A/N: Takes place somewhere around the beginning of Season Two, between "The Lost Commanders" and "Always Two There Are". Because we need more spacemom and spaceson bonding. Sorry if the formatting is off- this site wasn't cooperating with me.
Ezra was exhausted. Rex and Kanan had been bickering all day long over his training, and just when he started to focus on a task from one of them, the other would switch topics. He had escaped, claiming thirst, and then dashed to his quarters, where he was disappointed to find Zeb taking a loud, snoring nap. He knew he'd be discovered far too quickly in the common room, and the Padawan was too tired to drag himself through the ventilation shafts. He tried Sabine's room, hoping she might offer him sanctuary, but the Mandalorian was painting, something he knew she preferred to do in private. (Even if she had let him in, the fumes would have induced the kind of relaxation he wasn't looking for.) So, Ezra found himself slipping into the cockpit, where Hera was calmly guiding the Ghost through hyperspace. He collapsed into the copilot's chair without a word.
"Well hello there," Hera seemed pleasantly surprised to see him. "I thought you were with Kanan?"
"Oh, was it Kanan this time? Or am I supposed to be training with Rex? Because neither of them can seem to figure it out," Ezra muttered.
Hera's expression softened into a knowing look. "Long day, huh?"
He sighed. "The longest."
She reached over and ruffled his hair. "Well, you're welcome to take refuge here for as long as you like."
"Beep boop beep!"
"Oh, hush, yes he is," Hera scolded Chopper over her shoulder. "Make yourself useful and lock the doors."
Behind him, Ezra heard a disgruntled beep, and then the whoosh of the doors closing. He slumped down in his seat in grateful relief. "Thanks, Hera."
"I'm just sorry about Kanan and Rex. They could be incredible partners, if they ever figure out how to get along," she sighed.
"It's so ridiculous! Every day, they're fighting over this or that, or calling each other out, or criticizing the other's techniques. It never ends, and I'm caught right in the middle! I'm so sick of it," Ezra griped, crossing his arms. "I don't see why Kanan has such a grudge against Rex."
"You weren't alive during the Clone Wars." Hera murmured, her voice taking on a heavy sorrow. "Or for Order 66. I was young, but… There aren't words, Ezra, for how horrible, how gruesome it was. No matter where you went in the galaxy, you couldn't escape the death, the destruction, the bloodshed. So many people were left with so little hope for the future." Hera's shoulders sank. "It was a dark time for any of us, but for a Jedi?" The Twi'lek shook her head, her gaze drifting behind her to where Kanan's quarters would be, and let her silence answer the question.
"Rex and the clone troopers may not be stormtroopers. But when you live with everyone as your enemy for so long…" Hera trailed off. "I guess all I'm saying is, try not to blame him. I'm telling you more than I should, but we—" She faltered, and gripped the Ghost's controls tighter, "I, am asking a lot of Kanan right now. Things are tense, and he's under a lot of pressure. It would mean the world to me if you could give him that Jedi patience of yours."
Ezra slumped further. "I know."
"I know you do," Hera smiled softly. "I know it's hard, but you're doing so well, Ezra."
"Doesn't seem like it," he muttered.
She shook her head. "Kanan tells me impressed with you he is every night."
Ezra perked up hopefully. "R—really?"
"It's true," Hera nodded. "And Rex, too. He couldn't believe you'd only been with us for a year."
"Well…" Ezra folded his arms, trying to hide his joy. "Well, they sure don't act like I'm doing well. Every day it's training this, learning that, lifting this, blasting that…"
"Trust me, they may have a funny way of showing it, but they're proud of you," Hera said firmly. She reached over to put her hand on his shoulder, and gave Ezra a warm smile. "And I am too."
He couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from lifting. "Thanks, Hera."
She rubbed his shoulder affectionately. "Get some rest, kiddo. You deserve it."
Feeling as comfortable as one could be in the cockpit chairs, he let his gaze drift to the kaleidoscope of hyperspace. Hera snuck glances over to her protégé until Ezra's eyes fell closed, and his chin dipped down to his chest. The last thing he heard before he drifted off was her stern but quiet command: "Chopper, don't you dare let anyone through that door."