House (2004–2012): Season 3, Episode 8 - Whac-A-Mole - full transcript

I'm gonna tickle you!

I need a refill.

- You've already had three.
- So what? They're free.

I got a birthday.
Get it yourself.

No wonder he doesn't
get any tips.

All right.

Who's ready to sing
the Ralphie's Rumpus
birthday rump shake?

Let's sing, let's ride, let's bling,
let's slide It's time for Ralphie

We'll dance, eat cake and do
the rump shake it's time for Ralphie

You okay, man?

So hip-hooray 'cause
Ralphy wants to play



You okay?

Stand up and cheer, for
ralphy's here let's spin,

let's turnlet's wing, let's learn,

it's time for ralphy...

Okay. All right.
Let's get you in the back.

It's gonna be okay,
kids. Sorry.

- Got a heartbeat.
- Jack? Jack?

- I need you to step back.
- He's my brother.

Jack, wake up!

Call your parents. Tell them to go to
Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital.

Our parents died.

He's all we've got.

I was not parked illegally.
I live here.

Love note.
From Detective Tritter.



Heart attack.

His cath was clean and
echo showed no
structural abnormalities.

Fatigue, night sweats,
weight loss preceded
the heart attack.

Eighteen-year-old kid's
suddenly an orphan
and a single father of two.

Party of Five!
Powerful stuff.

The O.C. of its day.

Stress explains everything
except the itchy feet.

Athlete's foot covers that.

Waiters work 1 2 hours
a day in old sneakers.

Good idea.
Ignore the symptoms.
Makes our job easy.

I'm not ignoring a symptom.
I'm explaining a symptom.

Kid's been hanging
over a toilet despite
antiemetic therapy.

Persistent vomiting could indicate
increased intracranial pressure, tumor...

Sure. Heart problems.
It's gotta be the brain.

Thank God
there's a neurologist
in the room.

Right. It's the feet.
If only I were a podiatrist.

Probably caught an intestinal
virus from one of those
feral kids running around.

Repeated vomiting causes
an electrolyte imbalance,

which leads to an arrhythmia,
which leads to
the heart attack.

- And itchy feet.
- Nope.

That's it? Nope?

I've said too much already.

- This isn't a game, House.
- No, it's not. But it could be.

- What are you writing?
- Nothing.

If you know the diagnosis,
why don't...

How are you gonna learn to swim unless I take off your floaties
and throw you into shark-infested waters?

You can't know what's wrong
after a 30-second
perusal of his file.

- Apparently, you can't.
- Now, what's a game without rules?

No tag-backs. No biting.
You get one test each.

And the clock runs until lunch.

If I'm right, he'll still be alive.
If I'm wrong, this is a very cruel game.

You're late. I charge for the time
you were supposed to be here.

Tritter towed my car.

He's frozen my assets.
He's on a crusade.

You're a person of interest
in a narcotics investigation.

You're linked to their suspect
and his activities.

I'm not Pablo Escobar's
evil henchman cruising into
Miami in a Cigarette boat.

I'm a physician
who prescribed Vicodin
to a pain patient.

This police report you faxed
me says they found 600 pills
in his apartment.

- You prescribe those?
- He's in chronic pain.

- This is obviously an abuse of power.
- Is that a yes or no?

Patients build up
a tolerance over the years.

Perfect motive for him
to forge those scripts.

- Still don't have an answer.
- What are we, like, role-playing?

Yeah.
And you suck at it.

Which is really unfortunate,
because you're pretending
to be you.

I gotta get to court.

Michael told me
you could help me
get my car back.

Yeah, divorce lawyers
usually know the ins and outs
of drug enforcement.

You want your car back? You're gonna have
to give the cops what they want.

Thanks. Usually people
feel helpless
in these situations.

Dr. House is
probably going to jail.

You keep on lying for him,
you'll go right along
with him.

House was on this page
when he got that annoying
"I'm such a genius" look.

- What's there?
- Patient history.

He's 18.
Probably drinks,
smokes, does drugs.

How close am I?

Quit drugs when
his parents died.
Quit smoking.

House didn't
mock my viral idea.
He just said it was wrong.

Which means
he didn't want to
give reasons.

Which means
I must have been close.

I'm thinking bacterial.

I'm doing a blood culture.

I am doing an MRI.

