A middle-aged man with slicked-back hair and a beard nervously approaches a brick ranch house; he's in a suit and tie and holding a bouquet of flowers. He double-checks the address, silently rehearses what he's going to say, and makes a final tie adjustment before ringing the doorbell. A tall blonde answers. "Jennifer Williams?" he asks. "And you are?" she replies. "Cyrus! Cyrus Harry," he says, excitedly. "You used to call me Cy if it's . . . if it's really you." She tries to shut the door on him. "I'm trying to find the Jennifer Williams I knew 23 years ago. We spent a long weekend at the Jersey Shore?" Nope, it's not her. He walks away dejected . . . right to his stretch white limousine and waiting driver. "That lasted longer than usual," the driver says. "That's it for Lansdale," Cyrus says, checking off this "Jennifer Williams" from a list. "Pack it up! Let's move on to Philly." His driver, Phil, has another idea. "Or, we could get a couple of cheese steaks and go home. There's hundreds more Jennifers on that list of yours. You could have hundreds of women, with hundreds of different names, all at once. And I could help with the overflow. Plus, your Jennifer is probably . . ."
Cyrus interrupts him. "I know, fat and married. You ever think about writing romance novels? The PIs narrowed it down to half a dozen in Philly, let's go. Seriously, you're going to complain? How many limo drivers are making six figures?"
"Cy," Phil says. "You're my little cousin, and I love you. And you've been more than generous. But I'm upset because you are wasting your time looking for some faded memory, when there is a world of pleasure out there. The kind of cash you got buys a lot of it." For a minute it looks like Cyrus is giving it some thought. Then suddenly he collapses to the ground. "My leg won't move!"
"Partial paralysis. Head CT and LP showed nothing. Spinal MRI and EMG were clean." House has brought Cyrus' case to the team. "It's a brain symptom, and yet nothing seems to be wrong with his brain." They review his file, with Chase noting Cyrus is a refrigerator mechanic with no family. But what really sticks out is the fact that he just won $42 million in the lottery.
"I think I read about this lucky bastard," Taub says. "You sure you don't mean the lucky bastard whose grandkids snorted his winnings til he drank himself to death with drain cleaner? Or the lucky bastard found naked and penniless in a strip club parking lot with his winning number tattooed on both testicles?"
Thirteen says neuro-otological pathology could have caused loss of balance, but House says the calorics were normal. Taub doesn't think that Cyrus is doomed, like other lottery winners. "With that kind of cash, he has a chance to turn a miserable life around." House isn't convinced. "Miserable stays miserable. Happy doesn't buy lottery tickets in the first place." Even Thirteen agrees. "Our level of happiness is set. It's in our DNA."
It takes Foreman to bring them back to the actual case. "The guy repairs appliances. He's probably got toxic brain damage from years of working with toxic chemicals." Taub wonders if maybe it's actually related to his new money. "He's buying something? Collecting something? Ceramics? Precious metals, which gave him atherosclerosis of his carotid arteries."
But before they can continue the differential, Cuddy walks in with some news for House: "My mother's lawyer called. She's threatening to sue the hospital over our mistreatment of her. Says it slowed her recovery."
"You know, I was just thinking," House says, "how much I want a relationship with no sex, but where I still have to deal with your mother." He tells the team to check out Cyrus' old workshop for toxins and do a new history to see if his money brought any new lifestyle changes that could explain the symptoms.
Cuddy follows House into his office as he pops some pills. "Medicinal. I'm expecting a shooting pain in my ass." Cuddy explains that the hip replacement they gave her mom makes it hard for her to move around, so Cuddy told her that she'd have to move in while she recovers. And what does that have to do with House? "You're the doctor that treated her. That illegally switched her meds after she fired you. That went behind the back of her actual doctor."
Technically, it's both of their problems, but she won't talk about it to Cuddy unless House is there. "I need you in that meeting, acting nice and respectful, while I defuse this stunt." "Yeah, well I'm not going to that meeting, so I'm guessing you're cool if I'm not nice and respectful, either," House says, walking away.
