A fifteen year-old faith healer comes to PPTH with stomach cramps that quickly progress to a fever and delirium. During one of his less lucid moments, he "heals" one of Wilson's terminal cancer patients. The kid believes the God will also cure the tuberous sclerosis the House team find making small tumors in his brain and causing the auditory hallucinations he thinks are God talking to him. They can't explain how those hallucinations tell the kid some of their private personal information, though, which vexes House. He doesn't like God knowing that he won't invite Wilson to his weekly poker games...until, during one of those games, he figures out that Wilson moved out of his apartment and into the home of his terminal patient. Because he's sleeping with her. And it was she, not God, who told the kid about House's poker game, after Wilson told her about it. House gets back at her and her loose lips, though, by figuring out that her cancer wasn't healed after all -- the kid simply gave her a virus that happens to attack cancer cells, temporarily shrinking the tumor and giving her a few extra months to live. And what virus is this? Why, it's some crazy case of the herpes, of course, given to the kid, when he defied God's words and had premarital sex. It was the herpes and not the tuberous sclerosis that were making him sick, and the team cures him of this, and House and God end their battle in a tie.
After a Touch Of Evil-style long take through the darkened streets of Fox's New York City backlot, we enter a church filled with singing and cheering parishioners. They're guided by a Frankie Muniz-looking kid (although this kid is, of course, much better looking than Frankie Muniz because...you know, anyone is), who tells them a Bible story about a guy who felt sick and went to a doctor instead of God. Not that there's anything wrong with that, the kid is quick to point out, before he can get sued faster than that infomercial guy who tried to say his calcium supplements cured cancer, but doctors tend to be blinded by the fact that, without God, nothing is possible. With that, the kid places his hand on the forehead of an older woman who's leaning against her walker. In what is probably an intentionally hilarious shot, two blind guys in the corner look around cluelessly. After waiting the allotted time for God to move through his hand into the woman's forehead to magically heal her, the kid takes Agnes's walker away, and tells her to have faith that her leg problems have been cured. He gets the crowd revved up to cheer for Agnes, and she takes a few tentative steps forward. She's cured! The kid, however, is having problems of his own. As he lifts his arms up to God, the Magic School Bus Cam goes flying into his gut, where something stretches and cracks. The kid responds to this by doubling over and falling to the floor in pain. His father runs up, and the kid asks him to get a doctor. I guess you don't need Jesus when you've got a good health insurance plan.
House strolls into work looking extremely cool in his motorcycle jacket and the sunglasses. Wilson confronts him about a DVD player he left at House's place when he moved out to parts unknown between the last episode and this one, which House has yet again failed to bring to work with him. That's no problem for Wilson, though, since he can just come pick it up...Thursday night, perhaps? But House would rather bring the DVD player in tomorrow, as Wilson guesses that Thursday night is House's poker night, and that Wilson is not invited to it no matter how much he wants to be. And he really, really wants to be. After watching House's maverick poker skills a few weeks ago, I wouldn't be so eager to play against him, but I'm one of those people who doesn't like losing money.
Someone stupid has assigned Foreman and Cameron to work together in the ER. They check out our pre-credits kid and amazingly do their job, rather than continuing last week's bickering over the article. Also amazingly, I now realize where I recognize this kid from: he played Ruthie's weirdo boyfriend on 7th Heaven! We were supposed to think he was straight even after he did a song and dance number with the entire high school's baseball team. I'm pleased to report that he's much better in this role. I guess that being on a show with actual quality makes you a better performer. Cameron sticks the kid with a needle, and he smiles at her and thanks her for her painless phlebotomy skills. Cameron is happy finally to be appreciated by someone, until the kid -- named Boyd, by the way -- starts in with the God talk. His father finally speaks up to say that God has been talking to Boyd since he was ten years old. Foreman and Cameron are dubious, to say the least -- until Boyd tells them that God told him that he would meet a female healer who is "harboring vengeful thoughts about a man she works with." Boyd's eyes flicker in Foreman's direction, and Cameron and Foreman stand there looking fairly impressed. Boyd reminds Cameron that it's "God's job" to have vengeful thoughts, not hers, which is just what I want out of my all-powerful overseer -- someone who's into petty revenge. "I'll keep that in mind," Cameron assures Boyd in order to shut him up. Boyd warmly thanks them for their time. He sure is charming. Unlike some people.