If it was a tumor, intracranial pressure could
cause his brain to herniate before lunch.

- Same thing with the stress test.
- Which is why I'm ditching it.

- What are you doing instead?
- Not telling.

Seriously?
You're playing his game?

We're all playing his game.
Might as well enjoy it.

Anybody else sick at work?

I had a stomachache
before him.

This isn't your fault, Will.
Keep working.

My brother's in the hospital.

Mrs. Collier won't care
if I finish my homework.

Your brother cares
if you finish your homework.

Can I be your
imaginary friend?

He's a doctor.

How are the feet?
Still itch?

Is that important?

I don't know. Is it?

What kinds of drugs
you into?

You don't have to
talk about that right now.

No, it's okay. I don't keep
secrets from them.

They know I did drugs
before our parents died.

Clever. Admit the past.
Deny the present.

I'm clean.
I'm raising two kids.

It'd be pretty irresponsible,
wouldn't it?

But confiding in
an eight-year-old is okay.

If I'm open with them,
then they'll be open with me.

Yeah.
Turning the other cheek's
a good strategy in boxing.

Kids don't lie because
they got trust issues.

They lie because
they've got something to hide.

Look at him. He's sitting there
doing nothing and he's still lying.

We don't lie to Jack.

- Spelling test you failed and forgot to...
- No.

- Math test?
- No.

Fight with the kid
sitting next to you?

He doesn't sit next to me.

- And the other one's probably having sex.
- I am not.

Yet. But when you start,
you're gonna lie about it.

- Colder.
- I'm not playing.

Keep very still for me, Jack.
This won't take long.

How much dope did you smoke?

- Does he have to be here?
- No. Ignore him.

- It's not his lungs.
- I never said it was.

What about the cigarettes?

How'd you quit?
Gum? The patch? Hypnosis?

He went from two packs to nothing, cold turkey.

Or we could just make small talk.

You still seeing
that nurse in Pedes?

I just don't think
she's right for you.

You need someone detached,
calculating, ambitious.

You need yourself in a skirt.

- Jack, he asked you a question.
- I didn't really quit.

I just sort of
lost taste for it.

Interesting.

Sounds like one of those symptom thingies.

He's still puking,
and he had a heart attack
and itchy feet.

- It's not his lungs.
- I never said it was.

Ice cold.

I'm injecting ergonovine
to see if your heart attack

was caused by
a spasm in the vessels
surrounding your heart.

Let me know if
anything feels...unusual.

If the problems are at
my heart, why did that other
doctor look at my brain?

Yeah. Why did
that other doctor
look at his brain?

We're just trying to eliminate
as many possibilities
as we can.

So because you think that a spasm caused
his heart attack, you're gonna induce another spasm?

Did you consent to this?

Everything's under control.

Tests are gonna identify
which arteries are affected
so we can repair them.

Your meds don't seem
to be doing anything.

So either you're wrong, or his system hasn't
been pushed enough to set anything off.

You wanna get back home,
right?

I mean, you're probably
already falling behind with
the housework and the bills.

How many sick days
you think you'll get
before they replace you?

Heart rate's up. Nothing else.

They can't fire me
if I'm sick.

Right. You're irreplaceable.

Who else would they find
qualified to dance
with a rodent?

How can you even
support your family?

What happens when those kids
grow out of their clothes?
When they get sick?

Still no spasm.

They'll take those kids
away from you, Jack.

Maybe I should bring them
in here right now so that
you can kiss them goodbye.

Can't you see
his heart is fine!
Stop torturing him!

What kind of doctor are you?

Wonderful.
Thank you so much. Okay, bye.

- You're just getting here?
- Busses suck.

- Where's your car?
- It's a hostage.

Tritter wants me to
testify against House.

- You're not going to.
- Is that a question or an order?

Any sort of conviction
will cost House
his license...

Which will cost
this hospital.

Relax. I'm not gonna mess
with your precious resource.

I told my lawyer to
tell Tritter to go to hell.

Marco!

Why are all my prescriptions
getting bounced back?

Sorry, Dr. Wilson.
I was trying to call you.
Where's your phone?

In my car. My patients, on the other hand, are here
and needed their medications.

I'm sorry. I can't.
Your DEA number's
been suspended.

Why so sad?

There's still a chance
that Chase got it right.

