All language subtitles for House M.D. - 8x22 - Everybody Dies.HDTV.LOL.en

Hey.

Don't bother.

He's dead.

You're dead too.

The fire isn't.

♪ House 8x22 ♪
Everybody Dies
Original Air Date on May 21, 2012

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
[Massive Attack's Teardrop]

♪

You might want to get up

and start heading
for the exit signs.

For all I know,

I already am up.

More interesting question is
why would I hallucinate

an ex-employee
who I last saw

with a self-inflicted
gunshot wound,

as opposed to
someone more...

busty?

Care to explain
why you're here?

The dead guy.

Who is he?

How'd you meet him?

I was in a car accident
last month.

I won a swimming trophy
in high school.

Your turn.

I-I ran out
of pain medication.

I got an orbital fracture.

It's just
taking ages to heal.

Take off your shirt.

My eye's up here.

Orbital fracture
means your face

went into the windshield,
which means your chest

went into
the steering wheel.

Painkillers can
suppress heart rate,

so unless you want me
to kill you,

take off your shirt,
let me do a heart exam.

I also wanted to see
the ring of burns

around your collarbone.

How'd you know?

The codeine allergy
you told the nurse about.

That's shorthand for
"give me the strong stuff,"

which matches your
seen-better-days-

because-my-life-
fell-apart suit.

The two old burns
on your fingers

mean you tend to nod off
with a cigarette in your hand.

No reason you shouldn't do that
with one in your mouth.

May all your doctors
be stupid.

Hold on a second.

That bruising around
your belly button.

Well, you might get
some fun drugs

out of this after all.

Cullen's sign.

But the ultrasound showed air
as well as blood.

Now, I know
what you're thinking.

Hemorrhagic pancreatitis.

But I also know
what I'm thinking.

Doesn't explain
the pneuomoperitoneum.

You took a new case?

You ran tests yourself?

I saw the chance
to help someone in need,

and I instinctively--

oh, no, wait, that was
someone else's instinct.

Wilson is dying.

Your parole officer
is probably

on his way here
right now.

How are you possibly
in a good mood?

Did you never see
Dead Poets Society?

Carpe diem.

Air in his abdomen
could mean

blah, blah, blah,
blah, blah.

But blah, blah,
blah, blah, blah.

Blah. Blah, blah.

Nobody cares
about the medicine.

It was perforated ulcer.

Laparotomy
to find the hole

in his tummy
and close it up.

You didn't answer
the team's question.

Which is weird,
because normally,

when I talk to
my own employees,

I'm under oath and hooked up
to a lie detector.

You were looking at
six months of prison

instead of five months
of Wilson.

Why happy?

Obviously I had a plan.

Obviously, obviously
you had a plan.

The more
interesting question

is why you didn't
tell the team.

I think it's because part of you
knew from the start

that the plan
wouldn't work.

- I need a meeting.
- I'm busy. Call my office.

Yes...

because wobbly tables

don't just unwobble
themselves.

I need a meeting.

Thanks for fitting me in.

My team has eight urgent,
life-or-death cases

that they've
been waiting for me

to accept or reject.

When is that not true?

Well, right now,
for one.

But tell my parole board
that I'm taking all eight...

that no one else
can crack them,

that you need me here
for the next five months

or eight people will die.

You're asking me
to perjure myself.

It's a tiny, white lie.

No offense.

Especially since,
from what I hear,

nothing black is tiny.

Except your penis,
I guess.

You really think I wanted
to cave in that ceiling?

It was a prank
that went wrong.

Dock my pay,
sue me--

Felony vandalism
should have added

another year or two
to your sentence.

It's a miracle
the parole board

agreed to six months.

I will go to jail,
eventually.

I will pay the price.

I just rather
that Wilson didn't.

Come on,
be a friend.

Okay.

But whatever cases you have,
you have to take them all.

"Be a friend"?

How many fingers
am I holding up?

Of course
you know it's three,

because you know
everything I know.

Everything my smack-addled
brain can remember,

including that
I actually said, "be a friend."

My point wasn't
that you said it.

My point was,
once again, why?

I think it's because
part of you knew

you were gonna need
a friend.

Part of you
knew the plan,

even when it was working,
wouldn't work.

And right now,
I'm curious about

why you're sitting
on the ground

instead of
heading for the door.

Guess we figured out
why you're seeing me,

your suicidal friend.

He'll call you
twice a day.

