Chapter Text
“What’s with the scarf, Pidge?” Shiro says as Pidge finally walks into the room.
The youngest Paladin is twenty minutes late for breakfast, and Coran was beginning to worry. Although seeing her now isn’t exactly reassuring him. Shiro was right to be suspicious, because Pidge does look rather odd with a large scarf wrapped around her neck and chin. Especially because she never wears scarves and it isn’t exactly cold inside the Castle.
“Nothing,” Pidge says, failing miserably at sounding nonchalant. Her voice sounds strained, as though she is in pain but trying to hide it.
She walks towards them and sits down beside Keith. Her face pale and clammy, Pidge appears to be shivering, her arms wrapped around herself. Keith looks at her, and Hunk leans around Keith to stare at her too.
When she realises that everyone at the table is staring at her, Pidge sighs. “What? Can’t I have breakfast without you all looking at me?”
“Well, it would help if you were actually eating, Pidge,” Allura says.
“I’m not that hungry,” Pidge says, resting her elbows on the table.
“Are you feeling all right, Number Five?” Coran asks, leaning forwards in his seat.
Pidge avoids eye contact, pouring herself a glass of juice with rather shaky hands. “I’m fine. Really.”
She takes a sip of juice and winces. It is only a subtle wince, but Coran sees the pain flash across her face. No one says anything else (making it a very awkward breakfast), but Coran can’t stop thinking about how ill Pidge looks. There must be something wrong with her.
He just hopes it isn’t serious.
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When Pidge doesn’t turn up for training, Coran knows his suspicions were correct. Leaving Allura and the other Paladins to begin their training exercises, Coran heads off through the Castle to track her down. He knows his worries are probably irrational, but he can’t help but worry. After all, he cares deeply about the Paladins; they are like family to him.
He reaches Pidge’s bedroom and knocks on the door.
“Pidge, are you in there?” he calls.
“No,” Pidge says, and Coran is momentarily confused by her response.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Please go away, Coran.”
He sighs. “Pidge, please. Are you ill?”
Pidge doesn’t reply, but he hears footsteps and the door opens. She isn’t wearing the scarf, and Coran can see why Pidge was trying to hide her neck. Her jaw and neck are swollen, a visible swelling in both sides of her neck, below her ears. Pidge looks even paler than earlier, her face shining with sweat. She leans against the doorframe, her legs wobbling.
Coran stares at her, but then he snaps into action.
“Sit down, Number Five, before you fall over,” he says, putting his hands on Pidge’s shoulders and steering her towards her bed.
“I’m all right, really,” Pidge says, sinking onto her bed.
“I don’t think you are,” Coran says.
Pidge sighs, rubbing her sore neck. “I’m all right for training, though. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“No you won’t,” Coran says, covering her with a blanket. “You are ill. You need to stay in bed until you feel better.”
“But…” Pidge groans, her voice shaking. “I can’t miss training. I don’t want to let everyone down…”
Coran sighs, smiling sadly. “You aren’t letting anyone down. Everyone gets ill sometimes. You just need some time to rest.”
Pidge gives him a weak smile, wrapping the blanket around herself. “Thanks.”
“So, what’s wrong,” Coran says, sitting down beside her. “You can tell me. Maybe I can help.”
“It’s probably nothing, but I’ve got a really sore throat… and I think I’ve got a fever… and… well, I think I’m sick.”
“So do I,” he says. “Your appearance makes that somewhat obvious.”
Pidge smiles. “Yeah, I look pretty bad, don’t I?”
“Would you mind if I had a look at your throat?” Coran says. “I’m not a doctor by any means, but I do know a bit about medicine.”
“Go ahead,” Pidge says, and she opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out.
Coran carefully presses the swollen lumps on Pidge’s neck (“Sorry,” he says when she winces), and then looks down her throat. The sides of her throat are red, swollen and covered in spots of what must be pus. He grimaces, and Pidge wraps her hands around her neck,
“Now, from what I know about human physiology, that looks like tonsillitis,” he says. “Not life threatening, but very painful.”
“You can say that again,” Pidge mutters. As Coran starts to repeat what he just said, she adds, “Not literally.”
“So I can get you something for the pain, and I’ll tell the others why you’re not in training,” he says, standing up. “Is that all right?”
Pidge smiles, looking the happiest she has been all day. “Yeah, it is. Thanks, Coran.”
“You’re welcome, Number Five,” Coran says, and he leaves to get Pidge some painkillers.
And as he closes the door, the Paladin gives him the sweetest smile.