Ask Coruscant For Old Times' Sake

Vera Coulter

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If she had to stay one more hour in this kriffin' hospital bed, she'd find a way to shoot herself out of it.

Hell. Others were hurt more than her. So she got some burns, no big deal. And... and... she wasn't gonna look down. For the last two days, she had stoically looked away from the brief abbreviated stump where her right leg had been. Refused to acknowledge it actually happened. That some console hadn't sliced into her leg, that she wasn't rescued by some damned kid. She still saved the hard drive copies of the files. Never let them out of her sight. But while nurses came and went, chattering inanely and doctors droned on in their disgusting small words, she felt her anger bubbling, boiling to an uncomfortable pitch.

This place felt karkin' stale, and she was in dire need of cigaras.

However, her thoughts were interrupted by a flash of white in her field of vision and she tensed, gritting her teeth. The nurse beamed at her with that same self-gratifying smirk she always did, her voice a disgustingly sugary coo. Or so it sounded to her. "Ranger Coulter, you have a visitor," she began, but Vera scowled, twisting her head away.
"Tell them to go away. And kark off," she hissed under her breath, but the woman acted as though she didn't hear her, breezing out of the room without even looking at her.

She swallowed hard, staring at the wall in front of her. No one should see her like this... she was a shame to her badge. Crippled. A damned failure. No, no one should see this.


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Max had heard about Vera's injuries belatedly.

He had been busy being de-briefed after his time on Dathomir and the Order had seen fit to restrict his access to the wider Galaxy until they could confirm, to the best of their abilities, that he had not been compromised by the potion he had drunk more than the initial interaction. Max could have told them that he was fine but it tended to help people see for themselves that you were fine. Just saying that you were fine got you ignored at best and, at worst, viewed with yet more suspicion.

Still, that fact that Vera was still in hospital after he had been chewed out the other side of the Order's vetting process meant something and it was something bad. Virtually nothing he knew of had managed to keep Vera down in the past so either she was finally acting their age or she was hurt worse than she wanted to admit in the brief message he'd been given.

Making his way past a strangely smug-looking nurse, Max entered the hospital room of his... friend? She was definitely that but they'd crossed a few lines that friends didn't typically cross so it was kind of a murky area. He looked her over for a moment, a bunch of flowers in hand, before he stepped into the room properly and set the flowers in some water.

All without a word.

When the flowers were ready he turned to look at her for a moment before smirking ever so slightly.

"You look miserable as shit."


His smirk grew a little bit wider.

"Brought you some Corellian brandy too but for that you gotta do me a favor, alright?"
he gestured with his head, "Come on. Follow me up to the roof and we'll have brandy and cigars."

She'd been wallowing for too long - he'd felt it on the Force like a bad taste.


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Vera Coulter

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At seeing Max, her jaw hardened and blue eyes went icy. How dare he just stroll in here, smirking as though nothing was wrong. Nostrils flared, fists clenched into the bedding. And then he mentioned her following him up the stairs, and something inside just snapped. She couldn't reach for anything much, but there was an empty pudding cup there.

She slung it at him with all her might, tears pricking her eyes.

"I can't karking walk," she seethed, glaring him down. "Can't go anywhere, had to get my ass saved from some smug little kid," she snarled. With each word, the heart monitor began to spike, as her chest shuddered with each breath, and she stared him down. She wasn't gonna toss the vase of flowers; they were nice. But she couldn't control it; the anger, the fear was rising to a crescendo as all of it just came slamming back into her memory at seeing Max. Max.

"Cip..." she whispered raggedly, and the anger started to melt, abate. But the fear, the terror remained. She would remember that face for the rest of her life, the red eyes. "Karking hell. This place is a goddamned prison; I stay here any longer and I might just strangle that smug little wench," she jerked her chin at the doorway, "With an IV line. Have the kriffin' audacity to tell me everything's fine, and it's not!" she barked out, then let out a shuddery breath.

She just couldn't calm down, everything was out of her control and she couldn't help but feel like everything was falling apart in her own little world.


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Max deftly dodged the empty pudding cup because, well, he couldn't really call himself a Jedi if he wasn't able to dodge inbound desserts now could he? He eyed the pudding cup with some small measure of amusement as it hit the wall behind him before turning back to her. She wanted to have a bit of a rant didn't she? Well Max wasn't going to be the one to stand in the way of her ranting and raving.

She could rant for days he knew well enough so he just stood there with his hands in his pockets and let her get it all out of her system. It wasn't going to go away just because she'd had a good old rant and the beginnings of a cry but it tended to help. Max popped one of the cigars into his mouth and just held it there for a few moments while he let her calm down a little bit.

