House

One. Don't tense up now.

Go with him.

Two. That's it. Stay in rhythm.

Three. What are you doing, Lane?

You're tipping in.

Four. What's your problem?

Get your ass down. Get back in the middle.

Five. You're weak.

You got all kinds of daylight under you.

Six. Damn, Lane, you should be schooling this bull.

Seven. Get up, set your hips before the kick comes down.

Nice recovery.

Now just wait till he turns back away from your hand.

Whoo!

Hey. Hey.

What the hell just happened?

I was about to ask you the same thing.

- Sync, corrected by elderman --

I'm fine.

Okay.

I assume Cuddy told you that she dumped me.

She did.

And that I'm back on Vicodin.

She told me you had taken a Vicodin.

And then I took a lot more.

And so on.

But you're fine?

Well, I'm not fine as in "fine,"

but I'm fine as in "you don't have to worry about me."

Because you cleared out your bank account,

checked into a hotel, and started back on Vicodin?

Because I'm going to be fine as in "fine" very soon.

Until that happens,

are you sure Vicodin is the...

My leg hurts.

You've been able to handle the pain.

It's gotten worse.

Not physically worse.

Worse is worse.

Pain doesn't discriminate.

Neither do the pills.

The Vicodin and the five-star pampering

that I'm gonna get over the next few days

should be enough to get me through it.

So you don't want to just avoid the issue.

You want to avoid avoiding the issue. Sorry.

Nothing is either as bad or as good

as we think it is at the time.

That's why T.O. mocks his opponents immediately

after scoring.

He doesn't wait

till his friend shows up the next day

to tell him to deal with it.

Two weeks from now,

maybe a little more, maybe a little less,

my life will be back to its usual level of crappiness.

Till then, the only real issue

is how much I'm gonna spend on hotel charges.

Good morning, sir.

I've got your deluxe breakfast for two.

Do I have to count the strawberries?

Don't worry.

You can trust me with anything.

Including your food.

After he and I have sex,

I'm gonna slit his throat

and then disembowel him in the bathtub.

Oh, no problem. I'll cancel the morning maid service.

Would you like me to have them clean up later

when they come to turn down your bed?

Why didn't I meet you six months ago?

Thank you very much.

And if there's anything else I can do

to make your stay here more enjoyable,

just ring the concierge and ask for Carnell.

Eat fast.

We're expecting company.

Okay.

This might not be such a bad idea.

What do you think he meant by "anything"?

Take some time for yourself. Relax.

I know it's a figure of speech,

but he really did seem to underline the "anything."

Maybe talk to someone?

Already scheduled.

Really?

I'm not an idiot.

I know I need help.

Okay.

That's...great.

I meant, like, a counselor.

I know.

But you meant a hooker.

Yeah.

Baby steps.

House screwed us.

Ten years of doctors

cobbling him back together.

Metal rods in every limb.

Pins stabilizing his spine.

Five screws

and a titanium plate in his skull.

Can't do MRIs.

X-rays are probably gonna be useless as well.

Every piece of metal is gonna obscure something.

And House isn't sick.

Why would you say that?

Cuddy dumped House.

He's out somewhere expecting us to indulge him

while he ignores his job and licks his wounds.

Cuddy dumped him?

Don't do that. Don't get sucked in.

He loves her. What?

You can't feel bad for him for five minutes?

I can feel bad for him while still expecting him

to act like an adult, show up for work,

and not go on a booze-,

Vicodin-, and hooker-filled bender.

Which is why for now we're gonna handle the case without him.

Oh, is that the reason?

I thought it was because you can't pass up

any chance to seize control.

I said "we." You want "pretty please" too?

Wait. I understand the booze

and the hookers, but why Vicodin?

Wow, you really don't have any friends in here, do you?

House is a Vicodin addict.

He's been clean for two years.

He's used here at work?

Yes, that is very troubling.

Almost as much as the fact

that our patient has a ruptured diaphragm,

cracked sternum, broken nose,

and partial hearing loss,

which can be explained by a bull jumping on him.

And a neurological disorder, low-grade fever,

nausea, and peripheral muscle weakness that can't.

What if the hearing loss wasn't caused by the bull?

That's just when he noticed it?

Inner-ear pathology can affect the equilibrium

and cause disorientation,

making it appear to be a neurological disorder.

So how do we confirm?

CT is just gonna show us the plate and screws

holding his skull together.

We can do calorics and an ENG.

If he has inner-ear damage,

it'll affect his balance.

Sounds good. Go ahead.

Go ahead? Really?

What if one of us disagrees?

I happen to agree with Foreman.

Go do it.

You knew he was an addict before you got involved.

Didn't end the relationship--

You knew he was an ass--

I didn't end it--

You told him you did not want him to change.

And I was wrong.

You don't know that.

You thought you were gonna die.

Do you really think that was the right time

to make this kind of decision?

No.

But I've thought about it.

A lot.

And I haven't changed my mind.

He thought you were gonna die.

Nobody knows the right way to react in that situation.

Just give him another chance.

He deserves it.

I know.

But this isn't about what he deserves.

When things go wrong,

I don't want to hope that I'm not alone.

I want to know it.

With House...

every time I needed him to step up...

he's just never gonna be that.

It's not his fault. It's who he is.

I should have known it.

This is my fault.

Well, he's back on Vicodin.

So you might want to...

keep an eye on his new patient.

ENG was normal.

Means his inner ear isn't--

Morons.

It wasn't--