[“Jane Doe” walks up to a house in a run-down looking neighborhood. Music is playing inside; a bouncer stands by the door.]

Jane Doe: Hi. Sounds like a good party.

Bouncer: 20 bucks.

Jane: Okay. No problem, I, ah, I just got it in here somewhere. [rummages in purse] Oh god, I’m - I’m sorry, I guess I must have forgotten to go to the machine.

Bouncer: Yeah, and ah, brush your teeth. Lady, you don’t have two cents.

Jane: I can - I can get it from - from my friend who’s inside, he can give it to me and then I can bring it back out here to you. [During this, a shot of her wrist, which is twitching]

Bouncer: You don’t know anybody here.

Jane: Yes I do! James, he’s blonde and he’s really friendly and he’s a big talker. [on verge of tears] I need to see him.

Bouncer: [pauses, seems to feel sorry for her] Go on in.

[Inside the house music is playing, strobe lights are flashing, people are dancing. A tall girl and a short girl seem to take special note of Jane. ]

Jane: [wanders through rooms, stops by a door in the yellow wall] James? James? James?

Tall Girl: [obviously high] Hi.

Jane: Do you know where James is?

Tall Girl: Oh yeah, he’s, he’s around here somewhere.

[Strobe lights flash; Jane seems mesmerized. We take a CG trip past Jane’s eyes and into her central nervous system, which is sparking like Chevy Chase’s Christmas lights]

Tall Girl: Let’s go find him.

[The previous lines echo strangely in Jane’s head as the girl leads her through the house.]

Jane: Where is he?

Tall Girl: [Grins at Short Girl as she passes by. She shows some pills in her outstretched hand, then pops them in her mouth.]

Jane: I really need to find him

Tall Girl: [stops and kisses Jane, moving the pills to Jane’s mouth in the process]

Jane: [spits pills out] What are you doing?

Short Girl: Bitch! [She shoves Jane into a wall. Jane falls to the floor and stays there.]

[A CG trip through her ear shows Jane’s sparking nerves again. Cut back to blurred shots of party from floor level. Sirens wail, sounds of the party being raided.]

Jane: NO! She’s trying to help me… get off her! [Policeman 1 grabs Jane] Get off me!

Policeman 1: Settle down! [Jane falls limp]

Policeman 2: [to Policeman 1] Move!

Policeman 1: Geez, I didn’t touch her.

Policeman 2: Great. Now we gotta go to the hospital.

[Credits]

[Wilson and Foreman are walking down the hospital hall.]

Wilson: Homeless. Admitted 24 hours ago with a suspected drug overdose. Her tox screen’s clean, but she’s still delusional.

Foreman: Homeless, usually means crazy; no money. Cuddy’s not going to like this –

Wilson: [interrupts] We’re a teaching hospital. No ID. Doesn’t even seem to know her name. I got called in because of some lesions on her arm.

Foreman: Homeless always means no roof, at least, there’s too much sun

Wilson: The lesions were non-cancerous, but I noticed a twitch. Her wrist.

[Cut to Jane lying in hospital bed, wrist twitching. Foreman is poking her finger on the opposite hand. Wilson stands in the background.]

Jane: Mmph

Foreman: You feel that?

Jane: Sure. I’m human.

Foreman: Make a fist around my fingers, tight as you can. Squeeze.

Jane: [grasps weakly] I am.

Foreman: Right. [nods] All right. Raise your arms above your head for me.

Jane: [raises arms halfway] Oh… [arms drop, starts seizing]

Wilson: [rushes forward] She’s seizing. Get me some Ativan.

Foreman: She doesn’t want to be discharged. She’s manipulating me.

Wilson: [holds up Jane’s arm, it snaps back and hits her face] It’s real. Check her finger sticks.

Foreman: Blood sugar’s 38. [nurse rushes in]

Wilson: I need D15. IV push stat.

[Cut to Foreman and Wilson walking down the hall toward the nurses’ station.]

Wilson: Fake low blood sugar. Now that’s acting.

Foreman: The blood sugar was real. But she’s probably diabetic. OD’d on her own insulin. [to nurse at desk] I need 2032. Do you have her effects out here? [to Wilson] Look, a seizure buys her a place to sleep while the nice doctors run their tests, maybe a few free meals. [nurse places bag on counter, Foreman look at it] $20 says there’s insulin in here. [Foreman opens the bag, makes face and turns away because of stench] Oh… put this back, please.

Wilson: What about the twitch?

Foreman: Her arm moved.

Wilson: Why fake a twitch? In case the seizure was too subtle? A twitch could indicate a tumor, which could indicate–

Foreman: [interrupts] A need to see a neurologist, which is why you called me. Keep an eye on her until 2:00 PM, watch her blood sugar, give her a nice hot lunch, and discharge her.

Wilson: [sighs and nods]

[Cut to Wilson, catching up with House in the hallway.]

Wilson: He’s wrong

House: Foreman is wrong? The neurologist is wrong, about a neurological problem?

Wilson: He took one look at her and figured it was a scam.

House: So, you figure he’s not being objective

Wilson: [exasperated] House, the woman had a twitch. She had a seizure.

House: Both of which Foreman saw?

Wilson: He just wanted her out the door!

