It's estimated
the observable universe
is 93 billion
light-years across.
It's probably
more accure...
I'm gonna be so far away.
I don't care.
I don't want to break up.
I'll come on the weekends.
Stanford's on the other side
of the country.
My dad has, like, ten million
frequent flyer miles.
He won't care.
Oh.
Are we all right over here?
Uh, yes, Mr. Damon.
I just had something
caught in my throat.
Boy, you know you're not
supposed to have
any food
or drinks in here.
Oh, it's just water.
I have a cough.
I didn't want
to disturb anyone.
We can only observe
4% of the universe.
The rest of it
is unaccounted for.
I never knew you
were such a good liar.
Well, a little more vodka,
and you might find out
some more things
you didn't know about me.
Really?
Nicholas.
Yes, sir?
What conclusions can we draw
from the incredible
number of stars?
That the movie's either gonna be
really good or really bad.
I was thinking more
about the implications
for extraterrestrial life.
Well, I guess if there's
an infinite number of stars,
odds are there's at least
one galaxy with life
other than our own
or
pr... not?
Or our solar system
is somehow unique.
The question then becomes,
"in what way?"
The question then becomes,
"could you possibly teach us
anything more useless?"
What are you looking at?
Abby?
Oh, my God. Something's wrong.
She's not breathing.
Abby?
Call 911.
# #
Would you mind
at least putting a napkin
under your jelly toast?
Get a table, and I won't
eat it on the couch.
Yes, you will.
But I won't have
a good excuse.
Why don't you
go get a table?
Not my condo.
You have my permission.
Pick out
whatever you want.
Then it would be
a reflection of me, not you.
That wouldn't be right.
No, it would be
a reflection of the fact
that the guy who's been
mooching off of me
for as long
as I can remember
isn't a complete ingrate.
You've never
furnished a home.
I have furnished
a bunch of homes.
No, you've married
a bunch of women
who furnished
a bunch of homes.
You want to eat
off something? Fine.
Move your piano in here
and eat off that.
You're afraid.
Of a dining table?
You know, they don't
actually come to life
when you put a knob
off your bedpost on them.
You are what you sit in.
Your friends, your job,
your furnishings--
it all defines you.
You don't really
believe that.
You just don't want to do
the shopping.
Buy some furniture,
or admit that you're
empty inside.
Huh.
X-rays confirm the fluid
that almost suffocated
her to death
was from pulmonary edema.
Means the problem's either
in her heart or lungs.
Tox screen's clean
for everything
except the alcohol,
and her B.A.C. was barely .05.
That means she only had
one or two drinks, tops.
And there's no sign
of trauma.
How'd you know?
Because if there was,
Cuddy wouldn't have needed me
to take the case.
How do you know Cuddy--
Foreman's the only one
with the balls to take a case
without checking with me,
and he's still
working on breakfast,
which means that the...
18...
no, 17-year-old
honor student--
Cuddy has a soft spot
for smart girls,
and they don't start drinking
until second semester,
senior year.
So either you think
that smart women
look out for each other,
which means you're an idiot,
or you think Cuddy's
not smart, which means...
well, I guess
it's the same both ways.
Then how did you--
Picture fell out of the file.
She looks smart.
Where's Taub?
You don't already know?
Yeah, he's at home
in a fight with his wife.
I'm just curious
what he wanted me to know.
His car has a flat tire.
He's waiting for a tow truck.
Qhat about rising
blood pressure
from binge drinking?
It could set off
a hypertensive crisis,
cause heart failure.
Two drinks
is hardly a binge.
Certainly not
if you're an Aussie.
But when
an american schoolgirl
has two drinks
before 10:00 am,
it's a pretty sure bet that
the plan is to have a lot more.
Probably wasn't the first time
she had that plan.
We'll get
a C-13-pyruvate mri
to check for cardiac
lactic-acid levels.
Someone call Taub.
Tell him to cut the ball
and chain on his own time.
We're arguing
about couples yoga?
No.
We're arguing over the fact
that we don't ever do
anything together anymore.
