Though the halls of the remote facility weren't very long or wide, Mand still sprinted as quickly as she could after hearing Adalia's calls for help from the other side of the floor. Her twin sister stood outside Horatio's room with her arms tightly crossed over her chest, glancing nervously inside as she awaited Mand's arrival. Once close enough, Mand looked her up and down with concern, assessing her condition.

"Are you okay?"

Adalia nodded shortly, trembling the slightest bit as she spoke. "I'm sorry, I - I didn't know what to say. When he woke up, he...he kept asking... I had to tell him... I'm sorry..."

Mand's heart sank, knowing full well the volatile, unrestrained reaction her sister had just endured from a despondent father. She had intended to be the one to talk to him when he awoke, but she had left his side briefly to spend some time with the twi'lek woman, to calm her after she'd learned her daughter had been taken. Taming Horatio would be a far more challenging task, and Mand regretted leaving Adalia so unprepared in her position. She gripped Adalia's shoulders in a sympathetic gesture, searching her eyes to comfort her.

"It's okay," she soothed. "I'm sorry he scared you. Thank you for trying to help, I'll take care of him now."

But Adalia only looked more worried for her. "Please, be careful, Prime..."

Mand nodded, appreciating her warning with a wan smile that faded as she turned and slowly stepped into the room to face her damaged former partner.

It looked as she had expected it to, like a noticeable scuffle had taken place though Horatio was the room's only occupant. He had overturned a small table beside his bed, scattering the bandages and other medical supplies about the room. A plate of food that had been thrown against the wall was still dripping to the floor, and the glass of water that had accompanied it lay shattered in the opposite corner. Despite the mess he had made, though, she immediately spotted the bloodied bandages he'd ripped off his side and left on his bed, and he stood at the window, his back to her. He looked little less than a wounded animal, bracing himself against the sill as he heaved labored breaths and struggled to remain standing.

She had never before seen so much of herself in him. He had lashed out in a visceral, emotional manner that she wished she'd been able to the moment she realized her daughter Cordira had been taken. No wonder they'd worked together so well all those years ago.

"Get...out..."

His weakened breathing had stolen most of the fury from his voice, but Mand knew she still had to tread carefully. He had long kept his personal pain hidden from everyone, even from her, with such fierce determination, so he couldn't be more dangerous than he was in his current state.

"Liaa's awake now," she began so softly, hoping to draw him out of himself. "She's asking about you... She's worried about you."

But he remained unchanged. "I said, leave, Kil..."

Mand took in and released a slow, centering breath, drawing on the Force to steel her nerves. "You know I won't. I refuse."

He flinched the slightest bit at her words, seemingly unable to decide if it was worth continuing to fight her. Their stubbornness had been evenly matched since they'd been partnered together in their teens, and Mand had gone on to prove time and time again that she could far outlast his resolve. He had decided to focus his energy elsewhere, though, as he made no further demands, instead reverting to the painful source of his rage as he gripped the sill in a whiteknuckle hold.

"...Jewel is gone."

Her heart ached so deeply for his; she knew exactly the excruciating, indescribable torment he was going through, for she had once experienced the same. It was up to her to be the gentle voice of hope he needed when everything else in his head was only screaming with anger and despair, if he would allow her to be.

"We will find her, Horatio. I promise you."

Even though his face was still turned away from her, she could feel the agony freely emanating from him. "...and Wil is dead."

"No," she countered immediately, stepping closer to him as she forced as much strength as she could into her words. "No, Horatio, he's not. We're doing everything we can for him. Rech hasn't left his side since we found you both. He's out of surgery now, and he's in a bacta tank, which is where you should be, too."

No longer on the other side of the room but just beside him, Mand could plainly see just how much his entire body was shaking, both from the extreme emotions he fought within himself and from the severe fatigue she knew his muscles had to be suffering. He had lost a substantial amount of blood before she and the other Jedi had found him, and with only such a short passage of time between his arrival at the remote facility and his limited recovery, she could only surmise that he remained standing by sheer force of will.

"I'm not going into any bacta tank..."

Mand hardly stifled a weak laugh at the irony that she had already pulled him out of one mere hours ago. "Fine," she ceded, lightly placing a hand on his arm. "But you at least need to rest, please..."

