lit_luminary | "DDX, With Feeling" (Act Two).

Act II

[Scene: WILSON’S office. WILSON is at his desk with a cup of coffee and a stack of paperwork. He’s just about to start on it when HOUSE bursts in through the balcony door.]

WILSON: And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company (consults his watch) a full two hours before you usually come in?

HOUSE (holds up the Vicodin bottle, shakes it to emphasize it is empty, and speaks with false brightness): Out of my happy pills. Need a scrip.

WILSON (dryly): Darn, and here I was hoping we were going to have another cheerful duet.

HOUSE (incredulous, then pained): That’s still going on?

WILSON: Afraid so. If you’d been half an hour earlier, you’d have caught your minions in three-part harmony.

HOUSE: And as many possibilities for humiliation as that undoubtedly had, you’re missing the point: I’m still in pain here. More, actually, since I found out we’re still on this hellish journey through Musicville. (Crosses to WILSON’S desk, picks up his prescription pad, shoves it at him.) Write.

WILSON (sighs, picks up a pen): One of these days, you’re going to destroy your liver with all the acetaminophen you keep inflicting on it—and you just said yourself that your pain was aggravated by the sing—

HOUSE (pointedly): What was that I sang about you yesterday? ‘When I least want a lecture—’

WILSON: All right, all right… (He begins to write as mellow guitar chords sound in the room, singing softly as he does so. Curiously, HOUSE doesn’t seem to hear.)

[Song: Questions (to the tune of “Standing.”)]

WILSON:
How often have you made this demand?
How often have I played the willing hand?
And how many times have I longed to understand?
Oh, House…

Would it kill you to in me once confide
What’s there beyond the walls ‘hind which you hide?
I have stood stalwart, always at your side,
And yet…

I still find it agonizing, watching your steel-strong will,
Which bows to no man living, kowtowing for a pill:
A sacrifice
That reaps such terrible ill—
There is no higher price.

If I could only see where lines divide:
Neuropathic, versus emotion’s side.
You say that you’re unchanged; I know that you have lied
(Or tried).

And now I am sitting, writing—and does it hurt or heal?
It’s not my call to make: I can’t know what you feel—
Wish I could make
A wish and make it real:
Just a wish that you would heal…
How I wish that you could heal.

[End song.]

HOUSE (takes the scrip, consults the clock): What just happened?

WILSON: I wrote—

HOUSE (breaking in): You pick up the pen, I’m unaware of two minutes passing, next thing I know, you’re handing me a scrip. What happened in the two minutes?

WILSON (sighs, puts the pen down, leans back in his chair): I sang. About my concern for you, and how I hate knowing you’re dependent on those damned pills. (Pause.) Every time I write a scrip—I may be stopping your pain, but I’m also helping you do damage.

HOUSE (narrows his eyes, gestures sharply at his right thigh, speaks deliberately): The damage is my leg, not the pills. I spent most of the night dwelling on it—in song, by the way, just to add to the suffering—and I am not discussing—

(On cue, HOUSE is interrupted by a piano-and-strings combination that makes WILSON wince. HOUSE attempts to escape the inevitable duet, but finds himself frozen in place in front of WILSON’S desk.)

[Song: Answers/Caught in His Thrall (Reprise) (to the tune of “Under Your Spell/Standing (Reprise).”)]

WILSON:
Caught up in your thrall…
House, why won’t you see
I can’t sign your death decree?
I will not watch you fall…
Know you don’t agree,
But you mean too much to me
And I cannot just—

HOUSE:
Just shut up; you don’t understand;
It’s ‘cause I trust you that I can demand
Your helping hand—

WILSON/HOUSE:
So please confide the knowledge/I cannot trust
I need to understand:/ You to leave this alone
What lines divide/I’m not having it discussed
Your damn pain?/You will adjust; I am not fussed
Do pills keep it all banned?/So do what you must—

BOTH:
Just understand…
Just understand…
Just understand…
Just under—
Stand…

[End song.]

(Awkward silence stretches for several seconds; neither HOUSE nor WILSON moves. Then HOUSE turns and limps out, shutting WILSON’S door behind him with a bang.)

