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Pants Afire

It is the wee hours of the morning, and Wilson is awake to receive the depressing call that his patient died. House is about to roll over back to sleep when all those hours spent in group therapy kick in, and he sits up to tell Wilson that, under the circumstances, it was for the best. See? Their friendship is totally mutual. Wilson changes the subject, because sharing feelings with House is awkward, if not just plain masochistic, so he asks House how his night went. House smirks that they've moved onto a new phase in their relationship, the one where he tells Cuddy he has always liked her and she walks off the dance floor, making him look like even more of an asshole for standing around looking like he just walked out of Colonial Williamsburg. House changes the subject back to Wilson. If I wanted this much back and forth I'd be watching the ping pong championships on ESPN. House thinks it's odd that Wilson's patient would die this weekend. Did he somehow know it would happen while he was away? Um, I know House is a brilliant diagnostician and all, but where did that come from? Wilson doesn't answer and House grabs Wilson's laptop, flips it open and reads his paper. It's on euthanasia. And he's not talking about using it on dogs. (In the inimitable words of Bob Barker, spay and neuter your pets, kids!) House thinks Wilson is due for a quick trip down to the old nut house. He knows a nice one! But Wilson doesn't want to hear it. Although if House thinks you're crossing a line, it might be a good time to reconsider. He euthanized his patient, and he doesn't want to talk about it.

Back at Princeton-Plainsboro, the crack team are going through the hotel's security files. As much as no one likes to see a sick kid, based on my expertise garnered from watching at least four episodes of Las Vegas, hotels don't give up their security tapes very easily, and wouldn't they at least be in the room? But no, it is just all three team members in their civvies, with nary a white coat in sight to give them a soup├žon of authority to explain why the hotel would give them the tapes. And what happens if the girl codes while they're all standing around reviewing the tape, huh? They're trying to figure out if the girl really went for ice or went and licked arsenic-lined wallpaper or something. They see her in the elevator and she has the author's journal in her hands. Ooh, it's his fault! Sic 'im!

Wilson is so depressed he's taking a long walk off a short pier. Luckily, House finds him before he can go any further. Wilson swears he's not insane for publicly talking about playing Dr. Kevorkian with his patients. Doctors are rarely indicted! Which is certainly a ringing endorsement. But seriously, Wilson, if House thinks something is a bad idea, you may want to listen. Wilson feels that he is firmly on the moral high ground here and truly believes that someone besides teabaggers and Sarah Palin needs to talk about how the dying are treated in this country. House agrees, but doesn't think Wilson should jeopardize his practice by taking a stand. Think about the cancer patients, Wilson! The cancer patients! Wilson swears he just wants to do what he believes in, consequences be damned. House demands, "Who taught you how to do this stuff?!" Wilson retorts, "I learned it by watching you!"

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