The day of the field trip had arrived. They'd be returning to school late, so Kanan drove Ezra in his truck, much to the younger boy's delight.

"This is so much cooler than Mom's car," he said, wide-eyed in the passenger's seat. Kanan just chuckled. When they entered Ezra's classroom, a swarm of fifth graders, all running, laughing, and talking a mile a minute, were buzzing in the classroom. Ezra looked to them, and then to Kanan, a longing in his eyes.

Kanan chuckled. "Go on." He motioned at Ezra's backpack. "Here, let me carry that."

Ezra slipped out of the straps faster than a jailbird out of handcuffs and disappeared into the horde. Kanan tried to keep his eyes on him, but after a few minutes of fruitless searching, he started to doubt his own ability to be a chaperone. Thankfully, Hera appeared—she'd planned to meet them in Ezra's classroom before her own classes started, to introduce him to the teacher and other parents. An older gentleman walked up with her.

"Mr. Anderson, this is Kanan," Hera introduced. "He's a family friend."

Ezra's teacher, who was old enough to be a grandparent, but had a youthful brightness in his eyes, smiled and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you. Call me Harold," he said. Kanan was about to reply when Ezra darted up, appearing out of nowhere.

"You can call him Mr. Kanan," he informed his teacher. "That's what we all do."

"Is that so?" Mr. Anderson raised a bushy white eyebrow and chuckled, sharing a glance with Kanan. Ezra nodded and dashed off to join his friends once again.

"Well, Kanan, thanks for joining us today. It looks like we're going to need all the help we can get." The teacher checked his watch. "And thank you for finding us another chaperone, Hera. I don't want to make you late for your class."

Hera waved a hand dismissively. "First hour high school physics? My kids will be late anyway."

Anderson chuckled. "No they won't." Then he turned to Kanan and stage-whispered, "Hera here rules with an iron fist."

"Hey," Hera laughed, and pretended to be offended.

"I'm kidding," Anderson assured them. "The students love her. We're lucky to have her at Alliance."

"Harold." Hera rolled her eyes to mask a blush.

"Alright, alright," He held up his hands. "You run along. Ezra will be fine."

As if he'd heard his name, Ezra emerged from the sea of boys. Kanan, who had been trying and failing to track him once again, was relieved to see he was still there. He ran over, and Hera knelt to meet him in a hug.

"Bye Mommy!"

"Bye, love," she said, ruffling his hair. "Have fun. Be good for Kanan."

"Yes, ma'am!" Ezra saluted, and then he was gone, leaving Kanan and Mr. Anderson. Kanan was trying to think of something to say when the older man spoke up.

"Ezra's very bright, you know," Anderson said.

Kanan was a little confused, but he nodded.

"And he loves animals. He's been waiting for this field trip all month." Anderson chuckled. "Just wait until you hear everything he's learned about the monkeys."


The teacher hadn't been exaggerating—Ezra seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of not just the monkeys, but every animal in the zoo. Kanan knew that Chopper slept in the boy's room every night, so it was no surprise that he liked animals, but Ezra's acumen was far greater than that of an ordinary pet lover. As they moved from habitat to habitat, he spouted facts like a fountain, and the genuine enthusiasm he had for sharing the information kept Kanan amused, rather than annoyed.

"See that bird in the crocodile's mouth? I read about it with my mom. It's a sym… symbee… something relationship," Ezra frowned, struggling over the word.

"Symbiotic?" Kanan guessed.

"Yeah!" Ezra lit up like Kanan had guessed the winning Powerball numbers. "A symbiotic relationship!"

Even a few other kids a clung close to hear what Ezra had to say. It was fun for Kanan, watching him in the school setting. Though it wasn't his place, it made him proud to see that Ezra was friendly with everyone in his class, playing and laughing with the other boys. The kid was so happy— all of them were, really. Kanan wondered what stage of life it was, when kids started to lose that unfailing optimism, and hoped that Ezra would never reach it.

Adolescence, he heard Hera's voice teasing in his mind, and couldn't help but smirk.

"Mr. Kanan, what are you smiling at?" Ezra asked. Kanan's cheeks went hot.

"Nothing!"


"Okay, kids, we're going to stop here for lunch!"

The class had meandered through the exhibits until noon, and had arrived one of the zoo's outdoor cafes.

"Alright, Ezra, what sounds good?" Kanan clapped his hands together and appraised the animal-decorated menu. "We've got hamburgers, hot dogs, pizza, mini corn dogs—"

"Mini corn dogs?!" Ezra's eyes went cartoon-character wide, but after a glance at the backpack on Kanan's shoulders, his face fell. "Oh, um, that's okay," the boy mumbled, his eyes shifting to the ground. "Mom packed me a lunch."