"Picked up any new hobbies?" Taub is questioning Cyrus. Vintage cars? Painting? But nope, no cars and no paints. But there are an awful lot of flowers in the room. "You're a popular guy," Taub notes. "Popular wallet," Cyrus says. "Three years ago, before I had a dime, I had my appendix out. Phil was there. No one else even called." He says he hasn't taken any drugs, either. "Look, I've read all the articles. I've seen all the documentaries. I'm not going to be a tabloid clich!. I know what I'm going to do with my money." Phil finishes for him, since he's heard it so often: "Find and build a life with the one woman I ever cared for."
But Cyrus says the point is that nothing's changed. "I live the same life. I eat the same food." Phil adds that it's the same crappy can food at that, which catches Taub's attention. "How many of your meals do you eat from a can?" Most of them. He orders by the case online. "Is that bad?"
Meanwhile, Foreman and Chase are investigating Cyrus' workshop. It's dark and full of rusty old refrigerators. "You worried about the trickle-down effect of Cuddy-versus-House-versus-Cuddy," Chase guesses. "You're reading subtext into my silence?" Foreman asks. "House thinks I'm a robot - you think I'm a wuss?" "No, no," Chase says. "I think you're repressed. It's out of your control. Tough childhood. Strained relations with your family. Can't be easy trying to succeed in a white man's world."
"First of all, white man," Foreman starts, "I've done at least as well as you have. Second, yeah, I had a tough childhood. I had some problems in med school, too. But that's in the past. I didn't think you'd take House's view that life sucks and we're stuck."
Chase clarifies: "I think YOU'RE stuck." Chase says that he turned his life around a month ago, and he's happier than ever. And no women. "I was having tons of sex, and I was bored. Hating myself. I was never going to be ready when something real came along."
Foreman's not buying it. "So you're becoming some kind of super-monk, but I can't change at all." Chase has a challenge: get through one differential without House or anyone else getting under his skin. "Since I say nothing gets to me, you won't take me at my word - how am I supposed to prove you wrong?" Foreman asks. "I guess you can't," Chase says. "I hope that doesn't eat at you." In happier news: Chase found some off-brand solvent from China with mysterious ingredients.
"Patient eats cheap canned goods by the caseload. Could be metal poisoning." Taub shares his theory as the team walks down the hall. Chase brings up the solvent and says that Cyrus might have inhaled a toxin. Thirteen says the treatment for either condition is chelation. "Alkalinize his urine, and forced diuresis for heavy metal poisoning. If that doesn't work, put him on dialysis for toxic inhalation." Um, what about chelation? "You want to put him on dialysis, risk infection, and hemodynamic swings when we can just chelate?" Foreman asks.
"Woah, settle down!" Chase teases him. "If we chelate, we're not going to know what disease he had," House says. "Which means we're not going to know if the problem was in his lousy old job or his still-lousy new life. Which, for the purposes of a metaphorical argument, is very important."
Foreman looks around. "Pointless to argue. He's the boss. He needs his puzzles solved. Why bang our heads against the wall?" The team can't believe it. House steps into the elevator, but not before saying, "When you're done with the patient, treat Foreman by banging his head against the wall."
Taub and Thirteen head to Cyrus' room, but where's the dialysis machine? "Who cares, since I ordered chelation," Thirteen tells Taub. "Flip a coin. Tell House it was one disease or the other. Worst case, he finds out and he's impressed we defied him." But why is the nurse taking the chelation machine away? "Dr. Cuddy asked me to remove all equipment," the nurse says. "She de-authorized all treatment."
"She won't let us make a move until you agree to a sit-down with The Godmother and her consigliere." Taub says that he has to concede; the patient can't even use his leg. No, House sees another option.
