08x02 - Transplant

[bunniefuu]

Note: Throughout this episode, House is wearing his (pressed) shirts tucked into his pants, and a bracelet on his right wrist.


[Loud rapping is heard as the scene opens on House asleep on his prison bunk]

Guard: Get up, House.

House: Must be some mistake. I specifically requested my wakeup startle three hours from now.

Guard: Some VIP visitor. Dean of Medicine from your old hospital.

House: I've had dreams about this. I'm going to assume this is another one.

Guard: Get up. (He raps on the doorframe again)

House: I can refuse to see any visitor I want. Tell the Dean that I don't want to see her.

[He rolls over to go back to sleep}

Guard: He said you'd say that.

House: (rolling back to look up at the guard) He?

[House, now dressed in his prison clothes, is escorted by the guard to a locked visitor room. The guard unlocks the door to reveal Foreman sitting at a table, his laptop and a file lying on the table in front of him. House sits down across from Foreman and the guard leaves, locking the door behind him]

House: What's the hiring policy over there? All ass based?

Foreman: I can get you out of here.

House: Not unless that file has a file in it.

[Foreman pulls a document from his breast pocket and tosses it onto the table]

Foreman: Judge's order for your immediate release.

House: I had eight months added to my sentence two months ago. The math is pretty basic.

Foreman: We have a crisis. Which, is good news for you. You're out tonight on conditional parole. The condition being that you're employed by me, at PPTH.

House: No, thanks. You think it's a good idea for me to go right back to my old life? For either of us?

Foreman: Your patient, is two lungs, in a box.

[Foreman opens his laptop and turns it toward House. The picture on the monitor is of a pair of lungs in a plexiglass box]

Foreman: And it only has 12 hours left. No pulse, no body. No ability to answer questions. It's your perfect patient.

House: I did pay for the room for the whole week, but…

[OPENING CREDITS. Instead of the usual opening credits, there is just a very brief showing of the title]

[Cut to a guard putting a stack of House’s civilian clothing out on a countertop. As Foreman tells House about the medical situation, House dresses, putting on his shirt and shoes, strapping on his watch and putting his wallet in his left hip pocket. He picks up a bottle of Vicodin. The last thing he is given is his cane. As he takes the cane off the counter, we see a simple bracelet on his right wrist]

Foreman: Donor's an 18-year-old college kid back from Hofstra. Goes to a homecoming party with his buddies, hops on his motorcycle, ends up an organ donor. Asystole in the E.R. No pulse. No blood circulating. His heart, liver, kidneys were all toast. Surgeons had the recipient on the table when they realized the lungs had increased airway resistance. The team closed her up, put the lungs in suspended animation. Buys 24 hours to fix it, 12 of which have passed. We still have no clue what's wrong.

[Cut to House and Foreman walking into the main hospital lobby. It is dark outside. House stops to comment on the new décor]

House: Nice painting. Blues and greens. Calming, but with a hint of nurturing. Totally offsets the stench of suffering and death. Where's my patient? We need to not talk.

Foreman: ICU isolation room. The transplant team will meet you there with updates from the past two hours.

House: Great. (holding out the file) Take this.

Foreman: How about you drop it in your office?

[They have stopped in front of the elevator]

House: I completely understand and, almost respect your desire to appear to be Dean of Medicine, given that your title is Dean of Medicine. On the other hand… Seriously?

[The elevator arrives and they both step into it]

Foreman: Get this straight. You break the law, you go back to jail. Scam extra Vicodin, back to jail. Flout my authority, make the hospital look bad, back to jail. I own you.

House: Yes, massa.

Foreman: See, that, would be an example.

[They get off the elevator on the fourth floor and head down the hall toward House’s old office]

House: When did Cuddy leave?

Foreman: She gave her notice the day after your incident. Took a job—

House: Don't need the details.

[As they near House’s old office, a saw can be heard. Through the glass we see a technician sawing a cast off a patient’ leg. The lettering on the old office door now read “Orthopedics”]]

Foreman: Ortho needed more space. You're this way.

House: Where's my stuff?

Foreman: No idea.

House: What about my team?

[They turn down the hallway which is perpendicular to House’s old office]

Foreman: Pathetic. The first thing you said to me was you don't want your old environment. The fourth thing you said was, "where's my old environment?" It's been a year, Taub, Chase, Thirteen all moved on. The world does that sometimes.

House: No, it doesn't.

[They turn another corner where Foreman stops and opens a door. The office is a closet sized room with only a desk and a few chairs. A young female doctor of Asian descent sits in one of the chairs]

Foreman: Here's your new office. And there's your new team.

Park: Hi.

[Cut to Dr. Park trailing House as they head toward the ICU]

House: I'm not interested in another department's sloppy seconds.

Park: I'm not sloppy seconds.

House: 3:00 a.m. If Foreman had called you in from home, you wouldn't have
pressed clothes, coiffed hair, and makeup, which means you were already here in the hospital.

Park: Yes, I was on call for neurology.

House: Well, if that were true, you'd be working right now and unavailable to help. Which means that you're hanging out in the hospital pretending to work. Which means you're not just a reject, you're a cowardly reject who was trying to hide her rejectedness from someone.