Then his wife
will call you twice a day

to make sure she understands
what he told her you told him,

which she won't
because he didn't.

Maybe you want to give
this one to Connors.

Where's House?

Don't know, don't care.

Working.

Excuse me.

No one has seen
or heard from him

since two nights ago.

I'm sure
he's enjoying himself.

Last time
he went to prison,

he maxed out
his credit cards.

Last time
he went to prison,

he thought he had
you waiting for him.

You think he could've
done something stupid?

I think stupid
is our best-case scenario.

Why do you want
to kill yourself?

Well, here's a reason.

I can't even get stoned
without some annoying jerk

deciding I need
to be deeply analyzed.

Isn't this just

an incredibly simple
calculation?

I'm going to jail,

losing my job,
losing my best friend.

Do I need more?

You think that's
the sum total of who you are?

A doctor?
A friend to Wilson?

I'm also
a tremendous baritone.

Now go away.

Even with your subconscious,
you're evasive.

Death's not interesting.

You exist
for what's interesting.

Puzzles, ideas, analysis.

Death is the opposite
of a cool puzzle.

It's eternal nothingness.

But you don't find life
interesting anymore.

Stop being an idiot.

Can I have
Kutner back, please?

How much pathetic wallowing
do I have to sit through?

How are things in hell?

Is the humidity
the big issue?

What happened next
with the guy's medical case?

Why?

Exactly.

Why am I,
meaning you,

still obsessing
about this case?

Obviously we think
it's relevant

to why we're still
sitting on the floor

of a burning building.

There was a code.

Gotta be a clot in his lungs.

We need to get him
to an O.R.

No time.
His O-2 stats are falling.

We have to suck it out here.
Bedside embolectomy.

Float a catheter
through his heart

and his oxygenation
will get even worse.

He'll die before
we can finish the procedure.

House,
we need a call here.

What are you doing?

What did you
give him?

Five, four...

three, two...

Naloxone.

We should've
got suspicious

when his visiting cousin

signed in
as "Mr. Tar H. Horse."

Heroin caused
the respiratory distress.

The naloxone
turned off the receptors,

caused your distress.

I'm not gonna stop
doing drugs!

It's reality that sucks!

You're saying
I'm lying...

to my subconscious?

People do it
all the time.

And like it or not,
you are a person.

He said every one
of those things.

But not then
and not like that.

This guy was going nuts
from the naloxone.

He couldn't be rational
if you wanted him to be,

which you did.

Why?

I compressed
the story a little--

Context matters.

You never
talk to patients

for non-diagnostic reasons,

but this guy...

Feeling better?

I'm not gonna stop
doing drugs.

You were a stockbroker.

Son of a stockbroker.

- Married, children.
- I was miserable.

Well, you say
you were miserable

because you need to
rationalize screwing it up.

Except I didn't.

I mean, I-I did.

But I'm not miserable.
Not anymore.

I had a ski injury

and painkillers
weren't enough,

and a friend of mine
gave me some heroin.

The second
it entered my veins,

it was like God
had taken over my body.

It was like there
was no more pain

or unhappiness in my life
or anybody else's.

But then
you lost everything.

Everything wasn't enough.

Because it's reality
that sucks.

Are you arguing
that he's a good role model?

- He's happy.
- He's dead.

You heard
what you wanted to hear.

The more interesting
question--

always--is why
you wanted to hear it.

You're stealing
this guy's oxygen?

There's oxygen
everywhere.

You passed
on all your cases,

reassigned them
to other doctors.

They weren't interesting.

They were my reason for getting
your sentence delayed!

Yeah, well, I guess
you'll have to tell

the parole board
something else.

Maybe that
I was in the O.R.

the entire day
the ceiling collapsed,

so I couldn't have caused
the plumbing problem.

- You set me up.
- Not really.

You were going to
basically perjure yourself

so that I could delay
jail time.

Doesn't it make more sense
to actually perjure yourself

so that I can actually
avoid jail time?

Why are you doing this?

Why are you risking
destroying yourself?

There's no risk.
I know you.

You'll do
the honest thing.

You'll lie.

No.

He's happy.

He's dead.

You weren't worried.

Of course I was worried.
My plan fell through.

The plan didn't matter.

Your plan to replace
that plan didn't matter.

Wilson didn't matter.
Jail didn't matter.

The only thing
that mattered,

the only thing
that ever mattered,

was the puzzle.

