I am addicted, a druggie. I know this. I accept this. I'm hooked on painkillers, on alcohol, on attention. Those are old habits, and I have come to terms with my imperfections.

Without these things, though, what would I be? If I didn't have another pill, I would have withdrawals, as has been proven, and then I would hurt. A lot. But I would live. Without booze, I would be a little more sarcastic, people might notice, and then I'd adjust and probably find a new evening activity. If I didn't have attention I would just be some rotten curmudgeon that no one noticed. Ho-hum sort of thing.

But, logically, everyone has that one thing which will be their downfall, and I've found mine.

The hospital, for all intents and purposes, was empty. Sure, people and gurneys rushed to and fro, saving lives, being all energetic and annoying. I needed to find one person and one person only, and therefore nothing and no one else mattered and the hospital was empty.

I pushed open Cuddy's door, waved hello to the cross-eyed nicknard that was probably taking a job interview, and sat down on her couch. "Where's Wilson?" I asked, after a moment of stunned silence from my audience. This, here, is what I was talking about with the attention. I swear, it's a kind of ambrosia, a drink of the gods that will forever keep me entertained.

Cuddy found her voice, gave the dweeb an apologetic look, and hurried over to me. "House, not that I think it will help, at least check if I have a meeting in progress before barging in here," she hissed.

I ingored her and heaved a mock-disappointed sigh. "You would know him if you saw him. A little shorter than me? Actually likes people? Boy genius of oncology?" I wagged a scolding finger in her face. "You know. Jimbo. Jimmy. Jim. Famous for the phrase 'Beam me up, Scottie.'"

She raised an impatient eyebrow. "I've never heard Dr. Wilson say that in my life. You must be thinking of a different James."

"I know I am, it's James T. Kirk." I slapped my hand to my forehead in pain at her blank stare. "Star Trek reference! Come on, it's the third greatest quote from the entire original series including movies! The other two are 'Live long and prosper,'" then I did the finger thing, four fingers split down the middle, "and-"

The nerd spoke up, saying excitedly, "'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.' Right? When Spock dies in the second movie?"

I gave him a Look for interrupting, but I nodded and jerked a passably discreet thumb in his direction with my eyebrows up. To Cuddy in a stage whisper I said, "I'm not surprised at him, but, honestly, how can you say that you've lived if you've never watched Star Trek?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose and said, "Wilson's on vacation. He took four days off, something to do with court appearances. Now will you get out of here?"

I stretched out more and made a show of settling in. "I don't remember ever agreeing to something like that."

"House, get out." That was the red flag; she was running out of patience for my lovable antics. Time to scram, and take my own sweet time of it. Darn, and I could have kept going if it had been Wilson. He puts up with me, God only knows why.

"No, please, I don't want to go to school today." I shrugged my shoulders to prove that I really didn't have to go anywhere and levered myself up. "Which courthouse, did you say?"

She turned her back "Find out yourself, he's your friend."

Actually, that had been bothering me. Wasn't he obligated to tell me whenever he was going to go anywhere? Then again, he probably thought that I wouldn't listen. It's not that I don't listen, I just don't respond - I have precious little emotional surety myself that I don't want to mess him up for life, too. Well, come to think of it, I've already done that, but such is life.

I stormed out of the office and called his apartment. No answer, but the voice mail message was enough of a taste of Wilson to tide me over for a few minutes. In his hesitant voice, he said, "You have reached Dr. James Wilson's home phone number. If you are a patient, call my pager at 659-4452 or make an appointment. If you're not a patient, I'm not home, House."

I cracked a smile. So, he didn't have any other friends that called him at home? Who cares if I'm just that cool? He doesn't need any other friends, I'm more than one person can handle.

But I was starting to think that I might need other friends, because now I was bored and my minions didn't have a case to work on and they were all working the Clinic already. God rest their souls. I hobbled off to my office to twirl my cane, pop a few pills, and think of when Wilson could have mentioned a court date. Nothing came to mind, Maybe I really didn't listen.

I was in a bad mood. I decided to wander around the waiting room and trip people, because a surprised face is a funny one. Maybe, on the way, I would think of a way to find out where Wilson was.

Cuddy saw me and put me on Clinic duty, the Stalin that she is. 'Don't hit patients,' she says, but then has to go and add, 'or nurses, orderlies, or other doctors.' Where's the fun, I ask you?

"Doc, I shouldn't even be here. My mom's convinced that something's wrong with me," the starry-eyed boy of about thirteen protested the instant I walked in. He would have kept talking if I hadn't slapped the clipboard I held onto the counter.

"You are sweaty and panicky and you're eyes are glassy." He stared at me blankly as I picked up a pen and scribbled on my hand as a test. "That means," I really want to be talking to a sentient being that understands me. "That means that you either have a fever of over a hundred degrees and should be delirious, or you're lying and scared of being found out. Which is it? You been seeing neat little pink elephants on unicycles around?"

He opened his mouth, but, since he had nothing productive to say, I rolled over him. "What does Mother Dearest say that your symptoms are?"

"Well…" he looked around and leaned in close, prompting me to look around in the same way and move back. "She says I'm having nightmares."

"And you have no memory of this?" Yay, some fun with mental blackouts!

"I'm not asleep when she thinks I am… My, uh, friend sneaks over."

A moment of silence.

"Ew," I said, "a skinny little kid is getting laid and I'm left out in the cold. Good going, God, answering all my prayers for some brat!"

"Don't tell my mom! Please, I'll get kicked out of the house!"

"Why, d'you knock her up?" I smelled a sitcom!

"No…" He was definitely nervous.

"Then what's the big-"

"No, not 'she'."

"…Oh."