Warnings for this chapter: minor descriptions of blood and poisioning (nothing too graphic though). This is a combined sick/injury fic, so all Langst lovers out there - you're in for a treat :D
Also, fun fact - I just realized Coran appears in all of the chapters in this series, except for the Pidge one XD what can I do, he's the closest thing they have to a doctor!
Coran hummed in content as he finished typing the last command into the cryopod's control panel. The screen bleeped and darkened for a tick, then came to life again, and the timer indicating when they pod would be opened again showed up. Four vargas from now.
Coran glanced at the pod's occupant and smiled fondly. For some reason, Number Three had a tendency to hop in one of these more often than the rest of the paladins; even Number Four, with all his recklessness and utter lack of fear, spent less time in there. Coran didn't think it was because Lance was a less skillful fighter as much as it was because of his burning desire to protect others, even if it meant literally throwing himself between them and the source of danger – just like he did during their first days on the castle, when he saved Coran from the explosion at the crystal room. It was one of the many reasons the old advisor has taken a special liking to the boy, even if he was careful not to let it show too much.
The reason for Lance's visit at the pod this time was a stab wound on his side. The paladins have been fighting all day to liberate a planet from the Galra's occupation, but the enemy's fleet was enormous and the five lions had a hard time keeping up with all the ships – to the point they weren't even able to form Voltron. Things got even more complicated when the blue lion took a direct hit that shut down all of her systems and made her crash-land on the rugged surface of the planet. Lance survived the crash in some miraculous way, but was forced to step out of his lion as a group of at least thirty Galran soldiers stormed in their direction, determined to capture both paladin and lion. Lance managed to hold his ground for a while thanks to his long-range bayard, but thirty soldiers were too much even for a talented sniper as him.
Coran, Allura and the other paladins could only listen in horror as the sound of human flesh being torn apart followed by Lance's agonized scream filled the comms.
Allura clutched the control pillars in fury, already ready to fly the castle straight into the planet's atmosphere and retrieve Lance and Blue before the Galra had them. But luckily Blue's protective instincts kicked in first, her systems suddenly coming back to life; she appeared in her hangar barely two dobashes later, opening her metal jaws to reveal a half-conscious, heavily bleeding blue paladin. The Galran soldier's sword had pierced his entire right side, from the belly to his middle back, and even in his dazed state he couldn't hold back a cry of pain as Allura and Coran hauled him onto a stretcher.
Once they finished prepping him for the pod and updated Shiro that he was in good hands, Allura decided to hop in Blue and head back to the planet to participate in the battle. And while Coran was more than anxious at the thought of her flying out there, completely exposed and far from the safety of the castle, he also knew that the other paladins had to use every help they could get; considering the overwhelming numbers of their enemy, being down a lion was simply not an option.
Coran glanced again at the timer and sighed. Four vargas were not a very long time; he had dealt with much severe injuries in the past. But he'd never had to wait out those vargas alone in the big, empty castle while the rest of his teammates were down on a foreign planet, risking their lives. He prayed with all his might they would be back soon; the silence, broken only by the mechanical buzz of the cryopods, nearly hurt his sensitive ears.
Coran chuckled humorlessly. He could actually use one of Lance's jokes right now. They weren't always funny or sophisticated, but they did do a great job in breaking the tension.
Figuring out he'd rather be on the bridge and watch the battle closely than sit here and stare at the paladin's still form, he turned on his heels and exited the infirmary. Lance was going to be fine. There was nothing Coran could do other than let the pod do its job. And besides, he had his tablet with him; it had a direct connection to the pod's control system, so if any malfunction was to occur – not that there was any reason for something like this to happen – he would be notified right away.
But he really had nothing to worry about. The castle might be more than ten thousand years old, but the only time there was a pod malfunction was when it was infected with Sendak's crystal.
Everything was going to be fine.
-X-
Coran has been on the bridge for nearly a varga now. The battle was still on, but no further hits or injuries on behalf of Team Voltron were reported, which was a small comfort. He was just about to call Shiro and ask for another status report when his tablet beeped loudly.
