"Kanan, that dinner was so good," Hera said with a sigh as she flopped onto her bunk beside him, her stomach filled with a warm and pleasant fullness, "I could marry you right now."

It had been well worth the extra supplies Kanan needed for the meal – chicken marinated in a mixture of lemon juice, nerf milk yoghurt and a colourful variety of cooking spices, combined with onions, tomato, butter and cream in a smooth, rich curry sauce. Credits well spent, thought Hera. Very, very well spent.

"I thought you said you didn't want to get married," said Kanan. He lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, looking at her with a teasing grin.

"I don't," Hera confirmed. Marriage came with a label, and labels came with expectations, obligations and commitments. As deep as her feelings for Kanan were, she had other obligations and commitments. When Hera committed to something, she honoured that commitment wholeheartedly, and right now, she was committed to a cause she had no intention of diverting her attention away from. That's not to say she wasn't committed to Kanan, and him to her, in a way. They wouldn't have gotten as far as they had without their unwavering support of one another. It was just easier for them to be... them. "And you agreed, remember?"

"Because if anything ever happened to you, then I'd legally inherit Chopper."

Hera's eyes narrowed. "Oh, you want to go there right now."

"No, actually," Kanan replied. "As I said before, that droid is a major turn off."

Hera raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Well, you complaining about my droid is a major turn off."

He sighed. "Can we please talk about something other than Chopper?"

"Fine." She shifted, leaning in a little closer to him. "I meant what I said before."

Kanan's eyes lit up. "About marrying me right now?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, about dinner. It was amazing."

"Well, I can't take all the credit," Kanan said. His eyes unlocked from her gaze and moved to look down. "Depa... she used to cook sometimes. She was good at it. Really good, actually. She taught me a thing or two."

"Sounds like she was an amazing woman."

"She was."

Hera placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think she'd be proud of you," she said softly.

His eyes lifted to meet hers again. "For what?"

"Just," Hera moved her hand to rest it against his cheek, "being you." She smiled. "You're a pretty great guy, Kanan Jarrus."

He smiled back. It was impossible not to. "You're not so bad yourself, Hera Syndulla." Understatement of the millennium, he thought. Force, there weren't enough words in the Basic language to describe how he felt about Hera.

They stayed that way for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes until they both felt the mutual pull, like a magnetic force, to move closer until their lips touched in a slow, gentle kiss.

Once they pulled apart, Kanan settled down beside Hera, his arm looped around her. She relaxed into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder, her breathing already steady and eyes closed as she gave in to her drowsiness.

She was on the calm, pleasant precipice of sleep when Kanan asked, "Sure you don't just like me for my cooking?"

She smiled in a silent laugh, not even opening her eyes as she replied. "I'm pretty sure."


Kanan scooped a serving the yellow mixture of rice, lentils and spices into each bowl and set them down in front of his crew mates where they sat around the ship's kitchen table. Hera began eating right away and Zeb, after one spoonful, declared that he was going to need a second bowl.

Sabine sat twirling her spoon absentmindedly in her bowl, glancing around the table, a sorrowful look swimming deep in her eyes.

"Um... Hera... is it okay if I go to my room?" she asked, dropping her spoon back into the bowl. "I'm not hungry."

"Uh, sure. Yeah. That's okay," Hera replied, caught a little off guard.

Both Kanan and Hera watched as their newest crew member left the table and hurried away to her room. It had only been a few weeks since Sabine had officially joined them. Both Hera and Kanan had picked up on the clues early on that the girl carried some hurt from a rather complicated, emotionally painful past, one which she had so far shared very little about. It was clear she didn't really trust them yet, didn't really feel fully at home, but they both knew those sort of things would take time. They did what they could to help her feel welcome, worked at building a relationship and ensured they gave her space and privacy. They knew Sabine was capable and didn't need them treating her like a small child, but that didn't stop them from worrying, or caring from afar.

"Maybe she's not feeling well," Kanan theorised later, as he began cleaning up.

"I want her to feel comfortable telling us things like that too." Hera sighed and crossed her arms. "Besides, I don't think that's it."

"Do you think we should go talk to her?"

She shrugged. "Maybe"

Just then, Chopper wheeled towards them, warbling something about an incoming transmission.

Hera sighed. "Okay, Chop, I'll be there." She turned to Kanan. "I've got to take this, but I do think we should talk to Sabine after."

