"Hi Daryl, please come in. My name's Joel."

Daryl shakes the proffered hand and looks around the consultation room as the doctor closes the door behind them. The room, at the very top of the hospital, is bright and airy. It's quiet here this morning. Like most of the hospital, the fifth floor, divided into small consultation rooms, has only recently been set up.

Joel motions to the chair in front of his desk, and Daryl sits down. The doctor takes the chair opposite him and opens a file that's lying on the table. He looks at Daryl sincerely. His eyes are green and friendly, his face is clean-shaven and he reminds Daryl of someone. "Is it okay if I take notes?"

Daryl nods. "Sure."

"Thanks." Joel gives him a smile. "Before we start, I want to explain my plans to you, so you know where I'm at. Then I'll ask you a bunch of questions, but we'll take it slow. Oh, and you ask me anything you want to know whenever, okay?"

Daryl nods again.

Joel looks a little embarrassed as he continues. "I talk a lot, for which I want to apologize right now." He considers Daryl and adds with a deadpan face, "You're more the strong, silent type, aren't you?"

Daryl feels a grin steal onto his face, something that hasn't happened in a while. He likes the doc. Now he knows who Joel reminds him of: Aaron, who also talks more in a day than Daryl finds necessary for most months. Both Aaron and Joel have important things to say, so Daryl doesn't mind. As long as all he has to do is listen. He shrugs, still grinning slightly. "I guess."

"That works, then, because I talk for two." Joel's smile is mischievous, but then his face returns to seriousness. "Okay, preface: In the world before I was a psychiatrist. You know what that means?"

Daryl nods a third time. "A doctor who becomes a shrink after med school," he says, then adds quietly, "Had a friend who was a psychiatrist. She died." The thought of Denise makes his heart hurt, and in response his gut clenches angrily. He winces and presses a hand on his belly.

Joel frowns. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Daryl breathes. It's true, he'll be okay for a little bit.

"Just in case," Joel says, "Bathroom's third on the right, down the way you came, okay?"

Daryl nods mutely. He needs this to be over, he needs this doctor to know what he's doing. Joel gives him a long look. "I'm very sorry about your friend, Daryl, and about everything else that's happened. We'll talk about all that, once you're not feeling so wretched anymore, okay?"

Not trusting himself to speak Daryl just nods again. His instinct tells him this doctor is good people, and for the first time since their horrible car trip the day before he feels that it might've been worth coming to the Kingdom.

"On that note," Joel says, "I should probably clarify something. In this room, everything you say to me is confidential. Far as I'm concerned, that's not changed just because the world ended. But I feel I have to be upfront with you, Daryl: Eric, and Jesus, too, have told me a few things about you. Your symptoms, and what happened to you, and I listened very closely. I want to apologize for that indiscretion."

Daryl can tell this is important to the doctor, but he doesn't really care. "'s really okay," he mumbles. What does it matter if someone talked? They're his family.

"Well, I'm glad I had some time to prepare, in any case." Joel sounds relieved. "My med school days are long past, and when it comes to anything below the neck my skills are a bit rusty. But I've read up on your symptoms, and I'm pretty sure I have some useful ideas." He leans forward. "We'll get you feeling better, and then we'll tackle the psychiatry side of things, okay? That's where my real expertise lies."

"Sounds good," Daryl says, and it really does.

"Alright." Joel stands up. "Hop onto the bed for me a moment."

He points at a tall examination gurney. Daryl does as he's told. He doesn't exactly hop onto the bed but has to clamber up awkwardly, he's just too weak. As he stretches out, his belly gives another twinge. Rick made him eat some gruel for breakfast, and now Daryl wishes he had refused. He's starting to feel sick.

"Can you open your belt and your pants for me?"

Daryl fumbles with the buttons, his hands are shaking. Once he's managed the tasks he drops them by his sides, and wills his insides to be quiet a little longer.

Joel frowns down at him. "You're looking pinched. Do you want to use the bathroom first?"

"'s okay, really," Daryl says, hating the constant repetition of those words.

"I promise I'll be quick." First, Joel listens to Daryl's belly and his gut with a stethoscope. "Is it only diarrhea?"