House: Whoah, whoah, whoah, back up there, big fella. Foreman’s the guy you want to take a swing at.

Wilson: [frustrated sigh] I - just - want her to get some medical attention.

House: [starts to look interested] That’s not even close to being true. Something else. Something personal. [pauses] Give me the file. Looks like this will be fun.

[Cut to conference room]

Cameron: The twitch could be a mini-seizure, unrelated to the diabetes.

Chase: Brain tumor? [Foreman enters]

House: Glad you could join us, Eric. What’s the differential for a twitch in the wrist?

Foreman: The patient’s a thirty-ish Jane Doe. I just thought I’d discharge her. [glares at Wilson]

Wilson: [glares back] Well, she’s my patient. No harm in a second opinion.

Chase: A blow to the head? A subdural hematoma?

Foreman: Read the file, no evidence of cranial trauma.

Cameron: A twitch could indicate a brain tumor

Foreman: Or about a dozen other things. Come on, there’s two things homeless people are good at – getting sick, and running scams. If you’re so worried about it being a brain tumor, get her an MRI, when she’s clear on that, then you can bounce her out of here. 

Wilson: Well, you’ve got her all figured out.

Foreman: [flips open a magazine] I’ve known a lot more homeless people than you have.

Wilson: Yes, you’ve got that going for you. How could I have doubted your medical opinion?

House: The big question, you’re missing it, all of you. [He drops Jane’s smelly bag on the table.]

Foreman: Oh, geez.

House: Who is she?

Foreman: Okay. Why are we on this case – just because Wilson asked?

Wilson: [opens mouth in protest]

House: Do I need a better reason?

Foreman: Most people wouldn’t, you do.

House: [dumps contents of smelly bag on table, everyone turns away in disgust] The only thing we know for sure about Jane Doe is that her name isn’t Jane Doe. Which means no medical history. Allergies, medication, previous diagnoses, treatment – we have no baseline, no context for medical treatment.

Foreman: [holds up a needle] Wow. Looks just like insulin. [looks at Wilson]

House: [holds up a sweater] Vomit. Still moist. [sniffs] What do you think - a couple of days old? [puts it in Chase’s face]

Chase: Uhhh… trying to make me hurl?

House: Yeah. And here’s the big finish… [licks fingers]

Cameron: [muffled noise, as if about to be sick]

House: Salty. Chemical imbalance.

Wilson: Low magnesium could cause a twitch.

House: Or high calcium. Or it’s a coincidence. The point is, we don’t know anything.

Foreman: [exasperated] So do the MRI. Find out –

House: The MRI can wait. Hang a banana bag, give her 24 hours to correct the electrolyte imbalance, we’ll take it from there.

Wilson: Great. Thanks. [nods and leaves]

[House and Foreman exchange glances, Chase and Cameron leave.]

Foreman: Okay. Even if she’s not faking, what’s so fascinating about this case?

House: At the moment, how much you don’t want me to take it. That’s pretty fascinating.

[Cut to Jane’s hospital room. She’s sketching a picture of Foreman and herself, with a bubble over his head that reads ‘Where’s James’. Chase is attaching the banana bag, while Foreman does something in background]

Chase: Nice likeness of Dr. Foreman. In fact, he’s never looked better.

Jane: [glances at Foreman] He doesn’t like me. I can tell.

Chase: That’s okay. He doesn’t like me either. Who’s James?

Jane: [reaches for face] Ow! Oh!

Chase: Pain in your head?

Jane: [thrashes about, knocking away lunch tray] Get away from me.

Foreman: [racing forward] All right, let’s get it out. One milligram of Ativan, push.

Jane: NO! NO! NO! NO! [bites Foreman’s arm as he reaches across bed]

Foreman: She bit me!

Chase: Good news is, she’s negative for HIV and hep-C.

Foreman: Yeah? Well, I’m getting a tetanus shot, she’s getting an MRI.

Chase: There’s a two day wait for non-emergency MRIs.

Foreman: She’s getting an MRI. And then she’s out of here. [leaves room]

[Cut to nurses’ station, where rich looking patient with awful hair is waiting in a wheelchair]

Angela: Now Dr. Terharg specifically said I’d have the MRI at 10:00, it’s almost 11:00, and I haven’t even had the pretest yet.

Nurse: Sorry, we’re a little backed up.

Patient: Uh!

Foreman: [walks up, looking at slip of paper] Excuse me, you’re Dr. Terharg’s 10:00?

Patient: I’m Angela Whitney. I’m meeting my decorator at 11:30, she’s coming all the way from New York. Dr. Terharg promised I’d be home in time.

Foreman: Of course. [He wheels the patient away, trading a slip of paper with one Chase is holding as he walks past in the opposite direction, wheeling Jane]

[Jane is just going into MRI as Foreman and the technician watch on. Cuddy walks up behind them.]

Cuddy: She’s just about prepped for her MRI? Mrs. Whitney?

[MRI shuts off abruptly]

[Cut to Cuddy’s office, where House and Foreman sit waiting. House is examining a letter opener on Cuddy’s desk.]

Cuddy: [enters] You tried to steal someone else’s test?

Foreman: Dr. Terharg is a plastic surgeon. The woman was getting a six-month checkup on a chin implant.

