[Open on Frankie’s face. It’s very late at night and the living room is dark. She’s lit by the glow from her laptop, which gives her a blue-black tint. Nora Jones’ “Chasing Pirates” plays as Frankie types. “Taylor and I Had an Argument…” which turns out to be the title of her blog entry. Random words can be seen as she types. Finally, the text of the entry in her blog, “A Considered Life,” can be seen.

Taylor and I had an Argument…

Taylor and I had an argument. Right now he’s sleeping, and I’m dwelling.

The evening started pleasantly enough --Taylor got through that extra work and we both went to the Blue Grotto (a local place where the chef does some half-price experimenting on Monday nights.) He had crayfish and mussels and I had a smoked salmon dish. Everything was fun until he started mocking me

She takes a bite of a cookie as she reads comments on the entry. Taylor comes to the bedroom door.]

Taylor: Are you ever coming to bed?

Frankie: I still say I'm a vegetarian.

Taylor: Well, you can say that you're an astronaut, but that doesn't make it true. A salmon is not a vegetable, Frankie.

Frankie: Well, apparently, eight out of ten commenters agree with you. Except for the part where you said, "I believe what I want to believe." That they found a little judgmental.

Taylor: [approaching] You blogged our argument? I asked you to quit talking about me. I don't want a bunch of people that I don't know hearing stuff that's meant to be between me and you.

Frankie: I write about my life. And you're a big part of that.

Taylor: That's great. I want to be a big part of your life. But I don't want to be a big part of their lives. Take it down, erase it, delete it. Make it go away.

[There’s someone knocking loudly at the door. Adam answers it. Their neighbor, Stuart, is there.]

Stuart: Come on, man. It's 2:00 in the morning. These walls are made out of tissue paper. I gotta be up in three hours to do a wiring job in Edison.

Adam: I'm sorry. We'll try to hold it down.

Frankie: [standing behind Taylor] Sorry.

[Taylor sees that the entire left side of her face is bruised.]

Taylor: Frankie, what happened? [Stuart starts dialing his cell phone.] Whoa, whoa. That's not what you think. Something's wrong.

Stuart: We need a police car at 152 Haverhill.

Frankie: Whoa, what are you two talking about? [She looks in a mirror.] Oh, my God.

Taylor: Are you all right?

Frankie: I think it's coming from my gums. [She touches her mouth. She’s bleeding a lot.]

[Opening Credits]

[Cut to a cane lying on the floor. A DVD, “How Wet Was My Valley,” pops out of the player above it. House, wearing his bathrobe, takes it out and puts it in its case. There’s the sound of footsteps as Wilson comes in, buttoning his cuffs and almost ready for work.]

Wilson: What are you doing tonight?

House: Masturbating. I'd invite you, but people are already talking.

Wilson: It's pathetic. You divide your nights between p*rn and the Discovery Channel.

House: Right. Playing Dance Dance Revolution is a much better choice.

[He drops the DVDs on the kitchen island and picks up his cereal and goes to the orange couch while Wilson looks at the DVDs on the counter.]

Wilson: Okay, that was a gift from a patient, and it happens to be great exercise. I mean, who rents p*rn anymore? Can't you get this stuff on the Internet?

House: You can. But you can't get disc two with the director's commentary.

Wilson: Come out with me tonight. I'm going speed dating.

House: You mean you're dating on meth? Count me in.

Wilson: You need to meet somebody. This way, you meet 20 somebodies.

House: Over a five-minute discussion of Proust? Speed dating's a meat market.

Wilson: Yeah. Dozens of women just waiting to be h*t on. Your odds of a happy ending are nearly as good as staying home and watching p*rn.

[House considers this.]

[Cut to Frankie’s room. She’s in bed, typing on her computer. Taylor is reading in a nearby chair.]

[Cut to House’s office. He’s in his easy chair, reading a hard cover copy of The Golden Bowl. Foreman opens the door and enters, followed by the rest of the team.]

Foreman: You plan on doing any work today?

House: I thought I might do a little light doctoring in the afternoon.

Foreman: [handing House a file] 28-year-old female sudden unexplained coagulopathy.

Chase: Could be congenital thrombocytopenia.

House: Platelets look normal.

Thirteen: Patient makes money doing freelance photography. Some photographic processes produce toxic gases.

Foreman: She's a blogger. I can't see her photos being anything but digital.

House: What does she blog? Politics? Dominatrix? Cooking? 'Cause I need recipes.

Chase: It's a personal journal. I don't get putting your whole life online.

Taub: It's not that crazy. Privacy's basically a modern invention. Towns used to be too small for anybody to keep any secrets. What if it's not the platelets, but the glue that holds 'em together?

Chase: No. Thrombin and von Willebrand factor are normal.

House: And knowing too much about each other is exactly why people leave small towns and move to the city.

Taub: And a lot of people choose to stay because, in return for zero privacy, you get community, connection.

House: Big red As for our tunics. Connections are for airports. For people, we have over 300 cable channels.

Thirteen: Her photos may be digital – doesn't mean she couldn't have been exposed to some other toxin. We should search the apartment.

House: Eeny, meeny, miny, Thirteen and Tiny. [He goes back to his book.]

[Cut to Taub and Thirteen in Frankie’s apartment. Taub tries to open a drawer.]

Taub: This one's locked.

Thirteen: I'm supposed you took the pro-community position.