We don't ever do
anything together?
Chris, I love you, but I swear,
if you start talking to me
like I'm on
the witness stand again,
I'm gonna break your neck.
Honey, we do stuff
together all the time.
Really? Like what?
Besides sleeping, watching tv,
going out to dinner,
what do we do together,
just the two of us?
We...
You don't like
going out to dinner?
All right,
I'll do the yoga.
Forget it.
Now you don't want me
to do it?
Just go to work.
No.
I'm not leaving
until we work this out.
I'm fine.
Please, just go.
Where's Abby Nash?
I'm Nick, her boyfriend.
This is my dad.
Hi.
You can wait in--
Where is she?
Is she okay?
She's having some tests run.
Is she okay?
We think her drinking
may have damaged her heart.
Her heart?
No, she doesn't drink,
Not that much.
Just when she's at school?
Nick, what's he
talking about?
It was a field trip.
One of the kids had a fake I.D.
But, dad, you know Abby.
Tell him.
Well, I know
what she's like
when the two of you
are around me, but...
If you're right,
the tests
will come back negative.
Can you give her
a message?
I brought her homework...
and I love her.
Sorry I'm late.
Nick loves you.
House doesn't believe
you got a flat tire.
What does he think
I was doing?
Fighting with the wife.
Why would I lie about that?
She wants me to do yoga.
We need thinner cuts.
When you and Cameron
had disagreements--
I'm probably
not the best guy
to go to
for marital advice.
Sorry.
It's just--
Punch in
to the mitral valve.
All right,
I get the message.
No--no, I'm serious.
What is that?
Could be a fungus.
E.R. drew blood cultures--
all negative,
no parasites, no fungus.
It could be fastidious
enteric bacteria.
You think she's been eating
your wife's cooking?
Hey, I'm on your side, man.
I am not fighting
with my wife.
I had a flat tire.
It's in my trunk.
You can go look at it
if you want.
Don't need to.
Face tells me
you're bluffing.
Not yours--Chase's.
If she was infected
through the intestinal tract,
she'd have intestinal symptoms.
There are other ways
to get enteric bacteria
into the bloodstream.
She's not
an intravenous drug user,
she has no tattoos,
and she doesn't have
any scars
that would indicate
she's a cutter.
Transesophageal echo
could give us a better idea
of what we're looking at.
If that valve
is about to dehisce,
echo could trigger
a heart attack.
So come up
with a better idea
or have a crash cart ready.
Why are you
lying to house?
Chase told me.
What's the big deal?
Maybe we can talk
about this another time...
or never.
I really don't think
she's gonna tell anyone.
If I admit we're fighting,
he's gonna want
to know what about.
So tell him,
or tell him
it's none of his business.
This is easier.
Really? Because it seems
much harder.
What do I know?
I'm not a guy.
Yes...
If only I could be as open about
my emotional life as you are.
It's not about the yoga.
Really?
I thought it was,
since we spent an hour
talking about yoga,
but what do I know?
I'm not a girl.
My guess is she thinks you don't
want to spend time with her
because you're spending it
with someone else.
If she thinks I'm cheating,
she would ask.
Because
you'd tell the truth?
I'm not seeing
anyone else.
Doesn't matter.
You have a history.
And that's not her fault.
So what am
I supposed to do?
I can't prove a negative.
That is a problem.
There's the heart.
Valves look fine--
no vegetations,
no myxomatous changes.
Can you give her
a little more sedative?
She's dissecting.
She's rupturing.
Get the scope out.
Aah!
This doesn't make sense.
Her B.P. is normal, and
her heart rate was controlled.
We'll figure it out later.
We've only got about
30 seconds to get her open.
No leakage
from cannulation site.
Nice.
Let's see
if she'll start up.
Cardiac paddle.
Charging.
And go.
Come on.
Again.
Go.
Pushing five ccs
adrenaline.
Zap her again.
No.
It's not working.
Clear.
Clear.
Normal sinus rhythm.
Thank God.
T.E.E. and intra-operative
visualization
showed no vegetations
on the valves,
No structural abnormalities.