"You're discharging me?" Cyrus doesn't understand why Thirteen is unhooking all his sensors. "We really don't . . . have a good lie here, so . . ." Taub begins. Thirteen tells Cyrus he got caught in some politics between their boss and their boss' boss. "You'll be out of here 20 minutes, tops," she says. Not surprisingly, he's still confused. "I'm not better but you're kicking me out?" Thirteen again says it'll only be 20 minutes, because Cuddy will give in. "So you're saying she cares more about him than the doctor who's actually treating him?" Phil asks.
Suddenly Cyrus doesn't care about any of that. He's staring at a woman in the doorway. "Cyrus," the woman tentatively says. He squints to try and see if it's really her. "Jennifer?" She tells him it's good to see him. "I read about you in the paper, so I hopped the first train from Virginia." Phil says she must have read the part about where he struck it rich. She knows it looks weird. "It . . . kind of is weird," she begins. "I just wanted to see you again and say hi. So, hi," she says, laughing nervously. Cyrus smiles. "Hi. I was starting to think I'd never find my-" "Baby bear," she finishes for him.
It looks like it really is her, and she races in to hug him. But before she gets to him, he starts vomiting. "I'm so sorry," he says. "I don't even feel nauseous." But he's shaking, too. "You're having a focal seizure," Thirteen says, as she shines a pen light in his eyes. He won't be getting discharged.
"We were right that it's a brain issue but wrong about toxic inhalation and metal poisoning," Taub tells House, back in his office. But House is more interested in his celebrity gossip magazine. "House, we've got a patient with a seizure disorder who can't walk." "Another one? I thought we kicked out the last one." Cuddy arrives to tell him that of course he can treat Cyrus now - if she meets him halfway.
"No clinic hours for the next quarter," she bargains. He counters with "three parking spots, next to each other so I can park diagonally. And three pairs of your underwear. I'm thinking of taking up sailing." Cuddy's had enough. "Forget it. Treat your patient, don't treat your patient. Come to the meeting, don't come to the meeting. I'm done playing your game."
"Neurologic Lyme disease explains the seizures and the paralysis," Foreman explains, calmly, as Chase attaches a blood pressure monitor to his arm. Foreman tells them that Chase "claims he can swear off sex indefinitely. He also claims that I am a boiling cauldron of repressed rage." House leans in. "Your theory is idiotic," he says, watching Foreman's monitor screen. "The patient's antibody titers were negative for Lyme disease." A tiny spike. "And I shared a motel room with your ex-girlfriend." Nothing. "He's a rock. How's your brother? Homeless guy. Haven't heard from him in months." No reaction.
"Postural hypotension," Taub suggests. "Which could have reduced blood supply to his brain." House says it doesn't really matter; his life's going to unravel anyway. "His life may unravel, may not. He's not chasing after material things," Taub says. "Too bad, he might actually get those," House tells him. "He's looking for love, just tracked down an old girlfriend," Taub says. "And she'll never live up to the memory," Thirteen says. "And the thrill of finding her will wear off. And he won't even be able to dream about being happy."
She thinks that they should test him for herpes encephalitis. House orders an EEG to confirm and IV acyclovir to treat. Oh, and how's Foreman's blood pressure? "Same," Chase says. "That's strange," House says. "Since I unplugged the lead 30 seconds ago." Foreman rips off the cuff. "Admirable effort. And I'm not just saying that because I'm scared you'll turn green and rip through your clothes."
Foreman storms out, followed by Chase and Taub, but House holds Thirteen back. "Down on the patient's romance because your own lifespan is shorter than dinner and a movie?" "I love being back," she says. "Having every theory you and I share used as proof of my own personal damage."
