A/N: Hey everyone! I wanted to thank those of you who reviewed/requested that I update this fic—you guys were the motivation I needed to get this chapter up! (Also, thanks to everyone for your patience. Life is crazy right now, but I promise this story has an important place in my heart. It won't be abandoned!) So saddle up y'all, there's a long chapter ahead (with everyone's favorite… unresolved sexual tension at the end! It seems to be the theme of season four for these two anyways, right?)


The field trip fueled Ezra's conversations for the next week and a half, to the point where Zeb could finish every story the boy started. It was hard not to humor him, though; Ezra was just so excited, and Kanan certainly didn't mind the surge of pride he felt every time Ezra brought up how much fun they'd had.

"You know, I didn't talk about my field trip for nearly this long," Sabine had grumbled on more than one occasion.

"That's because you didn't get Mr. Kanan to chaperone yours," Ezra would retort, with a smug grin on his cheeks.

"WE MET HIM THE NIGHT BEFORE!"

Sabine was grateful when a new conversational topic came up: Zeb's birthday was in a few weeks, and she soon managed to dominate dinner-table discussion with that. After one such dinner, Kanan and Hera were sitting at the kitchen table—she working, he not so much— when Zeb walked in. The teen opened his mouth, cut his eyes at Kanan as if surprised to see him, then paused and cleared his throat.

"Mom," Zeb focused back on his mother, "Have you made the appointment for my driver's test yet?"

Kanan felt the energy in the room change, as Hera set down her pen and pursed her lips. "I haven't, no."

"Mom!" In one of the most teenaged responses Kanan had ever seen, Zeb somehow managed to simultaneously fling out his arms and sink his shoulders in distress. "My birthday's in two weeks; all the spots are going to fill up!"

"I know, Zeb, but things have been busy lately—"

"Mom, it's a phone call," he pleaded.

"Zeb, you know how I feel about you driving," Hera said firmly.

He gaped at her. "I'm a good driver!"

"You're a great driver, absolutely, but that doesn't protect you from all the bad drivers, and the distracted drivers, and the drunk drivers—"

"Mom, you're being an alarmist," Zeb huffed and crossed his arms.

Hera fixed Zeb with a look. "I'm not being an alarmist; I'm raising rational concerns."

"All my friends are driving," Zeb said. "They've never gotten into accidents!"

"I know your friends, and that's luck," Hera muttered. Kanan retrained a snort and tried to make himself as invisible as possible.

"Mom," Zeb groaned. His eyes were wide, imploring. "Come on. I'm gonna be the only sixteen-year-old in the tenth grade without his license!"

"Zeb, that's a touch dramatic, don't you think?" Hera raised an eyebrow. He flung his arms out in a What do you expect me to do? gesture and blew air out through his lips. After a short staredown, Hera sighed.

"Even if you do pass the test," she began, "Which I have full confidence you will, we don't have a car for you to drive, love." Her tone had shifted from protective to apologetic.

"It's not about having a car, Mom, it's about having my license," Zeb groaned. "I have to grow up eventually, you know." He gave her a knowing look, as if he were about to roll his eyes.

Hera sighed, a wistful smile on her face. "I know."

Zeb shifted from foot to foot, watching her hopefully.

She glanced down at the stack of papers she was grading, and tapped her fingers on the table. "I'll call them tomorrow."

Zeb drew in a breath. "Really?" He tried to hide the grin rising on his face.

"Yes, really." Hera gave a thin smile.

"Promise?" He raised his eyebrows, but the attempt at suspicion couldn't mask his excitement.

"I promise," she nodded.

Zeb grinned and threw a fist in the air. "Yes!" He moved forward to give his mother a burst of a hug. "You're the best, Mom!"

Hera chuckled softly and returned to her work. Zeb dashed upstairs— already texting madly— and Kanan looked over at Hera.

"The sweet sixteen, huh?" He asked.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to eavesdrop?" She cut her eyes at him in a mock-glare.