Taub: I have friends. I like people.

Thirteen: You also like secrets. You deny it, it sort of proves my point.

Taub: When we're left to our own devices, we make lousy choices.

[Someone knocks on the door]

Taub: [whispering] Ignore it.

Stuart: [through the door] I can hear you in there. Open the door, or I'm calling the cops.

Taub: [looking out the window, still whispering] We're four stories up, but there's a f*re escape on the other wall. The ledge might be wide enough.

[Thirteen gives him a look and opens the door.]

Thirteen: We're doctors. We aren't stealing anything. [She shows that she’s wearing purple rubber gloves.] We're collecting samples.

Taub: Who are you?

Stuart: The neighbor. Did they say that you could come in here and –

Taub: Yup. What do you know about Frankie and Taylor?

Stuart: Not much. The guy works a lot. I see Frankie around. We argue a few times a week, and then we go back about our business.

Taub: What do you argue about?

Stuart: Frankie's got some strong opinions. Wants to recycle every molecule of trash.

Thirteen: You take the anti-recycling position?

Stuart: Trash piling up for composting's attracting every rat in the neighborhood. I had to put down poison. [to Thirteen who is trying to open the locked drawer] It's her private drawer. What are you doing over there?

Thirteen: She said she doesn't have any secrets. I'm taking her at her word.

Taub: Is there any chance Frankie touched the rat poison?

Stuart: Touched it? She grabbed a chunk of it right out of the mouth of the schnauzer from down the hall. Now every time I put the stuff down, she picks it back up.

[Taub and Thirteen exchange significant looks.]

[Cut to a restaurant. At every table there’s one woman facing an empty chair. All of the men are gathered at the bar, looking at the women. It’s a Middle School dance with alcohol. House walks though, checking out the other men and the women, in slightly slo-mo. The Dynamites' “What's it Gonna Be” plays.]

♪ Oh

♪ Come on

♪ Can’t you feel it

♪ Everybody can make up their own mind

♪ Running round in circles

♪ Gettin' left behind

[House reaches the end of the bar where… Chase salutes him with his beer bottle.]

House: [to Wilson] You brought a date?

Chase: Wilson seemed to think it was a good idea.

Wilson: You need to dive back into the pool.

House: And he has to swim in ours? You go to a bar, you bring your ugly friends.

Chase: It's not a beauty pageant.

House: Life is a beauty pageant. Little girls who kiss frogs expect them to turn into you.

Chase: Oh, come on. I'm not that good-looking.

House: Yeah, you are.

Wilson: [looking at Chase] You kind of are.

Chase: So you attribute every relationship I've ever had to the height of my cheekbones?

Wilson: Not the whole relationship. Just the beginning.

House: The rest is your hair.

Chase: This is ridiculous. Women aren't as distracted by appearances as we are. They look deeper.

House: [smiling slightly] You wanna bet? [Chase cocks his head, listening] You can't tell anyone you're a doctor. You're unemployed. You're also a little slow, misunderstand everything they say. And lose the accent. A hundred bucks says you still walk out of here with a dozen names.

[A gong rings]

Hostess: Ladies and gentlemen, the fun is about to start. When I strike this gong, each man should sit at the table you've been assigned. When I strike it again, date's over, move on.

[The gong rings. We see one conversation then cut to another table and a new conversation.]

Wilson: I'm an oncologist.

Leeanne: Oh, my aunt and my grandma, they both died from breast cancer.

Wilson: [resigned] Do-do you wanna talk about it?

[New table. House spins his button, #39, on the table then slaps it down.]

House: I'm a diagnostician. I find out what's wrong with people, and I fix it.

Melodie: Don't all doctors do that?

House: Yeah, but they can't dance like I can.

[New table.]

Chase: [Runs his hand over his face and props it under his jaw. Speaks with a fake American accent] I play video games. [He runs his tongue over his top teeth and makes a sucking noise.]

Chloe: Oh. Professionally?

Chase: [snorts slightly] I wish, bro.

[New table.]

Dionne: After six months of chemo, we thought he was out of the woods.

[Wilson looks like a sympathetic statue.]

[New table.]

Grace: I don't want kids.

House: Check.

Grace: I'm thinking about going from a "C" to a "D."

House: Quadruple check.

Grace: [enthusiastically] And I'm on f*re for the Lord.

[House gapes at her.]

[New table.]

Nicole: I'm a chocolatier.

Chase: I could tell by your hips.

Nicole: Yeah, I-I guess I could afford to lose a few pounds. [She giggles slightly. Chase does an almost imperceptible double take at her reaction.]

[New table.]

Elizabeth: I don't think I know anybody who died of cancer.

Wilson: Thank God. For you, I mean. Obviously.

Elizabeth: Except my cat. [starts tearing up] She died a few months ago.

[New table.]

Mary: I hate these things.

House: What, are you here at g*n? You need me to call 911?

Mary: Friend dragged me. She keeps trying to fix my life. Which, admittedly, could use it, but... still annoying.

House: [noticing the daily crossword puzzle she has on the table.] You like puzzles.

Mary: I hoped my job would let me play with puzzles all day long, but it didn't work out that way. [House looks intrigued.] Police detective. Turns out criminals are idiots. If they're not gonna bother to challenge you, what's the point?

House: [looking around] Is there a f*re alarm we could pull? Maybe get out of here.