"You done?"


He rolled the cigar around with his teeth before spitting out the end he had bitten off to prepare it for actual use as a cigar. Taking it from his mouth, he pointed to her.

"No - shut up, I'm talking now."
he told her bluntly in a manner usually reserved for dealing with stupid criminals... or old friends who needed to pull themselves out of the pit they found themselves in, "Did the Sith take your spine as well as your leg? Or did you check that at the door so you could start taking early retirement money?"

Max wasn't usually 'the bad cop' but he knew Vera well enough to know that the gruff older woman didn't respond well to being coddled. When she came down, when she found the steel in her spine again, he would give her a hug when she needed it. Right now she didn't need a hug, she needed a kick up the arse.

"If you don't get up out of that bed with your crutches in the next five seconds, I'm going to sling you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Five."



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What he first said immediately snapped her from tears. Her face flushed, nostrils flared, and she was about to bark out at him when he imterrupted her again. Blue eyes snapped, and if looks could kill, he would have been a pile of smoldering ashes right where he stood. Almost immediately she leaned forward scowling, breath spiking in her chest. But nothing witty was coming to mind. It was a total blank. She would have thrown something else at him, but he kept talking, and the proverbial hackles raised again.

"Kark you," she snapped at him, gritting her jaw. "You do that and I'll kick your ass, Cip, one legged or not." And then an edge of panic. He wouldn't dare try, the last time they had tried any exercise like that they were both younger people and he could barely put his hands on her. Past aside, he wouldn't dare now...

...Right?

A small sliver of doubt touched the back of her mind when she looked at his face. However, she wasn't in a rational mindset; mulish stubbornness set in, shoulders stiff and arms tensed. He wouldn't dare.


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She wasn't making any moves to grab her crutches but she also wasn't throwing anything at him. The fact that she didn't have much to throw at him that wasn't attached to her hospital bed likely had something to do with it. Her IV stand was a little bit out of reach since it was no longer 'plugged in' to her as it were. And with her just laying there? She didn't really have a hope of reaching it.

Oh well.

Max sighed once.

"I did warn you."


Striding over to the bed, he grabbed Vera by the hips and lifted her up out of the bed in one motion. The Force reinforced him, making him capable of the feat of both strength and dexterity. Slinging her over his left shoulder so that she was looking behind him, Max held her in placed with his left arm and grabbed her crutch with the right hand before turning and walking out of her hospital room.

"You wiggle too much and I'm going to spank you in front of the nurses' station."


The nurses' station was coming up actually...

"Act your karking age and come quietly to drink and smoke with me."



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He was kriffin' serious.

Blue eyes blazed as she attempted to scoot back, lashing her arms out to keep him at bay, but he already scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder, almost as if she weighed nothing.
"Dammit Max, put me down!" she snapped, thumping her hand against his back. "This is a kriffin' assault on an officer. I can do this myself!" she seethed, scowling. Didn't he know she was broken? Why was he so intent on dragging her out of a place where she could sit and be miserable?

"Fine!" she barked at him, almost in a snarl. "But you put me down now, or I-- I'll..."

The words faltered on her lips. Just like that, she was tired. Beyond tired. She knew she looked like hell. Probably wasn't the cleanest smelling either. But she wasn't layin' on a bed to impress anyone; she sagged over his shoulder, the fight just fleeing as swift as it came.


"Just put me down."


The word was so hard to say, but she finally did, her voice muffled, quiet against his back.

"Please."

She was already humiliated enough, she couldn't stand much more of it.


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Assault on an officer? He’d like to see any kind of court consider carrying a woman out of bed an assault on an officer but he knew he didn’t need to be worried anyway; she wasn’t going to write him up. She wasn’t going to try and fight him either for the same reason. The reason was simple and rather depressing; she had, on some level, given up on herself.

She thought it wasn’t worth the effort anymore – that she wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

He didn’t need to use the Force to see her emotions through the Force because she was wearing her heart on her sleeve right now. Max probably wouldn’t have needed her to be so expressive anyway because he recognized the stance as the one he’d held himself after the loss of his eye. So as he set her down on her foot, leaning her against the wall of the elevator, he pressed the button for the roof and handed her crutch to herself.

“Do you think any less of me because of my injuries?”


It was a sudden question to ask… but no it wasn’t really and they both knew it. Max reached up and took the eyepatch from his left eye, tucking it into his pocket and turning to look at her. His left eye socket was empty, clean but so very bare without the eyepatch to cover it up. He flicked what remained of his left ear as well; barely 40% of the thing still attached to him.

