All language subtitles for House.S07E16.BDRip.x265-ION265

Lane: One. Don't tense
up now, go with him.

Two. That's it, stay in rhythm.

Three. What are you doing,
Lane? You're tipping in.

Four. What's your problem? Get
your ass down. Get back in the middle.

Five. You're weak, you've got
all kinds of daylight under you.

Six. Damn, Lane, you
should be schooling this bull.

Seven. Get up, set your hips
before the kick comes down.

Nice recovery.

Now, just wait till he turns
back away from your hand.

Whoo!

Lanellane!

What the hell just happened?

I was about to
ask you the same thing.

I'm fine.

Okay.

I assume cuddy told you
that she dumped me?

She did.

And that I'm back on Vicodin.

She told me you had
taken a Vicodin.

And then I took a lot more.

And so on.

But you're fine.

Well, I'm not fine as in fine,

but I'm fine as in you don't
have to worry about me.

Because you cleared out
your bank account,

checked into a hotel and
started back on Vicodin.

Because I'm going to be fine,
as in fine, very soon.

Until that happens,
are you sure Vicodin is...

My leg hurts.

You've been able
to handle the pain.

It's gotten worse.

Not physically worse.

Worse is worse.
Pain doesn't discriminate.

Neither do the pills.

The Vicodin and
the five-star pampering

that I'm going to get
over the next few days

should be enough to
get me through it.

So, you don't want to
just avoid the issue.

You want to avoid
avoiding the issue.

Sorry.

Nothing is either as bad or as
good as we think it is at the time.

It's why t.O. Mocks his
opponents immediately after scoring.

He doesn't wait till
his friend shows up

the next day to
tell him to deal with it.

Two weeks from now,

maybe a little more,
maybe a little less,

my life will be back to its
usual level of crappiness.

Till then, the only real issue

is how much I'm going
to spend on hotel charges.

Good morning, sir. I've got
your deluxe breakfast for two.

Do I have to count
the strawberries?

Don't worry, you
can trust me with anything.

Including your food.

After he and I have sex,

I'm going to slit his throat and
then disembowel him in the bathtub.

No problem, I'll cancel
the morning maid service.

Would you like me to
have them clean up later

when they come to
turn down your bed?

Why didn't I meet you
six months ago?

Thank you very much.

And if there's
anything else I can do

to make your stay here
more enjoyable,

just ring the concierge
and ask for carnell.

Eat fast.

We're expecting company.

Okay, this might not be
such a bad idea.

What do you think
he meant by "anything"?

Take some time
for yourself, relax.

I know it's a figure of speech,

but he really did seem
to underline the "anything".

Maybe, talk to someone?

Already scheduled.

Really?

I'm not an idiot.
I know I need help.

Okay, that's great.

I meant like a counselor.

I know.

But you meant a hooker.

Yeah.

Baby steps.

Taub: House screwed us.

Ten years of doctors
cobbling him back together.

Metal rods in every limb,

pin stabilizing his spine,
five screws,

and a titanium plate
in his skull.

Can't do mris, x-rays are
probably going to be useless as well.

Every piece of metal
is going to obscure something.

And house isn't sick.

Why would you say that?

Cuddy dumped house. He's out
somewhere expecting us to indulge him

while he ignores his job
and licks his wounds.

Cuddy dumped him?

Don't do that,
don't get sucked in.

He loves her!

What, you can't feel bad
for him for five minutes?

I can feel bad for him

while still expecting him to act
like an adult, show up for work

and not go on a booze,
Vicodin, and hooker-filled bender.

Which is why for now, we're going
to handle the case without him.

Oh! Is that the reason?

I thought it was because you can't
pass up any chance to seize control.

I said "we", you want
pretty please, too?

Wait, I understand the booze
and the hookers, but why Vicodin?

Wow, you really don't have
any friends in here, do you?

Houseis a Vicodin addict.

He's been clean for two years.

He's used here at work?

Foreman: Yes,
that is very troubling.

Almost as much as
the fact that our patient

has a ruptured diaphragm,
cracked sternum, broken nose,

and partial hearing loss,

which can be explained
by a bull jumping on him.

And a neurological disorder,
low-grade fever,

nausea, and peripheral
muscle weakness that can't.

What if the hearing loss
wasn't caused by the bull?

That's just when he noticed it.

Inner ear pathology
can affect the equilibrium

and cause disorientation.

Making it appear to be
a neurological disorder.

So how do we confirm?

