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"It sure is quiet with the kids out of the house." Hera wrapped her hands more tightly around her cup of caf, letting the heat soak into her palms. She sighed in contentment, settling deeper into her seat.
"Kind of reminds me of the old days." Kanan sipped at his own beverage, the steam condensing in beads on his mask.
"Yeah, only better." Zeb propped his hands behind his head. "They took the little clanker with 'em. Peace at last." He stretched, putting his feet on the table.
Hera glared at him. "At least Chopper doesn't put his wheels where they don't belong. Remember, he's been part of my crew longer than any of you."
"Ouch." The Lasat grinned ruefully, swinging his feet back to the floor. "I can take a hint."
The three of them sat in the Ghost's kitchen, the only sounds the hum of the engines and the soft whir of the kitchen appliances. As Zeb fidgeted, trying to find another comfortable position, Kanan took a sip of his drink, the corner of his mouth turning up. He leaned towards Hera, and stage-whispered, "Does Zeb know he's one of the kids too?"
Hera shook her head, eyeing the Lasat. "Sometimes I wonder."
Kanan took another drink, smile slowly submerging beneath a more serious expression. "Can I ask you something?"
She frowned. "Of course, luv. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's a stupid question." He swirled the dregs of his caf. "What color is Ezra's new lightsaber?"
Hera's frown deepened, and she finished her own beverage before responding. "It's not red, if that's what you're wondering. I know enough to recognize that warning sign."
"That's not what I mean," he said quickly. "It's just... I was curious."
"Okay." Her eyebrows scrunched together. "It's green."
His posture shifted slightly, and he nodded. "I thought it might be."
She set her mug down, more forcefully than she'd intended. "What does that mean? Is that bad?"
"No, no, it's not like that." He sighed. "My master had a green blade. That's all."
Hera studied his face. He’d drawn inward, shoulders hunching slightly, knuckles white against his cup. "You don't talk about her very much."
"No." There was a note of bitterness in his voice.
"What was she like?"
His jaw tightened. "She was... sharp. A brilliant strategist. Her tongue got her into trouble more than once. Although her wit was usually enough to get her out of it. She could size someone up before they said two words."
"Sounds scary," Zeb grunted.
Kanan snorted, softening. "You're not wrong. Actually, Hera reminds me of her sometimes."
The Twi’lek smiled. "Watch it." They chuckled, but she saw Kanan's face fall again. "You were close, weren't you?"
He nodded. "She was the closest thing I had to a family."
They lapsed back into silence. Hera took the empty mugs to the sink and filled them with water, then returned to the table. Zeb stood to let her back in, and she slid down to the corner with a grateful nod. She crossed her arms in front of her, her elbow just touching Kanan's. "This whole situation with the kalikori has me thinking about my mother. I think she and your master would have gotten along."
"Oh?" Kanan shifted, putting his arm on the seat behind him. She was glad to hear genuine interest pushing aside some of the sorrow.
"I was still a girl when she died," Hera admitted, "but I remember she was always helping people. She wasn't into grand gestures like my father—strategy and planning and so on—but while he was in a conference with his commanders, she'd be out taking food to the wounded soldiers." She studied her hand critically, flexing the long green fingers that her gloves usually concealed.
"People used to say I looked just like her."
Kanan smiled. "She sounds nice."
"Yeah," Zeb agreed.
Something in the Lasat’s voice made Hera turn to him. He was leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him on the table. His gaze didn't leave his clenched fists, and he chewed his words for a long moment before speaking. "My ma was on Lasan when it fell."
"Oh." Hera's stomach twisted. "I'm sorry, Zeb."
"Yeah," he grunted.
"What was she like?"
He knotted his hands, weaving his fingers into an intricate pattern. "Well, she was tall for a Lasat woman. Only a little shorter than you, Hera."
Kanan straightened, voice rising incredulously. "Really?"
Zeb shot him a wry look. "You met Chava. Lasat women are small. But my ma was on the taller side. Strong, too. She helped me train for the honor guard." He huffed a humorless laugh. "Seeing Lasats again—it reminded me of all the things I missed about home. The way Ma used to look at me. The pride in her eyes, or the way they shone after a fight." He sighed. "I miss being somewhere I fit in, I guess."
Hera reached across the corner of the table, putting a hand on his burly shoulder. "I miss my people too."
"Yeah," Kanan said softly, biting his lip.
"But" Hera continued, "you guys are my family now.” She slid her hand to Zeb's chest, and put her other one on Kanan's arm, her green skin blending with the similarly-colored fabric. "We match too."
Zeb looked down at her hand. After a moment, he covered it with his own. "Heh. I guess we do."
Kanan frowned. "I feel like I'm missing something."
The other two laughed, the Twi’lek poking the blind Jedi out of the booth. "I'll tell you what we're missing—more caf. Come on, you two can help me make another pot."