The dissection
means we were wrong
about alcohol causing
a hypertensive crisis.
And by "we" you mean "you."
Yeah. You were the one who
didn't have any better ideas.
It's not my fault.
I was busy
trying to judge Taub.
Since we already
ruled out trauma,
the dissection's probably
a genetic defect.
We're running the tests.
She's not marfanoid.
What about an allergy?
A severe enough one
could set off
a systemic immune reaction,
cause fluid in the lungs,
and inflammation
that could weaken the aorta.
If it was an allergy,
she'd be getting better
in the hospital,
not worse.
Unless it was inside her.
Meaning?
You want my sperm?
We think a severe
allergic reaction
could be causing
systemic breakdown.
To my son's sperm?
Actually, his semen
is more likely the problem,
which, I realize, is not
what you were reacting to.
When's the last time
the two of you
had unprotected sex?
Never.
I use a condom.
You always use a condom...
For everything?
Well, for most everything.
When?
The night
before she collapsed.
I'm placing a drop of Nick's
semen protein onto the skin.
Then I'll abrade it
with a needle,
Check for a rash
in an hour or so.
Mom, come on...
we've been dating
for three years.
Look, I'm not mad,
sweetheart.
I'm just confused.
A systemic reaction
can be triggered
by the protein in semen.
In most cases,
the reaction is fairly minor.
But in rare cases,
repeat exposure can trigger
a hypersensitivity response.
Repeat exposure?
Ugh, I know, I know--
Three years.
Is it supposed to hurt?
The reaction
should take longer than...
No, it's not that.
Ow.
Abby, what's wrong?
My stomach.
Blood in the urine.
Aah! Aah!
Aah! Aah!
Help me! Aah!
No allergic reaction.
On the other hand,
now her kidneys are failing.
Could be some kind
of neuropathy.
Syphilitic
lightning pains?
It's not syphilis.
Vdrl and enzyme immunoassays
were negative.
What about a blood clot?
While she's on anticoagulants
from the aortic surgery?
Interstitial nephritis?
Wouldn't cause the edema
or dissection.
But cancer could.
Would you care to be
a little more specific?
If I could, I would have.
We could do
a full-body scan.
We hate full-body scans.
And by "we" you mean "you."
We also hate
when a patient dies
before we figure out
what's wrong with them.
Do the scan.
How can you convince someone
you're not cheating on them?
Don't cheat.
After a while,
they'll catch on.
What if I don't want
to wait that long?
Take them with you wherever
you go for 24 hours a day.
So your wife's
a little insecure.
Is that so bad?
At least you know
she still cares.
I know she cares.
What I want is for her
to be happy.
What?
You don't think
I want my wife to be happy?
Sure...
As long as it makes
you happy.
What do you think?
I think
you work quickly.
Piece of cake--
You give them money,
they give you furniture.
Not bad, huh?
Nope.
It's not bad at all.
It's taking
a really long time.
Just hang in there
and try not to talk
unless you really have to.
It can affect the images.
What was that?
Hello?
Are you still there?
I think there's something
wrong with the machine.
It's not the machine.
It's an earthquake.
Hold on.
We'll get you out.
Get me out now.
Aah!
Ugh!
Aah!
Oh, my God!
I can't hold on!
It's a black hole.
She's hallucinating.
I certainly hope so.
Hallucination
means brain problem.
Brain problems
don't split your aorta.
A vascular problem
could explain both.
Inflammation
in the blood-vessel walls
leads to dsection
in the aorta
and could cause
an aneurysm in the brain
that could cause
the visions.
It's a bit convoluted,
but brain and heart function
are susceptible too.
If there was any sign
of inflammation of the aorta,
that would make sense.
House!
It's not funny.
I got enough
problems already.
Trust me.
This is gonna help.
An aneurysm explains
the hallucinations.
And it's the one thing
we haven't excluded
from the differential.
Your texting does not prove
you're faithful.
Just proves you know
she thinks you're unfaithful.
Can't force trust.
What did she hallucinate?
