who you gonna kill in Bolivia? My old housekeeper?
SAMIRA TERZI: We don't kill people.
GREG HOUSE: I'm sorry. Who are you gonna marginalize? If it is my housekeeper, she has it coming. Cleaning the windows means cleaning both sides. [loudly to Curtis] Am I right, or am I right?
SIDNEY CURTIS: [irritated] What does it matter what he was doing? The guy's dying.
GREG HOUSE: Not anymore. I know what's poisoning him. And who - John.
[House makes a sign of a person drinking, accompanied by sound effects.]
GREG HOUSE: It's just pancreatitis.
SAMIRA TERZI: He's not an alcoholic.
SIDNEY CURTIS: And unless his pancreas is in his fingers...
GREG HOUSE: Spies can't get fungal infections?
SAMIRA TERZI: And the burns on his skin?
GREG HOUSE: Spies can't get sunburns? Bolivia doesn't have sun?
SIDNEY CURTIS: So, either we go with his theory of the non-drinking drunk, or he was poisoned by some group with the resources to make it completely untraceable. Some customized isotope.
[House says nothing. He just looks at Terzi, hoping she'll side with him.]
SAMIRA TERZI: Let's treat for radiation poisoning.
[House rolls his eyes.]
[CIA Hospital, John's Room. Day. Curtis hooks a conscious but weak John up to an IV-drip. House lurks in the background.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: The iodine's to protect your thyroid. Antibiotics are to handle infections. Should start working in a couple of hours.
GREG HOUSE: We should celebrate. With a beer. Or eight.
JOHN: [hoarsely] I don't drink.
GREG HOUSE: Oh... methinks he doth protest too much.
SIDNEY CURTIS: He's deathly ill. Why would he lie about drinking?
GREG HOUSE: Guilt over killing a man. Make anyone hit the sauce.
JOHN: We don't kill people.
GREG HOUSE: Right. You just lie to your friends and family, establish false identities, trick people into betraying their country. He'd never cover up his drinking. He's too honest.
[Despite the pain, John turns his head to shoot House a wry look.]
GREG HOUSE: Hey. Something I've always wanted to know. That poison lipstick that Ginger used to kiss Gilligan. Why didn't that kill her?
[Curtis looks at House, hardly amused at his remarks. John is in no mood to humor House, who seems genuinely interested in knowing.]
[PPTH Laboratory. Day. Kutner stands on a stool, announcing the lab results to the Fellows and Foreman.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Okay, drum roll. [mock-consoling] LP is negative for meningitis. Sorry, Cole.
[Cole bites his lower lip and nods.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [to "Thirteen"] Fat pad biopsy is... Oh, wait for it... [slowly opens the result] negative for amyloidosis! And "Thirteen" goes down.
["Thirteen" looks defeated.]
JEFFREY COLE: Could we hurry this up? My son has...
AMBER VOLAKIS: Can I have a kid too? I'm working too hard.
CHRIS TAUB: I could hook you up.
AMBER VOLAKIS: If I had two minutes and some anti-nausea meds, I'd take you up on that.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: And for the gold...
[Foreman, who has had enough of Kutner's theatrics, grabs the results from him.]
ERIC FOREMAN: Protein 65, glucose 70. It's MS. Start her on interferon.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [jumps down] Turn to the last page. Sed rate's 95. ANA's weakly positive.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Positive? It's lupus.
ERIC FOREMAN: Weakly. Not lupus, it's MS.
CHRIS TAUB: We obviously don't know what it is. Treat for both.
ERIC FOREMAN: No. I gave in on the test. We're not treating her for two completely separate diseases because you think lupus will win you a prize.
[He slaps the results in Taub's hands and leaves. The others start to leave, Cole giving Taub a encouraging squeeze in the shoulder. Amber sticks behind.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: Still think it's lupus?
CHRIS TAUB: Yeah.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Me too. In case of emergency, go to the emergency room.
[She gets up and starts to walk out.]
[PPTH ER. Day. Amber and Taub speak to Dr. Allison Cameron, who looks at their results.]
ALLISON CAMERON: Could be lupus.
AMBER VOLAKIS: That's what we figured.
ALLISON CAMERON: [handing back the results, suspicious] Then why are you here?
[She starts to walk. Amber and Taub follow.]
CHRIS TAUB: You're an immunologist. We wanted to confirm...
ALLISON CAMERON: Who are you looking for me to help you sell down the river? House or Cuddy?
AMBER VOLAKIS: Foreman.