Cuddy: [grabs letter opener from House] I can’t believe you authorized this.

House: Really? Sounds exactly like something I’d do.

Cuddy: She can’t have an MRI. The CT scan shows she has a surgical pin in her arm, the MRI magnet would have ripped it out of her body. You like the Alien movies? You had no medical history, what were you thinking?

House: We’ll surgically remove the pin, then do the MRI, does that sound good?

Cuddy: She has an electrolyte imbalance.

House: Dr. Foreman, a neurologist, believes this woman has a brain tumor.

Foreman: Actually, I –

House: [glares at Foreman] Hey, don’t ever apologize for a medical opinion. [to Cuddy] If he’s right, we don’t do this test, the patient dies. Now I realize that you have a specialty of your own, but does yours have anything to do with the brain? [nods at Foreman] His does.

Cuddy: Fine. But nothing more until you find out who she is.

Foreman: How are we supposed to –

House: Hey! He knows more homeless people than any of us. [Cuddy and Foreman don’t look amused] Go check out the ‘hood, dawg.

[Cut to one of Jane’s sketches of a storefront, which fades into the real thing. Foreman is showing Jane’s photo to a homeless man.]

Homeless Man: I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot of faces around here but I don’t think I know her.

Foreman: Great.

Homeless Man: Hey, I ah, like that jacket. Yeah, it’s all coming to me now. I know where she keeps her stuff.

[Cut to homeless man putting on Foreman’s jacket. Foreman starts to lift the tarp covering the box where Jane has been living. Bats screech and fly out at him. He backs away quickly.]

Homeless Man: Just bats. [Foreman looks at him incredulously. The homeless man looks down at his new jacket.] I thought the lining would be thicker.

[Foreman carefully lifts the tarp with a long piece of metal. No more bats fly out at him. The only things in the box are a few blankets and a thick, rather nice looking portfolio.]

[Cut to Foreman walking into office. Chase and Cameron are waiting.]

Cameron: No tumor, nothing. Her brain is clear.

Chase: Which means, that girl had surgery just so you wouldn’t get reamed out by Cuddy.

Wilson: [enters] Not necessarily, there could still be something neurological going on.

Foreman: Sure, she’s not conning us, the MRI is.

House: [enters] Not wearing a coat in this weather. That is so wrong.

Foreman: She drew these. [laying several hand-drawn comic books out on table] They might give us a clue.

House: [picks one up] She sign them? Her name would be a start.

Foreman: All the mythology, the locations, they’re all dependant on life experience.

House: [holds up comic book and looks at it] Philadelphia. Look at that skyline! It’s very evocative. The Chrysler Building.

[The ducklings move in to see that House is looking at a picture of a slightly surreal looking desert landscape.]

Foreman: That’s a cloud.

Cameron: And the Chrysler Building’s in New York.

House: Mmm… I’m getting Philly. And that cactus, well, that’s a smashed car – car accident.

Cameron: [doesn’t sound convinced] A cactus in Philadelphia?

House: Water – well, water’s October, right?

Wilson: Obviously.

House: On the page number 22, so that’s October 2^nd, 2002. Ergo, the patient was in a car accident two years ago last October.

Wilson: [quite calmly] My goodness! Was she okay?

House: [squints] Broke her arm, I think. They fixed it – with this. [holds up metal pin]

[Ducklings look relieved to have an explanation.]

House: Surgical pin. Better than a wallet. Serial numbers in case of recall, tied to a patient’s name.

Foreman: That’s why you insisted on the MRI. So you could remove the surgical pin from her arm.

House: You didn’t think I was going to do it to save your sorry ass, did you? [sounds of a fax coming through] You might want to take a look at that. Her name is Victoria Matson, at least that’s the one she used then. Any hospital with the record of treating her should be sending that information.

Foreman: [looks at fax] Oh, crap!

[Cut to the ducklings racing down hall.]

Foreman: Her blood work came back an hour ago, magnesium was normal.

Cameron: Did you change her banana bag?

Foreman: Stopped the magnesium, started iron dextran for severe anemia. [throws up hands] She’s allergic to iron dextran!

[The ducklings rush into Jane-now-known-as-Victoria’s room. All sorts of things are beeping; Victoria is gasping for breath.]

Chase: [to Cameron] Grab some Epi off the code cart. [checks pulse] Respiratory arrest, call the code!

Foreman: [to Victoria] You have an allergic reaction, can you speak? [Victoria continues to gasp]

Chase: She’s not getting any air. Got the Epi. [is handed it, gives Victoria shot in arm]

Cameron: Stats down in the 80s and dropping.

Chase: We have about another minute. [attaches oxygen mask]

[Wilson watches from outside the room]

[Cut to a close up of Victoria’s sketchbook. Her hand twitches, but she seems stable.]

[Cut to the conference room]

Foreman: Well, we got her sedated and stabilized.

House: And we still think there’s nothing wrong with her?

Foreman: Well, nothing’s changed.

House: We almost killed her – that’s different. And we know who she is.

Cameron: So far we’ve heard from three hospitals with records of Victoria Matson. Seven visits, going back two years.

Wilson: Any home addresses?

