Chapter Text
Even when they'd all caught some form of space flu early on, Pidge had remained perfectly healthy.
Keith had locked himself away in his room, Lance had become clingy, Hunk had nearly passed out in the kitchen after spending hours trying to make chicken soup, Allura slept for about three days straight and Shiro hadn't been able to breathe properly and almost suffocated himself when he passed out face down into a squishy pillow.
He'd also thrown up way more than everyone else.
But Pidge, Pidge felt fine. She kept on working on her projects, she helped Coran sterilize the castleship and she helped administer medicine to the inflicted.
Ever since then it had become something of a Pidge attribute. Pidge was smart, perceptive, small, passionate and Pidge didn't get sick.
They'd all spent time in the pods, but Pidge had not. They'd all managed to sprain something during a particularly rough training session, but Pidge was fine.
They all remarked on it, her ability to just be okay. No matter what.
So the first time she rolled her ankle, she stood on it and she laughed and went back to her room where she wrapped it herself and didn't say anything to anyone.
She stared up at her ceiling and told herself she was being stupid. But no matter how illogical it was, she couldn't bring herself to admit she was hurt.
She would have to hide it. She would stay away from everyone for a few days. As long as there wasn't a Galra attack, she could do it.
Her plan worked perfectly. She was careful not to wince or limp and nobody asked if she was okay.
Because she was Pidge and she was fine.
Always fine.
Lance entered the kitchen with a dramatic sigh before stretching himself out on the floor beside one of the counters.
"What's wrong?" Hunk asked with a slight grin. Without stopping his whisking, he maneuvered around Lance to get to the other side of the counter. If Lance was being over dramatic then it wasn't anything too serious.
"Nothing," Lance responded, throwing an arm over his eyes.
"Did Allura scold you for something?"
"No." Lance crossed his arms, pouting.
"Your back hurt?" Because Lance had taken a fall on a mission recently and, while he didn't need the pod, it had still hurt him.
Lance shook his head.
"You bored?" Hunk slowly began pouring his batter into a prepared pan.
"Yeah..."
"Did you bug Pidge before you came here?"
"Yes!" Lance flung his arms out in exasperation.
"She said she wanted to work alone, man. She needed space. Did she yell at you?"
"Yeah."
Hunk caught the flicker of something serious in Lance's tone.
"She said to leave her alone."
"I know, but…" Lance leaned back against the counter. He picked at his fingernails and mumbled under his breath.
"What?" Hunk leaned down slightly, trying to catch what his friend was mumbling about.
"It looked like she'd been crying."
"Ah," Hunk straightened a spoon on his counter, fussing needlessly. "Well, not everyone wants to be around others when they feel down."
Lance crossed his arms once more.
"Nobody wants to cry alone, Hunk."
"Lance," Hunk picked up his bowl again. "Just give her some time. She knows she can talk to one of us if she needs to."
Lance huffed out a breath, looking unconvinced. Hunk sighed.
"Wanna taste test?" He held his spoon aloft.
Lance hummed and was up on his feet in an instant. "Of course."
Hunk continued his meal prep, including feedback from Lance as he worked. It was companionable and distracting. Hunk made a mental note to bring food to Pidge later before he lost himself in his work once more.
Shiro had wanted to start training early, work on hand to hand since a few of them were, admitingly, struggling with it. Hunk particularly "needed improvement." Hunk could take out just about anyone, he was more than strong enough, but it was always in the heat of the moment. All reaction and protective instincts. In actual hand to hand training, Hunk was unsure.
"Move your foot."
"My right foot?"
"Left. You want to have a steady base."
"Okay, but I don't think I'm going to remember that in a fight."
"With practice, you'll learn."
"You got this, Hunk!" Lance shouted encouragingly.
"Thanks!" Hunk shouted with a wave of his hand, distracted from his task of training with Shiro.
Keith and Lance were spectators, banned from sparring each other for at least a phoeb after their last match had ended in a badly twisted ankle and quite a few tears, though Lance still denied the crying.
Shiro had just begun moving slowly into a strike when the doors slid open and Pidge came walking through.
She was out of breath, her hair was mussed and her eyes were red again.
Lance waved a casual greeting as she muttered an excuse about being late.
"Pidge, you're with Keith!" Shiro called. Pidge nodded and moved to the side, creating more space between her and Lance.
She moved into a defensive stance. It was something they all knew how to do. Lance watched her for a moment before shifting his attention back to Hunk and, even though Hunk had his back to him, Lance was hoping his friend would look over; that he would sense Lance was trying to make meaningful eye contact here. Because, surely, it wasn't only Lance that had noticed how Pidge looked.
