Written by: Peter Blake, David Foster, Russel Friend & Garrett Lerner
Directed by: Katie Jacobs
Transcribed by: Rahul (rahulkudva)
Beta'ed by: notestaff
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.
JAMES WILSON: [vo] Previously on House.
[Accident site. Night. The bus lies on its side, smoke rising out from inside. Fire engines, ambulances and police cruisers stand near it, while rescue personnel mill about. Dr. Gregory House stands and watches the proceedings, a look of confusion on his face.]
GREG HOUSE: [vo] I don't know how I got here. I saw a symptom before the crash.
[Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, Emergency Room. Day. While Dr. Allison Cameron attends to his injured head, House speaks to Dr. James Wilson.]
GREG HOUSE: Why was I taking the bus?
[House's Office. Night. Dr. Robert Chase assists House with medical hypnosis.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [vo] Medical hypnosis can...
[House's Subconscious/Bus. Night. House sits alone in the bus, the windows fogged, and looks around.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [vo] ... bring the brain to a class two theta state.
[House's Office. Night. House, feeling the effects of a killer headache, presses the edges of his palms to his forehead and leans forward.]
[House's Office. Night. Wilson tries to talk House out of the medical hypnosis.]
JAMES WILSON: Taxing an already injured brain.
[Diagnostics Office. Day. House snaps at his Fellows.]
GREG HOUSE: Someone is dying because I can't remember.
[Bus. Night. House looks directly at Amber Volakis, sitting opposite him, just as a bright light rushes towards them, behind her and crashes into the bus. She gets thrown towards him and rolls off, as glass flies everywhere. She falls towards the bus well.]
GREG HOUSE: [vo] It was Amber.
[Bus. Day. House lies on the ground, after almost ODing on physostigmine trying to remember. He speaks to Wilson, who looks shocked.]
GREG HOUSE: She was on the bus with me. She's the one who's dying.
[Princeton General Hospital, ICU. Day. Wilson stands near Amber's bed, where she lies unconscious, hooked up to a respirator and monitors. Concerned, he strokes her head gently, as the attending doctor speaks.]
ATTENDING DOCTOR: Her heart won't stop racing. No idea what's causing it.
[House stands near the attending and reads Amber's file.]
GREG HOUSE: Sure it wasn't the bus that landed on her?
ATTENDING DOCTOR: It's not trauma. She was stable post-op. This didn't start until an hour ago.
[Distressed, Wilson looks at the tube down Amber's throat and her head wound.]
JAMES WILSON: [barely audible] Oh, my God.
GREG HOUSE: Delayed reaction to the trauma. She lost both her kidneys in the bus crash. She ripped up her femoral artery.
ATTENDING DOCTOR: We fixed the artery, got her on dialysis for the kidneys. Whatever's doing this to her heart, it isn't from the crash.
GREG HOUSE: Check her potassium?
ATTENDING DOCTOR: Of course.
JAMES WILSON: [to the attending] Why didn't you call me?
ATTENDING DOCTOR: She's been under the whole time. She had no ID.
GREG HOUSE: Pushed adenosine?
ATTENDING DOCTOR: And verapamil, and floated the swan an hour ago.
GREG HOUSE: Coronary angiography?
ATTENDING DOCTOR: Three critical patients ahead of her. We'll have her in within the hour.
GREG HOUSE: We're fifteen minutes away from Princeton Plainsboro by ambulance.
ATTENDING DOCTOR: You wanna move her? Her heart rate is a hundred and thirty.
GREG HOUSE: She's hemodynamically stable. We're moving her.
ATTENDING DOCTOR: You're not her doctor. You can't make that decision.
GREG HOUSE: [looking towards Wilson] Her husband can.
[Wilson looks up in surprise.]
GREG HOUSE: [loudly for Wilson to play along] Right?
[Wilson looks at Amber once more and turns to the attending.]
JAMES WILSON: Move her.
[Ambulance. Day. House and Wilson flank Amber, who lies unconscious on a gurney in the middle. House pumps oxygen into her mouth, as he speaks.]
GREG HOUSE: If the trauma didn't damage her heart...
JAMES WILSON: [still grief-stricken] Why was she on the bus?
GREG HOUSE: I don't know. If she had any underlying condition, the accident could have exacerbated it.
JAMES WILSON: Why were you with her?
GREG HOUSE: [shouts] I don't know! I'm not hiding anything. I just don't remember. What else could damage her heart?
[Wilson distantly presses the bridge of his nose. House looks at his friend, who seems close to losing it.]
GREG HOUSE: Wilson, don't get lost! I'm barely coherent. I need your help right now.
[Wilson relaxes a bit... just in time for the monitor to start beeping.]
GREG HOUSE: V-fib!
[Quick as a flash, House throws the pump aside and pulls out the defibrillator paddles. Wilson watches in fear as Amber flatlines.]
GREG HOUSE: Charging.
JAMES WILSON: Okay. Okay.
GREG HOUSE: Clear.
[As House prepares to shock Amber's heart, Wilson puts his hand out suddenly.]
JAMES WILSON: Wait, wait, wait! Protective hypothermia.
GREG HOUSE: You wanna freeze her? Her heart's not beating.
JAMES WILSON: Her heart's already damaged. If you restart it, it'll keep racing, shoot off free radicals, and kill her brain. We ice her down, put her on bypass until you've diagnosed her.
GREG HOUSE: This is not a solution. All you're doing is pressing pause.
JAMES WILSON: It gives you more time to find a diagnosis. House, this is Amber!
[Torn, House looks at Amber, his two fingers pressed down on her throat.]
JAMES WILSON: [begging] Please.
[House balks for a second and then jerks his head towards Wilson's right.]
GREG HOUSE: Cold saline solution.
[They scramble to get the cold saline. House smacks two cold packs on his knees and puts it on her chest. As Wilson hooks her up to the solution, the ambulance doors open into a bright light, as we...]
[PPTH, ICU. Day. Amber lies on a bed in the middle of the white room, as surgeons hook her up to a heart/lung bypass machine.]
[PPTH ICU, Observation Room. Day. A listless Wilson watches as they work on her. Near him, Dr. Eric Foreman looks at Amber's bruised body. House comes up, looking emotionless. Dr. Chris Taub rests his head in his hands. "Thirteen" (Dr. Hadley) is almost in tears. Dr. Lawrence Kutner doesn't seem as affected by Amber's condition. He looks at Wilson. As they watch, Chase speaks.]
ROBERT CHASE: Cool temperature down to ninety.
[He turns on a bypass machine.]
