[In the "Vegetable Ward"; the camera pans over the sleeping or comatose or vegetative patients, some with respirators attached, and stops at the last bed, which belongs to Gabe, a guy who's in a vegetative state. Oh, and House is there, watching his little TV, and having lunch. Thankfully, the lunch is placed on an empty bed (not on another helpless patient). House is watching "Blind Date". Wilson enters. House looks up from his TV. Wilson does not look pleased at House. Hmm, wonder why?]

WILSON: What're you doing down here? Thought you usually have lunch with Coma Guy.

HOUSE: [Mouth full, wiping his hands.] This is Vegetative-state Guy. Better company. [To Gabe.] Hey, hey, tell him about those Sherpa's you dropped acid with in St. Patrick's Cathedral.

WILSON: [Upset, loud.] You stole my prescription pad and you forged my name!

HOUSE: [b*at, then serious.] What'd you tell the cop?

WILSON: I lied! He'd have put you away for ten years; after they took your license to practice medicine.

HOUSE: [Shrugs.] So, everything's good then.

WILSON: [Gesturing wildly.] I lied! To the cops!

HOUSE: There is no case unless they can prove that either I got the drugs illegally or I sold them illegally. I didn't do the second, you lied about the first. Game over.

WILSON: Yeah, Tritter's just playing. He's gonna see how clever you are and then just walk away.

HOUSE: Important thing is you keep prescribing the same amount of drugs to me. Or it'll look suspicious.

WILSON: Here's another way to look at it. Having forced me to lie to the police, your first concern is securing your "drug-connection"!

[The door opens; a 22-year-old guy, Kyle, walks in, backpack slung over his shoulder. He doesn't seem surprised to see House there.]

KYLE: Joining my father for lunch. I should have called ahead for a table.

WILSON: Dr. House was just--

KYLE: Enjoying a Reuben. It's okay. After ten years, anything that'll get doctors in the same room is...

[While Kyle speaks, House starts putting the room light on and off in quick succession. Wilson and Kyle seem confused.]

WILSON: What're you doing?

HOUSE: Nothing. What're you doing?

[Wilson looks at Kyle, who looks equally bewildered. House picks up a packet of Lays.]

HOUSE: Chips?

[He tosses it at Kyle, who doesn't move, causing the packet to h*t him in the face. Wilson looks a bit interested.]

HOUSE: Wanna see something really cool?

[Kyle doesn't answer. House gets up, picking up his cane. And just like that, he DISAPPEARS! Poof, into thin air. Kyle looks around for House, in fear. House appears directly in front of him, just as suddenly as he disappeared, giving Kyle a start.]

HOUSE: I saw you leaving last Tuesday; practically tripped over two guys on your way out. But you had no problem opening doors. It's called Akinetopsia. You can't see things when they move. And since you haven't been h*t by a bus, I assume it's intermittent. Probably accompanied by seizures, which made me think that I can set one off by flashing a...

[As if on cue, Kyle crumples to the floor and starts seizing violently. House looks at Wilson, who hurriedly tries to s*ab Kyle.]

HOUSE: God, I love this family!

[He glances at the comatose Gabe and then back at Kyle.]

HARD CUT TO:

[Kyle's room. Cameron moves her finger slowly in front of Kyle's eyes. Kyle follows the finger with his eyes. Chase is also present in the room.]

KYLE: [Smiling.] I can see fine now.

[Cameron smiles back and picks up a clipboard.]

KYLE: I've had seizures before. Most of the time, they're small. Doctors ran me through all the tests, couldn't find anything.

CAMERON: Any history of epilepsy in your family?

KYLE: The only things I know that run in my family are they have a lot of chutzpah and the ability to sleep for ten years. [He chuckles.] Although I'm not really an expert; Dad never really liked my mother's side of the family and, after she died and he came here, I was raised by a guardian. Wouldn't even know how to get in touch with him.

CHASE: How about your father's side of the family? Any relatives we could speak with?

[Chase starts putting a strap on Kyle's arm.]

KYLE: My father was an only child and my grandparents are d*ad.

CAMERON: Well, what did you put down as the person the hospital should contact in an emergency?

KYLE: [Dismissively.] I-I left it blank.

CAMERON: There's gotta be someone, a friend...

KYLE: Plenty of friends, just... no one that would care if I was here.

[Chase pats down on Kyle's right arm, looking for a vein.]

KYLE: [To Chase.] Say, do you mind passing me my backpack?

[Chase obliges, but as he picks up the backpack, the unmistakable sound of bottles hitting each other is heard. Chase and Cameron look at each other and then at Kyle. Kyle looks away, caught. Chase puts the backpack on the bed and opens it. He pulls out a wine bottle and gives Kyle an "Are you kidding me?" look.]

KYLE: [Sheepishly.] Hair of the dog.

[The Ducklings obviously don't buy it.]

CUT TO:

[Diagnostics office. House is going through a couple of papers, while the Ducklings report.]

CAMERON: Could be infection.

FOREMAN: Or brain tumor.

CAMERON: Says he had a CT.

CHASE: It's probably the simplest explanation. Trauma.

CAMERON: He didn't report any injuries.

CHASE: He didn't report being an alcoholic either. Drinking equals falling down equals trauma equals...

HOUSE: Maybe it's inherited.

FOREMAN: How did you jump to genetics? [Coming over to look at the papers.] From his EEG? All you got are some vaguely epileptic-formed waves.

HOUSE: It's not his EEG. It's his father's. When it comes to cortical seizures, like father, like son.

[He hands Foreman the EEG.]

FOREMAN: Small seizures aren't unheard of in a patient in a vegetative state.

HOUSE: Similarities are interesting though.

CHASE: What caused the vegetative state?

HOUSE: His house b*rned down; went back in to get his wife. Firefighters found him unconscious three feet from the bedroom, asphyxiated.

FOREMAN: Not an inherited condition.

HOUSE: Test his DNA. Start with adrenomyeloneuropathy.

[The Ducklings start to leave.]

HOUSE: [Over his shoulder.] Check out the home.

[They leave and he goes over the EEGs again.]