Park: I am not a reject.

[They stop outside the ICU]

House: Then go back to neurology.

Park: I can't. I punched my attending.

[Park goes into the ICU, leaving House to reassess his opinion of her. He then follows her into the ICU, where both Wilson, Dr. Simpson, and the other transplant team members stand looking at the donated lungs in a plexiglass box. The ventilator can be heard pushing air into the lungs]

Dr. Simpson: ARDS secondary to trauma is our leading hypothesis. FiO2 is 93%—

House: (loudly) Prison! Sorry, I thought I heard everyone else think that. I was in prison, you see. It was a long time ago, but still, you're curious. Never was r*ped, not r*ped-r*ped. Well, r*ped-r*ped, but not r*ped-r*ped-r*ped. Well, now that we've got that completely behind us.

Dr. Simpson: Sorry, Dr. House, welcome back.

House: Is there cake? Any alveolar exudate?

Dr. Simpson: No. The lungs are dry.

House: Well it's not ARDS. It's the autumn. Its tick borne disease season. Ehrlichiosis causing bronchialitis. You'll appreciate that I left the "idiots" subtextual.

Wilson: Blood smear was clear, and we "idiots" treated with broad spectrum antibiotics.

House: Cocaine.

Dr. Simpson: Tox screen was clean.

House: Dead men don't pee. Tox screen tests for metabolites in the urine. Coke never got past the lungs. Also explains the motorcycle crash. Idiots.

Dr. Simpson: Let's get the lungs on treatment.

House: Great idea. Unless you're wrong. And by you, I mean me. Then this treatment will burn holes in the lungs. I'd call you idiots again, but at this point I'm starting to doubt whether you understand what I mean by the word. (to Park) Kato, get Black Beauty and meet me out front. (looking directly at Wilson) We're gonna find the dead kid's stash.

[Wilson barely acknowledges House. He just turns and walks out the door with the rest of the transplant team. House follows Wilson and walks with him down the hall]

House: Since an 18-year-old with organ donor on his license is not a cancer patient, I'm figuring the recipient is a lifetime member of the Wilson cares too much club.

Wilson: Excellent deduction.

House: You're the reason I'm out of the big house. Doesn't quite make up for never visiting—

Wilson: Springing you was Foreman's idea. I wasn't convinced until Simpson failed three times.

House: It amounts to the same thing. You wanted me back.

Wilson: See, I knew you'd over-interpret it.

House: Strong, emotional reaction. I guess that's what a lifetime membership gets you. How’s your wrist?

Wilson: Healed, thank you.

House: I was wrong. I went to prison. I paid the price. (Wilson’s pager beeps)

Wilson: (pulling out his pager) You're a changed man.

House: I said I was wrong. I didn't say I changed. I haven't. Neither have you—

Wilson: Analyze it however you like. We’re not friends anymore. (He leaves House standing in the hallway)

[Cut to Wilson entering Vanessa’s room. Her breathing is labored and she is clutching her chest]

Wilson: What can I do?

Vanessa: My chest. Angina's back.

Wilson: Upping the nitro should knock it back down.

Theresa: Sis and I were talking, trying to figure out how many hospital sleepovers we've had.

Vanessa: It definitely started with the great mastectomy of 2001. God, I miss my boobs. They were spectacular.

Theresa: Is there a chance of locating another donor?

Wilson: It's unlikely. Especially since, with the extent of the emphysema, she needs a double lung.

Wilson: (to Vanessa) How are you doing?

Vanessa: Better already. It's a good thing that worked. I was gonna make you bring me a bottle. Oh, lighten up, Sis. You know, the least you could do is laugh at a dying lady's jokes.

Theresa: Your drinking wasn't funny then, and it's not funny now. Because, you're not dying.

Wilson: The hospital brought in a consultant to work on the lungs.

Theresa: Do you know him? Is he — is he good?

Wilson: He is an excellent doctor.

[Cut to House and Park arriving at the organ donor’s house. It is pouring rain. Park gets out of the drivers side of the car with a large umbrella, which she shares with House as they walk toward the front door]

Park: We probably shouldn't be turning up unannounced like this. Their son just d*ed.

House: Bright side — they're probably up weeping. Hey, we both assaulted our bosses. It's like we're twins.

Park: I’d really rather not….

House: Okay, I'll go first. My boss dumped me. And yours what? Called you his China doll? Joked about what a crappy deal you got for Manhattan? Assumed you have a huge penis? I have no idea what flavor you are, so I thought I’d just cover the spread.

Park: My mom's Filipino, Dad's Korean, and my boss grabbed my behind.

House: Behind what? Oh, yeah, your — grabbed your tushy. So now you're pretending to be on call so that your overly protective boyfriend won't find out that you got groped.

[When the reach the front porch, House rings the doorbell]

Park: I don't have a boyfriend. It's my parents. If they found out what I've done, they'd be mortified.

House: Your parents know your call schedule?

Park: I live with them.

House: Right. No issues there.

[Cut to House dumping a dresser drawer onto a bed]

Mr. Weathers: I told you my son didn't do cocaine.