"Usually, yeah," Daryl says. "Sometimes, I feel real sick, but not like I'm gonna puke." He doesn't let his mind go back to that moment in the cell, when Dwight pushed the Polaroids under the door. He can't, not now, not ever…Daryl closes his eyes.

A sharp pain suddenly slices through him as the doctor presses on his lower belly. Daryl flinches, and his eyes fly open.

"Sorry, Daryl." Joel takes his hands away quickly. "I just want to take your temperature. You're still okay?"

Daryl nods, but bites his lip. The doctor puts the little nub from the thermometer in his ear, and Daryl waits impatiently for the beep. When it comes he rolls over and staggers to his feet, holding on to his open pants so they don't slide down to his knees.

"Sorry," he manages before rushing from the room. The hollow, gnawing feeling in his gut tells him he only has a minute or two.

When he returns to the office ten minutes later, on shaky legs and feeling exhausted, Joel is back behind his desk. He points to the chair Daryl sat in earlier. "Sit down before you fall down," he says.

Daryl does as he's told, not really having a choice in the matter. Joel's saying sounds like a very accurate prediction of the future.

There's a glass of water on the table before Daryl, and Joel now puts two pills next to it. "Take these, and drink all the water."

Daryl eyes the pills nervously and doesn't move.

Joel sits up. "Right, sorry, that was patronizing of me." He points at the pink one. "That's just Benadryl. It used to be sold over the counter, not much to it. But it'll really help with the cramps. And you can take a few a day and they won't hurt you."

Daryl nods slowly, and Joel carries on. "The white one is codeine." Daryl throws him a confused look, and Joel explains, "It's going to help with the pain, but the amazing thing is that it'll stopper you right up."

To his own surprise, Daryl gives a soft laugh at the doctor's words. Joel grins, pleased with his joke. "Opioids slow down the movement of the colon. Sometimes, people get constipated instead, so we need to be careful. Your gut's all over the place right now, and we can't let it get too used to the drug. But for a few days you'll be fine with the codeine."

There's an odd feeling in Daryl's chest. He recognizes it only after a few seconds. It's hope. "Thanks, doc."

"The codeine will make you drowsy. After this one here, only take one before you go to bed." Joel smiles. "You'll sleep like a baby."

A weight Daryl hadn't even realized was there suddenly vanishes. "Can't even remember the last time I slept through the night," he says. "And I been keeping Rick up, too. And no matter how many hours I'm in bed, it never feels like I got any sleep."

"Your temperature when I measured it just now was 100.2," Joel explains. "You're running a low-grade fever, probably have for quite some time. No wonder you feel constantly exhausted." The doc leans forward and pushes the pills a little closer still. "And you're losing large amounts of fluid, and your gut isn't healing. Frankly, I'm surprised you're still upright."

"Barely," Daryl mumbles.

Joel looks at him intently. "Take the pills now. You'll be surprised how quickly they'll work."

Daryl holds the doc's gaze for a moment, his instinctive mistrust briefly overwhelming. But he already knows Joel is one of the good guys. His gut might be fucked up right now, but his gut instinct tells him he can trust the doc. And he needs to learn to trust again, might as well start now.

He picks up the pills and puts them into his mouth, then chases them with a few gulps of water. He puts the glass down and listens to his insides for a few heartbeats. So far, no alarm bells.

Before he came upstairs this morning, Daryl had promised himself to ask the doctor one question, so he takes a deep breath. "What…what do ya think is the matter with me?" He stops. The next bit is even harder. "D'ya…d'ya think we can fix it? Me, I mean?"

Joel is still leaning on the table, considering his words before he speaks. "I can hardly speculate what man-made horror did this to you, and before we get into what happened, I think you need to be a lot stronger." He waits for Daryl to nod his assent, then continues, "Whatever the cause, you're definitely suffering from a chronic inflammation of the bowel."

Daryl makes a face. "Gross." He thinks for a moment, then asks, "Why does it come and go, though?"

Joel shrugs. "Without a lot more sophisticated equipment I can barely even guess. With the usual forms of IBD, like Crohn's Disease, there are usually episodes of remission, and then flare-ups. Even before, when we had access to specialists and tests and machines it wasn't completely clear what caused it, and treatments didn't always work."

Daryl suddenly realizes something. He puts a hand on his belly. The rumbling in there has almost stopped, and the gnawing sensation is much fainter.

Joel smiles. "You already starting to feel better?"