"I'm sitting right here, Hera," he chuckled. Hera let out a long-suffering sigh, and Kanan jerked a thumb in the direction Zeb had gone. "How's the practice going?"

"Couldn't be better," she admitted. "I mean, he's a great driver, Kanan."

"So what worries you?" He asked.

"Mostly that we don't have a car," Hera said. She had resumed typing on her laptop, but Kanan wasn't willing to let the question go that easily.

"Mostly?" He pressed.

She gave a breathy laugh and a bitter smile, and hesitated before speaking. "It's stupid."

Kanan raised an eyebrow. Her eyes drifted to the staircase.

"Well, it's two things, really," Hera said, her fingers coming to a stop on the keyboard. "The factual half is that once he can drive, he'll want a car, and we just don't have that in our budget. The other half…" She trailed off, and her eyes drifted around the home. "The moment he gets that license… he can go anywhere, you know? He's already so independent, but driving is one of the few things he still needs me for. Once that's gone… he stops being my baby." Hera chuckled at herself and looked back at him. "Totally cliché, right?"

Kanan shook his head. "It's not cliché if it's how you feel."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Waxing poetry, are we?"

He shrugged. "It's true. But he's always going to need you, Hera. Heck, I was still calling my mom in college asking how to do laundry."

"I don't know if I'm more surprised that you went to college, or that you didn't know how to do laundry," she teased.

"Oh, ha-ha," he rolled his eyes, then added, "In my defense, I did eventually get one of them right."

She gave him an amused look. "College?"

He chuckled. "Laundry."

This gave Hera pause, and she cocked her head at him. Without needing to voice her question, he answered it, shrugging.

"Don't need a degree to fix cars."

Hera nodded slowly.

"Besides, we can't all be as driven as you," he teased, in an effort to lighten the mood. "It must have been nice knowing exactly what you wanted to go into."

Hera let out a chuckle and ran her tongue over her teeth. There was a noticeable delay in her response.

"Actually…" she began, tracing a circle in the wooden table, "I never really planned on being a teacher."

Kanan's eyebrows went halfway up his forehead. "Really?"

"I wanted to fly," Hera admitted, rolling her shoulders back and glancing out the window. "That's why I majored in physics. I wanted to be a pilot."

He watched her and nodded slowly, bobbing his head up and down. "Huh."

"But…" Her fingers moved around in the same pattern on the table. "Life happens. Kids come along, plans change." Hera paused and tapped the table a few times. "I do like teaching though. I mean, there's only so many paths open to an undergrad degree in physics, but, I'm happy where I ended up."

She'd moved the subject along, not unintentionally, so he played along. "Seems you're pretty good at it. Who doesn't love a science teacher that lets them make Bunsen burner s'mores?"

Her mouth dropped open. "Who told you about that?"

"Ezra's teacher might have mentioned something while we were on the field trip," Kanan grinned. Hera smacked her forehead.

"Oh my God." She looked up to point a finger at him and arched her eyebrow. "Promise me you'll never tell Principal Mothma that."

Kanan chuckled and traced an X on his chest. "Cross my heart."


Maybe it was because things were going well. Maybe it was because she'd opened up to him about her family, and past aspirations, and this felt like the last thing on the list.

Maybe it was because he was on his second drink, rather than just starting his first, but whatever the reason, that night at the bar, he decided to ask her the question.

"So," Kanan summoned his courage in tandem with a sip of whiskey and launched right into it, when they hit a slow period and he knew she would have a few minutes of rest. It was late enough that the nightly crowd had come and gone, but early enough that a few regulars still lingered, so he knew she wasn't trying to close the place down.

Hera raised a curious eyebrow, then returned her attention to cleaning a spot on the counter. He wet his lips, feeling his mouth go dry in anticipation.

"Is there a Mr. Syndulla?"

She stopped scrubbing, and gave him the kind of hard look that made him regret asking.

