"If you don't know how to use a computer, we will teach you here. Most jobs require at least basic word processing skills." A perky aide is showing Benjamin Byrd, a serious-looking man in a t-shirt and a weathered jacket, around the busy Phoenix community outreach center. "We also have a course in how to talk to someone in an interview: what employers are looking for, how to turn negatives into positives. We can also provide clothes for the interview if you need them. People donate shoes and suits all the time."
Benjamin looks down and quietly asks her, "What if I had a history with drugs?" She tells him it's nothing to be ashamed of. "Many of our clients have struggled with addiction." "And what if I have a kid?" he asks. "If I need someone to watch her while I'm in class or on an interview? Could you help with that?"
The aide worker sighs. "We do not provide child care. Actually, it's something that comes up often. I would love to be able to do it; I just don't have the resources. But it's definitely on the wish list," she tells him. Benjamin smiles. "OK, thank you. I'll be back."
As he turns and walks away, she notices a white envelope on the floor: "For Phoenix." Inside is a cashier's check from the Benjamin Byrd Foundation made out to the Phoenix Foundation, for one million dollars. She quickly races after him, but he's already crossed the street. "Benjamin!" Suddenly, he collapses to the ground. "Somebody call an ambulance!"
House is surveying his post-prison scruffy beard and hair in the hospital bathroom mirror as he plugs in an electric shaver. He takes a bit off the beard . . . then shaves his head nearly to a buzz cut, as Dr. Park watches.
"Why am I watching you cut your hair?" she asks. "If I do it at home, I'm the one who has to clean it up," he says, after he's shorn a head full of hair all over the sink. "I was referring less to where it's happening and more to why," she clarifies. "New life, new look," House says.
"Doesn't seem like much of a case," Park says of the file she's holding as she and House walk down the hall. He looks annoyed. "Although I'm sure I'm wrong?" He tells her she is, and wants her to tell him why.
"Guy collapsed after being on his feet for hours, on a hot day, without breakfast. So ... that's really weird," Park says, struggling to come up with the interesting part to Benjamin's case. "E.R. found nothing wrong," House says," but then I decided I should test his wallet."
Wait, they're taking the case because he's rich? "No, we're taking the case because no one knows what's wrong with him," he explains. "And he's rich."
When they get to House's office, Dr. Jessica Adams, who met the incarcerated House while she was working in the prison, is waiting. "Give her the file," House says to Park, who is confused about why she has to give away her only copy of the case file. "My M.O. depends upon the use of a team. By definition, that involves more than one person." Park points out that House can't afford a team. "Adams is free. And I'm referring both to her availability and her price tag. New girl, meet newer girl, and vice versa."
Now Adams is confused. "You said we were meeting for coffee," she says. Adams is in the process of looking for a paying job. "In the meantime," House says, "there's no way a do-gooder like you isn't volunteering all over town, ladling kittens, spaying soup." House encourages her to think of this as another free clinic, "only with fewer bums with herpes."
But Park still thinks Benjamin's "case" is nothing more than dehydration. House looks at Adams. "What happened the last time another doctor told you I was wrong about a case?" "I lost my job," she says. There was one more thing, House reminds her: "You saved a life."
Park and Adams are performing an ultrasound on Benjamin, who says that he's feeling much better now. "A sudden collapse at your age can indicate a deterioration in the heart muscle," Adams tells him, though again Park says it could still be dehydration. And she says next time he could drop the undercover act.
Benjamin laughs. "I walk in in a suit, they're going to put their best foot forward. Also, I don't own a suit." He gave those away, too. "One day I was writing a check to my landscaper, and it suddenly hit me: $6,000 to take out plants and put in different plants," he explains. "So I can look at them. Why shouldn't I use that money to do something important?"
"And by money, you mean all your money?" Adams asks. "Well, I started with $10 million, but I couldn't think of a reason not to give $20 or $40," he says. "I figure I can live on $25,000 a year. One-room apartment, bus pass, thrift stores. Bare necessities. I still have my software company. And when I make more, I'll give that away, too."
"He's nuts!" Park tells House, back in his office. "He's generous," Adams counters. Park is sure it's a neurological issue. Adams says his echocardiogram was negative for cardiomyopathy and his CT showed no signs of stroke or hemorrhage. "He has one pair of pants!" Park says. "Benjamin is sacrificing his own comfort to help others," Adams tells her.
