While Coruscant Crumbles (Preferably a Council member but if not, it still works)

[Jayms-Omry Marshalls]

When most people sought this building out, it was to join the group that ran it. Others came for help; but not many came aided with a letter from the Senate and the Coruscant Witness Protection Program. Anjella Corey had both.

The unusually tall Twi’lek waltzed in with an air of authority. Her crisp blue suit was ironed meticulously and with her patent leather pumps and oval sunshades, she looked as if she had walked right out of a murder mystery novel.

She was, in fact, a lawyer.

Miss Corey had never visited any Jedi facilities, nor had she ever met one. But a decent person did what was necessary, even if it meant working pro-bono to baby-sit.

Anjella looked across the room at a small counter, which she took to be a reception desk, and marched over. In an efficient manner she began to speak.

“My name is Anjella Corey, attorney at law, and I am here on behalf of and in representation of the minor Jayms-Omry Gulliver Marshalls at the behest of the Galactic Senate and Coruscant Witness Protection Agency. The said minor is a witness to the murder of Senatorial Aide Jonathon Erikson and has been subpoenaed to appear in a court of law three months from this date to testify against suspected assassin Kaol Shinn, if the minor is so fit. I have here,”

She removed several files from a leather briefcase as well as the two letters, both sealed.

“Medical records and diagnosis which may prove helpful in providing care for the minor if the Jedi order does in fact accept. The two letters are from the Senate and the WPP requesting your aid as the minor’s guardian refused to release him into the WPP.”

Anjella stopped and looked at the fragile woman behind the counter and sighed. She didn’t look to be very old and had a “deer-in-the-speeder-lights” look on her face. Anjella removed her sunshades and took a deep breath.

“Look. I got a scared, sick little boy names Jayms who has spent the lat six days in a cell down at Coruscant Juvenile Facilities because we don’t have anywhere else to pt him. He’s been suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and after what he saw, it’s not hard to believe. Now Jimmy is facing a great deal of danger and none of us want to see a seven year old get killed. So would you please get someone that can help me? Help Jayms?”

[Dasquian Belargic]

There was a little button under the receptionists desk marked ‘help’. It was red, and a few seconds ago, it had been pushed. Usually this little tool was used when an aggressive person entered the room, or frankly in any situation when a Jedi was required to attend the foyer for one reason or another.

The Jedi responding to this call was Dasquian Belargic, a Jedi Knight and Council Member of the Greater Jedi Order. A Jedi who carried himself with confidence, and who exuded all at once skill in his vocation and an aura of empathy and kindness towards most all people he encountered. As he entered the room, people could not help but turned their heads towards him – as no matter how many times a person saw him, he always seemed intriguing. Perhaps it was his unorthodox manner of dress, or his faintly alien features. Whatever the reason, people were drawn to him.

“Are you in need of some assistance?” he asked, to the desk clerk who looked relieved to see him. She explained the matter at hand, as Dasquian nodded attentively to her words.

“Well,” he began in reply, turning to look to the Twi’lek.

“It would be possible for us to look after the boy, however you must consider that this place, though safe, it not a complete Elysium… we are subject to attacks and the people herein lead lives that put them in harms way day after day.”

[Jayms-Omry Marshalls]

Anjella nodded and then shrugged with a sigh of exasperation.

“In all honesty I would prefer to keep the kid down in lockup. But I was just assigned to the case this morning and from what I gather he was taken into custody with no official release or warrant and the grandmother is making a fuss. She refuses to consent to anything that the court is offering and so the Senate sent a rather forceful plea admission to her, and sent me over here with the kid. I’m just the messenger.”

She handed the letters over to the Jedi and then stacked the files neatly, pushing them over to the other side of the desk.

“I’ve been given limited information at this point, just what they’ve prepared for a holonet press meet but apparently everything you need to know is in those letters. I’ve tried talking to the minor but he doesn’t say much of anything so I won’t be needing to meet with him until a later date. All there is left is for me to see the minor transferred into protective custody and I’m done here. Is this acceptable?”

[Dasquian Belargic]

As Dasquian looked down at the small boy, he felt the fear inside of him. It was like a beacon, a pulsing sign of his anxiety. The Jedi could not blame him for feeling as such; for such a naïve mind to witness a brutal murder would have been incredibly distressing. It reminded him of events of his past, and because of this he empathized with him.

“Very well. If you have no objections I’ll see to the boys’ safety myself,” Dasquian replied, as his eyes travelled back down to Jayms – having skim-read the custody papers, he knew this was his name.

“Does that sound alright to you, Jayms?”

[Jayms-Omry Marshalls]

From behind Miss Corey, the little boy draped in a blanket pulled the thin gray bedspread tighter around his shoulders. He’d been through hell in the past six weeks; seeing the man die, being interrogated by the police, ripped from his home in the middle of the night and rushed to the hospital, waking from the dark place only to find himself in a strange bed in the children’s ward surrounded by detectives. Then had come the lawyers, the interviews and the men in suits rushing him off to a jail for kids. They had told him that he’d done nothing wrong but they’d still put him in a cell and he still wasn’t allowed to see his grandmother. It seemed that every time he turned around there were people in uniform and cameras in his face, pushing and pushing, always pressing him for details.