CUT TO:

[PPTH Lab. Cameron and Foreman are conducting the tests. Chase (in street clothes) enters, obviously fulfilling this week's quota of HOBE (House-Ordered Breaking and Entering).]

CHASE: He has a single bed.

FOREMAN: [Snorts.] They still make single beds?

CHASE: Could mean he just doesn't have sex, though there were condoms in the apartment.

FOREMAN: House asked you to check out the home for toxins.

CHASE: No mold, no leaks, no pets.

[He moves out of the way as House enters.]

CAMERON: MRI and LP are both inconclusive. Infection's still possible. Tumor's less likely than...

HOUSE: DNA?

FOREMAN: Adrenomyeloneuropathy test was negative.

HOUSE: DNA test again. Try Unverricht-Lundborg and late-onset Lafora's.

[Foreman throws his head back in exasperation. House turns to leave.]

CHASE: [Protesting.] Genetic tests take forever. You can't just keep testing him for every inherited condition you think it might be.

HOUSE: Well, not me. I'll be leaving early. But you guys can.

[The Ducklings exchange a few glances and glare at House, as he leaves.]

CUT TO:

[Kyle's room. Cameron's taking hair samples from Kyle as Foreman speaks to him.]

FOREMAN: You said no one's been sick, but what about delivery people, repair guy?

KYLE: I wouldn't know. I work from home. I haven't been to the office in over a month.

CAMERON: Visitors?

KYLE: Haven't had any.

[Cameron and Foreman exchange a look.]

KYLE: Only person I've seen in the last week was the pizza delivery guy and he looked pretty healthy.

CAMERON: There's gotta be someone you're close to.

KYLE: Actually, the person I see most often is my father. He's asleep so he can't stop me.

[Kyle starts shifting about, uncomfortably.]

FOREMAN: What is it?

KYLE: Just feeling a little nauseous.

[Cameron opens his gown a bit, exposing his chest and stomach. There's some bruising on the stomach. She puts her hand on the bruise.]

CAMERON: I think his liver's failing.

KYLE: [Scared.] God; does-does that mean that I'm...

[Cameron goes to get something, when Kyle suddenly starts to cough out blood. Foreman runs over to his side, to call a code.]

FOREMAN: Need a central IV! Two units of packed red blood cells, type O-negative!

HARD CUT TO:

[Aerial sh*t of PPTH. Day.]

CUT TO:

[Diagnostics office. Chase and Cameron report to House.]

CAMERON: He's unconscious and heading for a coma. He's at a four on the RLAS scale.

[House, for once, doesn't seem to know what could be wrong with a patient.]

HOUSE: Stop all treatment.

CHASE: To see if this is a reaction to our meds?

HOUSE: Well, they obviously aren't helping. Given the fact that he's an alcoholic, there's a good chance his liver wasn't so hot when he came in. Anti-seizure drugs, they just pushed him over the edge.

[Foreman enters.]

CAMERON: We take him off those meds, what do we put him on?

HOUSE: I was hoping you'd know.

FOREMAN: May be academic, I just started him on dialysis.

CHASE: Kidney and liver failure; not too many people come back from that.

CAMERON: Trauma's out of the picture. Could still be an infection.

FOREMAN: Or neurological or...

HOUSE: Genetic.

[The Ducklings look at him, incredulously.]

HOUSE: We need a better history.

[He limps out quickly.]

[PPTH dispensary. House is behind the counter, looking for a particular drug. The pharmacist sits idly by, as the Ducklings stand in front of the counter.]

[Beta Comment: Because it is a good idea, when under investigation for drug use and drug tr*ffick with intent, to start rifling through the hospital dispensary.]

CHASE: Did you miss the part where the patient lost consciousness?

[House finds what he's looking for and tosses the vial, from behind his back, to Foreman, who catches it.]

FOREMAN: L-dopa?!

CAMERON: You're not waking Kyle. You're waking his father.

HOUSE: I commend your observational skills.

[Holding two other vials, he starts to limp away. The Ducklings follow him.]

CHASE: You have no reason to think any manner of drugs will wake a man from a coma.

HOUSE: [Correcting.] Vegetative state. Much easier. This guy's no Terri Schiavo, his brain's all there, he moves around, muscles have barely atrophied, just waiting for a fairy-tale kiss. After I do that, stick a needle in him.

[Back in the "Vegetable Ward", near Gabe's bed, House fills a syringe from one of the vials. The Ducklings watch, protesting.]

FOREMAN: The amount of amphetamines alone will be dangerous. Besides whatever the hell else you got in there.

[House picks up another vial and starts to fill it into the syringe.]

HOUSE: There are reports out of South Africa about a pill that'd temporarily revive someone in a vegetative state. We've all seen Awakenings. It made me cry. I wanna cry.

[House injects the syringe into Gabe's IV line. The door opens.]

CUDDY: [Voice-only, pissed off.] Put the syringe down.

[They turn around to see Cuddy, standing there.]

HOUSE: [Chinese accent.] I can out draw you, mysterious stranger.

CUDDY: [Mad as heck.] We don't experiment on helpless patients!

HOUSE: Be reasonable. There's no way this is gonna work.

CUDDY: Even if you woke him, it would only be for a few hours! A day! Two at the most! You're risking his life!

HOUSE: I'm risking getting sued. That's the only objection here.

CUDDY: You'll be torturing him and his family.

HOUSE: Good news for Legal. Only family he's got is upstairs dying.

[Cuddy rushes to take the syringe away, but House depresses the syringe's plunger, sending the cocktail into Gabe's bloodstream.]

HOUSE: Whooaaaaaii!

[House yanks out the needle and stands back, satisfied. Cuddy looks absolutely stunned. They look at Gabe. No movement. The Ducklings watch with trepidation.]

CUDDY: [Voice trembling. Still mad.] I want this patient monitored for the next twenty-four hours. [Pointedly at House.] I want someone with him at all times, to make sure you didn't k*ll him! I want your ass in my office--

[She's interrupted by a grunt coming from a slowly awakening Gabe. The Ducklings are surprised. House is surprised. Pretty much everyone except the audience is surprised.]

