Meeting Liaa just outside their cabin door, Wil spoke softly to her, inclining his head.

"Liaa, I didn't mean t-"

But she swiftly quieted him, reaching up to press her thin turquoise finger against his lips with an earnest smile on her face. Her gentle eyes expressed her thoughts perfectly without any words: she didn't want or need his apology, supportive of him regardless. They had long communicated their feelings to each other well without needing to say much aloud, a language he was quite thankful for while still deciding how best to speak to his father. At least she wasn't holding Wil at fault for Horatio's foul mood, he mused, hopeful the elder Sheridan had calmed in the interim. How much had they discussed? Had his father made good on his threat to not speak of their new friend at all, or had Liaa encouraged him to open up somewhat?

Wil's shoulders sagged as he let go of a long breath once more, mustering up the courage to step closer to their cabin. Attuned to his distress as always, Liaa lifted up onto her toes to give Wil an affectionate kiss on his cheek and a gentle stroke of his jaw before she left him to his task, returning to the main hold. Though a small doubt in the back of his mind told him to apologize to his father later and return to the diner to talk with Baxer without him anyway, he shoved it down, hearing Cordira's sage advice echoing through his thoughts instead.

The door opened with a swift whoosh at his command, revealing Horatio seated on the bed, his elbows on his knees with only a soft light on a small table beside him. The elder Sheridan looked up and met his gaze with a neutral expression, but he made no further movements, hardly even seeming to breathe. As Wil stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he allowed the silence to linger a long moment, reaching out to the Force to hopefully guide his words.

"...I know you said you didn't want to talk about this anymore, but, you don't have to. Just...listen."

Wil watched his father for another brief moment, gauging his receptiveness with subtle cues. Though he hadn't broken eye contact, which was encouraging, he also hadn't given him any further wordless permission, meaning Wil still had to tread carefully. He softened his voice with the deepest sincerity he could.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have pushed you. I wasn't taking your experiences or your feelings into account, only focused on sating my own curiosity. And that was wrong of me to do, without discussing things with you first. So I am sorry. And I ask for your forgiveness."

Though it was delayed and hardly noticeable, Horatio finally nodded to accept Wil's apology, returning his gaze to the floor between his feet. A rush of relief left him with a short breath, but it lasted only a few quick moments. He felt a creeping wave of disappointment in himself, immediately wishing he had said so much more to accept his equal fault in their argument and to atone for the harsh words he'd leveled at his father. He had begun to draw in a breath to continue, but Horatio was first to speak, halting him.

"I wasn't even eight years old...the first time I killed someone."

Blindsided by the confession, Wil could only listen and watch in silence.

"I had been working for a junker named Kuliko, bringing him the best, most valuable parts I could scavenge from our sector in exchange for food and a safe place to sleep. But it had been days since I'd brought back anything useful when I overheard some passing spacers talking about a speeder that had crashed into the side of a building in the lower levels that morning. It killed the driver, but the speeder itself was still mostly intact. And very valuable. It wasn't easy to get to if you didn't have repulsorcraft of your own, so I had to climb to it. And the smaller you were, the faster you could climb.

"But a rival junker clan had also discovered the speeder. I raced over to it as fast as I could, but I was too late. This other kid had almost disconnected its entire engine by himself, working on the last few wires and bolts when I realized...he was alone. And so was I. We made eye contact, and we understood at the same time that only one of us was leaving with that engine...and that we were both starving and desperate enough to kill for it.

"I still remember the look in his eyes. He wasn't much older than I was. Every square inch of his face was filthy, covered in grime, even his hair, so his eyes were the only expression I could see. He hesitated a second, just one fleeting moment, and I had already landed my boot in his chest. He fell backward off the speeder's tail, but he also pulled me with him, and he was heavier than he looked. I would have been killed, too, if I hadn't already been gripping the speeder's rear seat. I kicked at his hands gripping my ankle with my other foot as he screamed and begged, offering to split the rest of the haul with me if I pulled him up. But all I could think about...was how many days I could spend sleeping without having to fight for parts in yet another scrum pile of other scavenger kids like me. How many days I could go without having to dig through spoiled food in a garbage bin to find maybe one good bite of something that wouldn't kill me. Maybe there were other valuable parts in the wrecked speeder, but nothing was going to win me as much favor as that engine.

"I looked down at my foot, at my boot that was stretching looser and looser, and I met the kid's eyes again. And he knew. He knew I was sending him a thousand meters to his death on whatever junk pile there might be at the bottom of these lower level trenches. With the slightest extension of my foot...my boot slipped free, and...and the kid fell with it."

Though Horatio's hands had been freely dangling between his knees as he sat hunched over on his bed, Wil saw them clench into fists, a vain attempt to disguise their sudden shaking.

"His screams haunted me for months, maybe even years. At any point after that...event, if I ever wondered where my family was, wondered if I could find them...I told myself that they'd never welcome back such a monster. I was capable of such horrible things, and I could do it well and without hesitation...so I never deserved a family or anyone to care about me. I was never meant to be loved."

Wil stared in disbelief, overwhelmed with emotion for the torment his father had suffered for so long. So much of his hardened personality and guardedness was so obvious to Wil now, revealed in one devastating story that had clearly been a foundational experience. He felt even more guilty for having pushed Horatio into hearing about his family's history against his will, but he somehow felt compelled to offer his father absolution, if he would accept it.

Slowly stepping to Horatio's side, Wil took a careful seat beside him on the bed, again keeping his voice quiet.

"You did what you had to do to survive. I know that. And I know Mom knew that, too. She trusted you, she knew you'd do what was right when it came down to it. And you did. You've helped so many people, me included.

"You're not a monster, Dad," he concluded softly. "You're a survivor."

Just as before, Horatio's delayed nod of agreement was weak and easy to miss, but it allowed Wil to finally release an anxious breath as the tense silence continued. A full minute had passed before Wil heaved another sigh and stood from the bed, prepared to return to the ship hunting team in the main hold.

"...do you think Baxer's still at the diner?"

It took Wil an eternity to realize that not only had he heard Horatio's question properly, but that he'd also not yet answered. He turned back to face him, meeting his father's gaze once more as a weak laugh escaped him.

"He better be. I gave him enough credits to feed a garrison."

Though he still seemed extremely reluctant, Horatio nodded once more, also slowly standing from the bed.

"Then we'd better not keep him waiting much longer."