06x13 - Moving the Chains

[bunniefuu]

[Open on a football stadium. The stands are empty but there are players on the field. “Rocket Science” by Teddybears plays as the camera focuses on No. 77, Daryl. He is massive.]

[Up in the stands there are half a dozen men watching the skirmish. Glenda takes a seat next to one of them.]

[Back on the field, No. 77 goes into a crouch. He stands and moves forward, driving one of those big, padded weight things forward several feet before picking it up and carrying it further.]

Coach: Good expl*si*n! Drive it! [Daryl begins grunting as the coach continues in the background.] Drive it! Drive it!

[Cut to the stands, intercut with the skirmish on the field.]

Glenda: You watching 77?

Scout: I'm watching everybody.

Glenda: You don't need to watch everybody. You need to watch 77.

Scout: You his agent?

Glenda: Just an objective mom.

Scout: His expl*si*n is impressive.

Glenda: It's not just burst. He can pull too. You know, the only reason he went to a Double A school, he was a bit of a late bloomer. He's a big man now.

Scout: You should be his agent.

Coach: Nice pancake, 7-7! You're moving up those draft boards!

Daryl: Thank you, sir!

Quarterback: [in a huddle] On one, on one. Ready?

All: Break!

Quarterback: Blue 90. Hike!

[Daryl hikes the ball to the quarterback. He blocks one player, pushing him out of the way.]

Coach: Good job!

Another Coach: [voice over] Second level, nice!

[The action has stopped. Several players haven’t bothered to stand up yet. Daryl grabs No. 42 and tosses him aside.]

Daryl: Get off my quarterback!

[42 stands up and Daryl head butts him with his helmet on. Another player grabs him by the arm and he tosses the guy away. There’s a lot of shouting and confusion as Daryl starts taking off his helmet.]

Coach: [blowing his whistle] Play's over! The play is over!

[42 is still on the ground. Glenda stands, watching, as Daryl grabs 42’s facemask and starts pulling him along the ground. 42 manages to get his helmet off. Daryl walks away with the helmet in his hand.]

Coach: Save the aggression for between the whistles!

Glenda: [quietly, concerned] Daryl.

Coach: All right, back to work!

[Daryl takes the helmet and smashes himself in the forehead with it, grunting.]

Glenda: [coming down the stairs] Daryl.

[Daryl continues to hit himself in the head, hard.]

Glenda: [yelling] Daryl, stop!

[Daryl’s forehead is a bloody mess.]

[Opening credits]

[Cut to Wilson getting out of bed. He throws the covers off and stands up. House can be heard singing, somewhere in the distance. Wilson looks puzzled then he pushes the bathroom door open. House is in the tub. It’s huge. All that can be seen is his head.]

Wilson: What are you doing?

House: Canoeing. But I seem to be taking on water.

Wilson: This is not okay. Use your own bathroom.

House: No canoe in my bathroom. [deep breath] My leg hurts. Soaking it makes it feel better. You were the one who had to have this condo. Maybe next time you should consider amenities, like two full baths, instead of just the joy of outbidding Cuddy.

Wilson: The guy who signs the loan gets to pick the bedrooms. Stay out of mine.

House: Well then, you owe me 35 bucks for the grab rail I installed.

[Cut to Diagnostics. The team is watching the computer. From the grunts and groans, it’s a video of Daryl hitting himself. Foreman’s ignoring it and them. House enters.]

House: Hit the k*ll screen. Boss is here.

Taub: It's not p*rn. It's our new patient.

House: Bummer.

Thirteen: 22-year-old male – 6'7", 310 pounds. Clearly has brain involvement. [looking at the video of Daryl hitting himself] The guy has no recollection of this entire incident.

House: Football player. Those are the ones that get hit in the head a lot, right?

Chase: ER CT'd him. No concussion, no stroke, no cortical degeneration.

Taub: And he had a full psych evaluation. He's not crazy.

House: So it's roid rage. You don't think they grow them that big naturally.

Foreman: ER also tested for steroids. He's clean.

House: Only proving that our guy got his hands on the good stuff.

Foreman: The negative test at least means steroids is less likely. We should discuss other possibilities.

House: Why? He injects his sore ankles with lidocaine every game. You think he's above injecting steroids?

Foreman: Repeated head trauma could damage the base of the brain, leading to a pituitary adenoma, which leaks GnRH.

Thirteen: Pituitary damage wouldn't be visible on a CT scan.

Chase: Could cause the excess hormones that could cause the rage and would elude the ER Steroid test.

House: Fine. Bilateral venous sampling to find the elevated GnRH. MRI to find the pituitary damage. [The team starts to stand.] Unless, of course, there is no pituitary damage, in which case, our guy got his hands on the good stuff.

[House blocks Thirteen’s exit. She finally gets around him and heads for the door. Foreman is the last one leaving.]

House: Foreman. Let the peasants handle the peasantry. Your brother needs to get picked up this afternoon... from prison. Your older brother, in case your confusion is related –

Foreman: How do you know about that?

House: He left a message. Said he couldn't get you on your cell or at home. I get it. You're busy. You'll pick him up the next time he comes out of prison.

Foreman: Is that all?

House: You're officially unbusy. Family is family. Take the rest of the day. Go see your brother.

Foreman: I have work to do.