"I don't mean to pry," he began quickly, in an attempt to backtrack.

"Exactly the kind of thing people say when they're about to pry," she replied, a little too sharply to be teasing. Kanan tried not to flinch.

"I'm sorry, it's just… after living with you guys for so long, and not seeing anyone else… I can't help but be curious," he said, hoping honesty would get him the answer.

Hera pursed her lips, and pinned him with her gaze for a long time before answering. Kanan was just starting to feel like he'd intruded when the rag started moving again.

"He isn't a Syndulla." Her voice was cool, the words as punctuated as darts against a wall. "And he isn't in the picture anymore."

Kanan looked up at her in surprise. "Really?"

"What do you mean, 'really'?" Hera narrowed her eyes at him.

He sounded closer to incredulous than surprised when he answered, "Well… who would leave you?"

She felt a flush of heat in her cheeks, but gritted her teeth against it, wiping the bar counter with increased vigor. "He didn't leave. I did."

"Oh." Kanan looked back up. "Why?"

She looked up from the counter and narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't you think that's a little close to prying?"

He chuckled dryly, gesturing to the bar around them. "This tends to be the sort of place where people pry."

She sighed, and scrubbed the spot a little harder. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the counter.

Hera ignored the gesture. "I have work to do."

He cocked an eyebrow, leaned back, and very slowly, very deliberately, picked up his glass and spilled the dregs of his drink onto the counter. Her mouth dropped open.

"Whoops," he said. "Must have knocked it over."

She rolled her eyes at him, and with a capitulatory shake of her head, pulled out a new rag. "You're unbelievable."

He smirked. "It's actually one of my better qualities."

"Shame for you," she muttered, wiping up the spill.

"Now will you tell me?"

She dropped the rag and looked him straight in the eyes, her tone sharper. "I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell most of the single men that roll up to this bar," Hera folded her arms. "Come back tomorrow and try me then."

He gave a slow, deferent nod, and pushed his stool back from the counter. Hera watched him with narrowed eyes.

Kanan tried to lighten the mood. "Come back tomorrow, mm?"

She took his glass and sauntered away with it. "And make sure the only thing you leave on that counter is a hefty tip."

Kanan chuckled, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

"Not really!" Hera called over her shoulder.

Kanan left a twenty behind anyways. The next morning, he found the same bill tucked into his shoe.


She wasn't working the next night, and he didn't broach the subject for the rest of the week—both of them understood that their time at the bar ran in a parallel universe to the one they typically occupied, so their conversations were circumscribed to the usual, this week's theme being Zeb's birthday. On the day itself, Hera had brought the kids home from school, with Zeb grinning from ear to ear—apparently, the entire football team had serenaded him in the cafeteria—but she'd mostly disappeared since arriving home. Now, she breezed into the living room, in dark jeans and an expensive-looking turtleneck that made Kanan want to personally test it for softness.

"Hey, Kanan, I just wanted to give you a heads up, we're going out for Zeb's birthday dinner tonight—"

"Moooooom!" Ezra, dressed in a button-down, came bounding down the stairs. "This is too tight," he moaned, tugging at his collar.

"Baby," Sabine followed, snickering in a colorful jumper.

"Sabine," Hera scolded, then turned to Ezra. "Sweetie, I told you not to do the top button," she clucked with a smile and bent down to fix his shirt. "There you go."

"But why would they put it on the shirt if you're not supposed to button it?!" Ezra cried in distress. Zeb jogged down the stairs, dressed similarly.

"That's just the way it is, buddy," he said, touching his hand gently to Ezra's shoulder. "See? Mine's unbuttoned."

"Alright," Ezra pouted.

Kanan stood up. "Hera, you didn't tell me this was a formal event," he said. "You guys look great; I don't think I'll be able to pull myself together in time."

She smiled briefly at him and turned to the kids. "Ah, why don't you guys start the car? I'll be right there."