ALLISON CAMERON: Sorry.
CHRIS TAUB: He's pushing MS. Thinks that because he's in charge, he has to prove he's the smartest guy in the room.
[Amber speaks to Cameron, face-to-face.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: All I've heard about you: you put the patient above everything else. That's why everyone finds you so annoying.
[Cameron doesn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.]
ALLISON CAMERON: [conspiratorially] All House cares about is results.
CHRIS TAUB: I know. I'm talking about how to deal with Foreman.
ALLISON CAMERON: So am I.
[With a sly smile, she walks off. Amber smiles at Cole.]
[Outside Casey's room. Day. Amber and Taub speak to Foreman, while Lou sits beside Casey inside.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: Fever's down to 101.5.
ERIC FOREMAN: Treatment's working. Why are we out here?
CHRIS TAUB: Trying to figure out which treatment's working. It's kind of tacky doing it in front of the patient.
ERIC FOREMAN: [shocked] You put her on steroids too?
AMBER VOLAKIS: [defensively] We had no choice. The sed rate pointed to lupus.
[Inside the room, Casey is sitting up in bed, rubbing her legs. Her father stands near her.]
ERIC FOREMAN: And the ANA ruled it out!
LOU ALFONSO: [calling] Doctors!
[Foreman runs inside, followed by the others. Casey keeps on touching her legs.]
ERIC FOREMAN: Legs hurt?
CASEY ALFONSO: [panicked] I can't feel them at all. I don't think I can move them.
[Foreman throws a frustrated look at Amber and Taub.]
[CIA Hospital. Day. John lies barely conscious in bed, while House reclines on the bed, eating a plate of chicken legs. Terzi and Curtis enter. Terzi checks the chart.]
SAMIRA TERZI: [impressed] Vitals stabilizing.
GREG HOUSE: Tummy-ache's gone as well.
SIDNEY CURTIS: ["told-you-so"] So the treatment's working.
GREG HOUSE: [quietly to Terzi] Wanna ditch Dr. Killjoy and... hop in the company jet? Little trip down Mexico Way. And I'm not talking about the country or the plane.
SAMIRA TERZI: [softly] Do you think acting like an idiot and talking about sex works on girls?
GREG HOUSE: Well, if it didn't, the human race would have died out long ago.
SIDNEY CURTIS: You're pretty cheery for someone who was just proved wrong about his pancreatitis theory.
GREG HOUSE: I'm appropriately cheery for someone who's being proved right.
SAMIRA TERZI: John hasn't vomited in six hours.
GREG HOUSE: What's to vomit? [holding up a chicken leg] I'm eating his lunch. Withholding nutrients is the treatment for pancreatitis. That and the antibiotics you put him on. I did unhook your iodine, though. Didn't seem to fit with the whole "I'm-just-jerking-you-guys-around" gestalt.
SIDNEY CURTIS: [pissed] You're unbelievable.
GREG HOUSE: Well, let's ask John if he'd rather be sick honestly or cured dishonestly.
[Terzi opens John's right eye. He's not responding.]
SAMIRA TERZI: John.
[Left eye yields no results either.]
SAMIRA TERZI: John.
[She starts to rub his chest, trying to wake him up. Curtis puts his fingers to John's neck, checking his vitals. House seems confused and guilty.]
GREG HOUSE: [sheepishly] Any chance he's just... overwhelmed with gratitude?
[Curtis' glare doesn't seem to think so.]
HARD CUT TO:
[Diagnostics Office. Day. Foreman, arms folded, stares accusingly at Taub and Amber. The others sit quietly.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Paralysis. Uh... it's a new symptom? Big white space on the board where it would fit? Nice, multicolored markers? [makes a writing motion]
[Brennan mopes in the corner.]
ERIC FOREMAN: I'm not writing it because we can't know if it's a real symptom. [pointing to Taub and Amber] When these two went rogue and pumped her full of steroids...
CHRIS TAUB: Steroids don't cause paralysis.
ERIC FOREMAN: She was also on interferon! Giving her both probably fried her immune system. Who knows what infection you could cause...?
AMBER VOLAKIS: We consulted an immunologist. She said we have...
ERIC FOREMAN: [frowning] She? You talking about Dr. Cameron?
CHRIS TAUB: She thought lupus was...
ERIC FOREMAN: She tell you to start treating?
"THIRTEEN": [loudly] Yes, they've ignored you. They screwed up. And it's fun watching you spank them. But can we get back to the medicine?