Thirteen finds Cyrus and Jennifer in the EEG room. She tells Jennifer that she'll need to step out when the test starts. "That's OK, I have to catch an early train in the morning," Jennifer says. "No, don't!" Cyrus says. "I'll put you up in a nice hotel, or rent you a furnished place." She says she came back to see how he was, or maybe get back in his life a bit, but she doesn't want to take his money. "What's wrong with a nice place to stay?" he asks. "Unless, of course, you don't want to stay." She says she guesses she can keep her hotel room another night or two. Cyrus looks thrilled. Thirteen just fakes a smile.
"Need a consult." House is in Wilson's office. "Did an EEG on my patient. Turns out the reason the prior doctors thought it wasn't a neuro problem is because it's not a neuro problem." They found a mass on his pancreas. House hands Wilson the scan. "Mass looks solid. I'd say it's cancer," Wilson says. "Paraneoplastic syndrome would explain the neurological symptoms. You need to get a piece of it. Schedule a CT guided biopsy."
But House already knows that. "Why haven't you been yelling at me about the Cuddy twins?" Wilson says House is doing the right thing. "Are we talking about the same issue? Is there something I don't know about that I'm responding to appropriately?" But Wilson says that this is all about Cuddy and Arlene. They want House in the middle so that they don't have to face their own problems.
"Somehow in your knee-jerk, juvenile way, you tripped and fell into an actual adult response to this," Wilson tells him. House thinks. "You're right. That was Cuddy's strategy all along. She wanted me to think that she desperately needed me to be there, so that I wouldn't be there." Wilson just sighs.
"Where is Dr. House?" Arlene's attorney precedes her as the two of them walk into Cuddy's office. Cuddy says she doesn't want House there. "This isn't about her treatment at Princeton-Plainsboro," Cuddy tells the attorney. "It's about the fight we had last week. I'd like a moment with my mother to try and work this out on our own." When the attorney leaves, Cuddy begins: "I know you're mad at me, but you can barely make it up those stairs. How many nights did you sleep on the couch?"
Arlene says that this has nothing to do with their fight, but Cuddy doesn't believe her. "What do you want?" Cuddy asks.
"Twenty grand," Arlene tells her. "I'll hire help and forget this nightmare you've put me through. Make it thirty. I'll put in a stair lift." "If my Board hears about these threats, let alone a settlement, they'll investigate what happened while you were here as a patient. House and I could both lose our licenses. I've been assuming this is personal, because I don't want to assume that that's what my mother wants," Cuddy says.
Just as Arlene seems to be mulling this over . . . House walks in with a medical tray. "No hospital likes unsatisfied customers. Problem is, we only give store credit. So I say we put your old, cracked, poisonous hip back in, here and now. I saved your life. Happy to unsave it."
Cuddy leans toward Arlene: "He's being an ass. If I could join you in suing him . . ." "She was like this in bed, too," House says, as he puts on surgical scrubs. "Always scheming to get the lawyers out of the room." That's about enough for Arlene, who slowly gets up and turns to the door. "If House isn't going to take this seriously, I know a few judges who will."
"I had to rig the monitor. I had a lot of salt for breakfast." Foreman is trying to explain away his earlier deception to Taub as they perform the guided biopsy. Taub just laughs. "You think I'm repressed, too?" Foreman asks. "I think you're in danger of being dissolved by your own stomach acids," Taub tells him. But he believes that Chase is now celibate? "Don't know, but I'm rooting for him. Read the studies. The fewer partners you have, the happier you are with your ultimate partner." Foreman says he's going to be miserable then. "Those studies - it's important that they have a control group," Taub says.
They've found the tumor on Cyrus' pancreas. And one on his kidney. And one on his colon. Taub takes a closer look. "One looks avascular, one looks vascular, a third looks calcified." Three completely different cancers at the same time? "Not so lucky after all," Taub says.
"You had to go all Wile E. Coyote," Wilson says. "You told me that Arlene wanted me in the middle of it," House tells him. "I had to show her that no good could come of that." Wilson doesn't think that's it at all. "You didn't like that Cuddy tricked you, even though you wanted the same thing as her. You didn't like that she got the best of you. You've got more anger toward her than you realize."