[Cut to Daryl’s room. Taub is taking his history. He doesn’t reach Daryl’s shoulder.]

Taub: Do you feel any pain that's deep and persistent, not just muscles or joints?

Daryl: Everything hurts all the time. That's football.

[Daryl sits on the bed. Taub is still shorter than he is.]

Taub: It might not be just football. We're gonna test for damage to your pituitary. If there is, it could create excess hormones, which could be causing your pain. It would also explain your rage att*ck.

Daryl: And if my pituitary is damaged, how long would it take to treat?

Taub: I don't want to get ahead of ourselves and start promising deadlines.

Glenda: I-I'm sorry, doctor, but he's playing in front of pro scouts, coaches, and GMs this Saturday. This is the job interview for the rest of his life.

Taub: If we do find something wrong, we can go in through the nose and repair the damage – nothing too invasive. You'll need a couple days of recovery, and then we can have you back by game time.

[Daryl and Glenda smile.]

Daryl: Thank you, doctor.

[Cut to the Clinic. House is examining Jim Dunnagan.]

House: There's nothing wrong with your eyes.

Jim: Well, then your gizmo's broken. I'm seeing spots.

House: Or you enlisted, you got the cool haircut and the awesome pants, then you realized that your plane ticket to the Middle East was coach, and you decided to rethink your promise.

Jim: No. I've already been there – three deployments. Now they want me to go again. But my wife's pregnant.

House: So our homeland should be unsafe because your private was unsafe.

Jim: Look, my wife and I planned this perfect. My enlistment was supposed to be over last week, so we got pregnant six months ago. Now they tell me I'm getting stop-lossed – Army speak for they don't care about the fact that I've already finished my contract.

House: I don't care about the fact that they don't care. [going to the door]

Jim: Hey, come on. I waited an extra hour just to make sure I got you.

House: Why?

Jim: I saw you limping out there. Vietnam?

House: Viet?!? How old do you think I am?

Jim: I don't know, Vietnam age?

House: Well, back in my day, the real dodgers had the stones to run up to Canada or sh**t themselves in the foot. They didn't come to free clinics whining for doctors' notes. Go hug your wife. Tell her to get a babysitter. You'll be back in time to video the kid's first steps.

[He leaves.]

[Cut to the clinic desk area. Taub is waiting for House, scan in hand.]

House: I don't need to see the scan. I can tell from your little puppy-dog eyes that his pituitary's fine. Are you gonna say it, or should I?

Taub: [with heartfelt insincerity] You were right about the steroids. You're a genius.

House: Next time with feeling. Put the cheater on a somatostatin analog to clear it out of his system. Send him back to his football game.

[Cut to Daryl’s room. Taub is injecting his IV port.]

Daryl: I've never done steroids.

Taub: Well, somehow your GnRH got elevated. This will help get it back down.

Daryl: Mom, I swear.

Glenda: Who's gonna draft you, Daryl? You're stupid enough to try that stuff, especially the week you know you're getting tested.

Daryl: You guys must've mixed up your labs or got somebody else's blood, because I’ve never –

[Daryl’s monitor starts beeping rapidly.]

Glenda: Okay, what is that?

Taub: Tachycardia. Lay back down, Daryl.

Daryl: [having trouble breathing] Why's my heart b*ating like this?

Taub: It's not steroids. [yelling for a nurse] I need some adenosine! And get that crash cart over here!

Daryl: [holding his chest.] Oh. Oh.

[Cut to House’s office. Foreman walks in. House is talking to someone who turns around as Foreman starts to speak.]

Foreman: House, next time – Marcus.

House: Oh, right. You two know each other.

Foreman: What are you doing here?

Marcus: Uh, interviewing.

House: Oh! Who are we kidding? Interview's over. You got the job.

[He reaches out his hand. Marcus takes it and they shake on it.]

Foreman: What job?

House: My new assistant. Part of his parole – he needs a job. Just trying to do my part.

Foreman: You were wrong about the steroids. Patient had a paroxysmal tachycardia. We cardioverted him back to sinus rhythm. We're gonna get an EKG and a sestamibi scan. Marcus... let's talk outside.

[Marcus nods slightly and looks at House.]

House: Family is family. [He nods for Marcus to go with Foreman.]

[Cut to the hallway. Foreman, looking furious, is partway down the hall as Marcus comes out of House’s office. He follows Foreman down the hall, taking both his and Foreman’s parts in the conversation.]

Marcus: Hey. Good to see you too. Did you have a hard stretch? No, not bad. I hardly got r*ped at all.

[Foreman turns a corner and Marcus catches up. Foreman pushes him lightly against the wall.]

Foreman: You can't work here.

Marcus: Well, your boss says I can.

Foreman: I'm not playing.

Marcus: Lighten up. Man, this could be fun. I get to see your world. You get me access to the pharmacy. [Foreman glares.] I am playing. Come on, man. You look good. I'd already know that if you came to visit every once in a while, but whatever, I get it. It–it's cool. You don't want to see me. You don't want to pick me up. It's all justified. I'll just have to win you back over.

Foreman: Let me explain something. This man who's offering you the job – he's not a philanthropist.

Marcus: He seems more helpful than you.

Foreman: He doesn't want to help you. He only wants to use you to screw with me.

Marcus: You know how you can screw with him? Act like your brother getting a job doesn't screw with you.

