MINDING THE MEDIC

Marshall has always been seen as the go-to pup for illness and injury in Adventure Bay. Ever since his training as an EMT, his medical knowledge has proven invaluable many a time. But when Marshall himself is taken out of action by an illness and with Katie and the vet unavailable, one of the pups will have to step out of their comfort zone to find out what is wrong.

If there was one sight the Paw Patrol could count on to wake up to in the morning, it was the face of their leader gently shaking them awake. Chase was always an early-bird, fitting for perhaps the most duty-driven of the pups, and he always greeted his friends in the morning by waking them one by one. However, he'd always save Marshall for last. He was among one of the heaviest sleepers on the team, and he usually took the longest waking his clumsy, golden-hearted friend. And today looked to be no exception, as Chase tried to shake the spotted pup awake.

"Hey, Marshall. Marshall! Come on! Wake up!" Chase gently ordered. He wondered if Marshall had gotten enough sleep last night. It was taking slightly longer than usual to wake the dalmatian.

"U-uuuugggghhh… Urrrgh… Urk..."

Chase soon found himself getting his answer. Strangely, Marshall hadn't opened his eyes, or even moved. Instead, all he did was groan.

"Huh? Marshall?" Chase asked with concern. "Something up?"

"Argh…" Marshall's eyes opened very slowly, but upon registering Chase's presence, Marshall bolted backwards. "Ah- G-get back, Chase! Don't come… any… ugh..."

Marshall had groggily fallen back down onto the floor with an expression of pain, punctuating his fall with a few coughs. He looked far less exuberant than he usually did. His voice sounded nasal and scratchy, as if his nose was blocked up.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Chase started to grow worried. "Are you feeling OK?

"...no..." Marshall moaned hoarsely.

"Jeez, you sound really sick… What's going on?" Chase started to slowly approach Marshall.

"Ah, Chase! D-don't… don't come any closer!" Marshall shuffled backwards once more. "I… I don't want… you to… get… si-urgh..." He didn't get to complete his sentence as he curled up on the spot, feeling a sudden stab of pain in his stomach.

"Well, excuse me for being worried." Chase sassily retorted.

Chase moved in close to Marshall and laid a paw on the pup's white forehead, only to quickly yank it back with an expression of pain.

"Agh! Jeez, Marshall, you're burning up!" Chase yelped.

This wasn't looking good. Despite Marshall's forehead being hot enough to scorch the shepherd's paw, the dalmatian was shivering where he lay. It was clear as day that Marshall was feeling sick. And something told Chase that this wasn't just a garden variety cold. Chase internally panicked. Usually, Marshall was the first port of call for when one of them was unwell, but not once had any of them considered what might happen if their EMT was out of action.

"I'll call Ryder." Chase decided. "Just, y'know… Don't move."

"...ha." Marshall responded mirthlessly. Chase called for their leader on his Pup Tag. It took a few seconds, but eventually, Ryder answered.

"Hi, Chase." Ryder greeted cheerfully. "Everything OK?"

"No." Chase immediately replied. "Well, Marshall sure isn't. He looks really sick."

Chase could practically hear Ryder's sunny demeanour falter. "'Sick'? Uh-oh. How sick are we talking?"

"He's burning up. And it sounds like he can barely breathe or even talk."

"Oh, no…" Ryder mumbled, with worry clearly setting in for the boy. "Hold on, I'm coming!"

Chase had opened his mouth to answer, but found himself being interrupted by a loud retching noise. Turning his attention back to Marshall, he'd noticed that the spotted pup had gone wide-eyed. Chase barely had time to flatten himself against the wall of the Pup House as Marshall immediately shot out like a streak of white lightning.

"WHOA-!" Chase yelled. "You might wanna hurry! It looks Marshall's gonna-"

Chase couldn't complete his sentence, as Marshall essentially finished it for him. Sympathy and revulsion paralysed the shepherd as Marshall loudly emptied his stomach onto the floor, causing a horrendous splattering to echo around the Lookout.

"...puke..."