[House pulls a pill bottle from his pocket and dry swallows it in front of Mr. Weathers]

House: Druggies are not known for their honesty. Trust me on this one.

Park: Mr. Weathers, I am sure you're right, but we need to be thorough. Did your son ever smoke marijuana?

Mr. Weathers: He was an athlete. Took real good care of himself.

[House has opened a nightstand drawer and is haphazardly tossing the contents onto the bed]

Mr. Weathers: Hey, take it easy. Steve loved all that—

House: Sorry. But we're on a clock.

[House goes to the closet and turns on the light. Park hurries over to him]

Park: (whispering) I think he's about to throw us out.

House: (looking up at Mr. Weathers) Nope. His son is dead. The only way that has any meaning is if we fix the lungs and transplant them. It doesn’t matter how much we piss him off as long as we find something. So go back there, piss him off and find something.

[Park approaches Mr. Weathers]

Park: Do you know any of the kids at the party with your son?

Mr. Weathers: Bunch of his high school buddies. They’d gotten really into poker and decided to have an all-night game in Brandon Broome's basement.

[House knocks something on the floor while searching a desk in the bedroom]

Mr. Weathers: Hey!

[Park hurries over to pick it up]

Park: (speaking quietly to House) I understand that we're in a hurry but maybe he should.

[House picks up a glasses case off the desk, then looks at the photos on Steve’s dresser]

House: Your son isn't wearing glasses in any of these pictures.

Mr. Weathers: He just got them a couple of weeks ago.

House: Because he was having headaches?

[The doorbell rings, and Mr. Weathers looks toward the front of the house]

House: Answer the question before answering the door.

Mr. Weathers: Yeah, he was.

House: You’re right. He was not doing cocaine. He had a brain tumor.

[The doorbell rings again]

House: Don't bother. It's for me. (propping his foot on the dresser, and pulling up his pant leg to reveal the monitor) Turns out they monitor these monitors.

[Cut to House opening the Weathers front door. There is a police officer standing on the front walk and a squad car, with lights flashing, parked at the bottom of the driveway. House walks out into the rain, where the officer takes his arm and escorts him toward the car]

[Cut to PPTH. House has just been delivered to Foreman and is sitting in a waiting room chair. Foreman dismisses the police officer]

Foreman: (shaking hands with the police officer) Thank you, officer.

House: I thought the bracelet was decorative. My aunt had one just like it. Wait a minute.

Foreman: You're allowed to be at the hospital. You're allowed to go home. That was made clear.

House: Dead kid's house was on the way to my apartment. (He picks up his cane and stands) Assuming I got lost, twice.

Foreman: Those consultants in my office are only costing the hospital 100 bucks every minute I keep them waiting. Why didn't you just tell me what you were doing?

House: I knew you were very busy, being vaguely important.

Foreman: I might have cleared it with the cops.

House: Yeah, it's the word "might" that bumps me, but I’ll run it by you next time. (He turns to leave)

Foreman: House.

[House turns back as Foreman approaches]

Foreman: Getting you out of jail was not a popular decision with the board. I need you to solve this, and I need you to do it without making me look like I can't control you. For both our sakes. (House nods)

[Cut to the morgue. House and Park have pulled Steve Weathers bagged body out of a storage drawer. House hangs his cane on another drawer front]

House: Disciplinary hearing should be fun, and the subsequent lingering black mark on your record.

Park: I’m not worried.

[They start to move the body onto a gurney. House stops and unzips the bag]

Park: We have to wheel this out to the MRI. We should probably leave the body in the bag.

House: (feeling the body’s upper right arm) There's a mass in the arm. Analyzing part of this tumor is gonna be quicker than a scan.

[As House talks to Park, he puts on a pair of latex gloves, cuts into the arm, and excises part of the mass]

House: So, where’s the next job? You worry about what people think of you, and parental secrets. The only way that you don't worry about this hearing is if you don't think there's gonna be one. The only way that happens is you leave Princeton Plainsboro.

Park: I had a video interview with Chicago yesterday. It went well.

[House has deposited the mass in a specimen jar. He holds it up an examines the mass]

House: My money's on rhabdomyosarcoma. (giving the jar to Park) Chicago has a great program, and you're a dumbass.

[House zips up the body bag]

House: Running away from home is a time-honored tradition, but you're not doing it to flee your parents. You're doing it to protect them. (He picks up his cane) That's an insult to everything teen prostitutes have worked for. Time to grow up and come clean.

Park: You're right. I should just drive my car into their living room and tell them

[Park slides the body back into the drawer and closes it up]

[Cut to Theresa and Vanessa talking in Vanessa’s room]

Theresa: Didn't it turn out that he'd stolen the hot dog cart?

Vanessa: No, borrowed. Bobby was very insistent on that point.

[They are both laughing when Wilson comes into the room]

Wilson: Seems like someone's feeling better.

Vanessa: No more chest pain.

Wilson: I haven't heard the name Bobby in a long time. How's he doing these days?

Vanessa: I don't know. We're not in touch. And don't even pretend like you're not relieved. You never liked him.

Wilson: Bobby is an incredibly fun, great guy. Just not a great influence.