Coran unlocked the device's screen and his eyes widened in horror. The graphs indicating Lance's vitals, which had been glowing a placating shade of green until this very moment, were now flashing an angry red with the word "error" written all over the screen.
The advisor's heart stopped. What was the meaning of this? Had the castle been hit by one of the Galra's battleships? Impossible – Coran would have known if a blast hard enough to shut down the pods had rocked the castle.
Without thinking twice he sprinted all the way back to the infirmary, ignoring the ache in his legs – those old muscles weren't what they used to be – and burst inside just in time to see the door of Lance's pod open with a hiss, and the blue paladin tossed out like a sack of Gronderri fruit.
Coran gasped and lunged forward. He managed to wrap his arms around the boy's upper body, but he wasn't fast enough to stop the fall, so both paladin and advisor rolled to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. Coran let out a graceless "oof" as his back hit the cold floor, Lance sprawled on top of him like a dead weight.
"Number Three!" Coran exclaimed and carefully rose to a sitting position – oh sweet mother of Quiznack, his back was going to hurt tomorrow – shifting the boy in his arms so he could take a better look at him. Lance's face was white as a sheet and shining with sweat, which was definitely not something that was supposed to happen to someone who'd just spent a varga in cryofreeze. He moaned weakly at the sound of his name and opened his eyes groggily. Said eyes, which were usually such a pleasant shade of blue, were now pale and bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for ages.
"C… C'ran?.." he slurred, blinking owlishly. "W-what…" suddenly he hissed in pain and pressed his hand to his right side, squeezing his eyes shut. Coran lowered his gaze and winced as he realized the reddish hue of the cryosuit in this particular place.
"Hush, my boy," he said in the most soothing voice he could manage. "Everything is alright. Let's get you to a bed and run a quick scan, shall we?" He wrapped one arm around Lance's shoulders and planted the other one under the bend of his knees, hoisting him up with an audible grunt. This was definitely a job for Number One or Two, but right now they were busy fighting on another planet, so Coran had no choice but put his old bones to the task.
He walked to the closest bed and carefully deposited Lance on it, trying to stifle another grunt. Lance curled into himself as best as he could, shaking and clutching his injured side, and Coran's heart ached at the miserable sight. They boy looked even worse than he did before he entered the pod and that was not a good sign. Coran wasted no time activating the medical scanner, hoping beyond measure he'd get an answer soon because he couldn't stand another tick of watching Lance suffer so much.
His eyes skimmed through the numbers and diagrams and he wrinkled his forehead, frown deepening with every piece of data he deciphered. The scan showed frighteningly high levels of an unidentified toxin in Lance's blood, the kind that the cryopods were unable to treat. This was probably the reason the pod had ejected him – it was programmed to refuse treating anyone who had any trace of infection or parasite in their system; such things had to be rid of before the patient entered the pod, in order to avoid complications during the healing process of the physical wounds.
But how come the pod detected it only now? Lance had spent nearly a varga in there before the error message popped up; did the toxin take that long to effect? And how was Lance infected in the first place? For all Coran knew, the boy hadn't come in contact with any foreign substance or object during the battle other than the Galran soldier's sword.
Unless the blade itself was poisoned. Coran's fists clenched at his sides. The Galra were surely cruel enough to use that kind of weapon.
Well, no matter what had caused it, he had to find out exactly what kind of toxin it was and make an antidote. Considered how Lance's condition deteriorated in only one varga, time was of the essence.
A choked gagging sound cut off his train of thought and he turned his attention back to the patient in front of him. Lance has just rolled over to the far edge of the bed and vomited on the floor.
"Oh dear." Coran rushed to the paladin's side and smoothed back his sweaty bangs. He frowned at the heat radiating from his face – he was already experienced enough with human illnesses to know this was not a healthy temperature for this species. "There, there," he tried to sooth. "It's alright, Number Three. I'm here."
"What – " Lance shuddered, shaking even harder than before. "What's happening? Why…" his voice trailed off, too weak to even finish a sentence.
