Author's Note: We find out what happens to Obi-wan and introduce a few new friends…It's still a good idea to see Shallow Grave. Brownie points to those who identify the brief cameo crossover.

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109…110…111…

"God," Alex muttered, "Why did I have to buy the bloody flat on the bloody top floor?" He shot a glance back down the empty stairwell. At least this one doesn't have a loft…

117…118…119…120. Pushing his errant hair from his face, Alex walked up to the lone door. Home sweet home. His home. The 'Alex Law' on the plaque below the buzzer made that clear. He stared at the plaque. In the empty spaces below his, two more names appeared. Juliet Miller. David Stephens. He blinked and once again three empty spaces were below his name.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of the sudden memories and unlocked the door. He tossed his coat with its attached press ID onto a nearby coat rack. After punching the security code into the flat alarm, he turned on the TV and collapsed on the couch. However, the expected sound of his favorite game show did not fill the room, instead he was treated to a running commentary on a football game. Alex liked football with the best of them but not when it took over his favorite show. He turned the TV off in disgust, after venting a few choice words, then headed to the kitchen for a beer.

Sitting at the kitchen table, he downed a few then grabbed another and headed for the bedroom. He racked his brain for something to do since he was boycotting the TV and anything resembling a social life for that matter. Wasn't there a book somewhere that he started reading? It must be in the bedroom…

Muttering to himself about lost books, Alex began searching his bedroom, turning controlled chaos into a disordered mess. The book refused to reveal itself; though Alex's drunken searching was not exactly thorough. He searched the drawers and the closet, leaving the dusty bookshelf in the corner untouched. Then he started under the bed. After running his hand around a few times, he was rewarded with the sharp snap of a mousetrap on his fingers. A string of expletives ensued, followed by the mousetrap hitting the opposite wall.

Alex considered giving up but decided to give the bed one last try. He didn't remember putting more than one mousetrap under there…He ran his hand under the bed with a little more caution. His fingers brushed something. Stretching as far as he could rewarded his searching hand with a small box.

He recognized it immediately and told himself not to open it. But at the drunken state he was in, his body had a tendency to disobey. Inside the box was a small plastic bag containing a piece of braided hair. A long, light brown braid with red and yellow ties to be exact. With trembling fingers, Alex pulled it out of the bag. He didn't have a mirror in his room but he knew without looking that the braid would match his hair.

Almost a year ago, he had been found on the street with a severe case of amnesia. The clothing he had been wearing was obviously not his own. Making the braid clutched in his hand the only evidence of his old life to be found. He'd been told by the doctors to look at it regularly, to somehow make him remember but eventually he had stopped. The bloody thing depressed him for some reason.

On a whim, Alex threw it. He didn't see where it landed and he didn't care. Forgetting the book, he got up and grabbed his beer. He tried to remember the last time he had been out, had a date or caught a film. The lack of responses to his query drove home just how miserable a life he was living. It was up to him to change it.

He would find some flatmates.

Sitting down at the writing desk he pulled out some paper and began writing. 'Single Scottish guy, searching for flatmates, male or female.' He read it to himself. No, that sounds wrong.

Crumpling up the paper and tossing it behind him, he began again. "Flat owner, seeking three people who will put up with his personal habits…' No, too truthful.

Crumpling and tossing that one as well, he tried again. And again. And again. But each try ended with a bit of crumpled parchment being thrown over his shoulder.

Finally giving up in disgust, he turned to take care of the garbage behind him. He could always try again in the morning. Alex stood and stopped short. Instead of littering the floor, each individual piece of crumpled paper was neatly nestled within the wastebasket.

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Moonlight from two lunar bodies streamed through the hole in the wall that served as a window. On his sleeping pallet, Jedi Master Qui-gon Jinn turned restlessly in his sleep. He rolled over so that the moonlight illuminated his face and opened his eyes. With a sigh, he pulled his blanket around his shoulders and padded softly to the window. He'd been dreaming again. It was the same dream. Recurring infrequently but each time more urgent. The last time had been over three months ago during his negotiations with the Charga, one of the sects of the Aguallarians. At the time, he had been sure it related to some trouble in the negotiations but that was definitely over now.

Qui-gon centered himself, drawing on the Force in the hopes of remembering more of the dream than a distant warning. An image of a hand holding a braid flashed into his mind. Obi-wan…

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The midmorning sun shone brightly on the road to Edinburgh, or rather, one of the roads.