ROBERT CHASE: Bypass circulating.
[He looks at the monitors and then at the observation room]
ROBERT CHASE: [nods] She's stable.
ERIC FOREMAN: Why are we doing this?
GREG HOUSE: Bought us time to think.
[With a look at Wilson, House leaves. As the others follow him out, Taub and Foreman give Wilson encouraging pats on his shoulder. Wilson stays.]
[Diagnostics Office. Day. House writes "TACHYCARDIA" on the whiteboard as the others stand around him.]
GREG HOUSE: The trauma must have stimulated a pre-existing heart condition.
CHRIS TAUB: Autoimmune congenital anomaly, blood clotting disorder, lead poisoning...
"THIRTEEN": Could be anything.
GREG HOUSE: [gives her a healthy dose of frustrated sarcasm] Great! Let's explore that. Quick, get her on panacea.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: We can narrow it down by looking for arterial blockages.
ERIC FOREMAN: How? On an echo? Can't see wall motion when there's no motion.
[House massages his head, still feeling the effects of the concussion.]
ERIC FOREMAN: EKG, nope. Heart's in the off position. Thallium uptake scan? Useless on a cold heart.
GREG HOUSE: [berating] Yeah, we get it. Her heart's not beating. It's gonna make it harder to diagnose. On the other hand, she's not gonna die while you're whining about it. What else?
LAWRENCE KUTNER: There is another way to narrow it down. If you really did see a symptom in Amber before the crash, physostigmine helped your memory last time.
CHRIS TAUB: Why not cyanide? He's a mess. He needs to sleep.
GREG HOUSE: [to Kutner] I had a heart attack this morning. Can't do any more drugs till lunch. Get her an angiogram. Could show damage even in a stopped heart. Rest of you search her apartment. Toxins, heavy metals, drugs, anything that might make her heart race.
[Foreman, "Thirteen" and Kutner leave. Taub hangs back, as House limps into his office.]
[House's Office. Day. House sourly walks to his desk and tosses his cane to the side. His fists clenched, he leans on the desk and slowly falls into his chair. He massages his forehead. Hearing Taub enter, he looks at him in annoyance. Taub walks in front of House's desk, awkwardly.]
CHRIS TAUB: I need to know if there's anything medically relevant that you couldn't share publicly.
GREG HOUSE: [looks around in mock-concern] Is this a Philanderers Anonymous intervention?
CHRIS TAUB: You were obviously drinking last night. Maybe you took Amber to a bar.
GREG HOUSE: I left here on my motorcycle alone.
CHRIS TAUB: You ended up drunk on a bus together. Maybe you met Amber in the bar.
GREG HOUSE: [gets a file out of the drawer] I was not having an affair with her.
CHRIS TAUB: You can't really say that if you don't remember.
GREG HOUSE: I lost four hours, not four months.
CHRIS TAUB: Maybe it was the first time.
[House looks at Taub, wondering if it was.]
CHRIS TAUB: If you drank together, any chance you did any drugs?
[House can't remember and looks down at the file.]
CHRIS TAUB: [quietly] I'll run a tox screen.
[He leaves, as House continues to wonder what happened that night.]
[Amber's Apartment. Day. Kutner and "Thirteen" enter the apartment, using Amber's key. Kutner drops his bag on the armchair and starts to rifle through it. "Thirteen" seems reluctant. She looks at an IPod on a docking station, near some manicure paraphernalia, and Wilson's shirt and tie, packed in plastic, lying on an armchair. Kutner walks inside, turning to look at her.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: You comin'?
["Thirteen" nods shortly and follows him. Kutner sits in front of Amber's MacBook.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Correspondence, letters to patients, she could have caught something from one of them.
"THIRTEEN": Copy it to a thumb drive. Let's get out of here.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Travel. Do you know if she's been out of the country recently?
[He clicks on a folder named "Travel". It has a Quicktime movie file.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: It's just video clips. Maybe she narrates where they are.
[He opens the movie file, as "Thirteen" leans over next to him to watch. The video shows Amber lying across the sofa, smiling at the camera.]
JAMES WILSON: [vo] And... action.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Looks like she didn't travel very far.
[Wilson sits on the sofa next to Amber, as she laughs.]
JAMES WILSON: You look beautiful.
AMBER VOLAKIS: You look nervous.
JAMES WILSON: [laughs nervously] I've never done this before.
AMBER VOLAKIS: I have. Trust me. You'll love it.
[She kisses him as she starts to unbutton his shirt. She straddles him... and "Thirteen" ruins it for Kutner, by closing the MacBook.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Hey.
"THIRTEEN": Not even close to relevant.
[Kutner looks understandably disappointed. As "Thirteen" gloves up near the bedroom, Kutner comes up to her.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: As long as we don't know what's wrong, we don't know what's relevant.
"THIRTEEN": Yeah, maybe they're having sex on a pile of asbestos. Go watch it. If we were in a stranger's house, you'd be watching the video. You altered your behavior because you're friends with her.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Are you okay?
"THIRTEEN": We shouldn't be treating her at all.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: I'm gonna search her bathroom.
[He walks past her and goes inside the bathroom, as she slowly gloves up.]
[House's Subconscious/House's Office. Night. Under "ANGIOGRAM (pending)", House writes "DRUGS?" on the whiteboard and underlines it. He slides his chair away from the board and looks at it. Alone in the office, he massages his forehead.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: [vo] Are you okay?
[He looks up and sees Amber, healthy and unscathed, standing near the door, wearing a bright red pantsuit.]
GREG HOUSE: Can't really say "yes" when it's a hallucination asking.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Don't worry, you're just dreaming.
GREG HOUSE: What symptom did I see in you? A myoclonic jerk...
AMBER VOLAKIS: Boring.
GREG HOUSE: An incredibly rare neurological symptom is boring? Am I in someone else's subconscious?
[She leans in front of the desk, looking at him.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: [slowly] What did we do last night?
[House looks down and sees her pouring sherry into one of two flutes. She slides it towards him and looks at him, probingly.]
GREG HOUSE: Was I meeting you for a drink?
AMBER VOLAKIS: Is that all it was? A man thinks a woman is beautiful, admires her intelligence, admires the way she has to get whatever she wants, the things he likes about himself.
[She goes around his desk and comes near him.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: [talks slowly as she slowly eases into his lap] Maybe she always had a little thing for him. His mind. His blue eyes. But someone gets between them. So, they decide to meet one night at an out-of-the-way little bar. Does that sound familiar?