Hunk didn't look over.
Lance sighed. He was pretty sure Pidge had been avoiding him. They hadn't talked in a few days. He was trying to give her space, but she still looked like something was wrong.
Lance picked up harsh whispers going on behind him. That was weird. Keith and Pidge didn’t argue much.
There was a long silence, a rustle, the tapping of steps, the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor...
Lance snapped his head around, because that had been fast. And if Pidge had managed to drop Keith that quick, he needed to know how-
Pidge was on the ground.
Keith was staring, his eyes wide and mouth open, gaping.
Pidge didn’t get up.
"Keith!" Lance stormed over. "What did you do?"
It was a reaction. And not one he thought would escalate. He shoved Keith, away from Pidge's still form.
Keith pushed back. Wordlessly, easily, he shoved Lance away.
Lance was pushing again and he realized it was a bad idea when Keith grit his teeth and cocked his fist back.
"No. No. Not now." Shiro removed Lance from the equation, picking him up and turning away. He shook his head slightly at Keith and the fight went out of him immediately, rational thought catching up to reactions and instinct.
"She's got a fever." Keith mumbled with a quick gesture to Pidge. "She's really sick."
Lance stopped struggling against Shiro's arm. His protectiveness and anger boiling down to embarrassment and concern now.
Keith hadn't hurt Pidge, she had collapsed.
"I won't do anything, let me go." Lance tapped at Shiro's metal wrist and was immediately released. As soon as he was sure both boys weren't going to attack each other, Shiro knelt down by Pidge's side. He placed a hand on her forehead, feeling the heat there.
"Keith, go find Coran. Tell him to meet us in the infirmary."
Keith went without a word.
Shiro took Pidge's pulse and gently shook her shoulder, but she didn't wake up. Lance was squeezing her hand and he didn't even remember when he had decided to do that.
Shiro gently brushed him away, an apology on his lips and then he carefully, carefully picked Pidge up. Sheltered in Shiro's arms, Lance realized how small she really was. Small and young and breathing irregularly.
"Is she dying?" Lance heard himself whisper.
"Lance!" Hunk sounded horrified.
"No." Shiro's answer was definite, leaving no room for disagreement. But Lance saw the way he carried her, as though she was delicate and breakable and might slip away from him.
It all seemed so wrong.
Pidge was put in quarantine.
Only Coran was allowed contact with her because he'd had this illness when he was young.
Rilamon stins, which Lance said sounded like the name of a rude houseguest, was common and mostly harmless if caught early.
They had not caught it early.
She had been sick for days and the only reason it hadn't spread to the others was because Pidge had secluded herself and nobody had been close to her in over a week.
"I wish I was sick," Lance said one night.
"Why?" Hunk was stirring a pot of soup. He was cooking late into the night, a sign that he was upset.
"If I was sick it would mean I checked up on her better. I should have tried to talk to her more."
"Lance, you know how she is. She would have still pushed you away." Hunk tilted his head to the side. "And nothing good would come from you being sick too."
"I know. It's just- we should have noticed."
"Yeah," Hunk agreed with a frown. He wasn't happy with the situation either. He had never followed up checking on Pidge, he was a bad friend. "We have to just be more careful from here on out."
Hunk was trying to be optimistic. He couldn't do anything about what they had done, or, rather hadn't done. They just had to try and be better.
"I've gotten pretty close to my mom's chicken soup recipe here. It always made me feel better when I was sick."
Lance nodded. "I'm sure she'll like it, Hunk."
Hunk smiled and turned the heat off the stove. "Thanks, Lance."
Now he just needed to have Coran deliver the soup whenever Pidge was feeling up to eating again.
"Hope she feels better soon," Lance mumbled. Hunk smiled. He needed to be optimistic. And Pidge not getting well just couldn't be an option.
"I'm sure she will."
The first thing Pidge noticed was that her mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton. It was so dry and as she tried to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth, a sharp pain jolted through her. Her mouth hurt and her face hurt and everything else did too.
Did someone beat her up?
It felt like when she was in the first grade and Mia Thompson shoved her off of the ladder to the slide and she fell face first into the sand. Matt was so mad.
He made Mia cry because he called her something…
What was it?
Pidge forced her eyes open. She blinked, bringing her surroundings into focus.
The castle infirmary.
She had a vague memory of training, Keith had been talking to her. Telling her she didn't look good.
