A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for all the positive feedback and reviews on this story- I'm glad you're liking it and it means a lot! I've had a ton of trouble getting this chapter up- it was supposed to be here two days ago, so I hope this works!

The next morning was business as usual. Hera and the kids left for school, and Kanan went to work. He had settled into a rhythm with them, which gave him a strange pleasure. He would wake up, roused by the sounds of the family bustling around, and join them at the table around seven, where he'd sit sipping coffee until the family left at 7:30. After that, he'd get dressed and do any remaining dishes (as efficient as Hera was, Sabine had a sneaky habit of leaving hers until the last second, so that she wouldn't have to put them in the dishwasher, and Ezra was usually a half-step behind his siblings, so his were out as well). He liked spending time with them in the mornings; while Zeb wasn't particularly chatty at any time of day, the twins seemed to have no limit to their energy, and were always willing to include him in conversation. He'd get ready after the kids left, to maximize his time with them, and then lock up (which, and he was quite proud of this, though he'd never admit it, Hera trusted him to do) and be on his way.

The garage had started feeling quieter, since he'd moved in with the Syndullas. In Hera's home there was always something making noise— mainly the kids, and Hera usually had the radio on, but even the dishwasher or teakettle contributed to the communal noise of family. He was starting to wonder how he'd ever lived in the silent flat above his garage.

"Alright, kids, let's get going!"

It was 7:25, and while Kanan put their coffee mugs in the dishwasher, Hera was fighting the daily good fight of getting her three children out the door.

"Zeb, do you have your football bag?"

"Yeah."

"Ezra, do you have your homework?"

"Yeah… wait, no… Okay, now I do!"

"Sabine, do you have your homework?"

"…Um…"

"Sabine, did you do your homework?"

"Of course I did! I just… can't find the sheet that I did it on."

"It's right here, Mom. She drew a picture of me on the back."

"Sabine, thank your brother."

"Thank you, Zeb. Wait, Zeb, I gave this to you as a present!"

"Well, next time, don't draw me on your homework!"

"Okay, Sabine, put that in your backpack and let's get going, love. Ezra, did you feed Chopper?"

"Yeah… wait, no…"

"Ha, I knew it! Zeb owes me a dollar!"

"Sabine, that wasn't very kind. You can feed Chopper and apologize to Ezra while he gets his shoes on."

"Fine. Sorry, Ezra."

"It's okay."

"And sorry, Chopper," Sabine made a face as she filled his bowl with kibble. Chopper yelped happily and rushed to dig in.

"Don't worry, Sabine, I already fed him some chocolate for breakfast, so he'll be fine."

"Zeb!"

The teenager held up his hands. "I'm kidding!"

Hera shook her head, a grin on her face despite them all. "Alright, my lovely children, in the car."

"Bye Mr. Kanan!" Ezra called.

"Bye Ezra!" Kanan replied.

"Bye Mr. Kanan!" Sabine jumped in, and he chuckled.

"Bye Sabine!"

Hera gave Kanan a quick wave and a smile, which he returned, before ushering everyone into the garage.

"Okay, Ezra, Sabine, in the car," Hera nudged the twins. "Zeb, a word?"

Zeb, still buttoning his coat, looked befuddled. "Wha—why?"

"Ooh, Zeb's in trouble," Sabine snickered.

"He's not, but you will be if you don't scoot," Hera said, her smile light but her tone firm. Ezra's eyes widened, and he and his sister scurried into the car.

She turned to her oldest.

"Mom, we're gonna be late," the teen bounced up and down on his toes.

Hera ignored him and folded her arms. "Zeb, have you not been eating lunch at school?"

"What?" Zeb shook his head and kept bouncing. "Why would you ask something like that? Of course I have."

Hera raised an eyebrow. "Zeb."

"What?" His gaze darted around the room but never met her eyes. "Mom, we're going to be late—"

"Zeb." Hera wasn't moving.

The teen huffed, and shifted his weight several times. Hera cocked her head while he fidgeted, and eventually, his darting eyes went to the floor.

"I…I thought it would help save money," he mumbled.

Hera all but exploded. "Garazeb Orrelios, I've told you a thousand times, you don't need to worry about money!"

"But Mom—"

"We might not be billionaires, but I make enough to keep food on the table!"

"I know—"

"And yes, money may be a little tight around here, compared to some of your friends, but that is not your concern," Hera said fiercely.

"I know, but—"

"No!" Hera threw her hands out, but then glanced over her shoulder at the car. Relieved to see that Sabine and Ezra weren't watching, she went on, her voice slightly lower but just as intense. "You should be out with your friends, not worrying about things like this!"

"But Mom—"

"You are a growing, active boy, and I will not have you starving yourself to save a few dollars!"

"You mean fifty cents?" Zeb challenged. Hera jerked back as if stunned, and his expression softened, regretful. The teen shifted his defiant gaze down to his toes and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I… I saw that they started charging us the reduced price," he muttered.

Hera deflated. "Oh," she said. "You… you can see that, huh?"

He nodded and bit his lip. "I saw it changed, and… well, you rented the room out, so… I was just worried that—"

"Oh my God, Zeb," Hera pulled her son into a tight embrace, and then stepped away, grabbing his shoulders. "Zeb, love, the last thing you need to be worried about is money. Our financial situation is fine; the reduced lunch is only temporary," she assured him. "We barely qualify for it, but I want to make sure we're taking advantage of all our resources right now, and if all four of us eat at school every day, it's one less thing we have to worry about. Every penny counts, but we're not even close to the point where we need to be counting pennies. Please, please don't be concerned."