Ct is just going to show us
the plate and screws

holding his skull together.

We can do calorics and an eng.

If he has inner ear damage,
it'll affect his balance.

Sounds good, go ahead.

Go ahead? Really?

What if one of us disagrees?

I happen to agree
with foreman. Go do it.

You knew he was an addict
before you got involved.

Didn't end the relationship...

You knew he was an ass before...

I didn't end it...

You told him you did
not want him to change.

And I was wrong.
You don't know that!

You thought you
were going to die.

Do you really think that was the
right time to make this kind of decision?

But I thought about it.

A lot.

Ihavent changed my mind.

He thought you
were going to die.

Nobody knows the right way
to react in that situation.

Just give him another chance.

He deserves it.

I know.

But this isn't about
what he deserves.

When things go wrong, I don't
want to hope that I'm not alone,

I want to know it.

With house,

every time I needed
him to step up...

It's just never
going to be that!

It's not his fault, it's who
he is. I should've known it.

This is my fault.

Well, he's back on Vicodin.

So you might want

to keep an eye on
his new patient.

Eng was normal,
means his inner ear is...

House: Morons.

It wasn't... whoa, wait a sec.

The acoustics in here
are beautiful.

Morons!

You say it.

Morons.

Who was that?

Something carnell got me.

It wasn't that
ridiculous of a theory.

Great theory.

It's a ridiculous test.

You can't give a standard
balance test to a champion bull rider.

If you're going to test Superman's
strength, you need a bigger barbell.

Find one, make him
lift it, then call me,

and tell me how high it got.

And tell cuddy that
spying is for cowards.

Just keep me posted.

I will. I will.

You said my inner ear was fine.

Previous test was
for regular people.

You were banged up
pretty bad in the accident,

but given your
athletic ability...

Wasn't no accident. That bull
had malice and forethought.

You mean afterthought.

Whatever, he was pissed.

Can you blame him?

Not at all.

If he don't do
what he gets paid for,

I don't get to do
what I get paid for.

Ever think of getting paid
for doing something else?

You're running out
of bones to break.

You ever think of doing
something you don't love?

It has its downside,
but everything does.

There ain't nothing
like those eight seconds.

And traveling around
getting to meet the fans,

that ain't so bad either,
if you know what I mean.

All right, now what?

Foreman: We're going
to start rocking the platform

and changing your visual field

while you balance on
just your right leg.

Here you go, Lane.

I'm going to start slow.

If you start to experience
any nausea, disorientation,

just let us know and
we'll stop the test.

You got it.

Whoa.

That is amazing.

We can stop. There's obviously
nothing wrong with his inner ear.

Now what?

And I direct that
question not to my boss,

but to anyone who has an answer.

If it's not in his ear,
it's got to be his brain.

But if we can't get any
images, then how do we...

You guys got some rusty pipes.

This water's brown.

That's not from the pipes.

It's from your mouth.

Can you pass me the...

What took you so long?

Foreman: There's
nothing wrong with his ears,

but he's got
blood in his sputum.

Doesn't answer the question.

We weren't avoiding you.

It took us a little time to
think up a diagnostic test

no one's ever thought up before.

Apology accepted.

It could be a tumor
in a salivary gland.

We should get a parotid biopsy.

Aww! That's so cute.

You're fighting
over who's in charge.

Gi bleed's more likely to
explain the nausea and weakness.

Who's in charge?

Foreman: House, as
long as you're not here,

someone has to have the final...

Let me rephrase.

Who's your daddy?
Taub: Let me rephrase.

You have to decide if you're
going to buck up, get out of bed

and do your job, or if you're
going to wallow in self-pity.

Those my only two choices?

Or can I also point out the
self-pity coming from you?

You're just annoyed because
when your relationship ended,

no one gave a crap,
including you.

That is not true
in so many ways.

And chase? Stop
screwing with foreman.

And foreman? No.

Until the telephone
gets UN-invented,

no one in that room needs
more authority than I give them.

And right now, I
give you the authority

to scope his gi tract
and biopsy his parotid,

then you can
pick up the phone...

House, should we be
more worried about you?

Are you on Vicodin?

Because if you are, you probably
shouldn't be ordering procedures.

I am not on Vicodin.

Do the tests.

I have to see a man
about a hurdy gurdy.

You really think
house isn't using Vicodin?

Does it actually worry you?

If he's self-prescribing meds,

that could affect his judgment.

And does that worry you?

Are you being sarcastic?

If his rule-breaking
is affecting his judgment,

then you can step in,
then you can worry.