There was no denying it. Rather fittingly, Marshall was as sick as a dog. Not that the other pups needed to be told that. Marshall vomiting like a fire hose had inevitably caught their attention, and when they came to investigate, it took everything in their power to stop them from joining in. It was worse for Rubble, who was tasked with finding sand to throw over the pool of vomit. As if the day needed to be made any more surreal for the pups, Rubble was disgusted enough to decline breakfast altogether.

Ryder had placed Marshall in a dark red pet bed in the Lookout, while also giving the pup his teddy and draping a flame-patterned blanket over him, setting a bowl of water nearby, along with a pail in case he had to throw up again. As grateful as he was, Marshall looked and felt absolutely miserable. His head hurt, his body ached, his throat was burning, his stomach was bubbling like a volcano and his nose was completely blocked. As if to punctuate how he felt, Marshall struggled to sniff before coughing roughly. The pups and Ryder stood at the other side of the Lookout as Ryder briefed them on what was going on.

"Well, pups." Ryder began. "It looks like you'll have to stay away from Marshall for a little while."

"What's he got, anyway?" Rubble asked.

"I don't know." Ryder replied. "But we know it's more than just a puppy cold."

"Where the heck could he have got something like that?" Zuma added, looking perplexed. "No-one in Adventuwe Bay's that sick, wight?"

"Barkingburg, maybe?" Rocky suggested. "Remember that we had to watch over the parade a week ago. Remember how many people were there?"

"Oh, yeah…" Skye realised, remembering that a gathering of that many people would more or less be a giant petri dish. "All kinds of people were there. Sweetie, too."

"Well, of course." Chase dryly replied. "Anyway, can't we take Marshall to Katie? Maybe she'd know?"

Ryder's haggard-looking face turned to one of annoyance. "That was my first thought, but er, heh heh…" he chuckled humourlessly. "She's out of town and won't be back for another week..."

The pups emitted a collective groan of annoyance. "Great. Just great." Chase spat. "Because the only other one who can figure what's wrong with Marshall is Marshall himself. And that pup's not in much of a condition to work!"

"I guess we'll have to take him to the vet, right?" Skye asked.

Ryder sighed heftily. "I wish it was that simple. He's been really busy lately. If he can fit Marshall in, it probably won't be for another couple of days."

Now the annoyance had turned to worry. The pups whined at the realisation that their options had very quickly dried up at the worst time. Everyone started to turn their minds to how they could find out exactly what was wrong with Marshall and how they could take care of him, but as much as they struggled, nobody could come up with anything. Marshall however, for his part, already had an idea, and he wasn't about to let an illness silence him.

"Guys..." Marshall scratchily whispered as loudly as he could. He didn't want to admit how much strength it took just to do that.

"Marshall?" Chase asked, whipping around to look at him with the other pups. "You shouldn't be talking! You need to rest your throat!"

"If… one of you… could get my… EMT… pack… I could… show you… what you need… to do." Marshall strained to finish his sentence.

"No way, Marshall!" Ryder immediately shot back in concern. "The last thing you need right now is work! We'll think of something!"

"You… don't have a choice… I can diagnose… myself… no problem. It'll be… way quicker..."

"But Mawshall, even if we did that, none of us know what we're doing!" Zuma complained. "You'we the EMT hewe, not us!"

"I'll… teach you… Sorry, but… my mind's made up…" Marshall had put his foot down. "Sick or not, I'm… doing this..."

"(Ugh, stubborn pup...)" Chase thought resignedly with a sigh.

When Marshall set his mind to something, changing it was nigh-impossible. Not even illness and injury could convince him to give up on a job. Chase frequently received complaints of being stubborn, but if there was another pup that complaint could be directed at, it was Marshall.

"I'll do it." Chase declared, much to everyone else's shock.

"Huh? Chase?" Rubble asked as everyone whipped around to look at the shepherd.

"That pup's looked after me when I've gotten sick before. Time to pay the piper."

"But, Chase, Marshall looks after all of us when we get sick!" Rocky retorted.

"All the more reason we need to pay him back, right?" Chase replied. "Besides, you know me, I like learning new things."

