Jackson's just heard the good news, and now he wants to know if he's a boy or a girl. "Some of your cells are male and some are female," Dad non-explains. "I'm a freak!" Jackson says. Dad says no, but the fact is that they didn't have another child after Jackson -- could it be because they were afraid this would happen again? Hmmmm? Jackson realizes that his parents have been lying to him for his entire life. "We were just trying to protect you," Mom says. "Leave me alone," Jackson says. He kicks them out of his room as a lone tear falls down his cheek. That went well.
House is trying to hide from everyone by sitting in a bathroom stall with his feet up. Ew. I'd rather be located than hide by sitting on a public toilet seat. Cuddy finds him anyway, and asks if he's breathing. He says he isn't, but that's only because the bathroom smells like shit. Cuddy cuts right to the chase: she knows about the methadone. House says it's legal and he has a prescription. Cuddy says if the doctor who wrote it knew about House's complete and total inability to take drugs safely, he wouldn't have prescribed it. House plays the "I'm in pain" card, but it's not going to work this time. Cuddy reminds House that methadone is deadly serious. House says it's none of her business. Ooh, but the fact that he died on the clock kind of makes it Cuddy's business, and she won't let him work at PPTH as long as he's on methadone. House must have figured he'd be faced with this choice, as he exits the bathroom stall and says he'll send someone to get his things. Yeah, who? Wilson? Doubt it. Cuddy can't believe that House is calling her bluff. "You're choosing methadone over this job?" she says, shocked. "I'm choosing lack of pain over this job," House says. Well, lack of pain isn't going to be all that useful if you're dead, House. If the pain is bad enough that he'd rather quit PPTH and take a drug that could kill him than suffer through it, why doesn't he just CUT THE LEG OFF??? Then the pain would be gone, he'd keep his PPTH job, and he wouldn't need any methadone at all!
Hadley hangs out with Jackson. She urges him to talk to his parents again. He's not so keen on that, surprise, surprise. Hadley pulls up a chair. Jackson decides to talk to her about a guy on his basketball team he really likes. Now he's not sure if he likes Will or like likes Will. "Maybe I'm supposed to, because I'm really a girl," he says. Hadley decides against bringing up homosexuality and asks Jackson if he "feels" like a girl. "I like dancing more than basketball," he says. Hadley gets close and says she knows it's hard right now, but at least Jackson doesn't have to hide anymore. She quotes the poem and triumphantly whips it out of her coat pocket. "No matter how bad things get, killing yourself is never the answer," she says in her serious whisper. Jackson looks confused as he looks over the poem. Then: "this was an English assignment. We were supposed to write a poem in the style of Sylvia Plath." OOPS! Well, this is why you should always write your name on your paper. Otherwise, some snoopy doctor will find it and not realize it's a homework assignment and ruin your life. Jackson says he's sad sometimes, but he isn't suicidal. Or at least, he wasn't. Hadley looks like she wants to stick her head in an oven right about now, but Jackson feels even worse, as he suddenly barfs blood.