“Cus I did.”
He admitted with a shrug, “I felt like I was a failure and I was… less. That I was no longer whole and, because of that, I was no longer the man I was.”

The elevator opened to the rooftop and Max held a hand against the door, making no move to leave himself but giving Vera all the space she needed to leave and step out onto the rooftop.



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Thank goodness he'd set her down. She already had little pride left to begin with; if he would have kept going with this treatment she would have gone completely limp, but as it was she wasn't facing him. When he spoke, she flicked her eyes over at his own. Unflinchingly, unafraid, the stare calm, but initially unresponsive.

When she spoke, her voice was raspy, harsh even to her own ears, not tearing her gaze from his own singular eye and the socket.
"Of course not," she replied, stuffing the crutch under her armpit. "But it's different. You've always been stronger than me, Cip." A dry, bald statement. Not trying to give fancy words, plain facts bluntly spoken.

However, she let him speak. Let him talk it out of him if he wanted. And at first, she didn't answer, but limped-shuffled awkwardly towards the rooftop, where even overhead long lines of endless swoop and speeders ghosted chem trails through the hazy sky. Even here, perhaps, people saw a crippled old woman limping out of there, scowling at the traffic.

Her hair wasn't in its' usual tight ponytail; shoulder-length blonde hair was traced with silver as she shuffled back to look at him, her voice gruff.
"How do you cope with it? With knowing that you've failed your own code?"

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At least she didn’t flinch.

Too many people he knew reacted badly when they saw his wound without the eye-patch. Something about the injury just made people squeamish beyond what they were expecting when they saw the scars leading to the patch. Like they didn’t expect it to be as bad as it was for… some reason he’d never quite understood.

He did his best to just let her speak, to vent, but when she claimed that he was just stronger than she was, Max didn’t hold back the one-eyed eye-roll. Instead he fished out a couple of cigars from one of his internal pockets and gave one to her. He lit them both and took a pull of his own as he thought about it for a moment or two.

“Thing is with a code, is that it’s not made of glass - it doesn’t shatter because of one thing. Or even a dozen things.”
he took another pull, “So long as, no matter how much or how many times you fail it, you still pick yourself up and hold yourself to it.”

He set down two glasses on the edge of the rooftop and placed the bottle beside them.

“How do you think you’ve failed, Vee?”
he asked her honestly, “Last I checked getting injured in the line of duty was a mark of respect, not a sign you karked up."



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Vera Coulter

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She wordlessly took the cigar and absently watched him light it, before taking a draw. It had been eight years since the last time she had anything beyond gum to dull the need for cigs, but today it just didn't matter. She took a deep pull, exhaling through her nose afterwards and watching the smoke spiral away as she listened. However, blue eyes snapped back to meet Max's gaze at the nickname. Most didn't even speak this casually to her; she swallowed once, then took another drag from the cigar before answering.

When she did, her throat was hoarse, harsh.

"I was stuck in the damn records room. I wasn't there when the upper levels went up in flames; could do kark-all in a small room tucked away. When the Sith came in, it was all focus." She took another deep drag of the cigar, letting the words linger before exhaling again.

"Guy tried to light me on fire, threw what remained of the heavy-ass door at me over and over. All I could think of was fighting him, but I was barely getting any hits in." She felt distant, like she was speaking in another room, zoning out. Recalling the words. The screaming. Even not being like Max, she could feel the hatred, knew that in comparison she was nothing but a bug waiting to be squashed.

"Then he was right in front of me, half-blind but full of rage. I had him right in front of me, but the damn shots wouldn't hit," she seethed, the hand holding the cigar starting to shake. With fear, with anger, the guy just refusing to die quietly, to just be stunned. To be put down, and still charging. "I was ready to die, dammit. And then some kid came in, saved my ass. I didn't want to be saved!" she snarled out, scowling. "I'm not some goddamn doddering old lady, waiting in the wings to be rescued. He was right there, and I couldn't do a damn thing."

She snapped her gaze back to his again, gripping the crutch in a white-knuckle grip, jaw tight.
"I couldn't even handle one karking Force user; what good am I to a badge crippled and scared of every karking red-eyed ugly that goes bump in the night?" she asked in a flat voice, staring up. Meeting both the visage of his eye socket and an eye of blue. Eyes that made her heart beat a bit faster twenty years ago. As it was, she waited for the guy to give her some sage Jedi bullshit or something easy that people said to make others feel better.

It was far easier to be angry than afraid. Being afraid meant that the Sith won, and hard pride wouldn't let that happen. She had to stay angry. If she was angry, the bitter taste of failure would be a little more bearable.