[Their lips are a few inches apart.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: Do I feel familiar? What do you feel? [breathes into his ear] Electricity.
[House's Office. Day. House suddenly wakes up, knocking over his mug, spilling water on his desk.]
[PPTH ICU. Day. House march/limps his way inside and speaks.]
GREG HOUSE: Electricity.
[Dr. Lisa Cuddy attends to Amber, while Wilson sits nearby.]
GREG HOUSE: I know I saw the symptom. I know the memory's locked in my brain. Now I know how to get it.
LISA CUDDY: [simply] No.
GREG HOUSE: [frowns] You don't even know what I'm talking about.
LISA CUDDY: You need to rest. I have yet to hear about any study linking electricity and rest.
GREG HOUSE: Deep brain stimulation. It's been proven. Electrical impulses applied directly to the hypothalamus could evoke detailed memories.
LISA CUDDY: My mistake, drilling a hole and shooting lightning bolts into an already-cracked skull is very restful, it's not fatal at all.
JAMES WILSON: [sighs weakly] She's right. You need to sleep.
[Amber's EEG starts to beep. Cuddy looks at the monitor.]
LISA CUDDY: Brain activity spiked.
JAMES WILSON: [perking up a little] Amber. Amber. It's me.
GREG HOUSE: [dismissive] Random spikes are common.
LISA CUDDY: [softly, rebuking] Shut up.
JAMES WILSON: [quietly] It's gonna be okay. I'm here with you.
[House's pager goes off. He looks at it.]
GREG HOUSE: The team has found something. Can you ask her if we can be excused?
[Wilson doesn't appreciate the jibe. He leaves with House.]
[Diagnostics Office. Day. Foreman and House's Fellows stand inside. House limps inside, followed by Wilson.]
GREG HOUSE: What?
[Foreman and the Fellows look at Wilson and stay quiet. House looks back at Wilson and looks back at them, looking at them questioningly.]
ERIC FOREMAN: Coronary angio was negative.
CHRIS TAUB: So was the tox screen.
JAMES WILSON: That's what you found? Negative tests? I could have told you she doesn't do drugs.
[Awkward stares among Foreman and the Fellows. Then Kutner steps forward, with a bottle of pills in his hand.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [hands the bottle to House] We found these in her apartment. [to Wilson] Sorry. Prescription diet pills. SSRIs, amphetamines.
CHRIS TAUB: Diet pills cause structural damage to the mitral valve, could explain the tachycardia.
JAMES WILSON: Sh-she'd have to be an addict to take enough for it to damage her heart. I'd know.
GREG HOUSE: Did you know that she was hiding them in her vitamins?
ERIC FOREMAN: We have to warm her back up. Get her heart beating so we can do a CT to confirm.
JAMES WILSON: No, we've been over this. Starting her heart could cause brain damage, could burn out the heart muscle.
GREG HOUSE: [thinks] Test her heart without starting it. Crack her chest open, reach a finger inside the pulmonary vein, run it across the valve.
ERIC FOREMAN: That's the safer course?
GREG HOUSE: It is if we're wrong.
ERIC FOREMAN: When did we start assuming we're wrong?
[House and Wilson stay silent.]
ERIC FOREMAN: If this were any other patient...
GREG HOUSE: If the valve is calcified, that's our answer. That's our cure. Go.
[Wilson, Foreman and the Fellows start to leave. As "Thirteen" passes by, House calls her.]
GREG HOUSE: "Thirteen". Who found the diet pills?
GREG HOUSE: You didn't even go in the bathroom, did you? You're suddenly mute in the differentials. A blow-up doll would be more useful. And yes, that's the first time I've ever implied something negative about a blow-up doll.
"THIRTEEN": It's Amber. I...
GREG HOUSE: [interrupts] Normally, I'd be fascinated. Today, don't care. Get over whatever it is and do your job.
[She leaves. House massages his head.]
[PPTH OR. Day. "Thirteen" enters the OR, wearing a surgical mask. The others are already there, scrubbed up. A nurse helps her scrub up. She looks at Amber in trepidation. Amber's eyelids have ben taped shut. Chase peels the tape off of the right eye and sees the white in her eye is now yellow.]
ROBERT CHASE: Wait. Look at her eye.
[Taub and Kutner look at her eye white.]
CHRIS TAUB: She's jaundiced.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Her liver's not working.
ROBERT CHASE: Diet pills don't kill the liver.
[They look at him.]
ROBERT CHASE: Put her back in ICU.
["Thirteen" seems relieved.]
[PPTH ICU. Day. Amber is wheeled back into the ICU.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [vo] Liver failure means whatever this thing is, it's spreading, despite the fact that she's frozen.
[Diagnostics Office. Day. House sits aside, deep in thought, as the Fellows and Foreman sit at the glass table. Wilson stands near the door.]
"THIRTEEN": Hepatic and heart failure could mean antitrypsinase deficiency.
ERIC FOREMAN: We can stick a needle in her liver. If we see fibrosis, she's right.
GREG HOUSE: Does Amber drink sherry?
[They look at him, but decide to ignore him.]
CHRIS TAUB: And the cardio fits just as well. But there's no way we can tell, since we can't take her temperature.
GREG HOUSE: I had a dream. She was pouring me a glass. And since I'm a scotch-, beer-, gin-, and rum-man...
CHRIS TAUB: [still ignoring] If we warm her back up, we should be able to tell if she's got an infection.
JAMES WILSON: [frustrated] Yes, we can get a diagnosis by letting the disease run rampant until it kills her. If it's spreading, we need to slow this even more. We've gotta cool her down further.
[Taub decides to play the voice of reason.]
CHRIS TAUB: I know you love her and, uh, you're scared she's gonna die. But just making her colder and colder isn't a cure. It's not dealing with the reality.
GREG HOUSE: Sherry means something.
JAMES WILSON: [decides to humour him] Amber doesn't even drink sherry. House. Can we get back...?
GREG HOUSE: If she did drink sherry, it would mean nothing. Since she doesn't, my subconscious is obviously trying to make some other point.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: There's a Sharrie's Bar on Third right off the bus route.
[ECU on House as he remembers.]
[ECU: A coaster with "Sharrie's Bar (Estd. 1954)". A glass of scotch is placed on it, by the bartender.]
GREG HOUSE: [getting up] Wilson's right. We need to make her colder.
[Wilson's relieved that House agrees with him.]
CHRIS TAUB: Putting more ice on her is just delaying the diagnosis.
GREG HOUSE: [getting his coat] Not on, in. Fill in her lungs with slurry.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Where are you going?