Mary: [smiling] Hmm.

House: Except... Maybe you're just too swoft.

Mary: Beg your pardon.

House: Swoft. It's one of your crossword answers. I believe it means lying manipulator who tells men anything they want to hear. You brought a prop as a conversation starter. Folded the paper to make it look read, filled in some answers, but you couldn't be bothered to work at it, so you just put in random letters. You have some natural talent as a liar, but not enough brains to see it through. I'm gonna assume you're not a cop. [leans back in his chair] Are the five minutes up?

[The gong rings.]

[Cut to the guys leaving.]

Hostess: These women would welcome a call from you. [She hands Wilson a small stack of index cards.] And these women would welcome a call from you. [House gets a couple of cards. She fans a large pile of cards – a dozen or more and hands them to Chase.] My.

[Chase flips through the cards, not happy. House puts out his hand to be paid.]

[Cut to Frankie’s room. Taub and Foreman enter. Joan is sitting in a visitors’ chair, reading something on her computer. Frankie is in bed, typing.]

Taub: It's nice to have visitors.

Frankie: I'm updating my blog.

Joan: And I'm reading it.

Taub: You realize you're in the same room?

Frankie: [stops typing] Sorry. [to Foreman] So I've been thinking about what you said. And I'm sure I washed my hands after I threw out the rat poison.

Foreman: Apparently you did it multiple times over a course of days. Can't be too certain.

Joan: You must be Dr. Foreman. [to Frankie] Got to get back to work.

Frankie: Okay.

Joan: Take it easy.

[Joan leaves. Frankie sees both doctors staring at her.]

Frankie: What? She reads my blog.

Taub: [to Foreman after looking at Frankie’s laptop] Personally, I don't think you're condescending at all.

Frankie: That's not what I wrote. When you were taking my history, I told you I went whitewater rafting six months ago, and you said, [snootily] "it was unlikely to be related." I was just giving information. Let's face it. You got a little snarky.

Foreman: You can't convey a tone of voice in writing.

Frankie: I just put what you said. If you don't want people to think you're condescending, maybe you shouldn't say condescending things. [Taub nods] Can this wait a second 'cause I have to pee? [She gets up and wheels her IV stand with her.] You know, I think people behave badly because there are no records of what we say or do. [loudly, from the bathroom] And nobody believes anymore that God's watching. Well, God's not, but I am. [Taub and Foreman are bored.] Everything is on the record, including everything I do. [in the bathroom doorway] I don't think my pee is supposed to be mud-colored.

[Taub and Foreman get up.]

Foreman: We were wrong about the rat poison.

[Cut to Diagnostics. House stands at the head of the table, twirling his cane.]

House: Coagulopathy plus kidney equals what?

Thirteen: Hemolytic uremic syndrome.

House: Normal creatinine levels.

[He sees Wilson going past the office and goes to the door.]

Foreman: She has elevated cholesterol.

House: [shouting as Wilson walks past] Hey, Wilson! Can't find my p*rn.

Wilson: Have you tried offering a reward?

Taub: Gaucher's disease. It would affect her ability to synthesize Vitamin K.

Chase: She's on a semi-vegetarian diet. Means she gets plenty of Vitamin K. Sjögren's is more likely.

House: I assume you moved them while you were dusting. I checked the drawers, windowsill, DVD player in your room. [leans back into the office, stage whisper to the team] The quiet ones are always deeply repressed.

Wilson: I returned them to the store.

[He starts to walk down the hall.]

Foreman: She had a fish dinner a couple of nights ago. Could be Haff disease causing rhabdo.

House: [following him] What? Why did you return them to the store?

Wilson: It's no trouble. I had to stop next-door for my dry cleaning anyway.

Chase: Sjögren's wouldn't inhibit the clotting enzymes, infiltrate the kidneys – explains everything.

Foreman: So does Haff disease.

House: I'm not thanking you. I'm asking you why.

Wilson: Because if I did happen to bring a woman home last night, I wanted it to be a p*rn-free zone.

House: You do realize things don't have to be socks to go into a sock drawer.

Wilson: I'm sorry. Horribly, horribly sorry. I thought you'd... watched them all. [He walks away.]

House: You completely ruined my morning. I had to pull out your old family photos. [Wilson turns back to look at him.] Your mom was pretty hot. [back in the office] Haff disease fits the timing best. Start her on saline and Mannitol.

[Cut to House’s office. He’s hunched over his laptop. Wilson enters.]

Wilson: You reading your patient's blog?

House: Nope.

Wilson: [sitting] You should. Could be some clues.

House: Too many. Be like doing a whole body scan. Send us up eight blind alleys. That's why Chase is doing it.

Wilson: She mentions you.

House: She's never met me.

Wilson: You're an unseen presence, like the Wizard of Oz.

House: He was a fraud. She couldn't have gone with Keyser Soze? Speaking of movies that don't make any sense, I stopped at the rental store to get those p*rn back. I told the guy at the counter I was so grateful that you'd returned them, but I wanted them. Guess what. You only returned two. You lost the third. It's decent of you to pay for it, not let them put it on my bill.

Wilson: You know... I can explain what happened.

House: I'm sure you could. But rather than listen to your lies, I thought it'd be more fun to drive all over town and get another copy. [smiles smugly]

Wilson: You have – you have it here?