In other words, it hadn’t exactly benefited his social skills.

“Does that sound alright to you, Jayms?”

He just stared at the floor, silently. Miss Corey cleared her throat and put her hands on his shoulders, steering him over to the Jedi. She grabbed her sunshades and placed them back on her nose.

“Well then. Everything’s in order, I’ll be going. The Senate and WPP are most grateful for your cooperation, as are the Lindon Law Firm and I.”

With that, she grabbed her briefcase and walked away, heading towards the door. Jayms studied the stone flooring as the clack-click, clack-click of her shoes faded away into nothing.

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian nodded as the lawyer departed, and turned his attention back to Jayms. He seemed like a quiet boy, though perhaps this was simply a result of what had happened to him as of late.

“… Well Jayms, my name’s Dasquian, and I’m going to be looking after you for a little while,” he said, attempting a little bit of an ice breaker with the boy.

“… How about we go get you something to eat? Do you fancy a burger, or some ice cream maybe?” he hazarded.

[Jayms-Omry Marshalls]

He shook his head, almost imperceptively, and shuddered involuntarily.

"No Sir."

He whispered. Jayms hadn't eaten in some time but he wasn't hungry. They had been on the verge of putting him on an IV because of it, but he had begun to panic and the doctors hadn't wanted to send him back into shock. He just couldn't fathom eating anymore. The thought of food made him sick.

His fingernails were a bluish-purple hue, cold, though it was quite warm in the building. It was too reminiscent of the dead man's body and Jayms felt the slick sensation of impending vomitting and he whimpered softly in desperate apprehension. There was nothing for him to bring up but having dry heaves hurt badly, and he was still trying to recover from the soreness the last bout had brought.

"I...I thi-ink I'm gonna puke!"

He gasped out a quick explanation and then ran away from Dasquian, looking for a bathroom, or a garbage can, anthing. He wasn't quick enough though, and the first heave made him drop to his knees. Sharp tears stung his eyes and his muscles contracted, pushing any air from his lungs faster than he could breathe it in.

As it slowly began to lessen, Jayms placed his forhead on the cool stone and wrapped his blanket around his shivering frame. He wiped the salty drops from his eyes and tried profusly to stop their flowing, to no avail.

"Take me home... please, take me home."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Rushing to the boys side, Dasquian dropped down into a crouch. People all around were watching as the Knight set a hand on the trembling boys back. As the Hallaer tilted his head to get a look at the child’s face, he saw it had become a whiter shade of pale. Slowly and very carefully he caged the boy into lifting his head, and as he did so Dasquian placed his palm against his forehead. In an instant the Force was flowing through him, attempting to heal whatever pains Jayms was feeling…

[Jayms-Omry Marshalls]

Jayms' mental state was still delicate, he'd only been out of the hospital for an approximate week and he was still at risk. It would take only a few frights or panic attacks to send him back into shock and a questionable mental capacity. So when he did have moments such as thus, it was rather frightening for the boy.

It came as a surprise when a hand was gently placed on his back, in a comforting manner. When Jayms looked up, the Jedi was there, looking at him. It was an even greater shocker when Dasquian placed a hand on his forehead. Immediately, Jayms began to calm down, unsure of this strange sensation and yet not afraid for once.

His trembling began to disperse and the child’s tears presently stopped flowing. His breathing leveled to a less hyperventilating pace and a light rush of color returned to his cheeks.

[Dasquian Belargic]

Seeing the healing effects were working, Dasquian began to smile. It was a comforting smile; one that he usually wore and that seemed to have a calming effect on people, allowing them to feel more at ease around him.

“How are you feeling, Jayms? … Is there anything I can get you? Anything you would like to do?”

[Jayms-Omry Marshalls]

Jayms sniffled and pulled at his blanket, adjusting it.

"I'm cold, Sir. I'm really cold."

The boy half-hazzardly wiped at his eyes and dampened cheeks , then pushed himself slowly into a slumped sitting position, huddling under the thin material as if it were a tent. He avoided any eye contact, keeping his gaze directed at the ground, and always flitting about as if staring at any one spot would cause harm to him.

"Can I just go home Sir? I want t' see my grandma."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian felt a pang of guilt at being the one to have to keep the boy here, when he so obviously did not want to stay.

“I’m afraid you can’t, Jayms. You need to stay here for a little while, but I don’t think it will be longer before you’ll be allowed to go home.”

[Jayms-Omry Marshalls]

His shoulders slumped to a dejected position and he sighed. It was the answer he'd been expecting but there was always that little hope. In any way, he couldn't do much about it now.

Jayms rested his hands in his lap and nodded silently, despondantly accepting it.

"Alright."

He drew a long shuddery breath and stood up shakily, head hung down.

"Can I go to a bed now Sir? I don't really feel so well."