GREG HOUSE: Taking Wilson out for a drink.
[House walks outside. Wilson sighs heavily and follows.]
[Sharrie's Bar. Day. House and Wilson enter the bar. The place is empty at the moment.]
JAMES WILSON: Is this the place?
GREG HOUSE: [looks around] Maybe.
BARTENDER: [vo] Hey.
[They look at the bartender, behind the counter, making his way to the cash register.]
BARTENDER: I assume you are here...
[He opens the register and pulls out House's motorcycle keys.]
BARTENDER: ... for these.
[He tosses them towards House, who catches them. House and Wilson exchange a look.]
GREG HOUSE: Did you see me here with a-a tall blonde woman?
BARTENDER: Yeah, I think she joined you after scotch number seven.
GREG HOUSE: Did she seem sick?
BARTENDER: She sneezed. I gave her a napkin.
GREG HOUSE: Did you see the color of the sputum?
BARTENDER: I assume sputum means snot. Look, I see a lot of drunk chicks in here. I didn't have time to stop and analyze the color of your girlfriend's boogers.
GREG HOUSE: [looking at Wilson, then back at the bartender, venomously] She's not my girlfriend, genius.
BARTENDER: She was hot, you seemed into her, and she bought you drinks.
[Wilson is surprised.]
BARTENDER: Last night, she was your girlfriend.
[ECU on House as he tries to remember.]
[House walks with Amber, his arm around her, holding her close to him. They both smile at each other.]
GREG HOUSE: [to Wilson] Blood in the sputum could mean parasites. Any recent travel?
JAMES WILSON: You seemed into her?
GREG HOUSE: [points his cane at the bartender] If he had a brain, he wouldn't be tending bar.
[The bartender seems annoyed with the jibe.]
GREG HOUSE: Sneezing's a new symptom. Let's assume the runny nose means an infection.
[PPTH ICU. Day. Kutner and "Thirteen" attend to Amber.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: What did House have to say?
"THIRTEEN": He... told me I was raised by wolves and that's why I use the same hand for my fork and knife.
[He notices that she's about to connect the wrong tube to Amber's tube.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Ooh. Not that one. The slurry tube.
"THIRTEEN": [realizes her mistake, shudders] Oh.
[She drops the tubes and leans over the bed.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [sighs] I know this is different. But it's not. Everyone dies.
"THIRTEEN": [looks at him in surprise] She's not dead.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: You're reacting this way because she might be... soon.
"THIRTEEN": Yeah, I am. Why aren't you?
LAWRENCE KUTNER: I'm an Indian guy named "Kutner". Ever wonder what happened to my parents?
"THIRTEEN": [understands] I'm sorry, I didn't...
LAWRENCE KUTNER: I was six years old. I used to like helping out in my parents' store after school. Guy walks in to rob the place. Ends up shooting them both. Wasn't fair. Took years, but I had to accept that's just the way it was. [beat] So you gonna help me fill her lungs up or not?
["Thirteen" gives a small nod and connects the proper tube this time. The slurry flows through the tube, into Amber's lungs. Flash to an X-ray of Amber's chest. The super-cooled fluid flows into her lungs.]
[PPTH Laboratory. Night. Foreman and Taub conduct tests. House enters, a bit fatigued.]
GREG HOUSE: Tell me that the liver biopsy showed infiltrates, minor inflammation.
CHRIS TAUB: Yeah. How...?
GREG HOUSE: Snot on a napkin. Add the heart, infiltrates...
ERIC FOREMAN: [understands] Hep B.
GREG HOUSE: Start her on IV interferon. I'll go tell Wilson.
[He starts to leave.]
ERIC FOREMAN: Good idea. And I'll go nap because I was concussed last night and had a heart attack this morning. I'll tell Wilson, you go sleep.
[Foreman walks past House, who seems a bit grateful, though he doesn't show it.]
[House's Subconscious/PPTH ICU. Night. House enters the ICU, looking at Amber's unconscious form. He limps slowly inside and hangs his cane on a machine nearby. He leans over the bed and looks at Amber. Suddenly, Amber's eyes open wide. House gets a start. She looks at him.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: Hepatitis B is a lame diagnosis.
GREG HOUSE: [whining] Oh, God. I get less rest when I'm asleep.
[Amber gets up and, facing away from him, starts removing the monitor leads off her head.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: I rise from the dead, and that's the reaction I get?
GREG HOUSE: I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have started a breakaway Jewish sect. Hep B fits.
[She undoes the velcro of her gown and the back of the gown open.]
GREG HOUSE: Why are you doing that?
AMBER VOLAKIS: Because Hep B doesn't fit.
[He frowns as he looks at the small of her back.]
[House's Office. Night. He jerks awake.]
[PPTH ICU. Night. He limps quickly inside and addresses Foreman and Taub.]
GREG HOUSE: Turn her over.
[House limps to the other side of the room.]
CHRIS TAUB: We're about to start a second course of interferon.
GREG HOUSE: Which she might not need once you turn her over. Small of her back.
[Knowing it's useless to argue, Foreman and Taub go over to Amber's right side and turn her over. Taub undoes the gown velcro. The back is bruised courtesy of the accident.]
CHRIS TAUB: She's bruised. Why is that significant?
GREG HOUSE: Look closer.
[Taub and Foreman lean in to take a closer look. They see a small red rash.]
ERIC FOREMAN: A rash. How'd you know what was on the small of her back?
GREG HOUSE: Either I'm still asleep, or I'm starting to remember.
[PPTH ICU. Night. Amber lies on her side. House leans, examining the rash with a flashlight, while Kutner and "Thirteen" lean beside him. Wilson, Foreman and Taub are also there.]
CHRIS TAUB: Looks like an influenza rash.
ERIC FOREMAN: The flu wouldn't be killing her organs one by one.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: Dermatomyositis.
GREG HOUSE: Wouldn't speed up her heart.
"THIRTEEN": Maybe it's an allergic reaction to the interferon.
GREG HOUSE: Yes, the symptom that I saw on the bus was a rare interferon allergy that flares up two days before you take it.
["Thirteen" rolls her eyes and stands straight. House and Kutner also straighten up.]
JAMES WILSON: [in disbelief] How did you see the rash down there?
GREG HOUSE: I don't know. Maybe she leaned over.
ERIC FOREMAN: Maybe it's not a rash at all. It could be an abscess.
GREG HOUSE: "Thirteen", stick a needle in there. If there's pus, Foreman's right.
"THIRTEEN": Ultrasound is safer.
