Nar Shaddaa

Part of me says 'let it go'...

Private Yongo, a broad young man with a shaved head and very little neck, was standing in front of the door to Exam Room 1, arms crossed and glowering at anyone who entered the clinic. Cole was no where to be seen, but if the Republic soldier was here, then the doctor couldn't be far away.

Niall arrived, walking with heavy step.

"Private." He said, waiting for the expected salute before continuing. "Is Officer Ormont in? He's expecting me."

Private Yongo had drawn himself to attention and saluted the Captain, "Captain Organa! Sir!"

At Niall's request, the soldier turned, knocking on the door behind him and opening it partway. "Captain Organa is here to see you, sir." If a response was forthcoming from inside, it was too soft for Niall to hear. But the Private opened the door fully and stepped aside, indicating that the Captain could go through.

The examination room wasn't large, or well appointed, but it was clean and well lit. Cole had, at some point, sat at the foot of the examination table: a proper and sturdy affair with a padded surface, covered with a disposable drape. At some point after that, he'd lain back, legs still hanging over the end.

That was how Niall found him now. Staring up at the ceiling. Cole lifted his head and saluted the Captain with surprising efficiency, despite the awkward position, before letting his head drop back. "Captain," he said. His other hand, casually hanging over the side of the narrow table, loosely held a flask.

Niall's brows drew down in mild surprise; it took him a moment to return the salute, much more casually. "Cole." He sighed. "Let's drop rank entirely today, shall we? I'm too tired for it."

He walked closer, giving Cole a concerned look. "Are you okay? Injured or anything? I got your message last night..." The concerned look deepened as he spotted the flask. "What's wrong?" He asked softly. His imagination began to fill in various scenarios. The most likely just being that Cole couldn't save everyone.

"I think I can manage that today." The pair had probably passed each other at some point in the early afternoon, each doing their part for the rescue efforts. Then, Cole had been unshaven and his uniform caked in dust; from the looks of him then, he'd been doing more than just street medicine. Even now, scrapes on his knuckles suggested that he'd been moving chunks of ruined building about.

Now, he was shaven, showered, and cleanly dressed. But he still looked tired. He waved the flask in Niall's direction, offering, but he spoke to the ceiling, "were you able to find somewhere to sleep? I ended up sleeping here, right on this table," he patted the table beneath him with his other hand, it had not been a restful morning.

As an afterthought, "no, I'm not injured. I work here, in a manner of speaking." He'd get to the other question eventually.

Niall waved away the drink. For his part, Niall hadn't looked too bad for most of the times their paths had crossed, except for the gradually deepening shadows under his eyes. They were even deeper now.

"I was, yes. I spent the night in the Jedi compound." Niall cleared his throat.

"I see." After a moment, Niall smiled. "I imagine you were rather busy today. Incredibly busy, in fact. I hope it hasn't been too hard on you." He asked.

"I haven't had clinic hours yet. Perhaps later this evening. I was helping pull survivors... bodies from the rubble just after midnight." Cole ran a hand down his face, "I came here to try and get a few hours sleep before rejoining the work." He'd managed six fitful hours, but hadn't felt much better for it.

He props himself up on one elbow, twisting to face Niall. His brow furrows thoughtfully, and he takes a belt of whiskey. His jaw works, on the verge of asking a question. He discards the thought with a sigh. "The other day, when Shaisha was wounded, one of her friends picked her up and carried her back to their ship. She was unconscious and bleeding to death. She certainly would have died if they'd tried to hold out any longer."

Cole lay back down, absently scratching at some imagined itch on his stomach. "And, well, you were there, the next day, with her friends."

"Well, take care of yourself, first." Niall said, still concerned. "You can't work all day, especially not what you do. There's only so much that a person can do on their own." He paused a moment, then shook his head, chuckling. "Cole, do me a favor, and remind me that I said that sometime?"

Niall frowned. "Yes, I remember." He leaned back against the wall, arms folded, waiting for Cole to go on.

Cole made a mental note, as Niall requested.

"It made me wonder Captain. I mean, if I'd gone down like that?" He pushed a hand through his curls, "I don't mean in the sense of a doctor needing a doctor. I mean, I don't have family like that, or friends, or," he sat up just enough to take another mouthful from the flask, "or even a home actually. Oh, hand me my kit, could you?" He waved in the direction of the small desk where his bag was. "Shit my leg is hurting something fierce."

Niall moved over, picking up the bag. "You have friends, Cole. Do you think that if you got hurt, and I was there, that I wouldn't pull you out? Or Ashla? I saw how she took care of you when you broke that leg."

"And as for homes..." Niall shrugged. "Maybe that just means you need to make one. A place, or a group, or even an idea, if it's the right one."

He frowned as he carried the bag over. "Is it okay to have whatever you're taking for the pain, on top of whatever's in that flask? What are you taking for the pain, anyway?"

Cole pushed himself up, and swung his legs around so he was facing the Captain, "everyone trusts the Force in a foxhole, and Nar Shaddaa makes allies out of us all."

He took out the vial of painkillers, "Hydromorphinone, as I would give any soldier. The flask is just good, old-fashioned whiskey." The vial fits a stimpack, and he loads it and injects it into his thigh.

"You know the trouble with being a doctor? Your life's one big revolving door." He takes another belt of whiskey, sealing the flask and tossing it carelessly on the table next to him. "Like you, for example. Of all the soldiers and sailors that went through that frigate, you're the only one I've actually spoken to. And even that's a surprise, because once someone's discharged, they go back to their real life and bit where they collided with mine is just another best-forgotten memory."