Cameron: The pin in her arm went in during an ER visit. She wasn’t conscious, so they didn’t get an address. The other visits she gave fake addresses.

Wilson: Any treatment for neurological problems, anything that might explain the twitch?

Cameron: Last winter, Jefferson Hospital in Philly, got treated for frostbite.

Foreman: Baby, it’s cold outside.

Cameron: And depression. They put her on Prozac.

Wilson: Well, I’d be bummed out too. Zero degrees, living in a box.

House: Put her back on it. She cheers up; she might stop biting people

Chase: There’s a billing record from Hartman Hospital last year. Two appointments, ultrasounds, doesn’t say what for.

Foreman: Pregnant?

Chase: Only if she was expecting an elephant. The appointments were ten months apart. Kept the first, blew off the second.

Wilson: Abdominal pain.

Foreman: The chart doesn’t say –

Wilson: [interrupts] Wait a minute. She goes in the first time, they look, they can’t find anything. Ten months later, why should she subject herself to that again?

Foreman: Why make a second appointment?

Wilson: She didn’t. The nurse made the appointment. They were looking – they were looking for ovarian cancer.

Chase: [snorts]

Foreman: You got all of that from one cancelled appointment?

Wilson: With Jerry Lousing, yeah. He’s an oncologist.

Chase: Hang on, her current blood work doesn’t show cancer. CA125 is normal.

Foreman: And the cancer wouldn’t account for the alleged twitch, or any other of her alleged symptoms.

House: Actually, it would. Neoplastic Syndrome associated with the cancer could cause her to twitch like a bunny on crystal meth. Ultrasound her ovaries.

[Cut to Cuddy and House walking down hall toward the clinic.]

Cuddy: Did you find a brain tumor on her MRI?

House: No. Foreman was wrong. I’m starting to wonder about that guy’s medical chops.

Cuddy: Right. [stops at clinic waiting room] Shelley Diamond?

Shelley: [A lady holding one child and surrounded by others looks up] Yes?

Cuddy: Dr. House is ready to see you now. [hands House the file]

Shelley: The little ones are licking each other again, and Harry’s got a seeping wart on his extra toe. What room should we go to?

House: [fake sneeze] You know, I think I might be coming down with something. Hate to give it to you guys. Sorry. [starts walking toward exit]

Cuddy: Oh yeah. Just walk out, like I’m not going to do anything.

House: [turns] Bye-bye. [keeps walking]

[Cut to House in office with feet propped up on desk. He’s flipping through the pages from Victoria’s portfolio, which have been put together to form a comic book. Foreman enters.]

Foreman: Working hard?

House: This stuff’s pretty good. Calendrica, works for the counseled genius. Bad guy’s Mr. Fury, fairly generic, no special skills, but apparently very well organized. Think you work hard, try ruling the universe.

Foreman: You trying to teach me something here?

House: We’ve got the flowing dress, the ring. Think the patient was married? Maybe it was a bad break up, maybe he dumped her cause she was on drugs.

Foreman: You care about her personal history?

House: Nope. Question is, why don’t you? [Foreman looks away] I hate to cite a cliché, but – Dad on the streets?

Foreman: [short laugh] Dad’s with Mom.

House: They’re both living on the streets?

Foreman: No! On a pension.

House: So who pissed you off?

Foreman: Pfft. Right now, you.

[House sets aside the comic. Cut to House and Wilson strolling down hall]

House: Your turn, you gonna tell me why this case?

Wilson: She’s my new girlfriend, I’m having a tattoo designed, I was hoping you could find out her name.

House: So she’s just another sick person the kindly Dr. Wilson has made sure doesn’t get lost in the big ugly system.

Wilson: Yes, I forgot, I need a reason to give a crap.

House: You’re giving two craps.

Wilson: The metric system always confuses me.

Cuddy: [walks up with two college-age girls wearing lab coats] Dr. House.

House: Time for Girl Scout cookies already?

Wilson: Get me some Thin Mints. [turns and leaves]

Cuddy: Since you’re too sick to work in the clinic –

House: [makes big show out of stifling pretend sneeze] Okay.

Cuddy: – I thought you –

House: [huge, loud sneeze]

Cuddy: - I thought you could do some teaching. Patient histories.

House: My specialty.

Cuddy: When you teach, you learn so much, don’t you think?

House: It’s all about the giving back. [Cuddy walks off, House turns to students] Good old Cuddy. Always thinking. She assign you a patient to interview? [reaches for pills]

Students: Mmmhmm.

House: Then why are you still here?

[Students have looks of dawning realization, turn to go. House pops Vicodin.]

 [Cut to Cameron and Chase in Victoria’s room. Cameron is smearing jelly on an unconscious Victoria for an ultrasound.]

Chase: Why are we on this case?

Cameron: Because Wilson asked House to do him a favor.

Chase: I think House just wants to prove she’s sick so Foreman will be wrong.

Cameron: [with a sigh] Oh, you boys.

Chase: Hey, I’m just doing my job. [looks at ultrasound] Whoah. [pauses] Foreman’s going to be so embarrassed when he finds out she’s got cancer.

[Cut to House, sitting in clinic looking at files. Wilson enters.]

Wilson: Oh. I thought you were too sick to be down here.