Foreman: Trust me, it'll be better for both of us if you go back in there and tell him you can't take the job.

Marcus: I'm not a person who has the luxury of turning down jobs.

Foreman: Well, figure something out... 'cause you cannot work here.

[Cut to Wilson’s bathroom. He wanders in wearing a t-shirt and PJ bottoms. He grunts slightly as he faces the medicine cabinet and rubs his eyes. He turns toward the tub and jumps.]

Wilson: Oh!

[There’s a possum in the tub. It hisses.]

Wilson: Ho-wah!

[The possum hisses]

Wilson: House!

[The possum hisses]

Wilson: [running out of the bathroom] Okay. Oh! Oh!

[Cut to Diagnostics. The whole team is there.]

Taub: We spent all night, used all the fancy machines. Patient's heart looks fine.

House: Well, if it was fine, it wouldn't go aflutter just 'cause you walked into the room.

[The door opens. Marcus enters carrying an iced coffee concoction.]

Marcus: Light whip, two extra sh*ts.

House: Thank you, sir. [to Foreman] Judging by the look on your face, I assume you're upset that big bro didn't take your advice and skip town.

Foreman: You told him about our conversation?

Marcus: [leaning against the wall] He bought me breakfast.

House: It was fun. [to Marcus] Put lunch in the books, just you and me.

Foreman: Our patient could have a PFO.

House: Well, naturally, you jump right to a urinary issue.

Foreman: PFO's not urinary. It's a heart issue.

House: It is? Hmm. Well, naturally, you think it's not a urinary issue, 'cause you're so embarrassed about your own past urinary issues, you don't dare broach the subject. [He takes a sip of his drink while Foreman stares at him, silently.] Oh, come on. You spending the night over at Bobby Samson's.

Foreman: [sighs] I did not wet the bed. I spilled a drink.

[The others, who have been watching them, start smiling.]

House: We're not buying it, Eric. We never bought it.

Foreman: Why are you telling him these things?

Marcus: [laughing] What's the big deal? It was 25 years ago.

Foreman: Oxygenated and deoxygenated blood mix, the rough flow causes a clot, explains the heart and head.

Marcus: Like that power forward from Loyola Marymount, when he, um...

Foreman: Hank Gathers? That's not what happened to him.

House: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let your brother speak. What happened to Hank Gathers?

Marcus: Conference tournament – Alley-oop dunk, jams it home. Then he runs up the court and splat. He dropped dead of a heart thing right there on the court.

Taub: I remember that.

On autopsy, they found he had a hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.

House: Rage and tachycardia are warning signs.

Foreman: [laughing, humorlessly] Seriously? Because my brother remembers a basketball game?

House: Hey, I don't care where an idea comes from, as long as it makes sense and embarrasses someone.

[The door opens. Wilson comes in, wearing his coat.]

Wilson: Are you out of your mind?

House: As a former psychiatric patient, I take offense at that terminology.

Wilson: All I did was ban you from my tub. Whatever happened to proportional response?

House: Whatever happened to coherent conversation?

Wilson: That... thing... broke tiles, gashed the walls, and pooped everywhere. Expect a bill for repairs... And payback.

[House stares at him, completely confused, as Wilson leaves.]

Chase: [conspiratorially] What was that?

House: I have no idea. Everybody else thinks hypertrophic cardiomyopathy makes sense? [Foreman opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything.] Good. Stick the patient on a treadmill. Stress his heart until it stops.

Thirteen: You want to induce cardiac arrest?

House: Only real treatment is for the patient never to stress his heart again, which means we have to tell him to retire at the ripe old age of 21. Stopping his heart speaks louder than words. Go.

[Cut to Cuddy’s office.]

Cuddy: Maybe it's a good thing. He gave your brother a job, responsibility.

Foreman: I'm not arguing that he shouldn't have a job. I just don't want him having one here.

Cuddy: I understand that House did this to annoy you. But why is he succeeding?

Foreman: [sighs and sits down] you know what my brother did the last time he got out of prison? He stole money from my parents to buy dr*gs. He robbed a liquor store. Then he moved on to jacking luxury cars –

Cuddy: Last time.

Foreman: Every time. I've known my brother for over 30 years. You haven't even known him a day.

Cuddy: I'm sorry.

[Cut to House’s office. Wilson enters.]

Wilson: The exterminator charged $250 to get the opossum out of there, and the contractor estimates $1,500 to fix the bathroom. And why are you jerking Foreman around?

[Marcus is in the conference room, cleaning off the white board.]

House: Because it's fun. Maybe you should give those bills to the guy who left his own bathroom window open.

Wilson: Your motives always run deeper than simple fun.

House: I want to learn more about one of my employees so that I can manipulate him and destroy him if and when I choose. Information is power.

Wilson: Not buying it.

House: Okay. Why don't you tell me my real evil plan?

Wilson: I don't think there is an evil plan. You regret not having a relationship with your own family, and you don't want to see Foreman go down that same path. I think you're actually… being nice.

House: Oh, shut up. You can't accuse me of an opossum att*ck and underhanded kindness in the same visit.

Wilson: Then I'll come back.

[The door opens. Chase and Taub enter.]

Chase: Treadmill test was a bust. The guy's in unbelievable shape. We couldn't get his heart rate above 150.

Wilson: [on his way out] Your boss is secretly a very nice man.