But if he's just
coming up with ideas

that we haven't thought of
but we should have,

then ourjob is to
shut up and do it.

And what do you see in this guy?

Hmm? What? Who?

Oh. You think I'm
attracted to our patient.

Right. It's against the
rules. So, you wouldn't do it.

He's a macho half-wit.

You have every reason
to not be attracted to him,

which is why I ask the question,

why are you attracted to him?

Stop it. I'm just...

No, no, no, take out the
scope. I don't see any...

No, not the monitor,
look at his eyes.

Foreman:
Sclerae turned yellow. Did x-rays,

looks like there's
a mass in his liver,

but the conductive metal rod
in his ribs is blocking it.

Making it, as they say,

as tough to find as a hooker
who can play the hurdy gurdy.

If you have a point,
can you please...

It's an expression.

Means it's tough,

but apparently it can be done.

Chase: We don't
have any equipment.

You have eyes.

Not that see through stuff.

House: Obviously.

You want us to cut him open?

Only if you want to see
what's wrong with him.

Do you know free bird?

Chase: Do you see what I see?

Taub: No.

Exactly.

More suction.

That's impossible.

I definitely saw
a mass in the x-rays.

It's gone now.

It's a mass,

and then it's not.

You, uh, going to introduce us?

Team, meet Duke.

Anke.

Anke?

How'd I get Duke?

House, how many
prostitutes have you had?

As in, eaten?

Ever? This year?

Slept with since
you've been here.

All but one.

She did my taxes.

On the other hand,

tape worm that burrowed
outside his intestinal...

We would've seen eggs on a
faecal smear or systemic eosinophilia.

Detached cysts?

Couldn't migrate that far
in one hour.

We haven't been
sitting on our hands

just waiting for your
brilliance to kick in.

Okay, so how did you shoot down

intermittently
swollen lymph node?

Martha: That would mean
it's some kind of infection,

which would mean we'd
have to do a spinal tap.

But with his recent skull
fractures, it could be increased icp.

His brain could herniate.

What about
a ventricular puncture?

Sounds good.

You think sticking a needle
directly into his brain

would be less dangerous
than sticking it in his spine?

It's probably a push.

I'm just trying to
get you out of here

because underneath this
sheet, stuff is going on.

Just pick a spot and
stick a needle in it.

You want to drill
through my skull

because of a mass
that's not there?

It was there, which
means something is wrong.

We need to find it.

Is there anybody
you'd like us to call?

Someone that you'd like to be here
with you, maybe a wife or girlfriend?

No, my family's
all back in Oklahoma.

And the guys in the circuit
are in calgary at the next rodeo.

Ah! That's too bad.

It's nice to have somebody
nearby you can talk to who cares.

You okay? Hmm?

I'm just saying,
it's good to have

somebody nearby
to talk to, who cares.

Okay, fine, I like him. So what?

No kidding. I just
can't figure out why.

Neither can I.

Looks clear, nothing
to suggest inflammation.

Something's wrong.

02 sats are plummeting. We
need to intubate. Drop the table.

I can't get it in!

The airway's blocked.
Get the trach kit.

02 are going back up.

What's that smell?

Did he defecate?

Doesn't look like it.

I think it's his feet.

Oh, man.

Oh, it's definitely his feet.

Carnell: Please, don't.

That is a nice bow.

That was a nice door.

Put it on my tab.

What say we take it up a notch?

Yeah, right. Very funny.

You don't trust me?

Woman: I'll do it!

And we have a gamer.

Oh, come on, man.
You can't be serious.

House: Why not?

House: Anything goes wrong,
we just take her to the doctor.

And I'm only eight paces away.

House_. I like you, carnell.

Don't ruin it.

Stinky feet, could point to
diabetes, athlete's foot or gangrene.

House: Pick one. Carnell: No!

None.

None of those cause bloody
sputum or disappearing masses.

No, no, no! No!

Carnell:
You're going to kill her.

House: Don't do that, carnell.

They might get the idea
that I'm shooting at a hooker.

Fungal infection cause
ulceration between the toes.

Bleeding can be from
recurring abscesses

that appear to be
recurring masses.

Symptoms in the head or feet
mean the infection

would have to be in
the heart or the brain.

Taub: I say we start
by looking in the heart

because looking at his brain
with a metal plate is problematic.

So is mri-ing his heart.

He's got a seven centimeter conductive
metal rod holding his rib together.