WILSON (mutters to self): Well, that went well. (Considers the coffee cup, reaches for it, then stops, decides coffee is the last thing he needs. Pauses, assures himself:) This insanity will end, and we’ll agree that whole exchange never happened… (Adds bitterly:) Even if the issues behind it stay right there until he kills himself. (This fails to make him feel better. He sighs, mutters:) Best damn diagnostician in the country—the world, maybe—and his own health just has to be the blind spot.

(WILSON glares balefully the abandoned prescription pad, then shoves it into a drawer, which he slams shut.)

[End scene.]

(Cut to Diagnostics. HOUSE is standing in front of the whiteboard, his foul mood all but palpable; the FELLOWS—visibly tired and nursing cups of coffee—are seated at the table.)

HOUSE: Did you work out what was wrong with the patient, or do I have to go see (pauses, checks the file) him?

CAMERON: Atypical presentation of a bacterial infection. He’s on broad-spectrum antibiotics and should be fine. (Pauses, gives HOUSE an appraising look.) Are you—

HOUSE (deliberately): One caring word out of you and you’re fired.

(CAMERON closes her mouth; CHASE and FOREMAN exchange a glance, silently agreeing the best course of action at present is to keep their heads down.)

(Cut back to WILSON’S office. He’s started the paperwork, and is about a third of the way through it when the opening bars of a somber piano melody begin to play.)

[Song: Nearing the Finish (to the tune of “Walk Through the Fire.”)]

WILSON:
So the final movement begins:
Melancholy piano plays.
I just don’t know
The outcome of the show.
Can Greg House change his ways?

Another day, another song,
Another step made in the dance.
But do I dare
To tell him how I care?
How can I take the chance?

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained;
And every rule can bend.
Some things just must be explained
Before the—

(Change to lower register, abrupt cut to HOUSE, brooding in one of the clinic’s empty exam rooms—where, he knows, no one is going to look.)

HOUSE:
I’ve known his secret all along—
He’s easy as a book to read.
But if I felt…
After the wounds she dealt
Which way would I proceed?

Is it a risk too great to take?
For every chance, a price incurred.
Better not make, fatal mistake
Wait for the—

(Abrupt cut to CUDDY, in her office with the file, still in her capacity as Chorus.)

CUDDY:
As we come down to the wire
Will this duo face the fire?
Is it a gamble either can take?
House is known for insane chances
But well, the case of romance is
Personal: there’s so much more at stake.

A question posed,
The answer soon to be disclosed
As we draw nearer the finish.

(Cut back to HOUSE in the clinic. When WILSON begins to sing, the screen splits to show him in his office.)

HOUSE/WILSON:
The music’s gone on long enough;
The time draws near to make a choice:/But do I dare
Avoid more pain
But forfeit chance of gain?/To tell him how I care?
Or give the silence voice?

(Cut back to Diagnostics and the FELLOWS. CHASE sings the main melody with FOREMAN in counterpoint; CAMERON contributes the descant.)

CHASE/FOREMAN:
Madness is intensifying/House’s dark mood affects us all:

CAMERON (re. HOUSE):
Says he’s okay but he’s lying.

CHASE/FOREMAN/(CAMERON):
Since the music first began to play./He looks like he’s ready to kill./(Can’t stand any concern)
Call it magic or delusion;/He’ll work it out/(Not any concern.)
Either way, all the confusion/’Cause that’s what he’s about,
Has to be resolved sometime today./But first might take a fall.

(Cut back to HOUSE in the clinic; screen splits to show WILSON, still in his office, when he takes up the counterpoint.)

HOUSE/WILSON:
Just play the part—
Why admit that I have a heart?/All rules can be bent…

(Abrupt cut to CUDDY, once more. She reads the file as she sings.)

CUDDY:
Now we are nearing the finish:
Let’s see what rules can bend,
What barriers can diminish
Before the end…
‘Fore the end…
‘Fore the end—
‘Fore the end!

[End song.]

(Cut back to HOUSE, apparently finished brooding. Having earlier filled the prescription he got from WILSON, he dry-swallows a Vicodin.)

HOUSE: Patient saved, clinic a moot point, and that last song wasn’t a duet. (Smiles smugly, turns toward the door.) And since I’m getting out of here while I can, the next one won’t be, either. (Leaves the exam room, limps briskly out of the clinic, pocketing a cherry lollipop on the way out. Fade out.)

[End scene.]

On to the finale...