ERIC FOREMAN: [mad] The last thing any of you give a damn about is the medicine!
[The Fellows say nothing.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [sits] Look... I'm not saying you're bad doctors or bad people. But House is. He created a nasty little cutthroat world, planted you in it, and is watching you play. And none of it works for anyone except him.
AMBER VOLAKIS: And whoever wins.
[Foreman shoots her a glare.]
CHRIS TAUB: Given its quick progression, we gotta assume botulism.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: I'll go to her place, check out her fridge and pantry.
[Meanwhile, Brennan has been looking at the whiteboard.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: It's not botulism. It's polio.
[Foreman looks at him skeptically. Taub's chuckle disappears when he sees Brennan is serious.]
CHRIS TAUB: Brilliant. We should search her home for FDR's remains or a time machine.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: She could have contracted it from anyone who's been to Africa or...
AMBER VOLAKIS: She's been vaccinated.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Vaccines wear off.
"THIRTEEN": There hasn't been a single American case in over twenty years.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: I've seen this disease. I know what it looks like.
ERIC FOREMAN: That's why you're finding it. Because you're looking for it. Polio, it's-it's crazy.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: House wouldn't think so.
ERIC FOREMAN: So go find House and tell him your theory. Take a personal day. Seriously. Get outta here.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: You don't have the power to fire me.
ERIC FOREMAN: But I do have the power to kick your ass off my case. [to the others] We're starting the botulism treatment. The rest of you, look for confirmation.
[With a final glare at Brennan, he walks off. The others also file out, Kutner clapping Brennan on the arm as he passes him.]
[CIA Hospital, John's room. Day. Curtis, standing over John, complains to Terzi about House.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: He should be brought up on charges.
GREG HOUSE: Okay, relax. I'll take your book out from under my piano.
SIDNEY CURTIS: He's dying of radiation sickness. He's obviously in pain.
[He moves away and House goes up to John.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: All of which could have been avoided if you hadn't interfered with...
[House grabs John's hair and pulls. John gives out a small yelp of pain.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: What was that for?!
[House withdraws his hand, without any hairs on it.]
GREG HOUSE: Radiation sickness kills specific cells at specific times. His hair should be coming out in clumps before he's writhing in pain. Since it's not, I know who's trying to kill him. [looks upwards] God. It's blood cancer. Waldenstrom's.
SIDNEY CURTIS: [quietly] Radiation can cause infections, which set off neuropathy... [stuttering as he thinks]
GREG HOUSE: [interrupts] If you had any real evidence of foul play, you'd be torturing Bolivians instead of putting me into a state of anticipatory sexual arousal.
SAMIRA TERZI: Can we treat for both?
GREG HOUSE: Bad idea. Unless you're the one who's trying to poison him.
SAMIRA TERZI: I'll arrange for plasmapheresis and chemo.
[She starts to leave, but turns when Curtis speaks.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: Are you gonna trust him after what he did?
SAMIRA TERZI: I don't have to trust him to agree with him.
[She leaves, leaving House and an agape Curtis.]
GREG HOUSE: You make a good point. I've been wrong every time, and she still won't listen to you. So either she [chuckling] really likes me or she really hates you. And I got a ride in the jet.
[PPTH ER. Day. Cameron walks towards the bed where her next patient should be. She pulls back the curtain and gets a start, finding a stone-faced Foreman sitting there.]
ALLISON CAMERON: Oh. Hi. What are you doing here?
ERIC FOREMAN: Just came to say "hi".
ALLISON CAMERON: Hi again. Where's... Mrs. Berman?
ERIC FOREMAN: Sent her home.
ALLISON CAMERON: I was scheduling her for an MRA.
ERIC FOREMAN: [dismissive] If we gave MRAs to every patient with a headache...
ALLISON CAMERON: This wasn't just a headache, it was the worst in her life.
ERIC FOREMAN: Then lucky for you I'm a neurologist. She went to a wine and cheese tasting. Both triggers for migraines.
ALLISON CAMERON: She's never had a migraine before.
ERIC FOREMAN: And I never had a blueberry bagel before the first time I had one.
ALLISON CAMERON: [arguing] Bagels don't kill people. This is a classic ticking-bomb aneurysm.
ERIC FOREMAN: Wow. This taught me a lesson. I guess when I mess with other people's patients, I risk looking like an officious bitch.
[He gets up and leaves. Cameron speaks to a passing nurse.]