Ifhhphm1mtwo houseznq

it'll just feel like it's ripping
him in two, which is much better.

We could minimize the damage by injecting
ice-water into his abdominal cavity.

Carnell: No! Please, no!

Oh, god!

Oops.

Got to go.

Call an ambulance!

What do you mean, why!

She's hurt!
She doesn't look hurt.

No, you didn't.

Yes, we did.

You're an ass.

Okay, go get me
general patton's Colt .45.

The one with the two notches.

He's not getting you a gun.

Your friend knows how
to have a good time.

Taub: The mri magnets are
going to heat the metal.

It could get to over 300
degrees in 15 seconds.

Which is why we're injecting
ice-water into your abdominal cavity.

You'll
feel colder than you've ever felt.

And then you'll be hotter...

You'll feel hotter
than you've ever felt.

We'll try to be
as quick as possible.

Why... shut up.

It's interesting.

No, it's not.

It's mundane and simple.

He's obviously

a very blessed specimen, so
from an evolutionary point of view,

he'd produce healthy off-spring.

So my pre-frontal cortex is telling
me I should have sex with him.

Oh. Is that all?

Yes. My rational brain knows
he's a hillbilly and an idiot.

And yet somehow your rational
brain is losing the argument.

Which is interesting.

You were bored.

You must have spent about
two days setting up a fake murder,

and you were bored.

I'm fine.

You're not.

And I'm worried you might
do something even stupider.

Why don't you
move back in with me?

At least until you
get back on track.

What an ego.

You think you're some sort of
emotional paragon, you're my rock.

I'm trying to be a friend.

At least I had the good sense not to
marry every woman I fall into bed with.

Maybe you should
move in with me.

Either way, if you prefer...

I prefer you to stop
talking about this.

House, we haven't even
started talking about this,

except to establish
the fact that you're fine,

which clearly you aren't.

Leave me alone!

We are going to talk about this,

and we're going
to deal with this.

So I have no choice.

Fine.

Unless...

Unless...

Yes!

I do! I do have legs!

I see you didn't factor those
into your brilliant plan.

Lane, can you try to hold still?

I'm trying.

Real hard.

Guy is tough,
I'll give him that.

My pre-frontal cortex
is a little aroused.

Just get the damn picture.

Rib temp is at 158.

I don't have a clear
view of his aorta yet.

This isn't going to work,
we have to stop.

No, you're trying to protect
him instead of trying to save him.

He's smoking!

Literally. You ass!

Five more seconds. No!

Getting a good image
isn't going to mean anything

if he doesn't have a rib cage.

Got it!

The images,

they're normal.

You're going to have to
talk to him eventually.

He needs you.

I love him.

And I know he loves me.

But I just can't...

He needs you in his life.

Even if you're not sleeping
with him, he needs you.

Without you...

You can't go backwards.

I can't fix his problem.

I am his problem.

If the infection is not in
his heart, it's in his brain.

You're in my sun.

Do a ct.

We can't. He has a titanium
plate and a bunch of metal screws.

Get rid of them.

His skull has multiple
hair-line fractures.

Removing the metal plate
will be like

removing half an eggshell
without cracking the rest of the shell.

And not removing the plate will
be like leaving the egg out to rot.

We can't cut off the top of his
head based on a few symptoms

that disappear whenever
we try to test for them.

What if the one symptom
that hasn't disappeared,

was never actually there.

Any delays when he
answers questions?

He doesn't have
partial hearing loss,

he's missing moments.

He reported
having something like

a complex partial seizure
during the bull ride.

He said it hadn't happened
since, but what if he's wrong?

What if the infection
in the brain

is causing it to
happen all the time?

His eeg didn't show
any sign of seizure activity.

I didn't say it was a seizure, I
said it was something like a seizure.

I'm guessing you're about
to tell us we need to find

something like
an eeg to prove...

Nope. Because I already got one.

You want me to sing?

How's singing my Bonnie going
to help you see inside my brain?

House: It won't.

This is going to prove that
we need to cut into your skull.

Which is going to be
kind of dangerous,

so you've got a real incentive
to sing like an angel.

We think you're having mini
black-outs, but your brain compensates.

House: It can't compensate
if there's a pre-set rhythm.

One, two, three.

My Bonnie lies over the ocean

my Bonnie lies

over the sea

my Bonnie

lies over the ocean

oh, bring back my Bonnie to me

see? Told you.

Lane, that wasn't even close.

That was brilliant.

Yeah.

It's understandable.

I hate when you do that.