GABE: [As if he's only been sleeping a couple of hours.] God. I'm starving.

[He sits up.]

GABE: I could really go for a steak.

[He looks around expectantly. House looks at him, smiling victoriously.]

[Still in the "Vegetable Ward". Cuddy is examining Gabe, as House looks on.]

CUDDY: Do you know your name? Know where you are?

GABE: [Groggily.] Gabriel Wasniak. I don't know the name of this hospital.

CUDDY: How much are three and five?

GABE: [Smiling.] Eight. Also known as half of sixteen, quarter of thirty-two, two to the third power.

[Beta Comment: I had a paramedic ask me something similar after getting knocked out during a sporting event, my response was "numbers".]

[Cuddy looks at House, who is beaming.]

HOUSE: [Smiling.] Coolest thing ever. Any history of seizure in your family?

GABE: No.

HOUSE: Liver disease?

GABE: No. [To Cuddy.] How long have I been here? Got the feeling it's uh, been a long time.

HOUSE: Interesting. Your internal clock kept ticking. How deep does that awareness go? Pick up scraps of conversations, do you have a vague sense that the hospital administrator dresses like a trollop?

[Cuddy doesn't find that last question too flattering.]

HOUSE: Or that the new Star Wars movies were a disappointment?

GABE: [Pensive.] I know my wife is d*ad. I don't know how long it's been.

[He looks questioningly at Cuddy.]

CUDDY: [Empathically.] Ten years. [b*at.] What's the last thing you remember?

GABE: The f*re. My wife was in the bedroom. She had taken a sleeping pill. I got Kyle out, went back in for her. I knew I didn't make it.

CUDDY: Sorry.

HOUSE: How 'bout your wife's side of the family? Any history of seizures there?

CUDDY: Your son, Kyle, is a patient here. I'm afraid his condition is serious. He may be dying.

[Gabe looks at Cuddy. Finally, he inhales sharply.]

GABE: No seizure issues on my wife's side either. What about that steak? Nobody ever answered me.

[PPTH lobby. House gets off the elevator. In the foreground, Wilson is signing a clipboard, held by a nurse. They walk together.]

WILSON: Ahh! Rumor in the cafeteria was Caustic Guy was waking up Coma Guy.

HOUSE: Technically, Vegetative State Guy was woken by... yeah, Caustic Guy.

WILSON: So, what happened?

HOUSE: Gotta get him a steak, before I can ask him anymore questions.

WILSON: He doesn't wanna talk about his son?

HOUSE: Didn't seem to emotionally register that his son is sick.

WILSON: Brain issue? He was asphyxiated. Spent ten years as asparagus. Who knows what damage is in there?

HOUSE: It's possible. 'Course always the simple explanation. Maybe he just doesn't like his son.

WILSON: Only in your world would that be simple.

HOUSE: The delusion that fathering a child installs a permanent geyser of unconditional love--

WILSON: Maybe your father's feelings were conditional, not everyone's--

HOUSE: Yes. Well, of course. That would play into your romantic vision of human...

[Wilson stops walking. House turns around, after a few steps, to look at Wilson.]

WILSON: Terms you would understand. We have an evolutionary incentive to sacrifice for our offspring, our tribe, our friends. Keep them safe.

HOUSE: [Agrees, but...] Except for all the people who don't. Everything is conditional. You just can't always anticipate the conditions.

[He limps away. Wilson gives up and leaves.]

[PPTH corridors. Cameron walks down the corridor. She turns at a corner and is startled with a police badge is flashed in her face. Guess who's holding it - okay, it's Michael Tritter!]

TRITTER: Mind if we talk for a few minutes?

CUT TO:

[PPTH office. Tritter "interrogates" a harried-looking Cameron.]

TRITTER: How many pills would you say Dr. House takes a day?

CAMERON: I'm uncomfortable saying a number.

TRITTER: [He shrugs.] Try.

CAMERON: Six.

TRITTER: A day?

[Cameron nods.]

TRITTER: Has he ever had you, write prescriptions for him?

CAMERON: No. What is it you want me to say? That he takes too many pills and is a danger to the hospital. Or he takes too few because he's selling them on the side. Either way, it's ridiculous.

TRITTER: I meant the former.

CAMERON: You're wrong.

TRITTER: Can I ask what Dr. House has done to deserve your loyalty? He's not known as a great boss. He's not even much of a friend. Look how he left Dr. Wilson holding the bag.

[This is news to Cameron. Tritter sees this.]

TRITTER: [Smiling.] It's odd. You don't know about that. You defend him and he won't even tell you what's happening in his life.

[Cameron's beeper goes off. She gets it.]

[Kyle's room. Cameron comes running in. Kyle appears normal (for the moment). Chase and Foreman are sitting nearby, casually.]

CAMERON: I was paged.

CHASE: Saw you with the cop. What'd he want?

[Cameron closes the door.]

CAMERON: How many pills does House take? Did I ever write him a prescription? That sort of stuff. I told him six.

FOREMAN: [Amused.] A day or in a mouthful?

CAMERON: I was just hoping you guys would stay consistent.

CHASE: He wants to talk to us too?

CAMERON: You're next.

CHASE: [Unsettled.] We've gotta tell House what's going on.

CAMERON: Tritter says "no".

FOREMAN: Then "no" it is. Cops have a thousand ways to make life difficult for you.

[House slides open the door and pokes his head inside, they immediately look guilty and go silent.]

HOUSE: Quick! What's the kid's status? Gotta get back to our sleeper before he goes looking for the Orgasmatron.

[Beta Comment: House is a Woody Allen fan! That makes me smile.]

[The Ducklings remain silent.]

HOUSE: See, if that were rhetorical, it would mean I could just turn around and leave now, which I'm not doing. From which you should deduce...

FOREMAN: Stopped all drugs except the antibiotics. His liver's just managing to hang in there.

CHASE: He's still sliding into coma.

[House looks grimly at the sleeping Kyle.]

[Once again in the "Vegetable Ward". Gabe is looking at himself in a small mirror, seeing how old he's become, tugging at his double chin.

He's wearing street clothes. House enters, carrying a tray with food on it.]