Speak of the devil, we cut to House, whose reaction to the news that their latest patient has conversation time with the Almighty is, predictably, intense disbelief. Chase assures House that Boyd isn't crazy; he's just crazy about God. And suffering from low sodium. Other than that, they can't find anything wrong with him. House brings up Chase's religious past, pointing out that even though Chase was really into God, God never spoke to him, so Boyd is either a mental case or a scam artist. Cameron and Foreman both have sparkling reviews of Boyd, Foreman gleefully pointing out that Boyd told Cameron that God wants her to stop being angry at him over the article. I have a feeling that was more God wanting Cameron to shut the fuck up about it than wanting to restore unity to the House staff. Even God's patience has limits. House still isn't convinced, noting that Foreman and Cameron have very obvious body language going on that would tell anyone who was looking for it that they're not on the best of terms. House drops his yo-yo in favor of seeing the patient for himself, figuring that since God talks to Boyd, House really should, too.
House enters Boyd's domain, and starts in with the jokes, asking Boyd whether he's okay with being called a "faith healer," or if he'd prefer something like "divine health manager." "I'm okay with 'faith healer,' Dr. House," Boyd replies. But his knowledge of House's name wasn't through divine intervention -- as Boyd reports, the nurses talk about House quite often. House says it's because he keeps a sock in his pants, but I'll bet it's more along the lines of Evil Nurse Brenda (who hasn't been seen nearly enough this season) plotting his slow and painful death, and the rest of the staff trying to urge her on without getting themselves implicated as accessories to the crime. House accuses Boyd of mistaking faith for ignorance and blind trust, but Boyd counters that he loves God, and therefore, he trusts him and has faith in him: "You can't love somebody and not trust him." I guess that depends on whether or not she'd cut off your leg while you were in a coma. House says that he'd rather let people and deities earn his trust. So far, it would seem that no one has actually been able to achieve this goal.
House asks Boyd if he's doing drugs, and Boyd denies it, saying that he only takes aspirin every once in a while when he has a headache. As Boyd's dad wanders in with a bottle of water, House asks Boyd how hospitals and aspirins are okay with him, but he expects his followers to forego medical care in favor of prayer. Boyd replies that believing in germs and the Lord are not mutually exclusive for him. He takes a sip from his water bottle, and House notices that Boyd's water bottle isn't brand-new, but refilled. House asks Boyd how much water he drinks, and Boyd's father answers that Boyd likes to stay hydrated, so he drinks a hell of a lot of it, between three and four water bottles every hour. Apparently, having to pee all the time is very godly.
Meanwhile, over at the rarely- seen Oncology wing, Wilson is doing the even more rarely- seen activity of his job. He tells his young female patient that the only solution he has to her problems is to up her pain medication. She protests: "We both know the only reason I'm talking lucidly now is because I did not take my full dose this morning." Despite Wilson's best efforts, the woman says, her fight is over. Wilson's suggestion for terminal cancer patient care is that she see Florence like she's always wanted, but she says that going there in her condition wouldn't exactly be a dream vacation. Wilson gets nice and close to her, and says that he's sure they can find the right combination of pain medication for her that will allow her head to be clear so that she can at least enjoy the last days of her life. With that, House comes knocking at the door, and Wilson has to excuse himself.
