A/N: Warning for some mentions of gore
When they met, she outranked him. It wasn't hard. He was a green recruit, fresh-faced and bible-thumping with ideals higher'n a pit of bodies Zoe had once clambered out of. He soaked up all the recruitment office's crap like a dirty sponge then went dripping it everywhere he landed. Zoe'd taken one look at him and judged him dead within the year. So she turned straight out of the mess hall after he launched a disarming smile her way, avoided him for two more days on the small Shadow outpost until her unit was reassigned to reinforce a battle elsewhere.
The second time she sees him, she doesn't realize it's the same man. Shadow's been smoking for years, and the fresh-faced recruit she'd seen once and purposefully forgotten has no similarities to the man who studies her hard-eyed but calm as she reports to his squadron. This man speaks to her with charismatic but tempered determination, commands loyalty with effortless grace, and is the love of the entire garrison. Zoe recognizes a good leader when she sees one, and a year later she's still one step behind him as they march into the valley of hell itself.