GABE: Your barber sucks.

[He stands up and shows House how much weight he's lost.]

GABE: "Coma diet". I could make a fortune.

HOUSE: "Vegetative State Diet". Who gave you your clothes?

GABE: Dr. Cuddy. I guess I'll need all new ones anyway. Everything went in the f*re.

HOUSE: Don't worry about it. We use recyclable clothes now. Wear them once, then eat them. Your son's measles vaccination, d'you remember if he had it and what type it was?

GABE: You're a piece of work, you know that?

[House sighs.]

GABE: You weren't gonna tell me, were ya? I don't need new clothes. Dr. Cuddy says my body will adjust to the drugs, and I'll be a vegetable again by tomorrow; if I'm really lucky, the day after.

HOUSE: Yeah.

GABE: If I got a day to live, I'm not gonna spend it in the hospital room, being grilled.

[He picks up his coat and starts to leave.]

HOUSE: C'mon, where you gonna go? House b*rned down, your wife's d*ad. Business is sold off. The only thing you have left is down the hall, heading for a liver biopsy.

GABE: Used to be this little um, hole in the wall, run by a guy named Giancarlo. Made the best hoagies in the world. Real Italian rolls. Prosciutto, provolone, [He smacks his lips.] Mmm. How far is Atlantic City from here?

HOUSE: You have one day to live and you want a sandwich.

GABE: People on death row get a last meal.

HOUSE: State provides it. Who's providing for you? You got a car? Money?

GABE: [Smiling.] You're negotiating with me.

[House smiles back.]

[PPTH corridor. Wilson withdraws money from the ATM installed there. House walks up, carrying his backpack.]

HOUSE: Take out another hundred, for me. And I need your car.

WILSON: I'm not doing you any favors.

HOUSE: You'll get it back tomorrow. Two days max. Road yrip.

[Wilson looks at House and relents.]

[PPTH parking lot. Gabe and House walk up to Wilson's car. Wilson is leaning on his car.]

WILSON: This is like trying to control the weather, but I'd prefer if you didn't eat in the car. Just had it detailed.

[He hands House his keys. Gabe opens the driver's side door.]

GABE: I drive!

WILSON: Oh, the hell he does!

HOUSE: Sure!

WILSON: Aside from the fact, he just woke up from a vegetative state; the guy doesn't have a license.

HOUSE: How 'bout this? Cops stop us, we lie. You know how to do that. Chips!

[He tosses the car keys across the roof of the car to Gabe, who catches it perfectly. Gabe gets in the driver's seat.]

HOUSE: All the drugs pumping through his system right now, his reflexes are better than Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s.

GABE: [From inside the car, holding an Ipod.] What's this? It says "Ipp-odd".

WILSON: I'm coming.

[He gets in the back, while House gets in the front passenger's seat. Gabe starts up the car and screeches out of the parking lot.]

HOUSE: [V.O.] So, let's talk about toxic exposure.

[Convenience Store. Outside, Wilson puts his white lab coat in the car trunk. Gabe and House are inside. Gabe is looking at candy that existed 10 years ago, but has undergone some changes. Namely M&M's.]

GABE: What was wrong with the old colors? I trusted brown. Do the purple ones have chocolate inside?

HOUSE: [Limping up.] Raspberry cocaine. This house that b*rned down. Where was it?

GABE: Morristown, New Jersey. Listen, I really need to know about the candy, because I'm allergic to berries.

HOUSE: You didn't mention that.

GABE: Is it significant?

HOUSE: No. So, where else did you live? List everywhere, including vacations. Start with when your wife got pregnant.

GABE: We lived in Jersey. Then we moved to Jersey; from there, Jersey. What, are you waiting to hear about the little cottage in the Amazon, with the mosquitoes and the lead paint all over the walls?

HOUSE: [Nodding.] Yes.

GABE: You know what? I didn't let you come along so you could suck all the fun out of my one day of life.

HOUSE: Well, you're out of luck, 'cause that's totally why I'm here.

[Gabe turns around and looks at House.]

GABE: Okay. Rule change.

HOUSE: [Purses his lips.] Person with the money makes the rules. Or in this case, person who's friend's the person with the money, makes the rules.

GABE: Well, you want answers more than I want money. Right, so, here's the game. Ask whatever you want. But for every question I answer, you have to answer one first.

HOUSE: Why would you care about anything I have to say?

GABE: The day before I died, I was a successful man. I had a factory with over two hundred employees. People listened when I talked. I liked power. Now, the only power I have left is the power to annoy you.

[With a smug smile, he turns and walks off. House smiles wryly.]

[Aerial sh*t of PPTH. Day.]

[Kyle's room. Kyle is unconscious. The Ducklings are there.]

CAMERON: Took Wilson's assistant for coffee.

FOREMAN: Why?

CAMERON: Something Tritter said. She told me the police think that House stole Wilson's prescription pad and forged his name.

FOREMAN: You believe it?

CAMERON: Do you?

FOREMAN: Why, absolutely. I do. I'm just checking how naﶥ you are.

CAMERON: He's not gonna steal his best friend's pad, jeopardize his career.

FOREMAN: Until his best friend says "no" to him. House is a junkie. Junkies do whatever they have to do to get what they need.

CAMERON: [Checking the patient.] Kyle's under three in the RLAS scale. He's only showing localized response.

[Foreman sighs.]

CHASE: I'll call House. Tell him I'm gonna need an answer soon.

[He walks out.]

[Aerial sh*t of highway. Wilson's car is seen.]

[Wilson's car. Interior. Gabe is driving. House, in the passenger seat, is going through a map.]

WILSON: Get in the right lane for 295. And pass me the Twizzlers.

[Gabe passes it behind. Wilson pops one in his mouth.]

WILSON: I'm curious.

HOUSE: No, you're not.

WILSON: Why would a man's first instinct to be to drive away from the only family he's got?

HOUSE: Noooo! This is no time for you to do your thing! We don't care about his state of mind, we don't care if he's happy. [To Gabe.] This factory of yours. What did you make?

[Gabe looks at House, who looks back. House sighs.]