I noticed a slight twitch
in his thenar eminence,

which meant...

You're dying.

Because my thumb's
a little shaky?

Plus the thinning
in the muscle,

plus that speech you gave
at Yankee Stadium

saying you were
the luckiest man

on the face
of the earth.

Add them up,
it means ALS.

Lou Gehrig's disease?

You're trapped in your body,
you can't move or speak

while you just die.

If it makes you
feel any better,

at this rate,
it'll be fast.

You're not symmetrical.

Wait.

Now you're standing
at the door.

What happened
in the meantime?

And lo, there was
a miraculous wonder--

I walked
across the room.

No, you just skipped over
a chunk of conversation.

He swore that he would
live a better

and more selfless life
in his remaining time,

blah, blah, blah.

After two blahs,
I'd heard enough.

I moved to the door.

No, you're avoiding it.

Do you smell smoke?

Fair enough.

You're not symmetrical.

The veins on your right side
are distended.

What does that mean?

There's a bulge in
your superclavicular notch.

There's something
in there.

What?

Well, I'm not that good
a doctor.

Good news:
Your case is fascinating.

And good news
for you:

You're gonna live.

You've inhaled
a small branch,

probably while
you were realizing

that it's all worth it
while you were passed out

on a park bench.

Anyone else
would have coughed it up,

but 'cause you're a junkie,
your cough reflex is suppressed.

And it grew?

Not unless you also inhaled
a chunk of the sun

and a drip-irrigation system,
you idiot.

It set off an auto-immune
reaction, which--

I can't help saying this--

was the root
of all your problems.

You're smiling.

I was,
and now I'm not

because a moment's fun
a few days ago

does not trump
a friend dying.

Yeah, it does,
you idiot.

'Cause after he's dead,
you cry for a while,

and then you go back
to doing what you love.

Every patient
that I've had,

70 years from now,
they'll all be

as dead as Wilson.

Everybody dies.
It's meaningless.

When you solve a puzzle,
the world makes sense,

and everything
feels right.

And you'll always
have another one,

because people
always get sick.

It's shallow
and it's insignificant,

but if you don't
give a damn if idiots live,

why would you possibly
give a damn about shallowness?

It makes you happy.

And why would you
need more than that?

Go home.

Foreman!

House would never leave food
out here rotting for days.

His suitcases
are in his closet.

If we had handled this
differently--

We did the right thing.

Hello?

I'll let
his accountant know.

House no-showed
on a hooker two nights ago.

Outgoing calls.

Hooker...

me...
I didn't pick up.

Chinese place...

Wait, wait, wait.
Who's that?

He called four times.
I don't know.

It's a total disaster.

Do you have any idea
how hard it is

to schedule
a cable appointment

with the hours
that I work?

House has been missing
for two days.

We know
talked to you.

Anything you can tell us
about his mental state,

or where he was headed--
anything at all--

Would be a breach
of confidentiality

and a violation
of the law.

Not if he's a danger
to himself or someone else.

Is this coming out
of our 50 minutes?

Is this your
douche bag group?

Excuse me.

What makes you think
he's a danger to himself?

He hasn't been home,
but he didn't

take anything with him,
not even his cell.

You're not saying anything,
which means

he didn't specifically
mention suicide,

but you came out here
to talk to us,

so he must have said
something that worries you.

There are other ways
of reaching oblivion.

- Vicodin?
- He always has his Vicodin.

There's no reason
to call a shr--

his last patient
was a heroin addict.

So I guess
we're all done here.

The guy's address
has gotta be in the file.

What about God?

You were leaving,
and then you stopped.

Why?

Your theory
is I'm not leaving,

because I believe in God?

What,
he's calling me home?

Maybe falling through
that floor was a sign.

Maybe that the universe
hates you--something.

You really
don't believe?

Really?
Not in some deep crack

of some remote recess of some
dark corner of your mind?

No.

Except that some
deep crack

of some remote recess
of some dark corner

is here telling me--
that's enough.

In a burning building,

facing imminent death,
that's more than enough.

Pascal's wager
is facile.

Saying it's facile
is facile.

Why is it wrong?

And don't be logical.
Be desperate.

You gotta have something
to hold on to.

You can't live your life
based on something

you don't believe.

But you can
end your life

based on something
you don't believe?

What about love?

I lived with you
for years.

I know you believe
in love.

Foreman wouldn't help me,

which means I need you
to take the fall.