"Hm," Kanan frowned thoughtfully. "We wouldn't want to let that go to waste."

"No," Ezra shook his head glumly. "Mom hates when we waste food."

Kanan rubbed his chin. "You know…" he began slowly, "The lunch is in this backpack, right?"

Ezra gave him a confused look. "Right."

"And I'm the one who's been carrying it all day, right?"

Ezra hadn't quite caught on yet. "Right…"

"So really, isn't it my lunch?" Kanan raised his eyebrows and gave Ezra a slow, encouraging nod. The boy's face brightened.

"Yeah…" The smile spread on his face like a speedometer of comprehension. "Yeah, it is!"

"So, if I have a lunch, and you don't have a lunch…" Kanan continued, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. After he figured Ezra had been tortured long enough, he grinned, and spread his hands in a theatrical shrug. "Sounds like we should get you some mini corn dogs."

Ezra was trying and failing to conceal an excited grin. He tried to look serious. "I guess we should," he nodded. Kanan chuckled and pulled out his wallet.

After taking their order, the worker asked, "And would you like to add a snow cone to that for a dollar?"

Kanan knew the answer from the way Ezra immediately straightened up. "Why, yes we would," he said. Ezra beamed up at him like a pint-sized ray of sunlight.

They found a free bench amidst the chaos of thirty fifth graders on a lunch break, and sat down; Ezra with his snow cone, and Kanan holding the tray of mini corn dogs.

"You know, you'd better eat that first, so it doesn't melt," he pointed to Ezra's cone.

Ezra looked up at him with awe. "Mr. Kanan, you're the coolest."

Kanan leaned in and winked conspiratorially. "Don't tell your Mom."

Ezra knit his brow. "Don't tell her you're the coolest?"

Kanan opened his mouth, but decided against it. "You know, never mind."

He pulled the backpack open and rummaged around for the lunchbox.

"Dang, Ezra, two sandwiches?" Kanan raised his eyebrows. "Nice!" The lunch also included apple slices, peanut butter, carrot sticks, hummus, a box of raisins and two granola bars. Kanan was almost embarrassed to admit how good the homemade lunch looked (especially compared to his days of Poptart PB and J).

Ezra shrugged and licked his cone. "Mom says I'm too skinny."

Kanan cocked his head. Ezra had never struck him as skinny—a little on the lanky side, maybe, but not undernourished.

Ezra must have noticed his puzzlement, because he went on to say, "She just worries, 'cause I didn't get enough to eat when I was younger."

"Huh." The statement required more thought than Kanan had time to give it, as Ezra finished his snow cone and reached for the mini corn dogs.

"Want one?"

Kanan shook his head. "No, thanks, buddy."

"Can I have the raisins?" Ezra asked.

"Sure." Kanan passed them over. "Want to split the carrot sticks?"

Ezra dipped a corn dog in ketchup and popped it in his mouth. "Nah."

Kanan chuckled. "Maybe we'll find some bunnies to feed them to."

"Mr. Kanan, you can't do that," Ezra protested, but he was grinning.

"Sure you can," Kanan shrugged. "You just stick 'em through the fence."

"Mr. Kanan!" Ezra covered his hand with his mouth, holding in crumbs and laughter. Kanan couldn't help but egg him on.

"Trust me, the bunnies love it."

Ezra, laughing breathlessly now, had both hands up, but crumbs sprayed out all the same.


After lunch, they headed to the dolphin show. Kanan was joking around a bit with Ezra, but once the show started, it completely captivated the boy's attention. Kanan watched too, and reflected on his day with Ezra. He was lost in his musings when one of the other chaperones, a mother with expensive-looking hair, scooted over to him.

"So," she began, her voice low. Kanan blinked in surprise; then wondered how he hadn't known she was coming by the strength of her perfume.

"We're all just dying to know." The woman cast a conspiratorial glance back at her companions, and then turned it on him, her eyes as dark and mischievous. "Are you and Hera together?"

Kanan had been waiting for that question to come all day, so he just chuckled and shook his head. "No. I'm just a tenant."

"But you're here with Ezra," the woman pressed. Her eyebrows were arched up, creating inquisitive wrinkles in an otherwise Botox-smooth forehead. "I've seen you at his soccer games, too. Surely that means something, doesn't it?"

Kanan felt a flash of annoyance; who was this woman? He concealed his discomfort with a shrug. "Ezra's a great kid. I guess you could say I've gotten close with the family."

