Chuck Versus the Expunction

Prologue: It's Not Syphilis

There were twenty-three people scattered around the walk-in clinic when Chuck Bartowski took a seat beside the last empty chair. The waiting room buzzed with quiet chatter, sharp sniffles, barking coughs, and the occasional groan of pain while the nurses shuffled paper, passed off charts, and slowly called the names of the patients waiting. He had second thoughts. In fact, he had fifth thoughts about doing this. Each time his name wasn't called for his appointment, Chuck debated leaving because...really, what could they do for him? Why did he think that Dr. Gregory House would listen to him? Why would House be any different from the doctors he'd seen back in California?

"Charles?" boomed the short, blonde nurse who smiled at him as she passed his paper-thin chart off to a woman draped in a white coat. He quickly got to his feet and shook the woman's hand as she greeted him.

"I'm Dr. Hadley," she stated before motioning toward the exam room she'd been using to treat her patients. Reluctantly, Chuck followed her gesture and once she closed the door behind them, he turned toward her.

"I wanted to see Dr. House."

Dr. Hadley nodded once but kept her friendly smile as she opened Chuck's chart and scanned his chart note. "I think I can treat a sore throat, if that's okay?" she asked and looked up at her patient. "Dr. House is extremely busy."

"I can wait," Chuck argued and after a small pause, continued with a lie. "Please, I would rather have a male doctor."

Again, Dr. Hadley gave a small nod before setting his chart down and opening the door. As she exited, she gave Chuck a warm smile. "I'll send him in before his next patient."

I shouldn't do this, Chuck thought to himself as he started pacing the small room. "He won't take me seriously. No one else has, so why should he?" he whispered quietly to himself as he spun on his toe and retraced his steps once again. "I'll either be laughed at or referred to a psychiatrist."

The door opened again, startling Chuck, and a man with a cane strode in and kicked it shut behind him. Unlike Dr. Hadley, he wasn't wearing a white coat, or a name badge, or a smile. Instead of introducing himself, he took the chart and flipped through it as he read Chuck's medical history form. Finally, he turned back to the chart note and then looked up at his patient.

"Dr. Hadley seems to think you don't have a sore throat," the man began. He closed the chart, set it on the counter, and took a seat on the wheelie stool. "She's really smart, you know. Who would've thought beauty could have brains, too, right?"

Chuck studied the guy, scrutinizing his words and sarcastic tone, and suddenly he was nervous. Not just an anxious nervous anymore. His heart thumped roughly against his ribcage and his hands felt wet with a clammy sweat. He swallowed thickly and exhaled a soft sigh, unsure of how to begin.

"Usually, when men come in with nonexistent sore throats and ask for male doctors, they're ashamed of something. I mean, who could blame you? Hadley's hot. I wouldn't want to flail my weepy penis at her either. So tell me, what color is the discharge so I don't have to see it either."

Dr. House opened his prescription pad and scribbled Chuck's name at the top and his signature at the bottom, leaving the middle blank so that he could fill it in with an antibiotic.

"I don't have gonorrhea!" Chuck gasped, his face askew with disbelief.

"Okay, so it's not a yellow discharge. Must be white, I'm thinking chlamydia. Could explain the sore throat, too--"

"It's not an STD at all!" argued Chuck. "My penis is fine, thank you very much."

This time, it was House who did the surveying. His gaze held Chuck's unwavering for a few moments before he stood up, heaved an annoyed sigh, and used his cane to push open the door. "Dr. Hadley will be back in a few minutes. Until then, find the cat that's got your tongue."

"No, wait!" Chuck exclaimed, holding up a hand in an effort to stop House from leaving. "I came all the way here from Burbank. To see you. Because you're the only doctor that's going to listen to me and help me."

House let his cane fall back to the floor beside him and allowed the door to shut before looking up at Chuck with eyebrows raised, interested in what else he had to say. When he didn't continue, House sighed again and leaned into his cane. "I'm listening, but I'm not hearing anythi--"

"My brain is a computer," Chuck interjected. "Well, more like a hard drive, since that's actually what stores all of the computer's information. But I guess you could still call it a computer since only a portion of it would be considered the hard drive..."

Chuck's voice trailed off as he realized he was deviating from the point. With a deep breath, he focused his thoughts and continued. "It's called the Intersect, and it holds encrypted data of every single secret the government's got. And some cool things, too, like entire languages and kung fu and cooking and knife throwing and even surgery. All right here."

As he finished, he pointed at his head. "And I want it gone."