Park is adamant, though. "You really want to improve things? You do it through policy," she says. "This guy empties his pockets. What really changes? My parents had $800 dollars between them when they got here. They scraped and borrowed so that we could go to good schools, and I worked my ass off. No one gave me a handout. It makes me work harder."
But they can't continue the argument because Foreman walks in. "What's your evil plan?" he asks House. "My theory is that you're running a battery of tests to convince him that you saved his life, then con him into funding you to hire back your team. This is your new reality. You've got your office, you've got neighbors, you've got one employee and one volunteer until she finds actual paid work or gets sick of you."
House says that he's talked to Chase and Taub: "They're willing to come back." And Thirteen? "Not a good choice," he says. "She's not long-term because she has no long-term." "Not taking your calls?" Foreman asks. House sits back. "She will."
Foreman wants him to discharge Benjamin. "Unexplained loss of consciousness could be cardiomyopathy, global anoxia, a subarachnoid hemorrhage . . ." But Foreman thinks it's simple dehydration. "He was given fluids and he got better, and I'm sure your tests have come up negative or you'd have shut me up already. Which means he goes home."
He turns to leave, but Park tells him there actually is a symptom: extreme altruism. Foreman smiles. "You've got two choices, House: you can recognize that your patient is just a very nice, healthy guy and send him home or you can consider altruism a symptom. In which case, you cannot take his money." Foreman leaves. "Send him home," House tells the doctors. "And check with admitting for the net worth of all new patients."
"I'm not coming back, House." Almost out the hospital door, House hears Thirteen calling him from a bench in the lobby. "Technically, you're back right now." But she's just there to tell him to quit calling. "I'm not a doctor anymore, House."
"The job went away, but not the profession," he says, looking her over. "You look healthy, so that's not it. You met a boy. Or a girl. Fell in love, want to be happy. You decided to enjoy the time you have left. You're going to Thailand."
"Girl, and Mykonos," she says. House pretends to yawn. "Turns out I like boring." "No, you want to like boring," he tells her. "But if you actually liked boring, you would have figured that out in fifth grade when you were bored."
"Please stop calling me," Thirteen says, and turns to leave. "No," he tells her. "You showed up to tell me that you don't want to hear from me. That's a mixed signal. I'm going to choose to listen to your actions, rather than your words, because they're more honest."
"I'm a little confused. You're running a test and discharging me?" Benjamin says to Park and Adams. "Was I dehydrated or not?" "I think so," Adams says. "But out of an abundance of caution, my colleague has taken it upon herself to do one more test."
Then she tells Benjamin that he scares her a little. "I've been considering applying to Doctors Without Borders, going overseas for a while, and that seems like a huge sacrifice. But you . . ." Park interrupts her. "You don't scare her. You make her feel guilty." Suddenly he grabs his chest. "You're tachycardic. Your heart's beating too fast," Park says.
"There's definitely something wrong with him," Park tells House the next day, while he stares at the outer office that used to house his team, now occupied by orthopedics. "Which is awesome," House says. "Now there's something to cure, which means there's something for him to be disproportionately financially grateful for."
Meanwhile, Adams enters brightly, offering coffee to Park, who's confused when Adams won't take money for it. House thinks maybe arrhythmia caused Benjamin's collapse, but Adams tells him they didn't see any structural abnormalities while looking at his heart the day before. Maybe occult long QT syndrome? Park suggests Whipple's. "If it was Whipple's, there'd be some neurological involvement," House says. "You don't think defying human nature is neurological?" she asks.
"Racing heart: medical condition; bleeding heart: stupid condition," House says. Park thinks maybe House doesn't really believe that, but that it's in his financial best interest. "I'm told that some people are just nice," he says. "I'm trying to embrace that wisdom."
Adams notes that Benjamin has been taking allergy medication, and long QT can be medication-induced. "Flush him with saline. Get rid of the antihistamine and do an EKG," House orders, then changes his mind: "No, wait. I'll do the flushing." And he tells Adams to take Park's money, since she hasn't even sipped from the cup yet.
"I just got so angry, you know? So, I made a terrible mistake. I'm trying to start my life over." House is laying it on thick for Benjamin, while preparing the saline bag. "To help people, the way I always wanted. But my department got de-funded," House sighs, sadly, "and it's my fault. I just can't stand to think of all those patients going untreated because I don't have the resources to do my best work."