"Hmmm." Niall frowned. He resolved to get Ashla's opinion on that, later.

"I see." Niall tilted his head, watching Cole. "Saving lives, but only touching them briefly." He is silent a few moments. "I suppose I am lucky, to have family. And friends. Although Aly and Arsele only came back into my life recently. And will most likely be out of it again shortly." He is silent a few moments, his expression distant, wistful.

"But don't you have colleagues on your ship? Or that you went to medical school with?"

Cole half-shrugged. "It's not the same. After a tough day in Basic, you go out, you knock back a few drinks, you give each other shit. Medical Corps is tough in a different way. When you're starting out, a tough day means a dressing down and hitting the texts harder than night. By then end, a tough day means losing a patient on the table."

"We don't have squads, we have shifts. And there's no camaraderie in the surgical theatre. You work with people on different medical tracks than you: nurses, anaesthesiologists, surgical specialists. Teams built on what's needed for the patient."

He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, "and you sure as shit don't drink and rib each other about the men and women you didn't save."

Niall listened, nodding slowly as he listened. His expression was thoughtful, the brow lightly wrinkled, his lips pursed ever so slightly.

"Hmmm." He smiled. "It sounds as though medical needs to have more teambuilding. Perhaps I should submit some forms." The light in his grey eyes suggested he was joking.

He sighed, his expression turning serious again. "But Cole, maybe you just need to find some friends outside of your job. I know, with this war, there's scarcely time, and I'm hardly one to give that advice. But it seems like a separation of your work life and your private life could only be a good thing. Something where you can forget about the people you didn't save." He smiled. "If we do both go to Alderaan, we can work out a plan for you there."

Cole laughed softly and spread his hands, "maybe I just need a way to decompress."

He sighed and fixed his eyes on Niall's, "you remember what Shaisha said yesterday?"

Niall nodded. "I remember she said that she wasn't grounded. Is that what you meant?" Niall deadpanned.

He chuckled softly. "But no, I gather you meant one of the other things she said." He gestured invitingly for Cole to go on.

Cole's brow furrowed deeply, "today she extended a firm offer for me to go with her. To just abandon everything I believe in and, and I don't even know. She said that she trusted me?" The confusion was clear in his expression, in his voice.

"Oh." Niall said. He is silent for a few moments.

"I don't understand. What's there to think about? Of course she trusts you. You've treated her a number of times. And she's helped us a few times as well. But... I don't follow, Cole." His forwn deepened.

Cole holds up a hand, "don't get me wrong, I'm not thinking about defecting. But, let's say the Talks succeed, and peace is negotiated. Surely there'll be diplomatic envoys and information sharing and what not? Right?"

"Maybe, as some who already has - let's call them tentative allies - within the Empire, maybe," he drew out the word carefully, "I could do some good out in their part of space?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "it's crazy, right? I'm crazy."

Niall nodded slowly. "I suppose you could be a doctor with the diplomatic corps. Frankly, you're good enough that I'm sure you could get a position anywhere you wanted."

Niall sighed, offering Cole a faint smile. "I'd like to tell you to stay. To help out in the Republic; there's still a lot of good you can do with us, more than you can do in the Empire, with its social structures. But..." He shook his head, even as the smile grew. "I think you've had enough of people telling you what to do. So... follow your happiness, Cole. If you can find it. You deserve it."

Cole rather dramatically flops back on the examination table, barely remembering to move the flask. One leg hung over the side of the table, while he drew the other foot up and planted his heel on the surface.

"That's the rub, isn't it, Captain? Knowing what's going to make you happy?" He wasn't about to delude himself that he was more than a fleeting curiosity to wild and felid pureblood, but he glanced at Niall and felt himself sigh.

He groaned, rubbing his face.

Niall gave cole a wry smile. "Yes, it certainly is. If you ever figure it out, let me know how you did it."

Niall stretched his shoulders, pulling his arms more tightly across his chest. "Um... I was joking earlier, when I mentioned the team building, but really, it seems like something should be done. Being a doctor in the Republic military should be something that people should want to do." He grimaced a moment, then looked thoughtful. "Can you think of anything that would help, there? Either you, or the next Cole that comes along?"

Cole glanced at the Captain, saw his tension, and sat up. Putting aside his secrets and indecision would be a relief. Concern touched his brow, "Niall? is something wrong?"

"Hmmm?" Niall shook his head. "Oh, no. Well, nothing specific, I should say. It's been rather a long week. And a strange one, besides. I'm sure you'd agree." He sighed. "And it's not quite over yet. Even if my part in it seems to be over. All the change I can affect now is entirely on a personal level, if even that."

Cole shivered, just a little, "I'm not sure strange begins to cover it." In ten days he'd gone from clean-cut Medical Corps graduate to a man with a murderous secret, sleeping with the enemy.

Until today he'd been impatient to put the damn moon behind him, the sooner the better. Today, he still wanted as far away from Nar Shaddaa as he could get, but found himself torn in three seperate directions. The flask sloshed as he took a swig from it. The whiskey didn't seem to be helping him come to a decision but it did, albeit temporarily, make the choice before him seem less onerous.

"There's a lot of good work ahead of you, Captain. You're a leader," and handsome to boot, "when the talks succeed, and implementing peace becomes a reality, everyone's going to be looking to you for guidance."

Pushing a hand through his curls, he wished he knew where to look for guidance. He took another drink.