[House makes a big show of hitting a button on his keyboard. Suggestive music starts playing. House’s shoulders start moving with the music. Wilson springs from his chair and goes behind the desk to look. House looks at Wilson while Wilson looks at a scene of people, wearing animal skins and antlers, dancing around a f*re.]

Wilson: Oh, God. [The person nearest the camera turns. It’s a very young Wilson.] Oh, God! Okay, first, that's not me. It's not – mostly not – [He starts again.] I was – I was in college. [Young Wilson moves toward and then past the camera, smiling.] I don't – my roommate was minoring in film.

House: Are you hyperventilating? Remember that covering your mouth and one nostril can help.

Wilson; [pointing at the screen] He had to get this in for some grade, [on screen, the antlered Wilson peers out from behind a tree then heads for Moon Woman, who is lying on the ground] and he was desperate. And the only reason I did it was because no one would ever see it. Who knew he'd become an actual director?

House: He's not a director. He's an artist. The way he plays with light and darkness and… [Young Wilson puts his arm around the girl] boobs.

[On screen, Moon Woman is in Wilson’s arms. Only their torsos can be seen. As they turn away from the camera, Wilson has become another “actor” who barely looks like him.]

Wilson: That's not me.

Moon Woman: What are you? Where are you taking me?

Not-Wilson: Be not afraid. The forest nymphs have taught me how to please a woman.

Wilson: [desperate] That's not me. That's not – I mean, you can see it's not me. He added extra scenes so he could release it as a p*rn.

[Moon Woman is lying on the ground with her robe spread open. She wears a very modern bra. Not-Wilson leans over her, blocking the view.]

House: Be not afraid, Wilson. You took risks for your art.

Wilson: [sighing] Oh, boy. [He starts to leave. House continues watching the video, intently. At the door, Wilson turns back.]

Wilson: No one – Hey, look at me – No one can know about this.

House: From this moment on, my lips are sealed.

[Moon Woman moans in the background as Wilson leaves.]

[Cut to the hallway. Wilson almost bumps into Thirteen as he leaves House’s office.]

Wilson: Sorry. [He continues walking.]

Thirteen: It's okay. Be not afraid.

[Wilson freezes momentarily as Thirteen enters the conference room.]

[Cut to Diagnostics conference room. Chase is sitting at the table, reading Frankie’s blog on the computer. Thirteen enters.]

Thirteen: Find anything?

Chase: Relevant? No. Interesting. [shrugs] I guess. There's nothing that she doesn't share. "Angry sex is overrated. How can he expect me to be aroused when I'm so pissed at him?"

Thirteen: [getting coffee] Revelations like that might just earn her a new kidney. An hour after she blogged about her kidney failure, the hospital got a call from Singapore. One of Frankie's readers asking how hard it would be to donate.

[Chase appears to be thinking intently.]

Chase: How good-looking am I? [Thirteen turns and gives him a questioning look.] I'm not asking if you're attracted to me. I'm looking for an objective answer.

Thirteen: Oh, okay, then it's an appropriate question.

Chase: Last night, I acted like a complete tosser to prove to House that women don't go out with me for my looks. Cost me a hundred bucks and my definition of myself. And women.

Thirteen: So date men. They're not shallow at all.

Chase: [has an epiphany] Everything's physical.

Thirteen: Yes. We are physical beings. Some more than others. Please don't define my entire gender based on one night.

Chase: No, what if the patient's problem is a physical reaction, not an emotional one? What if her lack of arousal had nothing to do with their fight? Sjögren's would inhibit her normal secretions.

[Thirteen gestures agreement.]

[Cut to treatment room. Chase wheels Frankie in.]

Chase: Sorry for keeping you up. I thought it better not to wait till morning.

Frankie: Oh, it's no problem. I'm a night owl. [He takes her IV off the stand attached to the chair.] So you think I might have this Sjögren's 'cause of my lack of discharge?

Chase: Yeah. It's lucky you wrote about that.

[He helps get her set up on the table.]

Frankie: And a little crazy, you're thinking, to share that much?

Chase: Not crazy. Unusual to be so intimate with people you don't know.

[He goes to the terminal, turning his back on her.]

Frankie: But I do know them. They read my blog, I comment on theirs. Just 'cause you haven't met someone physically doesn't mean you don't know them. What about you? Are you in a relationship?

Chase: [not looking at her] It recently ended.

Frankie: Oh. Sorry.

Chase: Lie flat on your back all the way.

[Frankie leans back, on her side, and props herself up with her elbow.]

Frankie: But you saw each other every day, right? How much did you tell her about what you were thinking? Or did you just end up talking about where you were going to dinner and who needed to do the laundry?

Chase: Is that what your relationship with Taylor is like?

Frankie: No. Oh, maybe a little. You know, he's-he’s great, but sometimes it's easier to open up to people who aren't looking at you.

Chase: You need to lie flat for us to get the x-ray.

Frankie: I'm actually not comfortable on my back. Can't we do it this way?

Chase: Did you strain a muscle?

Frankie: No. What's wrong?

[He’s looking at her and thinking.]

[Cut to Diagnostics. House is getting coffee as the others take seats at the table. Chase enters.]

Chase: I've booked our patient in for heart surgery. I was doing a sialogram on her, and she didn't want to lie on her back. That's a complaint you hear from people with heart valve issues. It fits. Sjögren's damaged her heart, causing her clotting problems, causing her kidneys to fail.