She clearly wasn't any more satisfied with his prevarication than he was with her prying, but Kanan kept his lips firmly shut. He didn't want to be rude, but he was starting to understand Hera's reservations about bringing him to that soccer game. This town was smaller than he'd thought.

The woman's mouth was a tight line, like she was trying to smile but wanted to frown.

"I'm sure you heard about what happened with her husband," she said finally, like a fisherman putting his final bait on the hook. She'd caught his interest, but Kanan refused to let her know it.

"Nope." He shook his head. "Hasn't come up."

"Oh." The mother feigned surprised and pursed her shiny lips. "Well, it's not really my place to…" She trailed off, but fixed her gaze on him, sounding anything but uncertain.

"No, no, of course not," Kanan shook his head and restrained an eye roll. He was more than curious about Hera's husband, whom he was almost certain was an ex-husband, but he had higher standards than prying the truth from this gossip girl.

The woman was watching him closely, and Kanan waited resentfully for her to say more.

"Well." She licked her lips and her expression shifted, and she pasted on a smile. "My name is Merilee, if you need anything. I'm Jason's mom."

He extended a perfunctory handshake and hoped she wouldn't expect him to kiss her hand. "Kanan. Nice to meet you, Merilee."

She gave a smile that reminded him less of a friend and more of a shark, and then slipped away. Kanan breathed in the fresh air and forced himself not to turn his head as he heard a flurry of whispering start up behind him, instead leaning forward to tap Ezra on the shoulder.

"Pretty cool show, huh?"

"The coolest," Ezra said. He turned his eyes from the dolphins long enough to give Kanan a beaming grin, the kind that was warm enough to make him feel like he'd swallowed the sun.


They returned home in time for dinner, during which Sabine hid her jealousy over the field trip by treating Ezra with a thin veil of contempt; one that quickly vanished, once the pair started discussing the dolphin show (and after a reprimand from Hera). Kanan reiterated his promise to chaperone her next one, and then headed to the garage for a few hours to catch up on the work he'd put aside for the zoo. It was late when he came back, nearly nine, and he wondered if Hera might be at the bar.

He was pleasantly surprised to find her at the kitchen table, working with her laptop open.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hey," Kanan nodded. He entered the room with the intention of passing through it, and letting her work undisturbed, but she spoke again.

"How'd it go today?" Hera asked. "I know we talked about it at dinner, but…"

He knew what she meant—if there was anything he hadn't wanted to say in front of the kids, now was the time.

"It was great," he assured her. "Really. Ezra and I both had a lot of fun."

"Good," Hera nodded. Her eyes drifted reluctantly back to the screen, but the question still seemed to hover in the air between them. He wracked his brain for more to give her.

"I, ah, met Merilee," he said.

"Oh my God." Hera looked up at him gravely. "I'm so sorry."

Kanan snickered. "She's… chatty," he said, dropping into the chair across from her. Hera snorted. She closed her laptop and pushed it aside.

"You know how some people never really leave high school?" She cocked her head. "That's Merrilee."

Kanan chuckled. "No kidding."

Hera's gaze shifted, and then came back to him. "Did she…" She faltered, and hesitantly ran her tongue over her teeth. "She didn't bother you or anything, I hope." Hera's voice masked the question beneath her words.

"No," Kanan shook his head. "I mean, she asked if we were together, of course."

He gave his most derisive snort and eye roll in the hope that it would convince her. He knew he'd breached the space between them that, for good reason, they kept tacitly untouched; Kanan just hoped she took it as a joke, rather than a subliminal message.

"Of course," Hera shook her head and gave an eye roll of her own. He was relieved and saddened that she could brush the idea off so quickly. Kanan wasn't trying to lie to himself anymore; he knew his interest in Hera ran deeper than platonic. He knew it was unrequited, too, but there was still a part of him that wondered, and it wasn't encouraging that she'd scoffed so easily at something it took him serious mental effort to dismiss.

He shook the thoughts away—he'd be here for Hera in whatever way she needed him to.

Kanan cleared his throat. "You know," he began, "After today, I get it."

She cocked her head at him, curious. "Get what?"

"When I went to Ezra's soccer game. How you felt," Kanan said. "I get it."

Hera's face fell. "Kanan, you know I wasn't upset about that—"

"I don't mean about me." He shook his head. "I mean about everyone else. I only had a taste of it today, but I can't imagine what it's like, having people breathing down your neck twenty-four seven."

Hera let out an exhale that was too heavy to be a scoff. She opened her mouth and brought her hands back to her keyboard as if she were about to write the remark off, but then faltered, and looked up at him sharply.

His eyebrows raised with interest, as Hera folded her laptop shut.

"You know what?" She said. Her eyes were piercing. "It's actually really frustrating."