"Dibs!" Sabine and Ezra shouted in unison.

"You guys don't even know how to start a car," Zeb rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Bet I could figure it out!" Sabine chirped, as he shepherded them out.

Kanan chuckled and stood up, facing Hera. "So, where are we going?"

"Um…" Hera tucked her hair behind her ear and avoided his eyes. "The four of us are going to that steak joint, on fifth street."

"Oh." The emphasis on the word four was unmistakable. Kanan cleared his throat. "Uh, have fun."

Hera's smile was as uncomfortable as it as apologetic. "But we'll see you later, for cake." He knew she was trying to make it up to him, skimming over the awkwardness of the situation like scraping the black crumbs off burnt toast, but he could still taste the scorch.

"Right. Cake."

Kanan hated the way those words came out of his mouth, like they were still curled around the char. Suddenly he felt pathetic, for letting something like a kid's birthday dinner get to him.

Hera's shoulders sank. "I'm sorry, Kanan—"

"Don't." He held his hand up and shook his head vigorously, like there was something stuck in his hair. "Hera, you don't have to apologize. It's your family, and it's his dinner." He forced sincerity into his voice until he had almost convinced himself.

She relaxed slowly, but not entirely. "I know, but—"

He shook his head again, and even managed to grin at her. "You kids have fun, alright?"

Hera opened her mouth and then closed it, pursing her lips. She pulled her purse up to her shoulder with a tight hand. "We'll see you later."

He nodded. "See you later."

The door shut behind her, and Kanan had never felt more alone.


They came home a few hours later, laughing and smiling. Ezra had a red bow stuck to the top of his head, and it made Kanan sick with jealousy. Worse was Hera, acting almost forcibly cheery, waving the cake knife around like a party baton. Kanan knew she was trying to smooth things over, and he tried to absorb the energy in the room, but his heart felt flat. When he sat down with his plate of cake, it tasted dry and brittle, and the frosting stuck in his mouth like paste.

"Mr. Kanan, aren't you gonna eat that?" Ezra pointed at Kanan's plate with his own fork, and Kanan winced, knowing that even though Hera was still cutting pieces, she'd heard. Before he could reply, Ezra gave him a shy grin and added, "And if you're not, can I eat it?"

Kanan forced himself to chuckle. "Sure, buddy." He slid the plate to Ezra.

"Ezra, don't steal Kanan's cake," Hera called from behind them.

"I didn't!" Ezra protested, giving Kanan a wink as he switched his empty plate with Kanan's.

"I'll cut you another piece, love," Hera said.

"Thanksh, Mum," Ezra replied through a mouthful of frosting. That was almost enough to bring a smile to Kanan's face, and as Hera sat down next to them, she eyed Ezra knowingly, but didn't say anything as she slid him another piece.

Kanan pushed the crumbs around his plate until the kids had dissipated, bouncing off to try out Zeb's presents. Wordlessly, he grabbed their plates and brought them over to the sink; Hera jumped out of her chair to stop him.

"Kanan, you don't have to do that—"

"I don't mind."

He turned on the water and started to scrub, and she watched him, fretting, shifting from foot to foot. Finally Hera grabbed a rag and started to wipe the counter down and put the cake away. In a few minutes, she'd joined him at the sink to dry what he had washed.

They'd worked like this before, but those silences had always been comfortable ones. Kanan passed her one of the last plates, and his eyes didn't leave the faucet, as he said,

"I'm sorry. I just can't help but wonder."

Anxiety pricked her spine and made her stiff as she took the plate in her hands.

"Was this…" Kanan's eyes stayed level on the sink. "Was this because I asked about their father?"

Hera flinched, and it was unmistakable.

"Sorry," he said quickly, his tone completely changing. His eyes finally dashed over to make eye contact with her, and even though she was the one who'd wronged him, they held an apology. "I'm sorry, that—it doesn't matter. I never should asked."

Hera sighed, but she was grateful he was finally looking at her. Slowly, she started drying the plate.

