Auld Lang Syne (open to all)

[Commander Zemil Vymes]

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?

We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld ang syne.

We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

Night watch was coming to an end.

Every aching bone in my body was tired, but I hadn't done a damn thing. This time of year, the streets should've been crawling with scum. Strangely, they weren't. I almost wished they did. It would give me a sense of vindication.

I shuffled into Yog's Bar & Grill, retiring my piece to the man at the door. He gave me a covert, empathetic look. I shrugged it off. No matter how much he might want to walk a mile in my shoes, I was the only one who knew that the soles had worn thin. I didn't need anyone's sympathy, and the road from anonymity to B was through empathy. No thanks.

I shrugged off my coat, damp from the earlier shower of the night. I stank like the street. That smell of speeder ozone and glitterstim smoke, mixed with sweat and the stink of regret. I wore it like fine cologne. Anything else was an unbecoming lie. I'd long-since convinced myself that I was comfortable with being a damned cynical fool. I hadn't lowered myself to sweeping that under the rug.

The burdens of my life sank me into my seat, and I nodded to the waitress across the room. We'd existed in this microcosm for years now. She kept the bad coffee, burnt toast, and runny eggs coming. I let her bum smokes off me and flattered her waning good looks. She treated me like a human being instead of a cop, and I tipped her well. It was my half hour of humanity, and I was an addict. Neither of us would ever make it out of life unscathed. We weren't going to be space commanders, or Jedi Knights. Everybody takes a stroll down a clean street and takes for granted that cleaning the crap off the pavement sometimes takes lives, and its not just the one's who get put six feet under. They can kill you with a cheap watch and a lousy pension, too.


"Mornin Zem." She'd dyed her hair...again.

"Mornin Louise." I nursed my coffee, easing my back against my seat, working out the tension.

"You havin a happy new year?" She asked.

I'd tried not to ask myself that.

"Yeah." I lied. So much for principle.

Somehow, I doubt she bought it. Something about waitressing was alot like being a cop. You cut through the flak and the red tape people always threw up as a front. You knew people. You made it your business to know people. A good waitress is never asked to refill coffee. A good cop is always one step ahead of a crook. Who was I fooling, when I insulted her intelligence? The look in my eyes, however, was begging her not to press the issue. Tonight, I wanted to drink my coffee, and eat my greasy food, safe and sound amongst the ignorant. I needed this.

God bless Louise. Maybe she could read more than I thought. She patted me on the shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.

"Happy New Year, Zem. You deserve it."

I looked up at her, with a thankful glimmer in my eye, and raised my cup of caf.

"You do too, Louise."

A wry, but feigned smile appeared on my face.

"Just keep the coffee coming."

She walked away, but tossed a one-liner back my way in response.

"Just keep tipping me." She didn't even bum a smoke off me this time.

I returned to the solace of my solitude and breakfast, eager to let the evening bleed into morning, so I could sleep again. Something masochistic in me stirred, however. I reached into my pocket, and pulled out my wallet.

On the audio system, an old New Years song began to play...a dirge for the ghosts of my past to rise out of the grave and haunt me. I flipped past the empty money pouch, and pulled out two weathered holo-flimsies.

My wife.

And my son.

"Happy New Year"

The words rolled, bitter off my tongue, as the floodgates of memory and recollection gave way.

[Sin Vamel]

The street was long and narrow and for the best part deserted. And filthy, the road and pavement was littered with bits of confetti and pary hats and beer bottles and bits of food. It was the aftermath from a mamoth of a New Years Party and my friend, Ze and I had the munchies in a big way. All the way down the road we stumbled and rocked, latching onto each other for support and more often than not bringing each other crashing to the ground. It was all good though. And funny too.