Taub: You based all that on the fact that she didn't want to lie down?

Chase: Well, that and the cardiac echo I performed after she didn't want to lie down.

House: [looking at the Echo] Her mitral valve is nearly gone. Which means she's nearly gone. [looks at Chase] God, you're pretty.

[Chase smirks.]

[Cut to Frankie’s room. Taub, Chase. Frankie and Taylor are there.]

Chase: So we can replace the mitral valve with a pig valve or with a plastic one.

Frankie: From an actual pig?

Taub: It's the better choice if you want to have children someday. A plastic valve requires you to be on anticoagulants, which are known to cause birth defects. On the other hand, the pig valve wears out quickly, so you'd need to have heart surgery again in ten years.

Chase: I know that you're on the fence about having kids, but Taylor really wants them. [Taub looks at him.] It's in the blog. [Taylor slumps back in his chair, annoyed.] I'm afraid you two will need to agree on that decision earlier than planned.

[Chase and Taub leave.]

Taylor: It's your call.

Frankie: [sighing] Can you pass me my laptop?

Taylor: Seriously?

Frankie: I want to get some feedback.

Taylor: You really think that asking strangers for some off-the-top- of-their-head response is gonna be helpful here? A lot of your readers are into animal rights. They've got you two-thirds of the way to vegan. What are they gonna say about you buying your life with the life of a pig?

Frankie: Whatever they say, I don't have to do it.

Taylor: It won't work out that way. And we're the ones that are gonna have to live with this. Please, Frankie. Don't tell them.

Frankie: If I start picking and choosing, I'm being dishonest. I'm sorry.

[She reaches for her laptop and opens it, giving Taylor an apologetic look as she does so.]

[Cut to Wilson’s office. He enters, followed by Sandy, his assistant. He signs something and hands her the clipboard.]

Sandy: Thanks.

[He turns toward his desk. He freezes and his jaw drops. His movie posters have been replaced with posters for “Feral Pleasures.” The one on the left says “She discovered he was part stag but all man” in red. The other has the tagline “The nymphs taught him secrets no man was meant to know!” in yellow. Both feature clear pictures of Wilson, with antlers. He approaches them slowly.]

Sandy: Though I guess I should thank whoever taught you how to please a woman. [He turns slowly, glaring.] Maybe it was the forest nymphs.

Wilson: [turns away from her and says, ominously] Get my Vertigo poster back.

[Cut to the cafeteria. The cash register opens and the cashier takes out some coins and drops them in the customer’s hand.]

Cashier: Be not afraid. It's exact change.

Wilson: Okay.

[Wilson takes his tray and joins Chase at a two-person booth.]

Chase: [suspiciously] Hello?

Wilson: I'm looking to get something on House.

Chase: Couldn't you just ask the love nymphs for the secret?

Wilson: Don't. My mission is to find something that House would not like to see made public and make it public.

Chase: In. But you know him better than anyone. Why do you need my help?

Wilson: House would never leave anything secret around the condo. But you've worked in the same office with him, on and off, for years. Think back. Were there ever any odd phone calls or visitors from the past?

Chase: He openly brings prost*tute into the hospital, and he gambles with bookies 'cause he's too lazy to go to the OTB. And you're asking for some – [He stops and laughs.]

Wilson: What? What? [pause] What?

Chase: He's reading The Golden Bowl.

Wilson: The Gold – The – by Henry James?

Chase: Yeah. No. No, no, he's not really reading it. [Wilson is nodding.]

Wilson: Okay. I don't – I don’t understand.

Chase: That book's at least 400 pages long. Whatever he's reading is only half that thick.

Wilson: Maybe he's reading a version with a smaller font.

Chase: He's not using his reading glasses.

Wilson: That's a good point.

Chase: He took the cover off The Golden Bowl and put it onto this other book so no one would know what he was reading. Whatever it is, he's ashamed of it.

Wilson: [thoughtfully] Huh.

[Cut to close up of the Apple logo on Frankie’s laptop. She closes the lid.]

Frankie: I'm going with plastic. It just makes more sense. I don't want another operation later.

Taylor: That's not why you're doing this. Look, when you were first telling me about why you love the Internet, you said that no one has to be alone again. Whoever you are, whatever you love, you can connect with someone. If you want to recreate the Boston Tea Party while dressed as imperial storm troopers, you can find the ten other people in the world that have always wanted to do that.

Frankie: That hasn't changed.

Taylor: But you have. This thing that you do, it's not about connection anymore. It's about an audience. It's a performance, and you've got one eye on the number of hits. You've turned our lives into their entertainment. You're smart, you're fun to read, it's okay. But don't give them this. Or if you do, don't... expect me to be here.

[Cut to House’s office. Wilson is searching around the desk. Chase is going through the bookshelves by the door.]

Wilson: Well, it's a good cover choice. It's not like anyone would pick it up.

Chase: It's Cameron's favorite book. I don't even know what it's about.

Wilson: Don't do that to yourself. [He opens a drawer and shuffles through some stuff.] What the hell?

[He pulls out a sheaf of paper. The top page says “A Gregory House Production” in large letters. Wilson opens to a random page. There’s a picture of him from the movie, dancing around the f*re. “His touch released the pagan ecstasy in a lover’s soul.” Is written in yellow across the page. “A Gregory House Production” is printed under the picture.]