[Chase looks puzzled.]

Taub: I know.

Chase: If we can't re-create the cardiac event, we can't prove hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.

House: Either we find a bigger treadmill... or... [grabs his jacket and leaves]

[Cut to Daryl’s room. House slides the door open and enters. Daryl is dressed and standing up.]

House: Did I miss the memo about you being released?

Daryl: I'm feeling fine. I can't keep laying here in this bed missing practices.

House: All excellent points. Give me your arm.

Glenda: What's in the sh*t?

House: It's a vasodilator. Since we can't exercise your son's heart on the treadmill, I'm gonna have to do it chemically.

[Daryl sits on his bed. House takes his hand in preparation for the injection. Daryl’s palms are grayish. House grabs the other hand, which looks the same.]

Daryl: What's wrong?

House: You're turning white.

Glenda: What does that mean?

House: It means he doesn't need football to get a good job anymore.

[Cut to Diagnostics.]

Taub: Raynaud's phenomenon – Vasospasms cut off the blood supply to his fingers. Could be early onset rheumatoid arthritis.

Foreman: Rheumatoid factor is negative.

Thirteen: Arterial plaque throwing clots would explain the fingers, head, heart.

House: You really think a guy with stenosis could've aced that treadmill test?

[Foreman sees Marcus and some maintenance guys in House’s office.]

Foreman: You're kidding me. You got him a desk?

House: [turning to look] And a nameplate. Man's got to have a place he can call his own.

Chase: What about Takayasu's arteritis?

Foreman: Lymphoma's a better fit. We should remove his spleen.

Chase: Bold move to skip straight to surgery.

Foreman: His big game's coming up. We don't have time to biopsy, wait for the pathology report, and resect.

Chase: Right. We should remove his spleen without confirmation so he won't miss the big game.

House: Hang an ethanol drip.

Foreman: That won't treat for either lymphoma or Takayasu's.

House: If it's lymphoma, the ethanol will make him itchy, and Foreman can remove his spleen. If it's Takayasu's, he'll lose his radial pulse, and Chase can start him on steroids.

[The team leaves.]

House: [hollers] Marcus!

[Cut to the nurses station outside Daryl’s room. Foreman and Thirteen approach Daryl’s room from one direction and see Marcus who is approaching from the other side.]

Foreman: What are you doing here?

Marcus: My new assignment is to shadow you in enemy territory and document your every word to the patient. [He shows the small recorder he’s holding.] Just don't say anything stupid.

[Thirteen shows some tact by going into Daryl’s room.]

Foreman: You're not an idiot. Don't do this.

Marcus: Come on, man. I'm a new person now – no more dr*gs, no more lying. And if I can't get my own family to give me an opportunity to prove that, then what's the point?

Foreman: Mom and Dad gave you a chance and a second and a third. I'm not about to give you a 54th.

[Foreman enters the room. Thirteen looks at Marcus then goes back inside without saying anything. Marcus follows them in, recorder at the ready and closes the door behind him.]

[Cut to the cafeteria. House is there, Wilson approaches.]

Wilson: Why isn't your minion fetching your lunch?

House: He's busy spying on his little brother.

[Wilson chuckles.]

House: What?

Wilson: That's very demeaning.

House: You obviously have a theory as to why demeaning is not demeaning.

Wilson: You're escalating to prove I was wrong about you being nice, which you would only do if I was right.

House: Do you even listen to yourself?

Cuddy: [approaching] 23-year-old just came into the E.R., asked for you.

House: What's her cup size?

Cuddy: I don't think his cup size is relevant to his condition. He accidentally sh*t himself in the foot.

[Cut to the ER. Jim is lying on a bed with his bloody foot on a pillow and his hands tucked behind his head. House shoves the curtain aside with his cane.]

House: [exasperated] Oh! Seriously? I give you a choice between moving to Canada and sh**ting yourself in the foot, and you chose the b*llet?

Jim: I didn't want to be a fugitive.

House: You think this is gonna get you discharged? We'll patch it up and send you right back.

Jim: Don't patch it up.

House: Look… You got screwed over by your own government, and that sucks. But all you're gonna get out of this is a five-day vacation and a band-aid.

Jim: When I signed up, I was just a guy. Now I'm about to be a dad. I go back over, there's a chance my kid grows up without a father.

House: You got a girl pregnant. You're still just a guy.

[He walks away.]

[Cut to Daryl’s room. Foreman is sitting by the door, reading “Medicine Today.”]

Daryl: How much longer we have to wait?

Foreman: We have to keep going until you start feeling something.

Daryl: Might help if, uh, you told me what I'm supposed to feel.

Foreman: If I do that, that's all you'll be thinking about. Then you'll be telling me that's what you're feeling. Power of suggestion.

Daryl: The other black dude who was in here earlier, he your brother?

Foreman: What gave it away?

Daryl: The way you looked at him. I have two older brothers, and we always want to k*ll each other.

[Foreman chuckles.]

Daryl: Oh. Mm.

Foreman: Something wrong?

Daryl: Not really. It just feels itchy. [He starts scratching. Foreman gets up and comes to the bed.] Is that what you're waiting for?

Foreman: Means lymphoma's most likely, but that's actually good news.

Daryl: How could that be good news?

Foreman: Because it's treatable. We can remove your spleen tonight laparoscopically.

Daryl: Will I be able to run by Saturday?