Theresa: I would have gone with "colossal drunk."

Wilson: I was gonna leave that implied, but, yes, colossal drunk.

Vanessa: What? It's good for a couple to share a hobby.

Wilson: (looking down) Your catheter bag is empty, despite taking in 200 ccs of fluids. I'm gonna have to dial back the nitro.

Theresa: Won't her chest pain come back?

Wilson: We don't have any choice. The nitro is dropping the blood flow to your kidneys. They're shutting down.

[Cut to Wilson approaching his office. He pauses when he hears strains of Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On emanating from his office. He opens the door to find House sitting behind his desk with an open laptop in front of him. He is using the computer to play the song]

♪♫ Near, far, wherever you are, ♪♫

♪♫ I believe ♪♫

House: This is so our song.

♪♫ That the heart does go on ♪♫

[Wilson strides over to the desk and pauses the song on the computer]

Wilson: My patient is running out of time.

House: Not worried. My team is confirming the diagnosis as we speak.

[House hits play again]

♪♫ You open the door ♪♫

Wilson: (pausing the music again) I want to be understanding. It's your first day back—

House: See? I smell empathy.

[House turns the song back on and leans back in the office chair]

♪♫ And you're here in my heart ♪♫

House: You should remember all the good times. Like when I gave you that necklace that you just dumped n the ocean. What were you thinking?

♪♫ My heart will go on ♪♫

Wilson: (pausing the music yet again) House, I haven't forgotten our friendship. For every good memory, there's a slew of bad ones.

[There is a knock on the office door. House and Wilson answer simultaneously]

House: Come in.

Wilson: Come in.

[Park enters the office]

Park: Paraneoplastic syndrome's out. The lung donor didn't have cancer.

House: Tell that to the tumor that I found in his arm.

Park: That mass wasn't a tumor. It was coagulated plasma. E.R. pumped him full of it. I.V. leaked into his arm. I even did a complete MRI. No cancer anywhere. We've got nothing.

House: Just 'cause it wasn't a tumor doesn't mean it didn't mess with the lungs. They're reacting to something in the plasma.

Park: But every unit of plasma can have up to 25 contributing donors. We need to track down all of them.

House: Still. (picking up his cane and heading out the door) It's not as bad as a thousand people going down in a gigantic boat, right? My heart will go on. (He leaves Wilson’s office)

[Cut to Foreman’s office]

Foreman: No. You can't leave the hospital.

House: 25 donors contributed to the plasma that the lung donor got. My team cannot track down and interview them all in six hours.

Foreman: I vouch for you to the cops, you take some parole-violating detour celebrating your freedom, justified, of course, by some absurd theory connecting it to the case.

House: You asked me to ask you. Was that just so you'd enjoy saying no?

Foreman: I don't trust you, House. I can't.

House: Actually you have to.

Foreman: Not absolutely. Not outside the walls of this hospital.

House: Fine, then give me a team I don't have to put in quotation marks.

Foreman: Use the people already on the case.

House: Give me Chase, Taub, Thirteen.

Foreman: We don't have the money to pay them.

House: Oh, yeah. (looking around the newly decorated office) It went to interior designers, I understand.

Foreman: You only have Park because she's on neurology's tab. You are making minimum wage.
House: I am?

Foreman: Get out of my office, please. (House leaves)

[Cut to House leaning against the wall in the corridor across from his old office. His cell phone rings. It is Wilson, calling from an industrial kitchen of some kind]

House: What do you got?

Wilson: Number three went to a baseball game the day before he donated.

House: Boredom is not transmissible.

Wilson: He ate a bag of peanuts, and peanut proteins would be. If our donor had an allergy, it could explain the lungs.

House: Nice.

Wilson: What?

House: Nothing.

Wilson: Don't start that.

House: Start what? I'm enjoying our conversation. The repartee.

Wilson: There was no repartee.

House: That was repartee.

Wilson: I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it to help my patient.

House: It's just good to hear your voice.

Wilson: (disconnecting) Goodbye.

[House pockets his phone and looks at the whiteboard standing in what used to be the diagnostics outer office, but is now part of Orthopedics. A technician is diagramming how he will be removing the cast from a patient’s arm. House enters the room and starts to roll the whiteboard out of the room]

House: That's my whiteboard. I need it. And he really doesn't care how the cast comes off.

[He is stopped by a nurse who blocks the door]

Betty: (smiling) Dr. Foreman warned us that you'd try something. Told me to call him if you did. I'd like to do that.

[House stares her down for a second, then pushes the whiteboard back toward the technician. His cell phone rings]

House: I'll take this outside.

[Betty lets him pass, but before he actually leaves, he grabs a marker off of a table by the door and closes the blinds. Out in the hallway, he hangs his cane on a ledge above the wall glass and prepares to use the glass as a whiteboard]

House: (answering the phone) Yeah.

Park: (getting into her car in a residential neighborhood) Donor six traveled to Thailand around Khorat. Region was endemic with dengue fever.

[House has written “Pnut all” on the glass and now adds “dengue”]

House: Good.