Wilson walks out to the balcony, and asks House to wait until his appointment is over. "Is she dying?" House asks. "Yeah," Wilson responds. "Before the end of this consult?" House asks, because he always has to win. Wilson is exasperated, but he still stays outside to talk to House about Boyd. House is more concerned about Boyd's expert ability to figure people out based on the way they act and not because God tells him, rather than Boyd's current medical condition. Wilson doesn't really see how House and Boyd are all that different, except for the fact that people seem to really like Boyd and no one likes House. Wilson tells House to cut to the chase about Boyd's medical info so that he can go back to his patient, and House says that Boyd's cramps and low sodium levels can be explained away by his massive water intake. He didn't call Wilson out to talk about Boyd's health problems, but to rant that people are ignorant, weak, and stupid for needing religion in their lives. Wilson goes back to his patient while House screams at the citizens of the world to stop living in their holes.
Of course, we're only fifteen minutes into the show, so Boyd isn't cured yet. He slowly walks out of his hospital room to serenade the hallway with his rendition of "Go Tell It On The Mountain" -- the hallucinating version. He stops at the pretty waterfall installation and starts really projecting, until someone finally tries to help the poor delusional kid out. Chase puts a hand on Boyd's shoulder and calls out his name, trying to snap him out of it, but succeeding only in stopping the singing and getting Boyd to turn and start walking back to his room. Boyd-vision is blurry, except for one person who stands out clearly -- Wilson's patient. Boyd walks up to her, takes her hand, and tells her that God has heard all of the prayers she thought he was ignoring, and doesn't want her to be afraid. With that, Boyd puts his hand on her forehead and smears it down the side of her face. Wilson comes out of his office, sees the scene, and runs over to yell at Chase for letting his weird patient hassle Wilson's dying one. Incidentally, that scene was much better than anything I saw in 7th Heaven's musical episode.
Back in the meeting room, no one's sure if Boyd had some kind of psychotic episode or was just being his usual God-loving, faith-healing self, which House is quick to point out really illustrates how similar insanity and religious faith can be. Chase ignores this, and says that Boyd was obviously disoriented, unaware of his surroundings, and having some kind of seizure. Cameron suggests Wilson's disease, and Foreman and Chase come up with tuberous sclerosis. It's only the second season and we're already repeating diagnosis suggestions so often that I can recognize them. While House is making another crack about what would be a more effective diagnostic tool -- doing an MRI or asking God -- Wilson marches into the room, absolutely livid that one of House's nutcase patients approached his cancer girl...especially since she now claims to be feeling better. Before, Wilson says, she was "dealing with her illness," and now she's in denial and has false expectations that are sure to crash and leave her feeling worse than ever. And Wilson practically starts crying that he's going to be the one who has to deal with that, not House. Hey, does Wilson seem especially close to this patient to you guys? Even the Cottages are shocked at Wilson's outburst, using it as an excuse to stand around gawking instead of getting their work done.
Boyd had better start praying, because he has an appointment with MRI of DOOM! As Chase prepares Boyd for it, he asks him about his faith-healing, saying that he wants to believe that Boyd can really cure people. Really? Because if I had just spent eight years of my life training to be a doctor, I'd be kind of pissed to know that some random teenager had the same healing abilities I worked so hard for. Boyd reads between the lines of Chase's question and figures that Chase may want to believe in him, but that he really doesn't: "Why do you always do things you don't wanna do?" I guess God told Boyd what a pussy Chase is.
Once again, someone has put Cameron and Foreman in a small space together. As they work the MRI booth, Foreman tells Cameron that God would probably want her to taketh the divining rod out of the well-shaped ass he gave her and climb Mount Sinai to get over herself. Cameron responds that she doesn't believe in a traditional God, but that even if one did exist, she doubts he'd really care about the things lodged inside her ass. And yet, some people believe that God is against gay sex. Foreman wants to know more about Cameron's take on religion, but she snits that since they're just colleagues and not friends, he doesn't get to have a casual conversation with her ever again. That doesn't like much of a punishment to me. In fact, I would consider it a reward.