House: Had to get away from those students so I faked a page. [flips through file] Foreman’s parents, happily married, 40 years.

Wilson: Mazel Tov.

House: Keinahora. So, why does he hate homeless people? If it’s an uncle or a grandparent you’d think he’d use it in his college application essay. Family struggles beats a 4.0 GPA any day.

Wilson: I think he had a 4.0

House: Maybe he’s just a snob.

Wilson: You really don’t need to know everything about everybody.

House: I don’t need to watch the OC, but it makes me happy.

Wilson: Yeah, delirious. What’s the other file?

House: Wilson, James. Boy wonder oncologist. You know him?

Wilson: You know, in some cultures, it’s considered almost rude for one friend to spy on another. Of course, in Swedish, the word friend can also be translated as ‘limping twerp’.

[House’s pager starts to beep]

Wilson: Did your pager really just go off, or are you ditching the conversation?

House: Why can’t both be true? Come on.

[Cut to the team checking out Victoria’s sonogram.]

Wilson: Solid non-cystic mass on the left ovary. Five by three centimeters, central necrosis. The only question is whether she dies in two months or three.

Foreman: Oh, God.

Wilson: You were right. There’s nothing we can do for her here. Might as well put her back on the street.

House: Unless it’s not cancer.

Chase: Oh, you’re joking.

House: Well, hard not to – nothing funnier than cancer. But what if it’s a tuberculoma. She’s living out on the streets, breathing all kinds of crap 24/7. The odds are she’s got TB, why can’t she have a nice benign growth to go with it?

Wilson: A solid mass on her ovary. Ovarian cancer’s way more likely.

House: You’re right. It’s not even close. Start her on INH, Rifampicin and Streptomycin.

Cameron: But that’s the treatment for a tuberculoma.

House: And what is the treatment for advanced ovarian cancer?

Foreman: Pine box.

[Cut to Victoria’s hospital room. She’s sketching Foreman, who is standing nearby.]

Victoria: What are you giving me?

Foreman: A second dose of some antibiotics. If you’ve got a tuberculoma, it should help.

Victoria: I don’t have a tuberculoma, do I?

Foreman: [sighs] Probably not.

Victoria: [looks back down at her sketch]

Foreman: Listen – I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.

Victoria: I’m sorry I lied to you. I took too much insulin on purpose; I really wanted a place to sleep.

Foreman: [nods and looks down at sketch.] Were you ever – married, Victoria? [Victoria shakes her head] But in the comic –

Victoria: No, it’s a comic, comics are just made up.

Foreman: So who’s James? Is he real, or did you make him up?

Victoria: He’s real.

Foreman: Can I help you find him?

Victoria: [looks up at Foreman, then turns to window] The – the light’s bright – it’s getting brighter – [holds up arms to protect face] – ow, ow!

Foreman: Take it easy, take it easy, everything’s fine.

Victoria: Mr. Fury wants to hurt me, please, help me!

Foreman: Wait, wait, wait, hold on… [grabs thermometer and puts it in Victoria’s ear]

Victoria: – turn it off – please turn off the –

Foreman: [looks at thermometer, which reads 105] All right, hold on Victoria. [rushes over to close blinds and turn off light] Take it easy, everything’s fine. Take it easy, everything’s fine, Victoria.

Victoria: I’m burning! It’s burning!

Foreman: [gets glass of water] Hold on. Take a sip, take a sip.

Victoria: [knocks water away] It’s poison, you gave me poison!

Foreman: [grabs needle] Hold on. Take it easy.

[A nurse rushes in and flips on light switch]

Victoria: [screams]

Foreman: Hey, turn off that damn light!

Victoria: Help me, help me, please!

Foreman: [injects her] Take it easy, take it easy. The bad guys can’t get you here, I’ve got you covered.

Victoria: [wails] Mr. Fury’s not the bad guy, I’m the bad guy, it’s me, I’m the bad guy…

[Cut to House, sitting at desk in office. Foreman enters.]

Foreman: It’s not a tuberculoma. Can’t be.

House: I didn’t know the biopsy was back.

Foreman: Her temperature’s 105. Treatment’s not working, it’s cancer. She’s dying.

House: [leans back in chair] 105…

Chase: Good news! It’s a tuberculoma.

Foreman: How do you figure that? Her temp’s through the roof.

Chase: [holds up paper] It’s the lab results from the biopsy, it’s definitely a tuberculoma.

House: [looks at test results] So – we’re right about the diagnosis, and the treatment for that diagnosis is killing her. Perfect.

[Cut to conference room.]

Chase: The lab checked the biopsy again, twice.

Foreman: Well, a tuberculoma doesn’t give you a temperature of 105.

Chase: Then it’s a tuberculoma and something else.

Wilson: [enters] The something else is gonna to melt her brain.

House: Poach. Better metaphor.

Chase: A fever that high has to be bacterial.

Wilson: Maybe the bowel got nicked in the biopsy.

Foreman: I did the biopsy – no nick! She could have picked up an infection on the streets.

Wilson: Well, she didn’t have a fever when I admitted her!

Cameron: The Prozac we’ve given her could have triggered Serotonin Syndrome, which would explain the fever.