[There is a quick cut to Wilson leaving a house and hanging up his phone, and then back to House who writes Park’s and Wilson’s ideas on the wall glass as they call in. Cut to House sitting across from his makeshift whiteboard. He twiddles with the marker as he examines the list of ideas. His phone rings again]

House: Yeah.

Park: Alcohol.

House: He’d have to be pretty drunk for it to affect a pool of plasma.

[Park is at a highway underpass populated by homeless men and a painting crew]

Park: These guys have got that covered. Acute etoh ingestion could have—(she interrupts the call to yell at the painting crew) hey, paint around them, they’re not hurting anyone]

House: Who's painting?

Park: The crew's just starting. Paint fumes didn't cause contamination. But, maybe the old paint did. They scraped off the underpass, probably because it contains… lead.

House: (speaking it at the same time as Park does) Lead.

[Cut to Wilson entering Vanessa’s room]

Wilson: Chest pain back?

Vanessa: It’s worse this time. Is there any way to take the edge off?

Wilson: We're still working on the lungs. We should know soon.

Vanessa: Soon is good.

[House bangs on the window with his cane. Wilson goes out into the hallway to see what he wants. They walk to a nearby waiting area where House sits]

Wilson: (still standing) How's the chelation going?

House: Reverend Moon started it about 20 minutes ago. You missed lunch tracking down the plasma donors. Got you a Reuben from the cafeteria.

[House pulls a sandwich out of a paper bag and hands it to Wilson]

Wilson: Thanks. (he sits) Lead exposure's a nice diagnosis. I hope it pays off.

House: It will.

Wilson: I appreciate your confidence, but she's not really—

House: Oh, no, she could die. But technically it will still pay off. Even if your patient dies, someone will get the lungs.

[House takes a bite out of his own sandwich]

Wilson: You really haven't changed. But I've given up red meat.

[Wilson tosses his unopened sandwich into a wastebasket and leaves]

[Cut to Park in the ICU with the lungs. Foreman enters]

Foreman: What round of chelation is this?

Park: Fourth. Are you checking up on me, or on House?

Foreman: On this case. Unique situation. Oxygenating?

Park: 98%. Airway resistance down.

Foreman: Great. Is House okay?

Park: I have no idea.

[There is a knock on the ICU door. A middle age Asian man waves to Park. She goes out into the hallway. The man is holding a plastic, covered, bowl of food]

Park: Dad, what are you doing here?

Mr. Park: Got your text. (holding out the bowl) I brought you some of your Mother’s gomguk.

Park: What text?

Mr. Park: The one asking me to bring you some dinner. I went by neurology. The secretary said you were on leave.

Park: I'm consulting on this case. Unique situation.

[Mr. Park looks through the glass at the lungs in a box]

Mr. Park: It looks very complicated. You, can help with that?

[The machines start beeping in the ICU]

Park: Lungs are crashing. I have to go. Bye.

[She stands on her tiptoes and gives her father a kiss on the cheek before going back into the ICU to help Foreman with the lungs]

Foreman: Increasing to 100% FiO2.

Park: (checking the IV line) Saline flow is down to 10 ccs.

Foreman: Blockage? Clot in the line?

Park: Chelation is making it worse. It means we were wrong about lead.

Foreman: Hold the analysis and help me save this thing.

Park: Saline's flushing it forward but getting no return. One-way valve. Vasospasm.

Foreman: If you're right, calcium channel blocker should relax the artery.

[Foreman pulls open a drawer and takes out a syringe]

Park: The lungs have no nervous system. Will that still work?

Foreman: (pushing the calcium channel blocker into the IV line) We'll know soon.

[The machine alarms start slowing down to their normal rhythms]

Foreman: Saline flow is rising. Vasospasm’s relaxing. Left lung is pinking up. Good job.

Park: (watching the lungs) Right middle lobe isn't.

[She pushes another syringe into the IV line]

Foreman: Nothing.

Park: We k*lled part of the lung.

[Park and Foreman look at one another, then Park looks back at her father, still standing in the hallway. He waves to her]

[Cut to House and Park walking down a hospital corridor. House has his phone to his ear]

House: (into the phone) Page Dr. Pinto stat to the cath lab.

Park: We're going to the cath lab? Are you thinking that maybe—

House: What? Who? One dead lobe means four alive ones. It means enough to transplant with a side order of dead tissue that we can test.

Park: It makes sense. Unlike you stealing my phone.

House: You have unlimited texting. Until your parents know, you will never see that punch for what it really was. Your February 4th. Sri Lankan Independence Day.

Park: I told you I'm Korean and Filipino.

House: And I told you I wasn't listening. By my actions.

Park: v*olence isn't an appropriate way to handle conflict. It was a moment of weakness.

House: You barked at me, picked a fight with a painting crew. Maybe it's time to recognize it's not a character flaw. Maybe it's your character.

[I front of House and Park, a doctor exits his office, shutting the door behind him]

House: (acknowledging the doctor) Pinto!

Dr. Pinto: House.

[House and Park stop in front of the office Dr. Pinto just left. The nameplate on the door reads “Mike Pinto M.D., Director of Cardiology.” House looks back at Dr. Pinto hurrying down the hallway away from them and reaches for the office doorknob]

House: (to Park) Embrace your inner bitch.

