Firmus was numb.

Everyone was yelling around him and gesticulating. Medics were working over the three boys he’d somehow thrown away from himself.

He’d had his eyes closed, but there had been witnesses all around the square. Witnesses who apparently couldn’t be bothered to step in and stop the brutal beating of an eight year old boy, but who were immediately doing their civic duty to report that the child had exhibited strange power and injured several others.

His power was feared on Axxila. There were whispers about evil magic users. Parents used it to keep unruly offspring in line. Old men gossiped about it and talked about magic users around the galaxy who could do terrible things with their power. Then they would spit to ward off the evil.

The civil officers were standing on either side of Firmus as his Father yelled about not being able to pay for the medical expenses for the bullies and it wasn’t his fault anyway.

Several shop keepers were hollering about the damage to their storefronts because apparently the shock wave Firmus had created, had shattered glass as well.

He didn’t know. He hadn’t asked for this.

Then Rilla was there, panting and holding a stitch in her side as she paused near him and took in the destruction and hubbub around them before she reached for his bloody face, her eyes full of grief and fear.

“He needs a medic too,” she said into the screaming match over their heads. His wonderful, courageous sister. “Firmus is hurt!” she said loudly, and Father finally stopped yelling to look at her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked blankly. “Go home. There’s been enough trouble.”

“All right,” Rilla answered, turning to Firmus. “Come on. I’ll see what I can do…”

“Oh this one isn’t leaving,” said one of the officers, a hard hand clamping down on his very sore shoulder. He winced under this grip. “There’s all this to pay for. And all these witnesses say they saw this boy use…power.”

“He did!” puffed the fruit seller, running up with his datapad. “Look! Here on my security feed!”

Firmus waited and Rilla slid a hand into his as Father and the officers watched the black and white recording. He couldn’t see it, but Father’s face went white with fear and anger before he lifted his eyes to meet Firmus’s.

He swallowed and gripped Rilla’s hand fiercely.

Firmus had been trying to stop this power long before he’d been sold, Plo thought. Part of him hoped the father was still living. He wanted to make him weep with fear. But that would not help this little one in the moment. “You are not weak, Firmus,” Plo told him seriously. “Far from it. And I will say this as often as I need to—-you have nothing to prove. You do not have to earn your place with us. I have no intention of abandoning you somewhere.” That slim body stiffened in his arms. “But I…I might have that…explosion again. What if—-?” Plo wrapped both his arms around the boy, cuddling him close as he’d wanted to do from the moment he’d seen him in that Force damned cage. A contented noise issued from the child in response, and more tension bled away from him.  “You would not be the first Force user to blow something up—intentional or otherwise. Some do it for fun,” he added, thinking of Anakin Skywalker. “We all have to learn. And—I would like to do that for you. I would like to teach you about your power.” That thin face popped up eagerly, despite his weariness. “So I won’t hurt anyone! Yes please!” Plo sighed. So. Much. Damage. “Firmus, certainly a Jedi must use his power to protect most of all. To bring peace. Healing. But—while self control is indeed valuable, one must also be able to use the Force…violently if necessary. To defend.” There was a silence so long, Plo wondered if the boy had fallen asleep. Then—- “....I know.” It was whispered with shame and Plo realized that Firmus did know this very well and was afraid of it.  “Dear one,” he said, heart aching at the things this child had been forced to do. “I know you had to kill animals. But why did you do so?” Something warm and wet was soaking into his robes and Plo discovered that Firmus was weeping silently. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “Tears are natural. It is likely you will have them often for a while.” “Not…a baby,” Firmus hiccuped. “I just—” “I weep still. For many reasons.” This stopped the child’s desperate attempt to explain away his tears.