ALLISON CAMERON: We're gonna have to track down Mrs. Berman.
[As the nurse nods and leaves, Cameron sees Mrs. Berman walking over, dragging her IV-line with her, carrying a fresh urine sample.]
ALLISON CAMERON: [to the nurse] Wait... Never mind.
[She purses her lips.]
[PPTH, Outside OR. Day. Cameron complains to Dr. Robert Chase, who's washing his hands, prepping for surgery.]
ROBERT CHASE: That's funny.
ALLISON CAMERON: It's not funny. It's totally immature.
ROBERT CHASE: [amused] It is funny. You just can't appreciate it because you're the victim.
ALLISON CAMERON: Yeah, I deserve shame and ridicule for offering a consult. Unheard of for a doctor.
ROBERT CHASE: You didn't offer a medical consult. You offered a "Dealing with Foreman" consult.
ALLISON CAMERON: For the good of the patient. It's what House would have done.
ROBERT CHASE: Maybe House will hear about it and tear up with pride.
ALLISON CAMERON: You think I'm trying to impress him.
ROBERT CHASE: I think that, for someone who's not involved in his team, you're remarkably involved in his team. Let it go. Let him go.
[Finished with the hand-washing, he turns to her. Pettily, she splashes some water on his freshly-washed hands.]
ROBERT CHASE: And that's mature?
[She gives him a kiddish pout and leaves. He prepares to wash again.]
[CIA Hospital, John's room. Day. House sets up the plasmapheresis machine, while Terzi checks John's blood pressure.]
SAMIRA TERZI: 120 over 80. Let 'er rip.
[House starts the plasmapheresis.]
GREG HOUSE: Now we got the medical stuff out of the way. Why don't we meet back at your place for some enhanced interrogation techniques?
[She gives him a "oh, yeah?" smile.]
GREG HOUSE: My safe word is, "help, please, please stop". It's two "pleases". Anything less than that, you keep going.
SAMIRA TERZI: You actually cure this guy, I'll show you my private water board.
[House gives her an intrigued smile.]
SAMIRA TERZI: We need to consult an oncologist about the chemo.
[House still smiles, but then realises she's not flirting.]
GREG HOUSE: Oh, I'm sorry, I thought... you were still euphemizing. My valet knows a little oncology.
[He goes over to his cell phone and dials.]
[Aerial View of PPTH. Day.]
[PPTH Nurse's Station. Day. Dr. James Wilson answers House's phone call.]
JAMES WILSON: [into phone] I was wondering when you'd grow bored of avoiding my calls.
[CIA Hospital, John's room. Day. House speaks to Wilson and sits.]
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] Oh, I can never grow bored of ignoring you. What's the latest protocol on Waldenstrom's?
JAMES WILSON: [into phone] Where are you?
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] CIA headquarters. How much fludarabine...?
JAMES WILSON: [into phone] Either you're sprawled naked on your floor with an empty bottle of Vicodin, or collapsed naked in front of your computer with an empty bottle of Viagra. Please tell me which, because Chase has another pool going.
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] They flew me in to help deal with a sick employee. How much...?
JAMES WILSON: [into phone] Hallucinations. Damn! I shouldn't have bet on the Viagra.
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] Okay, call the Langley switchboard, ask for extension... [looks to Terzi]
SAMIRA TERZI: Thirty-five seventy-eight.
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] Three five seven eight.
[House hangs up.]
SAMIRA TERZI: He asked an awful lot of questions for a valet.
GREG HOUSE: You know, I happen to have a position available on my penis.
[Terzi, who expected another innuendo-laced remark, is surprised at the direct approach. She looks at House, who realises his goof-up.]
GREG HOUSE: Wait a second, I think I screwed up that joke.
SAMIRA TERZI: You offering me a job?
GREG HOUSE: I'd settle for that.
SAMIRA TERZI: As tempting as a position on your _staff_ is, I like it here.
GREG HOUSE: Pays better. And we've only had one assassination attempt.
SAMIRA TERZI: And I'm sure you're a great boss. That's why your fellows left en masse a couple of months ago. [whispering seductively] I have satellite images.
[The room phone rings. House rolls around the bed and answers it.]
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] Inspector Gadget.
[At PPTH, Wilson turns around in shock.]
JAMES WILSON: [into phone] My God. You're actually at the CIA.
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] You've gotta get down here. They've got a satellite aimed directly into Cuddy's vagina. I told them the chances of invasion are slim to none, but... [trails off] Waldenstrom's.
