Prodded & Poked

Fuck the smell of rubbing alcohol. They didn't have to go very far into the pastel pink catacombs of the hospital until they were drowning in the odor. Daryl couldn't think of a smell he hated more.

And fuck his innards for doing this to him. They were acting like he had swallowed a shit ton of glass.

He'd heard somewhere that touching a hurting body part made it felt better because the brain could respond to the pain more quickly if there was a hand there to flag the area. Daryl found this to be very true with toes, (he was always stubbing his on the corner of the couch) but it did not nothing for the pain in his belly that moved from near the centre of it all the way to his hip. Which probably wasn't a sign that it would get better if it was left alone.

They took a right, and went straight for a while, right again in a exhausting pace. Daryl was starting to get hot from trying to keep up with the nurse and his brother.

Another heavy wave of pain hit him. He leaned against the wall, breathing in and out slowly to try and calm it. Which did nothing for it either.

Gun to his head honest, Daryl wanted to cry, just wanted to sit down right there and bawl, that's how bad it hurt. But Merle would never let him hear the end of it if he did. His discomfort over being at the hospital was getting him teased enough.

Fuck his stupid brother.

The real stupid thing was that he didn't want Merle to leave him. He bet it was something inherently instinctual, like how Louie would only go out in the yard at night as long as Rocky went too because Louie had cataracts and could get lost in the dark easily or eaten by coyotes.

Fuck coyotes.

Merle stopped and waited for him, looking more concerned than he would like to most likely. The pain went back down to the throbbing.

"Git this over with," Daryl said. He pulled off his coat. It was his hunting jacket, camo -tree print, unexplained tear in the sleeve. It was a good coat for cold nights, wearing it now was probably why he was so hot.

"Atta boy." Merle patted his shoulder. He offered to take Daryl's jacket but he denied the help. He'd rather hold on to it.

Maybe he's need for company was his baby brother complex.

The nurse showed them into a small room. There was an examination table one corner, a desk and computer on the opposite side from the table, and some chairs, and a wheelie stool beside that.

He sat down on one of the chairs rather than the table despite being the patient, they were lower and therefore a easier spot to sit himself down. The nurse didn't tell him to move.

"I'm going to take your blood pressure, love." She took the blood pressure thingy off the wall.

Have we met? 'Cause I don't think we don't know each other. Daryl retorted to the title silently.

She wrapped the cuff around his arm. It grew tighter with a shuck, shuck, shuck to the point Daryl could feel the pulsing of his blood.

"Good," she smiled at him, the cuff got loose. She took it off and set it back on the wall. "A doctor will be with you shortly."

The nurse walked out, shutting the door behind her. Daryl continued staring at the door. Any minute now, a doctor was going to come in and…he didn't know what was going to happen after that but he knew it was going to be God awful. Absolutely God awful.

He looked away from the door. A watched pot never boils and watching the door was making his heart race.

There was no nightmare inducing medical instruments laying out in the open. But God only knew what could be in the desk drawers. Merle had to open up the top drawers. Daryl pointedly looked away, but he did get a look. Thankfully it was just office supplies. The bottom one was locked. So Merle took up the giant blue book with three columns and tiny print on the pages.

"Huh. Did you know if you stretched out someone's intestines from end to end. They'd die." Merle stated matter-of-factly.

Daryl laughed, but his ailing guts didn't find it funny.

"Don't make me laugh," grumbled Daryl.

Being unable to sit still was a Dixon gene. Daryl poked around in the magazine rack.

"'ey," Daryl held up a small children's book with a rabbit wearing a overly large green golf cap.

"Holy shit," Merle exclaimed.

The Tale of Benjamin Bunny.

It was Daryl's favorite story when he was a little bitty kid, had it read to him over a thousand times easy.

The story goes that Benjamin Bunny's cousin, Peter Rabbit, loses his jacket in some cranky old farmer's garden and Benjamin helps him go get it back and then they get caught by the cat and Benjamin's dad comes and saves them from the cat, then tears their cottontails up with a switch. Which would've been odd for other children.

Daryl flipped through the pages, the rustic illustrations of the rabbits still had a place in his memory. Even though it had over twenty years since he last seen it.

The reason why he liked the story so much when he was young was that Daryl related so much to it. Peter and Benjamin were more like brothers, the story was so applicable to him, getting in to trouble and Merle bailing him out.

"Thanks for doin' all this. Know ya probably have a thousand other places ya'd rather be."

Daryl had accepted the fact that he needed to be here in this and he knew he hadn't made it easy for his older brother.

"Ya ain't gonna die ok?" Merle said sternly, he shifted in his seat. "No need to be a pussy."

The doorknob turned. Two white coated doctors walked in; a old man and a young woman. The kind of woman his older brother was going to flirt with. So either Merle was going to distract the doctor from her job, agitate her and she takes it out on Daryl, or get himself kicked out and Daryl would be alone.

"Hi, I'm doctor Kaycee Hayes, and this is my attending, doctor Scottman." She perkily introduced herself. "So which one of you fine gentlemen is Daryl?"

Not me. Daryl wanted to point over at Merle, who perhaps read his mind.

"He is. I'm his brother, Merle."

Dr Hayes shook Merle's hand then Daryl's. She sat down on the wheelie stool, rolling herself across from Daryl. The older doctor leaned against the desk.

"You're here for abdominal pain?" She looked at the clipboard.

Daryl nodded.