House returns to the meeting room to find an informal tally on the Whiteboard. It pits House against God, God winning 2 to 1, much to House's chagrin. House is even more annoyed when Boyd wanders in, sees the scoreboard, and comments that "his guy" is winning. He asks House how God got the points, and House says that whoever put the tally up was impressed by Boyd's trick with Foreman and Cameron. The second point, Boyd guesses, is because Grace, Wilson's patient and Boyd's newest frequent bedside visitor, has been feeling better since Boyd put his hand on her face. House accuses Boyd of "messing" with people, just like he's trying to mess with House now. But Boyd brightly says that all he likes to do is see the smiles on his people's faces when he lifts their burdens. House points out that Boyd makes sure to be in another state lifting someone else's burdens by the time his subjects' endorphins wear off and their pain starts to come back. "That doesn't happen," Boyd says stubbornly. And he knows this because God told him, not because he's ever...you know, actually checked or gotten any feedback about it. You'd think someone would have dropped Boyd a line angrily telling him off for making him think he was cured when he wasn't, but I guess not. House doesn't appreciate that their "fun" little back-and-forth has been disrupted by Boyd's invoking the G-word, and tells him so. Boyd gets a determined and slightly pissed-off look on his face before telling House that God has told him about the doctor and how House likes to be alone. House doesn't put much stock in that, figuring that Boyd's just giving out one of those non-specific pearls of wisdom that sounds good, but could apply to almost anyone: "time, tell God to be more specific." "God wants you to invite Dr. Wilson to your poker game," Boyd says. OH! What what! That one really gets House's attention, and his head snaps up just in time to see Boyd smile triumphantly and walk away. Now House has to figure out what's wrong with Boyd AND how he found out about his poker-game invitation issues!
House's first stop on his second mission is the cafeteria, where he lectures Wilson not to talk to Boyd about their weekly poker games. Wilson claims to have no idea what House is talking about. House says that either Wilson told Boyd about the poker thing, or House will have to start going to church on Sunday, which would conflict with his bowling league matches. Surprisingly, Wilson does not immediately try to score an invitation to join House's bowling league. He just says he's never spoken to Boyd about poker or anything else.
The MRI results are back, and they confirm tuberous sclerosis. Foreman says that they can remove Boyd's cortical tumor through surgery and cure him of everything -- including, House says, his frequent chats with God. That might be a problem.
Wilson and Grace stroll through the hospital, Grace definitely looking much healthier than she did the last time we saw her. Wilson tries to convince her that miracles are very rare, but Grace is a glass-is-a-millimeter-full kind of lady and only takes that to mean that miracles can happen. She tells Wilson that every day that passes only means that she has that little time left in her life. These days, when she sees a trailer for a movie, she has to wonder if she'll even be alive when it comes out. And...yeah, that's pretty heavy. So the possibility, however slim, of being able to actually make plans for a year from now is pretty appealing to her. Plus, she'll be able to see Spider-Man 3! Wilson tells her not to do this to herself, because she'll just "crash so hard." He challenges her to let him take new images of her liver, so that he can prove to her that she isn't getting better. I'm sure her insurance company will be happy to pay for something so necessary as some guy trying to make a point.
Over in Boyd's room, Foreman and Chase explain tuberous sclerosis to Boyd and his father. Dad balks at the prospect of brain surgery, but Foreman assures him that it's a simple operation that will solve all of Boyd's problems, including those auditory hallucinations. After the surgery, they tell him, "[his] son should be a perfectly normal fifteen-year-old boy." Now it's Boyd's turn to balk: "I'm not normal." Hey, if I had the option of believing that either God thought I was awesome enough to talk to exclusively or that I had some crappy brain tumor, I guess I'd choose the latter, too. Just like Grace would rather believe that her terminal cancer has decided to go away on its own rather than that her endorphins are just creating a temporary feeling of health and happiness.
Boyd has refused to have his brain surgery, and now House needs Wilson to talk to him, because House figures that Wilson is so good at telling people bad news that he'll be able to convince Boyd to do the "right" thing. Wilson agrees to help -- if House invites him to his poker game. Isn't it interesting how House has never used Wilson to convince his patients to stop refusing treatment all those times when it didn't help the plot along?