That had sucked. She had been so careful to act like nothing was wrong, but Keith had seen through it. She was disappointed that she hadn't been able to keep it together and then, what? Had she fainted? That was embarrassing.
Though, as she woke up, her embarrassment was replaced with how awful she felt; it was like the room was swirling around. She felt like she was sweating a lot too.
Maybe trying to pretend everything was fine wasn't the best course. Pidge glanced around, deciding she would maybe like to not be alone now. However, nobody was there.
She squashed down the disappointed feeling that sprung up.
Grow up.
Everyone was probably busy and she hadn't wanted everyone to treat her like a little kid anyway. It was better that they weren't there to see how miserable she was.
She had wanted them to leave her alone.
I want mom, dad, Matt...
Stupid, stupid scattered thoughts.
Pidge shut her eyes and turned her face into the thin pillow. She would just go back to sleep. Just go to sleep and not think anymore.
Coran bustled into the infirmary, chicken soup from Hunk in his hand. He set the container down on the side table, Pidge wouldn't be able to eat it, but Coran hadn't wanted to disappoint Hunk. He was on his way to the computer when he realized something was different.
Pidge had moved.
It didn't seem surprising under normal circumstances, but while the illness had run its course, the smallest member of the team had stayed incredibly still. She had been curled up on her right side for several days, but now she had tossed her blanket halfway to the floor and rolled onto her other side. Even in sleep, one hand clenched the pillow tightly in her fist. Coran saw the way the light caught her face and realized the shimmering streak near her eye was the slow dripping of tears, leaking out from underneath damp eyelashes.
"Are you awake, little one?" Coran whispered. She did not stir.
"A bad dream perhaps?" Coran tucked the blanket back around her small form. "It will be alright. You're going to be fine." Coran gently patted her shoulder and then moved away to the computer.
Time went on and Coran was sure to keep an eye on his young charge. Pidge didn’t move again for the rest of the day.
"Coran says Pidge can get out of quarantine today!" Lance shouted as he burst into Hunk's work area.
Hunk laughed. "I know. He said at dinner last night."
"We're having a party right? You're going to make something special for her, right?"
"Ah, that's kind of hard." Hunk absently shifted one of his tools back in place. "Pidge is picky."
"Peanut butter!" Lance slapped his hand down on the work table, sending a bolt rolling off the edge. "Sorry- Do we have peanut butter?"
"No-"
"Can you make some?"
"I- maybe?"
"Yes, I know you can do it. It'll be great." Lance clapped his friend on the shoulder.
Hunk laughed, but he felt his mind drift off. He had tried to make peanut butter early on, but it hadn't ended well. It had tasted like burnt egg nog. But Lance was looking at him with such confidence...
He would just have to try again.
They had nearly squashed Pidge when she stepped out of quarantine. Their exuberant group hug collapsed on one side when Lance leaned a little too far to the right. Keith would have escaped the fallout if Pidge hadn’t grabbed a hold of his arm in an attempt to save herself.
Shiro managed to slip out before the inevitable tumble to the floor. He was fast and knew when a situation was going pear shaped. Pidge covered up a wince with a laugh and a loud complaint about Lance elbowing her in the stomach.
Coran ended up being the one to push the pile of paladins off of her.
"Easy! She's still going to be sore."
The boys scrambled away, looking sheepish and worried. She hated that. After spending so much time maintaining her image of enduring strength, she got knocked down by some stupid space strep or whatever.
"I'm okay!" She insisted, but her voice didn't sound nearly as strong as she meant it to. She made a face as she realized her mouth felt like it was coated with mucus. Maybe it was. Being sick was gross.
She quickly took the water pouch Coran offered her and was relieved when it didn't have that metallic taste that their rations sometimes got.
"Hunk cooked!" Lance exclaimed. "I helped."
"Did you help or did he just tell you to stir one thing?" Pidge smirked.
Lance opened his mouth to argue, but then furrowed his brow.
"Lance helped," Hunk said with a smile and it made Pidge grin wide. She had missed them.
"Yeah, I was very helpful." Lance crossed his arms. "Do you want awesome food or not?"
"Awesome food," Pidge decided. They pulled her to her feet and she laughed, covering up the way her head swam.
She was fine.
There were several plates set in front of her and she was surprised to see the sandwiches closest to her.
"Hunk, did you make peanut butter and jelly?"
Hunk beamed. "Yeah, the texture might be a little off, but I finally found something that tastes enough like peanut butter."