GREG HOUSE: I'm not asking you to stick a needle all the way through. Taub, you do it.
"THIRTEEN": [defensively] No, wait, I can do it.
GREG HOUSE: [yelling] No, apparently, you can't!
[Chastised, "Thirteen" walks out. Taub goes over to Amber, with a syringe, and pushes the syringe into the rash.]
CHRIS TAUB: It's not fluctuant.
[Removing the needle and flicking it with his finger, he looks at it.]
CHRIS TAUB: Clear. It's not pus.
ERIC FOREMAN: Means it's vesicular. Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.
JAMES WILSON: We had dinner with a friend last week. We walked their dogs. I guess she could've gotten a tick.
ERIC FOREMAN: It's treatable. Doxycycline.
GREG HOUSE: Allow eight hours for the antibiotics to take effect, then we warm her up, shock her heart.
JAMES WILSON: [stepping forward] Wait a minute, wait a minute! If we're wrong, restarting her heart could kill her. Run blood cultures first.
ERIC FOREMAN: The fastest way to test is to treat. If we're wrong, still should give us time to try something else.
JAMES WILSON: [firmly] We are not starting her heart until we're one hundred percent certain.
ERIC FOREMAN: [retorts] We're never one hundred percent certain.
[Wilson wants to argue more, but restrains himself. Foreman turns to House.]
GREG HOUSE: Run the blood cultures. After we get confirmation, then we'll restart her heart.
ERIC FOREMAN: [arguing] He's wrong. And you know he's wrong. You can't change your mind just because a family member starts crying. They're always scared.
GREG HOUSE: [politely, yet sternly] I said, run the blood cultures.
[He walks off. Foreman throws a look at Wilson. Wilson struggles to remain resolute.]
[PPTH, Ladies Restroom. Night. "Thirteen" sits in a stall, trying hard not to cry, leaning against a toilet-paper dispenser. A foot slides from under the next stall and taps her foot. She gets a start. The intruding foot quickly withdraws.]
GREG HOUSE: Sorry. Wide stance.
[House sits in the adjoining stall.]
"THIRTEEN": [choking] You're right. I'm screwing up.
GREG HOUSE: Why are you screwing up?
"THIRTEEN": I didn't even like her.
GREG HOUSE: Did you hate her?
"THIRTEEN": Not enough to want her dead.
GREG HOUSE: 'S not guilt. That just leaves fear. Young woman dying. Young doctor dying, in fact. That sound familiar?
[Not wanting to discuss this again, she gets up to leave. She opens the stall door and almost walks into House. She sighs heavily.]
"THIRTEEN": Yeah, I'm at risk for Huntington's. I've dealt with it.
GREG HOUSE: By not getting tested? Dealing with it by not dealing with it. It's clearly working beautifully.
"THIRTEEN": You are the champion of not dealing with your problems.
GREG HOUSE: My grandson gave me a mug that says that. Okay. Enough hand-holding. Deal with it. Get back in there. Or pack up your stuff.
"THIRTEEN": You're screwing up this case worse than I am.
[She strides past him and leaves. Angrily, he slaps the stall separator.]
CUE MUSIC: "Teardrop" — Jose Gonzalez
[PPTH Cafeteria. Night. Wilson sits despondently at a table. Cameron comes up to him. He looks up at her. She sits down next to him.]
# Love, love is a verb #
# Love is a doing word #
[House's Office. Night. House sleeps on his armchair, his feet resting on the footrest. His jacket covers him.]
# Feathers on my bre-e-e-eath #
# Gentle impulsion #
# Shakes me, makes me lighter #
[PPTH Laboratory. Night. "Thirteen" sits alone in the dark. Puting on the light, she prepares to draw her blood. A little later, she removes the syringe and tourniquet. She looks at the sample.]
# Feathers on my bre-e-e-eath #
# Teardrop on the fire #
# Feathers on my bre-e-e-eath #
[PPTH ICU. Night. Foreman, alone with Amber, is still not happy about delaying the treatment.]
[Cuddy's Office. Night. Cuddy looks up from her paperwork at Foreman, who hands her a folder. She glances at it and looks at Foreman.]
ERIC FOREMAN: House is gonna kill the patient.
[She looks at the file.]
[PPTH ICU. Night. Foreman and Cuddy warm Amber up. Wilson enters and reacts in shock.]
JAMES WILSON: What are you... what are you doing?
[Caught, Foreman and Cuddy continue nevertheless. Wilson looks at Amber's temperature.]
JAMES WILSON: She's up to eighty degrees!
LISA CUDDY: We're gonna restart her heart.
[Wilson runs over and yanks off the blanket covering Amber.]
JAMES WILSON: No, you're not! There's still time to undo this, cool her back down.
ERIC FOREMAN: You weren't taking the safe approach.
[Wilson looks at the EEG monitor in horror.]
ERIC FOREMAN: We've gotta know if the antibiotics are working.
JAMES WILSON: Her EEG's slowed.
[Cuddy and Foreman look at the monitor in surprise, and then at each other. Wilson leans close to Amber.]
JAMES WILSON: Amber. Amber.
[No response. Wilson looks at Foreman in undisguised anger.]
JAMES WILSON: Well done. We still don't know what it is, but you just let it spread to her brain!
[He runs off.]
[PPTH ICU. Day. The Fellows cool Amber back down.]
JAMES WILSON: [vo, mad] This is exactly what I said would happen! It's in her brain now!
LISA CUDDY: [vo] Brain involvement gives us a new symptom.
[House's Office. Day. Cuddy and an enraged Wilson argue, as House sits on the armchair between them, still drowsy.]
JAMES WILSON: That wouldn't be there if you hadn't...
LISA CUDDY: It's where the disease was going. We needed to know that.
[House gets up and walks away from the argument near his table.]
JAMES WILSON: [yelling] This was not your decision to make! You went behind my back. You went behind House's back.
GREG HOUSE: [to himself] Inside voices.
LISA CUDDY: House wanted to warm her up. You just guilted him into changing his mind.
[Wilson sighs. Cuddy goes over to House.]
LISA CUDDY: Heart, liver, rash, and now her brain.
GREG HOUSE: Autoimmune fits best. Crash trauma could've set it off. Start her on prednisone, then we'll warm her up again. [sits]
JAMES WILSON: House, if this is some other infection, the steroids will trash her immune system.
[Cuddy looks at House. House looks away. Cuddy turns to Wilson, putting her hand on his shoulder.]
LISA CUDDY: [softly] He's the attending. You're the family. Go spend more time with the patient.