Wilson: [interrupts] No! Jefferson put her on Prozac, and it wasn’t a problem.

Foreman: She probably never took it! Most likely they saw her one time and dumped her out of the ER with a script.

Wilson: Oh, just like you were going to do!

House: [turning to face them] Okay you two, grab some scalpels and settle this like doctors. Send blood and urine cultures and get a chest x-ray. And fine, take her off Prozac and put her on Bromocryptin for the Serotonin syndrome.

Chase: Might want to get her in an ice bath as well, assuming we want her to live long enough to see those test results.

[Cut to nurses pouring buckets of ice into a metal tub. Victoria lies nearby on a stretcher.]

Victoria: I said I was sorry.

Foreman: Your fever’s 105. If we don’t bring it down fast –

Victoria: [interrupts] Foreman, why are you doing this to me?

Foreman: We’re saving your life.

Victoria: [gibbers and cries]

Foreman: Hey, come on – you can do this.

[Nurses pick Victoria up and put her in the ice bath. She screams and wails as though the ice is killing her]

Victoria: [looks at Foreman, wails] Ple-ee-ease!

[Cut to aerial view of hospital, then to House’s office. He’s reading Victoria’s comic book. The two med students are standing in front of him.]

Student 1: 17 year old female presents with abrasions and apparent trauma injury to her wrist – Dr. House?

House: Continue.

Student 1: You’re reading a comic book.

House: And you’re calling attention to your bosom by wearing a low-cut top. [looks up] Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were having a state-the-obvious contest. I’m competitive by nature.

Student 2: I thought you were supposed to be listening to our patient histories

House: Nope. I’m supposed to be teaching you. If I can do that without listening, more power to me.

Student 2: 17 year old female –

House: [interrupts] This guy’s supposed to have universal power over all of gravity; how come his hair won’t stay down? That’s just stupid.

Student 2: – she fell off her horse while riding in the county fair.

Student 1: No, she didn’t, she fell off the steps of her beach house, you must have gone to the wrong room.

House: Hard to believe that one patient could slip past Cuddy and get herself admitted with a sprained wrist. Two seems almost impossible - what room?

Students: Room 2106 [the girls look at one another]

House: Patients lie. But usually only one lie at a time; how much does she weigh?

Student 1: It’s her wrist not her –

House: Poundage, ladies, and by the by, what color is her nose?

Student 1: She’s thin –

Student 2: Flesh toned.

Student 1: What does this have to do with her wrist?

House: [pager goes off] Almost nothing. She’s either under 90 pounds, or she has a red nose. I gotta go.

Student 1: What’s wrong with her?

House: That would be telling. [looks at students and smiles] Oh, I am just too nice. It starts with ‘C’. [drops medical dictionary on desk as he leaves]

[Cut to conference room, where team is assembled.]

Chase: Urine cultures are negative.

Cameron: So’s the chest x-ray.

House: I assume there’s a positive coming.

Foreman: Lumbar punctures revealed elevated proteins and white counts.

Wilson: CSF cultures?

Cameron: Still growing. Nothing on Gram Stain. It looks like meningitis.

Chase: We know it’s definitely an infection. And we know where it is.

House: Well, meningitis is nice and simple. Get her in isolation and start her on Ceftriaxone. Either she gets better or she dies. [ducklings walk toward door] Let me know which one happens!

[Cut to the Ducklings entering Victoria’s room. They stop as soon as they enter, they notice Victoria is missing. The sheets are rumpled as if she made a hasty exit.]

Cameron: Oh my God. She was sedated.

Chase: It must have worn off.

Foreman: I – I did it myself, a half hour ago.

Chase: I’ll check the nurse’s station. [leaves]

Foreman: [looking at the wall] Calendrica.

[Foreman and Cameron walk over to the wall, where Victoria has drawn several comic panels, one of a character wandering down a city street crying ‘James’.]

Foreman: She’s gonna die out there.

[Cut to Cuddy’s office.]

Wilson: You don’t walk out of a room with ten milligrams of Haldol in your system, you don’t walk at all.

Foreman: It was ten milligrams, I gave it to her –

Cuddy: [interrupts] It doesn’t matter! Bacterial meningitis, highly contagious, if she is out of the hospital, we are so liable.

Wilson: Not to worry. She’ll be dead before she can kill anybody.

Chase: Security tape confirms it, she stole some clothes and she’s gone.

[Foreman grabs a coat and heads toward the door.]

House: Wrong coat. The cape’s in the closet, I had it cleaned.

Foreman: Funny.

House: You gonna save her?

Foreman: In her comics, Mr. Fury lives in Sloan Harbor. The night she came in, she was at a rave at 1408 Sloan Street.

House: You’ve been reading. My, how you’ve changed.

Cuddy: You are a doctor; do what doctors do. Pick up the phone, dial 911 and a cop on the other end does what cops do and finds the missing person! [House raises eyebrows, Foreman takes off coat] I assume the rest of you have doctor things to do – [looks at House] I know you do.

[Cut to House walking down the hall, med students trailing behind him.]

Student 2: Cacchi-Ricci disease.

House: Do you even know what that is, or are you just guessing everything that starts with ‘C’?

Student 2: The kidney problems could result in weight loss.