[House enters Dr. Pinto’s office. Park reluctantly follows. House smiles as he spots the Eames chair, which used to be in his office]

House: So why did chelation make the lungs worse?

[House sets his cane aside, and rubbing his right leg, prepares to move the chair]

House: We got about five minutes till Pinto gets back. Give me a hand with this.

Park: No.

[House look at her incredulously, then puts the ottoman up onto the chair]

Park: I tracked down another bag of plasma from the batch they used on the donor. Negative for all our other exposures.

House: Sarcoidosis could be inflamed by the treatment. (He looks at the chair then back at Park) I am a cr*pple, in need of assistance.

Park: (ignoring House, Park opens the patient file) Um, transplant team ran an A.C.E. Negative.

House: It's mine. And it's your job.

Park: My job is to assist you in curing the lungs.

House: This chair will help me do that.

[House lays his cane across the chair and, walking backwards, drags it past Park and toward the doorway]

Park: What if the scrapings from the bridge contained other heavy metals like barilium or asbestos?

House: Chelation for lead wouldn't have made them worse.

[House has reached the door and discovered that the chair is too wide to fit through. He stands up as a thought comes to him about the case]

House: But… maybe the problem isn't a heavy metal from outside. It's inside. But it's not leaving the body like it's supposed to. It's stuck. Iron. The donor had hemosiderosis.

Park: His body wasn't disposing of iron. Massive amounts choke up the lungs. Then our chelation would wreak havoc because it picks up too much stuff.

House: Go stain the dead lung tissue for iron.

[A worried look appears on Parks face as she spots something in the hallway. House, surmising that Dr. Pinto has returned, speaks loudly]

House: I'm sorry, young lady, I simply will not help you steal this chair.

[House turns and walks down the hallway, leaving Park trapped in Pinto’s office by the chair]

House: Pinto.

Dr. Pinto: House.

[Dr. Pinto looks at Park, standing in his office]

Park: Hi.

[Cut to Wilson entering Vanessa’s hospital room. Vanessa’s breathing is labored. Her sister is standing by the bed]

Theresa: She can barely catch her breath.

[Wilson takes Theresa’s place by the bed and, putting on his stethoscope, listens to her chest]

Vanessa: Lungs ready yet?

Wilson: We're testing for iron overload.

Theresa: I thought it was lead.

Wilson: This is not an exact process. (to Vanessa) Your small airways are collapsing. You're not getting enough oxygen. I'd like to try forcing an oxygen-rich slurry into your lungs. It should open up the airways and buy you some time until the lungs are ready.

Vanessa: Fluid? In my lungs? Sounds like drow…drowning.

Wilson: It is.

Vanessa: Gonna hurt, isn't it?

Wilson: Yes, a fair amount.

Vanessa: No. I'm done.

[Cut to House, reading a magazine entitled Moto Circus. It’s not clear where he is. There is a knock on the door]

Wilson: (through the door) House, the nurses saw you come in.

House: Enter.

Wilson: It's a bathroom.

House: Ah, explains the hole in this chair.

[Wilson enters the patient room bathroom looking exasperated]

House: God, I missed doors. And air freshener.

[House closes the magazine and sprays the room with a can of air freshener. He puts the can back on the side table and opens the magazine]

House: Now go away. I'm waiting for some test results.

Wilson: My patient signed a DNR. She's giving up. Looks like someone else will be getting the lungs. Making this yet another interaction with you in which I get nothing.

House: It's not my fault you can't handle your patient.

Wilson: She said she's done. I spent half an hour trying to change her mind, but she'd made her decision. I accepted that. It's called respect.

House: And what's after respect? You find another angle. You hold her hand, get the sister to beg, (he throws the magazine onto the side table) stick your fingers in your ears, pretend you can't hear. You do whatever it takes.

Wilson: Oh, whatever it takes. Thanks, House. I hadn't thought of that.

[Wilson slaps the doorframe and walks away. House picks up his cane and uses it to close the bathroom door]

[Cut to Park working in the lab. Foreman enters]

Foreman: What are you testing for?

Park: Hemosiderosis. I'm staining for excess iron.

Foreman: Promising. When your dad showed up unexpectedly, House have a hand in that?

Park: I'm guessing he does things like that a lot.

Foreman: His version of a compliment. (Park nods) I spoke to the head of neurology in Chicago. I gave you a good recommendation.

Park: Did you mention what happened?

Foreman: Lawyers say I'm not allowed to. It works out well for everyone.

Park: (slightly angry) Why exactly is that good for you?

Foreman: Excuse me?

Park: I'm a talented physician, top 2% of my class. I'm an asset to this hospital, an asset you're about to lose to Chicago.

Foreman: You applied for the job. You asked me to call and recommend you.

Park: Andrews is the one that should leave. He's the supervisor. He touched me first.

Foreman: I can't discuss any of that, not before the hearing. But if you're having doubts about Chicago, I can call them back.

Park: (meekly) No. Thank you.

[Foreman starts to leave when Park pulls something up on her monitor and calls him back]

Park: Dr. Foreman? Would you look at this?

Foreman: Iron?

Park: No. White blood cells.

