House

Yeah, I said I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling too hot.

You're sneezing. You could do that in a movie theater.

Yeah, and I'll be in a nice soft chair when I collapse.

I'm exhausted, babe.

Oh, come on. We're gonna be late.

Episode Four never comes to the big screen.

This is the pre-Lucasized version, remember?

None of that Greedo shooting first crap.

Go without me.

What are you talking about?

You love Star Wars.

Don't you?

Ben?

Since when?

Since just before I started pretending I loved it.

I'm sorry. I was just trying to be supportive.

Fine. I'll go alone.

Baby, I'm sorry. Me, too.

I'm so woozy I can hardly think.

We'll hang out at home.

No, you should go.

Did you just feel something?

Feel? Like what?

- Is there an earthquake? - In New Jersey?

- Oh, God. - What?

I think I'm, like, hallucinating.

Call 911.

Twenty-six year old female, gas main exploded under her building,

she was pulled out of the rubble after six hours.

Two surgeries for multiple fractures and burns.

I'm thinking the broken bones

are a response to the building falling on her head.

And the fever?

She's the only collapse victim whose body temperature was...

Put her on antipyretics.

Already have. The fever is holding at 104.

Fluctuating consciousness.

Can't take the case. I don't have a team.

So hire a team.

What for? I don't have a case.

Have you even interviewed anybody?

You test-d rive a car before you buy it.

You have sex before you get married.

I can't hire a team based on a 10-minute interview.

What if I don't like having sex with them?

You've spent the last two weeks doing absolutely nothing.

Concert is over.

In what twisted universe

does mastering Eddie Van Halen's two-handed arpeggio technique

count as "absolutely nothing"?

Take the case, or you will spend the next month

helping the collapse team change bandages.

I diagnose her alone, by the end of the day, you go away for a week.

Done.

It's not gonna work.

If he solves the case, we cure the girl.

And prove he doesn't need a team.

He's not gonna solve the case. Not that fast.

- Why not? - Because he needs a team.

- And this will prove to him... - Wanna change his mind?

You need a more convincing argument than "you promised."

Fever?

Non-responsive to antibiotics, antipyretics.

Fluctuating consciousness.

Go!

You talking to me?

Yes.

Imagine that the roof of the storage closet

collapses on your favorite floor buffer,

which then starts overheating.

Why would I have a favorite floor buffer?

Okay-

Maybe the electrical works got banged up in there

from stuff falling on it?

Hmm. Interesting.

Brain damage, leading to hypothalamic dysregulation.

Nah.

If you're brought in covered in rubble, it's all about the MRls.

We'd have seen that. Come on! Gotta earn that fiver.

Or stuff leaked in the holes, messing it up.

Lacerations lead to multiple portals for infection.

Bacterial would have responded to the antibiotics.

It's too high for viral.

Parasites or fungus is possible.

Or maybe lupus?

My grandma has lupus.

Okay. Auto immune, I'll run a lupus panel. Infection fits best.

A complete history would be helpful,

which leads to the worst part of the job,

dealing with the floor buffer's family.

We talked every couple of weeks.

But Ben would know better than I.

No farms, no travel anywhere weird.

You get that, Dr. Buffer?

No travel, no farm.

The file says she was sick before the building collapsed.

Yeah, I figured it was just a cold.

Why, do you think it's related?

Her being sick and her being sick? Often is.

She was unconscious when I found her.

We'd been fighting.

I just want to...

Just tell me she's gonna be okay.

I'm not even sure if you're gonna be okay.

We're gonna make her all better.

Show off.

You ought to be nicer to people.

Where are we going?

You know how the laughter of little children is infectious?

Well, parasites and fungi are even more so.

We're gonna find out which one is making her brain bubble over.

Where, the building?

EPA's doing that job for us, they say it's clean.

Which means we're making a pilgrimage to Castle Blackberry.

Her name's Bradberry. I should've asked them for keys.

No need, I'm sure we can find a large rock somewhere.

I'm not breaking into somebody's house.

I got principles.

I got some loose change here says you don't.

I'm not doing this

for less than $50.

Where's the restaurant?

What restaurant?

The one you said you were taking me to for lunch?

Oh! Uh...

This one's homier.

Dibs on the cold pizza!

I'm sure it looked easier on YouTube.

Oops.

Yeah. You don't need a team.

You can't even get arrested without company.

You're right. Only one solution, never replace them, ever.

Do you need help?

Yeah, yeah. Patronize the poor cripple.

Ow.

- Let me get that. - I got it.

Will you just let me get it?

I'll check the bedroom.

There's some interesting mold on the windowsill here.

It's gonna take me a while.

I'll cover the bathroom.

She had a secret diary.

Is there any other kind?

What are you doing?

There's a sale on liquid Tide.

If you're broke,

I could lend you a tiny bit of the money I owe you.

No, no. I wouldn't put you in that position.

What does the diary say?

Basically a list of her sexual encounters,

boys, girls, vibrating appliances...

If it was, you'd be quoting, not summarizing.

It's just a parade of sad banalities.

"I can hardly get out of bed. Feeling blue."

Then, three months ago, turns into a parade of happy banalities.

"It's starting to turn the corner. Job's looking up."

We can stop swabbing. Her cliches are getting healthier.

Or she's less depressed. Aren't there pills that do that?

Anti-depressants don't cause fever.

Not on their own. But the ER didn't know she was on MAO inhibitors,

so they gave her Demerol, that's a nasty combo.

So, all you have to do is convince this kid

that his girlfriend had a secret doctor,

and a secret stash and a secret life.

It's been a while since a patient took a swing at you. Can I watch?

I only have to convince the mother.

Actually, I don't have to convince anyone.

This is total crap. If she was seeing a psychiatrist, I'd know.

If she was on drugs, I'd know.

Mrs. Bradberry, please sign the forms so we can start the dialysis.

But why anti-depressants? I don't understand.

Mrs. Bradberry, please sign the forms so we can start the dialysis.

Stop saying that.

Dr. Buffer, what is going on? What aren't you telling us?

He's a janitor?

More significantly, a blabbermouth.

House, shut up.

I am very sorry how Dr. House handled this. It is completely unforgivable.

Except if he's right. Dialysis will filter her blood.

There's nothing to filter.

Save her life.

She wasn't depressed.

I'm miserable around Ben.

Not me, I like Ben. February 12th.

Either she's depressed or she just thinks you're a jerk.

Neither suggests that you should be the one

directing her medical treatment.

Does the diary say my daughter's taking these drugs?

No, but medically...

Did you find drugs in their home?

She's probably hiding them in her purse.

I thought it'd be rude to go searching under a thousand tons of rubble.

This was months ago. We were in a fight.

It doesn't mean she's depressed

and it doesn't mean she doesn't love me.

Fine. Maybe the diary proves nothing.

On the other hand, half the country's on anti-depressants

and it fits her symptoms perfectly.

No ring on your daughter's finger means you make the decisions.

I'm not sure that I know her well enough anymore.