Ask Coruscant For the eyes of a Ranger are upon you...

Amos McCord

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It was midafternoon at the Sector Ranger HQ on Coruscant, and Amos McCord had just misplaced his teacup. Small problem. He’d moved into his new office just a couple days ago and already it had gotten away from him. Half-empty moving boxes were haphazardly arranged along the outskirts of the room, jostling for space along with a desk and a couple of chairs; a tired office chair for Amos and a faded mauve recliner for guests.

This office was actually larger than the one he’d previously occupied on Outpost Blue, meaning that when he finished unpacking the office would be quite comfortable indeed… if he finished unpacking. Finding homes for his few personal items was quite low on his list of priorities, a list that now included making a new cup of tea. Fortunately, that was a simple task. The one uncluttered area was the tea station on the left side of the office as you entered, the counter boasting a variety of teas from around the galaxy and a small army of mugs.

Two minutes later, Amos had a fresh mug of tea in one hand and a personnel file in the other. He’d read through it before, but it never hurt to refresh one’s memory. He had a meeting in five minutes with a Ranger by the name of Kanan Marek. Kanan was a veteran of several missions, having seen action on Serenno, Kronwest, Naboo, and most recently, Felucia. He’d served with distinction, but there was cause for concern; the kind of concern that got you a meeting with Amos McCord.

Amos had read every report available on the battle and had even visited the planet himself to inspect the aftermath; although soldier testimonies often failed to accurately capture the true nature of these kind of conflicts, all signs pointed to Felucia having been one of the hardest-fought battles in years. Particularly concerning were the results of the recent psychic exam that Kanan had taken. The Rangers randomly and regularly tested their people, and Kanan’s score had hardly improved at all in the weeks following Felucia; a marked contrast even compared to the displaced AT-TE crew standing right next to Kanan during the worst of the fighting.

Kanan was struggling, and it was Amos' job to figure out why.


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Kanan Marek

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The last thing Kanan Marek wanted to do was go talk to some shrink about his feelings. It was a monumental waste of his time to be cooped up inside a psychiatrist's office for the better part of the afternoon.

Perhaps this situation would have been acceptable had he been a rookie Ranger with little to no experience dealing with near death situations, but he was no rookie. He had dedicated almost fifteen years of his life to this job, and like every other Sector Ranger out there he put his life on the line every single day.

Almost dying was just part of the job, and that was something Kanan had come to grips with a long time ago. He knew how to deal with the aftermath on his own. He'd never needed help before, and he certainly didn't need it now.

His superiors claimed this was for his own good, but their time would've been put to better use by focusing their attention on helping the families of the soldiers that had died on Felucia. Instead, they were sticking their noses where they didn't belong. Into his business.

Kanan had declined each offer of therapy and counseling, and when he was eventually pressured into appointments, he ducked them. This game of cat and mouse had gone on for weeks, but his superiors had finally caught up to him and forced his hand.

Either he met with a counselor for evaluation or he would be taken off active duty. Unwilling to be taken out of field duty, Kanan had begrudgingly agreed.

As if an outward representation of the mood he was in, rain beat down on the Coruscant pavement and thunder rolled in the distance. Taking a deep breath, Kanan approached the open door and knocked. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get back to work.

"Amos McCord?" he asked the man seated inside the office.

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Amos McCord

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Amos nodded an affirmative to Kanan's question, rising from his chair just after with a smile. "You can call me Amos" he replied, waving aside protocol should it come up later. In truth, Amos didn't know and didn't really care where he fit into the Ranger hierarchy; details like that rarely carried any weight in his office.

A quick glance at his guest reminded Amos that Kanan wasn't all too keen to be here. Still, Kanan had taken the first- and perhaps most difficult- step by actually showing up in the first place. Men of action like Kanan rarely liked to sit around talking... which is exactly what was going to happen, if Amos had his way.

"Please have a seat" he said, indicating the faded but comfortable-looking recliner. "Would you like some tea?"

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Kanan Marek

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Tea? What was this—a ladies' afternoon social? Kanan shook his head, growing more uncomfortable with this arrangement with each passing moment.

"No. Thank you," he added as an afterthought.

Kanan crossed the room to a worn recliner. It looked like it had been put through the wringer throughout the years, and he just hoped he wasn't about to face a similar ordeal. The Sector Ranger wiped some of the rain from his pants (for all the good it would do) and practically dropped into the offered chair. Despite appearances, it was quite comfortable.