JAMES WILSON: [into phone] Recommended dose is twenty-five milligrams per meter squared. They do a background check on you?
GREG HOUSE: [to Terzi] Twenty-five milligrams?
JAMES WILSON: [into phone] They did a background check on you, they did a background check on your friends.
GREG HOUSE: [into phone] Relax. I'm sure they already know that you brought heroin back from Afghanistan.
[House hangs up. Wilson, panicked, tries to plead his innocence to the CIA switchboard operator, who's always listening.]
JAMES WILSON: [into phone] That... that's not true. I've never been to Afghanistan. House?
[Casey's room. Day. Casey is semi-conscious in bed. Lou speaks to Foreman.]
LOU ALFONSO: She's getting worse.
ERIC FOREMAN: Fever's risen slightly.
[Outside, Brennan knocks on the glass partition. Foreman ignores him.]
LOU ALFONSO: [unsure] But i-it's definitely, um... what, botulism, right? [angry] Because if you're wrong again, and you're treating her for something she doesn't even have...
ERIC FOREMAN: [comforting] The antitoxin hasn't had time to work yet. I know it's hard, but try to be patient.
[Brennan knocks again and mouths "come on" to Foreman.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [to Lou] Excuse me.
[Foreman walks out to speak to Brennan.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: I know you're pissed I interrupted, but you're gonna be even more pissed in a second.
[He shows Foreman a test result. Foreman snatches it away angrily.]
ERIC FOREMAN: You tested her without telling me?
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Yeah. And I know, I'm really, really sorry. But... on the other hand, it's positive.
[Foreman frowns in surprise.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: She has polio.
[Foreman looks at the result.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Now what, boss?
[Concerned, Foreman looks at Brennan.]
[Wilson's Office. Day. Dr. Lisa Cuddy (Dean of Medicine) speaks to Wilson.]
LISA CUDDY: Where's House? He's blown off four hours of clinic.
JAMES WILSON: [quietly] He's consulting for the CIA.
[Cuddy gives him a questioning look.]
JAMES WILSON: Seriously. Call Langley and ask for extension 35... [frowning] 3536?
[Cuddy looks at him, in mock-expectation of the next two digits.]
JAMES WILSON: [fumbling on his desk] There's definitely two threes. I-I wrote it down. I have it somewhere.
LISA CUDDY: He's gonna make up twice his skipped hours in the clinic.
[She starts to walk out.]
JAMES WILSON: Okey-doke.
[She stops at the door.]
LISA CUDDY: And for protecting him, you're gonna make up twice that.
JAMES WILSON: Why are you punishing me worse than him?
LISA CUDDY: Because House never learns. You might.
[She walks off, shutting the door behind her, leaving Wilson to wonder what just happened.]
[CIA Hospital, John's room. Night. John is now conscious. He holds some fallen hair in his fingers. House enters.]
GREG HOUSE: How're you feeling?
JOHN: Like crap.
GREG HOUSE: Yeah, cancer can be that way.
[House looks at his chart.]
JOHN: [showing the fallen hair] My hair is falling out.
[House looks at him surprised.]
JOHN: That the chemo?
GREG HOUSE: [quietly] No, it's too quick.
JOHN: So what does it mean?
GREG HOUSE: [somberly] It means you don't have cancer. Someone actually did try to kill you.
[CIA Hospital. Terzi's Office. Night. Terzi uneasily drums her fingers on her desk, while House sits and listens to Curtis' tirade.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: You're stubborn. You're arrogant!
GREG HOUSE: There's no need to yell.
SIDNEY CURTIS: You may have cost that man his life!
GREG HOUSE: He's getting the radiation treatment.
SIDNEY CURTIS: Twenty-four hours too late!
GREG HOUSE: I didn't yell at you when I thought you were wrong.
SIDNEY CURTIS: I wasn't wrong!
SAMIRA TERZI: This isn't productive.
SIDNEY CURTIS: [turning on her] There is no productive. It's too late. Because of your inexperience, your poor judgement. And your failure to recognize a reckless fool!
[House has an idea.]
GREG HOUSE: Cordyceps sinensis.
[Terzi looks at him, quizzically.]
GREG HOUSE: It's, uh, it's an herbal treatment derived from a parasitic fungus, comes from caterpillars. Along with dimercaprol chelation, it's been shown to mitigate bone marrow damage from radiation poisoning. [beat] In monkeys.
[Terzi frowns a bit.]
[Diagnostics Office. Night. A defeated Foreman apologizes to the fellows.]