Coran sighed. "Your body seems to be infected with some sort of toxin. Can you tell me what you remember exactly from your encounter with the Galra? I know it might be a bit hard to focus right now, but this information is essential for me so I can help you."
Lance squinted his eyes. "I… Blue was down and then… a-all these soldiers came… I managed to take down five or six before this asshole s-s-stabbed me…" he hiccupped and turned his head again to the side, spitting some more bile. "Sorry," he whimpered. "I made a mess…"
"None of that," Coran chided, trying to keep his tone cheerful. It had to be the sword then. "It's nothing the good ol' Altean floor cleaner cannot handle! You should have seen what the mice had done in the laundry room two quintents ago. My back is still sore from mopping all that food goo off the walls!"
On a normal day, this remark would have probably gotten a shriek of laughter from the blue paladin; but right now Lance only curled tighter into himself, grabbing the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles went wide. "'m dizzy," he groaned. "And everything h-hurts."
The edges of Coran's moustache drooped down. "I know," he said solemnly. "But unfortunately I cannot put you back in the pod until the infection clears out." He glanced back at the scan screen, but the system was still searching for the exact type of the toxin. "In the meantime, let's just make you as comfortable as possible." His gaze fell on the spot where the cryosuit was stained red. "And dress this wound properly, too."
"The others…" Lance whispered as Coran approached a nearby closet to fetch some bandages and antiseptics.
"Down on the planet fighting, but they are all doing just fine," Coran said, hoping it was true – he hadn't heard anything from Shiro or Allura in a while, and he wasn't sure whether this was a good sign or not. "I suggest you don't burden yourself with worrying about them at the moment; let's just focus on making you better." The last thing Lance needed when he was so sick and disoriented was to fear for his friends' lives.
Despite Lance's uncooperative state, Coran didn't have a hard time peeling the upper part of the cryosuit off him, as it had zippers and openings in several places; however, the wound revealed beneath it did not look pretty and it took all he had to hold back a cringe. The bleeding was rather sluggish – at least the single varga Lance had spent at the pod helped with that - but the skin around it was swollen and painted an ugly shade of purple. Probably the poison.
The advisor inhaled sharply. "I'm going to have to put some antiseptic cream on this cut before I bandage it. You don't need to do anything – just try and lie as still as you can. But I must warn you, this is going to burn." Quite an understatement for someone who practically had his entire side sliced open like a Kwimzini cake.
Lance moaned weakly, which Coran took as a sign of consent. However, the moment the advisor touched his side with one ointment-covered finger he hissed in pain and tried to roll away, tears wallowing in his pale blue eyes.
"I am so sorry," Coran said sorrowfully. He pressed on Lance's shoulder with one hand to keep him in place while applying the ointment with his other hand, each spasm and whimper from the blue paladin like a knife in his heart.
"Not your fault," Lance whispered, even though the tears were already streaming freely down his flushed – has his fever grown even higher in such a short period of time? – cheeks. He looked even younger than he was like this.
They were all so young. Even Shiro, the oldest of the paladins, was way too young to have been through what he has. Coran's hand shook slightly as he reached for the bandages. They were children. They weren't supposed to fight an intergalactic war and get hurt and poisoned during battle, for Quiznak's sake.
A few agonizing dobashes later, just as Coran finished wrapping the bandages around Lance's torso – he had hoped the boy would pass out from the pain at some point, but the damn toxin seemed to force him awake – the screen behind him beeped. Coran turned to look at the results, and his knees grew weak for a moment from relief. The toxin was a rather nasty mixture of chemicals – developed exclusively by the Galra, how surprising – whose affects were indeed noticeable only about a varga after it entered the body; but it was also a familiar substance, and as Coran skimmed through the list of ingredients for the antidote he realized they had them all stored in the castle's lab.
He could save Lance's life.
Coran turned back to Lance. "I have the best of news, Number Three," he announced. "I have everything I need to clear out the toxin from your system right here at the castle. I just need to make a quick visit to the lab – fifteen dobashes at most – and then we can fix you up."