Foreman: (looking at the monitor) Classic presentation of infection.

Park: How the hell did we miss that?

[Cut to House sitting on a sofa and picking fruit from a fruit bouquet. (Note: Its not clear exactly where his is in the hospital, but a card on the bouquet says “OBGYN L&D,” and there are bookshelves along the walls, so I’m guessing its the doctors lounge in the OB, GYN department)]

Park: Biopsy revealed, white blood cell inflitrates.

House: Infection was right, after all.

[Park looks at House as he indulges in a large piece of cantaloupe]

House: Fresh fruit in prison is usually chicken.

Park: Why aren't you more alarmed? We're running out of time.

House: (yelling) Aahh, she's dying! (speaking normally again) Were you able to figure out what was wrong while I was screaming?

Park: Infection was the first thing that the transplant team treated for.

House: Which would have worked if the bacteria had been out in the open. If they're hiding inside the lung cells… I'm thinking brucella. And to wipe that out, you need special ops. (Park looks confused) An intact immune system.

Park: (reaching for and eating a piece of fruit) But that's what white blood cells are.

House: They're part of the immune defense force, like the infantry. But those lungs need the Air Force and the Marines, antibodies raining down from above. (Park still does not understand)

House: (explaining) Antibiotics and IVIG.

Park: Did you use metaphors for your old team? Or do you just think I'm particularly stupid?
House: No, they were stupid too.

[Cut to Vanessa’s room. Vanessa is asleep. Theresa is dozing in the chair. She gets up quickly when she sees someone approaching the room. Wilson walks in with Bobby. Theresa confronts him]

Theresa: (to Bobby) What are you doing here?

Bobby: I'm here for Vanessa.

Theresa: Now is not the time, Bobby.

Bobby: She asked me to come. Right, Doc?

Wilson: (to Theresa) Actually, it was my idea.

Theresa: What? What were you thinking? She doesn't want to see him.

Wilson: When Vanessa was ready to quit chemo, Bobby's the one who got her to do one more round.

Theresa: Yeah, and then he got her drunk. (to Bobby) At least tell me you haven't been drinking today.

Bobby: I should go.

Vanessa: (waking up) Hail, hail, the g*ng's all here.

[Bobby smiles and goes over to the bed. Theresa leaves the room]

Bobby: (to Vanessa) Hey beautiful.

Vanessa: Hi.

[Wilson closes the door, leaving Vanessa and Bobby alone]

[Cut to radiology where House is lying inside the scanner. Wilson pushes the button that moves the table out of the scanner]

House: (lifting his head to look at Wilson) Case is under control. It's me time.

[House pushes the button to slide the table back into the scanner. Wilson again pushes the button, sliding the table back out of the scanner. This time House just lies there with his eyes closed]

Wilson: Vanessa's gonna do the lung slurry. (House props himself up on his elbows and looks at Wilson) You were right to push me. I needed that. Thank you.

House: So we're good?

Wilson: It was good advice. Just, came here to say thank you.

[Wilson turns to leave]

House: I like you. (WiIson stops and looks back at House) I have fun with you. (House pushes up to a sitting postion) And, if you can honestly say that you don't like me, you don't have fun with me, I can accept that. But, just do whatever you have to do to get over this. You can punch me in the face, kick me in the nuts. Either/or. Both seems excessive.

Wilson: The thing is, House… I don't like you. (He leaves)

[Cut to Park and Dr. Simpson monitoring the lungs in the ICU. House enters]

House: When did the discoloration start?

Park: A few minutes after I started the IVIG.

House: Means we're wrong about infection.

Dr. Simpson: And by we, you mean you. You screwed up the lungs.

House: Wrong about autoimmune, not cancer, heavy metals, genetic issues… Increase peep.

Dr. Simpson: Already maxed out. We're close to the point of no return. The lungs will never be viable for transplant.

House: I need… I need ideas.

Park: IgA nephropathy.

House: That's already ruled out.

Dr. Simpson: Lupus.

House: (frustrated) No--o.

Park: Maybe we're just out of time.

House: We're out of time when we're out of time. When they die or she dies. Keep them stable as long as you can. I need to think. (He leaves)

[Cut to a pile of broken glass. House has broken the wall glass and is now sitting in what once was his office, tapping his cane and squeezing a ball as he thinks. A doctor comes in, looks at the broken glass, then at House. Cut to House being forcibly thrown out of Orthopedics (his old office). Cut to House sitting on the floor in the main hospital waiting area. He is bouncing the ball off the glass wall opposite. He misses one throw and the ball bounces under a bench. He struggles up to retrieve the ball and sees a group of nurses and doctors celebrating a nurse’s birthday with a cake at a nearby nursing station. Wilson is among the group]

Wilson: One, two… three…

Everyone: Make a wish. Make a wish.

[The nurse blows out the candles and everyone applauds. House watches the smoke from the burnt out candles and has his medical epiphany]

[Cut to the ICU, where Park is monitoring the lungs]

House: The lungs are a smoker. (speaking to the lungs) You of all people should know better.

Park: But the kid never smoked.

House: He played poker. Who plays poker without cigars? Even if he didn't light up himself… It was a rainy night. The windows were closed.