House: Cacchi – C-A-C- she’s going alphabetically.

Student 1: Doctor, why are you wearing that bird pin?

House: It sets off my eyes. [smiles and enters room with patient] Hi, Jodi, I’m Dr. House. What brings you to the hospital?

Jodi: My wrist.

House: How did that happen?

Jodi: I was riding the Ferris wheel and this huge seagull flew right at me. [The camera pans from the Ferris wheel on the back of House’s clipboard to the bird pin on his jacket.]

House: How horrifying.

Jodi: I swung my arm at the bird, but I hit the Ferris wheel.

House: [turns to students]

Student 2: She’s making it all up?

House: No, her wrist really does hurt.

Jodi: I’m not lying.

House: Of course you are. You have no idea what happened. You have no memory. [House exits room with students] Korsakoff’s syndrome. Her brain is damaged by excessive drinking or insufficient diet; pretty obviously the latter. She has no new memories, no new ideas, can’t even process that idea. So her brain fills the gaps as best it can using visual clues. The horse on your shirt led her to the riding accident and the surf scene on your clipboard led her to the beach.

Student 2: Korsakoff doesn’t start with a ‘C’.

House: I didn’t say ‘C’. Or did I? Lesson to be learned – treat everybody as if they have Korsakoff’s, we all lie anyway. Give her Thiamine right away, she’ll bounce back pretty quickly. And then get her to eat some cake and ice cream.

Student 1: [opens mouth to speak]

House: Yes?

Student 1: Did you need to be so cruel? I think she’s crying.

[House goes back into patient’s room, Student 2 raises eyebrows at Student 1.]

House: Hi! Jodi, I’m Dr. House. What happened to your wrist?

Jodi: There was this weird old guy, he had a cane –

House: See? It’s like it never happened. Perfect forgiveness.

[Cut to Emergency Room doors slamming open, EMTs wheeling Victoria in on a stretcher.]

EMT: Pulse is rapid.

Foreman: You got a temp?

EMT: Don’t know. She’s warm, but –

Foreman: That’s something to look into; she has meningitis.

EMT: Sorry, I was more worried about her heart blowing up. Pulse is 150.

Foreman: Rhythm regular?

EMT: Yeah.

Foreman: Ready – one, two, three. [They move Victoria from stretcher to gurney.]

Foreman: [to policeman] Where’d you find her?

Policeman: Battlefield State Park

Foreman: {something} Narrow Complex? She wasn’t at Sloan?

Policeman: She was just passed out on the grass.

Victoria: [mutters] Foreman… I need Foreman.

Foreman: All right. Super ventricular tachycardias. Get me Adenosine, one milligram, push. Thank you. [He gives her the injection] Hang in there. [He looks back and forth between monitor and Victoria while she stabilizes]

[Cut to conference room]

Foreman: Her arrythmia stabilized.

Chase: It doesn’t make sense. What would push her heart rate over 150? Dehydration? Fever?

Cameron: Unlikely. By themselves, neither one would do it.

Foreman: We must be wrong about the meningitis. Maybe it’s structural heart disease.

House: Her heart rate dropped when you administered the Adenosine.

Foreman: Two seconds.

House: It’s still meningitis.

Foreman: If it is, with the delay in treatment, she’s got almost no chance.

House: Start the treatment. [leaves room]

[Cut to House and Policeman standing outside the nurses’ station.]

Policeman: [flipping through notepad] Read the report. I found her lying on the grass.

House: You should read my reports. I make up stuff all the time. What really happened?

Policeman: Oh, since it’s you… I found her lying on the grass.

House: Wow. That is a great looking gun. [close up on policeman’s belt]

Policeman: It’s not a gun. It’s a taser.

House: It’s so cool looking. What does it do? Fire about 60,000 volts? At least, that’s what it would take to jack someone’s heart up to 150s.

Policeman: Okay. Okay. Let’s just say I tell you what happened. [leans in] This stays between you and me, right? I found her. Lying. On the. Grass.

House: Fine. [reaches into jacket] Don’t tell me. Tell my friend, Ben Franklin. [holds up $100 bill, then sets it on the counter] I watch a lot of cop shows. 

Policeman: [stares]

[Cut to Victoria lying in bed, unconscious. Foreman is checking her heartbeat]

House: The good news is, the heart rate thing’s not connected to her condition.

Foreman: Well then, she’s dying. The meningitis treatment isn’t helping her, she’s getting worse.

House: Well, that brings us to the bad news. The cop tasered her.

Foreman:[derisive snort] Jerk. Probably couldn’t get to his real gun fast enough.

House: The first time he hit her in the thigh, and she just kept going, like it was nothing. Right about here. [He marks the spot. Victoria doesn’t move; House pokes her with a needle.] She didn’t feel the taser. [pulls down sheets and pokes her toe]

Foreman: Localized numbness?

House: Yeah, in that one spot.

Foreman: The diabetes?

House: I don’t think so. [takes swab of Victoria’s mouth]

Foreman: No alcohol. Not entrapment syndrome. Can’t be a vitamin deficiency. We can’t chase down every sensory neuropathy.

House: Is that where she bit you? [close up of Foreman’s bandaged forearm]

Foreman: Yeah.