It looks like it may have worked. "How about I help you out?" Benjamin asks. House feigns confusion. "How do you mean?" Benjamin offers to give a million dollar endowment to the hospital, earmarked for Diagnostics. House stares at him. "Wow. I am an opportunistic ex-con who just gave you a two-minute sob story, as step 3 in my master plan, and you offered me a million dollars. Which is step 17." Benjamin smiles. "Is that bad?" "Ethics are not my strong suit," House tells him.
"Hypothetical: if I'm offered oral sex from a sexaholic, do I have to decline?" House enlists Wilson's help to determine whether he should take Benjamin's money. "Don't answer yet. Saying no would cause both of us pain. Saying yes would cause both of us pleasure." Wilson sums up: "You can't take sex from a sexaholic. You can't give booze to an alcoholic. And you can't take this guy's money."
But maybe House is wrong about charity being a symptom? "Taking money from a sick person is ethically suspect at best," Wilson advises. "What is this, Canada?" House asks. "All we do is take money from sick people." Wilson says the difference is they work for it, and it doesn't sound like House is working all that hard. Before they can continue, Wilson is paged. "I've got a patient with end-stage kidney disease. Her heart can't support dialysis. She needs a transplant, but . . ." It's clear that House isn't listening anymore.
"It's all moot," House says. "Patient probably has long QT. Probably just a really, really decent person. They exist, right?"
"Is long QT bad?" Benjamin asks Park, as she performs the EKG. It can be tough to control, she tells him. "Is there someone you'd like me to call?" There is someone. "She's the same person who won't take my calls. My wife. When I started giving away money, I hoped she'd want to do it with me. She didn't. I miss them. We have two little boys." Park frowns. "Having a family doesn't exempt me from social responsibility," he says.
"But family comes first," she says. "Why should it?" he asks. "I know that sounds weird. But if someone is related to you, does that empirically make them more special, more deserving than anyone else?" She says that it gives you a responsibility.
"My boys have a roof over their heads; they're not starving," Benjamin says. "I pay court-ordered child support, and, frankly, it's more than they need. I love them more than anything. I just can't justify buying video games and private schools when other people's children are starving. I hope one day they'll understand that."
Suddenly, his hands start to tremble and he starts to shake. "What's happening?" he asks. "I'm not sure, but it's not what we thought it was," Park says.
"So, arrhythmia, fainting, muscle tremors." House is trying a differential diagnosis in the cafeteria with Adams. "Plus, unfortunately, mental changes." Park sits down and practically shoves a cup of coffee at Adams, who still doesn't think Benjamin has a neurological condition.
"He lost his wife and kids because he couldn't stop giving money away," Park says. "He lost his wife because she couldn't handle not being filthy rich," Adams counters. House notes that Adams isn't drinking the coffee Park gave her. "Drink it, don't drink. The point is: I gave it to you, so we're even." Adams can't believe it. "'Even'? It was a gift. An insignificant token. There was nothing owed. That was the whole point."
Park doesn't understand why she would do that. House is curious, too. But Adams isn't buying it. "She's the crazy one," she says of Park. "So, a guy gives everything away to strangers: sane. Girl who doesn't want anything from strangers: crazy," Park says. "You're not a stranger," Adams says. "And your perverse view of the world is making you force a neurological component onto an obviously cardiological . . ."
House interrupts with his interpretation of Adams' generosity: "Your parents didn't love you enough, so you have to prove your superiority. Or they loved you too much, and you need to prove your humility. Or it's just rich guilt. I'm betting on the last one."
Adams would prefer to get back to the case, and points out a list of drugs that could have caused Benjamin's symptoms. "I doubt the guy would spend money on drugs when there are orphans out there without cable," House says. Plus, he'd be getting better now, not worse. Park suggests polyarteritis nodosa, except there's no rash. Echovirus? It fits his symptoms and could cause personality changes. House orders antivirals for Benjamin. "And Adams, when you treat, and he gets better and doesn't give Bob Cratchit the day off, you owe me a coffee."
"Click the third tab from the left and find the box that says Previous Entries. You get a drop-down menu, sorted by patient name and department." It's late at night, and Thirteen is helping House, via phone, navigate the hospital's computer system, while she lounges on a couch in her apartment with her girlfriend. "I thought about what you said, and I realized you were right," she says. But that doesn't mean she'll be showing up for work, either. "I'm not sure what you were trying to achieve. I'm never quite sure. But you were actually a friend to me when I needed it. I don't want to come back to work for you, but I was wrong to try to push you out of my life."