"Yeah," Daryl says, amazed. "That was quick."

"It's the codeine. It'll give you a nice buzz, too. That's temporary, though. Codeine fights the symptoms, not the cause." The doc pushes a small bottle towards Daryl. "This does, though."

The label on the bottle reads Orapred. Joel explains, "It's a corticosteroid, it reduces inflammation. As I said, usually I would've ordered a whole battery of tests, and referred you to a specialist. But we don't have that luxury, so we're cutting right to the chase."

Daryl picks up the little bottle. "That's it? Just pills?"

"If you want, there are other ways to administer steroids to your colon." Joel grins, giving Daryl a meaningful look. It takes a moment before Daryl has worked out what the doc means. He winces.

"No thanks." He'd rather not havethat go up his backside.

"I didn't think so," Joel says, laughing. "Anyway, steroids are also for short term use only. They can lead to serious complications if taken over a longer period. But I think we have a good chance of getting rid of this. Your IBD isn't caused by an autoimmune disease. Your body just needs some extra time to heal itself, and for you to get your energy back."

He pushes two more transparent bottles over the table, one with pink tablets, one with white. "Benadryl and codeine. Benadryl you can take one with every meal, codeine, just stick with one before bed. And tonight, take one of the Orapred with your dinner, and then one every evening with your meal."

"Alright. Thanks a lot, doc." Daryl pushes back his chair and gets up. Before he turns toward the door he hesitates. "When're we starting on…the other thing?"

"Come back in three days, at 10am, and bring Rick, too," Joel says, and also gets up. "Until then, rest. Drink plenty of fluids, eat small meals, and often. Oats are really good for a disturbed GI tract. Go easy with white bread, and also with fresh fruit. No coffee, and no alcohol."

Daryl nods. "I can do that."

"Good," Joel says, as they walk to the door. The doctor stops once more, with the hand on the door knob. "How're you feeling about the future now, Daryl?"

Daryl considers, then gives a little smile. "Real good," he says quietly. "Hopeful, like. Thanks, doc. I'll see ya in three days."

#

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" Rick is coming up the stairs of the hospital just as Daryl steps through the front door. It's a nice, warm day, though not as boiling as the last few have been. It smells of fall.

Daryl takes a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of the sun on his skin, and of being nearly pain free. "Hey, Rick."

Rick stops at the top of the stairs. "You been with the doc all morning?"

"Yeah. Sorry it took so long, was gonna come and find ya now."

Rick waves the apology away. "No matter, we'll have plenty more meetings, and soon." He rubs his face. "I'm glad to be out of there, anyway, it was getting very tactical. Never mind that, though. You alright? You look a bit flushed. And your pupils are tiny."

Daryl smiles and nods. He's feeling really good. Just a bit tired; it'd be nice to take a nap soon. But there's something else Daryl wants first. "Probably the codeine. I'm fine, much better than I was. Hey," he starts, but suddenly feels unsure again.

"What, buddy? Tell me, whatever it is." Rick's quiet voice sounds so sad, Daryl suddenly feels guilty again. He has to do this, he can.

"Come with me to see Shiva?" he asks. "I…I wanna tell ya what the doc said."

"Course I'll come." Rick's smile makes Daryl feel better again. He returns the smile, and takes a step towards the stairs. Suddenly he staggers, and Rick catches him.

"Hey, you sure you okay?"

Daryl nods, but remains where he is, leaning into Rick. "Yeah. Codeine's made me real floaty, is all. And I could really do with lunch, I guess."

That makes Rick chuckle. "Tell you what. Let's go by the mess hall first, grab a bite to eat, then say hello to your kitten friend. Sounds alright?"

"Sounds great." Daryl sighs and leans his forehead briefly against Rick's. Rick holds him tightly for a moment. Then he straightens up and turns Daryl gently towards the stairs.

"Alright, one foot before the other, that way," he says, half mocking. "Hold on to the handrail."

Daryl huffs, but does as he's told. They walk slowly down the stairs, then along the nicely tended street towards the building that holds the communal kitchen.

For the moment, it almost feels like they're back to how they used to be. They're not touching, but walk close together, in tune with each other, without a need for words or gestures.

It feels like they have a chance now. They can fight together, they can start to heal. They're together, and they're not giving up.