HOUSE: So ask me a question.

GABE: I'm thinking.

HOUSE: [To Wilson, holding up a bottle of Vicodin.] Only six left, by the way.

WILSON: So sign my name. You don't need a doctor, you need a pen.

[House dry-swallows a Vicodin.]

GABE: What is up with you two?

HOUSE: Wilson lied to the bulls to keep me out of the big house.

WILSON: [Pissed.] Are you out of your mind?

HOUSE: Who's he gonna tell? By tomorrow night, he's gonna be a mindless stalk of celery. Since I answered that one, by the way, my turn. What did you make in your factory?

GABE: Luxury boats. You ever been in love?

HOUSE: Wow! Going right for the closets with the embarrassing stuff. Good move. [His answer.] Yes! Describe the boats.

GABE: Thirty-five to sixty-five foot hulls, twin engines, Parquet floors in the galley, staterooms with queen beds. How'd you meet?

HOUSE: She sh*t me. These boats - I assume you use mildew-resistant paint on the hulls?

GABE: Naturally. sh*t you?

HOUSE: Paintball. Doctors versus lawyers. Ever take your son to the factory?

GABE: Sure. He used to run all over the place. He was perfectly safe. Ever love anybody else?

HOUSE: [Shaking his head.] No more questions. I got my answer. While dad's in the office, son's watching 'em spray-paint. And what kid wears a mask?

[House pulls out his cell phone and starts dialing.]

HOUSE: Mercury specifically targets the central nervous system.

GABE: You're saying this is my fault?

[House has the cell phone at his ear, waiting for a response.]

HOUSE: Mercury poisoning explains the seizures. The liver's like a big soup-strainer. Soup drains through, chicken dumplings stay. For soup read blood, for chicken dumplings...

GABE: [Morosely.] I get it, I get it. Mercury.

HOUSE: Sits more or less idle until your kid pours tequila sh**t into his liver. When the liver goes, takes out his kidneys - explains everything.

[He gets a response on his cell phone.]

HOUSE: [Into the phone.] Yeah, it's me.

[House's office. Foreman puts House on the speakerphone. Cameron is nearby.]

HOUSE: [From phone.] Foreman, draw blood, test for mercury poisoning. Chase, start heavy-metal chelation while we're waiting for results.

[Cameron and Foreman exchange uneasy glances.]

FOREMAN: Chase isn't here. I'll start the...

HOUSE: Where is he?

[Another exchange of uneasy glances.]

FOREMAN: The lab.

[Back in the car, House hangs up.]

[PPTH lab (AKA Tritter's interrogation room). Tritter grills a harried-looking Chase.]

TRITTER: How many pills does he take a day?

CHASE: It's hard to say. Pain levels vary all the time. Could be six, eight... ten.

TRITTER: Ever write any prescriptions for him?

CHASE: [Nods.] Yes.

TRITTER: Why? Did he tell you to?

CHASE: He asked me to.

[Tritter smiles, then rolls up a chair and takes a seat in front of Chase.]

TRITTER: Medicine attracts people who are attracted to power. I know how he hates when he is defied by a patient. I doubt he handles defiance from his staff any better. Now you correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think Dr. House asks for anything. I think he takes it. And I think that you are stuck, lying to the police, to cover up something [Shaking his head sympathetically.] you didn't wanna do.

[Chase stares coldly at Tritter.]

[Beta Comment: Oh Tritter you judgeth wrongly my friend; seriously that was the wrong play for Chase.]

[Atlantic City. Evening. Wilson's car comes to a stop at a traffic light.]

HOUSE: [V.O.] We have been up and down St. James like a Monopoly car. It's not here. Giancarlo has left the building.

[Gabe rests his head on the wheel in disappointment. Then he angrily pounds on wheel.]

WILSON: We can still turn around and go back to Princeto...

GABE: [Aloud.] No! We've come this far, I'm getting the hoagie!

WILSON: [b*at.] If your son does have mercury poisoning, there's a good chance he'll respond to the chelation. You might be able to have a few minutes with him before you lapse...

GABE: [Turns around, upset.] Why are you so concerned about me?

[Wilson gives up.]

HOUSE: Deep inside, Wilson believes if he cares enough, he'll never have to die.

WILSON: [To Gabe.] Your behavior isn't normal.

HOUSE: [Scoffs.] And you would know normal.

WILSON: What could he have done that you won't forgive after ten years, when this is your last chance?

GABE: My son is what he is. His mother's side - all drunken losers; he's gone the same way.

WILSON: House told you that drinking had damaged your son's liver.

GABE: But you said that!

WILSON: But you didn't hear him say that 'til after we left the hospital. So, why did you leave?

[Gabe silently looks outside.]

HOUSE: Maybe your son takes after your side; seizures and an allergy to emotional connections.

GABE: [Waving wildly.] Okay, okay, okay, enough! We're in Atlantic City, and my time's not up yet. We'll find a hotel with a casino.

[He starts the car and they drive off.]

[Kyle's room. Cameron is flashing her flashlight into Kyle's eyes. Foreman is also checking up on him. Suddenly, the monitors start beeping.]

CAMERON: BP's starting to drop.

[Monitor starts to whine and beep.]

FOREMAN: O2 stats down to 70.

[Cameron puts an oxygen mask on Kyle. Foreman gets a syringe with epinephrine and injects it into Kyle's IV.]

FOREMAN: Point-three milligrams of epi. In.

CAMERON: What're you trying to do? Make him bleed faster?

FOREMAN: Check the pulse.

[Cameron does.]

FOREMAN: It's not his liver.

[Cameron checks the monitor. HR 126, BP 104/58, SpO2 70, Temp (F) 101.]

FOREMAN: It's the heart.

[Cameron looks nervously at Foreman.]

[Aerial sh*t of Caesar's Palace, Atlantic City.]

[Hotel suite. Gabe is on the couch, watching TV, while House limps about. Wilson is on the phone with Room Service.]

WILSON: [Into the phone.] I understand it's a French chef. But I'm sure he can handle this. Need a twelve-inch Italian roll, Oregano vinegar. No, not Balsamic vinegar. Oregano vinegar.