Kanan got the feeling that she was voicing something she'd harbored for years. He waved a hand forward and nodded, encouraging her to go on.

Hera was watching him carefully, like a pawn shop owner appraising a new find. "Do you… do you have a minute?" She asked.

He tried not to nod too eagerly. "I have all night."

Hera's lips quirked in a furtive smile. She rose from the table, returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine, and poured. Sliding one glass toward him, she took a sip from her own and set it gingerly back down on the table.

"It's like…" Hera took a deep breath. "Your family becomes one person short of functional, and suddenly everyone's just circling around, waiting for you to slip."

"Mm," he nodded, taking a drink from his own glass.

"I mean, Merrilee's bad, but at least she's overt. Everyone else tries to mask it, you know? "And how are you, Hera? How are the kids doing?"" Hera mimicked, her expression scrunched with distaste. "I hate that question, that loaded how are you?" She rolled her eyes and took another drink. Kanan barely had a chance to reply.

"They think they're so high and mighty," Hera continued. "It's not even that they want to help, you know? It's that they want me to need it. Like they need proof that I can't do everything they can on my own."

The question about her husband was on the tip of his tongue, and Kanan had to bite his tongue to hold it in.

"You know, I missed one of Zeb's football games last fall." Hera lifted a finger. "One." She lowered her hand to the table and shook her head. "It was all anybody could say to me for the next month."

"God," Kanan muttered.

"Oh, we missed you at the game last night, Hera," she mimicked, throwing a lilt into her voice once again. "You know, all the other moms get a free pass to miss as much as they want, but me?" Hera shook her head. "It's like the more you have on your plate, the more you're expected to be there, to prove that having a job doesn't mean you love your kids any less."

Kanan frowned. "That's twisted."

Hera gave a sullen nod and took another sip of wine. She held it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing.

"Sometimes…" She started slowly and without meeting his eyes, tracing a circle on the table. "Sometimes I don't even know if I do that stuff because I want to, or because I need to prove that I can."

The words were raw. Kanan stared at her unblinkingly; the sheer honesty of her statement had floored him.

"Oh my God," Hera clapped her hands over her mouth and let out a laugh. "I can't believe I just said that out loud." She looked back to him. "You must be horrified."

"Hera," Kanan leaned forward and started to shake his head, but she cut him off.

"I just…" Hera's hands were a frenetic blur. "I love my kids, okay? I love them. I love watching their games, I love spending time with them, I love cooking, and playing, and coloring, and everything else that comes with being a mother." Her voice was vehement. "There's no 'but' at the end of that sentence." Hera's hands settled in solidarity with her words, and her eyes slipped down to the table.

Kanan looked at her closely. He raised an eyebrow.

"But?"

Hera gave a laugh that halfway through became a sigh. She ran a finger around the rim of her glass.

"But… it's hard." She said it quietly, like it was a shameful secret. "It's damn hard."

He couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his chest. Her eyes flashed up at him and her mouth dropped open, and he knew she felt more vulnerable than if he'd seen her naked and more violated than if he'd laughed at that, so he jumped to explain himself.

"Hera," Kanan leaned forward, "If you didn't think it was hard, I'd have you committed to a mental institution."

Her defenses fell, and the smile cracked her face slowly, like a sunrise, and as it rose she burst into laughter. Kanan found himself laughing too, out of both amusement and relief, and soon they were caught up in each other's mirth. He'd never seen Hera laugh so hard.

When the ruckus finally died down, she wiped a tear from her eye, grinning at him broadly, and Kanan couldn't push his cheeks down from their jubilant glee.

"Well," Hera finally said, taking a steadying breath. She lifted what was left of the wine in her glass. "To staying out of mental institutions."

"Hear, hear," Kanan echoed. Their glasses clinked, and they each downed the dregs, placing the empty cups back on the table with a satisfying thunk.

She was staring at him after they set them down, her gaze appraising, like she was seeing him in a new light.

"What?" He gave a bashful grin. Hera traced a finger around the rim of her glass.

"You called me a good mom earlier," she said carefully. "And I know I wasn't very gracious about accepting it, but, that meant a lot." Her eyes didn't meet his until the last bit of the sentence.

He shrugged, and wished he had one last swallow of wine. "It's true."

"Well." Hera traced one final loop around her glass, then looked up at him and smiled. "Some days more than others, right?"

Kanan chuckled and nodded. Hera stood up and set her glass in the sink, then turned over her shoulder and gave him one last, soft smile.

"Goodnight, Kanan."

Kanan couldn't keep his lips from mirroring hers.

"Goodnight."