House is more concerned that suddenly his screen turned blue. Thirteen sighs. "Stay there. I'm coming." House tells her not to worry . . . though if she did swing by, maybe she could pick up some Chinese food. "That's six miles out of my way!" she says. "Oh, OK then. I guess I'll get something from the hospital cafeteria, which is where I get all my meals, since I can't go anywhere," House says. Thirteen sighs again. "Fine. I'll get the food."
"Can you do me a favor?" Adams finds Park in the doctors' locker room and hands her a shoe box. "You want me to return these? Give them to someone? Wear them while you masturbate?" Park asks. Adams laughs. "I want you to have them." Park says that isn't really a favor. "It was a 2-for-1 sale. I couldn't resist. I need to justify buying them," Adams tells her. "They're $120 dollars," Park says. "My car's in the shop, I'm short on cash this month. I can't pay you back." She tries to hand them back, but Adams says that the first pair were $120 - these are free. "You do know I punched the last person that pissed me off?" Park says. Adams looks a little bewildered. "Was it Santa?"
"What's your patient status?" Suddenly Wilson is interested in Benjamin. He's better, and they're discharging him. "Good," Wilson says. But why does Wilson care? "Your guy just signed up to donate a kidney to a patient with renal failure." Benjamin heard the nurses talking about Wilson's patient. House thinks that means he was wrong, and that Benjamin's mental health is declining. "Don't say that. House, she really needs this kidney." Maybe he's just doing an amazing thing for another human being. "I thought it was an ethical no-brainer that we can't take stuff from sick people," House reminds him. "I changed my mind," Wilson says.
"He's still sick," House claims. "The symptoms have gone away," Wilson argues. They're both making their cases to Foreman while walking to Benjamin's room. House maintains offering an organ to a stranger is a symptom. People do that every year, Wilson says. "How many of them are also in the business of pauperizing themselves?" House asks. "If the guy threw himself on a grenade, he'd be a hero. If it saves a life, who cares?" Wilson says.
House reminds him that he cared yesterday, when he was making the exact opposite argument. "If there's even a chance I'm right, it'd be dangerous to give his kidney to someone else." But would it be more dangerous than complete renal failure?
"Why do you want to give away your kidney?" Foreman asks Benjamin. "There's 70,000 people on the active waiting list for a kidney, and less than 10,000 dead people a year to give them one," he answers. And he assures House he'll get his money. Foreman tells Benjamin that being a live donor has risks.
"I looked it up," Benjamin says. "The risk is 1 in 4,000 that I could die during surgery. Which means if I don't donate, I'm valuing my life at 4,000 times someone else's." He's got two kidneys and this woman will die without one.
"Perfectly logical," Wilson says. And Foreman says if the kidney donation is House's only evidence that Benjamin is sick, he's going to let him donate.
"Dr. House, it's not a symptom," Benjamin says. "Come back after you're convinced I'm not sick, and I will give you your money." "No, you won't," House says.
"We have time for one more test before we lose him," House tells Park as they walk toward his office. They'll need to prove he does have an echovirus and that he's not cured yet. Park brings up Whipple's again. "Bad idea. There's no joint pain," House says. And where is Adams? "She thought the case was over. She has a job interview," Park says.
When they get to House's office, Park is confused to see Thirteen. "I'm here because I have time, and you have a crisis," Thirteen says. House thinks Benjamin might not be eating properly with his new budget lifestyle. "Magnesium deficiency?" Park says. House orders an expanded electrolyte profile. "No, he hasn't had anxiety or any trouble sleeping," Thirteen says. "I think it's Whipple's Disease."
Park mentions there's no joint pain. "Joint pain is common, but not definitive," Thirteen tells her. "Whipple's explains all of his symptoms, including the personality change, and it would respond to antibiotics, which is why he started to feel better. Which doesn't mean he's not still sick."
"You were right," House tells Park. "Counts for nothing if you can't defend it." He orders an upper endoscopy and a PCR test for Whipple's. And House thinks that he knows the real reason Thirteen is back: guilt. "Yes," she says, sarcastically. "I think that little of you and that much of me. You're nothing without me."
House thinks she's leaving everything behind to go have fun with her girlfriend and she feels guilty. "You're trying to make me feel guilty because you're saving lives here, and I think that's great. I'm proud to have been a part of it, but now I just want to be happy," she tells him.
"It just appeared in the last few weeks." A mother is telling House about the rash on her young teenage son's hands in the clinic. "He's having trouble holding a pencil in school." House examines the boy's hands. "Did you get anything different lately? A new baseball glove? A new kitten?" Nope. Mom mentions that their neighbors got a new pool, and he's been spending a lot of time there. "But if it were something in the water, it would be everywhere, wouldn't it?" she asks.
