Adora is unable to partake in a training session; the gang cover her.

Adora wasn't often sick. Not to the point where she needed time out of training and simulation runs. Sure, she occasionally battled a migraine, but some stolen painkillers and water would solve her problem long enough to put up her facade of steel again. Sometimes she'd get a real bad sickness; like the stomach flu. The squadron would be forced into isolation until either she got better, or they got better and were no longer contagious. But there was nothing you could do about the flu. All you had to do was keep drinking and eating and hope you didn't die in your sleep.

The medic would only come by once every five days to make sure they weren't getting any worse.

Oftentimes, Adora would soldier through it. Whatever she had to do to keep out of isolation, she would. Be it wearing fewer layers to play the sweat on her body off, taking pills to reduce the pains, or excusing herself to the lady's room to vomit quietly. Sometimes she'd even sneak off to the weaponry and vomit into a bush.

Why all the effort? However long you missed training, aside from the active puking days, you had to do double time for when you returned to training. Sometimes that would mean two obstacle courses on the back of each other, and then two swim lessons.

So when she failed to turn up to the simulation room one morning, Catra immediately feared the worst. "Hey, where's Adora?" Kyle whispered. Lonnie frowned as she faced the magicat. "I dunno, why are ya'll looking at me?" She hissed. Kyle whimpered and faced the front. Lonnie huffed. "You think the instructor ain't gone ask? C'mon Catra,"

Catra just hissed and turned her glare to the double steel doors. True to her question, the instructor immediately asked where Adora was. Catra gulped. "I'm not sure, sir. To my last knowledge, she was studying for the Force Captain's renewal exam,"

Damn, that lie just rolled right off.

The instructor hummed. "Well, wish her good luck from me. She's a good Force Captain. We cannot afford to lose her now,"

It took Catra several hours to locate her best friend, which surprised her. Usually, Adora was shit at hiding. She'd either leave her foot poking out, or her dumb hair poof would be visible. But no, there was no sign of her, at all. Not even in the offered Force Captain's bedroom she'd been given.

No less than twenty minutes before dinner, an odd smell assaulted her senses. Catra reluctantly followed it, tracing all the way to a... cupboard? She kicked the door open, wrinkling her nose. "Go 'way," Adora grumbled. Catra ignored her, stepped in, and shut the door. "What the hell's wrong with you?" She snapped. Adora ignored her and puked into a... bucket? Oh hell no.

"You're sick," Catra said. Adora mumbled as she spat. "You're seriously still trying to lie? Adora, can you even hear yourself right now? Because I certainly can!"

The blonde vomited again, crying softly to herself. "I don't even know how! I've eaten good, I've not overtrained," She sniffled. Catra wrinkled her nose. She wasn't great at emotions. Whenever somebody in the barracks was upset, Adora usually took charge to help them. She shifted. "Um... It just happens sometimes," Catra offered. "Some bozo probably brought it from a raid," She squatted down to be at eye level with the blonde. She placed her palm against Adora's head.

"You're burning up," She mumbled. "How long have you been sick like this?" Catra stood. Adora looked away, mumbling something under her breath. "I know I have better hearing than you, but I'm not that good," Catra teased gently. Adora didn't take the bait; clearing her throat instead. "Yesterday lunch," She whispered. Catra sighed loudly. She glanced at the clock. "What do you want me to tell them? They're gonna ask where you are at dinner,"

Adora gagged softly. "Don't say dinner," She clutched the bucket tightly. "I said you were studying earlier. Want me to stick with it?" Catra offered. Adora sniffed. "Please,"

Catra returned to the cupboard later that night, late enough to not draw suspicion. She halted in her steps as she rounded the corner. "What're you lot doing here?" She asked, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. Lonnie crossed her arms. "Same reason as you, kitty,"

Catra snarled. "Don't call me kitty," She said lowly. Before Lonnie was able to give a retort, Kyle cleared his throat. "We know Adora's sick. So we've brought her some stuff. Extra ration bars, bottles of water, blankets," The skinny boy's voice grew quieter with each word, his confidence audibly falling.

Catra sniffed as she pushed herself off the wall, stalking to the cupboard. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it," She made a reach for the stuff, blinking in shock when it was wrenched away. "Ha!" Lonnie scoffed. "You think we're gonna give this to you, so you can take the glory? I don't think so!"

Despite Catra hissing and snarling, Lonnie held firm.
So she relented.

It was a tight squeeze for them all, but they proved useful. Rogelio managed to get an old emergency sink working again, Lonnie disposed of the ruined bucket and brought back a new one, while Kyle made Adora a makeshift bed.

And Catra?

She held the blonde as she cried.
Whether from sickness or emotion, nobody knew... neither did they want to. Horde kids didn't do emotional ties... not at all.