Foreman: We can get to the radiation in the off-season.

Daryl: [laughing] Hey, Ma. Wake up, Ma. Wake up. I'm itchy. Means I can play.

[Glenda, who was sleeping on the couch with a coat for a blanket, smiles.]

[Cut to the apartment. House is reading a magazine that looks like Anime. He rubs his leg. He drops the magazine and holds his thigh with both hands.]

[Cut to House lowering himself into Wilson’s tub.]

House: Ahh.

[Cut to House singing, wordlessly while soaping himself up and scrubbing his back with a brush.]

[Cut to him soaking with his head back and eyes closed. He opens his eyes and starts to get out of the tub. He grabs the edge of the tub with his right hand and the grab bar with his left. Just as he’s about to stand, the grab bar pulls free from the wall and he falls back in the tub. His left hand, still holding the grab bar, follows. He sits up and looks around. There is blood on the left side of his face and a large cut on his cheekbone.]

[Cut to the living room. House is stretched out on the ugly, orange sofa. He’s holding the grab bar and swinging it a bit. The front door opens. House lowers the bar so it is out of sight. Wilson walks in and does a huge double take when he sees House lying there.]

Wilson: Oh. [exhales] What are you doing in the dark?

House: Lying in wait. [He turns on the torchiere by his head.]

Wilson: Jeez. What happened to your face?

House: Right... Play innocent. Like you weren't looking for revenge for the prank that I didn't pull.

Wilson: It's karmic justice, but I didn't do it.

House: Of course you realize, this means w*r.

[He gets up, still holding the grab bar, and leaves.]

[Cut to the OR. Chase has two leads in his hands and he’s watching on a computer monitor.]

Chase: Isolating the gastroepiploic artery. [pause] Nearly there. [pause] Foreman, come and take a look at this.

Foreman: [looking at the monitor] Liver's inflamed. So the itching wasn't caused by his spleen.

Chase: It's not lymphoma.

[Cut to Diagnostics. House enters. The others are at the table.]

Thirteen: What happened to your face?

House: Wilson annexed the Sudetenland.

[House drops his backpack on a chair. In the office, Marcus picks up House’s iced coffee and comes in.]

Foreman: No abnormal "T" cells or "B" cells. It's definitely not lymphoma. Liver biopsy only revealed nonspecific inflammation.

House: [hanging up his coat and taking the drink from Marcus] Kind of like the time you took your mom's birth control pills on a dare and ended up with swollen nipples.

Foreman: That never happened.

House: Right, and your nickname all the way up through high school wasn't Erica.

Foreman: It wasn't.

[Thirteen and Taub are watching like it’s a tennis match, turning their heads in unison toward House and Foreman as they speak. They look at House for his return volley.]

Marcus: Okay, I may have made that one up, with the understanding that my brother still had a sense of humor and would figure out to play along.

Foreman: [not smiling] Polymyositis would explain the head, liver, heart, even the white fingers.

[House gives Marcus his backpack, which he takes into the office.]

House: It would also be accompanied by a significant decrease in muscle power. Marcus! A chance to redeem yourself. Does our patient look strong to you? [Marcus shrugs.] Sorry, Eric. Big brother disagrees with your diagnosis.

Chase: Felty syndrome?

House: You said the liver was inflamed, not the spleen. Can you believe they let this guy perform surgery?

[Taub raises his hand.]

House: What are you doing?

Taub: Requesting permission to share my idea without being belittled in front of your new assistant.

House: Permission denied. Continue.

Taub: [sighs] Our patient has cartilage damage in both ankles. He gets lidocaine sh*ts before every game to mask the pain. Team doctor uses the same needle twice by accident, viral hepatitis.

House: D’you think he's an idiot, Marcus?

Marcus: I don't think he's an idiot.

House: Okay. Go test his blood. [The team packs up to leave. House turns to Marcus.] Come on. We have a lunch scheduled.

[Cut to the cafeteria. Marcus sits in a booth opposite House.]

House: So, you jerked me around. Your allegiance lies with your brother. I get it. Admirable. But here's the problem. I hired you to tell me the truth. If you don't do that, you no longer have a job.

Marcus: I don't know what secret you're looking to uncover, but my brother is a decent guy.

House: He was arrested for grand theft auto.

Marcus: You're gonna be disappointed.

House: Try me.

Marcus: He tell you I was with him?

House: Was it your idea?

Marcus: We did everything together. I don't know whose idea it was. I was 16. He was only 14. Little punk couldn't even see over the steering wheel. He's quicker with a flathead screwdriver than most people with a key.

[They both look up as Foreman approaches.]

Foreman: Sorry to interrupt my character assassination with boring medical stuff, but when we drew the patient's blood, it clotted right there in the vacutainer.

House: So the problem is not in his blood, it's the blood itself.

Foreman: He's been working out in the cold doing two-a-days. It's got to be cryoglobulinemia.

House: I usually love breaking bad news. But in this case... start the patient on warfarin. [to Marcus, loudly as Foreman leaves, causing him to turn around and look] I'm so sorry about that. You were saying...

Marcus: We drove for about ten minutes before we got caught, and that was it. When our mom came down to the station, she didn't say a word the whole ride home. She came up to the driveway, turned off the car. We're sitting in there in silence. Then without turning around, she said, "I'll pray for you." And she got out of the car.