"But if you get close to Marshall then… you might get sick." Skye posited worriedly.

"Too late for that. I already touched his forehead." Chase said with a shrug. "But if me getting sick means we find out what's wrong with Marshall, then that's just how it is."

"But what if you get taken out too, dude? I'm not suwe we could take on wescues with you both gone." Zuma added.

Chase opened his mouth to reply, but as much as he was loathe to admit it, he couldn't counter the labrador's point. Particularly in the case of a big rescue, it was always himself and Marshall. One pup they might be able to cover for the absence of, but two? That would very likely be a strain on their resources. Still, Chase gave a defiant look to Zuma, and directed that same look to Ryder, who was listening intently, attempting to make up his mind as to whether to grant Chase's request or not.

"Chase, I..." Ryder began, before being cut off by the timely bleeping of his Pup Pad, prompting the boy to let off a quiet, irritated snarl at being unable to give his say in the matter.

"Guess I win." Chase remarked with a shrug.

Ryder took a little while to give an answer. "...do what you have to. We'll talk about this later. And BE. CAREFUL." he commanded sternly, clearly unhappy at being unable to even monitor the situation.

"Don't worry about me, Ryder, sir." Chase replied with a confident smirk. "I got this."

Before Ryder answered his Pup Pad, Chase ran to the elevator and had ascended out of sight. Marshall listened for a little while before trying to rest his eyes. Humdinger's kittens were apparently causing trouble around Adventure Bay again. It was probably going to be more of a trial without their police pup, but at least Chase's allergies weren't going to cause him too much trouble.

Marshall eventually opened his eyes again when he heard another noise. This time the door had opened to reveal Chase walking towards him dressed in Marshall's EMT cap, Pup Pack and slightly-undersized red vest.

"Hey, check it out, Marshall!" Chase declared. "Doctor Chase is on the case!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha…" Marshall chuckled weakly. "You… you look good in red, actually..."

Chase gave a warm smile, happy that he was at least able to bring some light back to his sick and miserable friend.

"Well, your gear is a little tight in the chest… But there'll be time to do my turn on the pupwalk later. The sooner we can figure out what's wrong with you, the sooner you can go back to sleep."

"I'll… try..." Marshall groaned, giving another futile, blocked-up sniff.

"Just stay with me, Marshall. It'll all work out. What should I do first?"

"Well… I always start with someone's temperature. Just put the thermometer… in my mouth for a few seconds."

"Right. Ruff! Thermometer!"

At Chase's command, an arm sprang forth from the Pack holding a small, glass thermometer. Chase walked closer to the ailing pup, the arm moving closer to Marshall's mouth.

"Open wide." Chase instructed.

"Aaaaaah."

Marshall bit down on the thermometer that had been inserted into his mouth. And after about five seconds, he looked at the expectant Chase and nodded, prompting the shepherd to retract the arm and bring the thermometer close to his eyes. The shepherd squinted at where the red line stopped, before his eyes shot back open in fright.

"...whoa! 104!" Chase yelled. "That's… er, that's bad, right?" Chase deflated partway through when he realised he didn't actually know what he was saying.

"Whoa…" Marshall groaned. "Yep, that's a temperature… I thought it was flu to start with… and this isn't changing my mind..."

Chase's stomach dropped. "Flu? Oh, no. What do we do for that?"

"One thing at a time, Chase… Next would be the X-ray screen."

Chase shook off his worry for the time being. "Yeah?"

"Normally I'd… use it to check for… broken bones… but it has a muscle scanner, too… Might show me… why I'm so achey..."

"OK… Ruff! X-ray screen!" Chase barked out his tool of choice, and Marshall's screen extended forth, switching on to show the dalmatian's skeleton.

"Muscle scanner!" Chase commanded.

The screen changed before Chase's eyes. Now instead of a skeleton, an incomprehensible mass of glowing shapes filled in the Marshall-shaped outline on the screen. Some glowed green, but Chase couldn't help but notice the pink and red blotches in various places. Chase shifted back and forth to get a better view of Marshall's various muscles.

