Rating: PG
Parings: Anakin/Padme, Han/Leia,
Luke/Mara, Jyn/Cassian
Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to
Lucsafilm and the Walt Disney Company; A Christmas Carol
belongs to the estate of Charles Dickens
Sheev Marley was dead to begin with. He
was dead, as dead as a doornail, and had been for seven years. Anakin
Scrooge signed the death certificate and saw to it that he had the
least expensive funeral possible. He was Marley's soul heir and soul
mourner, and when Marley was gone, the sole partner and owner of
Scrooge and Marley, Money Lenders. He never painted out the sign over
the door. He answered to Scrooge, or to Marley. It was all the same
to him.
Oh, he was a tight-fisted
hand-to-the-grindstone, Scrooge! A grasping, squeezing, clutching old
sinner. There was never such a miser who had lived in old London
Town. Everyone in London hated him or feared him. Scrooge cared not a
whiff for their opinions. The only thing he cared about was business
and the exchange of money.
His son Luke was his only clerk. Luke,
a gentle-faced blond man with large blue eyes, shivered in his little
cubby, just off Anakin's. Luke was Anakin's son, one of his two
children...but Anakin cared nothing for family, either. The young man
got no favors; he squinted by the light of a very dim candle, and
attempted to warm his hands by it. Failing in that, he tugged his
long scarf around his slender neck and tip-toed into his father's
office to warm his hands on his tiny stove.
Anakin's eyes were sharper than Luke
believed. He'd barely gotten into the room than the older man with
the gold-and-silver hair slapped his hand with the ruler. “What are
you doing, boy?” he snarled.
“Ow!” Luke rubbed his hand, turning
the same color as the sickly glow in the stove. “I was just trying
to, um, thaw out the ink.”
“If you focused on your work, you
wouldn't feel the cold!” Anakin waved at him threateningly with the
ruler. “Now, get back into your room, or you'll be losing your
situation for Christmas!”
The young man very nearly leaped back
onto his high old chair. “Yes, sir, Father sir!”
Even as Anakin returned to going over
the mortgages, the door was flung open. The diminutive figure who
came in, dressed in green striped silk with a wide bonnet over her
heavy velvet brown braids, carried a tin cup in one white gloved
hand. Her round cheeks were red from a long walk on a chilly night.
Anakin merely snorted at her. Though she was his own flesh and blood,
Luke's sprightly and strong-willed twin, he didn't even gaze in the
direction of the green human whirlwind.
“Merry Christmas, Father.” Leia
Scrooge-Solo regarded her parent coolly. “Working hard as always, I
see.”
“Christmas!” Anakin piled a few
gold coins, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her. “Bah humbug!”
“Christmas a humbug, Father?” She
made a face. “Surely you don't mean that!”
The elderly man in the black suit
glowered at her over his books. “If I had it worked into my will,
any person who went around with 'Merry Christmas' on their lips would
be buried in their own pudding, with a stake of holly through their
hearts.”
His daughter's scarlet face lit up in
indignant anger. “Christmas, Father, is a loving, charitable time.
It's a warm and wonderful time! And though it's never put a scrap of
gold into my pocket, I say, God bless it!”
“Hurray!” Luke clapped heartily
from his cell. “You give the most wonderful speeches, sister!”
She bowed for her appreciative
audience. “Thank you, dear brother. You are the most wonderful
listener.”
Their father waved his ruler at the
tank. “How would that listener like to hear the sound of him being
sacked for the holidays?” The clapping ended quickly. Anakin turned
his ruler to his daughter. “What are you doing here? I thought
you'd be off working for that foolish charity of yours.”
“I was in the neighborhood and
thought I'd stop by.” Leia leaned over his desk, tugging her thick
wool cape tightly. “Can't you at least spare a little more coal for
the stove? It's freezing in here!”
Anakin glared. “Unlike you, girl, I
don't waste money on nonsense. Sixpence worth of coal is good enough
for any room.”
Leia gave him the same nasty stare
back. “This room is almost as cold as your soul. I want nothing
from you, Father. Luke wants nothing from you. And yet you treat us
like we're dirt in the corners to be brushed aside! Why can't we be
friends?”