House maintains that he's happier without her. "I'm not stupidly expecting her to make me happy. I'm happier with my unhappiness," he says, downing more pills. "Do you listen to what you're saying? Because I have to. I'm holding a summit meeting to force you and Cuddy onto the same page before a lawsuit gets filed," Wilson warns him.
"Three completely unrelated cancers at once." Taub briefs House on their findings. "Multicancer syndrome - Von-Hippel Lindau?" Thirteen guesses. Wouldn't have touched his colon. Meanwhile, Chase has set up Foreman again with the blood pressure machine. He holds up his left hand to vow: "I hereby certify that Dr. Foreman has not tampered with this blood pressure mechanism in any way." "And after I prove to you that I'm 100 percent stress-free, do I get to strap you into a chastity belt?" Foreman asks. "He can borrow yours," Taub says. Foreman's going to have a tough time beating the machine.
Thirteen wonders if Cyrus is missing a tumor suppressor gene. Foreman takes a deep breath to steady himself and says that the only answer is to blast him with chemo. House says if they do that, it'll contain the cancers. "If we want to know what they have in common, we've got to see where they spread next." He wants to wait for the cancer to spread, while his seizures and paralysis get worse? "Well, now that's crazy talk. But if we pump the patient full of vascular endothelial growth factor . . ."
Foreman's blood pressure spikes. He asks House, as calmly as he can, "You want to grow more, and bigger, cancers?" House says that if they can't figure out what three small ones have in common, maybe they can figure out what eight big ones do. "Is this idea even real? Or are you threatening to kill the patient just to screw with me?" Foreman asks. Meanwhile his BP is racing. He rips off the cuff.
"This whole thing is idiotic! What does it matter what's inside of me if I know how to control it?!" "Makes no difference to us," Thirteen says. "But you may want to make out a will." House tells them to get Cyrus' consent to "turn his cancers up to 11." Before Thirteen leaves, House shows her a picture of a former boyfriend from high school. But it's not a yearbook picture - House has actually brought the guy here. "Your high school boyfriend who dumped you, leaving you unable to believe that anyone can rekindle an old flame." Um, no. She dumped him, after she hooked up with his sister. "You mind letting him down gently?" House asks. "I might have made promises you can't keep."
"We're giving you more cancer. The risks of that are kind of obvious." Taub and Thirteen are explaining to Cyrus, Phil, and Jennifer what they want to do. They'll be scanning and checking in at regular intervals. They think it's the best chance at finding the underlying genetic flaw. Taub hands Cyrus the consent form. But before he signs, he looks at Jennifer: "Will you marry me? If this cancer overwhelms me, at least I'll die happy here and now. Instead of hoping for a future I may never have. I love you." "No, you don't," she says. "You don't know. You can't know. We both need more time. And I believe we're going to have it."
"Did you notice she's wearing different clothes today?" Thirteen asks Taub when they leave Cyrus' room. She's clearly still not convinced about the love between Cyrus and Jennifer. "She said she came for one night. Why'd she pack for more?" Taub doesn't see the significance. "So she stuffed an extra outfit in her bag, or she bought something." Thirteen thinks she's only there for Cyrus' money. "She turned down a proposal. How long a game do you think she's playing?" Taub asks. "I think if she said yes after fourteen hours, even he'd be suspicious," she tells him.
House returns to his office late at night and finds Foreman on the floor, with his legs over his head in an uncomfortable looking yoga pose. "I need a hooker," he tells House. "Not if you can make that work," House says. "How is that supposed to relax you?" Foreman asks, as he sits up. "It's not for me - it's for Chase." "I'm saving myself, too," House says. "Maybe you should get a couple." "You're riding me - why not ride him?" Foreman asks. "Because I can get a rise out of your BP. His pee pee on the other hand . . . Forget yoga. Embrace zen. You're a repressed idiot. He's a horny idiot. Neither one of you can do anything about it. Pretty sure that's zen."