That was suspenseful
for about two seconds.

Blood culture was
negative for bacteria.

But positive for hepatitis A?

I wonder who could've ordered
that extra test.

Must be somebody who knew
what persistent vomiting,

sudden distaste for nicotine
and itchy feet have in common.

Hep A doesn't explain
the heart attack.

No. But as Chase so deftly
pointed out earlier,
puking does.

And hep A
explains the puking.

If this had been real life
instead of just a game...

The DEA just revoked
my prescription privileges.

Well, who's gonna
prescribe my Vicodin?

Yes, well, that's why I'm here.
This is a disaster for you.

Relax.

Tritter's just getting
desperate. He's got
no real evidence.

He's trying to
squeeze you into ratting.

I'm not gonna
let him squeeze my patients.

They'll be fine.

Most of your cancer medicine
sucks anyway.

I'm gonna use your team
to do my prescribing until
this is straightened out.

Suddenly this doesn't seem
nearly as dramatic.

Go pump IVIG into the kid,
cure him and
get him out of here.

Hep A?

No.
"Chase, blood test for bacteria.

"Foreman, MRI,
too stubborn to
check the lungs.

"Cameron, nice try. No spasm."

"But the princess sat
and sat and sat,

"pretending not to listen."

Pretending to write
in her journal
with the flowers on it.

Pretending she didn't like stories

about eight-year-olds
who save the world.

I'm 1 1 .

Which is why
you can no longer
save the world.

- I'm eight!
- Yeah.

We're all completely
dependent on you.

- Morning.
- Morning.

Good news.
We can take you off the IVIG.

The hep A has cleared your system.

You'll be good to go by tomorrow.

How do you think I got it?

Well, it could've been
contaminated food.

It could've been from cleaning
the bathrooms at work.

Or it could've been...

Don't worry.
They've heard it all.

Anilingus is a common way.

You should just tell the people that you've dated they
should get themselves checked.

Don't worry. I've been too busy
chasing after these guys to go spelunking.

You're gross.

I think.

- Does your arm hurt?
- Arm's fine, bro.

- Then why's it bleeding?
- It's not. It's...

Raise your arm
above your head.

Your ear...

And your nose...

High PT and PTT
on Jack's blood panel
confirm a coagulopathy.

So, we cure the hep A,

something else pops up.
Interesting.

What infections cause DIC?

You okay?

Hurt my shoulder
playing fantasy football.

Shall we discuss what causes DIC, or should we just send
the kid back to his miserable life?

- He's not miserable.
- Right.

He's thrilled that
his parents are dead
and his life is over.

The restaurant's probably
teeming with E. coli,
Eikenella and strep.

Kids don't wash their hands
between the potty
and the party and...

Or it's a food-borne toxin.
Jack eats at that cesspool
every day.

And Jack's the only one
who got sick?

Kid's got tattoos, piercings and probably
some nasty little girl who loaned him the hep A.

Could've also given him
syphilis or gonorrhea.

- I need one of you.
- Take Cameron.

Your idea was dumb anyway.

Chase, I need you to head back
to that cesspool and
get me the kid's puke.

Foreman, do an LP
and have Cameron run down
that potty-party theory.

Why don't I just test him?

Let's not discuss this
in front of the help.

The amount of vomiting
that kid did,

there wouldn't be enough
toxins left in his system
to show up in his blood.

And since he vomited
in the toilet here
instead of on somebody,

that restaurant
is our only source
of essential vomit.

And you couldn't say that
in front of Foreman?

No, I couldn't say this
in front of Foreman.

I need a refill.

Detective Tritter knows about
the scripts I wrote before.

Exactly. If you stop now,
it'll look suspicious.

- Does anyone fall for that argument?
- Write the script.

No.

One prescription
isn't gonna make...

We both know
it's not gonna be just one.

I'd rather lose my job
than lose my license.

Daniel Silvers, prostate
cancer. Needs filgrastim,
two-week supply.

Andrea Donovan, breast cancer.
Just needs her refill on her megestrol.

- You're not writing.
- You want me to write?

Well, you could phone them in.

But eventually, yeah, probably somebody's gonna
want something written down.

- I haven't met these people.
- I have.

- I've diagnosed them and everything.
- I know.

- I know. I'm not saying I don't trust you.
- Just my diagnoses.