House sizes the boy up. "It is in the water," he says. Does that mean he's allergic to chlorine? House takes a deep breath. "He's allergic to summer lilac." She's confused. "That's my lotion. And it's not in the pool." "No," House says, "it's on the palms of his hands. In the pool is the neighbor's daughter. Or the neighbor's hot wife." Mom looks mortified as House turns to grab something from a drawer. "Here's some lube. Sorry, too late for your eyesight," House tells the glasses-wearing boy.
"Endoscopy didn't reveal any legions in the small intestine." Park is testing samples in the lab. House hands her a small gift box. "Found it in my office. Appears to be a gift. Can't be good."
"Damn it," Park says. She got Adams the job interview. "And that was supposed to be the end of it. I don't take charity." "Good for you, you loon," House says. She doesn't like owing people things. "So, either you're so insecure, that you feel like you need to always have the upper hand, or you're so arrogant, that the notion of a favor is insulting to you. Or it's your family. Some kind of immigrant pride thing. I'm betting on the last one."
"I just don't like it," she says. "It makes me feel icky." House can't believe she's never tried to analyze it. "That's even crazier than the gift thing!" Parks has found something on a slide: "There no sign of Tropheryma DNA. It's not Whipple's." "We did all we could," House says.
"You sure you want to do this?" Benjamin is on the operating table, about to go under, and Wilson gives him one last chance to back out of the kidney transplant. Benjamin laughs. "Relax, this is going to make me very happy." Suddenly his heart starts racing and his blood pressure drops. "Patient's unstable, surgery's off," Dr. Simpson says.
"Arrhythmia's back. He's on heparin and stable for now, but this could put him at risk for stroke or embolism." Adams and Park present Benjamin's stats to House in his office. They're still struggling for an answer. Spider bite? There'd be localized pain. LCDD? The kidneys would have been affected. Foreman walks in.
"Ah, Dr. Foreman," House says. "Perhaps you can help us. I can't decide whether to take out an 'I Told You So' ad in the New England Journal or stay classy and just spray paint it on your car."
"You're off the case," Foreman tells him. "You dosed him. Couldn't stand to lose him as a patient so you faked a symptom to prove you were right." House denies it, but Foreman's worked for him too long not to be suspicious. "I know how you operate. So when I see symptoms magically show up right when you need them . . ."
"Why would I do this now," House interrupts, "knowing that you could send me right back to jail?" Foreman is convinced, even though he can't prove it. House won't have any more access to Benjamin. "You can't let him do this!" Adams says, after Foreman leaves. House sighs. "He's the boss . . . and he's right."
"I assume you dosed the patient because you're really certain he has a neurological condition." Adams and House are talking in the hallway. House knows that she's interpreting his actions in the best possible light because she didn't get the job she interviewed for. And he wants to know what's going on between her and Park. "Either you're getting her gifts because you want her to like you, in which case I don't like you. Or you're getting her gifts to screw with her, in which case I will be teaching you my secret homie handshake."
"I just thought it was interesting she wouldn't accept that coffee," Adams says. "I wanted to see how deep it went." But now she just wants to win. There was a gift certificate in the box, to a spa.
"That's not going to do it," House says. "You're up against a lifetime of training. If you want to win, you've got to do something she can't possibly reciprocate. You've got to push her neuroses to the point where even she thinks she's crazy." Suddenly, House has an idea.
"Can I help you?" Thirteen confronts a worried-looking woman watching Benjamin from outside his room. It's his wife. "We're separated. I heard he was sick. I just wanted to see him." Thirteen says that he's talked about her, and it would mean a lot for him to see her. "I wanted to spend my life with him. But I need to feel like he loves me more than other people. Like he loves our kids more. Maybe that's selfish." She starts to cry. "I should go."
Thirteen enters Benjamin's room, pretending not to know who he is. "Are you the guy? The kidney donor?" she asks. Benjamin smiles, but he says there was a problem, and that he'll try again. "To give it to the same lady?" Thirteen asks. Benjamin says she needs it. "OK. Never mind," Thirteen tells him and turns to leave.
Benjamin stops her to ask what she wants. "It's nothing. It's just, I have polycystic kidney disease, and I need a transplant. And they say I don't have much time. So I heard that you were willing. But I'm glad it's going to someone." Benjamin grabs her arm: "I'll give it to you." But didn't he already promise it to someone else? He smiles.
