I am back with a new Rainbow Six: Siege! This one was nagging me for weeks so I followed the rabbit down the hole to produce this.
Please enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, just the plot.
Never Forgotten
Mike Baker reached across the table for the smaller hand, but it pulled away before he could even touch it. His green eyes watered as he gazed at the woman sitting across from him. "Please, love. Please understand."
"I do understand, Mike." said the woman softly. Hazel eyes were red from the amount of crying she had done. "But you promised me you would leave instead of re-enlisting."
"I know I did, love. But I cannot leave my unit right before deployment. Our nation is going to war with the Iraqis and they will need me." Mike replied. The blonde woman turned her head away, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief as she softly cried. "Please, Susie."
Mike felt his heart ache as his wife started to sob. "Every time you get deployed, Mike, I think you're never going to come back. This conflict with the Iraqis... It has me frightened, Mike. With your clearance level and your expertise, you will be a target."
"Susie, I will always come back to you. I will never leave you alone." Mike stood out of his chair and kneeled before the woman.
Susan shook her head. "No, Mike. I can not wait for you to come back. Not again."
Mike blinked, his jaw falling a little. "Susan. My dear Susan, please."
"No, Mike."
Mike awoke from his sleep, the faint light from sunrise peering into his room. He blinked away his bleariness as he sat up and shut off his alarm. It had been many years since that day. The Iran-Iraq war passed and Mike went home. Much like his dear Susan had promised, she was no longer there. Her belongings were gone. The only things she had left behind were the photos of herself. The man had spent many months trying to locate her, but to no avail. It was as though she fell off the face of the Earth.
He turned the light on in the latrine, knowing his comrades were not going to appreciate him waking them an hour early. Mike stood over the sink, running a hand through his greying hair. Why that memory continued to haunt him was beyond him. There was a gentle knock on the room door and he went to answer. Gilles Touré stood in the hall.
"Are you ready?" Gilles asked quietly.
"Just about." Mike slipped on his tennis shoes that he kept by the door. He left the room, shutting the door behind him as he and Gilles walked down the hall to head towards the gym.
"How was your sleep? Did the melatonin settle you down?" The French man asked.
Mike nodded as they walked. "They helped alright. I did not wake throughout the night."
"That is good." Gilles replied.
"And your night?"
Gilles chuckled in thought. "My son and grandchildren contacted me last night, wishing me a happy birthday. I cannot believe I am nearing my fifties."
"I am already there. Nothing changes." Mike said in light humor.
The two older men entered the small gym. Waiting for them was Vicente Souza. The Brazilian was by the stereo, going through the bag of CDs to select music for them to listen to.
"Bom Dia." Vicente greeted as the two men entered the gym. Gilles and Mike greeted him in return.
Mike decided to lift weights, positioning himself to face the mirror. As he began his repetitions, his mind began to wander.
His unit was back from deployment even if it was for a short time. He had been gone for about a year into the Iran-Iraq war. In reality, Mike was not ready to return home. After the second letter he had sent home, his dear Susan never replied. The bus he was riding home was a quiet one with little people. They spoke amongst each other, but none engaged Mike in a warm chit-chat on his commute home. The other passengers noticed his duffel bag with the flag of their country stitched onto it. He was a part of the nation's army.
Mike could only stare out the window as the bus slowly left the suburban area and into rural country. The grass was green, untouched by stains of war for many years. Concrete roads slowly turned to gravel and dirt. The passengers were jostled only lightly. Mike barely realized how quick they reached his drop off until he was standing with his duffel bag in hand. No one was there to pick him up. The walk to his home was not far for Mike. The sun was beginning to set so he had no choice, but to hurry before it got too dark.
He allowed himself into his home, closing the front door behind him and setting down the duffel bag. The house was quiet. The lights were off. Susan's favorite vanilla scented candles held no light. It smelled like no one had occupied the home in months. Mike restrained his tears as he walked through his home. It was still clean, his Susan hated filth, but the absence was present in the cobwebs decorating the corners. His feet carried him to the second floor of the small house, a hand pushing open their bedroom door. His bedroom door.
The bed was made, curtains tied to permit the light in from the disappearing sun. The bureau remained untouched. Mike fearfully grabbed one of Susan's drawers, unprepared for its contents. The drawer opened a small crack before Mike stumbled back into the bed, his heart squeezing within his chest.
Mike grunted painfully as he dropped the fifty pound dumbbell. His hand was trembling as pain flared around his wrist, daring himself not to move the joint around.
"Baker, are you alright?" Gilles asked as he slowed down his treadmill to a halt.
"I am going to leave here to see the doctor. I fear I may have hurt myself." Mike replied as he stood and made a move for the dumbbells beside him.
Vicente beat him to it. "Go see Doctor Kateb. I will put these away."
Mike nodded and made to leave the gym, partially cradling his injured wrist.
Gustave Kateb had just arrived in the medical ward, relieving the head medic of the graveyard shift. It was a slight surprise to see Mike entered the medical ward. Normally, he was used to seeing soldiers coming into medical for something to alleviate a nasty hangover.
