Horatio's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, engaged as he hadn't yet been.

"...taken? What do you mean, taken?"

Baxer lowered his head again, tears freely flowing onto the table as he continued to weakly apologize. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry - I'm sorry I - I couldn't - I wasn't - I'm sorry -"

"What do you mean, taken!"

Wil quickly gripped his father's shoulder to pull him back, desperate to calm him. "Let's all just...take a break for a minute, okay? Take a breath. Dad, a word..."

Before Horatio could argue further, Wil shoved him hard toward the edge of the booth, continuing to force him out of his seat and to his feet despite his protests. He maintained his grip on Horatio's jacket as he stood, as well, pushing him a dozen more footsteps away to speak to him quietly while also allowing Baxer time to compose himself behind them.

"Beating answers out of him is not going to help."

Infuriated at being forcibly removed by his son, Horatio fumed. "He's the one who brought it up!"

Wil lifted his hands towards him in a calming gesture, keeping his voice low and controlled. "I know, but...well, look at him." Briefly glancing over his shoulder to gauge Baxer's recovery, Wil sighed sadly as he returned to his father. "We need to approach this...delicately. He's obviously carried so much guilt and grief for so long, it doesn't take much to drown him in it. We should be gentle."

"Nothing about my past is 'delicate'. I never had the luxury to be 'gentle'. Why should I give him what I never had?"

Visibly disappointed, Wil furrowed his brows. "Dad."

Horatio shook his head, holding a pointed finger in Wil's face. "I wanted nothing to do with this for a reason - "

"And you said you owed it to Jewel and to me."

Interrupted but unable or unwilling to argue further, the elder Sheridan let go of a long breath, slowly lowering his hand back to his side. He flicked his stony gaze over Wil's shoulder at their friend who had mostly quieted, studying the Arkanian still seated in the booth. The subtlest, slightest hint of pity surfaced in his expression for a swift moment, disappearing the instant he returned his attention to Wil.

"Fine. What now?"

"Now," Wil answered graciously, pausing to contemplate a plan, "we...finish our drinks, grab something to eat on the go, and we all go back to the Shadow Nova."

"Absolutely not, I'm not bringing him aboard my ship - "

"Oh, it's your ship again?"

"I don't want him anywhere near it; he could compromise everyone we brought with us - "

"You said earlier that he had followed us from the spaceport, so he already knows where we came from."

"We don't know anything about him or what his true motivations are. No, we stay here, in public."

"The ship will be a quiet, comfortable, and private space for us to talk - "

"No. I don't trust him."

Finally seeing an opportunity, Wil softened his voice once more. "I do, and I believe what he's saying." Just edging out an eye roll from his father, Wil continued, pleading for his sympathy. "Look, I know you don't, but listen to me. I can sense his pain in the Force. It's radiating from him so freely, I'm having a hard time even shielding myself from it. He feels so intensely guilty for what happened to you and your sister that it's crushing him, and I know you can see that. He believes that it was his fault. Finally being able to tell you what happened, what his side of the story is, even if you don't forgive him...he simply needs you to know."

Horatio's gaze was locked with Wil's for a long, tense moment, neither Sheridan saying a word or moving from where they stood. Even though the bustle of a modest diner flowed all about them, the air full of chatter from other patrons and the clanking of utensils on dinner plates and the smell of spices and roasted meats, Wil registered none of it. He was wholly focused on his father, wishing him calm, empathetic thoughts, hoping to quell the rage and foster compassion...

As if a switch had been flipped, Horatio's hard features began to soften noticeably, eliciting another long exhale from the elder Sheridan.

"...you are too much like your mother."

Not expecting such a response, Wil blinked. "How do you mean?"

"You're too eager to only see the best in people, despite plenty of evidence to the contrary."

Wil gave him a wan smile. "I'm hoping it'll help you see less of the bad."

Though Horatio couldn't return the smile, his gaze lingered on Baxer behind Wil, finally relenting after a long pause.

