While cut off from the GAR during an extended campaign, Obi-Wan discovers an infant and a sense of self-preservation.

Vokara speaks before he can. “I didn’t come here for your permission. I don’t need it. I am a Master Healer, and it is my right to take an apprentice.” “And you want Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Mace Windu asks. “Yes,” Vokara answers. Or, Obi-Wan is wanted, becomes a healer, and this changes everything.

It all comes down to this: the babies in his arms are just so little. “You should sit down, Sir. Let Waxer and I take the tubies for a minute,” Cody gentles. Despite the even, easy tone, despite knowing that it’s Cody and that, as the last twenty-four hours have successfully proved beyond a doubt, Cody would rather die than see any harm come to him, Obi-Wan can’t suppress his immediate reaction to the thought of putting the twins— his twins, his now, and he’ll die before he lets anything touch them—down. “Full disclosure, I don’t believe I am capable of letting go of them, at the moment.” He thinks for a beat and then adds, “Possibly ever.”

“Are you all the Council sent, then?” Bo-Katan asks, swinging one leg over the speeder’s seat. Her voice is raspy, and Cody wonders if it’s from smoke inhalation. “Considering they wouldn’t help with the first Sith, I guess I should be glad for any help at all with the second.” It's the first time he's heard someone use that word to describe Kenobi, and he bristles. “We’re not here on behalf of the Council, Miss Kryze. We're here for our general.” Or: Everyone has a breaking point. That includes Obi-Wan. That includes Cody.