[She leaves. Wilson looks at House.]
JAMES WILSON: [shaking his head] You can't do this.
GREG HOUSE: That's not a good argument. It's not an argument at all. I'm sorry.
[Wilson sighs heavily and vents his frustration on House, by kicking a chair lightly and walking off in a huff. He walks in the hallway for about five seconds and then stops. He enters House's office again. House, on the phone, puts it down.]
JAMES WILSON: [struggling to remain calm] Cuddy's right. I was afraid to do anything. I thought if everything just stopped, it would be okay.
GREG HOUSE: And it's gonna be. Taub's starting the treatment. We're doing everything...
JAMES WILSON: Not everything. Before you warm her up... You said you wanted to try deep brain stimulation.
GREG HOUSE: But there's no reason. We know the symptom, we know what I saw.
JAMES WILSON: What if it's not the rash? What if you noticed the rash in the ambulance or when we were putting her on bypass? What if there is still something else stuck inside your head?
GREG HOUSE: You think I should risk my life to save Amber's.
[Wilson thinks for a second and nods, looking pleadingly at House. House smirks mirthlessly and then nods his agreement to Wilson.]
[PPTH Procedure Room. Day. House's head is bolted to a stereotactic frame, his feet dangling off the chair. He's hooked up to monitors and IV drips. Chase slowly and carefully inserts an electrode into House's brain and fixes it to the frame. House and Wilson exchange looks.]
ROBERT CHASE: Inserting the IPG probe into your ventral hypothalamus. [to Wilson] Give me three volts.
[Wilson turns the dial and hits a button. The camera zooms inside the machine, where a diode glows brightly. The camera speeds along the wires, taking the electricity through the electrode into the brain and...]
[House's Subconscious/Sharrie's Bar. Night. The picture is black and white. The bartender says something, but there's no sound.]
GREG HOUSE: [vo] Can't hear him.
JAMES WILSON: [co] Can't hear who?
GREG HOUSE: Everything's in black and white.
JAMES WILSON: Who was talking? Is Amber there?
GREG HOUSE: [to Chase] You're supposed to be jolting my hypothalamus, not petting it.
ROBERT CHASE: We don't want to overload it.
GREG HOUSE: As long as I'm risking my life, I might as well be watching a talkie.
[Wilson nods to Chase.]
JAMES WILSON: Increasing from three to five volts. Sending impulse.
[He turns the dial and hits the button. House grimaces as he gets shocked.]
[We're back in his subconscious. House is drunk. The bartender snatches away his motorcycle keys.]
BARTENDER: You're not getting them back.
[Annoyed, House sighs. He picks up his cell phone and opens it. His battery's dead. Tossing it aside on the counter, he calls the bartender.]
GREG HOUSE: Hey! You take my keys, you gotta give me a phone call.
[The bartender agrees sulkily and hands him a cordless receiver. House dials a number and puts the receiver to his ear.]
JAMES WILSON: Who are you calling?
[House looks to his right and sees Wilson (in scrubs) standing near the jukebox. House looks at the number he's dialed.]
GREG HOUSE: Dial-A-Wilson.
JAMES WILSON: I was on call.
[In the Procedure Room, Wilson understands.]
JAMES WILSON: Amber was home.
GREG HOUSE: I told her to find you. Have you pick me up.
[Back in House's subconscious, the bar door opens as House waits at the counter. Amber enters, looks around and sees House. Not really enthused, she walks over to him and stands at his side. He looks at her.]
GREG HOUSE: [rolls his eyes] I said to find Wilson.
AMBER VOLAKIS: He's working. And I'm willing to suffer this indignity on his behalf.
JAMES WILSON: [vo] Does she seem sick?
[House looks at her.]
GREG HOUSE: [shakes her head] Not yet.
AMBER VOLAKIS: C'mon. Time to go.
GREG HOUSE: Whoa. [calls the bartender] Need another round! And a drink for... what passes for a lady around here? [to Amber] What's your poison?
AMBER VOLAKIS: Nothing. [to the bartender] We're leaving.
GREG HOUSE: [imitating her] We're leaving, leaving, leaving, leaving... [remembers] Cosmos. I remember Wilson buying cranberry juice. [to the bartender] I'll have another. And she'll have a Cosmopolitan.
AMBER VOLAKIS: The obstinate drunk thing is not flattering. C'mon. You called for a ride.
[The bartender puts their drinks on the counter.]
GREG HOUSE: Drink your drink, or I'll drink 'em both.
AMBER VOLAKIS: One. [picks up her Cosmo] And you leave voluntarily.
[House clinks his glass to hers. They both down their drinks, House finishing first.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: Let's go.
GREG HOUSE: [to the bartender] Hey! We need another Cosmo here.
[Amber sneezes. House notices it.]
[In the Procedure Room, House reports it.]
GREG HOUSE: She sneezed.
[In his subconscious, Wilson stands near the jukebox.]
JAMES WILSON: What color is it?
[The bartender hands her a napkin.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: Thanks.
[Turning away from him, she wipes her nose. House watches her remove the napkin from her nose and sees the sputum.]
GREG HOUSE: Looks like snot. Seems like a cold.
JAMES WILSON: Nothing else?
[In the Procedure Room.]
GREG HOUSE: [softly] No.
[Subconscious. House staggers up (without his cane) and starts to walk to the door.]
JAMES WILSON: Where are you going?
GREG HOUSE: Think I paid?
AMBER VOLAKIS: House, what are you doing? You can barely walk.
[Amber runs to him and puts his arm around her neck, propping him up.]
GREG HOUSE: Go home. I'll take the bus.
BARTENDER: Hey, someone's gotta pay for this.
[House walks outside. Amber runs to the bartender to foot House's bill.]
[House gets on the bus and falls into the seat. He lets out a belch, which the other commuters don't find appealing.]
GREG HOUSE: Hi.
[He looks outside. Amber walks up to him, holding his cane.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: You forgot something.
[He takes it from her. She sits in the seat opposite him.]
GREG HOUSE: You don't give up, do you?
AMBER VOLAKIS: Yeah, I'm an idiot that way.
GREG HOUSE: You doing this for me or for Wilson?
AMBER VOLAKIS: For Wilson.
GREG HOUSE: [jerks a nod] Well, then it's even more impressive. [holds out an imaginary glass] Salut.
[She sneezes again.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: Ugh, damn, do you have a Kleenex?
GREG HOUSE: I got a sleeve. I got two, actually.
AMBER VOLAKIS: I need more than that. I'm getting that nasty flu.
