5 years later
Dantooine

Unable to sleep for some reason as a ferocious storm raged through the night, Horatio stared out the bedroom window into the downpour and incessant flashes that lit up the landscape outside his modest home. He was laying in bed with his left arm tucked under his head, the other around Wyliaa's shoulders, only wearing light sleep pants to stay comfortable. She almost always ended up laying against him in her sleep, curled up on her side with her head on his right shoulder and her right arm stretched across his bare chest. Even without a sheet to cover them, she had become his own personal radiator, and this night was no different.

Somehow, Wyliaa's hand always found its way to the jagged, pronounced scar on his left side as she slept. Her fingers seemed to gently trace its rough outline as if by sheer muscle memory, for she neither focused on it nor asked him questions about it during waking hours. At first, he had been off put by her actions, afraid she intended to demand he get rid of it, or at the very least make it less noticeable. It was the reminder he kept of his love for another woman, after all; the mother of his son Wil had saved his life by treating and caring for his grievous wound for weeks. Deilia had been gone for years, however, and it was his son who had slowly taught him how to trust and how to allow himself to be loved, both by the example he saw from the boy and by his own guided introspection. He wouldn't have agreed to have another child if it hadn't been for Wil's, and Deilia's, gracious influence on him.

Could he tell that to Liaa? She hadn't ever seemed to him like a jealous person, only generous and forgiving in instances when she definitely shouldn't have been. How was he to address his scar, then, in a way that wouldn't make her feel inferior? Did she even consciously care? Why was it only at night as she slept that she seemed to subconsciously fixate on it?

His internal turmoil must have manifested physically despite his best efforts, as Liaa stirred slightly against him though she never completely woke. He brought his left hand from behind his head and gently held her palm against his chest, taking in slow, deliberate breaths to return her to sleep. He could see her faintly smile with his touch, and she snuggled even closer to him before her smile faded and she once again stilled against him.

He envied her. She was so...comfortable as she slept so deeply, perhaps because of the grueling manual labor they performed daily as cargo haulers. They had their work cut out for them, picking up and hauling and distributing desperately needed supplies between their new home on Dantooine and the nearest trading post every day. The two of them were providing necessities for not just themselves, but for other wayward homesteaders who had also made the abandoned Rebel base their home, as well. It was honest work, and no outside governing forces had yet to bother them in the far reaches of the Outer Rim since they'd moved there almost six months prior, and he well preferred it that way.

That was one of the two stipulations he had declared before Jewel was born. If he was going to keep both her and her mother safe, he didn't want them anywhere near Core Worlds where he'd made a name for himself as a bounty hunter, or where he'd become known as a mercenary for the Huxnel, or even anywhere close to Wil's homeworld of Paneau. That left him with few options, but he couldn't let his enemies and former employers find out that he had a small, vulnerable daughter to exploit. Liaa could take care of herself well enough, but he couldn't bear to be the reason she landed in someone's crosshairs, either. Giving Jewel no surname was his second demand; he had refused to let Wil take the name Sheridan and put a target on his head, so there was no chance in hell he'd give it to his daughter and possibly endanger her, either.

The storm outside continued to howl and pour, and one particularly loud clap of thunder seemed to shake their home to the foundation for several seconds. Liaa continued to sleep soundly against him, though, not even flinching despite the storm's ongoing power. He hugged her more tightly to himself, keeping her comfortable as he returned to his thoughts. He hardly had the chance to reorganize his mind before he was distracted again, this time by a small sound coming from the bedroom doorway. He lifted his head to look that direction, not altogether surprised to see his daughter Jewel standing there, desperately clutching her toy tooka in her arms. Her golden amber eyes were timid and full of fear, and he had a vague idea why.

"Jewel... What are you doing out of bed?"

She bit her lower lip. "I'm scared, Daddy," she whispered in a small, shaky voice.

With a slow breath, Horatio gently eased Liaa's arm from his chest and moved her head from his shoulder to the pillow behind him, standing from their bed as she continued to sleep. He stepped over to Jewel and effortlessly lifted her into his arms, calmly securing her in his hold as he walked with her down the hallway.