House: [listening intently] Wow. You got off easy.

Marcus: Easy for you, easy for me, not easy for Eric. His life mission became to never disappoint our mother like that again, because he is a good guy. I thought he would tell that story at the eulogy. But I heard he didn't give one.

House: Y–your mother's dead?

Marcus: If he didn't tell you, I'm sure he had a reason. Look, you can mock him all you want about peeing in the bed, but... please... don't bring up our mother.

[House thinks.]

[Cut to Daryl’s room. Foreman is sitting next to the bed. Glenda stands on the other side.]

Foreman: Your blood contains an abnormally high volume of certain proteins called cryoglobulins. They become thick when it gets cold outside. It's like a car trying to run after the oil's turned to sludge. We think that's what's been causing all your problems.

Daryl: So I just need a quick oil change and I'm good to go.

Foreman: This oil change isn't so quick. We have to put you on blood thinners and other medications. The process will take two to three weeks. But after that, you should be able to play without a problem.

Daryl: After that, it's not gonna matter.

Glenda: Doctor, if Daryl doesn't play in front of the scouts on Saturday, he won't get drafted. Can't you wait until after the game?

Foreman: If we wait and let him play, there's a good chance he dies right on the field.

[Glenda nods. She comforts Daryl while Foreman changes the IV.]

[Cut to Wilson’s office. He’s working. How opens the door and enters.]

House: I had an epiphany.

Wilson: Usually that precedes you walking away with purpose, so...

House: [closes the door] Flathead screwdriver.

Wilson: And then I say...?

House: It's not a game. It's proof that you didn't rig the grab rail and make me fall.

Wilson: I already have proof of that – The fact that I didn't do it.

House: I can't go on that. But I can go on the fact that I had to borrow a flathead screwdriver from Nora to install the thing, 'cause we only had a Phillips-head. And then, of course, I returned it late that night in a completely successful effort to see her braless...

Wilson: Whoa. Wait. Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

House: Which means that you didn't have the tool to sabotage the grab rail.

Wilson: Braless under, like, a sweater or, like, a – like, a –

House: Now I also have proof that I'm not responsible for the opossum, because I'm absolving you of responsibility instead of escalating, which you know is not my nature.

Wilson: So someone is breaking into our place just to screw with us?

House: [ominously] The opossum... was meant for me.

[Cut to the apartment. It’s dark and there’s no one there. But Wilson is speaking.]

Wilson: I'm so tired. It was exciting till about 2:00 A.M. Now it's just t*rture.

House: Did you even go to college?

[They’re sitting on the floor behind the kitchen island. House is holding a cricket bat, Wilson a flashlight.]

Wilson: This is the escalation, isn't it? Keeping me up all night, nothing happens, then you keep me up all night again tomorrow. This is your retaliation.

House: You see, that's just illogical, 'cause I'm staying up too.

Wilson: Maybe you napped all day.

House: I gave you empirical proof that I did not prank you.

Wilson: No. No, you did not. You created empirical proof that I didn't prank you, selling me on the notion that you didn't prank me. Maybe you self-pranked.

House: I don't master-prank.

Wilson: Is that cut on your cheek even real?

House: See, this is exactly what our nemesis wants – divide and conquer. Can't you see that?

Wilson: [getting up] Okay. I'm going to bed.

[He puts the flashlight on the counter and starts down the hall.]

House: I'm telling you, if you sleep now, you're gonna wake up next to severed horse heads. Or worse, the rest of it.

[Wilson turns into his bedroom and the fire alarm immediately beeps. The sprinklers turn on. This isn’t a gentle little sprinkle. It’s a deluge. Wilson comes running out.]

Wilson: Oh! House! [running back into the living room] The flat screen!

[Wilson grabs two little dishtowels from the kitchen island and tries to pat the television dry. House stands in the downpour.]

Wilson: Ah. Ah. [He gives up and looks at House.] You would never sacrifice the flat screen.

House: [smiling] Oh, this guy is good.

[Cut to the office. Cuddy is at the table, drumming her fingers. Taub and Foreman are in their usual seats. Thirteen is standing against the bookshelves and Chase is slumped in a chair by House’s office. They all look bored.]

Cuddy: [sighs] is there a reason for this?

[Bally bounces into the room. Cuddy leans over and scoops it up. House, speaking in an exaggerated French accent can be heard before he is seen entering from his office.]

House: Zer is a reason for everything, mes amis. I am tro-bled to report that we have a criminal in our midst.

Taub: Guilty of what exactly?

Wilson: [leaning against the kitchen area] Last night, the fire sprinklers flooded our apartment. And before that, I found an opossum in my bathtub.

House: [still “French”] You each had motive. You each had opportunity.

Cuddy: This is the emergency you paged me about? [She clears her throat and stands up.]

House: Not so fast, Mademoiselle Cuddy. No one leaves here until they can account for their whereabouts on the evening last.

Cuddy: [plopping bally on his chest] Bye.

House: [normal voice] Okay, no one who is employed by me leaves here until they account for their whereabouts the evening last. What about you, Professor Chase?

[Chase is at House’s desk. House tosses bally to him and he catches it.]

Chase: Why would I?

House: Because you hold me responsible for breaking up your marriage.

Chase: I was here all night with Thirteen, monitoring our patient's IV blood thinners. [He tosses bally back to House.]