These are gonna be
my prescriptions. I...

They're my patients.

- My prescriptions.
- My name!

That Tritter will read
on the script.

He wants to make you
miserable. You don't think
he's gonna ask questions?

Is there anything Jack does
that no one else does?
Any special duties?

No, we got lots of bussers.

What kind of cleaning products
do you use?

We got a bunch of kids
running around, sticking
everything in their mouths,

so we can't use
anything toxic.

This is it. Monday's trash.

So there's no one
who can maybe help
get the bags out?

Sorry. Short-handed.

I can tip.

I'm pretty sure Jack's puke is in a blue trash
bag with the wrapped gifts,

but if you find spaghetti
that's the wrong vomit.

How much longer
do I have to stay on
this medication?

I mean, I'm nauseous
all the time.

Maybe I should go back
on the tamoxifen.

You're doing so much better
on the anastrozole, Beth.

I'm reluctant to
make a change.

I can't play with my daughter

or pick her up from school.

I can barely get up
and tuck her in at night.

There's got to be
something else.

Who is she?

Well, as you know,
this is a teaching hospital.

- She's a student?
- No, I'm a doctor. I'm assisting Dr. Wilson today.

Why? Do you think he got
my diagnosis wrong?

- No. I'm sure...
- No. No.

She's just consulting
regarding my prescriptions.

You think he got
my meds wrong?

- No. It's just...
- No.

Then why is she here?

What are you doing now?

I'm gonna get a sample
of your brother's
spinal fluid.

- Where's Will?
- School.

Is that gonna hurt?

It's gonna help us figure out
what's making him sick.

- Shouldn't you be in class, too?
- Teacher work day.

For you but not Will?

Yeah, didn't make
sense to me, either.

Can I help?

Well, I guess it's quicker
than calling a nurse

and a truant officer.

Okay, grab his shins
and push his knees up
towards his chest.

Now hold him there tight.

This all nurses do?

My boss doesn't trust them
to do anything else.

Is he gonna die?

No. No one's gonna die.

In the whole world ever?
That's so great.

- I meant...
- I know what you meant.

But I also know
bad things do happen.

My dad always had a few drinks
when they went out.

Always said
he'd be okay to drive.

Until he wasn't.

I would just like
some warning this time.

We're nowhere near
anything like that
happening right now. Okay?

Let's get him back over.

What was that?
What did you do?

- You broke his rib?
- I barely touched him.

Which means...

- Found it.
- Fix it.

Osteomyelitis.
Means the infection's
spread to his bones,

which means
it's either bacterial
or viral and not...

I hired you to
take away the pain.
Was there some confusion?

Ever thought about
using your cane
on the proper side?

Yeah, that's the issue.

Friday night my cane
suddenly noticed
it was on the wrong side.

- Can you score me some Vicodin?
- No.

I did a needle aspiration
to confirm which...

How long till the culture's...

Why do you only do that
when I'm talking?

You gotta rest your shoulder.

And we're gonna get you
on some different equipment.

- Nice cane.
- If I know what you mean.

- Chase, you can stop doing that.
- I'm almost finished.

He's got osteomyelitis.

Means you're wrong
about food-borne toxins.

And you can stop, too.

- It's syphilis.
- You sure?

Read the print out.

He's also positive
for Eikenella.

One of you two screwed up.

- No.
- Not a chance.

Or this kid is a lot sicker
than we thought.

Finish that test.

Should be impossible
to get two right answers
to one question.

It's okay to have three?

Apparently.
He's positive for botulism, too.

So, we knock down
one infection and
three more pop up.

I think this game is rigged.

Jack?
Somebody help!

We've managed to
clear all three infections
out of his system,

but now he's having seizures
every few hours.

He's gotta be
immunocompromised.

No. White count was normal,
and he was negative for HIV.

Well, if he's not immunocompromised,
why is he acting like he's immunocompromised?

What do
the seizures tell us?

Nothing. There were no structural
abnormalities on the CT,

nonfocal neuro exam,
no electrolyte imbalance.
Nothing.

What do unexplained seizures
and really sick 18-year-olds
have in common?

You thinking trauma?

I'm thinking drugs.

He's an admitted user.

The drugs trashed
his immune system.

Tox screen was clean.

Clean tox screen means
there's no drugs
in his blood or urine.