"What are you scared of? The storm?"

She nodded with tears brimming in her eyes, but she sniffled to prevent herself from shedding them and held even more tightly to her stuffed tooka. The plush little toy, affectionately named Phantom after her brother Wil's real tooka, had been well loved, worn from its rich, vibrant brown fur color to a muted brownish gray. Jewel hardly went anywhere without it anymore, Horatio had noticed, especially after she had begun to recognize her brother's lengthy absence in earnest...

Still holding her secure in his arms, Horatio stepped up to a large window in the main room, looking out with her into the driving rain. Another loud clap of thunder greatly startled her, and she turned and buried her face into Horatio's shoulder, only just missing hitting him in the eye with the ends of her swinging lekku. He stroked her back, soothing her though he remained in place.

"Jewel," he whispered. "The storm can't hurt you from out there. It's just loud. You're safe inside, I promise."

She slowly lifted her head, carefully studying the rain as it ferociously poured outside just a meter from her. "It scares me when it's loud..."

"I know. Lots of things will scare you. But you have to be brave."

Immediately she perked up, her eyes beaming with excitement. "Brave like Wil?"

A punch in the gut would have been kinder. Still, he nodded, keeping his expression neutral for her. "Brave like Wil."

Returning to the rain, Jewel pursed her lips, giving the window a defiant attitude. "Wil's not afraid of anything, not even you, Storm." She gave a short hmph, clutching Phantom even more tightly to herself, but her newfound strength faded after a few moments in the darkness. It wasn't until she looked up at him with her quivering amber eyes that he recognized her ongoing distress.

"Daddy... I miss Wil."

He had never before felt so simultaneously guilty and intensely sympathetic.

"I know, Gem," he breathed weakly. "So do I."

Just like her mother, though, Jewel was far more perceptive than he wanted her to be.

"Is that why you're sad?"

The question was innocent enough, but it left him stunned. How could she possibly tell? He hadn't been morose around her, and in fact he had consciously kept his mood in check whenever she was near. He was mostly certain she couldn't read his mind...

She reached up and gently pressed a tiny finger against his forehead. "Mommy says your 'sad lines' don't go away, but...I can see them now."

He couldn't bear to lie to her, though, no matter how much his admission pained him. "You're right. You always are. I'm sad because I miss Wil."

"So when is he going to come visit us?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "He's very busy, Jewel."

"...does he not love us anymore?"

Looking her directly in her saddened eyes, Horatio somehow managed to keep strength in his voice. "You listen to me. There is no one, no one in this galaxy that your brother loves more than you. Do you understand? He will always love you, and he will always protect you, even when - "

"But how can he protect me if he's not here?"

His remaining energy completely left him as he released a shaky breath. It's because he's not here that he's protecting you... How was he supposed to explain how complicated their situation was? How would a five-year-old girl comprehend his behavior as anything but subversive? He had intentionally kept his son from finding out that he was moving his family to the other side of the galaxy, and he had kept the location of their new home secret from every single person who'd ever known the name Horatio Sheridan... The former was what had etched permanent "sad lines" into his face, though, and Jewel had seen right through him.

He had never felt more guilt-ridden.

"Remember how I told you that Wil has a special job?" he asked, awaiting a nod from her before continuing softly. "He is very good at what he does. He doesn't have to be here to do the best that he can. He keeps the bad people away from you, and me, and your mom, all day, every day. It's not easy. I know you want to see him, but right now, he's busy keeping us safe."

It wasn't entirely a lie, but his heart was threatening to pound itself out of his chest the longer Jewel remained so quiet. She seemed to be thinking through his words carefully, considering his explanation with maturity not often seen in such young children. Her intelligence and thoughtfulness didn't surprise him, though, and neither did her stubbornness.

"Tell you what," he began lightly, hoping to ease her mood. "Why don't we send a message to him tomorrow? Just you and me."

The turnaround was immediate. "Can we?" she beamed. "Can we make him come here?"

"We'll meet him somewhere," he countered diplomatically. "That way he doesn't have to come all the way out here. Okay? Do you think he'd like that?"