[House puts off the TV and stands menacingly in front of Gabe.]

HOUSE: [Hannibal Greg.] Quid pro quo, Clarice. [Regular Greg.] Game's still on.

GABE: I thought the answer was mercury poisoning. What other questions would you care about?

WILSON: [Cradling phone.] If you each had one day to live, you'd look for one last meal and House would look for one last answer.

[House holds up his Vicodin bottle and signals that he has only five pills left. He dry-swallows one.]

WILSON: [Into the phone.] No, can you just send the ingredients up here and I'll make it myself.

[Wilson hangs up. Gabe looks disappointed.]

HOUSE: Last ten years. How much awareness did you have?

GABE: I don't know. I knew it wasn't the next day. I knew that, I recognized your voice. How often were you in my room?

[House is about to answer/lie, when Wilson chimes in.]

WILSON: No, you're wasting a question. I have a better one.

[House braces for it.]

WILSON: [Serious.] Why steal my pad?

HOUSE: Oh my God, you're right! I'm an addict. Thanks for opening my eyes.

WILSON: [Shaking his head.] No, I mean, why my pad? Foreman, Cameron and Chase's pads are just as convenient. But their association with you is involuntary. They're employees. I associate with you through choice and any relationship that involves choice, you have to see how far you can push before it breaks.

HOUSE: This is easy. You ask the questions, answer them and make tasty snacks. [Gets up.] Let's go try the casino.

WILSON: And one day, our friendship will break and it'll just prove your theory that relationships are conditional and you don't need human connection or deserve it or whatever goes on in that rat maze of your brain.

HOUSE: [To Gabe.] Sorry. If I'd known he was gonna be this annoying, I'd have stolen Dr. Cameron's pad and Dr. Foreman's car. She appreciates my brooding melancholy.

[His cell phone rings. He answers it.]

HOUSE: [Whiny-voice.] House's house of whining. State your complaint.

INTERCUT WITH:

[PPTH lab. Foreman speaks to House on his cell phone.]

FOREMAN: Patient's BP just dropped like a stone.

HOUSE: Do an echo. Mercury isn't likely to damage the...

FOREMAN: It didn't. Mercury test was negative.

HOUSE: [Grimly.] Do an echo.

[House hangs up, solemnly. Wilson and Gabe watch him with interest.]

HOUSE: I was wrong. Your son's still dying. I need to go over every relative you ever had again. This time, forget their diseases, just tell me how they died. We don't have time to take turns.

[Hurriedly, he sits down and picks up some files from the table.]

HOUSE: Give me the answers, you get a big one at the end. Go for whatever you want. Destroy my privacy, my dignity.

[Hotel suite. Room service has delivered the hoagie ingredients, except the foot long Italian roll. Instead, they've delivered triangle-shaped bread slices. Wilson is already on the phone, waiting to complain. House is still pestering Gabe about his relatives' deaths.]

HOUSE: Your grandmother?

GABE: Heat exhaustion. Fourth of July picnic. The woman was 92.

[Wilson gets an answer.]

WILSON: [Into phone, pained] Does anyone in the kitchen know the hoagie shop that used to be on St. James' place?

HOUSE: Your sister-in-law with diabetes. As far as you know, she's still alive?

GABE: She's not. k*lled in a traffic accident while driving home from a Phillies game; I'm sure lot of beer was consumed. Phillies lost!

HOUSE: Your father?

GABE: Old age. Heart finally gave up.

HOUSE: Your wife's father?

GABE: h*t-and-run. Walking the incontinent dog.

[Wilson has got a number and has dialed it. He gets an answer.]

WILSON: [Into phone, hopefully.] Hi, you guys deliver? [b*at.] Lemme put it this way. If you deliver, there'll be a hundred dollar tip in it for you.

[The answer must be "Yeah!", because he exults.]

WILSON: [Into the phone.] Excellent! [To Gabe.] Victory.

GABE: [Laughs.] The night is finally going my way. Wilson, toss me a soda.

[Wilson picks up a beer can and tosses it at Gabe. Gabe's hand is positioned to catch it, but he doesn't clasp it as it hits his hand. His hand remains open. The can falls to the floor. This event is not lost on any of the three men in the room. Gabe slowly curls his fingers inward to make a fist. House and Wilson exchange a knowing glance.]

[PPTH lobby. Foreman is on his laptop. Tritter walks up behind him.]

TRITTER: Should we go somewhere to talk?

FOREMAN: [Sighs and ignores the question.] House is an ass. But he obviously needs pain medication. How much pain one person feels is not a call the government should be making.

TRITTER: So you think I'm a bureaucrat with a badge, following some arbitrary guideline?

FOREMAN: [Pretends to think about it.] Yeah. I do.

TRITTER: So you're saying I should, just trust him. Do you?

FOREMAN: You're not qualified to make...

TRITTER: I'm not sure you are either.

[Foreman stares at Tritter.]

TRITTER: I've been a cop for twenty years. Not a day goes by that someone doesn't try to sell me some self-serving story.

[Foreman tries to ignore Tritter and resumes his work.]

TRITTER: If you had my job, you'd know. [b*at.] Everybody lies.

[Foreman stops, obviously feeling an uncomfortable feeling of dej࠶u. Tritter walks off.]

[Hotel room. House's questioning seems to be losing steam.]

GABE: Think you've run out of relatives. So, it's my turn.

[House remains silent.]

GABE: Why did you become a doctor?

[House sits on the couch.]

HOUSE: That's the big question? I give you complete license to humiliate me and that's the best you can do. Well, okay. Let's discuss the wonder of the human body.

GABE: No, no, no. You're a curious guy. You like to figure things out. Why not go into research? Why work with people when you obviously hate people.

[Wilson finds the question pertinent and waits for an answer.]

HOUSE: Oedipal fixation. I was seeking my mother's love and she thought that Ben Casey was just the dreamiest.

GABE: All right ine. You don't think you'll need any more answers from me? Give me a hard time.

[House looks at Wilson, who is waiting for the answer. Finally, he relents.]