House: Can either of you prove that?

Thirteen: The patient's alive and improving. Is that proof enough?

House: For now. What about you, Colonel Taub?

Taub: I was out to dinner with my wife.

House: Really? Your wife.

Taub: Yes, really.

House: Good enough. [to Foreman who is smirking] 'Cause I had you pegged all along. You certainly had all the motive in the world.

Foreman: First of all, I'm not interested. Second, I don't even know where you guys live.

House: Yesterday I confirmed that you are a liar.

Foreman: What are you talking about?

House: Well, at least a liar by omission.

Marcus: House! [House turns to look at him.] Don't.

House: Get this, class. Foreman's mom d*ed. He ever tell any of you?

Wilson: House, I think you're getting off topic here.

Thirteen: Is he serious? Did your mom pass away?

Foreman: About three months ago.

Thirteen: I'm so sorry.

Taub: Why didn't you tell anybody?

House: And to top it off, you refused to say anything nice about her at the funeral.

Foreman: I didn't talk because it isn't anyone's business.

Marcus: [jumping up] Stop. You don't have to explain yourself to this guy.

House: You want to hit me, don't you?

Foreman: Marcus, don't.

Marcus: I quit. [He takes his jacket and leaves.]

Thirteen: [to Foreman] You should stop him. He needs this job.

Foreman: Our patient needs a fresh IV [leaves]

[Cut to Daryl’s room. He’s dressed and Glenda is standing at the foot of the bed.]

Daryl: I don't need two or three weeks. See? Got my color back. [He shows Foreman his hand.]

Foreman: That means you're getting better. But it doesn't mean –

Daryl: It means I am better. My coach had the team doctor come by. He cleared me to play.

Foreman: Did your team doctor realize you're on blood thinners?

Daryl: [pulling out the IV] I'm off them now.

Foreman: You're still sick. You're not ready to go off your meds.

Glenda: Daryl, listen to him. It is not worth the risk.

Daryl: I'll come back on Sunday, Mom. You guys can give me all the meds I need then.

[He stands up and picks up his bag. Foreman, standing in front of him, reaches his shoulder.]

Foreman: The treatment doesn't work that way. [Daryl stands there. Foreman steps aside.]

Glenda: Please go with him.

[Cut to Jim’s room. House is unwrapping the bandage from his foot. It’s still bloody and the little toe is black. Jim grunts in pain.]

House: Antibiotics aren't working. We're gonna switch you to different ones, but you're gonna lose your toe.

Jim: [laughing] Outstanding, soldier.

House: As a general rule, before you celebrate, do a little research. The army's medical evaluation board is perfectly fine with nine-toed infantrymen, as long as they can walk and run.

Jim: So I lost a toe for nothing?

Hose: Afraid so. Unless you want me to keep you on the old antibiotics, let the infection spread, and we could amputate more than just a toe.

[Jim sinks back against his pillows with a sigh.]

[Cut to the tunnel leading from the dressing rooms to the stadium. Daryl is in uniform. Foreman is walking behind him.]

Foreman: Why are you risking your life for this? Your mom doesn't want you to.

Daryl: My mom sacrificed everything for me. Her telling me not to come here is just another example of that. I do good out there, I could take care of her for the rest of her life. Who am I if I don't sacrifice for her? That's family.

[He walks away, leaving Foreman to think about what he said. Near the end of the tunnel, Daryl slows down then gets down on one knee.]

Foreman: You okay?

Daryl: Everything's blurry. [Foreman comes up to him.] I can't see. Take me back to the hospital.

[Cut to the conference room. Foreman is on speakerphone.]

Taub: The blindness means we were wrong about his –

Foreman: Actually, I'm responsible for that. [He’s walking down a street, looking for an address he has on a piece of paper.] Spiked his water bottle with nitrates, dropped his blood pressure, robbed oxygen-rich blood from his brain, making him blind. Figured a temporarily blind patient is better than a permanently dead one. Vision was already coming back by the time I dropped him off at the hospital.

House: Well played. If only we could combine your medical chicanery with your brother's ability to fetch me mochas, you'd be the perfect Foreman. Where are you?

Foreman: I'm busy. [He hangs up.]

Taub: Great. So we don't have a new symptom.

Chase: Means we should just stick him back on his blood thinners, and he should be okay to leave in a couple weeks.

House: Actually, we do have a new symptom. Any of you take a look at his readmittance chart? Between the time he checked in and the time he rechecked in, our patient lost a single pound. Patient like that would usually shed over ten pounds.

Taub: The obvious answer would be steroids, but since we've already ruled them out...

Chase: So he's not injecting. But he could be getting them naturally – Paraneoplastic syndrome. The body produces antibodies, which battle cancer, which could also act like growth hormone.

House: We've eliminated lymphoma. What other cancers mimic growth hormone?

Taub: Lung, pancreatic, renal, breast –

House: It was a rhetorical question. I don't really care. Go test him for all of them.

[They leave.]

[Cut to a dingy hallway. Foreman knocks on a door. Marcus opens the door.]

Marcus: What are you doing here?

Foreman: You need a job. Maybe I can talk to House, see if I can get your job back.

Marcus: Soon as he knows you're okay with me being there, he won't want me back.

Foreman: Maybe I can help you figure out something else.

Marcus: I promise... I won't let you down.