"It's okay," he said. "I'll go talk to her. You handle the transmission."

Once Hera dashed off, Chopper following close behind, Kanan made his way to Sabine's room, a re-heated bowl of dinner in hand. He knocked on the door.

"Uh, Sabine, it's Kanan. Is it okay if I come in?"

"Uh... yeah, sure. Come on in," she replied. The door slid open and the distinct scent of paint wafted out to greet him.

As Kanan stepped inside, his eyes were immediately drawn to the colourful spray-painted patterns and images that now adorned one of the room's walls. "Wow, I like what you've done with the place," he commented, and it was the truth. When Sabine had asked recently if it was okay for her to get some art supplies and decorate her room, he and Hera had taken it as a heartwarming sign that Sabine had truly accepted her place in their crew and intended to stay long term. Plus, the girl had a real talent and passion for artistic expression.

Sabine's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah. It brings some colour to the place. It makes it your own."

"Thanks," Sabine said with a smile, though it quickly faded. "But you didn't just come here to talk about my art, did you?"

Kanan hesitated for a moment, not sure what to say. He hadn't entirely thought this through, beyond the offer of food as a comfort.

Sabine sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I left dinner," she said, moving to sit on her lower bunk. "It's just..." She looked down at her feet, wringing her hands in her lab. "Sometimes, it's hard eating at a table with you guys, like we're a family." She paused, hesitating, and folded her arms across her body. "It makes me think about... my family."

Kanan took a few steps towards her bunk and waited for her silent nod of consent before taking a seat beside her. "Do you... wanna talk about it?"

She sighed heavily. "Not really."

He nodded. "That's fine. You don't have to," he assured her, and watched as the girl's shoulders relaxed with relief. "Anyway, the main reason for my intrusion was to see if you wanted this," he explained, gesturing to the bowl in his hand. "I heated it up, so it's still warm. You don't have to have it though, obviously, if you're not hungry. I just thought you might –"

He stopped as Sabine reached over and gently took the bowl from his hands. "Thanks, Kanan," she said, her face soft in an expression of genuine gratitude.

Kanan smiled. "Well then," he said, rising from his seat on the bunk, "I'll, uh, leave you to it then." He made it to the door, but paused, and turned back to her. There was something else he needed to say. "Sabine."

The girl looked up from her bowl, her eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"I know you said you don't want to talk about it, and I respect that. Believe me, I've got plenty of things in my past I don't really talk about either. But I've found that sometimes it helps to have someone you can talk to when those things feel particularly heavy. So, if you ever need that, just know that, Hera and I, we're here for you, okay? You're a part of this team now," he said, though another word danced on the tip of his tongue, and he had to stop himself before he said it – family.

Sabine nodded. "Thanks. I'll... um... keep that in mind."

He turned to leave again and was almost out the door when –

"Kanan."

"Yeah?"

He turned to see Sabine scooping a second spoonful of the meal into her mouth. She swallowed, then smiled. "You're a really good cook."

Kanan smiled back, a pleasant warmth filling his chest. "And you're a really good artist."


"I thought you said it was time for training. Why are we in the kitchen?" Ezra asked, frowning in confusion.

"Today's lesson is going to be different," said Kanan. "Hey, can you grab a couple of knives? I think they're in that compartment."

"You want me to levitate knives?" Ezra asked as he retrieved the utensils and set them down on the bench.

"We're not levitating anything," Kanan explained. "We're cooking."

Ezra crossed his arms and frowned. "How's cooking going to make me a Jedi?"

Kanan set a variety of vegetables out on the bench. "This isn't about being a Jedi. This is about being a person."

"I know how to look after myself," Ezra snapped. "I've done it for a long time."

"I know," Kanan said calmly. "Cooking is about more than that. It's about patience. Focus. Making the best out of what you've got. It's about looking after others, as well as yourself." After scanning the set up to ensure they had everything they needed, he clapped his hands together. "Okay, let's get started."

It began as most of their training exercises did – Kanan took the lead, attempting to demonstrate and explain as he began chopping the onion, pepper, and garlic, and mixed the ingredients with some water in the turbo-blender. He then delegated tasks to Ezra – chopping up more vegetables, setting the temperature on the heating plate and watching over the ingredients as they bubbled inside the pot.

They bickered.

("Stay on your side of the bench!"

"I am on my side of the bench!")