His intense gaze snapped to hers, the most movement she'd seen out of him yet. "Rest?" he returned incredulously, his volume rising. "Rest?! You're out of your blasted mind. I don't get to rest, not while my daughter is out ther- " Doubled over by sudden, intense pain, he grabbed his stitched left side, his legs no longer holding him upright. Mand reacted quickly, wrapping her arms around his chest to steady him until he caught his breath, but his heavier frame continued to sink to the floor. She could only ease his movements as he settled himself down, and though his hand still covered it, she worried for the delicate stitches over his lacerated abdomen that may not hold up to his increased activity. She knelt in front of him as he feebly gasped to recover, and as she looked up into his eyes, she was unprepared for the complete vulnerability he was no longer making any effort to hide.

"I had just left her room," he managed at a weak, trembling whisper, his eyes locked in an unfocused stare beyond her. "She was afraid of the storm... I had gotten her back to sleep, and then..." He trailed off, his posture sagging as his energy drained in earnest. Mand gripped his shoulders to at least keep him upright, but he hardly seemed to notice as he continued recounting his nightmare aloud. "...I never even heard her cry." A terrible realization brought him back to himself, and he met Mand's gaze directly once more, all hope erased from his expression. "...he killed her, too."

Moved with unbridled compassion for him, for his understandable descent into total misery, Mand felt a lump forming in her throat that choked her briefly. She swallowed as she shook her head, desperate to keep him from completely giving up. "No, I don't think so. Maybe...maybe he kept her sleeping. She's your daughter, Horatio... Whoever it was that took her, if he knew anything about you, he'd have to expect that she would put up one hell of a fight."

Though his expression changed little as if he hadn't heard anything she'd said, he rested his head on the wall behind him, closing his eyes to reserve what little energy he had left. Mand knew he had to be fading, but since none of the other Sheridans could tell her, she needed to know...

"Horatio...did you ever see him? The man who attacked you?"

Without opening his eyes, he shook his head weakly. "It was dark...middle of the night... Wil, he...he tried to warn me about the flash detonator...but that was all I heard."

Mand sighed sadly. Wyliaa had just given them the same report, and she had seen even less of the attack than he had. How in the galaxy were they supposed to track down a kidnapped twi'lek hybrid when they had nothing to start from?

Inspired by a sudden thought, Horatio lifted his head and looked to Mand once more with clarity, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. "...how did you know where we were?"

She carefully pried his hand away from his side, inspecting the deep laceration that had begun to bleed again. "We didn't. Wil sent us a distress signal, and we followed that. He's the reason we found you both when we did, and we only just arrived in time."

"Then...how did he know where to find us? I...I never told him where we moved..."

Lifting her gaze from his wound, Mand could hardly withhold her shock. He had intentionally kept Wil from knowing where he'd moved his family? Had something happened between them? Had they gone through some kind of rift? The thought left her fumbling for words. "I don't know... We haven't been able to ask him anything yet."

"It's my fault..."

Mand shook her head with emphasis, gripping his bloodied hand in hers. "No, it's not. Don't do this to yourself."

A distant look returned to his eyes as his skin became even more pale and his trembling intensified. "I can't lose them, Kil... I can't."

"I know," she soothed, slowly positioning herself at his side to begin lifting him to his feet. She pulled his arm over her shoulders and gently tugged, surprised at how much strength he had left to mostly right himself on his feet. "I will do everything I can to help you find her, but you must recover first. You can't do anything for Jewel, or for Wil, until you heal."

Thankfully he didn't protest as she stepped with him back over to the bed, lowering him down onto it with care. She wasted little time in covering his side with a new bacta patch, hoping it would reverse the damage he had done during his fit of rage. He hardly reacted to the pressure she applied to the site, and she worried even more for him as she felt at his neck for his weak and thready pulse under her fingers. Ensuring that he was at least comfortable as he floated in and out of consciousness, she called down the hall for medics to stabilize him once more.