Foreman: Don't do that. Let's just... See how it goes. [Marcus nods slightly.] So, uh, do they mandate you to stay here at the halfway house? Or… can you come stay with family?

[Near tears, Marcus steps forward and hugs Foreman who hugs back.]

[Cut to the cafeteria. Wilson and House are walking to the tables carrying full trays.]

House: It's Foreman.

Wilson: Well, it should stop now that Marcus left.

House: Well, that's the whole point –

[He trips. His tray goes flying and he lands stretched out on the floor. He shifts onto his side and looks behind him. A man who was reading a newspaper at a table they passed turns around. It’s Lucas.]

Lucas: Oh, I'm sorry. Was my leg sticking out? I'm so distracted lately, trying to think of something funnier than fire sprinklers going off in the middle of the night. Any ideas?

[House stands up and holds his cane like it’s a club.]

Lucas: Whoa, easy there, tiger. I know where you live. You know how I know? [fake laughing] 'Cause my girlfriend and I – we tried to buy that very same condo.

House: Why don't you leave me out of this? Wilson was the one who bought the place.

Lucas: And you're living there. You... deserve to suffer equally.

House: Actually, I suffered more now that you just tripped me.

Wilson: Hey, hey, I-I-I'm –

Lucas: His suffering will equal out, 'cause he actually feels remorse.

House: Why would you out yourself? You can't even imagine the retribution.

Lucas: [standing] Oh, there won't be any. I am ceasing all offensive operations. I have both made my point and established my superiority. And if you even get to the planning stages of retaliation, I will tell Cuddy that she lost her dream place to you two. See, she's under this odd impression that you guys are her friends.

[House and Wilson look, if not guilty, uncomfortable. Lucas leaves.]

[Cut to the hall. House, limping more than usual, walks to the lab. The whole team is in there.]

Chase: There's no cancer. We scanned him head to toe. We checked blood smears for leukemia. We even ultrasounded his chest looking for breast cancer.

House: Maybe I was wrong about the weight loss.

Taub: You weren't wrong – we found blood in his catheter bag. His kidneys are failing.

Thirteen: So it has to be cancer. Paraneoplastic syndrome is the only thing that can link kidney, heart, and liver – even the rage.

Foreman: Why can't we find it? We've looked everywhere inside this guy.

House: What if it's not inside?

[Cut to Daryl’s room. He’s watching the game on TV.]

House: You know why you're black?

Daryl: 'Cause God loves me more than he loves you?

House: Hmm. What I was going for was melanin. You got lots of it. [He starts inspecting the palms of Daryl’s hands.] It makes your skin dark, protects you from the sun's harmful UV rays.

Daryl: What are you doing?

House: Unfortunately, it also prevents even those with advanced medical degrees from considering melanoma as a diagnosis. Other hand. [He examines Daryl’s left hand.] On the rare occasion that black people do get skin cancer, they usually get it on the white parts – palms and soles of the feet. [He pulls the blanket aside and starts checking Daryl’s feet.] But your hands and feet are so smashed up from football, my team are likely to have written off any skin blemish as a bruise. But now that I know that melanoma is the only thing that fits... Come take a look at this, Mom. [There’s a freckle between two of Daryl’s toes.] There's the thorn in the panther's paw. Paraneoplastic syndrome. Your body forms antibodies to fight the tumor. [CGI of the antibodies traveling through Daryl’s body.] Those tiny little proteins travel through your blood and wreak havoc. We remove the cancerous mole, everything should be fine. I'll tell Dr. Chase to schedule the surgery.

Daryl: Why bother? I missed my sh*t. What kind of life am I gonna lead now?

House: Did you study really, really hard? [Daryl gives him a “look.”] Then the same crappy life that the rest of the guys you'll be graduating with are gonna lead... minus the student loans.

[He leaves. Glenda smiles at Daryl.]

[Cut to Cuddy’s office. Lucas enters. She’s at her desk doing paperwork.]

Lucas: Hey. You ready?

Cuddy: Almost. [She puts a check on a page.] And… done. [packing up] I heard House and Wilson are getting pranked by someone. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?

Lucas: No.

Cuddy: Why should I believe you?

Lucas: You said I had a trusting face. I still don't understand why you wouldn't let me retaliate, though. They stole your dream.

Cuddy: Well, that's overstating it. It's just a condo.

Lucas: It's not because you feel guilty about hurting House or guilty for being with me?

Cuddy: We'll buy another one. I just don't see the need to make a w*r out of it.

Lucas: Well, I think you're rationalizing, which a less confident man than myself might take as a sign that you're second-guessing. [She kisses him.] Okay, you know what? Forget that last part.

[Cut to a nurses’ station. House is checking a chart. Wilson approaches.]

Wilson: I heard Foreman and his brother are trying to work things out.

House: That's nice for them.

Wilson: It's nice of you. You didn't provoke Marcus to quit so the pranks would stop. You were becoming the common enemy they could bond over. You are the diabolical, yet benevolent puppet master.

House: I provoked Marcus to quit because he was no longer useful to me. I hired him to get information. I got information.

Wilson: Uh-huh. And how are we gonna get back at Lucas?

House: We're not.

Wilson: [smiling] I win. [leaves]

[House sees Jim being wheeled out of his room. There is gauze over the stump where his foot used to be. House stares as he watches him leave.]