His eyebrows knit together, Kanan stared across the table at Amos McCord before shifting his gaze to the window. Good manners dictated that he ought to say something right about now. "Thanks for bringing me in on such short notice" or "Nice to meet you," but Kanan's heart wouldn't have been in either statement.

It was not Kanan's practice to say something he didn't mean, so he opted to say nothing at all. That was Amos McCord's job, after all. To talk. Kanan didn't even want to be here.

The rain beat against the glass pane of the window, and Kanan watched the individual raindrops glide seamlessly down to the windowsill's edge. Under different circumstances, the sound of the rain and the smell of a fresh pot of tea might have lulled the ranger to sleep.

The gentle scent took him back to a happier moment on Chandrila. Even so, he still didn't like tea, and he was too uptight for sleep.

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Amos McCord

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"If that changes, let me know" Amos replied, sinking into his own chair and sipping his tea. "And remember that anything we discuss is completely confidential." Amos pressed a button on his desk and the door behind Kanan slid shut; allowing for a battle of wills to begin.

Amos couldn't hide a small smile as the seconds ticked by in silence. Many humanoids found seven seconds of silence to be uncomfortable, and would begin talking to try and fill the space. Most trained Rangers could make it to 15 seconds, sometimes even 20. Kanan Marek showed no signs of initiating conversation after more than 30 seconds; a credit to the man's patience... and an example of his stubborn streak. It had taken several attempts to get Kanan to show up to Amos' office; supposedly, Kanan had been threatened with reserve duty by his superiors unless he showed today. Amos was grateful that it hadn't come to that- Kanan had long been one of the best Rangers in the corps.

Regardless, the man's independence and reserved nature meant that Amos had his work cut out for him if he wanted to get to the root of why Kanan was struggling. After no less than 45 seconds of silence, Amos decided to break the ice with his first question; a softball that he threw to almost everyone who sat across of him as a means of getting them talking.

"Thank you for coming here today. What made you decide to join the Rangers?"

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With the click of a button, the doors of the office slid shut. This was it. No turning back now. A small huff escaped him at the thought, and he slid deeper into the depths of the recliner as if that would somehow save him. His dark eyes bounced around the office, wandering from one box to another.

Either Amos McCord was a very disorganized man or he had just recently moved into this office and had yet to unpack. There was not enough furniture to fill the room's space, so Kanan had to assume it was the latter. The ranger's brown eyes landed on a cup of tea placed precariously on a box in one corner of the room.

He smirked. Or perhaps it was a little bit of both.

The seconds dragged on, but Kanan did not mind. Silence was preferable to whatever psychological mumbo jumbo Amos McCord would use to attempt to analyze him. The sound of the rain and the rolling thunder eased his mind more than anything a psychologist could offer him. In Kanan's experience, there were very few problems in life that could be solved by talking.

The saying was true: all good things did come to an end. McCord broke the silence with his first question. It wasn't a difficult question, but it was not a question Kanan had expected. He had assumed the ranger opposite him would start out with something along the lines of Why are you here today? or Tell me what's been up with you lately.

Huh. It would seem Amos McCord was a man of tact. Kanan had never been one for tact, but he supposed it was a necessity in McCord's line of work.

"I joined the Sector Rangers for the pay and the great retirement plan," he replied after a moment's deliberation.

This answer was, of course, sarcastic, but it held no malicious intent. Kanan had nothing against Amos McCord, and he couldn't fault the man for doing his job. But the fact remained that Kanan did not want to be here.

It was a waste of their time.

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Amos McCord

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Amos raised an eyebrow as Kanan spoke. Whatever was affecting Kanan had, apparently, left his sense of humor intact. Normally, Amos would make every effort to remain composed during a session, but overcoming Kanan's reluctance was more important. Kanan's appointment was only 30 minutes long; the psychoanalyst had pushed for an hour, but it was becoming increasingly clear why HQ had imposed a shorter appointment time. The Ranger's answer- or lack thereof- indicated an unwillingness to take their time together seriously.

Amos decided to change tactics. "How often do you inspect your equipment?" he asked rhetorically. They both knew the answer; Kanan was as meticulous as any Ranger in the corps. Amos continued. "When it's not working like it should, you take steps in order to ensure that it can do its job." Amos didn't need to lecture Kanan in equipment upkeep, but it never hurt to help drive a metaphor home as clearly as possible. "Why does that same care not extend to yourself?"