"Whath bout is place? Ere!" I yanked at Ze's collar, bringing him to a halt outside the Bar and Grill. Again he stumbled and chuckled to himself which then had me laughing and before we had another fit of the giggles I looked up to check out the name of the place. The sign above the door seems further away than I thought, at first I think it's moving about on the wall then I realise that I'm being rocked from side to side by Ze, who's head had crashed against my shoulder as he stood lifelessly behind me. My eyes narrow and then pointing in half awe, half suprise, I laugh and tap my buddy on the head.

"Oooohhhhhh! Ze, look! Is th'Bar n' Girl. I like this place, come'n!"

Ze is groaning now on the floor at my feet. He's complaining, something about me turning around to fast and him losing his balance; I've no idea what he's talking about. Five minutes later and he's on his feet again, after having pulled me down to the floor a good few times. We're searched at the door, Ze starts purring as the guard checks for any concealed weapons and I scoff in the face of the guy frisking me. He catches my eye and I can't hold back my laughter anymore, Ze follows suit next to me.

"S'aright bud--dy, Ahm gon' be Shedi." I mutter as reassuringly as possibly, before throwing my arm around my buddy's shoulders once more and together we make our way inside the establishment. Once inside, I stop and look around wearily, finding that I don't seem to be in control of my eyes which are either trying to close on me or look the wrong way. Damn eyes. Come on! Off to the bar with us.

"Less gessum brefast. Whar y-wan?" I ask Ze, turning to speak to him, I'm practically chewing on his ear and he still manages to not hear me. I point dizzily at the menu behind the counter then shrug. "Well, whar y-wan? Hey! You're new lady!"

I call out brightly as the waitress appears from the kitchen, I'd never seen her before; she wasn't bad. Maybe it's the beer goggles but I definately would! Ze whisltes and I hit him in the stomach to shut him up. Did she hear us? I call out again.

"Hey, Miss-- Waitress Lady!" We both burst into fit of giggles at the counter then I suddenly sing: "Happy New Year!"

[Kack Mebuff]

Kack walked into Yog's and gave the bouncer a nod in passing.

"Happy New Year."

The padawan had always liked the Bar and Grill, it wasn't like the rest of the Jedi places, it kinda had a more homely feel to it. Where ya' could kick back and relax.

Yog's was actually pretty empty. Then again it was New Years Day, most people were either hung over or still sleeping.

Louise was working today and came over and took Kack's order of Eggs, Ham, and Pancakes. He gave her a warm smile as she walked off. Louise was a good woman, she worked hard, and no matter what she always wore a smile, even as worn and faded as it was.

[Daen C'allyx]

He wasn't here as a Jedi, or a cripple, or a newcomer to Coruscant.

Daen C'allyx was in the Bar and Grill as Just Daen. Just Daen was a normal kid who was eighteen today and who was going to order a hearty breakfast even though he knew his stomach would reject the rich food. Just Daen was going to eat slowly, and maybe even order seconds. He might go watch a holo later. Just Daen didn't have to worry about limps, or scars, or amnesia. He worried about girls, and friends, and getting his own speeder. He worried about growing taller, and staying in shape, and having enough credits to buy tickets to that really cool, unmissable-unless-you-want-no-social-life concert. Just Daen would relax. He would take it easy today. He might even come back to the Bar and Grill tonight and order his first legal drink, and then go overboard and wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and swear never to do it again (until his next birthday). He could do all these things because he wasn't out of the ordinary at all today.

He was just Daen.

The heaping plate of food in front of him had stopped steaming some time ago, but still it remained untouched. He watched others come in--a rowdy drunk, some guy--, and glanced at those already here--a decidedly dejected looking man--with un-attatched interest. New Years was always an interesting occasion. Everybody took it differently, and it seemed there were both ends of the spectrum in concert tonight.

Sighing Daen pushed his plate away. A little too hard apparently, because the dish slipped off the table and crashed to the floor, sending food and shards of the broken plate across the floor. The waitress glanced his way at the noise and Daen shook his head apologetically before getting onto his knees and trying to scoop the pile of mess into some order. At least, he reasoned, it wasn't a total loss.

Just Daen could still have a happy birthday.