Jewel nodded with fervor, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck in elated gratitude. He returned her embrace and hugged her to himself in earnest, thankful that her trembling had completely subsided in his hold as they had talked. With slow, sweeping steps, he left the window and the storm behind and carried her back to her room, gently lowering her from his arms onto her bed.

"But you have to go back to sleep," he charged as he sat on the bed just beside her and pulled the blanket over her. "Got it? Or you'll be too tired in the morning."

"...will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

He wanted nothing more than to immediately tell her he would. "I thought you were going to be brave?"

When she began to appear almost as scared as she had been before, he looked to her favorite toy for inspiration. "How about this... Whenever you get scared, I want you to give Phantom the biggest, tightest hug you can. And you know what? I bet the real Phantom will feel it, every time."

"She will?"

"She will. And I bet Wil will feel it, too. We'll ask him about it tomorrow, how many times he felt your hugs. But you have to go to sleep, okay?"

She accepted his terms with a weak nod, turning onto her side with Phantom secured in her arms. He watched her squeeze the toy tooka against herself with every deep, rumbling clap of thunder that reached her ear cones, but she seemed to calm herself as the moments went by. Her breathing slowed as she neared sleep, his cue to leave before he disrupted her light slumber. He carefully stood from the bed, slowly making his way out of her room when her soft, sleepy voice stopped him.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you more, my Precious Gem."

Hearing only light, paced breaths behind him, Horatio continued on out of her room, confident she would remain asleep for the rest of the night. His own fatigue rapidly caught up with him as he returned to his room, and though he had been intent on keeping his footsteps soft, Liaa partially woke as he neared.

"Come back to bed, 'oratio," she moaned, only half conscious. "I'm getting cold."

He hardly stifled a laugh as he stooped to sit. "I find that hard to believe."

Liaa grinned sleepily. "Fine. Your side of zhe bed is getting cold."

Looking over his shoulder at her still curled up in the same position he'd left her in, he couldn't bring himself to return to their usual nightly embrace. He would only be restless until morning, tortured by his decision to so suddenly cut his son out of his life and how it was now affecting his daughter's happiness, and he wouldn't allow his partner to suffer for it, too. She seemed to pick up on his distress, anyway, blinking sleep from her eyes a bit more as she studied him.

"What's bozhering you?"

He sighed. "Did my 'sad lines' give me away?"

Amused, she laughed lightly as she reached up and wrapped her hand around his arm. "'oratio, she's worried about you. I zhink it's adorable."

"I don't want her to be worried about me. She doesn't need to be."

Her warm hand moved up and down his bare arm, as much comfort as she could offer in her sleepy haze. "Do you regret moving us 'ere?"

"No," he answered immediately. "That's not what I regret. I shouldn't have - "

A strange sound coming from somewhere else within their home cut his words short. It was a quick, hollow thump, but over the ongoing rage of the storm outside, he couldn't tell which direction it had come from.

"Did you hear that?"

But dozing off again, Liaa hardly reacted. "It's just zhe storm, love."

"No, that wasn't thunder." Had Jewel gotten up out of bed again?

Another loud tumbling crash was followed quickly by the distinctive sound of a man calling out in sudden pain, instantly freezing Horatio's blood in his veins as he stood. There was an intruder in their home.

Liaa gasped in fear, having heard exactly what he had. Reacting solely on reflexes and years of training, Horatio grabbed his blaster from the table beside him without looking, keeping an eye on the door to their room as he positioned himself between it and Liaa behind him.

"Liaa, get your blaster.

Her voice was uncharacteristically timid. "'oratio..."

"Stay here," he ordered with quiet intensity, carefully stepping towards the door. He had hardly taken a look down the darkened hallway before he heard the telltale clinking of a durasteel cylinder tumbling towards him, having been tossed his direction. Unable to see it, though, he hardly had the chance to process what it might be before he heard a man's voice, a familiar voice, call out to him from the darkness.

"No! Dad, get down!"

He had no time to move. The detonator seemed to settle at his feet just as it exploded in a brilliant, powerful flash, blasting him backward to his bedroom wall behind him. His last thought was nothing but a name, belonging to his son who had just tried to save him.

Wil...