"OK, I have no idea what I'm looking at, here…" Chase conceded. "Some of these are… pink?"

"What's pink exactly?" Marshall asked dizzily, his body starting to give out.

"Well, the top of your back, your back legs and your head…" Chase half-mumbled, leering at the screen. "The front of your neck's a little pink, too..."

"Oh yeah, those ache… Those pink parts are where something's wrong… And my throat's sore, so that explains my neck..." Marshall explained. "Anything else?"

"You'll have to tell me. There's something near your nose that's totally red..."

"Closed up, probably..." Marshall sniffed and coughed.

"And your stomach is red, too."

"Nausea..."

To Marshall, all of the warning signs were there. Now he was certain that he'd picked up flu. Worse is that his body was starting to run on fumes. He laid his head down and squeezed his teddy as he struggled to stay conscious.

"So, Marshall. What do you think?" Chase asked as the screen returned to the red Pup Pack.

"...urrrgh..." Marshall groaned heavily.

"Marshall? C'mon, pal, stay with me!"

"...ugh… So… tired..."

"Don't fall asleep yet! I still need to know what to do!"

Marshall grumbled. "...you've done… most of the work… It's gotta be… flu..."

"How do you know?"

"Fatigue… Sore throat… High temperature… Muscle aches… Can't breathe… And nausea on the side… All flu symptoms..."

"There's gotta be medicine for it… right?"

Chase asked a question, but Marshall didn't answer it. He'd curled up tightly, only to emit a soft, if audible retch. In a flash, Marshall shot over to the pail close to his bed, flinging the blanket off of himself. He leaned over the pail and once again, started to vomit.

"Oh, no! Ewwwwwwww! Urgh..." Chase cried out as Marshall ran to the pail, before sympathetically cringing in disgust again as he was forced to listen to Marshall voiding his stomach for the second time.

After the second lot of unpleasantness that day, Chase had helped his friend wobble back to bed, and tucked him in once more. Chase had pushed the water bowl over to Marshall to allow him to take a drink to wash the taste of vomit from his mouth. Soon, Marshall lay listlessly in the bed once more.

"You OK?" Chase asked. "Well, I mean, I guess not, but..."

"...the only medicine that'll help right now… is that… stomach medicine I give everyone when they get… sick..." Marshall groaned hoarsely, apparently trying to shrug off his recent vomiting fit.

"That slop, huh?" Chase asked with a note of sympathy. "Guess now you'll know how it feels."

"Nah, I've… medicated myself before… but that doesn't make it… taste any better." Marshall cringed at the thought of having to settle his own stomach with his disgusting medicine. "Look in my ambulance for… Pepictate… That's what I give you..."

"Prepare your tastebuds, Marshall. This won't be pretty..."

Chase had run out of the door to Marshall's Pup House. If there was one thing that could be said about Marshall's medicine, it's that it was beyond disgusting. Every time he had to administer anything to any of the pups, he ended up reducing them to retching, spluttering wrecks, with Rubble even describing the taste as similar to the stinkiest garbage around. Marshall sorely regretted the day when he first had to self-medicate when he found himself with a stubborn cough. Still, no-one could deny that it worked. But before Marshall could reflect further on the nature of his vile medicine, Chase returned with a bottle filled with a thick, pale pink liquid.

"Found it." Chase said, setting the bottle on the ground.

"...OK… well…" Marshall groaned hesitantly. "...take out the syringe… fill it up and… then push it into my mouth…"

"Ruff! Syringe!"

Chase decided not to waste any time as the syringe came forth, along with a second arm that uncapped the bottle, releasing a pungent smell of chemicals. The second arm moved aside, allowing the arm with the syringe to place it into the bottle.

"Plunger up!"

At Chase's command, the plunger of the syringe moved up, slowly filling the container with the thick liquid. As it finished filling, Marshall cringed. He tried to brace his tastebuds, but he knew that no amount of prep would save him from the awful taste. The second arm on the red Pup Pack recapped the bottle, and Chase moved towards Marshall, the syringe moving close to the dalmatian's mouth.