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Max hadn't had a cigarette in years, just the same as Vera hadn't, but he'd always kept the cigars with him anyway. He'd always reasoned that he was keeping them around to smoke on special occasions like him getting married (not on the cards), his first padawan making it to Master (also not on the cards) or him making it to the council (when pigs flew maybe). But the real reason, he could admit, was to take during the moments when he truly felt as though he could not get any lower. The moments when getting some form of cancer from the bloody things was the least of his worries.

He could tell that she was finding it strange talking to him like this, strange that she knew someone who was able to connect with her like this. If that wasn't the saddest thing he'd seen all week he'd find a hat to eat. He listened to her as she told him what had happened and how, why, it had affected her so badly. At the same time he was pouring brandy into the two glasses.

When she was finished he took one of the glasses and hand it to her before taking his own. Taking a pull on his cigar, he breathed out the smoke slowly as he thought about it for a few seconds before speaking again.

"If you were a Jedi Knight or Padawan - hell - even a Jedi Master? I'd give you a speech about how the good fight isn't lost when we get knocked down by the evil in the Galaxy; the fight is only lost when we don't pick ourselves back up, dust ourselves off and plant ourselves right in the way of them again and tell them 'Not one more step'."


He eyed her and took a sip of the brandy.

"But I'm not going to give you that kind of speech. Truth is you're too old and stubborn to really believe it."
he grinned slyly, "Same as you're too stubborn to let some red glowstick waving pricks dictate to you when you're gonna retire. So think about it differently. Your shots weren't landing? Bring bigger guns. More explosives. Go full-on Mando on their arses and fry them alive for all I care - just don't let them decide, for you, that you're done."

He gestured to the bottle.

“Now drink up for kark’s sake - this shite is expensive on a Jedi allowance.”




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Vera Coulter

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She chuckled dryly at his words, taking her glass absently. "Damn straight I'm too stubborn. Too stubborn to just roll over and die too, apparently." Shuffling over to rest her hip against the lip of the closest wall, she took a sip of the brandy, eyeing him as well. All of him.

There was never any spark between them, but she was grateful for that. Grateful things were easy, that he didn't try smothering her with his karking religious nonsense about 'the Force' or anything. She still held a deep distrust of those that used the Force; it never ended well for the common, un-Sensitive people.

Even with the eye gone, he aged well. It was practically unfair; most of those that had left the force became red-faced, fat and balding, but he seemed as spry as ever. The eyepatch didn't really subtract either, but she wasn't gonna tell him that.
"I'm not done," she replied quietly. "Just want to be miserable for a time on my own. Is that such a bad thing?"

Yeah, let it fester too long and it could be unhealthy. But he seemed to know her well enough to understand she wasn't just gonna curl in some corner and let the galaxy spin on. Still... she'd have to up the ante on her armory. Bigger guns, huh? She took another swallow, feeling it warm up a modestly empty stomach. It'd also been a while since she had anything stronger than a beer, but her kid surely wouldn't be too outta joint if her old ma had some good things in life to tide misery over.

"Sometime, I might need your help," she replied quietly, frowning. "Beyond... all this. I don't know who to trust anymore..." she sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "I got most of the hard drives. From the evidence room. There might be something in it they didn't want us to have access to.. if I look through them and if anything pings, I want to know if you'll be with me when I hunt the trail down." Blue eyes met his straight on, lips tight and features set.

She wasn't sure who to trust anymore, but this was Cip. She trusted him better than even some in the Ranger task force.


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Good thing she was willing to play along because the whole tough love approach only really worked when the other person had the willpower to push through their slump. It was more of a shock to the system than a solution after all - something to get her moving. It wasn't meant to keep her going because that was up to her. Though it would seem that she had a good start on that from what he could see.

He smirked a little bit.

"Can't let the rot set in."
he shot back, half-joking and half-serious, "You know as well as I do that when people stop moving forward they start... bloating. Look at other people our age; pot bellies and mid-life crisis here and there."

Though running around the Galaxy trying to fight an enemy cult by virtue of being part of a different cult... yeah most people would be right in assuming that a mid-life crisis was less over the top than his current life. If only they knew he was throwing himself into the higher mysteries of the Galaxy to face things without names and horror beyond most imaginations.

Fun.

"Of course."


He didn't hesitate because there was nothing worth hesitating about as far as he was concerned. She was going to need his help at some point and he was happy to give her a hand. Especially considering how often the two of them got involved in things for his own 'projects'.

"Gotta know I'll be there soon as you ask, Vee."