House is watching his soap in a patient's room (a patient he's moved from the bed to the floor), when Wilson and Cuddy arrive. "However much it hurt, I did have a right to break up with you," Cuddy tells him. "You need to get over it instead of torpedoing our jobs out of spite." Wilson says that they're both at fault: Cuddy for trying to manipulate House, and House for "being you, which is an especially bad idea under the circumstances."
They both protest, but Wilson has had enough. "OK, here's what's going to happen. Tomorrow, I drive both of you to Arlene's. You're going to write her a personal check for $30,000 and tell her she can stay in her own home with your blessing. You're going to do this because you actually give a crap about your job and this hospital and your mother and possibly even House."
He turns to House. "And you're going to say, 'I'm sorry,' and not utter one syllable more." And if he doesn't? "I'm going to tell the pharmacy to stop issuing Vicodin prescriptions in my name."
Thirteen is checking on Cyrus. "Anything look different?" he asks. Not yet. "Where's Jennifer?" Thirteen asks. "She's embezzling money from my Swiss bank account," Cyrus says, laughing. "That's what you think, isn't it? I'm being taken for a ride." Thirteen says that Jennifer wouldn't be there if he was still fixing refrigerators. "One random set of numbers doesn't change human nature." "Those sets of numbers are what kept me going," Cyrus says. "Clutching those tickets, thinking about the life I could have. Finding Jennifer again." So if one long-shot dream comes through, then another one will, too? "You think you're protecting me," Cyrus says. "I think you're sad. Can't stand to see somebody happy."
"Mom, here's a check. It's a settlement, for all you've been through." As promised, Wilson produced House and Cuddy on Arlene's doorstep. "Of course you can stay in your home. It was wrong of me to suggest otherwise." Cuddy steps aside so House can make his apology. "I'm sorry," he says. ". . . that we saved your life," he looks at Wilson and Cuddy, ". . . in the way that we did." Wilson gives him a B+ and tells Arlene he hopes that this has resolved everything.
"This is 30 grand," she says. "This covers pain and suffering. What about the probate lawyer? I have to change my will. Leave everything to Julia so this one doesn't try more funny business to get control of my home." Wilson scrambles and says that they can surely come up with another $2,500. Cuddy tells Arlene that she has no interest in her house. "You already think you own my body. Why not my home?" Arlene says. "You have to lash out at everyone who tries to help you!" Cuddy says.
Wilson is trying to keep the peace, but it's not working. "Live in your own kitchen sink for all I care!" Cuddy says. "Harsh," House tells Arlene. "You know, I didn't think you had a case before, but that is no way to talk to a patient." Arlene tells him he's right - and she rips up the check.
"Chase has had his eyes on this one for months." Foreman and Taub are watching Chase talk to a pretty nurse. Foreman has a plan to trap Chase. He tells Taub that he bribed a beautiful nurse to slap Chase when he makes his eventual move. "So your plan is to prove you're both full of crap all in one move?" Taub asks. They watch as Chase and the nurse talk, and it seems like Chase is moving in. But she suddenly walks away from Chase, and out toward Foreman. She slaps Foreman and gives him back the money. Chase just waves to them from the other room. "Don't let it get to you," Taub says.
"Poured a lot of gas on the fire. Ultrasound will give us a good look at the damage." Taub is in Cyrus' room. "I never made a will," Cyrus says to Jennifer. "I want to provide for you if-" But she stops him. "Your money, there's charities, causes. Your family. You got to ask yourself: what's mattered to you most, year in and year out." Taub's found something strange on the ultrasound. It's not bad news, though. "We've been pumping you with growth factor, but you don't have any new cancers. The tumors you had all shrank."
