Sometime later, a much healthier-looking Boyd comes to House's office to give him a father-ordered apology. House asks Boyd whether he still hears those voices, and Boyd answers: "You're lucky. You go through life with a certainty that what you're doing is right. I know how comforting that is. Good luck." I guess you don't need faith in God and religion to have something you can believe in.
The Whiteboard reads God 3, House 2. Chase is hanging out there, and House asks him for his final tying point. "You knew it was me?" Chase asks. "Who else?" says House. He's got a point there. Next time you try something like that, Chase, you might want to make sure you work in a bigger office with more suspects. And that no one knows about your seminary-school past. Chase gives House the point, but House still wants more: he thinks one of God's points should be knocked off, since Grace wasn't cured after all. Chase isn't so quick to dismiss it, saying that the odds of Boyd's having the kind of disease that would temporarily fight Grace's specific cancer and them having the kind of contact that could transfer it are pretty slim. House calls this a lottery. Chase says that what some people consider a lottery, others consider a miracle. That's a pretty shitty miracle, then, if it only gave Grace a few more months to live. And she has to spend those months with freaking herpes! Wilson pokes his head in the door, and tells them that "it is possible to believe in something and still fail to live up to it." He is so wise. Except, you know, when he's fucking his patients. The score will remain a tie.
Wilson and House walk down the hall. Wilson tells House that Grace didn't crash and burn from disappointment, after all, and, instead, is happy about the few extra months her herpes has given her, and is planning to take that trip to Florence. Alone, it seems. Wilson is moving out and, as House really seems to hope, back into House's place. But Wilson says he doesn't think that's such a great idea. They're still friends, though.