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She chuckled wryly at his words, taking another full sip. "You think I'm close to getting middle-aged and fat?" she asked throatily, staring up at him. "I'm not dead yet. I just want to be angry."

However... hearing him call her Vee made her blink once.
"You know, you're the only one to call me that. Why?"

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Max couldn't help but chuckle a little bit when she commented about his 'belief' that she was getting middle-aged and fat. It wasn't the case and they both knew it - about the fat part anyway. They were both into their middle age and enjoying it for the most part as far as he could see. Middle-age worked well with the Jedi lifestyle anyway because it meant he looked old enough to give sage advise but still spry enough to kick someone's arse.

He had developed what the younger Jedi called 'Old Man Strength' in that he was solidly built even if he wasn't as defined as they were these days.

Bloody kids.

"You can be angry if you want, I suppose. Sounds like a pretty boring day in my opinion but, hey, I'm a warrior space monk these days so what do I know?"


Smirking ever so slightly, he nudged her with his shoulder.

"You've always been Vee to me."



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She smirked back at him and shook her head. A slow huff parted through her nostrils at his words, tilting her head back against the wall to look up at the traffic overhead. "You've always been Cip to me. Even after two decades, sometimes I look at you and I see... that kid that went with me through cadet school." Maybe she was getting soft. Maybe it was the whisky. Maybe she just didn't care anymore; the rulebook was somewhere burning in a pile of rubble where the Ranger station once was.

"You were almost too good, I almost wanted to hate you for it."
Picking up the cigar, she took another pull then exhaled, watching the smoke get snatched away by the breeze. "Had the biggest crush on you, too. You were cute, all clean-shaven." She glanced back over at him... and the slightest tired twinkle glinted in blue eyes. "Guess you're okay now, warrior space monk. At least better than some of those fool kids tossing themselves into trouble."

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Well it was just like her with the name "Vee" he supposed - no one called him Cip. Of course the reasons were different. She hadn't ever hidden away who he really was but Max had. He'd buried who he used to be so deeply and so completely that even he didn't think of himself that way anymore. Max hadn't thought of himself as Cip for so long that he honestly didn't know when he had stopped and Max became more his real name than his true name ever was.

"The kid who couldn't even grow a beard?"
he scoffed playfully as he rubbed at the beard he had grown since their time together in the academy, "Nah kid was too smooth for your tastes. You'd have gotten bored of him in a week at most if he'd followed you into the Rangers."

It had never been a thought that crossed his minds because, back then, he hadn't actually heard of the Rangers doing anything worthwhile. Though, in their defense, that had been a couple decades ago and they had gotten a lot better since then. Maybe if he was a young cadet again...?

Maybe.

"Why is it than when the no-beard look works it's on a young man not wise enough to recognize a good thing right in front of him, eh?"
he joked lightly, placing a hand atop of one of her own, "Can't spend time thinking about maybes and what ifs though Vee - we got a long while yet so best we look forward too."


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She smirked at his words, head cocked to regard him as he spoke. True, he was all about rules and regs, then, but it was that which attracted her in the first place; someone that had a strict moral code and lived by what he preached. It was a rare thing, someone who genuinely believed they were doing good in the galaxy. He kind of had it as a fresh-faced pipsqueak, but as a man approaching middle age there was... more of him somehow.

It was both nice and maddening to know someone who was just so unflappable in their beliefs. But at his touch she glanced down at his hands, then back up. Not too long ago, Rangers and Jedi were at odds with one another. She sighed, nodding once.
"You always had a shine of optimism," she commented wryly, finishing off the glass. "What's left ahead, though? Getting old?" she shrugged, chuckling once. "I'd rather go down fighting than from old age. I'm already falling apart as it is," she tilted her head towards her missing limb, "and I'm not up to watching the rest of me fall to pieces."

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He was just glad he had grown out of that stage.

Even if Vera might have liked him in that stage of his life, Max honestly hadn't much cared for it himself. He didn't like who he was or where he was at the time, even if there were some bright parts of the whole experience. Getting out of there had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done with his life but he would say, on the whole, that he was reasonably happy with how things turned out.

He got to become a person he actually liked being in a place he enjoyed being around others like him. Max hummed a little bit as he reached down to idly trace a pattern against the back of her hand with a fingertip.

"Call it optimism if you like - I just think that with people like us at the wheel the whole thing can't end up being so bad in the end can it?"
he grinned, "We show the young ones how to get it done first. Then we can retire."

Max took a sip of his drink and made an exaggerated sigh of contentment.

"Sipping whiskey on a beach somewhere, collecting pension checks like a boss."



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