"When did the pain start?"

"This morning."

"Really early this morning. Heard ya up 'bout four, wasn't it?" Merle shared with the doctors.

Daryl nodded again.

"Did it wake you up?" asked the old doctor.

"Yes." Come to think to it had woke him up.

"On a scale from one to ten, with ten being the worst, how would you rate your pain?" asked the woman.

Daryl wasn't sure how he could assign a number to this. It felt bad, horrible to go as far, but he could still physically move and was able of coherent thought, mostly how much he wanted out of this room.

"Umm. Seven."

"Nah, I'd give it a least a eight, takes a lot to knock you on yer ass," said Merle.

"Has it been getting worse?" The doctor asked next.

"Yer feelin, worse, ain't cha?" Merle had asked him earlier tonight

"No, the same." Daryl had lied so he wouldn't have to go to the hospital.

"Yeah," Daryl guiltily answered. No use lying now.

Merle sort of glared at him, and made a backhand gesture.

"Can you hop up on the table?"

And here comes the God awful part.

"Sure. Walking is agonizing but haven't tried hopping," growled Daryl.

Her doe eyes were struck with alarm that made Daryl feel bad for getting pretty snippy.

"He's got horrible jitters too," Merle shared.

"Oh," Dr. Hayes said.

Daryl did not appreciate Merle's comment. Though he was glad that she would know it wasn't personal and she slowly went back to her unnaturally happy demeanor. It was almost two in the morning and she was at work, how could she be so happy.

He got up on that stupid table with that stupid crinkly paper. The sound rubbed him the wrong way.

"Lay back and let's take a look see," Dr. Hayes said. Daryl laid down. "Can you undo your pants?"

No. No I can not. Daryl really wanted to say. Nothing good was going to come of this, He undid his belt and the top button on his fly.

"Just shrug them down a little bit here," she pulled his jean down a tiny bit and pulled up his shirt to expose the problematic area.

That was the perfect set-up for some crude remark from his brother, but Merle kept quiet.

Her hands were cold. She tapped his stomach like she was looking for a stud in a wall.

"I'm not feeling any obstructions."

You really don't have to narrate this.

"Discomfort isn't due to intestinal blockage."

"Little turkey hasn't been eating much," Merle said.

"Loss of appetite?" asked his tormentor.

"Ye-es." Her prodding fingers hit a very sore spot.

"I'm sorry, almost done," she apologized, blowing her bangs out of her face with a huff. "His abdomen is tight. I'm not sure if that's just because he's nervous."

Why are y'all so wrapped up in that fact?

If Daryl had to hear one more person say he was damn near pissing himself…

The older doctor came over. He smelled like peppermint, was probably the gum he was chewing. He stood above Daryl along with his young coworker and he got the uncomfortable feeling of being on display.

"Take a deep breath." The older doctor ordered.

Daryl did as told, filling himself with air.

"And let it out slowly."

And he deflated himself as slowly as he could.

"Still feel it?" He asked his inexperienced coworker who was still poking him.

"Yes."

"Most likely it's appendicitis but there is a small chance it could be kidney stones," said the attending. "Dr. Hayes?"

The young doctor looked stunned. She looked back to Daryl like he was going to give her the answer.

If I could diagnosis myself, I wouldn't be here.

"I recommend we do a – a um- blood test. And urine sample." Dr Hayes pitched to the older doctor "Oh and a rectal exam."

ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Over his panic, he heard Merle snickered.

Fuck his stupid brother. You know who else tricks people into vehicle with promises of ice cream and then they end up getting molested. Fucking pedophiles.

"We'll see what the lab tests bring back first. Don't want to overload the poor lad," said the older doctor. Disturbingly literally, saving his ass.

The tortuous tag team excused themselves for a brief moment to go get a syringe and sample cup. As soon as they were gone Daryl sat up and redid his belt.

"You should've seen the look on your face," Merle was laughing so hard he was going red in the face.

"Ain't funny."

"That was worth every minute we've been here."

"Shut the hell up."

"At least yer doc's a cutie, not some fugly hag or a dude."

Daryl set his jaw and shook his head. Nothing Merle could say would make him feel ok about a rectal exam.

"And I would hold yer hand the whole time," Merle was starting to quiet down.

"No. Ya'd be out in the hallway."

If there was anything left in this world, Daryl could have still have a say in, it was that Merle was not going to see him cry.

He concentrated on his shoes and the white tiles on the floor.

He was in pain and scared as hell. He knew what appendicitis meant, meant being cut open, he knew it meant staying here.

Daryl never wanted to go home so badly in his life.

Merle came over and sat beside him on the table.

"Yer gonna get through this, little brother," he said gruffly.

Merle was trying to be comforting, and that's what counted. Not to mention he wasn't going to leave him for the world.

Probably his big brother complex.

Authors note:

Thanks so much for the reviews. I love them! JackAndHoney, Andi-iRock, Ashvarden, Surplus Imagination, Effigy, irishartemis, deanandjo4ever1, Rebecca taylor, Brazen Hussy, Chemical Ghost (Good diagnosis), Ben, Lady Impala, Rat, Nelo, Peachuzoid, Pontythings, ChooWoo, sherlockian2205, , tellie, i luv ewansmile, N3v3rm0r331949, Mei Ju, and h8erade. (only a Canadian would question healthcare, but I got the Dixons covered, you'll see)

Hope the cover page (if you can't read it, the van says free candy) now makes sense.