"Three tumors disappearing means we were probably wrong about him missing a tumor suppressor gene." Foreman is calmly explaining his theory as Chase hooks him up yet again to a blood pressure monitor. "If it's autoimmune, and he created antibodies that ended up fighting his own tumors . . ." "The growth factor would have made the underlying autoimmune better," House finishes. Taub thinks maybe it was never cancer in the first place. "Of course it was cancer," Foreman says. "We biopsied." He checks his BP. "It could have been a false positive," he concedes.
"Amyloidosis?" Thirteen asks. "His EKG voltage has been on the low end of normal. What if the tumors are actually protein deposits?" House orders a GI biopsy to confirm, and chemo to treat. Foreman, calmly, points out that she's making the diagnosis based off a low normal EKG, and low normal is still normal. But no matter what he does, the BP machine still spikes. "Low normal is still low, and that thing does not have money on you being wrong like the rest of us do."
Foreman accuses Chase of rigging the machine. "Oh, I think you're confusing Chase and Foreman," Thirteen says. "I used to do that all the time." "I know it's rigged!" Foreman says, ripping off his cuff. "Because you're Mr. Cool," Taub says, "nothing could possibly phase-" "Because I took a beta-blocker!" Foreman yells.
Turns out he's right: Chase shows him a remote he's been using to make the machine readings spike. "His platelet count's still low. Chemo's still a death sentence. Treating for amyloidosis with a normal EKG is like doing heart surgery on a guy because he's ten pounds overweight. It's insane."
"We'll do it your way," House says. "Go shout at the patient til he gets better. GI biopsy to confirm, chemo to treat," he repeats. But again he holds Thirteen back. "Here's the dirty little secret," she says. "I just think we are who we are. And I think lotteries are stupid."
"Janet Hemorrhoid!" House is in the clinic, calling for his next patient. A woman shyly approaches. "That's not my name. It's why I'm here." "Oh, I see! It goes across. We'd better make this fast, because I'm about to lose my medical license for malpractice and ethical lapses. Nothing unusual. Head of the hospital's about to lose hers too."
That sends Janet on her way. Wilson walks up. "I heard Cuddy quadrupled your clinic hours." Arlene wants another meeting, but House says no chance. Wilson has a new theory: "You don't want to let go of Cuddy, so you're clinging to the negative interaction because some small part of you thinks the bad stuff beats nothing at all." House denies it. "You love her, House. And it's human to hang on, but you're blowing up not just your job, but any chance of any kind of relationship with her again."
Phil and Jennifer come to visit Cyrus. Cyrus hands Phil an envelope. "What's that?" Phil asks. "It's a check," Cyrus says. "For ten million dollars." "I don't know what to say," Phil says. "You've already been so generous." "By hiring you? For a whopping six figures, my own blood?" Cyrus starts to cry. "Best friend I ever had? Year in, year out. I got lucky. Means we both got lucky." Now Jennifer is crying.
Thirteen hands her a tissue and notices something strange. "You're wearing contacts under your glasses?" Jennifer laughs. "Must have forgotten to take them off." "They're tinted - do you change your eye color?" Thirteen asks. She says sometimes she likes to mix things up. But now Cyrus is confused. "You don't have brown eyes?" he asks. She just looks at him. He's concerned now. "Where'd the name 'Baby bear' come from?" he quizzes her. She says it's so long ago she doesn't even remember. "It's a birthmark! On your left breast. In the shape of a bear. You forgot that?"
He turns to Phil. "It's the one thing I never told you, that's why she doesn't know!" Phil shakes his head. "It's not like that, I swear." "Get out! Get out, both of you!" Cyrus screams. "You were right," he says to Thirteen. "I'm just another lottery fool. My life sucks. It'll always suck." He starts to crash.
"Patient had a cardiac arrest and his lungs and liver failed before we even started the chemo." Thirteen is filling in House and the others on Cyrus. "Brain symptoms that aren't brain symptoms, tumors that come and go," Chase ponders. At least they know it's not amyloidosis. "His long-lost love is a fraud," Taub notes. "Thirteen figured that out. Decades of menial work, three cancers couldn't make him die miserable. She just did." But Thirteen says the truth made him miserable. Suddenly the hospital alarm sirens and lights go off in the corridor.