HOUSE: When I was fourteen, my father was stationed in Japan. I went rock-climbing with this kid from school. He fell, got injured and I had to bring him to the hospital. We came in through the wrong entrance, passed this guy in the hall. It was a janitor. Friend came down with an infection and doctors didn't know what to do. So they brought in the janitor. He was a doctor and a buraku; one of Japan's untouchables. His ancestors had been slaughterers, gravediggers. And this guy knew that he wasn't accepted by the staff, didn't even try, didn't dress well, he didn't pretend to be one of them. The people around that place, they didn't think that he had anything they wanted, except when they needed him. Because he was right; which meant that nothing else mattered, they had to listen to him.

[Silence.]

[Kyle's room. Cameron and Chase prepare to perform an ultrasound on an unconscious Kyle. Cameron hands Chase the bottle of gel.]

CHASE: 'Kyou. [It's "Thank you", not the other thing!!!]

[Just as he's about to apply it on Kyle's chest, Kyle goes into convulsions. The monitor begins to whine. Chase and Cameron try and hold him down.]

CHASE: Need twenty milligrams of diazepam in a syringe!

[The nurse goes to get it. Cameron holds Kyle's head to the side. Then, the monitor starts beeping.]

CAMERON: Heart b*at's irregular and accelerating!

[Kyle's head is jerking too much for Cameron to hold it down.]

CAMERON: It's at two hundred!

CHASE: He's gonna crash!

CAMERON: Allergic reaction to diazepam?!

[Chase gets the paddles from the crash cart and starts to charge them up.]

CHASE: Better hope so! Either that or his heart's done!

[Chase zaps Kyle.]

[Hotel room. Wilson and Gabe lounge on the couches. House gazes at a light fixture.]

HOUSE: What happened on the night of the f*re?

[Gabe glares at House.]

HOUSE: Yeah, sure it's a stressful, emotional question. Suck it up!

GABE: My wife had taken a sleeping pill and gone to bed. It was Christmas Eve. Kyle popped corn in the fireplace. He managed to knock loose some tinder. Wrapping paper caught on f*re. Spread so fast. I got Kyle outta there. When I went back in for... [Chokes, takes a b*at, then.]

WILSON: You're a disappointment.

[Gabe looks at Wilson in surprise.]

WILSON: You act as though you don't need anybody. You just blame your son for what happened.

GABE: [Sitting up.] I don't blame him. He was a twelve-year-old boy. You don't blame a kid for an accident.

WILSON: Then what are we doing here? Why aren't you with him?

GABE: [Yelling.] Because it wouldn't matter! [Gets up and walks around, still yelling.] I failed to keep my family safe! I couldn't stop the f*re, I couldn't save my wife! [Getting angrier.] Now you want me to stick around watching while I fail to save my son?! [Through clenched teeth.] Thank you so much for waking me up!!

[Wilson backs down.]

HOUSE: How did your son dislodge the tinder?

[Gabe chuckles wryly and sits down, his face buried in his hands. Then, as if to humor the crazy doc, he replies.]

GABE: He dropped the popcorn tray. He had been complaining it was too heavy. I should have listened.

HOUSE: And the h*t-and-run, walking the pissy dog. That happen at night?

GABE: [Cooling down a bit.] I think so, yeah. Why?

HOUSE: Car accident after the Phillies lost. Night game?

[Gabe nods. Wilson seems to see where House is going with this.]

HOUSE: Ragged Red Fiber. It's an inherited condition. Dropping things, muscle weakness, poor night-vision. These people seem uncoordinated and accident-prone. Careless. It's transmitted in mitochondrial DNA, so it only passes through the mother. Your wife's family weren't drunks, they were sick.

WILSON: It wouldn't have affected his liver.

HOUSE: The kid is a drunk. Thinks that he k*lled his mother and turned his father into a vegetable. I might have a few sh*ts myself.

[As he speaks, he pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. He waits for a response. He gets it.]

FOREMAN: [From phone.] Foreman.

HOUSE: Test his DNA for Ragged Red Fiber.

[PPTH lobby. Foreman speaks on a landline phone.]

FOREMAN: It's not gonna...

HOUSE: Here's a thought. Why don't we not assume that the test is negative 'til we actually do it.

FOREMAN: House. The kid has severe cardiomyopathy. Alcoholic and no sh*t of a transplant. So yeah, maybe you figured out why. Good for you, but he's gonna die anyway.

[Foreman looks behind into Kyle's room at Kyle, unconscious, hooked up to monitors and a respirator. Foreman hangs up.]

[House hangs up as well, looking grim. He looks at the others.]

[Hotel room. Night. The hoagie's finally here but no one is eating it. It's raining outside and thunder can be heard. Wilson sits morosely on the couch, while House paces the room. Gabe peers out the window at the view. Finally.]

GABE: [Decisively.] I want to give Kyle my heart.

[House stops pacing. He and Wilson look at Gabe. Gabe faces them and speaks.]

GABE: This thing, whatever it is. You said he gets it from the mother. My heart's fine.

WILSON: And it could go on being fine for the rest of your life.

HOUSE: Yeah. 'S not like he's gonna do anything with it.

WILSON: [Standing.] Well, you woke him up once. Maybe, someone will come up with some other answer. We've both seen breakthroughs no one expected. [To Gabe.] And Ragged Red Fiber's treatable, but not curable. Even if he gets your heart, there's no guarantee.

[Gabe doesn't care.]

GABE: He's my kid.

[Cuddy's office. Night. Cuddy's on the phone with House.]

CUDDY: No! Did you really expect a different answer?

[Hotel room. House is on his cell phone.]

HOUSE: We have arranged transplants before when a patient is near death.

CUDDY: Except he isn't near death. He's saying "k*ll me and cut out my heart". Are you out of your mind?

HOUSE: Fine. I'll think of something else.

CUDDY: I'm sorry.

[She hangs up.]

[House does the same. He shakes his head. He limps over to an armchair and sits.]

HOUSE: Wilson, get out.

[Wilson guesses what House is going to do.]

WILSON: [Firm, yet unsure.] No.

HOUSE: You've lied to the cops enough for me. Maybe I don't wanna push this 'til it breaks.