The content
of the hallucination
isn't relevant.
Not usually.
Not ever.
We know nothing.
Brain knows all.
You get an ulcer,
you don't know it,
but the brain increases
mucin secretions.
It knows
what the problem is,
knows where
the problem is.
It's a big logical jump
from a body's immune response
to the brain giving
subconscious diagnostic clues.
What about dreaming
about waterfalls,
Running streams if you need
to go to the bathroom?
Sure. That's the same
as the brain shouting,
"you have
pancreatic cancer."
Her subconscious is trying
to tell her something.
We need to eavesdrop.
She was screaming she was being
sucked into a black hole,
ao we should look
for a tumor in her anus?
We need the whole story.
The cognitive pattern
recognition program
might tell us
what's going on in her head.
Or we could act
on something
based in science,
not science fiction.
Get an mra with contrast
to see if she
has an aneurysm,
unless you think Cuddy's
gonna go for the mind reading.
Fine.
Do the mra.
When it comes back negative,
we can move on to the...
crazy but possible ideas.
What did you do
with the furniture?
I returned it.
You told me to buy it.
But you didn't buy it.
You rented it.
You made one phone call
to Economy Furniture Supply--
"we get it done
so you don't have to."
So what?
We had a table, chairs--
But no clue
what any of it meant.
Fine.
I'll hire a decorator.
Perfect. Another woman
to tell you who you are.
I'll hire
a male decorator.
Step inside
one furniture store
and find one thing
you like.
I like not doing this.
One.
Abby.
Hi.
Where's my mom?
She went down
to get some breakfast.
How are you feeling?
Well, besides the fact
that I can barely breathe
and I ache all over,
not good.
Anything I can do?
Just don't go.
I'm not going anywhere.
Been a while since
we've gone more than a day
without doing that.
I'm not going anywhere.
What'd you say?
I've been thinking.
Been a long time since
we went more than a day
without doing that.
We have a secret.
Now, you don't need to answer
right now, but...
Abby, I want to marry you.
Tell him the secret.
It's okay.
Something's wrong.
What?
Abby, what are you feeling?
I don't know.
Your secret
is killing you.
I see, um...
maybe it's all the medication.
I'm just--um...
Abby.
Can you hear me?
You deserve to die.
We need four milligrams
lorazepam.
She seized
for over a minute.
Inner-ictal E.E.G.
showed no
synchronous discharges.
And the mra?
No aneurysms or arterial
or venous malformations
in the brain.
As predicted.
What did we say
we'd move on to?
Out-of-body experiences
can be induced
by sensory overload
in the temporoparietal junction.
Temporoparietal junction
was clean on mri,
mra, and whole-body scan.
Which just leaves us
with the question
of what happened during
the out-of-body experience.
If I say
her blood pressure
shot up over 200
and she bit her tongue,
would that be
a satisfactory answer?
Sure. If you then went on
to answer the following--
did she float above her body?
Did she see jesus?
Did she bathe
in the Ganges?
No, no, and no.
Can we get back
to the medical science?
No.
She claims she emerged
from her body
as a younger version of herself
and started talking.
She couldn't remember
what was discussed.
But I'm sure
it wasn't a differential.
House, cognitive
pattern recognition
is 50 years from being
a useful diagnostic tool.
Even if we can
get the equipment,
it takes hours
for the initial mapping.
If she has another seizure,
she could stroke out.
Coincidentally,
she could also have a stroke
if we do nothing.
I'm not telling a mother
who's scared out of her mind
that our best shot
is a magic trick.
It's not magical.
It's experimental.
Just like washing your hands
after pooping once was.
And technically,
it's not our best shot.
I'm pretty sure
it's our only shot.
Perfect.
So, Foreman,
go get her consent.
The rest of you go down
to the cog sci lab.
Equipment
should already be there.
I'll catch up.
Thanks for the invite.
I'm not sure I'm up
for the hospital food.
Good, 'cause I wasn't
planning on lunch.
While you watch video clips,
a computer maps how your brain
processes the images.
How long
will it take?
Six hours. But that's
really just the prep.