"Here it comes." Chase warned. Despite this, Marshall kept his mouth firmly closed.

"C'mon, Marshall." Chase added firmly. "Don't be a baby, now."

Marshall sighed. "Ulp… Ahhh..." Slowly, regretfully, Marshall opened his mouth again, closing it as Chase moved the syringe into his mouth.

"Plunger down."

"Gmph… Mmph, ulp… Ulp…"

With his eyes squeezed shut, Marshall tried to swallow back the repulsive liquid as quickly as he could, but it didn't seem to matter. It just kept on coming, flooding his mouth over and over. It felt like an eternity to the dalmatian. Eventually, the liquid stopped coming, and Chase removed the syringe from Marshall's mouth.

Mmph! Gh- Khahck! BLEEEEEEEEEECCCCCHHHH!" Marshall screeched, shaking his head around and diving for his water bowl, lapping like his life depended on it.

"Urgh, it never gets any easier!" Marshall growled after catching his breath from frantically lapping up water, barely noticing Chase giggling at Marshall's reaction.

"What? Taking it or giving it?"

"Yes."

That one word was all it took for Chase to burst out laughing. His reaction to the medicine was funny enough, but even when sick, Marshall still had a degree of sass to him. The syringe reentered the Pup Pack as Chase's laughter slowed down.

"Sorry, but that was kinda funny…" Chase sighed, moving a paw to his eye to wipe away a tear. "Plus, we're not on the receiving end of your gross medicine, for once!"

No reply. Marshall had returned to the bed and laid down under the blanket, still holding his teddy.

"So, uhh… We done here?" Chase asked, moving around to look Marshall in the eye. But when Chase got to look Marshall in the face, he saw that Marshall had finally given out, lying fast asleep in the bed.

"I'll take that as a yes." Chase quietly conceded. "Get some of your strength back, Marshall. I'll be back later."

Chase had decided to leave Marshall to sleep for a while. He sorely needed it, after all. He took the bottle of medication in his mouth once more, and headed for the door. Though as he walked outside, he saw the pups returning from their most recent mission, with Zuma leading the pack driving Chase's truck. The sight made Chase grin, thanks to his vest hanging shabbily off of Zuma's smaller frame and his hat drifting over the labrador's eyes. As Zuma turned off to park the truck, he caught sight of the shepherd in red.

"Hey, Chase! Nice outfit!"

"Same to you!"

A couple of hours later, Marshall was hearing voices. He wondered if he was just having a fever dream, but then he realised that he was actually awake, as he strained to open one of his eyes slightly. The first thing he saw was the pups all standing together a short distance from his bed, with Ryder stood behind them, and Chase still wearing Marshall's EMT gear. None of them had seemed to notice him waking up, as they were all looking at one another, deep in conversation.

"He doesn't look any different..." Rubble said.

"Rubble, you don't get over the flu in a couple of hours. You know that." Chase replied.

"I just don't want him to get worse..." Rubble said sadly.

"He just needs west, wight?" Zuma asked.

"And to drink a lot of water." Rocky added.

"And to not spread my germs..." Marshall croaked. Everyone quickly turned their attention to him upon hearing his voice.

"Marshall? You feeling OK?" Skye asked gently.

"...well, no…" Marshall replied hoarsely.

"But are you any better?"

"...urgh..."

"Pups, I think Marshall needs to be alone with Chase for a while. I'll catch up later." Ryder instructed. The pups all looked towards him, nodded, and took their leave once more.

To the best of his ability, Marshall let out a sad whine when he was sure the pups had all left. Sympathetically, Ryder kneeled down in front of the bed and scooped Marshall into his arms, keeping him bundled up in the blanket and holding him close, rubbing the back of the pup's head.

"Oh, Marshall…" Ryder whispered with a hint of guilt. "I'm sorry I haven't been around, lately..."

"I… hate this…" Marshall whined. "Ryder… I… feel terrible..."

"You're one sick pup, huh? I called the vet earlier, but you'll have to hang in there until the day after tomorrow."