[Wilson seems to understand. He looks at Gabe and slowly walks out, taking his jacket and House's cane as he goes. He closes the door behind him. House waits till Wilson is gone. In a somber tone, he speaks to Gabe.]

HOUSE: Pills are the simplest. Hanging has less chance of damaging the heart.

GABE: [Thinks about it.] I'm okay with pain.

HOUSE: Strangulation's better than breaking your neck. Which means this'll be slow.

GABE: [Sighs.] I wouldn't get to see him even if we got in a car right now and broke the speed limit, driving back, would I?

HOUSE: [Small shake of his head.] No.

GABE: [Nod.] Tell him... [Long b*at.] I don't know what to tell him. [Sighs.] Think it's my turn to ask a question, isn't it?

HOUSE: I don't think so. 'Cause you've just asked me that thing about the speed limit.

[Gabe looks at House with a "Humor me" look. House relents.]

HOUSE: What do you wanna know?

GABE: If you could hear on thing from your father, what would it be?

HOUSE: I wouldn't help you.

GABE: Try me.

HOUSE: I'd want him to say, "You were right. You did the right thing".

GABE: [Smiles.] Yeah, it doesn't help.

[House chuckles and looks at Gabe, the smile disappearing slowly. Gabe looks solemnly at House.]

[Hotel casino. Gamblers do their thing, as Wilson stands at the craps table. He "hits" on a woman there.]

WILSON: Hi.

MRS. SCHAEFFER: Hi.

WILSON: [Clearly enunciating.] I'm Dr. Wilson.

MRS. SCHAEFFER: I'm Mrs. Schaeffer.

WILSON: I'm from Princeton.

MRS. SCHAEFFER: [Trying to blow him off gently.] My husband and I and our three children are from Philadelphia.

[Wilson nods and rolls his eyes. He braces himself.]

WILSON: So, uhh, do you like to swing?

[Mrs. Schaeffer looks at him and laughs.]

MRS. SCHAEFFER: No.

WILSON: Well, if you change your mind, I'm in...

[He turns around and yells.]

WILSON: House! House!

[A balding guy with a long face, stubble and House's cane looks up. Mrs. Schaeffer turns to see "House".]

WILSON: Is it Room 622? 642?

"HOUSE": [Rehearsed speech.] 622.

WILSON: [To Mrs. Schaeffer.] It's 622.

MRS. SCHAEFFER: [Get lost.] Yeah.

[Wilson seems satisfied by this rejection. He walks over to "House" and slaps some money in his hand and takes back House's cane. He walks away, his and House's alibi made.]

[Hotel corridor, outside their room. House is sitting on the floor, near their room door. Wilson walks over and gives House is cane back.]

WILSON: [Explaining.] Alibi.

HOUSE: I figured.

[They wait silently for a while. Then an ominous thud is heard from inside their room. They look at each other, sadly.]

[Aerial sh*t of PPTH. Night.]

[The Operation Room doors are thrown open as surgeons, orderlies and nurses hurriedly wheel in two gurneys, one with Kyle on life support and the other with Gabe. Gabe has a red ligature mark on his throat. As they move out of view, we see House watching expressionlessly through the glass portion of the OR doors. He dry-swallows a Vicodin. He turns away from the door and walks into Cuddy.]

CUDDY: They found an open bottle of Aspirin by the body. Lucky he had a headache. Reduced trauma to the heart in transit.

HOUSE: [Expressionless nod.] Lucky.

[Cuddy knows better than to waste time, chewing House out. Eyes closed in defeat, she walks off.]

[Kyle's room. Kyle is recuperating from the heart transplant. He's conscious. House is in the room.]

KYLE: That can't be all.

HOUSE: Well, you got a heart out of it. How many organs do want from the guy?

KYLE: I mean, my father must have said something. He couldn't just... he must have given you some kind of a message for me.

HOUSE: [b*at.] He said you were right. You did the right thing.

[He starts to walk out.]

KYLE: [Confused.] Right about what? What does that mean?

HOUSE: How should I know? He's your dad.

[He leaves. Kyle fights back tears and sniffles, remembering his dad.]

[PPTH lobby. Wilson's at the ATM again, trying to withdraw money, but can't seem to get any. House appears behind him.]

HOUSE: You know what I found interesting about this case?

WILSON: That it proved people can love unconditionally and you can tell yourself it's not true, but you'll just end up in a hotel room in Atlantic City, asking someone to cut your heart out?

HOUSE: The hoagie.

[The ATM beeps again. No transaction. Wilson frowns.]

HOUSE: You thought this guy was emotionally confused and the hoagie was just a mask to hide his real feelings towards his son.

WILSON: It was. Did you know Tritter was talking to your team while we were away?

HOUSE: Yeah. Yet you moved heaven and earth to get him that mask with mustard and proscuitto.

WILSON: Which one of them told you?

HOUSE: All of them. Which means that none of them said anything that I have to worry about. Now, back to the hoagie. You think that my addiction's out of hand? Your need to be needed is so strong that you give people what they want, what they need, what they think they need.

[Wilson gets on his cell phone to the bank.]

WILSON: I don't think my enabling is anything you should be complaining about.

[He gets a response.]

WILSON: [Into the phone] Yes, my name is Dr. James Wilson, account number 835687. The ATM says I've got zero [b*at.] What does that mean? A hold? [b*at.] Yeah, okay. Thanks.

[Beta Comment: Whose account number is six numbers long? Mine is like sixteen and I need to know the special three digit number on the back of the card, my social security number, my mom's maiden name AND promise them my first born before they'll admit I even have an account let alone give me info like that.]

[He hangs up and leans against the machine in frustration.]

WILSON: [Sighs.] My accounts have been frozen as part of a police investigation.

HOUSE: [Trying to be supportive.] They can't keep your money forever.

WILSON: No, they can keep it 'til I agree to help send you prison for ten years. [Sighs again.] You're getting dinner.

[He walks away. House remains behind, a troubled look on his face. Then he leaves, following Wilson.]
{"type": "series", "show": "House", "episode": "03x07 - Son of Coma Guy"}