("Ezra, have you ever heard the story of the carrot that chopped up itself?"

"No."

"Neither have I. Get to work.")

("Can you watch what you're doing?!"

"Sorry I got distracted thinking about food."

"Well, how about you try focussing on preparing the food instead and, more importantly, the knife in your hand!")

There were mishaps.

("Uh, Kanan... slight turbo-blender malfunction."

"Yeah, the malfunction is you didn't put the lid on."

"Oh.")

("Why can I smell burning?"

"Yeah, uh, about that... the potato caught fire."

"The potato did WHAT?")

After a while, however, the two of them settled into a sort of rhythm. It felt almost instinctual, working together like this, as one, in a way that complemented each other. It was like a mission – they both had jobs to do, all of which were smaller parts of a much larger objective. By focussing and co-ordinating themselves, they were able to successfully complete the main task at hand and achieve their goal. Thankfully, this mission didn't involve the Empire. Or being shot at. That was always a plus.

"So, how did you learn to cook?" Ezra asked, watching as Kanan stirred the bubbling ingredients in the pot.

"My master taught me."

The realisation struck Ezra. His faced softened. "That's why you want to teach me, isn't it?" he said, feeling a twinge of guilt for his initial attitude towards the lesson. "To pass on what you learnt."

Kanan sighed. "I may not have the most extensive and in depth level of Jedi training, but when we decided we were going to do this, that meant making a promise to teach you everything I know. This," he said, gesturing to the pot in front of him, "is something I know."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you're a good teacher," said Ezra sincerely. "And a good cook."

The smell of burnt potato still lingered in air, irritating Kanan's nose, and there was almost certainly vegetable mash splattered on every surface in the kitchen, including himself, but looking at his padawan, all the Jedi could think was, Worth it. Worth the mess. Worth the frustration. It was all worth it. Not for the appreciation, though that was nice too. No, worth it for the lesson. For the time together. For the passing on of knowledge. For the memory they could both look back on fondly one day and laugh about.

He smiled. "Thanks, kid."


"Sabine! Zeb!" Hera called out. "If you're hungry, Kanan and Ezra cooked dinner."

It didn't take long for the pair to make their way to the ship's kitchen.

"Ezra cooked?" Sabine said, her expression a mixture of surprise and a grimace.

"Oh, that's it," said Zeb, throwing up his arms, "we're all going to die."

Hera shot them both a sharp, disapproving glance.

"I meant, uh, die of excitement for... how good this food is going to be," Zeb stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Isn't that what I said?"

Sabine snorted. "Nice save." The two of them took their seats at the table alongside Hera and Kanan, just in time for Ezra to approach and declare, with unnecessary exaggerated flair, "Dinner is served."

As Ezra took a seat, Chopper wheeled over and placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of each of them, warbling something about deserving a generous tip for his high quality service.

Sabine ate a spoonful of the stew. Her eyes widened. "Wow, this is really good."

"Wait, was that a compliment?" asked Ezra in a teasing tone.

"More of an observation."

Ezra relaxed back in his chair, hands behind his head. "I'll take it."

"Sabine's right," said Hera. "This is amazing. You guys did a great job."

"Yeah," Zeb agreed. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."

Lively conversations continued through dinner, though Kanan didn't say much himself. Instead, he sat back and took it all in. The smiling, the laughter, the joking around, the joy radiating from his fellow crew – his family. It filled the air with all-encompassing warmth and all Kanan wanted to do was soak in it, to let it warm his heart and revitalise his soul, to remind him that despite all the darkness the Empire spread across the galaxy, right here, inside the Ghost, there was light, and there was love.

He wondered if Depa knew her gift to him would continue to bring him joy and warmth like this.

He never really spoke of it, but when he cooked, he often felt connected to her, in a way. He remembered the lessons, the occasional messes, the meals they shared, the joy, the laughter, the comfort her food brought him when he needed it. He felt a sense of pride, of honour, in passing those gifts on, whether through his own cooking or the passing on of his knowledge. Her knowledge, which he built upon, and perhaps, someday, Ezra would too.

"I see what you mean now, Kanan." Ezra's voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned to his padawan. "About what?"

"About cooking being more than just looking after yourself," said Ezra. "It brings people together, like this."

Kanan nodded. "It sure does, kid," he said, feeling the warmth wrapping around his heart once again. He smiled. "It sure does."