You do remember
I'm dying, right?

Which is you will never
spend a day in jail.

Fresh-faced,
cancer-ridden.

It's tough to do both,
but you pull it off.

Your fingerprints are
all over those hockey tickets.

I never admitted
to flushing anything.

My prints make sense

if I gave
those tickets to you

as an incentive
to stay alive.

And I was so angry
that you didn't respect

my dying wishes,
I took thousands of dollars

of season tickets
and flushed them down toilets?

All you have to do
is create reasonable doubt.

Great, what if I do more
than that?

What if I end up
in jail?

Or spending my final months
in endless hearings?

That is a risk
you are willing to take.

I have a reputation.

I have a legacy
that could--

Wilson...

I don't want to lose
this time with you.

Okay.

Thanks.

I knew I could
count on you.

Wait! Wait.

You want
the fries back?

I'm not gonna
take the fall.

Don't do this
to me, Wilson.

This is
our only option.

Exactly,
because you overplayed

your hand with Foreman,

because you knew
you had me as a backstop.

Even with me dying,
you just assumed

I'd be here
to bail you out.

Since you're here,

and you are
bailing me out,

seems like
a pretty safe assumption.

Hey!

I won't be here soon.

If I do this,
I'm teaching you

that your bad behavior
will always be rewarded.

You need to learn--

How to act
when you're gone?

'Cause if that's
the lesson,

we got a really great
opportunity coming up.

You'll just try
to find someone else,

and it won't work,
and it shouldn't work!

So that's the great wisdom
you're imparting?

That I'll always
be alone?

There's only one person
you can count on.

I thought
there were two.

I need to do this...

for you.

Wilson's right.

He's always right.

He's always been
your good side.

I always wondered
why I photographed so poorly.

And because he's always
played that role,

you've never had to develop
a conscience of your own.

People don't change.

Consciences don't
spontaneously develop.

You're wrong, Greg.

Which is...

why you'll be
better off without him.

You've been
looking to him

to find what you have
gotta find within yourself.

Something you can find.

Hold your child.

This is a reason to die.

This is what
my life could've been,

not what it can be.

If it could've been,

you're capable of it now.

You're married.
Cuddy's gone.

We aren't the only two people
who could love you.

Why settle so easily?

These are
just idiotic fantasies...

Greg, don't.

At odds with every
logical bone in my body.

Get up.

You do not
have to die in here!

Is this hell?

An eternity of people
trying to convince me to live?

Who says I'm here
to convince you to live?

You're the last one
I thought would hate me.

I don't hate you.

I love you.

And yet you think
I deserve to die.

But not as a punishment.

As a reward.

I think...
you've suffered enough.

You've given enough.

I think you deserve
a chance to just...

give up.

Like Wilson did?

Like Wilson did.

You accepted his choice,
that ending the pain

was better than the pain.

Why can't you
give yourself that gift?

This is the address
House's patient gave?

Everybody lies.

You smell smoke?

Just let go.

Just go to sleep.

I had a chance
to avoid this.

You had many chances,
and you blew them all up.

No, this was different.

They're all different,

but the reasons
are all the same.

You're arrogant.
You're self-destructive.

You only care
about yourself.

That moment
with the patient...

the chunk of the conversation
I skipped over...

I told him
he was dying.

If it makes you
feel any better,

at this rate,
it'll be fast.

Let me take the fall.

For you,
for that prank.

You don't
owe me anything.

- You tried to save me.
- I failed.

Motives don't matter.
Only actions.

Trying is an action.

Why are you trying
to talk me out of this?

You just fake
the records.

You say I came into
the clinic last week.

I'll tell the cops
you treated me like crap,

so I stole your tickets
and flushed 'em.

Thank you.

And you're doing this
because you're dying?

I'm doing this because
I have nothing left to lose.

So when you were living,
you did nothing for anyone

and you didn't care.
Now that you're dying,

you're willing to help
a virtual stranger.

Which means you're
a better person dying

than you ever were living,

and the world
is a better place

because I didn't
save you.

Which makes me wonder
why I'm about to tell you...

you're not symmetrical.

What's your point?

That you cared about him more
than you cared about yourself?

You cared about the puzzle

more than you cared
about yourself.

If I kept it to myself,

then it would
just be a puzzle,

but I opened my mouth
because I thought it was more.

You know it's the same,

or you wouldn't be
bickering with me

while the flames
lick at your feet.