"Ah, Baker. Bonjour." Gustave greeted.
"Top of the morning to you too, Doctor." Mike replied. "I need help of your expertise."
Gustave nodded, gesturing Mike to sit. "I assume you would like me to look over your wrist, oui? What kind of activity were you doing?"
"You are correct, Doctor. I was at the gym, lifting dumbbells with Touré and Souza." he held out his arm for the medic to look it over. Gustave told the Brit to tell him when it really hurt as he flexed the wrist, moving it in all directions. Mike mainly grunted painfully as it was manipulated.
"Which would you like first? Good news or bad news?" Gustave asked. Mike wanted the bad news. "Bad news, you will be wearing a brace for your wrist to recover. Good news, it is not broken. I will prescribe you medication for the pain and a wrist brace. I recommend icing your injury two times a day. I will have to administer a profile so you can properly rehabilitate your wrist to prevent a further injury."
"Whatever that needs to be done, Doctor."
Gustave nodded as he grabbed an ice pack for the other man. He wrangled the pack for several seconds, mixing the chemicals inside to create the cooling effect. Mike accepted it and placed it over his wrist as Gustave grabbed a brace and disappeared into the back office. Gustave did not take long as he came back out with the brace, medication, and a paper in hand.
"Ibuprofen, 800 milligrams. Three times a day after meals to battle the pain. Do not take these on an empty stomach. For the first week, wear the brace every day, all day. Take it off only to shower and ice it. The profile I am issuing you is for three weeks. Come back next week so that I can evaluate your wrist and make adjustments as I see fit." Gustave ordered.
Mike nodded in agreement.
He left the medical ward not long after, folding the new acquired profile and tucking it away. Mike returned to his room, palming open the door and seeing his comrades get dressed for the day. James Porter was the first to notice the brace and before he could ask, Mike beat him to it. "Weight lifting."
"Ah." James said before leaning over the end of his bed to tie his boots. "Do not let your age finally catch up to you, Baker."
"Quiet, you runt." Mike growled as he placed the inactivated ice packs on his beside table.
"If anyone is the runt, it's Markie." Seamus Cowden chippered in. Said man glared at Seamus before kicking his shin. "I was merely joke, lad. Take a joke."
"Coming from the man who wields a large hammer." Mark Chandar bit back. "Do you have something to say for yourself?"
Seamus began to formulate a response, but he quieted himself. "You are a smart runt."
"Enough teasing the youngster. At one point, you were his age." Mike scolded them gently as he pulled out his clothes from his bureau. He went to sit on his bed.
"Yes, father." Seamus mocked as he tucked his shirt into his cargo pants.
Mike received a letter during mail call with his comrades. It was uncommon for him to be receiving anything, but the name on the envelope made his heart stall.
Susan Baker
In a flurry, he ripped open the envelope. He pulled out the paper and Mike could almost smell vanilla coming from it. His eyes became captivated in her handwriting.
My Dearest Mikey,
I am in a safe place, I assure you of that. I do not know when you will receive this letter, but when you do, please listen. I had the fullest intention of never contacting you again. This sudden twist in event has left me with no choice. Mikey, my Dearest Mikey, I am to bear your child. I found out not too long ago and I consulted with several people here, and they convinced me to let you know. It is your right to know you have a little boy or little girl on their way. As you can see on this envelope, there is no return address. Just my name and your current station. I am keeping this token of your memory with me to cherish. The little boy or girl will know of their father, I will tell them of your story.
Your Beloved Wife,
Susan
Mike finished the letter and his eyes drifted back to the words 'I am to bear your child.' His wife conceived and she was not going to let him find them. The British man keened softly as his chest ached, setting down the letter beside him and grabbing tufts of hair. Near angry tears riveted from his eyes-
"Mike? Mike are you there?" Mark was waving his hand over the older man's eyes several times. He had gotten the response he wanted moments later, green eyes blinking as they focused.
"Hm? What?" Mike blinked as he straightened his posture.
Seamus was standing next to Mark. "You left us for a moment, Mike. Like you had gone to another world."
Mike shook his head as he pulled off his shoes and socks. "Nonsense. I am fine."
Seamus and Mark shared a subtle look. The youngest frowned, unconvinced. Regardless, he went back to putting on his other shoe. "If you need anyone to talk to, Mike, you know you have us."
"I told you, I am fine." the eldest growled softly, changing into cargo pants and t-shirt.
"No need for hostility, Mike." James scolded as he stood up from his bed. "Mark has not done anything to you to provoke anger."
Mike grumbled to himself for a moment, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. He sighed. "I apologize. I had a rough start today."
"Would you like to tell us about it?" James asked.
Mike shook his head. "No. Later, after I have placed food in my belly."
"I will hold you to that, Mike." James said as he slipped on his shoes.
The eldest Brit sighed once more as he finished changing. The SAS members filed out of the room and into the hall, heading towards the chow hall. Many of the other Rainbow members were either eating or still in the chow line.