Wilson, followed by House, enters Boyd's room. Wilson introduces himself, and Boyd, carefully straddling the line between "serene" and "smug," says that he knew they would send someone else to him. "God has a big mouth," House mutters. Boyd tells Wilson that God put the tumors in his brain for a reason, so he's not getting rid of them. And yet, when God gave him stomach cramps, Boyd was all too happy to seek medical attention to make them go away, so I don't see how this is all that different, except that the stomach cramps hurt and were annoying and the brain tumors have earned Boyd money and acclaim from people all over the country. House is even more cynical than I am, standing in the corner and muttering that Boyd seems to think everyone else needs to have faith in God, while Boyd gets to have what he thinks is a direct line to him. He has a point, but Wilson doesn't think this is really the right place or time for it to be made, and tells House to hush. Dad pipes up to say that he agrees with Boyd and is happy to let God do whatever he needs to, even if that means that Boyd dies tomorrow. It's a good thing that Boyd believes in his heavenly father, because he sure doesn't have much in the way of an earthly one. Go cure your dad up a backbone, Boyd.
Wilson takes a completely different approach to the situation than House did, saying that if Boyd were really a saint God chose to speak to, he would have humility like a saint and would, therefore, not believe himself to be so special and would just have the surgery like any other person would.
And just like that, Wilson has convinced Boyd to have the surgery, and gets a coveted poker-game invitation.
House is spending an evening playing his piano when there's a knock at his door. Who else could it be but Wilson -- but it's not poker night yet, much to the dismay of all those Wilson/House shipper fans, who were probably hoping that House's poker game was just a ruse to lure Wilson to his apartment for a night of romance. In fact, it's Wilson who chose to come to House. In his hand are the images he took of Grace's cancerous liver, which Wilson is amazed to report isn't looking quite so cancerous anymore. The tumor shrank. "Don't tell my patient" is all House has to say. Well, he may have said more after that, but the commercial break cut him off.
Uh...can someone tell me what the hell Beverly Crusher is doing stuck in a Microsoft commercial? Even Tasha Yar has more pride than that.
House is ordering the Cottages to figure out how Grace's tumor shrank in purely medical and not godly terms, when he sees Grace chatting with Boyd. Chase says that they couldn't exactly keep them apart the way House wanted them to, since Boyd and Grace are now friends. Cuddy walks through the scene to inform everyone that Boyd's father withdrew permission to do the surgery, and to look suitably impressed at the fact that Grace's tumor shrank. Thank you for your contribution, Cuddy. See you week. Maybe.
House leaves Chase with orders to figure out what's happening to Grace. Even though Boyd is their patient, they can only help him by proving that Grace is still a goner. Well, that should be fun for all involved. Especially Grace.
God now has three points to House's two on the Whiteboard O'Judgment Day. The Cottages go over reasons Grace is getting better: maybe there was an error in her earlier liver-tumor images that made the tumor look bigger than it actually was, or the radiation treatments started working six months after they stopped doing them. Or maybe, Chase says, "remissions just happen." Foreman scoffs disgustedly. He doubts House will accept that as an answer.
So while Cameron and Foreman check Grace's files in the relative safety of PPTH, Chase gets to break into her home with a Geiger counter to look for any unknown sources of radiation that could have given her a surprise chemo treatment.
As for House, he's in the middle of his poker game, finally and at long last.
Wilson enters, just as House is taking down a big pot, ready to play poker in his stylin' McGill sweatshirt. Canadian Universities: for those who couldn't get into the choice American ones. Just kidding, Canucks, and any American who went to a Canadian school! I'm sure your colleges are very nice indeed and teach more than hockey. ["...I would defend the institution from which I earned my undergrad degree, but the truth is that I only went there because my dad was the registrar so it was free. Go Badgers!" -- Wing Chun] House introduces Wilson to his fellow players -- Dry Cleaner, Tax Accountant, and Guy From The Bus Stop -- creating immediate dissent in the ranks when the players note that Wilson gets to have a name and they don't. I can't even go into how incredibly awesome it is that House has a weekly poker night with random people like this. My only gripe is that Wilson gets to play in it and Cuddy doesn't. Wilson rolls up his sleeves and gets ready to play.