ERIC FOREMAN: I'm sorry. I was stubborn and arrogant.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Self-recriminations won't help her.
"THIRTEEN": Nothing's gonna help her. She's got polio.
AMBER VOLAKIS: There's no cure, but there are treatments.
ERIC FOREMAN: [resigned] She's dying.
CHRIS TAUB: Yeah. Every death's a tragedy. Funny how you weren't so depressed when she was just dying because me and Amber screwed up.
ERIC FOREMAN: And I'm also self-centered. Thanks for clarifying.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [his two cents] Don't forget self-pitying.
[Foreman throws him a look.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Vitamin C. Extremely high doses. It was experimental treatment protocol in the fifties.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: And they haven't finished yet?
TRAVIS BRENNAN: They... lost funding.
ERIC FOREMAN: That's because there's no logical reason Vitamin C would cure polio.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Well, someone thought there was.
ERIC FOREMAN: Someone thought black people made excellent farm implements.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: I'm not talking about hurting anyone. I just wanna force feed her some orange juice.
ERIC FOREMAN: You wanna throw in some bacon and eggs as well?
TRAVIS BRENNAN: If there's anything you learn today, it's gotta be that you can be wrong.
[With no other choice, Foreman nods his agreement. Brennan leaves.]
[CIA Hospital. John's room. Night. While House prepares the herbal brew, Terzi leans in front of John. Curtis hangs around, disgruntled.]
SAMIRA TERZI: John, can you hear me? We're going to start you on an experimental treatment.
GREG HOUSE: It's a Chinese herb, which has been effective in...
JOHN: I'm dying, aren't I?
GREG HOUSE: [beat] Probably.
[He puts the tea to John's lips. John slowly drinks the brew.]
[Outside Casey's Room. Night. Brennan and a skeptical-looking Foreman speak to Lou.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: We're gonna attempt an experimental protocol.
LOU ALFONSO: A new drug?
TRAVIS BRENNAN: An old one. Vitamin C. Ultra-high doses have been shown to destroy the polio virus and heal nerve damage.
LOU ALFONSO: [hopeful] She could regain use of her legs.
ERIC FOREMAN: It's unlikely.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: [encouraging] But we're gonna try. Don't give up.
[Lou looks at Brennan and Foreman, considering it.]
[CIA Hospital, John's room. Night. House puts another cup to John's mouth. Finished, John lies back down and sighs.]
JOHN: [drawling] Nausea's... not as bad.
GREG HOUSE: Radiation sickness has a latency period. You'll get better before you get worse.
[House sits in front of him. A beat passes.]
JOHN: You wanna know what I really did down there?
GREG HOUSE: Only if it's interesting.
JOHN: [smiling at the memory] The women there... during Carnival, they... they do this dance. They call it the Devil Dance.
GREG HOUSE: Not interesting.
JOHN: I spent all forty days with this attaché to the Minister of Defense. The most... buttoned-down woman you'd ever meet. You know? 'Cept when she did this dance. She agreed to tell me stuff...
[John winces as he feels some pain.]
GREG HOUSE: Okay, we have half a good story there.
GREG HOUSE: Best way to rid yourself of that guilt is to confess your sins.
JOHN: This pain is... right. It's comforting. It makes me think that... somehow, it all makes sense.
[Suddenly, House has an epiphany.]
GREG HOUSE: What do you mean, forty days?
JOHN: When they found out... what she... told me.
GREG HOUSE: Carnival in Bolivia's only eight days. [small beat] You have any idea what a chestnut looks like?
[John looks at him in confusion.]
[CIA Hospital, Terzi's Office. Night. House bursts inside and speaks to Terzi.]
GREG HOUSE: You idiot.
SAMIRA TERZI: Who are you calling an idiot?
[House turns around to see Agent Smith sitting on the couch.]
GREG HOUSE: Whoever knew that John was stationed in Brazil, not Bolivia.
SAMIRA TERZI: Brazil?
GREG HOUSE: [turning to Smith] Well, then, I guess I'm talking to you, idiot.
AGENT SMITH: It's the same region. It's the same parasites, same diseases.
GREG HOUSE: But not the same language. In Bolivia, chestnuts are chestnuts. Brazil, on the other hand, it's castanhas-do-Pará, literally, "chestnuts from Pará". Because it would be stupid for people from Brazil to call them Brazil nuts!
AGENT SMITH: So he ate Brazil nuts. Big deal.