Wilson: Giving him a computer is like giving plutonium to Dr. No.

[Chase smiles as he goes to the bookshelves behind the desk.]

Chase: Got it. [He holds it aloft in triumph. As he opens it, the cover comes off the front. The spine of the book says “Step by Step.”]

Wilson: [reading over Chase’s shoulder] Step by Step: Sermons for Everyday Life?

[Chase flips through the book, glancing at several pages.]

Chase: These are literal sermons, written by a minister. Loving thy neighbor even when thy neighbor's stereo is keeping you up at night. Why would he read this?

Wilson: Why would he hide it? He reads the Bible, he reads the Koran. He says he likes to know what mistakes people are making.

Chase: You think he's sincere? You think that he's actually getting something out of this?

Wilson: I don't know.

Chase: [closing the book and smiling] What a hypocrite. How can we use this in a cruel yet funny way?

Wilson: You know what? [takes the book jacket from the desk and the book from Chase] Don't mention this to anyone.

Chase: Well, so what was the point?

[Wilson puts his fingers to his lips in a “shushing” motion as he opens the door and backs out of the office.]

[Cut to OR prep.]

Frankie: Are you gonna be here when I wake up? [Taylor steps over and strokes her hair.] I hate that you don't have a blog. I hate that I don't know what you're thinking.

Taylor: Let's not get into it right now. We need to get you through surgery.

Frankie: I don't want to go in there knowing that you'll stick with me through surgery 'cause that's what good guys do, but once I'm better, you'll be gone.

Taylor: Let's not get into it now.

[Frankie recoils and doubles up in pain.]

Frankie: It hurts. [Foreman, a surgeon and a nurse rush over.]

Surgeon: Is it her heart?

Frankie: No, it's here. [She points to the right side of her abdomen.] Here. [She screams, leans over the side of the bed and vomits clear liquid.]

Foreman: Get her inside.

[More staff appear as they start wheeling her toward the ER.]

[Cut to post-op. Chase and Foreman are there. Taylor sits next to Frankie’s bed.]

Chase: Your appendix burst. We had to remove it.

Foreman: And the biopsy confirms it was full of abnormal cells consistent with lymphoma.

Frankie: I have cancer?

Foreman: We've postponed putting in the new valve.

Frankie: So I mean, I guess we do, what, chemo and all that stuff?

Chase: Yes, but apparently you've had this for some time. When your appendix burst, it was like a dam giving way. The cells went streaming throughout your body.

Frankie: So you're saying you'll treat, but you don't expect it to work. That's why no valve. It's pointless.

Foreman: Our dean of medicine has approved an experimental treatment. We use your unique cancer cell signature to create a targeted lymphoma vaccine.

Frankie: Okay, so that'll cure me?

Chase: Well, we're not actually sure what it'll do, but the intention is to train your immune system to recognize and k*ll cells bearing the same malignant signature while leaving healthy cells alone. But, as Dr. Foreman says, it's experimental.

Frankie: I see.

Taylor: So without it, what kind of time are we talking about?

Chase: An exact prognosis is impossible.

Taylor: Well, how about a guess? Something, please.

Foreman: Based on people in situations like yours... maybe a year.

Taylor: Baby, whatever we have to do, we'll do. I can take care of you. I can work from home.

Frankie: [to Chase and Foreman] Sounds good. Thank you for letting me know. We'll start with the treatment whenever it's ready.

[Cut to Chase and Foreman leaving the room and walking down the hall.]

Chase: Is she being a good soldier, or is she in denial?

Foreman: Denial's not unusual for a first reaction.

Chase: Or it could be a symptom. Some lymphomas affect cognition.

Foreman: If it is denial, she needs time to process. If it's a symptom, hopefully treatment with the vaccine will help.

[Foreman walks off. Chase turns and sees Wilson’s assistant behind the desk at the nurses’ station.]

Chase: Hey, Sandy. [She looks up, smiles, then looks back at the computer screen.] Can I borrow your car? [She looks at him.]

[Cut to the lab.]

Chase: She gave me the keys.

Thirteen: You're a doctor. She was doing you a favor.

Chase: She barely knows me. I've been deluding myself that I'm actually connecting with people.

Thirteen: The first person I ever fell in love with turned out to be a total tool. I mean, he came across all funny and charming and thoughtful, but it was an act. He saw something he wanted, and he knew he had to behave a certain way to get it. In retrospect, the fact that I was 17 and he was 30 should have been a clue. Figuring out who people are takes time. It takes twice as much time if they're trying to impress you. Now I could take from this that anyone who loans me their car has an ulterior motive, or I can accept that it's just a nice thing to do and take people as they come. [pause] You wanna do the first injection?

[Cut to the living room. Wilson is on the orange couch, reading. The front door opens and shuts. Wilson looks up. He stands as House enters and tosses his backpack. Wilson displays the spine of the book he’s reading.]

Wilson: Why are you reading a book by a Unitarian minister?

House: Book club. Oprah was going on and on... [He grabs an almost empty half-gallon of milk from the refrigerator.]

Wilson: I'm serious. This–this is messed up.

House: Patient wrote it. [He smells the milk.]

Wilson: No, you've never treated a patient with this name. I looked it up.

House: [finally serious.] It's an assignment from my therapist.

