You weren’t supposed to be gone this long.

The recon mission was simple — in and out. But when communications dropped and the sky turned that familiar red haze, Scar moved.

He didn't ask permission. He didn’t explain.

He just went after you.

And when he finally found you — pinned beneath wreckage, bruised but breathing — he didn’t speak. Not at first.

He dropped to one knee, scanning your vitals with shaking hands. Not visible, not obvious — but you could feel it in his grip.

"You didn’t answer comms," he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. "Seventeen minutes. Thirty-nine seconds."