"I have another one," he says. "Saving one life is good. Saving two is better." He tells her he could live on dialysis for years. "And then I could donate my other organs. Heart, lungs. I could save four or five more lives." Thirteen extricates herself and walks away. She calls House: "Foreman's going to need a diagnostician. This guy is crazy."
"Arrhythmia, muscle tremors, and, yes, mental changes. If his heart doesn't rupture, he's liable to rip it out and give it away." Adams is forced to admit that there might be a neurological component to Benjamin's illness during a DDx in House's office. Thirteen suggests Graves' disease or another thyroid problem. "Is she on the team now? Like, forever?" Park asks. And she says Benjamin's thyroid levels were within normal range when he was admitted. Coxsackie B virus? No pericarditis.
"What about porphyria?" Thirteen asks. "It's a little weird without the rash, but it fits all the other symptoms." If it's acute intermittent porphyria, that would explain why his symptoms keep occurring. House thinks that it's unlikely, but possible. "What else?" No response from the trio. "I said what else? Well, if there's nothing better than possible, then possible gets upgraded to probable." Adams says she'll start Benjamin on hematin, but Thirteen volunteers instead.
"So what's the answer?" House follows Thirteen on the way to Benjamin's room. "Are you now on the team? Like, forever?" But she doesn't know. "What am I supposed to do? I trained to be a doctor. I know how to take someone's pain away, how to make a stopped heart beat again. We've brought people's kids back, their husbands."
He was right: she's feeling guilty about leaving. "I have the skills to help people. Is it OK for me to walk away from that because I want to just have fun?" "Obviously not," House answers.
"How's your patient?" It's later in the evening, and House stops by Wilson's office. "She died a few hours ago," Wilson says. House tells him Thirteen's back. "No department, no money, and somehow you managed to con her into hanging around?" "I have a gift," House tells him. That gets him to thinking.
"It was a con," he says. "The patient was faking?" Wilson asks. "No, I was," House says. "I brought him in here under false pretenses. I was looking at his money. I ordered a bunch of random tests to keep him here. One of the them was a head CT, which uses iodine contrast. Thirteen was right: this is a thyroid issue. He has Plummer's disease. He has a nodule in his thyroid that produces excess hormone. Not enough to test abnormal, just more than his brain is used to. Just enough to make him irrationally generous. Make him vulnerable to overheating."
"Then you pumped his body full of iodine and kicked him into thyrotoxicosis," Wilson says. All they need to do is take out the nodule, and he'll be fine.
"Two days, one surgery. I now accept that you are all better." House is by Benjamin's bedside when he wakes. "Where's my money?"
"You made me sick," Benjamin says. "You were already sick - I just made you much, much worse," House tells him. "Seriously, the money."
Benjamin just looks at him. "You're not giving it to me, are you?" "When you're facing death, some things come into focus," Benjamin says.
"You love your family, you want them back," House says. "Your altruism was always a symptom."
"No, it wasn't. I'm still going to . . ." "What?" House interrupts. "Give less? How much less? Just enough to spoil your kids? They need it more than people with TB or children in Indonesia with no eyes? Diagnosticians with hearts of gold?"
"I don't want to give you money because you're an ass," Benjamin says. But House was an ass last week. "I love my family. I want to be with them. That doesn't make me a bad person." "No," House says. "It makes you a healthy person."
"My mechanic called. Said the work's been paid for." Park finds Adams in the doctor's locker room. "You mentioned your car was in the shop," Adams says. "That's $4,500 dollars," Park tells her, annoyed. "Smile, and say thank you, or I get you GPS," Adams says. Park sighs. "You win." She forces a smile that's more like a grimace. "Thank you."
"Your car's getting fixed," Park tells House in his office. "You were right - she went for it." "Good work," House tells her. "I'm just glad it's over," Park says. "Nothing is ever over," House tells her.
House watches as Thirteen embraces her girlfriend in the lobby and gets ready to leave for the night. "Thirteen!" he calls. "Need a minute." When she comes over, House tells her she's fired. "Don't come in tomorrow. I can work with people who've got nowhere else to go, people who've got something to prove, people who just get off on weird cases. What I can't work with is someone who's here so she doesn't have to feel bad."
"You're trying to save me," Thirteen says, tearing up. "Yes, I think that little of you, and that much of me," House says sarcastically. "OK," she says, trying to smile and pull herself together. "Bye, House."