You're afraid
of this decision,

and you are trying
to argue

until fate takes it
out of your hands.

You're taking
the cowardly way out.

And worse...

you're too cowardly
to even admit

you're taking
the cowardly way out.

You're right.

But I can change.

He could've gotten out.

People are found
sometimes, even in...

collapsed--

I think they're pulling
a body out.

Coroner confirms
it's him.

Dental records match.

House hired me
when no one else would.

He got me fired.

He gave me the guts
to get fired.

He gave me the courage
to quit.

Gregory was--

he was a good son.

He was a trying boyfriend,

but I...

never stopped loving him.

He was my husband for real.

I couldn't help but love him.

He was my boss.

And my employee.

And both times...

I learned from him.

He made me a better parent,

whether he meant to
or not.

He was willing to kill me.

And I'll always be grateful.

He wasn't always

easy to deal with.

But somewhere in there...

he knew how to love.

He was my friend.

The thing you have to...

remember--

the thing you can't forget

is that Gregory House

saved lives.

He was a healer.

And--and in the end...

House was an ass.

He mocked anyone--

patients, co-workers,
his dwindling friends--

anyone who didn't measure up

to his insane ideals
of integrity.

He claimed to be on some
heroic quest for truth,

but the truth is,
he was a bitter jerk

who liked making people
miserable.

And he proved that
by dying selfishly,

numbed by narcotics,
without a thought of anyone.

A betrayal of everyone
who cared about him.

Phone.

A million times
he needed me,

and the one time
that I needed him--

Oh, come on.
This is a funeral.

Just get it.

Well, this is embarrassing.

Could've sworn
I turned this off.

This isn't my phone.

Hi.

How?

I got out of the back
of the building.

The body--

Just switched
the dental records.

You're destroying
your entire life.

You can't go back
from this.

You'll go to jail
for years.

You can never be
a doctor again.

I'm dead, Wilson.

How do you want to spend
your last five months?

[Keep Me In Your Heart
by Warren Zevon]

♪ Shadows are falling ♪

♪ and I'm running
out of breath ♪

♪ keep me in your heart
for a while ♪

♪ If I leave you, it doesn't
mean I love you any less ♪

♪ keep me in your heart
for a while ♪

♪ when you get up
in the morning ♪

♪ and you see
that crazy sun ♪

♪ keep me in your heart
for a while ♪

♪ there's a train
leaving nightly ♪

♪ called when all
is said and done ♪

♪ keep me your heart
for a while ♪

♪ sha-la-la-la ♪

♪ la-la-la-la-la-li-lo ♪

♪ keep me in your heart
for a while ♪

♪ sha-la-la-la ♪

♪ la-la-la-la-li-lo ♪

♪ keep me in your heart
for a while ♪

♪ ♪

♪ sometimes
when you're doin' ♪

♪ simple things
around the house ♪

♪ maybe you'll think of me
and smile ♪

♪ you know I'm tied to you ♪

♪ like the buttons
on your blouse ♪

♪ keep me in your heart
for a while ♪

♪ sha-la-la-la ♪

♪ la-la-la-la-la-li-lo ♪

♪ keep me in your heart
for a while ♪

♪ sha-la-la-la ♪

♪ la-la-la-la-li-lo ♪

♪ keep me in your heart
for a while ♪

When the cancer starts
getting really bad...

Cancer's boring.

[Enjoy Yourself
by Louis Prima]

♪ Enjoy yourself ♪

♪ it's later than you think ♪

♪ enjoy yourself ♪

♪ while you're still
in the pink ♪

♪ the years go by ♪

♪ as quickly as a wink ♪

♪ enjoy yourself,
enjoy yourself ♪

♪ it's later
than you think, hey ♪

♪ you're gonna take
that two-week trip ♪

♪ no matter come what may ♪

♪ but every year
you put it off ♪

♪ you just can't get away ♪

♪ next year for sure
you'll hit the road ♪

♪ you'll really
get around ♪

♪ but how far
can you travel ♪

♪ when you're six feet
underground? ♪

♪ enjoy yourself ♪

♪ it's later
than you think ♪

♪ enjoy yourself ♪

♪ while you're still
in the pink ♪

♪ the years go by
as quickly as a wink ♪

♪ enjoy yourself,
enjoy yourself ♪

♪ it's later than you think ♪

♪ enjoy yourself ♪

♪ don't be a fool ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==