"On the merry, merry road to Edinburgh…No, that doesn't work," said one of the two young women leaning against a car on the side of the road.

"Mm-hmm," the other agreed, turning a page of her newspaper. "Doesn't help that we're not going anywhere." A small silence lapsed between them.

"Hey Sarah?" the first asked.

"Hmmm?"

"Have you found a flat yet?"

"Lia, if you ask me that again…"

"Then let me look." Sarah handed Liath the paper and relaxed against the car.

"Look, I found one."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sarah breathed out, annoyed and relieved that her friend had found an ad so quickly. "So read it to me."

"Fully furnished flat with a full kitchen. Three rooms available. Contact owner at (01) 8323937 for interview."

"I guess so," Sarah responded with a shrug. "The worst that could happen is that we don't get the room."

"Sounds good. I'll drive and you can make the phone call." Liath handed the paper to her friend and got in the car. With a sigh, Sarah stood and pulled out her cell phone. Dialing swiftly, she threw the paper on the back seat and

got in the car. She listened to the phone ring on the other side. Finally, someone picked up, and after a moment a groggy voice muttered, "She's not here," and promptly hung up. Sarah checked her watch, 11:23. Why would anyone be asleep at 11:23?

"I think I must have dialed the wrong number," Sarah said.

"So? Dial again." Liath glanced quickly at her, then back at the road. Sarah reached into the back of the car for the discarded paper.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Sarah dialed again, this time checking each number as she pressed the button. She hit send.

"Ring…ring…ring…"she chanted in time with the phone.

"Shut up!"

Sarah grinned. "Ring…"

"Someone had better pick up soon or else they'll find no one on the line," Liath muttered, while maneuvering through a roundabout. Sarah's grin only got wider. She was rather surprised when someone actually picked up.

"What do you want?" came a rather slurred greeting. It was the same voice from before.

"Uh, is this (01) 8323937? Did you place an ad in the paper for flatmates?"

"Oh right…" There was a long pause. Sarah entertained herself by humming the Star Wars theme softly. This guy obviously wasn't an early riser. Finally, he produced an answer.

"Yeah. I have three rooms…Did you want an interview?"

"Yes, were just inside Edinburgh now. If you could give us directions, we could be there by 12-12:30." Sarah thought she heard a groan but he responded relatively quickly by asking her where they were and giving her the directions.

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Two hours, thirteen city blocks and two narrowly avoided accidents later, they were still driving. Liath sighed and glanced at Sarah.

"Are you sure he gave us the right directions?"

"No. But he gave me his address and I have a map."

"A map of Edinburgh, I hope?" Sarah just gave her a look. Satisfied that Sarah was in as bad a mood as she was in; Liath turned her attention back to driving. She was just in time to slam on the brakes at a red light. She was also in time for two young men in some of the worst clothes she had ever seen, hurdle over the hood of the car. The first rolled to the pavement but got up and kept right on running. The second, with a rather wild gleam in his eye, turned to look at them and laughed, before running off in the same direction. It came as no surprise when two policemen passed in front of the car a few seconds later. Liath spoke first.

"Are you sure you want to live in this city?"

"Liath," said Sarah in exasperation. "It's no worse than London and we lived there for three months! Besides, if I'm reading this map right, Mr. Alex Law's flat is in a totally different part of the city." Liath sighed. She just wanted to stop driving. The sound of a horn penetrated her consciousness. She realized she was still sitting at the now green light. She pulled into traffic and turned in the direction she hoped the flat was in. Maybe they would get there in time for tea…

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The stairs twisted endlessly under Liath's gaze, giving her the dizzying impression that they were miles up. She pushed away from the banister and turned to look at Sarah.

"That's a lot of stairs with no lift in sight." Sarah shrugged. They had been on the landing for the past five minutes. Their interviews tended to go badly, mostly because the interviewers had trouble appreciating the uniqueness of the interviewees. As a result they had been living in youth hostels for the past month, an experience neither of them wanted to repeat. Realizing she would receive no answer, Liath walked to the door and pressed the buzzer. Sarah spoke up.

"Maybe this time we should be on our best behavior." Liath frowned and mouthed 'spoilsport'. Sarah figured that was as close to a promise of good behavior as she'd get. They waited. Liath pressed the buzzer again and they waited. On her their third attempt the door opened to reveal a rather groggy young man with light, unkempt, brown hair and blue eyes that focused rather blearily upon them. He stared for awhile and they stood rather uncomfortably, waiting for him to acknowledge them. His first words were typical.

"Who are you?"