Forgiven & Forgotten

by 1.126.000

When a painful reminder of the past drives RED's Sniper to violence, the last person he expects to meet is a young Medic from BLU. The doctor is both patient and skilled, but wounds of memory and anger are not as easily healed as burns or broken bones, and there's something else. Something about the doctor himself. Something strange. And time is running out for them both.

1. Chapter 1

ATTENTION! This story contains descriptions of child abuse which occurred in the notorious children's homes of 1920 - 1970s Australia under care of members of the Roman Catholic Church. This content may be upsetting/triggering to some readers.

CHAPTER 1 (It's a short one. Longer chapters to follow.)

The first thing Sniper did that fateful day was take a morning piss and release the pressure that had made his post-orgasmic stupor so luxurious. The world outside was quiet and still. Hard to believe in just a few hours he'd be in the middle of an all-out war, sprinting for cover as the bombs fell and the screams rose up.

"PRIVATE!"

A frenzied pounding on the van door shattered the peace.

"You lazy sack of ass, I know you're in there! ANSWER ME!"

More pounding, this time hard enough that Sniper felt it through the floor. He wandered over to the bathroom mirror, angled his face there, decided to put off shaving for another day. He went to the closet, pulled on jeans and an undershirt.

"Insubordination!"

Insubordination, thought Sniper, and ran a hand through his hair. Whatever you say, mate.

"Open this door this instant OR THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!"

Sniper pulled on the familiar comfort of his boots and reached for his watch, his hand grasping nothing.

He looked over the countertop. Not there. He checked the bottom of the closet. Not there either.

Shit.

"I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT!"

The door rattled and shook in its frame.

The desk drawer? The gap behind the desk drawer? The gap behind the desk itself? Shit! Every pocket of every single pair of jeans he owned? He scoured the floor. Twice.

Nothing.

He stood, heart hammering. No one could see it. No one could know. No one. Not even Engie. Think, dammit.

A band-aid or gauze would do but that meant a visit to the dear doctor, and woe to the man who dared bother him before his morning coffee.

"UN-AMERICAN! UNCONSTITUTIONAL! AN OFFENSE AGAINST THE VERY FOUNDING PRINCIPLES OF THIS COUNTRY!"

Outside, the Great American Menace paced, his voice moving up and down the length of the van. "A DISGRACE!" he bellowed, raining blows down upon the door once more. "YOU BRING DISHONOR AND SHAME TO THIS TEAM!"

Oh, bugger this, thought Sniper. He marched to the door, braced himself and waited. And the second there was a break in the assault and the door went still Sniper toed the latch and struck out with a single brilliant kick that sent the assailant sprawling.

"Soldier!" he barked, glaring down at the American. "You EVER abuse my property like that again and it's me boot up your arse!"