Hunk went on and Pidge picked a sandwich from the stack. She hesitated, knowing Hunk was watching for her reaction. She didn't really like the scrutiny, but she knew that's just the way Hunk was.
She took a large bite and began to chew enthusiastically. The first thing she noticed was that the "peanut butter" wasn't the right texture at all.
Actually, the list of things she noticed ended there.
Because that was it.
Grainy slop was sitting on her tongue mixing with bread that was too hard. She tried to move the food back, towards her pharynx, but it stuck and all she could think of was sludge sitting on her tongue.
The gag was an accident.
Hunk looked mortified.
"Is she going to puke?" Lance was too loud next to her and she wanted to protest, but her mouth was filling with saliva and the food was mush, pressing into the roof of her mouth.
"Lance, move." Keith stretched himself across the table. He tipped over a bowl, emptying it of some alien fruit and then shoved the bowl under Pidge's chin.
She didn't throw up. She just spit everything out all at once. Lance had started to make some comment, but the words got stuck when Pidge gagged hard. She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head against the nausea.
“You’re okay,” Keith murmured. She didn’t know Keith could sound so concerned about someone else. Well, someone who wasn’t Shiro. She didn’t really like it. She was fine.
Always fine.
Shiro was at her shoulder and he was speaking quietly over her head, exchanging words with Coran. She suddenly recalled eating too much cake at Matt’s 10th birthday party and throwing it all up right before bed time. Her dad had been worried. Matt complained that she had puked on his slipper.
“Pidge?”
What a stupid thing to think about.
“Pidge, can you hear me?”
Pidge shook her head. She swallowed, breathed carefully through her nose before she tried to answer.
“I can hear.” She meant to sound more indignant, but it came out softly. She scrubbed a hand across her eyes, upsetting the glasses that sat perched on her nose. When she looked up, she realized the bowl had been put to the side, but Keith remained awkwardly leaned across the table. His elbow had upturned a bowl of vegetables, but he didn’t seem to notice the bit of space carrot sticking to his jacket. He was staring at her intensely. The way he sometimes stared at Shiro when the man was in danger.
“You’re okay,” he said again.
Ah.
He was worried about her.
Without her even being aware of it, Keith and her had become friends over the past few months.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Keith finally leaned back, his bright gaze gone, leaving her with the rest of the team who were all in varying stages of planning or panic.
It was chaotic and suddenly she felt that her head hurt and she didn't know what was going on. They were saying her name, asking what was happening. Shiro put a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly in her ear.
"Katie."
Mortified, she realized her eyes were beginning to sting.
"How about we go the infirmary?" Coran's voice sounded from above her. She stood quickly, sending her plate clattering further across the table. Without looking up at any of them, she let Shiro and Coran lead her out of the room.
The doors to the dining room shut behind her, cutting Hunk's apology short.
She should probably say something soon, something to put their minds at ease...
"Something is wrong with me." Not that.
"We'll talk about it in the infirmary." Coran patted her shoulder.
She shrugged him away without wanting to.
Side effects were only common if Rilamon stins was caught late.
Pidge didn't know why Coran kept saying that. Everyone knew they hadn't caught this early.
She had been feeling sick for so long that she couldn't even tell them when it had started. And now Coran was asking her so many questions about how she felt, what hurt, did she feel sick…
No, no, no.
"I just couldn't taste anything and it was like… it was like sludge. The texture, I mean. I don't like some textures. And since it didn't taste like anything, I just, I just gagged. I don't still feel sick."
"You couldn't taste anything?" Shiro repeated slowly. He shot a glance at Coran, worry furrowing his brow before it was quickly smoothed away.
"That's not a side effect I've heard of…" Coran tapped his chin and hummed. "But you are the first human to have Stins. Perhaps it has altered your sense of taste. I can run a few scans."
Coran started bustling around, explaining what he was doing. Pidge was startled by how familiar it felt. She didn't remember a lot of her time being sick, but Coran's continuous voice was a relief to her. A reminder that she wasn't actually alone.
Shiro set a hand on her elbow.
"Are you really feeling okay?"
"Yeah."
"I was worried about you."
"You don't need to worry about me, Shiro."
Shiro smiled. She knew he would worry anyway. That's the way he is.
Matt is the same way.
Pidge sighed. She really needed to get back to work. She hated the way her mind wandered when she wasn't actively doing something.
Shiro must have sensed something off because he squeezed her hand.
"I'm fine," she whispered immediately.
Always fine.