GREG HOUSE: No, he ate a lot of Brazil nuts. Which is a big deal, because they contain selenium.
[Terzi closes her eyes, understanding.]
GREG HOUSE: Which, in high doses, causes fatigue, vomiting, skin irritation, discharge from the fingernail beds, and hair loss. Any of that sounding familiar?
AGENT SMITH: Can you treat it?
GREG HOUSE: We've already started. Treatment's chelation, same as for radiation sickness. The only difference is it works a lot better on nut poisoning.
AGENT SMITH: So what's the problem?
SAMIRA TERZI: You're an idiot.
[House turns to her, to see who she called an idiot. She looks from Smith to House, confirming that Smith was the idiot. House looks back at Smith, who folds his arms, annoyed.]
[Casey's room. Night. Casey shivers as Foreman pulls her blanket off. Lou sits at the side, while Brennan watches.]
LOU ALFONSO: Why is she shivering?
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Low serum calcium is a side effect of the treatment. I can give her a calcium supplement.
CASEY ALFONSO: My arm hurts.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Infusion rate has to remain high for the treatment to work.
LOU ALFONSO: Is it working?
[Foreman pricks Casey's toe with a pin. She reacts with a start.]
ERIC FOREMAN: You feel that?
CASEY ALFONSO: Yeah. [excited] It hurts.
[Foreman almost can't believe it.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: It's working. This is fantastic.
[Lou goes over to an elated Casey, clasps her hand and kisses her on the forehead. Brennan smiles happily at a nonplussed Foreman.]
[CIA Hospital, Hallway. House walks with Terzi.]
GREG HOUSE: There's a lot you can learn in my fellowship. A few new procedures I could teach you. 'Course, we'd need a nurse to prep.
SAMIRA TERZI: I know how to kill a man with my thumb.
GREG HOUSE: Actually, I was just trying to make another euphemism for sex.
SAMIRA TERZI: So was I.
[Curtis, who has been walking behind them, sighs in exasperation.]
SIDNEY CURTIS: Oh, God. How can you flirt with this idiot? He lied to us again and again. He broke laws, ethical codes...
[They stop at the elevator.]
GREG HOUSE: I was right.
SIDNEY CURTIS: That doesn't mean everything.
SAMIRA TERZI: It means a lot. [shakes Curtis' hand] Dr. Curtis. [shakes House's hand] Dr. House. Appreciate your help.
[She walks off. Curtis enters the elevator. House hangs back, watching Terzi walk away. The elevator door starts to close. House clumsily manages to pry it open and enter.]
[Doctor's Lounge. Night. Foreman sits alone, despondent. Cameron enters.]
ALLISON CAMERON: Hey.
ERIC FOREMAN: [downcast] Hey.
[Setting her bag down, she sits in front of him. He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to speak.]
ALLISON CAMERON: When... when you were dying, you tried to infect me. Because you knew I'd fight for you if I thought I was dying too.
ERIC FOREMAN: You bringing this up now so I'll forgive you for messing with my patient?
ALLISON CAMERON: I'm happy I changed jobs. But I know I'll never have that sort of... excitement.
ERIC FOREMAN: You miss people trying to kill you?
ALLISON CAMERON: No. I miss... people doing whatever it takes to get the job done. [beat] I guess that's why I'm having trouble giving it up. I shouldn't have helped them mess with your patient.
ERIC FOREMAN: [sighs] They had to screw with me. I've gotten everything wrong.
ALLISON CAMERON: I don't believe it. You're not gonna get everything right. But you're never gonna get everything wrong.
[With a smile, she leaves. Foreman considers her words.]
[Aerial View of PPTH. Day.]
[PPTH Auditorium. Day. House enters brightly. The fellows, coffee-cups in hand, are already there. No Foreman. though.]
GREG HOUSE: Morning!
CHRIS TAUB: Uh, where have you been the last two days?
GREG HOUSE: Overslept.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: We saved Speed Racer.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: She had polio. We cured it with Vitamin C.
GREG HOUSE: Yeah. I cured depression with tonic water once. Actually, I think there was some gin in it too.
CHRIS TAUB: Hundred and fifty grams over six hours. It worked.
[Behind them, Foreman enters, carrying a test result.]
ERIC FOREMAN: No, it didn't.
[They turn to him.]
ERIC FOREMAN: I told you you can't cure polio. That means either she's not cured or she never had it. Since she's walking out of here...
[He hands the test result to House.]
