Washington D.C.- 1900 hrs

Assistant Director Skinner was again at the scene of the assassination attempt. At the moment there was a heavy metal band – 'The Deaf Leopards'- on the stage, the lead musician was beating his guitar on one of the huge speakers and the crowd of teenagers was going wild. Skinner was now of the firm opinion that he was getting old, and that you'd have to be deaf to get any sort of enjoyment from the noise that the mismatched group were producing.

Then the dry ice was switched on, and the laser show, Skinner hated lasers. They always gave him a headache. The band struck up another 'tune'.

'One more look at the ceiling, and then I'm out of here' Skinner murmured to himself. With all the flashing lights and smoke no one notice the conservatory dress agent at the edge of the stage peering intently up at the stage ceiling.

Suddenly a man appeared to fall from the ceiling of the auditorium, his fall describing a perfectly timed somersault with him landing centre stage. He landed like a cat and seemed ready to spring again, right in front of the leader guitarist of the band. The player, not liking to be upstaged, swung with his instrument at the man who seemed to spring backwards at an astonishing speed, there was a brief flash of blue light and the entertainer was left holding the end of the guitars neck.

'Get this fucker off my stage!' he screamed. The group's bodyguards began to move forward. The man took up an obvious defensive posture, raising what appeared to be a shining pole in both hands to shoulder height.

'I've got a bad feeling about this,' Skinner said under his breath as he began to move towards the centre of the stage. 'FBI! Stand back, this man is wanted.'

The bodyguards froze. Skinner thrust his badge into the leader singer's face.

'Any problems?' he queried

'Hey, no. You're the man- take him. What did he do?'

'Try to kill the President.' replied Skinner.

'Way to go man, better luck next time,'

The man still stood ready to fight.

'Come with me,' Skinner commanded. 'We've got Obi-Wan.'

A puzzle expression crossed the man's face; he slightly lowered the pole.

'You've got Obi-Wan?' he queried.

'Yes,' hissed Skinner 'If you'd put away that thing and follow me, I'll try and get you out of here.'

He seemed to gaze deep into Skinner's soul before answering.

'Lead on I'll follow you.' The shining staff vanished, leaving the man holding what looked liked a handle of something. The youth, because now Skinner could see him better, attached the handle to a hook on his belt.

'This way,' Skinner indicated. 'Is that some sort of uniform you're wearing? Your friend was wearing exactly the same when he… hmm dropped in.'

'Dropped in?' said the youth

'I'll explain in the car. I think the safest thing to do is to take you back to my office. Mulder and Scully have disappeared with Obi-Wan anyway!' Skinner was more talking to himself rather than the juvenile.

'Vanished? I thought you said you had Obi-Wan,' demanded the youth.

'He'll be safe, don't worry with those two. Here, gets in.' They had arrived at Skinner's car. The youth peered into the car and then got into the passenger's seat.

'What do you use for fuel?' he asked. 'Smells like some sort of petrochemical.'

Now it was Skinner's turn to look baffled.

'You're certainly a lot more talkative than your friend was, 'he replied.

'Was?' inquired the youth, 'You said he was safe.'

'He will be safe, now he's got Mulder and Scully looking after him. He's just gone from the hospital, along with his clothes.'

'Hospital, what's wrong with him?' The youth was getting angry. Skinner checked that the safety was off his side arm in the belt holster he used.

The youth stared into the middle distance. ' Yes, he is safe. But he has been hurt, he is confused, he feels the Force, but doesn't know how to use it.' This was to himself, then he turned towards Skinner. 'I'm sorry, I'm worried about him, I now know that he is safe, but I must see him as soon as possible. Please help me.' He waved his left hand in an apparently random movement. He face showed great concern, as he spoke.

Skinner felt something – like someone gently brushing his mind- introducing an idea into it – suggesting a course of action. He looked at the boy. His blue eyes stared back; his hair was cropped in a near military cut, except for the long plait that fell over one shoulder.

Skinner pulled the car to the sidewalk, turned and stared at the boy.

'Right I've had enough of this. Who the hell are you, where did you drop from, and what are you doing to the inside of my head?'

The youth for a moment looked taken aback.

'You felt my mind push?'

'If that's what you were doing to me, yes I felt it. And I didn't like it. If you don't come straight with me right now, you'll be spending the next 20 – 30 in a State Penitentiary.' Skinner replied.

'I'm not sure what a Penitentiary is, but it doesn't sound very good to me.' The youth replied. 'My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, the person who is with your friends is my Master, he is called Qui-Gon Jinn. He is a Jedi Master, and somehow we have both ended up here, in your world. I'm sorry- Master Yoda always says my impatience is my one failing.'

'I need something to drink,' muttered Skinner, and started to drive again. He stopped at 'The Thief Taker', a small bar set in a back street. It was popular with FBI agents, as it was out of the way and run by an ex agent who had been retired out.

They entered the bar. It was nearly empty. Skinner indicated to his Obi-Wan that he should take in a seat in one of the booths – where they could both see the bar. A tall man with a bad limp approached them.

'What'll it be, boss, the usual?' Skinner nodded, 'What about you son?' he queried.

'A mala juice, if you have any,' his Obi-Wan replied.

'Yeah,' barman retorted doubtfully, and limped way.