Chase is lonely at Grace's house, so he gives House a call to chat. He says that Grace's home is filled with electronic devices that give off radiation, as our love of technology is sure to give us all cancer one day no matter how far away from the microwave we stand. Also, Grace has four different pain pill prescriptions. House's mouth waters. Wilson raises House's raise, and Tax Accountant is impressed, and looks a lot like Wayne Knight. House hangs up on Chase and folds, and everyone at the table laughs at House for having his bluff called, much to House's consternation.
Meanwhile, Chase Geigers around the house. When he gets to the closet, he's shocked to find some men's clothing there. Hey -- I think I recognize that red and blue striped tie...
Chase calls House back and angrily reports that Grace has a boyfriend no one knew about who may very well come home at any minute and have Chase arrested. You know Chase is concerned about this, since he's on the phone whining about it instead of getting the hell out of there. House puts down the phone and throws out a big bet. Guy From The Bus Stop thinks House is bluffing that he has a straight flush, and calls the bet. House looks to Wilson for his bet.
Over at Grace's house, someone approaches the front door, and Chase freaks out. Is that Grace's boyfriend coming home? Does House really have the three and five of clubs in his hand to make a straight flush? The answer is no, and yes: the shadowy figure walks away, and who knows what the hell whoever that was was doing skulking around people's front doors at night.
And, Wilson folds, followed by Dry Cleaner, and then Tax Accountant. House grimly takes nine whole dollars for his straight flush, and then picks up the phone and tells Chase not to worry: Grace's boyfriend won't be coming home anytime soon.
And just how does House know that? Well, you can bet that God didn't tell him. While the three nameless guys watch and listen, House tells Wilson that he's figured out how Boyd knew about this poker game: Wilson told Grace about it, and she told Boyd. But why, exactly, would Wilson tell a patient something mundane about his life like that? Unless, of course, she wasn't just a patient. "Don't," Wilson says, shaking. But House does. "I'm seriously saying DON'T," Wilson says again, this time almost looking into the camera. "You've been having sex...with our miracle woman," House concludes. And then he and Wilson both stare at the camera in very close shots that show the hell off of House's blue eyes.
Boyd's dad comes to the meeting room to tell the Cottages that Boyd is ready to check out. Why does everyone in that family have access to House's offices in this episode? Foreman and Cameron protest, saying that Boyd's sodium levels still haven't been regulated. But Boyd's dad says that Boyd told him that God said it was okay, so Boyd's dad is going to take Boyd's word for it. Unless one of the Cottages wants to take a hard line with Boyd for him.
In the kitchen, Wilson begs House to tell the poker players that Wilson isn't his name so that they don't go off to the authorities and report Wilson for sleeping with his patient and get his medical privileges taken away, like the freaking Dry Cleaner really cares about that. House agrees to this, in exchange for the juicy details about Grace and Wilson's hook-up. Wilson says that he gave Grace a ride home one day, when her ride didn't show up, and then stayed to buy her some groceries, and then tucked her into bed, and then sort of joined her there. And stayed there. And moved out of House's place and into hers. Because people who are dying of horrible painful cancer are all about embarking on new relationships and having hot sex. House accuses Wilson of feeding off of other people's neediness.