"The second he steps foot on the ship, I don't want him out of sight. Yours or mine. Ever. Got it?"

Wil nodded gratefully, gripping his father's shoulder in a gesture of his thanks before he returned to Baxer to propose their new plan.

"...and bef-before I had even t-tu-turned around, the droid already had a new scomp! But it was too big to retract into itself, so it r-r-rol-rolled around the shop for days, knocking everything off th-th-the shelves! It made such a m-mess mess but Kaz couldn't stop laughing - he loved th-that little droid."

Wil laughed with Baxer, easily imagining the chaos in a droid repair shop that was already filled to the brim with spare parts and half-demolished droids of all shapes and sizes. He could almost hear his grandfather's laughter mixed in with Baxer's as a distant echo, connecting to him in the Force through his best friend's stories of the past. Baxer quickly brought him back to the present, though, lightly placing his hand on Wil's shoulder from his seat beside him at the Shadow Nova main hold's central table.

"You...you remind m-m-me so much of him, Wil. S-so so, so much."

Baxer's intense gaze was firmly locked on Wil's face, studying him for a long, almost awkward moment. Wil shook his head with another laugh, glancing briefly at Horatio silently seated across from him as he deflected Baxer's interest.

"It's my eyes, right? I get that a lot."

"No n-no no no," Baxer countered unexpectedly. "You have Kaz's h-h-hair. Same color. Almost the s-sa-s-same same look! And your face, your face, your smile, it's...it's Kaz, too. So much! But your eyes..." Baxer's voice softened considerably, almost with reverence. "Your eyes... They are...hers."

Mesmerized with anticipation, Wil matched Baxer's volume. "'Hers'?"

"...my mother?"

Baxer looked to Horatio to answer him directly, his eyes glinting with memories as he nodded. "Effiri..."

Already so taken with everything Baxer had said so far about Kasimir, Wil waited breathlessly to hear about his grandmother as the Arkanian continued.

"She was...so beautiful. A waitress at a can-c-cantina by our shops. Deep black hair, wavy and th-thick, with these...mystical gr-g-green and brown eyes. Kaz was s-s-so so smitten the first time we saw her, we went back ev-every-every night for days to find her again. We became such frequent regulars th-there we had a standing res-re-reserva-vation at one of the back hovels and n-no no one ever challenged us for it. Kaz worked his charm on h-her, night after night, while I sat back and w-wat-watched, laughing at him as a best f-r-friend should. But it didn't take l-lo-long to become serious.

"He promised her a life a-aw-way away from Coruscant. On a...quiet world. Safe. And she...she wanted that. So much. They were making their pl-plans to leave when...wh-whe-when when they realized Effiri was...pregnant."

Without meaning to, Wil again turned to his father, curious how the elder Sheridan would react. But if Horatio had reacted at all, it hadn't changed any outward expression on his face that Wil could see. He maintained the same neutral affect, breathing calmly despite the barrage of information Baxer had been sharing with them since they'd returned to the ship hours ago. Baxer appeared unaffected by Horatio's blank state, however, seeming to feed off Wil's insatiable curiosity along the way instead.

"I had never seen Kaz...as happy as he w-w-as was...the day you and Recero were born, Horatio. You...you both were...s-so so loved. So loved." Baxer's voice faltered and shook with bittersweet emotion he clearly fought to contain, eventually finding the courage to continue as Wil gave him an encouraging smile. "You took you first st-s-t-step steps in my shop. I-I-I I looked after you both just as-as much as Kaz did. Having three sets of of, sets of eyes helped us better keep track of two sets of feet. Recero would get into my...my pastries, but you were always p-pl-play playing with droid parts. Filthy. All the time."

"And then what?"

Horatio's sudden, harsh question quickly crushed any wistful memories that had been lingering, leaving only pain on Baxer's face. Wil's rebuking glare at his father went unanswered as Baxer finally managed to respond, inferring what Horatio's question was meant to reveal.

"And then..." he frailly breathed, his spirit destroyed, "...we shattered."