Waking up with a start, Horatio called out in distress, grabbing his left side that had begun to pain him sharply. His torso had been double bandaged, he quickly discovered, after his earlier premature removal, and the medics hadn't been all too gentle on their second application. The tightness of the wrapping restricted his breathing almost uncomfortably, but strangely the pressure relieved the pain in his side the more he moved. A blood transfusion line was hooked up to his arm, likely the reason he felt far more energized than he had been the last time he'd woken up. By the looks of the almost empty bag hanging above him, he would be getting a visit from the facility's medics soon. He was alone in his room for the moment, though, and he preferred it that way.

He hesitated a few brief minutes, making sure he hadn't earned any attention from the nurses passing by in the hall before he began to unhook himself from the monitors and IV lines he found attached to himself. He moved easily enough as he stood from his bed, though he could feel his muscles still slightly shaking from their weakened state. A pair of plain trousers and boots he spotted neatly arranged on a chair by the door weren't familiar, but they would suffice for proper attire in his haste to leave. He wasn't about to stick around long enough for another lecture from his former partner, nor would he allow her to waste any more of his time. He had his daughter to find...and her kidnapper to kill.

The hall beyond his room was only sparsely populated as he slowly peered out, and thankfully he saw no one he knew. With only a quick survey, he deduced the quickest path for his escape, so long as the Paneau facility was laid out as most were. He took in and released a slow breath to stifle his increasing pain, and setting his jaw, he set out for the hangar, stealing a heavy jacket off an unattended desk in the hall and donning it as he went.

No one seemed to pay him any mind as he walked with purpose, perhaps because of the intense expression he maintained on his face, or perhaps because they had been warned of or maybe even seen his dangerous, volatile nature. He could still hear Adalia's voice, fearfully telling him that Jewel had been taken, resounding in his head and torturing him endlessly, and he could feel the same fury swelling within him once more with every step he took. Had he been armed, he might have blasted his way through the hall to the hangar, refusing to suffer any impedance, intentional or not. Luckily for everyone else, he was equipped with none of his usual gear, a fact he'd remedy by stealing the right ship.

Trusting his instincts had led him straight to the hangar as he had hoped, and with a careful glance behind himself, he made sure he hadn't been followed before he continued inside, closing the lumbering door behind him. He had half a mind to break the control pad in half before it sealed, preventing anyone from coming after him for some time, but he wasn't sure he could spare the energy. His abdominal wall was on fire through every breath, threatening to steal his focus entirely, but he fought through it with everything he had left.

For Jewel, he centered himself.

He had a ship to pilot, and surprisingly spotting one he recognized, he stepped over to it, running his fingers along its smooth, familiar exterior. Its loading ramp descended for him on command, as he knew it would, he just hadn't expected to suddenly find it so difficult to board it. He hesitated, unable to move for some reason, his legs heavy as durasteel...as they had been once before, years ago, when he had tried to run.

He wasn't running, he told himself over and over again, glancing back at the closed hangar door, beyond which lay his partner and his ailing son. He couldn't do anything useful for either of them; he was no medic, and they should only blame him for their injuries and for the loss of their little girl. They wouldn't want him anywhere near them, and he couldn't fault them. No, he reasoned, he needed to do whatever he could to earn their trust back, if it was even possible, and he had to find Jewel. He had to find her soon.

Overcoming his mental block with an impulsive strike of his closed fist against the hull, he finally stepped up into the ship, a smaller but versatile cargo hauler, and surveyed its contents. Though it had been almost two years since he'd last seen it, its interior was just as he remembered it; no added frills, no personal markings, merely utilitarian and functional. Up in the cockpit, the fuel gauge read nearly full, another fortuitous discovery. He half felt that his luck was contrived, that it had been intentionally laid out for him to find as he had...but he shook the thought from his head, feeling fatigue already getting the better of him. He began the startup sequence, priming the fuel lines and engines in quick succession to get the ship airborne before anyone could stop him. He even charged the laser cannons, just in case...

A strange feeling in the back of his mind gave him pause. Every fiber in his being told him to ignore it, to continue prepping the ship, to dismiss it as a creation of his oxygen-deprived mind. He hadn't been followed, the hangar door hadn't opened again once he'd closed it, there wasn't anyone else in that hangar with him. His guilt had generated a shadow to torment him and punish him...but still, the feeling lingered. The ship was nearly ready, he could activate the repulsors and cruise out into open space at any moment...

...but he slowly turned to see his former partner, standing just beyond the cockpit, silent and motionless as he.