As the Shadow Nova sped through hyperspace, Wil had carefully tried a dozen different ways to engage his father, but Horatio remained in the same motionless, blank state where he sat on the floor with the body of his former partner. It was a devastating loss, not just for the two Sheridan men who silently mourned side by side, but also for so many people Wil was close to. Though they were all half a galaxy away, he could feel their collective pain manifesting in his own chest, he realized, intensifying the wrenching, twisting agony that gripped his heart and worsened with each passing minute. Despite his own grief, though, he knew that his father needed his comfort the longer they sat together without a word, but could he ever get through to him?

"It wasn't your fault, Dad," Wil repeated gently, squeezing Horatio's shoulder to earn his focus. "She...she protected you. She protected all of us, so we could escape." He paused briefly in an effort quell the tremor in his voice. "...and it was her choice."

His father still refused to move, hardly even seeming to breathe with his gaze firmly locked on Mand's pallid, serene face. Wil almost wished for an angry outburst from him, a fiery fit of rage or woeful, bitter tears, at least some kind of response he could actively counter or handle. Though they'd only just met each other eight years prior, Wil had never known Horatio to completely...shut down as he had, and it terrified him. The man had just been through more emotional turmoil and physical trauma in one week than most people face in their entire lives, and it appeared to have finally broken him. How could Wil help him recover? Nothing seemed to be working at the moment, not even Phantom's gentle nuzzling against his leg, but Wil wasn't going to give up. Maybe Horatio had been more severely injured in that blast that had separated them than he let on; he had been the closest to the explosion, having pushed Wil away from it. Could that explain his state of permanent shock?

Another deep chest pang gripped him, reminding him that he, too, had been wounded as they began their escape. He slowly stood from his father's side and gave his shoulder one last comforting grip before he stepped away, no longer surprised that Horatio didn't react. He weakly made his way towards his ship's cockpit where Max and Bex were tending to the controls, and his approach caught his cousin's attention. Even though he was just steps away, Max urgently leaped to his feet and met Wil, supporting him as his stamina waned.

"I thought I told you to lay down," Max warned with concern, looking him over, but Wil ignored him.

"We're headed for the Paneau facility, right? Where Liaa and Jewel are?"

Though irritated at his redirection, Max nodded. "Bex put in the calculations."

"How much longer until we get there?"

Bex helpfully chirped the answer from the cockpit's access panel he was still plugged into, allowing Max to remain focused on Wil. "About an hour. Which is how long I want you to be resting. I saw that blast you and your father took; I don't think you need to be up and around more than necessary until we get you checked out." Glancing over Wil's shoulder for the first time at Horatio and Mand behind him, Max's gaze lingered on the late Jedi Master, quieting his voice. "...she's really gone?"

Wil hardly had the strength to nod, but he could tell it distressed Max even more as he continued. "By the time Phantom and I had gotten to her in the station...she could barely move. Whatever Azira had done to her had almost killed her then. I don't know how she...how she fought them all the way she did. That...that blaster grab with the Force was...incredible. And then the damaged blasters set off a chain reaction that destroyed the station behind us as we left. Azira's entire operation brought down in one strike, thanks to her. She was an amazing fighter." Returning to Wil, Max let go of a shaky breath. "I'm sorry... I know you were close."

'Close' was a gross understatement, Wil thought to himself, his chest tightening again with further grief. "She was always so kind to me, so affectionate, sometimes even more so than my own family was. Like I was one of her own kids. She only told me a few years ago that she'd known who my father was since the day she met me. She'd seen his eyes in me. I was only two. She never treated me any differently - "

An intense, shearing pain suddenly tore through Wil's chest, stealing his breath as he doubled over and pressed his palm over his heart. Max was quick to steady him by his shoulders, already walking him back to the rear hold. "I told you, you needed to lay down." Strangely, the pain seemed to dissipate the longer he remained hunched over, but he was beginning to worry as well. Something was wrong...

"Here," Max said as he strapped a respirator over Wil's nose and mouth while Wil settled himself onto a bench recessed within the bulkhead. "I don't like how pale you've become."

The air that filled the mask was stale and cold, but thankfully it seemed to ease his pain and slow his breathing the more he concentrated on relaxing himself. He even began to feel somewhat...weightless, as if he were faintly floating. Max pressed his fingers against Wil's clammy neck and studied his pulse, frowning as he withdrew them a moment later. "And your heart rate is way too fast."

Wil shook his head to dismiss his cousin's concern. "The pain is getting better, though." His voice echoed so strangely within the respirator, almost as though someone else entirely was speaking through him. Having left his father's side, Phantom leaped up onto the bench, too, curling herself into a ball at his hip as she whined with worry. Wil meant to reach down to her and stroke her head to console her, but...none of his limbs responded to his commands. "...what's wrong with me?"

"Right now, I'm not sure. I know what happened to you on Dantooine, though. My brother told me he stabbed you."

Color drained from Wil's sight. "...your brother?" Another Sheridan had almost killed him?

"He's the one who took Jewel. I didn't know I was sending you into his path..."

"But they..." His strength had all but left him. "...they patched me up...surgery before I left..."

"Well, then they missed something, or you reopened a hole that hadn't completely healed. Either way, you're going to need help, fast." Max stared a moment in deep thought before turning from him, heading towards the cockpit. "We'll be passing Sullust soon, if we haven't already. I'll redirect us - "

"No, Max," Wil stopped him with his desperate albeit weak plea. "Take me...to Rech..."

Only hesitating a moment as he considered Wil's request, Max eventually nodded. "I'll send a message ahead, let them know we're coming." He glanced one last time at Mand, his gaze lingering. "...do I tell them about her?"