There could still be drugs
trapped in his fat cells
from the good old days.

If they're in his fat,
why would they be
affecting him now?

The keen observer would notice

that he's had some digestive issues lately.

His weight loss could've burned off fat cells
and released the drugs back into his system.

There's no way
to know. It's impossible to
test fat cells for drugs.

But it's not impossible
to make him lose more weight.

You want us to starve him so we can drive him
into another seizure? Maybe a heart attack?

Just so we can run
another tox screen?

That'd be cruel.
Just sweat it out of him.

I haven't touched a thing
since the night
my parents died.

Drugs stay in your system
a long time.

I was high the night
the cops came to
tell us what happened.

You know the first thing I did
when they told me?

I laughed.

I'm not the person
I was when they died.

I wish they could see that.

Well, I'm sure
they're watching,
and I'm sure they're proud.

That's what Will's
guidance counselor
keeps telling him.

What do you tell him?

I tell him it's crap.

Our parents live on
in our memories,
but they don't live on.

- Jack?
- Hold him still.

- Don't break his arm.
- We'll fix it.

We need to get a sample.

House.
Bad news.

Look at you.

You couldn't have sent Cameron down here to
this air-conditioned hallway to deliver the bad news?

Jack seized again,
but his blood was clean.
Completely drug free.

So he just happened to have
a seizure at the exact time
that we stuck him in a sauna?

It's not a coincidence.

He's still seizing every
few hours whether we stick
him in a sauna or not.

Oh, my God!
Why are you using that?

I've had it for years.

No, that's...
That's gonna make
your shoulder hurt.

You need one of these.

He's a doctor.

- Is he still infection-free?
- I'm sure not for long.

My point being that something
other than those infections
caused these seizures.

Means there's something
in his head. Scan him.

- We scanned him.
- Well, that was then.

This is not then. Kid keeps
changing. Scan him again.

Where is Cameron?

I am not writing you
a script for Vicodin.

I've only got two pills left.

Cut them in half.
Then you'll have four.

You're prescribing for Wilson. Wilson
prescribes for me. Write up a script.

You know
you have a problem.

Yeah. It's got a badge
and everything.

- You're taking too much...
- Fine! You're right.

What's the correct amount?

Write up a script
for the correct amount.

No answer?

That's 'cause we're having the wrong debate.

This has got nothing to do with my problem
and everything to do with you avoiding a problem.

You're afraid that if you write me a prescription
you're gonna wind up like Wilson.

Of course I am.

Tritter wants to win
by giving pain.

Do you really want
to be a part of that?

As a doctor,
how do you do that?

Here.
This'll tide you over.

Takes the edge off my PMS.
Should do wonders for you.

Why are you
looking at my head again?

Seizures usually indicate
something neurological.

I'm not gonna get better.
Am I?

We'll know more
after the test.

I've gotta find out
who can take care of
Will and Kama.

Let's not get ahead
of ourselves, okay?

You'll be home yelling at them
and kicking their butts
before you know it.

This kid might be facing a terminal disease,
and he's more worried about his brother and sister.

- Brain stem's clean.
- Nothing in the midbrain.

What's that?

The frontal lobe,
upper-right quadrant.

I don't see anything.

There.

It's tiny,
but I think it's a tumor.

That size should be excisable.

- Why didn't we see it earlier?
- How could... Oh, God!

Axial view. There's another one.
Bring up the next slice.

They're everywhere.

Jack's brain is riddled with tumors.
And you know what he's doing?

- Moaning?
- Setting up play dates.

- Wow, what a guy. Theories?
- The obvious one,

brain cancer destroyed his immune system,
left him wide open for these infections.

House, you're pathetic.

You'll analyze
anyone's faults,
hypocrisies, weaknesses,

but this kid's got some strength, and all of a sudden
there's no time to talk about anything but the medicine.

He's teaching pre-pubescent
kids that truth matters,
God doesn't and life sucks.

I like him. Treatment?

We need to
start him on radiation.

That'll destroy
whatever's left of
his immune system.

And save his life!

I know the notion
of self-sacrifice
is foreign to you...

You wanna think that he's
sacrificing himself because
if one person can do it,

then maybe the world
isn't the cold, selfish place
you know that it is.

Radiation could kill him.
Alternatives?

There aren't any.
We saw the tumors...

