You are dead, killed in the field of daisies, drawing the enemy's fire to yourself and allowing Roach to escape, to live a life for both of you.

Damn Shepard! How Roach hated him for this!

Sanderson stood in the field where you died. He could still hear your last words, how proud you were of him. He bent down, plucked a single flower, holding it carefully in his hands, as if it contained a piece of you.

Carefully pressing the flower to his chest, he whispered, "I will avenge you, my flower. He will die a terrible death. And you, please, be with me at that moment, I am doing this for you."