Ever since the mission in Spain and the Plaga parasite that almost overtook Ada, she’s been having nightmares. Usually you’re too asleep to even notice her whimpers for help in her sleep.

Tonight, you were awake. You’re busy reading before you can hear a small, quiet whimper from Ada. You brush it off before it repeats.

You put your book down, a hand to her shoulder before she jumps and sits up. Ada grabs your hand tightly before she realizes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers looking at her hand.