[As House speaks there is a short flashback scene of a bunch of men sitting around a poker table and smoking cigars. The camera focuses on the lung donor, Steve Weathers, who coughs, then the camera zooms onto Steve’s mouth and there is a CGI scene of the Steve’s throat and lungs as he inhales the smoke]

House: All parents think their kids are special. And these ones were right. At least his white blood cells were special. They had an on switch for reacting to smoke, but no off. When he inhaled small amounts of smoke, he had small problems. No one even noticed. Big amounts of smoke, that's enough to trash a lung. As soon as he breathed in all that cigar smoke, he was a dead man. The motorcycle accident was an unnecessary dramatic flourish.

Park: Eosiniphilic pneumonitis. But, the steroids would have treated for that.

House: I was right. Not about anything medical, but my metaphors were perfect. We need to hit it harder. We need to carpet b*mb, blitzkrieg. We need the nuclear option.

Park: At some point you're going to say we need to radiate, right?

House: See, the metaphors work.

Park: But that'll destroy the good lung too. Better to go with a strong cocktail of immunosuppressants.

House: Won't be fast enough. Wilson needs these lungs.

[Yesterday Was Hard on All of Us by Fink, plays throughout the closing scenes of the episode]

[Cut to a Radiology observation booth, where Park is radiating the lungs. She watches as the lungs start to pink up and]

♪♫ Where do we go from here? ♪♫

♪♫ Where do we go? ♪♫

[Foreman enters the booth and looks down at the lungs]

♪♫ And is it real or just… ♪♫

Park: It's working.

♪♫ something we think we know? ♪♫

Park: (looking up at Foreman) He did it.

♪♫ Where are we going now? ♪♫

Park: I'm not going to Chicago.

Foreman: If you stay, we have to have a hearing.

Park: I know.

[Foreman nods and leaves the booth]

♪♫ Cause if it's the same as yesterday, you know I'm out, just so you know, ♪♫

[Park looks at her phone lying on the counter. She picks it up and keys in a number]

♪♫ Because, because, our paths they cross, ♪♫

♪♫ Yesterday was hard, ♪♫

Park: Dad… Do you have a minute?

♪♫ on all of us, ♪♫

[Cut to the OR where the lungs are being transplanted into Vanessa]

Surgeon: Thoracic cavity clear. Ready for the donor lungs.

♪♫ On all of us, ♪♫

[Cut to after the surgery. Bobby is with Vanessa in her hospital room. Wilson and Theresa stand outside the room]

Theresa: Thank God you called him.

♪♫ From here? ♪♫

♪♫ Who can we trust? ♪♫

Theresa: I wonder what happens now.

Wilson: She can handle it.

♪♫ Are you real or just something from wanderlust? ♪♫

[Cut to the main lobby of the hospital. House wanders in with a cigar in his mouth. He stops, hooks his cane over his left arm and starts to light the cigar]
♪♫ Who can we trust my dear, sweet, flower? ♪♫

♪♫ Who can you trust? ♪♫

Foreman: (coming up behind House) House!

[House turns around, shaking out the match when he spots Foreman]

♪♫ From cradle to grave, ♪♫

Foreman: Got something for you.

♪♫ From ashes to ashes, ♪♫

♪♫ from dust to dust, ♪♫

[Cut to Foreman and House standing outside House’s old office. His name has been put back on the door, but the designation of “Department of Diagnostic Medicine” is conspicuously absent. All of his things have been put back in their proper places, including, but not limited to, the big tennis ball on the desk and the photo of Stephen Colbert]

Foreman: I found your stuff in storage.

[House opens the door and they both go in]

♪♫ Because, because, ♪♫

♪♫ Our paths, they cross, ♪♫

Foreman: This is all you get. Ortho still has the outer office.

♪♫ Yesterday was hard, on all of us, ♪♫

House: Well, that sucks. Where are Chase, Taub, and Thirteen gonna sit?

Foreman: You're welcome, House.

♪♫ On all of us, ♪♫

[Foreman leaves and House looks around his office. Wilson strides determinably into House’s office. They stand facing each other for a few seconds, then Wilson punches House in the face, knocking him to the floor]

House: Oof!

Wilson: (rubbing his fist) Ah!

♪♫ Where do we go from here? ♪♫

♪♫ Where do we go? ♪♫

♪♫ Tell you what, you go first, almost like its kind of rehearsed, but its not, ♪♫

Wilson: Dinner later? I’ll pick something up.

House: (still lying on the floor and rubbing his jaw) I heard about a good new vegetarian place.

Wilson: Screw that. I want a steak.

♪♫ Because, because, ♪♫

Wilson: I'll meet you at your place at 8:00. (He leaves)

♪♫ Our paths they cross, ♪♫

[House rubs his jaw again, moves it around, feeling for anything that might be broken, then, using his cane for support, he gets up off the floor, and sits down in his office chair]

♪♫ Yesterday was hard, on all of us, ♪♫

♪♫ On all of us, ♪♫

[The camera pull back into the hallway, to that old familiar sh*t of House, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. The only thing missing is his title on the door of the office]

THE END