"Keep the clinic shut down. Wherever it is it's isolated to the administrative floor." Cuddy is outside with other administrative staff, past the fire trucks. Then she sees Arlene and stops. Arlene looks a little guilty. "Only way to get the two of you together at the same time," she says, looking over at House sitting on a bench. Cuddy sighs. "Re-open everything. Re-admit everything," she tells her assistant. "I want you both to know I'm filing the suit today. Delivering the paperwork to your counselors' office."
"You have to be destructive!" Cuddy says. "You have to tear things apart. God forbid you should say what's on that twisted mind of yours." "And you're the great peacemaker," Arlene shoots back. "Single mom, can't keep a man long enough to cook a meal. Not that you'd even know how . . ."
"You would be dead if it weren't for our mistreatment," Cuddy says. "And somehow you'd still come up with something to whine about, although it wouldn't be what you would say you were whining about." Arlene tells her that she'll let a judge decide who's whining.
"We're not getting back together," House tells Arlene. What is he talking about? "It's the only explanation," he says. "Why she keeps making threats without ever filing her stupid yet completely valid lawsuit. Why she ripped up her will. Why she kicked half the hospital out on the street. She wants us united, against her."
Cuddy thinks it's just the latest example of Arlene drawing blood over an imaginary slight. "She doesn't care if anyone else is happy or -" But she looks over at Arlene, and she can see it's true. "Look at you idiots," Arlene says. "Who else is going to put up with either of you?" Cuddy realizes that when she asked Arlene to move in, it meant that she and House weren't going to reconcile.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Cuddy says, as she hugs her. "Some things take more than a common enemy." "And you're an idiot with impossible standards," Arlene says. Cuddy looks around, but House is gone.
"A common enemy." House is in Cyrus' room. "One way to trigger brain symptoms when there's nothing wrong with your brain is to have something else turn your brain into a common enemy. You have a teratoma. A usually harmless, congenital growth, which can be filled with almost any kind of tissue. And unusually, and not at all harmless, if I'm right yours is filled with primitive cells, some of which developed into brain cells. These foreign cells leaked into your blood stream. Now, the body is a little xenophobic. It creates antibodies. The problem is there's not much difference between brain cells in your abdomen and brain cells in your brain. To make matters worse, primitive cells can become almost anything. They grow like weeds. Which means they can turn into tumors, and destroy whole organ systems." But what about the cancer? It was actually cancer. It was just growing so fast that it collapsed under its own weight.
"Am I going to live?" Cyrus asks House. "Cut out the teratoma, what's left of your cancer, you should be fine. Think of it as your second-luckiest day." Cyrus tells him it's hard to feel lucky. "The woman I loved was a fraud." "No, actually, a fraud was a fraud," House corrects him. "You fell for her just the same. You may stay miserable, but your long-lost love is not going to be the reason why."
Later, a woman comes to see Cyrus. She looks like the "Jennifer" from before, but slowly Cyrus realizes who it is. Thirteen and House watch their reunion from the nurses' station.
"It's the real Jennifer," Thirteen says. "Or at least the only one to show up who actually has the birthmark. He's renting her an apartment." House says that it'll end horribly. "Not for him," she says. "She may take all his money. He may be a naÃ¯ve idiot, but he'll always be hopeful, so he'll always be happy."
"You lost your mother," House says. "You euthanized your brother. You've got the life expectancy of a pretty good sitcom. If you can convince yourself that you'd be miserable no matter what, even without all that stuff, then maybe you don't have to hate the universe for dumping a giant turd on you. Fatalism is your survival mechanism."
"And you?" she asks. "Dumped by everyone you've ever loved. Rehab was a bust. Your leg feels like somebody took a giant bite out of it. We are who we are. Lotteries are stupid."