ERIC FOREMAN: I tested her blood from admittance. No polio. That means Brennan screwed up the lab tests.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: Or you screwed up your lab tests.
AMBER VOLAKIS: [to Foreman] You must have. She got better.
ERIC FOREMAN: So it's relapsing and remitting. Maybe... porphyria.
GREG HOUSE: Nah, that's a stretch. If she had porphyria, you would have seen purple urine.
ERIC FOREMAN: You think it's more likely he cured polio?
GREG HOUSE: They believe it. Her symptoms fit perfectly. And the alternative is unbelievably convoluted. Some doctor would have to poison her with thallium so it looks like polio, then fake a lab test, then give her Vitamin C and stop the poison so she magically gets better. [as if just realizing] Actually... [to Brennan] it is kinda doable, right?
[Foreman looks at Brennan, shocked. Brennan looks expressionlessly at them. The others also are surprised.]
GREG HOUSE: So what do you think? Should we test her for thallium before you contact Stockholm?
"THIRTEEN": [to Brennan, astonished] You poisoned her?
GREG HOUSE: The really shocking thing is that Foreman was right about the heatstroke.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: [persistent] Vitamin C cures polio. I've seen it.
GREG HOUSE: Yeah. In some bush clinic. You needed polio in a place with a proper lab. The only problem is that places with proper labs don't have polio.
TRAVIS BRENNAN: [standing up and approaching House] There is no money in finding cures for diseases that only kill poor people. [to the others] This will make them do research.
[The other fellows are too stunned to respond.]
TRAVIS BRENNAN: [to Foreman and House] And what do you care if I faked a lab test if it saves a few thousand lives? I did what I had to do. Isn't that what you hired us for?
[He looks at House, pleadingly.]
GREG HOUSE: [nods, sighs] Which is why I'm not gonna fire you.
[Brennan is relieved.]
GREG HOUSE: You're gonna quit.
[Brennan's relief evaporates as he looks at House.]
GREG HOUSE: Go on, get outta here.
[Resigned, Brennan nods and leaves.]
ERIC FOREMAN: So you're just gonna let him go?
GREG HOUSE: Absolutely. I'm gonna let him get as far away as possible before you call the cops. Guy's a nut job. [to the fellows] Who the hell did I leave in charge?
[The Fellows point to Foreman.]
CHRIS TAUB: Foreman.
GREG HOUSE: There was a reason for that. Next time, listen to him.
[House leaves. Foreman, not normally used to getting praise from House, has a hint of a smile on his frowning face.]
[PPTH Lobby. Night. House is on his way out. Cuddy comes up behind him.]
LISA CUDDY: Where have you been? And don't say the CIA.
GREG HOUSE: Okay. By the way, one of my employees...
LISA CUDDY: Either you're gonna have to get someone from the CIA to call and confirm your story, or [smiling] you're doing eight clinic hours and Wilson is doing sixteen.
[House acts like he's about to divulge a big secret.]
GREG HOUSE: [seriously] I was in the Hamptons. I was helping some rich hedge-fund jerk treat his son's sniffles. Fascinating as that sounds.
[Cuddy seems to buy the bull.]
LISA CUDDY: For your honesty, I will forgive _your_ hours.
GREG HOUSE: Thank you.
[House turns slowly, making a gargantuan effort not to smile at his boss' naivété. He moves a couple of steps towards the door, when...]
LISA CUDDY: [obviously didn't believe him] No!
LISA CUDDY: The only thing less likely than your helping the CIA is your helping some rich guy on Long Island. You're doing your hours and Wilson's.
GREG HOUSE: I know how to kill a man with my thumb.
LISA CUDDY: Who doesn't?
[CUE MUSIC: "I Idolize You" by Tina Turner]
[She walks away. Thwarted, House leaves the hospital.]
[Outside, he walks and sees Dr. Terzi, sitting on a bench. She stands when she sees him.]
SAMIRA TERZI: Hi.
GREG HOUSE: Hi.
[She approaches him. He bites his lower lip.]
SAMIRA TERZI: I'm going to take you up on your offer.
GREG HOUSE: Yeah? Well, I, uh, I live a couple miles from here.
SAMIRA TERZI: [giggles] That's not the offer I meant. I gave notice today.
GREG HOUSE: You said you were happy at the Company.
SAMIRA TERZI: I lied. Doubt you'll hold it against me. [beat] I'll see you at nine o'clock on Monday.
[House gives a small nod. With a meaningful look, she walks off. Camera holds on House.]