Mike took notice in the newest recruits, two Japanese Specials Operations personnel. Jordan Trace took it upon himself to sponsor them for the week, showing them around their new surroundings. Word had it that Jordan and the female Japanese operative were once colleagues,and they were collaborating on a weapon akin to Jordan's breach charge. The end result was Yumiko Imagawa's special weapon.
Breakfast was composed of an omelet with diced green bell peppers, ham, onion, and a pinch of salt and pepper. Black unsweetened tea, fried bread, and sausage served as his drink and side meals. Due to his wrist having limited movement, Mike had to quickly figure out the least painful method to eat his meal. As Gustave had directed, upon finishing his meal, Mike downed a single pill of ibuprofen.
The SAS member had the fullest intention of spending the day in the simulations room, but due to his current incapacity, he would be unable to do so.
James followed the other man upon leaving the mess hall. He knew something was bothering their eldest member and he was not about to leave him to his own devices without a chance to let it off his chest. Mike knew he was being followed, pivoting on heel and causing the other to nearly trip to a sudden halt.
"What is it that you want?" Mike asked with a frown.
"I want you to tell me what has your knickers in a twist." James replied with a crossing of his arms.
"And why should I tell you anything? It isn't your business to know." Mike pivoted back in the direction he was headed and started walking again.
"Bollocks, mate. Something is bothering you." James proceeded to follow him, taking a larger stride to walk side by side with the other man. "You said you'd spill after you got food in your belly, so unless you have already thrown it all up, you have to tell me what's wrong."
Mike stopped, his good hand running through and grabbing a fistful of hair. "You want to know what's wrong?"
James nodded.
"My wife. That is what's wrong." Mike did not like how the word 'wife' sat on his tongue. He had not used the word in many years. James looked quite shocked. He had never known the man was ever married. That part of his story was always in the dark.
"What of her?" he asked, gently testing the waters.
"I dream of her every once in a while. She left me during the Iraq-Iran war and I haven't seen her since. All bloomin' morning, the past has been haunting me. I keep playing the scene over and over of when I arrived home and she wasn't there. And the worst of it?" Mike threw a hard glare at James. The other SAS member could see how much pain hid behind the older man's eyes. "The worst of it is that she has kept a son or daughter away from me."
James blinked, completely taken aback at the final detail. "What?"
"Exactly what you heard, mate. My wife left me at mid-deployment and told me that she was pregnant with my child. She never sent another letter my way since then." Mike growled, his voice near cracking. He tore away from James, marching angrily down the hall. "That is what's wrong."
"No way, mate." Seamus leaned over the chair's backside, listening to James as he finished the tale. "That's what has our old bloke upset?"
James nodded. "Right. You should have seen the poor man. This has been tearin' at him for God knows how many years."
"Let's help him." Mark chippered up. "Help him find his wife and child."
"Mike never mentioned her name. We don't know if the lass remarried." Seamus said towards the youngest member.
"It's got to be worth a try, mates. The old bloke needs this to finally settle down. It was never his fault. We took up arms and swore an oath to protect our country, and he would had never turned his back against it in a time of need. Let's not turn ours against him." Mark was persistent in the matter.
"Where do we start?" James asked.
"Old men talk to each other. We go to Gilles, see if he knows something of his wife." replied Mark.
Gilles was only slightly surprised when the three SAS members sought him out. The older man had just come out of a simulation and he was wiping down his shield and greasing the mechanisms that allowed him to extend the shield to full height.
"So our comrade is suffering because of what happened to him in the past? Am I understanding this correctly?" Gilles asked.
Mark nodded. "Yes, exactly. Which is why we are asking if Mike had ever mentioned his wife to you."
The Frenchman paused for a moment, thinking deeply. "I am not sure. A topic like that, if he has kept it hidden from you three, I do not think he ever mentioned it to me."
"No?"
Gilles shook his head. "None that I can recall. Je suis désolé. (I am sorry.)"
Mark briefly glanced towards his two standing comrades before getting up from his seat. "Thank you regardless, Gilles."
"Oui. If I hear anything of his wife, I will contact you." the older man said.
"We would greatly appreciate that."
The three British operators retreated in dismay. They walked down the hall, passing their comrades and other personnel.
James frowned deeply, his mind pondering as he remained deep in thought. Gilles was one of Mike's most trusting friends and not even he knew of the unknown wife.
"Do not look so defeated." Seamus told him with a gentle clap on the shoulder. "We will find out who the woman is. All this cannot be done in one day."
"You are right." James sighed. "I hope we can pull this off, mates. The old bloke needs it."
His comrades agreed.
Mike traced his finger along the photograph of his wife in her wedding gown. The photograph itself was worn from age and storage. He had kept it in his wallet, in a little slit right behind his ID. He could remember the day like it was yesterday; Mike was a young and excited lad, ready to marry the woman of his dreams. Their vows and promises, until death parted them.
If he every came to see her again, Mike would not know what to do. He had been upset, angry, distraught. Now after so long, those emotions were put away.
The man sighed, carefully tucking the photograph back into its place. "I still love you, Susie. Even though you broke my heart."