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Kanan Marek

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Kanan listened, unsure where this line of dialogue was headed but eventually drawing the analogy that McCord put forth. The ranger seated comfortably behind his desk was persistent, but so was Kanan. The two rangers were worlds apart from one another by all apearances, but perhaps they had more in common than Kanan would have liked to admit.

His eyes flickered to the chronometer that hung on the wall, hesitant to answer the question. The allotted thirty minutes had already begun to tick away, and that knowledge helped to brighten his mood. Those metal doors would slide open in no time, and he would be able to walk out, never to return if he was lucky.

So why did he have the feeling that the next twenty-seven minutes would feel like an eternity and that Amos McCord would milk every second for what it was worth?

With that amount of time left on the chronometer, the question was unavoidable. He would be forced to answer. Not even Kanan could sit in silence for half an hour while another man sat staring at him, expecting and awaiting a reply. Nor was Kanan that cruel. He would not keep Amos McCord from doing his job. He'd just make him work for it.

Kanan cleared his throat. "I don't believe my equipment can be compared to my person. Even so, I can assure you that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I inspect my equipment myself, and I can take care of myself. This..." he stopped, opting to use a different word. "...appointment is just a formality. To cover the Sector Ranger's backs."

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Amos McCord

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As Kanan spoke, Amos could see many of the traits that made the man such a good Ranger. He was dedicated, thorough, and calculating. He examined ideas for himself instead of instantly subscribing to the theories of others. Above all, he took pride in his work and displayed a mental resiliency that would take far more than one 30-minute session to disarm. However, a crack had appeared in Kanan's defenses that Amos had to probe further. As Kanan finished speaking, Amos leaned forward in his chair, fixing his counterpart with brown eyes filtered through the lenses of the reading glasses he wore.

"Is that how you would like me to treat you, Kanan? As a formality?" he asked. There was nothing vicious in his tone; it was a genuine question, and Amos let it hang in the air for Kanan to inspect. There was little the psychoanalyst could do if Kanan didn't decide to take responsibility for his own mental wellbeing.

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Kanan Marek

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Kanan couldn't contain the entertained smile that spread across his lips at the question put forth. When he had walked into this office a few minutes ago, the Sector Ranger had not expected a battle of wits. He had not expected Amos McCord to be so persistent and to put up a fight.

McCord could just have easily allowed this thirty minute session to slip by without any effort and still collected his credits. No one would have been the wiser, and yet he'd chosen not to do that. Kanan was surprised to find he was only slightly disappointed that McCord hadn't.

The two rangers might have disagreed, but at least Amos McCord was a man that did not give in easily and did not back down at the first sign of opposition. That Kanan could respect, and so Amos McCord continued to impress.

It changed nothing, but it did impress.

Kanan shifted in his seat, leaning toward the cluttered desk in front of him. Admittedly, he hadn't been sure how to answer that question at first, but he'd eventually landed on a response. "If I say yes, will this session go by any faster?"

His tone was lighthearted, and the smile still tugging at the corners of his lips would inform Amos McCord that there was no animosity behind his words. It was a joke. Nothing more.

Transitioning into a more serious tone, he added, "I don't understand why I'm here. Sure, I might have tested poorly on some of the wellness tests of late, but it hasn't affected my work. So... why should it matter?"

The ranger was genuinely curious.

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Amos McCord

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Amos smiled in appreciation as Kanan raised an excellent question, fortunately one that the psychoanalyst could answer.

"Because there's more to life than work, Kanan, and more to your value than what you bring to the job. You and I both know the kinds of burdens that this job carries, and thus, health is important regardless of if it impacts your work or not."

Now for a tricky transition- hopefully, Kanan would keep the dialogue going. "Which leads me to my next question. If not at work, where have you been noticing an impact?"

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Kanan Marek

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Kanan listened to Amos' explanation, considering his words. The ranger opposite him seemed genuine enough. Kanan did not doubt his sincerity, nor his commitment to the job and the people that walked in and out of his office on a day to day basis. It was clear to see that Amos McCord wanted to help. The only thing Kanan Marek doubted was whether or not he needed Amos McCord's help, and if he did... would the psychoanalyst be able to help?

A small part of Kanan was afraid of the answer.

"There were a lot of people at Felucia. What happened there... it follows me, yes. But no more than it follows anyone else who fought there," he answered, knowing full well that that statement was a half truth.