[House turns to look at her seriously. Wilson (in scrubs) sits in the back seat.]
JAMES WILSON: Is that it? The flu? Is there any rare complication?
GREG HOUSE: [shakes his head] No. It would explain the rash, but nothing else. [looks downward] Unless...
JAMES WILSON: What?
[Wide-eyed, House sees Amber takes a bottle of pills out of her bag and tap out a few into her palm.]
GREG HOUSE: [softly] Don't do it.
[She swallows the palmful of pills. House looks desolate. Wilson looks at House questioningly.]
GREG HOUSE: It wasn't the flu. It's what she did for it. She has amantadine poisoning.
JAMES WILSON: The crash destroyed her kidneys. Her body couldn't filter the drugs. She ODs on amantadine. Explains the heart, the liver. [cheering up] We just need to start her on dialysis and flush the drugs out.
[House, on the other hand, doesn't look happy at all.]
JAMES WILSON: What? What's wrong?
GREG HOUSE: Amantadine binds with proteins. Dialysis can't clear it out of the blood.
[Wilson looks in horror at House.]
GREG HOUSE: There's nothing we can do.
[He looks at Amber, who's blissfully unaware that she's in mortal danger.]
GREG HOUSE: [to Wilson, morosely] I'm so sorry.
[Shattered, Wilson looks at Amber.]
JAMES WILSON: Amber.
[In the Procedure Room, a tear trickles down House's cheek.]
[In his subconscious, he looks at Amber.]
GREG HOUSE: [eyes growing wide] Amber.
[She looks at him, just as the bright light collides into them. House reacts in shock.]
[In the Procedure Room, House is seizing. His hands flail out, knocking a machine and an IV drip to the ground.]
ROBERT CHASE: Seizing. Wilson, I need help here!
[Chase and Wilson attend to House.]
[Diagnostics Office. Day. Foreman speaks to the shocked Fellows.]
ERIC FOREMAN: House suffered a complex partial seizure. The violent shaking widened his skull fracture, causing a brain bleed.
[PPTH, House's Room. Day. Top-down view. House lies comatose on the bed, hooked up to several monitors.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [vo] We won't know if there's any cognitive impairment until he's out of the coma.
[PPTH ICU. Day. Top-down view. While the surgical team watches, Chase shocks Amber. No response. He orders a higher voltage and tries again. Still no response.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [vo] He was right about the amantadine. Amber's body couldn't filter it out. That's what caused her heart to beat too fast for too long.
[In the Observation Deck, Wilson tearfully watches as Chase tries again, but to no avail.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [vo] It caused irreparable structural damage. Didn't matter if they shocked her or froze her.
[Chase looks up to Wilson, his expression saying it all.]
ERIC FOREMAN: [vo] Her heart was dead once it stopped in that ambulance.
[Diagnostics Office. Day.]
LAWRENCE KUTNER: [sadly] What about a new heart? Transplant?
ERIC FOREMAN: [quietly] All of her organs are damaged. She can't qualify.
["Thirteen" closes her eyes.]
ERIC FOREMAN: There's nothing we can do. Nothing we could have done.
[He drops his head.]
[Wilson's Office. Evening. Wilson looks out at the gloomy, rainy sky, his eyes glistening. Cuddy enters.]
JAMES WILSON: [choking] We should call time of death.
LISA CUDDY: Technically, she's still alive. Could probably survive a few more hours on bypass. We could wean her off anesthesia, wake her up, give you a chance to...
JAMES WILSON: It would be cruel. Don't... [can't finish]
LISA CUDDY: Wake Amber up. See her again. Tell her what she means to you.
JAMES WILSON: Wake her up to tell her that she's... that she's...
[He breaks down and covers his face as he weeps. Cuddy gives him an encouraging hug. He continues to sob.]
LISA CUDDY: You are waking her up so that you can both say good-bye to each other. She would want it.
[Aerial view of PPTH. Evening.]
[PPTH ICU. Evening. Chase takes Amber off the anesthesia, as Wilson stands at her bedside. Finished, Chase walks up to Wilson and nods sympathetically. Patting him on the shoulder, he leaves. Wilson wipes away his tears and walks close to Amber. He waits for her to wake up. Slowly, she opens her eyes. He leans over to her and strokes her hair. She smiles weakly at him.]
JAMES WILSON: [gently] Hey.
AMBER VOLAKIS: [softly] Hey.
[He smiles lovingly at her.]
JAMES WILSON: You're in the hospital.
[She notices the bypass machines nearby.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: I'm on bypass.
JAMES WILSON: Yeah. Do you remember what happened?
AMBER VOLAKIS: Got on the bus.
[As the realization hits her, she breaks down.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: [choking] I shouldn't have gotten on the bus.
JAMES WILSON: No. No, it's not your fault. It's not your fault.
AMBER VOLAKIS: How bad?
JAMES WILSON: [deep breath] You had tachycardia. It's complicated by complete renal failure. The tachycardia degenerated into V-fib... followed by hepatic failure.
[She understands. Wide-eyed, she slowly shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: The flu pills?
JAMES WILSON: [nods, fighting tears] Yeah.
AMBER VOLAKIS: [sobs] I'm dead.
JAMES WILSON: [unable to ] I love you.
AMBER VOLAKIS: [barely audible as she cries] I love you too.
[Wilson presses his forehead against hers as they both weep softly.]
[Diagnostics Office. Evening. The Fellows and Foreman mope in the office.]
"THIRTEEN": We should say good-bye.
CHRIS TAUB: She didn't even like us.
LAWRENCE KUTNER: We liked her.
CHRIS TAUB: Did we?
ERIC FOREMAN: We do now.
CHRIS TAUB: [shrugs] What do we say?
LAWRENCE KUTNER: We don't need to say anything.
[They all look at each other.]
CUE MUSIC: "Re: Stacks" — Bon Iver
[PPTH ICU. Evening. As Wilson sits depressed at Amber's bedside, Kutner comes up behind him, patting him on the shoulder as he walks in front of Amber's bed. Amber looks at him. Kutner smiles awkwardly at Amber and turns his head away.]
# This my excavation and to... #
[Fade to Taub standing at her left side. He kisses his fingers and places them on her head.]
[Fade to Foreman standing at Amber's right side. He looks sadly at Wilson and then at Amber.]
# ... day is kumran #
[Fade to "Thirteen" coming over to Amber's side and giving her a loving hug. Amber, though too weak to respond, appreciates the gesture.]
[Aerial View of PPTH. Evening.]