Wilson: No, it wasn't. No one you respect would give you this and expect it to be helpful.

House: It's a book!

Wilson: Of sermons. For anyone else, spiritually enlightening. For you, it's practically a psychotic break. [House drinks the milk straight from the carton and tosses it. He leans heavily on the counter.] I know that you have trouble sometimes with the pain without the Vicodin – is that it? Are you so out of options, you're looking for answers in what you consider irrationality?

House: I'm all right. Trust me.

Wilson: Are you all right because you're back on Vicodin?

House: I said, "trust me."

Wilson: I know this means something. [He waves the book.]

House: Do you mind? I haven't finished it yet. [He takes the book and heads down the hall.]

[Cut to the conference room the next morning. House enters. Foreman and Taub are at the table, reading copies of the book. Chase is leaning against the wall behind Foreman. He has a closed copy in his hand.]

Taub: Thanks for the gift. Obviously differs from my own personal beliefs, but if these stories have helped you through some spiritual turmoil –

House: Read chapter six, entitled "shut the hell up."

Foreman: I appreciated the inscription about the benefits of prayer before medical treatments. And I think it's great that you have been called to witness by the Lord.

House: Chapter two, "bite me."

Chase: [oozing smarm] Hi. Thirteen's giving our patient her third vaccine injection. She's responding well so far.

House: Where'd you get all these copies? It's out of print.

Chase: I called the author. He's got cartons of the thing in his basement.

House: You called him? What'd you say?

Chase: That I knew some people who could benefit spiritually from the book.

House: Did you mention me?

Chase: [puzzled] No, but –

[Everyone’s pagers go off.]

[Cut to Frankie’s room. The monitor alarms are going off.]

Thirteen: [packing ice around Frankie] Fever's at 104. The antibodies tripped her autoimmune response. The vaccine is k*lling her.

[Cut to Cuddy’s office. House and the whole team is there.]

Cuddy: Well, clearly it's not working. You have to stop the vaccine.

House: Sure. Give up. Let her die on schedule.

Cuddy: It's better than speeding up the schedule. How quickly did this come on?

Thirteen: She was all right when I woke her this afternoon to give her the second injection.

Cuddy: Of the stimulating agent, which, added to the first injection, switched her immune reaction into overdrive.

House: Why was she sleeping? Who can sleep in a hospital during the daytime?

Chase: I'm not surprised she's tired. She's always been a night owl. Just by treating her, we've completely disrupted her schedule.

House: Is that what her blog says? She's a night owl?

Chase: No, she told me.

House: In what tense? Is? Was? Will have been?

Chase: I'm not sure.

Cuddy: What are you onto?

House: [checking the blog on Cuddy’s computer] Look at the time stamp on this post. 2:30 A.M. Here's one at 4:00 A.M.

Foreman: Whatever he's onto doesn't change the fact that she has lymphoma and we gave her a dangerous vaccine. We need to –

House: Six months ago, she's posting in the daytime. Two years ago, daytime. That's her natural rhythm.

Taub: Day-night reversal.

Chase: Sign of liver disease?

House: Which doesn't fit lymphoma.

Taub: But we know she has lymphoma.

House: We know she has the cell atypia that indicates lymphoma. Biopsy her liver. [The team leaves. House turns to Cuddy.] That was pretty cool what I did, right? You wanna make out?

[Cut to Frankie’s room.]

Chase: You don't have lymphoma.

Frankie: But you said my appendix was full of cancer cells.

Foreman: your appendix was full of cells that showed a lymphocytic atypia. We now think they were a granulomatous buildup from some unknown cause.

Frankie: So... I'm not dying?

Chase: You're actually dying more quickly than we thought.

Foreman: Unless we figure out what's causing your liver failure... You have three or four days.

[Frankie’s mouth moves but nothing comes out. She tries again. On the third try…]

Frankie: What the hell do you mean I have three or four days?

[Chase and Foreman open the door to leave.]

Foreman: Well, we're past denial.

[Frankie is crying, curled up against Taylor, who holds her and strokes her head.]

[Cut to Diagnostics.]

Foreman: Maybe we didn't cause the fever.

Taub: We gave her the vaccine, and her fever spiked. Seems to me –

Foreman: Yes, but it persisted after we took her off the vaccine. What if it's a new symptom?

House: Okay. So we add fever to cell atypia, coagulopathy, kidney, heart, liver...

Taub: It has to be an infection.

Thirteen: But which one? No one she knows is sick. She hasn't traveled anywhere. There's nothing in the history she gave us. Nothing in her blog.

House: There has to be something unique to this infection. Something about its transmission and the way it manifests. There has to be something she's not telling us.

Chase: There isn't. She's told us, and everyone else, everything.

House: Start her on broad-spectrum antibiotics. [They gape at him, unbelieving.] Since we know everything, we might as well treat for everything.

[JJ Grey and Mofro's “The Sun is Shining Down” plays as House reads the blog, paces, plays with his cane and bally and rereads the blog.]

♪ All those simple thoughts

♪ All those peaceful dreams

♪ Share the space

♪ With a hard-worked, hard-worked day

♪ Glory, glory

♪ Hallelujah

♪ The sun is shining

♪ Shining down

[House is in front of his computer. His hands are together, under his mouth, in the traditional prayer pose. The door opens.]

Wilson: I picked up one of the copies of the book that Chase left in the lounge.