"Mom, let me help you." Zeb sounded urgent. "I could get a job—"

"No," Hera said fiercely. "You are my kid and I'm not letting you take care of me. Not for at least forty more years," she smirked, and he gave a small laugh. "Zeb, trust me, we are perfectly fine. Your only job right now is to be a teenager."

Zeb rubbed the back of his neck.

"And to get good grades," Hera added. "And to be good to your brother and sister. And to not get hurt during football seaso—"

"Mom," Zeb groaned.

"Alright," she chuckled, and ruffled her son's hair. "Good talk."

Zeb hesitated. "You're sure we're fine?

"I'm the mom. If I say we're fine, we're fine," Hera replied firmly. "Now come on. We're going to be late for school, where you are going to buy a lunch." The last words were punctuated, and Zeb grumbled. "Don't you make me come over and eat lunch with you, you know I will," she threatened.

"Ugh, Mom," Zeb groaned, but he was trying not to laugh.

"I used to do it all the time when you were in elementary school," Hera reminded smugly, as they made their way out to the car. "You loved it…"

After dinner that night, Ezra and Sabine went to play outside. Kanan, after some convincing, accompanied them, and Hera finished the dishes. She was humming along with the radio when Zeb came down the stairs.

"Hey honey. How was lunch?" She asked pointedly.

Zeb rolled his eyes. "Edible. Which is saying something, for high school."

"Hey, I eat it too," Hera reminded him, with a teasing lilt in her voice. "It's not so bad."

"Yeah," Zeb said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and scratched the back of his neck.

Hera looked over to him. "Something wrong, love?"

"No, no, nothing," Zeb shook his head vigorously.

She gave him a curious look. "Alright." Slowly, Hera turned back to the dishes, but remained alert. The silence in the kitchen hung between them like a curtain.

After a moment, he spoke up. "Well, I've just been thinking… we never had to get reduced lunch before."

Hera kept her expression neutral, but her grip on the skillet tightened.

"And, you still have the same job and everything, so…" Zeb sounded like he didn't want to conclude his thoughts. "I guess I'm just wondering what changed."

Hera scrubbed at the skillet with increasing vigor. "Zeb, I told you, don't worry about money," she said. "That's my job."

"Yeah, but…"

She looked over her shoulder at him, when he didn't continue, and the look on Zeb's face was one part anxious and one part brave. Hera was sure it reflected her own, and kept her voice neutral.

"Yes, dear?"

"Does this have something to do with Dad?" Zeb asked. The words came out in a tumble, and he almost looked scared to find out.

Hera kept her back turned to Zeb, and set the pan down. She stared out the window in front of the sink, focusing hard on the grass, and fought to keep her voice neutral. "What do you mean?"

"Mom, you know what I mean," he said quietly. Hera sighed. She dried her hands off, took a deep breath, and faced her son.

"He… he stopped sending his child support checks," she said.

Zeb's expression shifted from hesitance to betrayal, and when he finally spoke his voice was low.

"When?"

Hera shook her head. "It doesn't matter—"

"When?!" The teen demanded. He was tightly coiled, one spark away from an explosion, and his face was bunched in a snarl.

"Garazeb—"

"He can't do that, Mom!"

Hera flinched. "I know, love—"

"He can't do that to you, that's not fair!"

"It's not—"

"After everything he did to us, to Ezra, and after everything we went through in court, and now he's not sending the checks?!" Zeb slammed his hands on the counter, making the entire kitchen rattle.

Hera pressed her lips together.

"Can't we do something?!" Zeb gaped at his mother in distress. "He has to send the money, doesn't he?"

Hera hesitated.

"That means no," Zeb shook his head. "No, of course he doesn't. That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair sometimes," Hera began.

"I don't care!" Zeb shouted. "I hate him! I hate him and I wish he was dead!" He gripped the counter and breathed heavily, glaring up at his mother and anything else in anger. Hera's shoulders sank.

"I'm sorry, love," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have told you."

"No, you should have, because I deserve to know what a shitty dad he is," Zeb snarled.

"Zeb, language—"

"I don't care!" Zeb roared. "He said worse things in front of Ezra, and Sabine, and me! He was awful, Mom, and just when I start to think he might not have been so bad, he proves me wrong, again! I hate him!"

He clenched his fists and stared down at the floor. Hera approached him and put one arm around him, then leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I hate him," Zeb said, sounding less convincing.

"It's okay," she murmured.

"I hate him," Zeb repeated. "I was the oldest, I should have known better, I should have done something…"

"Garazeb." Hera gripped her son's shoulders and stared fiercely into his eyes. "None of what happened was your fault. You know that."

"But if I had just spoken up sooner—"

"Stop." Hera shook her head. She dropped her hands from his shoulders. "You were a kid. You didn't know."

He raked a hand through his hair. "I should have known—"

"Zeb." She stopped him with a long, hard look. "Zeb, we all have our regrets, but no one can take responsibility for what happened except for him. Your father is an awful, twisted man; you can't blame yourself."

Zeb deflated, and his eyes shifted to the floor. "I know."

"There's a reason he isn't part of our lives anymore, and there's even more reason I intend to keep it that way, money or not," Hera said. She put a firm hand on her son's shoulder and looked at him with determination in her eyes. "We don't need him, Zeb."

Zeb's chin quavered, but he tried to match his mother's resolve. After swallowing hard, the teen set his jaw. "I know."