Once the computer maps how
she processes the information,
we'll put her
under twilight sedation,
use the same equipment
to monitor her
unconscious thoughts.
Hopefully, it'll spit out
a very basic video
of whatever's
going on in her head.
And what will
that tell you?
Hopefully,
it'll give us a clue
as to where your brain
thinks the problem is.
A lot of "hopefullys."
Could it hurt her?
We're at
a diagnostic dead end.
We've got to try
something.
This is much better
than lunch.
I agree.
What made you
think of this?
I missed you.
No, I-I mean this--
car, in the parking lot.
I just don't like feeling
like maybe this isn't
the first time you've done this.
It's the first.
I love you.
You know that, right?
Yes.
I want you to be able
to trust me.
And I want to, but--
Inspiration point doesn't open
till after dark.
Got a real cool magic show
about to start.
Also, I'm gonna need
to check your spare.
Abby, can you think
of something specific?
Like what?
Doesn't matter.
Just make it a single image.
What are you thinking?
About Nick
playing baseball.
Holy crap.
That's amazing.
Yeah.
Now all we have to do
is read her subconscious
and hope that
it's completely rational
and went to med school.
Does anything
get you excited?
Can I help you
with something?
Yes. Uh, I was wondering
if you could tell me
a little bit
about this dining table.
It's made of wood,
and you eat off it.
So you're paid
by commission?
It's furniture.
Find something you like.
Let me know.
I'll ring it up.
Thank you so much.
Okay, that's--
that's not the one.
That is
a remarkable collection,
if I can show it to you.
I'm Gabriella.
I'm really just looking
for a nice dining-room table.
I see.
You're daring.
Yes, I do that
sometimes,
but...
Right now
why am I daring?
You're not
constrained by rules.
What else attracts you
in the patio section?
Wait, this
is a patio tab--
For outside?
Well, it's taken us
just over an hour
to prove that she has
a very boring subconscious.
Anyone ever tell you
you can be a real buzzkill?
Yes.
Stars?
Maybe that's a stripe?
It's the sky.
She's thinking
about the moon
and the stars
and the sky.
She's going to Stanford
to study physics.
It's not a big revelation
that she'd think about the sky.
Or star could be
a white blood cell.
Leukemia?
Who's that?
Her dad?
He died
when she was eight.
What did daddy die of?
Um, private-plane crash--
no connection.
Stars, moon, sky,
qhite blood cells,
heart valves,
black holes, or anus
or a million other circular
passageways into the body
and her dad.
What do you think
it means?
She likes school,
and she has daddy issues--
Neither of which
helps us.
So now what do we do?
Start over?
We obviously
missed something.
What about the liver?
What about her left toe?
Oh, sorry.
I thought we were randomly
picking out body parts
that had nothing to do
with her symptoms.
Liver's responsible
for proteins,
immunological effects,
production of red blood cells.
Might be able
to explain the lungs,
the hallucinations.
Not the aortic dissection.
Kidneys are also failing.
We add in polycystic disease,
could explain the dissection.
So that's one
imperfect theory,
plus a rare complication
of a second theory,
which gives us
a complete explanation.
Don't polish
the notion, Foreman.
Pineal gland
is calcified.
It'supposed to be
calcified.
Happens after puberty.
What if
it's obscuring a tumor?
It's the only place
we couldn't look inside.
Get a better look
at her pineal gland
with three tesla
fast spin echo mri.
You're pacing my office
'cause you're buying furniture?
No, I'm pacing
your office
because I'm physically incapable
of buying furniture.
For Amber's old place?
Yeah.
Uh, it needs some new--
I know you bought
the place I wanted.
You're a jerk.
Let's move on.
Hire a decorator.
I'm supposed to find me.
Backpack through Europe.
I know it's hard to believe,
but you know what says
even more
about who you are
than your furniture?
The fact that you are
letting House
tell you how
to buy furniture.
Call Beatrice.
Mri revealed
no remarkable features
on her pineal gland.
But there were slightly
elevated levels
of lactate dehydrogenase
isoenzymes.