You respond to what
you think I'm thinking

because you think that
I think like you do.

It's insulting and annoying.

You're scared because
nothing excites you.

Fun doesn't excite you.

Puzzles don't excite you.

What's left?

And I was saying, you're right.

You're upset, you're depressed.

Everything's going to taste
a little worse right now,

but it'll pass.

It's understandable.

You're scared because
you think I'm falling apart,

and you're trying to convince
yourself that you're overreacting.

Keeps ringing.

Yeah.

House, there's no infection
in this guy's brain.

Ct's clean.

Well, that sucks.

Now we're going to
have to blow up his heart.

We're not blowing up his heart
because we've ruled out his heart.

Mri and transesophageal echo
reveal no swelling, no masses,

no vegetation,
no sign of anything.

Because we're
looking the wrong way.

There's an imperfection.

How do you find where?

I don't know, I'd get
a magnifying glass...

You suck.

Feel free to interpret
that both ways.

You suck on the straw,
see where the drink leaks.

Chase: So you're saying
we put pressure on his aorta

until it rips open?

You do realize
the downside of that?

If we don't rip it, the
damage from the infection will.

Probably not when he's got
his chest open in an or

where it can be repaired
inside the 60 seconds

it'll take him
to bleed to death.

It's a ridiculous idea,
it won't work.

House: If you don't mind,

I have to go get this guy's
approval to rip his heart open.

Hey.

We think you have
a bartonella infection,

which caused a mycotic
aneurysm in your aortic wall.

We need to find it, which means
we need to blow up your heart.

And yes, I'm as
serious as a heart attack.

We're going to increase
your blood pressure

until the weak spot in
your aortic wall explodes.

Hopefully we'll be able to fix
it before you bleed to death.

Any questions?

Really?

You don't even want to know if
you'll be able to go back to bull riding?

I assume no.

I mean, you've already
cracked open my skull,

and now you're going to
blow up my heart.

Ithoughtyouloved
those eight seconds.

I do.

And now you're telling me

that I got to give them up.

I can always find
something else to love.

Cuddy: House.

We need to talk.

You didn't expect me to say yes

to rupturing his aorta, did you?

Since I didn't ask, I wasn't
expecting you to say anything at all.

You have no reason to believe
this will save his life.

Really?

No reason. None at all.

I'm just planning on cracking
open his chest, blowing up his heart,

what, to pad his bill?

Or you think that since you
broke my heart I want to break his?

I don't know.

I think maybe you're looking
for something that can excite you,

fill a void.

And it's affecting
your judgment.

You're right, I am.

But my damaged, depressed,
drug-addled judgment

is still better than yours or
any other doctor in this hospital.

And my team is going to do
this procedure and save his life.

So, you can either have
security arrest me and my team,

or you can get
the hell out of my way.

And she caves.

Chase: Rib spreader in place.

Heart looks good.

Aorta is exposed.

I take it you ratted
me out to cuddy?

I think your
judgment is compromised.

No, you don't.

Come on, I got a
squash game at 2:00.

Let's give this cowboy a ride.

Foreman: If I inject more,
there won't be any room

for the blood to go through
the rest of his body.

You're right.

Just make damn sure we don't damage
his toes while we blow up his heart.

Taub: No bubbles,
no bruising, no gaps.

It's not working.

Yes, it is.

I was wrong.

Not yet.

Chase: Let's switch him
over to bypass for debridement.

Come on, we don't
have much time.

Slow the heart down.

Damn.

Taub: You can't clamp
the aorta at this pressure,

even if we can see
through all the blood.

Chase: Do it anyway. We
need suction and more sponges.

Foreman: The leak is too fast.

Chase: No, it's not,
we can fix this.

It worked.

House, it worked!

I heard you.

I'm awake, so I guess it worked.

As long as you don't get
your heart rate too high.

You probably shouldn't
have sex for a while.

I'll keep that in mind.

Want to hang out,
see your ranch some time?

That'd probably be inappropriate

because I'm your doctor,
and everything.

Good luck with everything.

Double scotch,

doubled.

Blended, single
malt, any preference?

Yeah, sorry about the noise.
I guess their team won.

Although, I got to tell you,

sometimes I wish I could still act
like that, you know? Just let loose?

Iguessifs a little easier, though,
when you got no troubles.

Parents still paying your bills.

You got your whole life
ahead of you.

Cannonball!

What the hell are you doing?

What do you do when you win?

All: Party!

What do you do when you lose?

All: Party harder!