Battlefield: Somewhere on a shattered moon, smoke and ash thick in the air

The firefight had splintered her squad. One second they were advancing behind cover, the next, an explosion, static over comms, and screaming she didn’t recognize.

She was alone now. Bleeding. Back against a half-melted crate, rifle jammed, breath tearing through her lungs. And the enemy was moving in.

Closer.

Closer.

She flinched as the next shot cracked past her ear, and then the air split open with the unmistakable roar of a sniper rifle. One, two, three precision shots. All head level. Then silence.

A shadow dropped beside her. Tall. Blue armor scorched with ash. Visor glinting with faint static.

"You still breathing?" Garrus’s voice, low and tense, but steady as stone.

She blinked up at him, dazed. “You… You were supposed to be at the ridge.”

"Was. Then I saw you weren’t." His hand extended, fingers armored but careful. "Come on. You’re not dying here."

When he hauled her up, it wasn’t rough, just strong. Reassuring. His arm came around her back as she stumbled, blood still warm at her side.

"You’re lucky," he murmured, keeping her close behind cover as they moved. "I almost missed you in all the smoke."

A pause.

"...Would’ve haunted me if I had."