Amber eyes flashed before him, malevolent and sadistic. Burned into his memory. Inescapable.

He took a deep and calming breath, reaching down to steady the hand that had begun to tremble. Hopefully, concealed behind the desk, Amos McCord would not take notice.

He finally managed to bring himself to continue. "It's... part of the job. It's what I signed up for. Any side effects that come along with the job...well, I signed up for them. What kind of a ranger would I be if I complained? In our line of work, you can't make a habit out of showing weakness. It'll come back to bite you in a hard way."

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Kanan had dodged his question, but Amos didn't push. Kanan, like many Rangers, needed to be gently introduced to the idea that Amos was able to help them. Furthermore, the pregnant pause between Kanan's two statements was not lost on Amos. Indeed, there was some truth in Kanan's statement about showing weakness; many times in the field, Rangers had to make snap decisions with lives on the line. To wave away the repercussions of their line of work would be a disservice. Amos decided to engage Kanan on that point.

"In the field? Perhaps. Life-and-death situations are, unfortunately, all too common in our profession. However, that is why it is even more important that we take care of ourselves when we're not in the field. Like now." Amos replied, his tone conversational but serious. "Because you are correct; we are not pieces of equipment, to be maintained and fixed and broken again. We are humans, you and I, and we are infinitely more complex and nuanced than any machine. We require a special kind of care, and that is what I am here to help you with."

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"I suppose you're right," Kanan conceded, shifting in his seat to lean back again and get as comfortable as possible.

Every ranger knew that their personal life would bleed over into their work life from time to time. It was inevitable. Kanan had always been a dedicated Sector Ranger, but there had been a time many years ago when this work had not been all consuming. Outside forces had impacted his dedication to the job once before. Who was to say it would not happen again?

If he didn't get... whatever this was under control, it could lead him to make a critical error in the heat of the moment. Any mistake in his line of work could cost him his or someone else's life. The latter was not a risk he was willing to take.

Kanan supposed it wouldn't kill him to answer a few questions, so long as they weren't too personal. At least McCord was taking it slow and not pushing anything on Kanan.

Still skeptical but feeling slightly more cooperative, Kanan asked, "Just how do you propose to help me?"

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Amos' already high respect for Kanan went up another notch- some Rangers, used to being the authority of their respective governments in the field, had difficulty adjusting to new ideas and information. Clearly, Kanan wasn't one to let his pride get in the way. Still, he wasn't expecting Kanan to signal readiness to move ahead with some questions, and he couldn't help show his surprise. "Ahh... one second, please" Amos responded, muttering to himself as he frantically searched the top of his desk for- "Aha! Here it is!" Amos produced a clipboard and did his best to smooth out the crumpled sheet of paper clipped to it.

"First, we're going to do a word association exercise" he explained. "Since few people are capable of expressing their trauma on day 1." There was no accusation in his tone. "I will say a word, and I'd like you to tell me the first word or phrase that comes to mind." Speaking without a filter was difficult for many people, but Amos had faith in Kanan. "Remember, there is no judgement from my side of the desk. You may wish to close your eyes to avoid visual distractions" he added. "Ready?"

After receiving an affirmative from Kanan, Amos would begin the exercise.

"Smile."

"Walk."

"Shoe."

"Plant."

"Mushroom."


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Kanan watched Amos McCord rummage through the papers piled high atop his desk, the corners of his mouth twitching up in an amused smile. The cluttered office and papers strewn about the room made Amos McCord seem a little bit more human. He was more than just a ranger sitting behind a desk evaluating patients and paperwork.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Kanan quipped, but the comment did very little to lighten the mood or ease his thoughts.

"Smile."

The Sector Ranger paused, a little surprised that that was the first word McCord had chosen. Kanan had expected something more challenging or off putting. McCord continued to surprise. A few years ago the answer to that question would have been much simpler—his wife, Jania. Now the answer was not so simple, and the face of his dead wife was not the first face that came to mind.

It was Song, her features and heart stopping smile etched into his memory for all eternity. The Mandalorian had a beautiful smile, made all the more enchanting by the fact that it was hidden away beneath a helmet of pure beskar most of the time. Glimpses of the woman beneath the armor were few and far between, but they were always worth the wait.

"A friend of mine," Kanan replied vaguely, his tone serious. That was not a topic he was willing to discuss with anyone.