# Everything that happens #
[PPTH ICU. Evening. Wilson lies next to Amber in her bed, holding her tightly.]
# Is from now on #
# This is pouring rain #
# This is paralyzed... #
AMBER VOLAKIS: [softly] I'm tired.
[Grief-stricken, Wilson nods.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: I think it's time to go to sleep.
[Wilson shuts his eyes tight in sorrow.]
JAMES WILSON: Just a little longer.
AMBER VOLAKIS: We are always gonna want just a little longer.
JAMES WILSON: I don't think I can do it. [sobs]
AMBER VOLAKIS: It's okay.
JAMES WILSON: It's not okay. Why is it okay with you? Why aren't you angry?
AMBER VOLAKIS: [shakes her head] That's... not... the last feeling I want to experience.
# The sound of the unlocking #
# And the lift away #
# Your love will be safe with me... #
[Wilson kisses her tenderly. He looks at her. Then, with an anguished sigh, he turns around and presses the OFF keys on the bypass machines. Quickly, he turns back to her. She looks at him lovingly and starts to stiffen. He watches grief-stricken as she lets out a faint sigh and her eyes close. He starts to sob as he touches her lifeless face.]
[House's Room. Evening. Top-down view. Taub and Cuddy hover over a comatose House.]
CUE MUSIC: "Light for the Deadvine" - People in Planes
LISA CUDDY: [hands Taub a clipboard] I think he's stable.
CHRIS TAUB: Still non-responsive.
[The camera zooms slowly towards House's face, as Cuddy and Taub speak. The camera stops at the eyes.]
[House's Subconscious/Bus to Afterlife. Day. A bright white light illuminates the bus. House's eyes open suddenly. He looks around confused, sitting in a bus seat, still in his hospital gown. He looks to his right and sees Amber sitting beside him, smiling. She's wearing a pink pantsuit. She's looking away from him, her face radiant, devoid of all her earthly wounds.]
GREG HOUSE: You're dead.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Everybody dies.
GREG HOUSE: Am I dead?
[She turns her head slowly to look at him. He waits expectantly. Shrugging, he turns away again.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: Not yet.
GREG HOUSE: Should be.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Why?
GREG HOUSE: Because life shouldn't be random. Because lonely, misanthropic drug addicts should die in bus crashes, and young do-gooders in love, who get dragged out of their apartment in the middle of the night, should walk away clean.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Self-pity isn't like you.
GREG HOUSE: [shrugs] No, well, I'm branching out from self-loathing and self-destruction. [beat] Wilson is gonna hate me.
AMBER VOLAKIS: [playfully] You kind of deserve it.
[House looks at her.]
GREG HOUSE: He's my best friend.
AMBER VOLAKIS: I know.
[Camera focuses on their feet. They're both barefoot. She crosses her feet.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: [leans close to House, whispers] What now?
GREG HOUSE: I could stay here with you.
[She shakes her head.]
AMBER VOLAKIS: [softly] Get off the bus.
[House ponders for a second and shakes his head.]
GREG HOUSE: I can't.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Why not?
GREG HOUSE: Because... [beat, smirks sadly] because it doesn't hurt here. I let it... I don't wanna be in pain. I don't wanna be miserable. And I don't want him to hate me.
AMBER VOLAKIS: Well, you can't always get what you want.
CUE MUSIC: "Passing Afternoon" - Iron and Wine
[On hearing the line from the "poet Jagger", House looks at her. He gets up and starts to walk away from her, towards the bus door. She remains seated.]
# There are times that walk from you #
# Like some passing afternoon #
[Amber watches calmly as he walks off. She smiles as the white light engulfs her.]
# Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon #
[House's Room. Night. House's eyes open slowly.]
# And she chose a yard to burn #
# But the ground remembers her #
# Wooden spoons, her children stir #
[The music fades as Cuddy leans over House, her concern writ all over her face.]
LISA CUDDY: Hey, I'm here. Blink if you can hear me.
[House blinks absent-mindedly.]
# There are things that drift away #
[Cuddy sighs deeply in relief. House inhales, about to say something.]
LISA CUDDY: No, shh, don't try to talk. Just rest.
[House closes his eyes.]
[PPTH Laboratory. Night. "Thirteen" sits alone. Trying to stay emotionless, she presses a button on the printer. A hardcopy comes out.]
# Autumn blew the quilt right off #
# The perfect bed she made #
[The hardcopy shows in red: HUNTINGTON'S:______POS*. Angrily, she crumples up the paper. Turning off the light, she prepares to leave.]
# And she's chosen to believe #
[Taub's Home. Night. Taub stands near his bed, where his wife sleeps. He sets down his briefcase, crawls onto the bed and hugs his wife tightly.]
# In the hymns her mother sings #
# Sunday pulls its children #
# From their piles of fallen leaves #
[Kutner's Apartment. Night. Kutner watches TV, eating cereal. It's like another day in the office for him.]
# There are sailing ships that pass #
# All our bodies in the grass #
[Bar. Night. Foreman sits sadly at a table. Chase comes up (in street clothes) and claps him on the shoulder. Cameron's with him. Cheering up, Foreman moves over in the seat, so Chase and Cameron can sit.]
# Springtime calls our children #
# Till she lets them go at last #
# And she's chosen where to be #
[House's Room. Night. Wilson stands at the door, looking somber, watching House as he sleeps. Cuddy sleeps, huddled on an armchair nearby.]
# Though she's lost her wedding ring #
# Somewhere near her misplaced jar #
[House wakes up and sees Wilson. House looks at him hopefully. Wilson just seems relieved House is awake, but that's all.]
# Of bougainvillea seeds #
# There are things we can't recall #
# Blind as night that finds us all #
[He turns and walks slowly away, as House watches silently.]
[Wilson and Amber's Apartment. Night. Wilson walks weakly inside.]
# Winter tucks her children in #
# Her fragile china-dolls #
# But she'll mend his tattered clothes #
[He falls on the bed and lies on his side.]
# And they'll kiss as if they know #
[He notices a note under Amber's pillow. He takes it out.]
# A baby sleeps in all our bones #
# So scared to be alo-o-one #
[Unfolding it, he reads it. It says, "Sorry I'm not here. Went to pick up House.", a heart sign and "A". Wilson looks at Amber's letter with growing emotion. He folds it back and grips it between his palms. He presses it to his chest in sorrow.]
[House's Room. Night. Cuddy lies asleep on the armchair. Her arm is extended out, her hand clasping House's hand. House lies in bed, awake, staring off into the distance.]
FADE TO BLACK.