Drone Pony 8: Slightly Sick (Short)

"Commander, it's been some time since you've gone to town. Is everything alright?"

You roll over in bed, bringing yourself to look at PQ-1, who stands with her forelegs propped on the edge of your bed. She has no eyes to make contact with, so instead you just blankly look at the darkened visor area of her head.

"Commander?" she asks nervously, not used to silent responses.

You sigh, loudly, before turning back over in bed. Truth be told, you'd been feeling under the weather lately. Not wanting PQ-1 to worry, or tell any ponies in town, you'd told her you were just feeling a little lethargic, and needed to rest. She'd grown suspicious after a few days; A testament to her growing consciousness.
She'd kept her distance before, but today she'd got the gumption to question you directly. Why it mattered, exactly, your foggy mind couldn't quite remember. But for some reason, you wanted to keep her in the dark.
Seems that wouldn't be possible, now.

A gentle whirring from behind catches your attention, as well as the shifting of the bed indicating she's hopped up to join you.

"Commander, my IR sensors say you're extremely warm. This is consistent with a number of illnesses in my database."

So the jig is up.

"Alright, alright," you say, rolling back over to find PQ-1 less than a hand's span away, "Yeah, I'm sick."

"You should have told me sooner," PQ-1 says with emotion in her voice. Something that borders on scorn. "I have a database of a good number of common illnesses, and the best method in which to treat them! You could be better by now if-."

She suddenly stops, a louder, almost grating sound overtaking her normally gentle whirring.

"I'm sorry, Commander," she says softly, "It's not my place to question why you withheld this from me. That said, I insist on diagnosing you, so I can help you recover."

PQ-1 suddenly steps over you, straddling your body as you roll to the side and stare up at her. You sigh before nodding. Best to get this over with and make her feel better.

A typical checkup you'd get from any doctor ensues, though PQ-1 doesn't say anything until the very end, after you've shut your mouth and she's turned off the small flashlight installed in her visor.

"I think it's just a strain of the common flu," she says with relief, "And you have plenty of celery, mushrooms, and light broth in stock thanks to that sale a few weeks ago." PQ-1 smiles for the first time in a week, as far as you remember, "I can have you better in a couple days time, Commander. But you have to let me treat you."

You just sort of wave an acknowledgement at her. You just want to go back to sleep.
Your consciousness fades in and out for a few hours.

When you wake up, PQ-1 is prodding your face with a spoon held in her mouth.

"Enf ahp, hammander," she says.

You open your mouth to say "What," only to have the spoon thrust into your open mouth suddenly. You swallow the liquid on the spoon reflexively, feeling a warm, but not scorching hot, liquid slide down your throat. PQ-1 pulls her head back, withdrawing the spoon, as you cough lightly.

"'Ood," she says as she lowers the spoon into a bowl on a tray beside you, refilling the spoon. The process repeats, with less coughing this time, until the bowl is finally empty. You're not even sure what she just fed you, but your stomach feels a lot better and you suddenly feel rather...relaxed.

PQ-1 scoots the tray further to the side, before gently lowering herself onto you. She rests her head in the nook of your shoulder and neck, limbs gently laid out around your torso, as she slowly hums. Her body warms up similar to when she acted like a heat pad for you, and she gently squeezes your body in reassurance.

"I hope you're comfortable, Commander," she whispers, "Please, sleep as needed. I will be here for you."

You pat her on the head, softly, before leaning in and kissing her visor. You can't help yourself, it just feels like the right thing to do.
If PQ-1 Minds, she doesn't say it. If anything, she nuzzles her face against yours a little more before you drift into blissful slumber.


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"I really appreciate your care, PQ," you say, days later, after fully recovering, "I'm not sure why I tried to hide it from you, but...I shouldn't have."

"That's correct, Commander," PQ-1 says with a small grin, "I am here for you, as you have been there for me."

"So where exactly did you get instructions to care for a sick person? Or pony, I guess," you ask slowly.

"I read some books on the topic while in town not long before confronting you," she says softly, bashfully rubbing one foreleg with the other, "I had a...strange feeling about why you were in bed for so long. So I began to do research. Once I matched similarities in your condition with what I'd read, I knew what to do."

"What made you go out and look that up, exactly?"

"Because, Commander," PQ-1 says, looking up at you with an expression that says it should be obvious, "I love you."