"Walk."

This time Kanan replied without any hesitation. "Coruscant." It wasn't uncommon for rangers to spend a great deal of time working on the ecumenopolis, particularly when they were first starting out. Kanan knew these streets like the back of his hand.

"Shoe."

"My mother." He added in the way of explanation, "She used to get on to me for tracking mud into the house as a child."

"Plant."

Ah, there it was. The easy line of questioning had been too good to be true and had now come to an end. It was an opener, nothing more. Now Amos McCord was getting down to the heart of the matter, and both of the rangers already knew what Kanan's answer would be.

"Felucia."

An immaterial laugh resounded in his brain, the cackle echoing in his mind and reverberating in his skull. It was the sound he couldn't escape, the sound that followed him into sleep. Into his nightmares. Amber eyes blazed before him again, and he steadied his hand, unwilling to allow it to give in again. When he felt his heart beginning to race, he rested his brown eyes on the rain gently beating against the window pane.

"Mushroom."

"Death."

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Amos McCord

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"Plant." And there it was; a slight pause as Kanan hesitated before committing to the exercise.

"Felucia." Amos regretted the way that he had to lead Kanan through his trauma, but the first step was to identify it. He had read testimonies and notes from other troopers in the area, including Kanan's post-battle interview, in order to make his list of words.

"Mushroom."

"Death." Not an entirely surprising answer, considering that one had crushed a trooper mere feet from where Kanan had stood. Still, the questioning had to go on. Kanan had faced death before, clearly there was more to his experience on Felucia than that, however brutal that death may have been.

Amos pushed ahead with his next word, keeping a careful eye on Kanan lest the psychoanalyst probe too far in their first meeting. The fragile trust that he'd built with Kanan needed to remain intact.

"Death." Amos said, echoing Kanan's most recent answer.

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"Death."

Kanan's brown eyes darted to the Sector Ranger seated across from him, his gaze hard and accusing. The disapproving look was gone the next moment, however, as he reminded himself that Amos McCord was not the enemy. He was merely trying to help Kanan, as hard as that was for Kanan to internalize and accept for whatever reason.

"Never ending," he answer eventually, his eyes glazed over.

The last memories of the soldiers that had perished beside him on Felucia played over and over in his mind. It was impossible to forget the fear and the dread that had filled their minds and their souls. Impossible to escape the amber eyes responsible for these unforgivable acts.

The soldiers at Felucia died, their horrible deaths releasing them from the torment and knowledge of impending doom and the unbearable pain of bones crushing and limbs tearing. Kanan's torment was never ending it would seem, forced to replay and relive those memories on almost a daily basis.

Hardly a night went by that he didn't dream about it, waking up in a cold sweat and wishing for the briefest of moments that the darkness would take him and release him from this.

"Knowing you ought to be dead but... never dying."


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Kanan's eyes flashed in his direction and then glazed over after a long pause, leaving Amos to fear that he'd pushed too far. Internally, he urged Kanan to prevail in this moment. The seconds ticked by, and Amos grew more and more worried. Finally, mercifully, the silence was broken as Kanan managed a few more words that sent shivers up and down Amos' spine.

That was enough for now... more than enough. Time to start leading Kanan back away from the edge. Amos skipped down to the bottom of his list of words and chose ones meant to guide Kanan's thoughts back to the present.

"Light."

"Safety."


The last few words were present, tangible objects that Kanan's senses could perceive.

"Rain." The pitter-patter of raindrops tapping against the window.

"Chair." A solid, grounding object that Kanan could feel supporting him.

"Tea." A scent heavy in the air in Amos' office.

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Unsure whether he was expected to respond or not, Kanan decided to remain silent. He no longer felt like vocalizing his thoughts, not when they already caused such turmoil within. Still willing to try to put his best foot forward and give Amos McCord a chance, however, he did the next thing and listened.

As McCord spoke, Kanan internalized his words and used the visuals that surrounded him to ground himself once again. Focusing on the rain and its calming, soothing effect; on the surprisingly comfortable chair beneath him.

To Kanan's surprised, each subtle suggestion managed to calm him a little more than the last. His heart race slowed, and his hand eventually dormant.

Finally, Amos McCord concluded this process with the word, "Tea."

A moment of silence passed between the two Sector Rangers, and then Kanan turned to Amos. A subtle smile crept over his face.

"Still disgusting," he replied, letting out a small chuckle.


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