"It's not because you asked," she said carefully. "That had nothing to do with it. But… it is about their father."

Kanan raised an eyebrow, dishes forgotten.

"It's…" Hera rubbed the towel over a plate that didn't have a spot of water left on it. "It's not exactly a happy story. Someday, I'll tell you the whole thing." She sounded weary, which made it easier to accept the obscure answer. "But… he wasn't good to us, Kanan. Ezra and Sabine were young, but, Zeb remembers that, which… makes him very protective of me."

"Of you?" Kanan fought to keep surprise out of his voice— he couldn't imagine Hera needing protection from anything.

"Well, of all of us," Hera amended. The corners of her lips turned up in a smile, but her eyes were sad. "It's hard for him to accept having someone in that paternal position again, after everything that happened."

Kanan nodded, and she continued.

"And I think with you, you know, chaperoning Ezra's field trip, going to his soccer games, drawing with Sabine… You're kind of becoming a father figure to them, and that's hard for Zeb," Hera said, then muttered, "The previous holder of that position didn't do such a good job."

Kanan nodded slowly. Hera's hands moved the towel around the plate.

"It's… hard for him to accept that you're a part of our family now," she said, her eyes sneaking up to meet his. "He's too young, but I know he already feels like he needs to be the man of the house. He just wants to protect us— after what happened, he doesn't think we need anybody else. And that's nothing against you, it just… is."

Her eyes fell back down, and her frame seemed heavy.

"What about you?"

The question seemed to come from nowhere, and her eyebrows drew together. "What about me?

Kanan's head had lifted, the same hers had, and he took a step closer to her. She set the towel down, one hand gripping the counter. His voice had dropped low, and it rolled through her like thunder.

"You don't think you need anyone else?"

The air between them was thick, electric. Their faces inches apart, he could have kissed her. Hera inhaled— a slow, deep breath, the kind that meant she was choosing her next words carefully—but her eyes didn't leave his.

"I… am…" she spoke slowly, every word trickling off her tongue like honey, "Warming up, to the idea that we might."

There was a tiny gap between her lips, one that he wanted to close with his own. She faced him openly, bravely, the thrill between them as if she'd dared him. Her eyes were magnetic.

Kanan surrendered first, taking a tiny step back, shaking his head with something like rue and grinning. Hera didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed.

"I can work with that," he said, with his gaze on her like she was a work of art. Hera's heartbeat had quickened, and hammered in her chest in double-time.

"Good," she found herself saying. She took a step back as well, before her heart pushed her into something she'd regret. "Good."

He bit his lip and chuckled, nodding his head. There was an awkward beat, and he spoke first.

"Um, really, don't worry about the dinner thing," he said.

Her eyes, which just seconds ago had been sparkling with risk, went apologetic again. "You're sure?"

Mother Hera was back—the Hera of the past moment a million lightyears away.

"Absolutely," he nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. A smirk started to form on his face. "After all, I wouldn't want to threaten the man of the house."

Hera caught on; they were switching back to banter, as they often did when they were caught in moments that they couldn't quite figure out.

"Oh no." She shook her head, the corners of her own lips turning up. "I'm the man of the house." She crossed her arms, making him chuckle. "And I'm hardly threatened by you," she added archly.

Kanan raised an eyebrow, taking a step that was close enough to put them in the same position they'd been in moments ago. He bent his head ever so slightly, just enough for her to feel the full weight of his eyes on her, and his voice dropped once again.

"Not even a little?"

Hera re-folded her arms and stepped back. "Kanan." She gave him a knowing look and edged it with reprimand, hoping it didn't reveal the shiver his voice had sent up her spine.

"Alright, alright." He held his hands up and moved backward, giving her a roguish grin as if the whole thing had never happened. "Goodnight, Hera."

She couldn't help but smile back. "Goodnight, Kanan."

He sauntered out like he knew she was watching him go.