Wilson takes his leave of the poker game. House follows him outside so that he can yell at him some more: he accuses Wilson of having a fetish for needy people, which I can understand more than people who are into feet. I mean, at least needy people generally smell nice. Feet are just gross. Meanwhile, I have no idea whether what House is saying about Wilson is accurate or not. I don't know enough about Wilson's character or the women he's been with to say. Then again, House is probably one of the neediest people on this show, so I guess that would explain why Wilson wants to be his friend so badly. It's the best explanation for their enduring friendship that I've seen so far. Wilson must be really pissed off at God now, House says, for making Grace happy and independent and, therefore, no longer in need of Wilson's services. Wilson is also risking his career to sleep with a patient, which House thinks is stupid. Wilson counters that House isn't mad at him for risking his job: he's mad because Wilson lied to House, and House didn't realize it, making him not in control of something. And House, Wilson says, always has to be in control, and that's why he hates religion, which places control and power in the hands of some unknown higher power. With that, House's phone rings, and our psychoanalysis session that never occurs in real life can end. Boyd has a fever and is delusional. The only problem is that tuberous sclerosis doesn't cause fevers. I would say that being stuck in a building full of sick people probably does, but I'm no doctor. Wilson offers to drive House to PPTH, their fight temporarily forgotten. Those random people in House's apartment have temporarily been forgotten, too, it seems. Hope they're not the stealing type!
At the hospital, House wonders whether Boyd's tuberous sclerosis, while being a correct diagnosis, isn't as aggressive a case as they assumed. Maybe something else is making Boyd sick and causing all his symptoms, and they just happened to find something that explained it and went with that when it wasn't the answer. They need to look for something else. "It's lumbar-puncture time!" House declares.
But Boyd has seen this show before, and knows what to expect from lumbar punctures, so he doesn't want any part of them. He's sure that God will fix his problems. Foreman and Cameron appeal to Boyd's useless dad to step up and actually be an authority figure and make the right decision for his delirious, feverish son. Boyd begs his father to be strong in his faith and stuff, and the dad, looking kind of ashamed, refuses to let them do the lumbar puncture. "God knows the answer," says Dad.
So House calls upon Wilson to come back to Boyd and work his manipulating magic again. Wilson thinks they're better off slipping some antibiotics into Boyd's food and hoping that the drugs will combat whatever bacterial infection the kid has. Unless... "What if it's not an infection?" Wilson wonders. Maybe all the symptoms Boyd has, except the fever, are from his tuberous sclerosis, and the fever is just something unrelated that he picked up, maybe even at PPTH. Or maybe, House thinks, he didn't get it at PPTH, but gave it to someone at PPTH -- Grace. Boyd gave her a virus that attacked her tumor. Apparently, some viruses have been known to attack cancerous tumors before they attack the rest of the body, which means that everyone with terminal cancer watching this show just left to get their hands on any and all viruses around. One thing that is known to go after the exact kind of cancer cells that Grace has is herpes. Herpes encephalitis explains all of Boyd's recent symptoms.
Boyd may have a fever, but he's still got enough fight left in him to fend off House, when House tries to remove Boyd's shirt to find the herpes encephalitis sore that he must have scratched before putting his hand on Grace's face, thereby transmitting the virus to her. Boyd's dad wakes up, and asks how Boyd could have gotten herpes without having sex. The answer is that he couldn't. Boyd had some sinful, God-hating premarital sex, and now he gets to pay a price for it that's even worse than anything 7th Heaven ever came up with. Boyd starts panicking, and says that he is clean. House appeals to his father, asking him why he thinks Boyd is so desperate to purify himself with all that water consumption if he hasn't done something to make himself feel dirty. Boyd begs his father to have faith in him. "I have faith in the Lord," says Boyd's dad. "You, I trust. As much as you can trust a teenage boy." Uh oh. Boyd's dad orders him to take off his clothes for House. Boyd sinks down on the bed, and pulls up his shirt, revealing telltale sores on his back. House assures him that he'll recover from this, and the doctors leave the room, Boyd curled up in his bed, his face buried in his pillow in shame. Aw, I feel sorry for him. But how did Boyd know that those sores, which were nowhere near where you'd expect to find herpes, were related to his sinful sex and, therefore, something he needed to hide from everyone? I guess he read the script.
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. 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.