He expected Lance to be thrilled, but the boy's glazed over eyes widened in fear and he grabbed Coran's sleeve with surprising force. "D-don't go," he wheezed. "Please."
Coran's heart dropped. He'd completely forgotten it was only the two of them at the castle at the moment; if he left for the lab, Lance would stay here all by himself, hurt and sick and completely helpless.
But what else could he do? He had to go and make the antidote as soon as possible, otherwise Lance would… no, he didn't even dare think about this option. But the others were currently busy fighting an entire Galra fleet; he couldn't ask one of them to come back just to watch Lance when they were so much more needed out there.
He would have called the mice if he could, but he had no idea where they were – hopefully not making a mess in the laundry room again – and he didn't share the same telepathic bond Allura had with them.
Coran sighed. There was no other choice.
"I am so sorry, my dear boy," he said for the second time today. "But I must go and make the antidote; it is the only way to heal you up. I will not be long - I swear it on everything I hold dear in this universe."
Lance's grip around his sleeve loosened the slightest bit, but he still wasn't ready to let go. "I…" he shivered. "I know. But… I'm scared." He released a choke sob. "Sorry. It's stupid."
"It is not," Coran said gently. "You are in quite a scary situation here, after all. But I promise you will feel a whole lot better very soon." And before he could give it too much thought, he bent down and planted a kiss on the blue paladin's sweaty forehead. It seemed to marginally calm him down as he finally let his hand drop to the bed. Coran smiled and ran his fingers one more time through the disheveled brown hair.
"I'll be back before you know it," he promised and hurried out of the room, making sure his tablet was connected to the cryosuit's sensors so he could still watch Lance's vitals.
Once he got to the lab he was in such hurry he managed to break four tubes and one flask before the antidote was ready. Allura might frown upon it, but she'd surely understand once he explained to her what exactly was at stake at the time.
Barely ten dobashes later he stormed back into the infirmary, the vial with the antidote held firmly in his fist. Lance was in the same fetal position he left him in, not looking better but not worse either, although Coran's keen eyes did not miss a small, fresh pool of bile on the floor under the bed. He winced internally. It would probably be best to hook the boy up to some fluids before he'd be back in the pod.
Lance's eyes were closed, but they fluttered open once he heard footsteps approaching. Was it only Coran, or were they starting to get a bit yellow around the edges? They really had no time to waste. He reached the bed in a tick and opened his palm, revealing the vial.
"You'll have to drink all of it," he said. "I cannot guarantee its taste, though."
Lance sighed in surrender. "Can't be worse than Nunvil," he murmured.
"I will never understand the human loath of such a heavenly nectar," Coran said and carefully lifted Lance to a sitting position – the poor lad was so wrung out he practically laid across Coran's chest, breathing heavily. "Come on then. Let's get you healed up."
It took a bit of coaxing as Lance was barely able to stomach the liquid, but somehow they managed to empty the vial after a few dobashes. Coran cheered softly as he placed it aside and lowered Lance back to the bed. "Excellent job, Number Three," he exclaimed. "The antidote should take action in just a dobash or two. All we have to do is put some fluids back in you, and then off to the pod again - this time until you're truly healed up."
Lance blinked tiredly, eyes already gaining back some of their original, deep blue color. "Will you stay?" he asked in a small voice.
A wave of warmth spread through Coran's chest and he took Lance's thin hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Of course I'll stay, Number Thr – " he stopped and inhaled deeply. "Lance," he said, the name rolling pleasantly on his tongue. "I'm right here with you, Lance. I'm not going anywhere."
And just like he said, he stayed, holding Lance's hand and relishing in the comfort of his steady pulse, even after the blue paladin had long fallen into a peaceful, healing sleep.
I love Coran so much *melts*
Also, I just wanted to share that I finally started writing the sixth one-shot in this series. I plan on posting it as the next or after-next chapter, so I hope it won't take me too long to finish. I appreciate your patience and I'll aprreciate it even more if you leave a small comment on this chapter as well :D thank you!