Both Chase and Ryder hated to see one of the pups so sick. It was worse that they had to wait for him to be properly looked at. Chase could only whine sadly.

"I'm sorry if I haven't done a good job, Marshall..." Chase whimpered. Hearing Chase's apology caused Marshall to turn in his direction, while not taking his head off of Ryder's chest.

"What are you… talking about?" Marshall croaked. "Chase, for a first time… that was… pretty good..."

"Yeah, only because I had you watching out for me."

"But you still handled my Pup Pack like a natural… You know, you'd make a pretty good EMT..."

Chase perked up in response. "You… think so?" he asked, amazed.

"Yeah, maybe… if you got some training, then… you could be our backup EMT..."

A backup EMT would definitely be useful, considering that theirs just ended up taken out. And to Marshall, Chase proved nicely that he had what it takes. The shepherd was touched. Despite his own doubts, he'd done very well in Marshall's eyes.

"...Marshall… thank you…" Chase whispered, a big smile creeping across this face. "That means a lot coming from you."

"...Ryder?" Marshall asked, looking up at the boy.

"I'll think about it." Ryder replied thoughtfully. He had to admit, the idea had merit. "Looks like you had a pretty good teacher, huh, Chase?"

"Yep!" Chase replied, more cheerfully than he had in a long while. "I'm amazed Marshall managed it with the flu!"

"You both did great work today!" Ryder praised the pair. "You're both such good pups!"

From that moment on, things had started improving. Marshall's condition hadn't improved any in three days, but perhaps hearteningly, it hadn't worsened either. Marshall frequently complained of being bored, but then being stuck in bed wasn't exactly good for a young dalmatian anyway. But the other pups did what they could to make sure Marshall's spirits stayed up, from watching TV with him, to telling stories of their rescues, and even going through some photo albums with him. And Chase and Ryder, for their parts, did their best to make sure Marshall was comfortable and checked him over frequently. If there was one thing that Marshall could be happy about, it was having such good friends. Though he could've done without Chase's repeated doses of disgusting medicine.

The vet had basically confirmed Marshall and Chase's combined diagnosis of flu. He gave the group some pills for Marshall to take to help ward off the symptoms, but warned that Marshall would need some more time in bed, much to the dalmatian's chagrin. But it only took a couple more days for Marshall to start feeling slightly better, even if he was told to stay in bed. But as the fifth day of Marshall's illness had dawned, he woke up to see something out of the ordinary. An extra, dark blue pet bed had been set up next to him, occupied by a listless-looking german shepherd with a star-patterned blanket draped over him, clutching Officer Bear close to him.

"Chase?" Marshall mumbled.

Chase stirred in bed, slowly craning his head towards the dalmatian. "...how's it hanging, Marshall?" he croaked with a rueful smile.

"Oh, no… not you too..."

"Yep… me too…"

Marshall groaned. He knew this would happen from the moment Chase started taking care of him.

"Had a feeling… this might happen..." Marshall groaned.

"So did I…" Chase whispered hoarsely. "...but it was worth it..."

Even when he ran the risk of getting sick, even when he'd been warned of the risks, Chase would still walk over hot coals for his friends. Marshall smiled widely as a single thought ran through his head.

"(Stubborn pup...)"

And here we have one of the lighter fics out of the way in this collection. It's funny, I've wanted to write a sick fic about Marshall for quite a while, but I was hung up on what illness to give him. I was initially thinking a generic stomach virus, until I returned from the trip I took abroad with something similar to the flu and decided "Right, that's what I'm giving him". Let me tell you, it wasn't pretty. Plus, it would be an interesting opportunity for Marshall to coach a pup stepping out of their comfort zone.

Anyway, next fic is back to the heavy territory. I feel like they REALLY start getting good from this point onwards. Without further ado, thanks for listening, and here's the description for you.

BOILING OVER

Marshall has long been known for his ability to take misfortune in his stride. But even he has his limits, and one particularly bad day causes him to lash out in spectacular fashion after being pushed beyond those limits. Now Chase has to to not only find the straw that broke the pup's back, but help to repair Marshall's crushed spirits.