Wil's eyelids closed heavily without his consent, taking his consciousness with them. "The Jedi...will already know..."


A raspy, gasping breath coupled with the whine of engines slowing out of hyperspace was enough of a catalyst to startle Horatio out of his stupor. He'd been in the same position for some time, sitting beside his deceased former partner on the floor since they'd left Rishi, but where were they now? The ship was slowing even more for a landing approach, and he had no idea what had transpired while he'd been so removed from reality. How much time had he lost?

Another labored breath earned his attention, bringing him to his feet as he recognized his son as its source. Somehow his legs carried him to Wil's side despite their weakness, and as he looked on the unconscious young man, Horatio could feel his heart breaking again. He was losing his son a third time.

"Wil..."

He earnestly gripped Wil's hand at his side, in disbelief at just how cool to the touch his skin was. Under a respirator, his breaths were desperate, haggard, and hardly coordinated as he struggled on every draw, distending the veins in his neck. At a loss for how to help his ailing son, Horatio reached up with his free hand and gently brushed Wil's hair back from his forehead, as if a comforting touch alone could calm him. Horatio's own breath caught in his chest as he felt his entire body trembling with crushing despair. He couldn't endure more loss; how could fate, on the same day, take from him the two people he needed most?

Though he continued to gasp, Wil's eyes partially opened and immediately found his father's. Wil even tightened his hand around Horatio's as they gazed at each other, an indescribable, emotional connection linking them through their distress. Against his will, a silent, bitter tear rolled down Horatio's scarred right cheek, but he felt none of its track. His pain was far too intense to process any other sensation.

"You made me a promise," Horatio weakly charged his son, his words only just audible. "...I need you to take care of Jewel."

Understanding and fear flashed through Wil's eyes just a brief moment before they closed once more, drowning Horatio in deeper sorrow. The ship around him rocked with a rushed, rough landing, and it wasn't until the loading ramp whined as it lowered behind him that Horatio stepped back from his son. Wil's grip had completely weakened as he blacked out, and Horatio easily felt himself slipping back into his previous state. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, though he suddenly wanted nothing more than to run...

Leaving the Shadow Nova in a low power state, Max wordlessly swept up behind him with urgency, carefully pulling and lifting Wil into his arms from the bench as he prepared to take the young man inside the station. Horatio didn't even have the presence of mind to help his nephew with his son, staring instead at Mand's body once more. Max hesitated a brief moment, noticing Horatio's focus, and managed to make him a heartfelt offer before stepping down the ramp with Wil.

"...I'll come back for her once I get Wil inside."

A group of medics met Max at the end of the ramp, already surrounding and assessing Wil as they all disappeared down the corridor connected to the hangar. Phantom anxiously bounded along on their heels, and Bex followed just behind the tooka after his owner. It left Horatio completely alone with only his thoughts that swirled through his head mercilessly, taunting him and blocking out everything, even the passage of time.

He felt nothing but intense fear and overwhelming pain. He should leave, his mind initially told him, he should disappear as quickly as he could and spare everyone he loved any further strife on his behalf. They would all blame him for Mand's death, as they rightfully should, and would they also punish him for it? Mand's husband Rech was still there overseeing Jewel's recovery, wasn't he? The entire facility was staffed by Paneau, and they wouldn't be able, nor would they even be willing, to counter a Jedi Master's grief-fueled assault. Horatio would put himself entirely at Rech's mercy, then, deciding instead to accept whatever fate the mourning widower had in store for him. He deserved the worst that Rech could inflict on him.

As he had said he would, Max eventually returned to the Shadow Nova's hold, studying Horatio a hesitant moment before speaking. "...they've taken Wil back to surgery. They said blood was leaking out around his heart, which compressed it and kept it from pumping very well. But he should be okay once they fix it again." He paused briefly before he slowly stepped closer, stooping to pick up Mand's body from the floor, but Horatio brought his hand up to stop him.

"No," he denied Max with surprising fervor, his jaw tense with anxiety. "...she's my responsibility."

Though Max began to protest, seemingly worried for his uncle's condition, Horatio ignored him as he again knelt at Mand's side. His battered body painfully fought against every movement he made, yet at the same time he felt wholly numb, two conflicting states he didn't have the capacity or the desire to reconcile. Focused on her alone, he willed only delicate strength into his muscles as he tucked his arms under her shoulders and her knees, cradling her frame with such gentleness. He carefully lifted her and held her lifeless form against his chest, feeling her head coming to rest so lightly on his shoulder. Closer to her than he'd been in years, he finally noticed the elegant slivers of gray peeking through her long brown hair, the faint wrinkles along her forehead and at the corners of her eyes, and the numerous small scars scattered about her face that detailed a life lived in almost constant battle. The angry gash across her temple she'd earned just days before would have left a pronounced wound to heal, but perhaps she would have let it knit itself back together, allowing it to tell another silent story about the danger she'd faced head on and survived, but...she hadn't. And that was his fault.

His vision blurred with bitter tears as he rocked himself back on his heels and painfully stood, still securing her in his hold. His balance wavered only slightly as he began to walk with her, each step as excruciating as the last. He forced his pain to fuel him, though, to push him forward so he wouldn't retreat, marching on toward his impending punishment he was fully prepared to take. Max wordlessly led him into the facility from the hangar, passing more than a dozen Paneau who all looked as distraught as he expected. He met only sad, mournful gazes on their way to a small, dark room...where Rech Natiyr awaited them, alone.

The blind Jedi Master stood before a simple, empty bed, his scarred but uncovered eye gazing down at it with little expression. He gave no outward indication that he had heard Horatio enter, silent and motionless in his place until he finally spoke, and the restrained emotion in his voice was devastating to hear.

"Lay her down."