We could choose
to say they aren't tumors.

They're just pus,

which would explain why they
weren't there yesterday.

It can't be an infection.

- He got IVIG, broad-spectrum antibiotics...
- Exactly.

Creates a perfect world for fungus,

moves in, gets married,
has little fungi...

If you're wrong about
the fungus, you're wasting
what little time he has left.

Not a big sacrifice.
His life sucks.

So let's be right.
Go stick a needle
in the kid's head.

If you suck out a liquid, then I'm right
and we haven't answered anything.

If you suck out a solid,
you're right and no more
worrying about play dates.

Okay. Fine.
I'll father your child.

First, you got to write me
a Vicodin prescription,

- just so I can get through the foreplay.
- How many days do you have left?

Could probably get through
maybe the next minute or so.

And your coming to me means your lackeys actually
stood up to you. I'm impressed.

- Yes, their cowardice is inspiring.
- Well, you should be thanking them.

If they caved,
it'd give the cops evidence

that you intimidated
underlings to
feed your addiction.

I hate writing
thank-you notes.

Would it be weird if I asked
Cameron to write them?

You're hooking me up?

Unfortunately,
if I cut you off,
it'd give the cops evidence

that you don't really
need the pain meds.

I knew that cleavage
was a smokescreen.
You're a genius.

- You can't lift your arm.
- You can't pee standing up.

Gimme. You been doing physio?
Maybe you pulled...

Yeah. Been training for Pants-Off Dance-Off.
Give me the script.

Your shoulder problem
isn't physical.

We'll find out
if you ever give me that...

What's new?
What's different?

Any big changes in your life recently?
Fight with the wife maybe?

It's good.
Means your shoulder's
a human being.

It's a start.

- I'm right. Right?
- Yeah. Just not about me.

I was right, right?

They were abscesses
from a fungal infection.
Aspergillus.

But we still have
no idea why.

Our kid's immune system
has a factory defect.

- It's genetic.
- It can't be genetic.

He would've been
getting infections
since he was an infant.

Not if he grew up in a bubble.

Or if he grew up on Mars.

No germs there, either.

I don't mean a literal bubble. A sweet suburban bubble
where mommies and daddies protect their children.

They die. Bubble bursts.

Continuing emotional trauma
triggers the genetic illness.

Question is, which one?

The infections
he's contracted
narrow down the possibilities.

Hep A indicates
a problem with his B cells.

- Bruton's Agammaglobulinemia?
- Eikenella.

Points to
a complement deficiency.

- I have a patient. I need...
- Not now.

- I'll go.
- You'll stay.

- Patient's dying.
- So is mine.

Not in the next hour.

What does
the syphilis tell us?

What does it tell us?

It could mean
chronic granulomatous disease.

And the aspergillus is
a T cell issue. Common
variable immunodeficiency.

Genetic testing's
gonna take time.

Given the rate
he's picking up infections...

Why don't we
turn it into a race?

Little late to be
playing games with us.

Not you guys. The infections.

What infections?

The infections
we're gonna give him.

The only way to cure me
is to make me sicker?

Each of the four possible genetic conditions
is most susceptible to different types of infection.

What's that?

This is a cocktail of
serratia, meningococcus,
cepacia and rhinovirus.

Whichever germ gains the most ground
plants the flag of its leader,

gives us our answer.

And how are you
gonna know which one
gains the most ground?

Well, that's the fun part.

See, if the meningococcus
is king of the hill, you get
to have another seizure.

Serratia will shut down
your lungs.

If it's cepacia,
you'll have a heart attack.

And if it's the rhinovirus,
you'll sneeze.

They can't all be dramatic.
We good?

- Hell, no.
- Well, the alternative is we guess,

and there's a three out of four chance

that your little brother
and sister will get to
cry over another coffin.

You study fractions in school?
We good?

And this test isn't
exactly FDA approved,

so let's just keep it
our little secret, okay?

Little Orphan Annie and
Oliver Twist slept in
our hallways last night.

Are they singing?

They're children.
They need a guardian.

Couldn't find a babysitter

on account of not being able to make any phone calls,
on account of not being able to breathe,

on account of his lungs
filling up with serratia.

He has chronic
granulomatous disease.

Game over.
Our work is done.

Then he's gonna keep getting sick.
You gotta call Social Services.