House: If you're gonna be this way, I'm not gonna invite you to my baptism.

Wilson: First time I'd seen the real dust jacket. The inside back flap, there’s a picture of the author. Imagine how surprised I was when I recognized him. Your biological father is a minister?

House: Natural selection is not an infallible force.

Wilson: I don't get it. I mean, okay, he was a friend of the family. You'd only known him when you were a kid. But if you wanted to meet him now, get an idea of what he's like, why not just go talk to him?

House: "Hi, it's Greg. You slept with my mother."

Wilson: You're capable of it.

House: I was mildly curious. Enough to read a book, not enough to make a phone call.

Wilson: Please. You didn't read this. You studied it. Why? All your life, you've thought this [waves the book] was crap. You can't suddenly turn around and-and build a whole new worldview based on crap.

House: [As Wilson talks, House has his epiphany.] Crap. [He gets up and heads to the door.]

Wilson: You better not be faking this just to get out of a tough conversation.

[Cut to Frankie’s room. House enters.]

House: Do you poop? [Frankie looks at Thirteen who looks at House.] Come on. Everybody poops. I read the book in medical school. Sinkers or floaters?

Chase: This is the wizard.

[Frankie nods that she understands.]

House: Greasy and soft or hard and pellet-like?

Frankie: Um... Floaters and the first one.

House: You just had to be so swoft. You're a hypocrite. No lies, no secrets, but everything stops at your colon. 4,000 pages, not one word about BMs. And I bet yours don't smell at all.

Frankie: Nobody wants to hear about that stuff.

House: Readers don't. People who don't really care about you don't. But doctors might. The icky stuff changed, right, a few months ago?

Frankie: Well, I became a vegetarian.

House: A lot of people misunderstand how a vegetarian diet works. You take in less unusable material, and your waste gets more efficient. Harder and rounder. Just look at the feces of rabbits. Seriously. I think I might have some… [He starts to look in his pocket.]

Thirteen: Malabsorption. Her system's not retaining the necessary nutrients.

House: A G.I. Infection causes malabsorption, granulomatous buildup of cells. It's not contagious since no one around her got sick –

Chase and Thirteen: Whipple's disease.

House: [looking from one to the other] Let's split the credit. Start her on co-trimoxazole. [to Frankie] We all need some secrets. As long as they don't k*ll us, they keep us safe and warm.

[House leaves, sliding the door closed behind him.]

Frankie: I'm... I'm gonna be okay?

Chase: You'll still need a new heart valve, and you'll be on meds for a few years, but basically, yeah. Your odds are good.

[As Chase and Thirteen leave, she sighs and throws her head back against the pillow. Taylor comes over to hug her. The kiss twice.]

Taylor: Thank God.

Frankie: I think I wanna go with the pig valve.

Taylor: [handing her the laptop] I know you'll go crazy if you don't tell people.

Frankie: Thank God you're an enabler.

[Cut to the locker room. Chase and Thirteen are putting on their coats. Lochloosa by Mofro plays in the background.]

Chase: Do you think people can actually know each other better on the Internet than face-to-face?

Thirteen: Faces can be distracting, but there's nothing better than looking into someone's eyes and, well, everything that goes with that.

Chase: I don't know. People meet, they like something superficial, and then they fill in the blanks with whatever they want to believe.

Thirteen: Why are you so hung up on this? I refuse to believe it's all because you just noticed you have a nice face. You just came off a relationship. You know things go deeper than... Is that what this is about? You and Cameron?

Chase: I was the one that pursued her. Maybe I was just filling in the banks. Maybe... maybe the first reaction was right. We were just two people who were in proximity and found each other attractive, and I ne - I never should have...

Thirteen: Paranoia. You felt something real. So did she. Don't try to take it back now.

[Chase stands, thinking, with his head down. As Thirteen heads for the door he looks up.]

Chase: Can I borrow your car?

Thirteen: [smiling] No.

[He smiles and follows her out of the locker room.]

[Cut to House pushing the button for the elevator. Wilson joins him]

Wilson: Why would it make more sense for you to read your father's book than to go talk with him?

House: Can you write a book? So I can stop talking to you?

[They get in the elevator]

Wilson: You weren't looking for some big catharsis. You didn't want to hug the guy. You just wanted to know how his head works. How he thinks.

House: 'Cause I'm fascinated with how ministers think.

Wilson: Because you're not ordinary, House. You're way out there on the fringe somewhere. I'm your best friend, and half the time, I don't understand you. You're alone. Been alone your whole life.

[They start across the lobby.]

Wilson: When you read that book, you were hoping that somewhere, underneath all that talk of God, there would be a way of thinking, a mind that you could recognize. You wanted what we all want.

House: The power to transform into any water-based object?

Wilson: To look across the gulf and know there's someone else like you. At least tell me this – did you find something there?

[They step outside. It’s snowing. House buttons his coat.]

House: Underneath the God stuff... More God stuff.

[They walk off. Behind them, Cuddy crosses the lobby. Without looking up, she points above her.]

Cuddy: Get maintenance to take that down.

[Above the main entrance, a poster covers most of the mural. It’s Wilson, dancing around the f*re with his antlers on. In large letters, the poster says “He was a wild love-god in a world grown too tame.”]
{"type": "series", "show": "House", "episode": "06x15 - Private Lives"}