[Foreman looks back at Victoria, House jabs him. Foreman doesn’t feel it, but turns back to see a needle sticking out of his arm]

Foreman: What the hell?!

House: Can’t get angry if you don’t feel anything.

[Cut to lab, where House is putting the swab in to test. Team is standing by, anxious.]

House: First there’s localized numbness, then sensitivity to light, disorientation, paranoia, ineffectiveness of sedatives, and then hydrophobia. Fear of water. [machine starts up]

Foreman: Rabies.

Chase: There’ve only been, what, 20 cases in the last ten years?

House: Yeah. That’s because non-homeless people, when they get bitten, they get shots.

Foreman: There were bats.

Wilson: [closes eyes, machine beeps]

Cameron: [looks at test results, draws in breath, looks up without a smile]

Wilson: She’s dying.

[Everyone is silent]

Chase: There’s no treatment.

Cameron: [quietly] How much time does she have?

House: A day, maybe two. [turns to Foreman] And if you don’t get your shot in, say, the next three hours, I’m going to have to make another affirmative action hire.

Wilson: [to Foreman] Come on.

[Cut to Foreman lying on table, Wilson getting ready to give him rabies vaccine]

Foreman: [sigh] Do it. [Wilson sticks needle into Foreman’s stomach] Mmmph.

Wilson: You want me to talk to her?

Foreman: And say what? There’s some experimental treatment, but it’s not gonna work. Don’t worry, we can make you comfortable? Doesn’t matter how. She’s gonna die.

Wilson: Yeah. That’s what you say to her. Keep that there and rest for a minute.

Foreman: Mmm… [gets up]

Wilson: Whoah, whoah, whoah!

Foreman: Tell House I need to go out for about an hour.

Wilson: She may not have that long.

Foreman: I don’t want her to die alone.

Wilson: [putting it together] You’re going to find James.

Foreman: I’m gonna try.

[Wilson nods and follows him]

[Cut to a drawing of the interior of a house with sunny yellow walls and a sweeping staircase. The camera pans up from Victoria’s comic to reveal the present day interior – gray and abandoned. A police siren echoes in the backgorund]

Wilson: Well, I must say – he’s done a lot with the place.

[As Foreman and Wilson walk through the rooms, the viewer starts to realize that this is the same house where the rave at the beginning of the episode took place.]

Wilson: [shouts] Hello?

[Foreman comes to the door Victoria stopped by earlier. He looks down at her drawing and sees the same door.]

Foreman: [to Wilson] Hey – this is it.

[They force open the door. The room is full of cobwebs.]

Wilson: Man, no one’s been in here for a long time.

[Foreman holds up the drawing for Wilson to see. The second panel shows a box on a shelf. They look up to see it before them. Cut to Foreman and Wilson leafing through pictures of a happy looking Victoria and a smiling man.]

Foreman: This has got to be James. Maybe there’s another address.

[Wilson opens an envelope and reads the contents.]

Wilson: It’s not James. [hands over marriage certificate] Paul. Paul Furia.

Foreman: Mr. Fury.

Wilson: Her husband.

Foreman: Then who’s James?

Wilson: [looks up slowly, and hands Foreman some papers from the envelope] Her kid.

[Foreman looks down at a picture of a baby. There’s another one of Victoria, her husband, and their tiny blonde son. The picture cuts to the time the photo was taken. Victoria and her family stand in the sunny yellow foyer of their home.]

Victoria: Oh, I just want to eat you up. You’re so delicious.

[She kisses the baby’s hand again and again. Her husband stands next to her with his arm around them both. ]

Victoria: Aw, look at me, you’re just like your papa. Look at you. Just like your dad.

Wilson: [interrupts, bringing the shot back to the present] Foreman. Foreman. [pauses] They’re dead. [hands over newspaper clipping] That car crash two years ago – she broke her arm… and they were killed.

Foreman: She was driving.

[Fade back to Victoria, on her side in a hospital bed. Foreman sits down behind her and grasps her hand. Her eyes open slightly]

Victoria: James.

Foreman: No. It’s Paul.

Victoria: You’ve come to take me.

Foreman: No. I’ve come to forgive you. [Victoria’s breath catches and her eyes start to tear] It wasn’t your fault.

Victoria: [sobs] I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry.

Foreman: I know. It’s okay Victoria. It’s okay.

[A close up of their hands fades to a shot of Wilson sitting on a street corner. Wilson lets out a sigh. House appears.]

Wilson: Oh. [sounding perturbed] You followed me?

House: No. You were wearing rain boots today, but you were parked in the underground garage, so the only reason you’d need boots was if you were hitting the streets… I followed you.

Wilson: Didn’t we have a conversation about friendship?

House: Yeah. I had some follow up questions. I’ve met your parents, and your brother –

Wilson: I have two brothers.

House: Why wouldn’t you tell me –

Wilson: It was irrelevant.

House: Why not?

Wilson: Because he’s not in my life any more.

House: Well, that’s relevant.

Wilson: [draws breath] This was the last place I saw him, nine years ago. I don’t even know if he’s alive.

[Shot pans out to show the full street corner, rolled down grates over windows, burnt-out street lamp, and all. A homeless man wanders by.]


The End