Bone marrow transplant
would re-boot
his whole immune system.

He'll be healthy enough to win
Miserable Daddy of the Year.

So see if one of
his kids is a match.

My kids are
already testing his kids.

- Will's a match.
- You tested him?

- I never consented for that.
- It's just a blood draw. There's no danger.

To the testing.
What about the surgery?

The risk for Will
is next to nothing.

What if I don't do it?
What are my other options?

Your immune system
can't fight off the germs

we all come into contact
with every day.

Now that we know,
we can use more
targeted medications,

but you'll still get sick
all the time.

- You'll be in and out of hospitals...
- But I'll live.

Jack,

your lifespan will be
substantially shortened.

And you'll be too sick
to care for your brother
and sister anymore.

You shouldn't have
pressured him into...

- There was no pressure.
- He's eight years old!

You tell him his brother's dying unless he helps.
What do you think he's gonna do?

- He wants to help you.
- He has no idea.

It's like you asked him to
let me play with one of his toys.

This is surgery.

He could die.
He'll be fine. But you...

You're gonna have a hard time
protecting him like this
if you're dead.

I'll do it...

when Will's 18
and can decide for himself.

- Noble.
- Moronic.

It's a synonym.

Why can't you accept
he wants to
protect his brother?

Has to protect his brother.
Doesn't want to.

Wants to run screaming
from protecting his brother.

You're a hypocrite.

"Evidence is everything.
Truth is all that matters."

Except when
it comes to people.

Everything we've learned
about this kid says
you're wrong.

But you can't accept that.

It's easy to
reject the diagnosis.

Not so easy to reject your misanthropy,

because then you'd have to give people a fighting chance.

And that scares
the crap out of you.

Okay.

Let's get some evidence.

It's your lucky day.

Just found another
donor in the registry.
Perfect match.

We can do the transplant
with no danger to the rug rat.

Just have to sign here.

Unless there's another reason
you don't want it.

- There's a chance I'd die.
- A chance you'll be cured.

Maybe you don't
want that, either.

Maybe hanging out in a hospital getting waited on hand and foot

reminds you of what life used
to be like before

you were forced to play Mister Mom.

I don't like being sick.

But you don't want
to be healthy, either.

This is your way out.
Guilt free.

I said I'd do it
when Will's 18.

And he's able to take care
of himself without you.

Jack, your brother
and sister need you.

I know! I know every second of
every day that they need me,

but I'm too young
to be their dad.

Good for you.

Don't pretend
you're surprised.

Want to go throw stuff
at people off the balcony?

Come on. Mail can wait.

I'm referring my patients to other oncologists.
I'm shutting down my practice.

Oh, good. 'Cause I was afraid
you might overreact.

I can't just ask my patients to wait

because Dr. Cameron's boss
won't let her come out and play!

- I kept you waiting for maybe an hour...
- Three hours!

- Anybody die?
- Not this time.

Cameron's available now.
Use her all you want.

So now's a better time for me
to have my life taken away?

- It fits into your schedule better?
- Oh, poor you.

- Think if you suffer loudly enough...
- You committed a crime!

What do you want me to do?
Turn myself in?

Yes! Yes! Do something!
Go in! Show some remorse!

Tell Tritter
you'll get some help!

I don't need help!

House, get out of here.
Get out of here.

You are not gonna make me
feel guilty about what
Tritter is doing to us.

You already feel guilty.

Your mysterious shoulder pain
isn't coming from your cane.

It's coming from
your conscience.

That used to be enough.

Despite all
your smartass remarks,
I knew you gave a damn.

This time...

You were either gonna
help me through this
or you weren't.

I got my answer.

Who's gonna drive me to school,
help me with my homework?

There'll be a mom
where they take you.

A real mom,
someone who can cook.

Don't worry.
I'll still be able to
see you guys.

- You said you'd make him better.
- I'm sorry.

Thank you
for not telling them.

You're a good kid.

Three months from now,
six months from now,

you'll be visiting them
and you won't be able
to say goodbye.

You're gonna know
you screwed up.

You'll take his bone marrow
and you'll take them back.

And they'll be a burden
and a pain,

and your life will never be
what it was supposed to be.

But you'll be proud
of yourself.

And your parents,
they'll be proud of you.

I don't think so.

It's what I wanna believe.

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