Which we would expect to see
if there was an allergic
reaction happening.
There's definitely
no allergy.
Parasite?
There's this
middle eastern parasite--
How exactly do you
want to be shot down?
On the basis of the fact
that she's never been within
6,000 miles of the middle east,
or on the basis of the fact
that all our scans
and urine samples
came back clean?
And yet
she's still failing,
system after system.
So either we find
the answer at autopsy
or...
What?
I got nothin'.
I was gonna head out.
If there's any change,
I assume you'll page me?
Are you having an affair?
Does it bother you
that your wife
doesn't have the guts
to actually ask that question,
and I do?
On both ends, yes.
Difference is,
I'm not afraid of the answer.
And I might believe you.
I'm not having an affair.
But you want to.
No, I don't.
I'm through
living like that.
Why?
What, you finally got
to the point
where half your age plus seven
just isn't young enough?
Talk to you later,
House.
Or is it because you now really
are old enough to be their--
the dad.
Does he travel for work?
What do you mean,
"does he"?
He died
almost ten years ago.
Not hers,
her boyfriend's.
He's the one in her visions.
I'm your son's
girlfriend's doctor.
Oh.
It's a mouthful,
But probably not
as tricky as your title.
Um, okay.
Is Abby gonna be all right?
Do you travel a lot?
Yeah, I have
a food-import business. Why?
Where'd you go?
All over--
France, Italy,
the mediterranean. Why?
I think you exposed her
to a parasite.
Oh.
I thought the scans
didn't show any.
Because she
doesn't have any.
But you just said--
it's cool.
My theory is that her body
was able to kill off
the parasite,
but what it couldn't do
was get rid
of the shell,
which doesn't show up
on the scans.
That little piece
of microscopic garbage
set off
an allergic reaction
called cerebellar
schistosomiasis
Delayed
hypersensitivity allergy,
or cusdehaaa.
Risky, unpleasant treatment,
but completely curable.
Well, that's fantastic.
You'd think so,
wouldn't you?
Only thing is,
did you ever have sex
with your son's girlfriend?
Where the hell do you
get off asking--
Shut up.
See, I can't treat this
unless I can confirm it,
and the only way
she could have been exposed
to this parasite
is sexually,
which means
she's gonna die very soon
unless you admit
that you slept with her.
Dad?
What's going on?
Gee, this is bad,
because you now have to choose
between her living
and the truth
becoming public.
And frankly,
given what the truth is,
it's a tough call.
You'd broken up.
She was crying.
Your girlfriend is not
allergic to your semen.
She's allergic
to the Egyptian parasite
swimming around
in your dad's semen.
You slept with Abby?
I was drunk.
We both...
No need to explain.
Technically, she was legal.
Wait, wait, wait.
Wait. Wait!
Hey...
All things considered,
it's actually great news.
So what do you think?
You wussed out,
and you used a decorator.
Why can't that be me--
The wuss
who loves decorators?
'cause it's not.
Okay. It's not.
But don't return it.
I can't keep doing this.
You have to.
You can't keep letting
other people define you.
Not another elephant.
Decorator
didn't pick this.
You're gonna have to buy
your own cape.
# #
I like what this says
about you, Wilson.
# #
# we skipped
the light fandango #
# turned cartwheels
'cross the floor #
# I was feeling
kind of seasick #
# the crowd called out
for more #
# the room
was humming harder #
# as the ceiling
flew away... #
I don't remember him
at the wedding.
Do you?
I don't remember most of the
people who were at our wedding.
Which is why...
I thought I'd ask
the love of my life
to marry me.
We're already married.
I want to be better at it.
Oh, it's beautiful.
# turned a whiter #
# shade of pale #
# #
What'd you tell him?
That it doesn't mean
she doesn't love him.
And he bought it?
It's true.
Your wife say yes?
How did you know--
Monkey see, monkey do.
At least he has
the young and stupid excuse.
She said yes.
Good for you.
Thank you.
# that her face
at first just ghostly #
# turned a whiter #
# shade of pale #
