Knowledge is; Power corrupts

Thirteen recognises the crack dealer.

She likes her secrets; likes knowing things that people don't know she knows, likes keeping knowledge inside her, hoarding it like a dragon curled on its treasure. Except that nobody even knows her treasure is there.

She sees things, stores them away in the endless filing cabinets of her mind, all cross-referenced and indexed and colour-coordinated.

She sees the way House and Cuddy look at each other the day after Cuddy loses her baby; she sees Taub talking to his wife in a restaurant and her crying and him just sagging with guilt and exhaustion; she sees Kutner arguing with a group of friends in a sci-fi shop.

She sees Cameron and Foreman kissing in a dark exam room; sees Chase, who is rather more cautious inside work and rather less so outside work, kneeling at the feet of one of the hospital lawyers in a dark alley, the man's hands tangled in Chase's fair hair and his eyes flickering shut with pleasure; she sees Chase and Cameron both lying shamelessly and holding hands without a discernable trace of guilt.

She likes knowing things, keeping them secret. She likes even the knowledge of her knowledge to be secret.

She knows the crack dealer, remembers distantly the arch of her back and the curves of her body. Thirteen's tried drugs, gone back to them more than once, but they never really did much for her. What she likes is knowledge, and the silent rush of power it brings.