Her father narrowed his icy blue eyes.
“Why, girl, why? Why did you do it? Why did you marry Solo? Han
Solo was a pirate and a smuggler. You could have had any man you
wanted. That Thomas Isolder came from a good family...”
His daughter rolled her eyes. She'd
heard this tirade since the wedding. “He was also rude, conceited,
and egotistical. He wanted me to stay at home and make babies. I
can't do that, Father. Han understands that. He's a good man now. He
runs a shipping business that's doing very well. We have a son! Han
loves me, Father, and I love him, and we love Ben, and that's all
that matters.”
“Love!” Anakin rolled his eyes,
unconsciously resembling the woman before him. “That is the only
thing sillier than a Merry Christmas!” He flipped open his ledger
again.
Leia slammed the ledger shut and stared
angrily at him. “You didn't think so when Mother was alive.”
Anakin was very close to hitting a
woman with his ruler. “Don't you ever mention her name! Ever!”
“Father,” Luke said from his cell,
“why don't you want to talk about Mother? Did something happen
between you two before she died?”
The ruler waved threateningly at Luke
again. “You, stay out of this.” He returned to Leia. “You,
daughter, are quite a speaker. If you were a man, I'd suggest you run
for Parliment.”
“I'd do many things if I were a man.”
Leia sighed. “Including getting you to listen to me. All I wanted
to do was ask you to the party Han and I are holding tomorrow night.
Most of the members of my charity and all our friends and neighbors
will be there. If nothing else, come talk to your grandson. Ben was
just apprenticed to Edgar Snoke at the Bank of England, and he very
much admires you.”
“That apprenticeship is the only
sensible thing you've mentioned since you arrived.” Anakin smirked.
“I knew Snoke would be good for the boy. Get some of those
mealy-mouthed ideas his father planted out of his head.”
“I'm not so sure I agree.” Leia
shook her head. “Snoke has even fewer scruples than you do. Ben's
starting to act more and more like him.”
Anakin started scratching on his ledger
again. “I'm too busy for parties. Load of rubbish, if you ask me.
You'd be better off using that money for your own business ventures.”
“It's only once a year, and it makes
so many people happy.” She sighed and gathered her papers. “It's
no use. I shall keep my Christmas humor to the last. I hope you have
a good Christmas, Father.”
Luke waved from his tall chair, nearly
sending himself toppling to the floor. “Merry Christmas, Leia! I
might try to bring over Mara and the family a little later.”
Leia hugged him. “Merry Christmas,
brother!” She went over to his chair to give him a hug, then
continued in a softer voice. “How's Temiri? I know you said he
wasn't strong...”
He bit his lip. “I'm not sure he's
going to last much longer. If only we could afford the treatment...”
“We'll find a doctor. Most of my
money is going into the charity, but there has to be someone in
London who can help him and is willing to take a lower fee.” She
rubbed his head, mussing his hair. “So buck up, brother. It'll be a
wonderful holiday. You'll see!”
“Hey!” Luke laughed as he pushed
Leia off his head. “That was my hair!” He smoothed the unruly
golden waves, then gave her a hug. “We'll see you Christmas Day.”
Leia squeezed him tightly. “See you
then!” She glared at Anakin one last time for good measure before
slamming out the office door.
The door had no sooner closed than it
opened again. Two well-dressed people entered, both carrying tin
cups. Anakin knew them both well, in another lifetime. “Snips?
Ahsoka?” He frowned at the young woman with the reddish skin in the
orange and blue print gown and the white wool cape, her long black
braids hidden under her snowy bonnet. “Ahsoka...Miss Tano...what
brings you here? I haven't seen you since you were were smaller than
me.” An older man with a snow-white beard and a heavy green coat
followed behind her. “And Captain Rex Fett. Shouldn't you still be
in the Royal Army?”
“I'm retired now, Anakin.” The
craggy-faced gentleman shook his cup. “Me and my mates are doing
work for an old friend.”
“Sky...uh, Mr. Scrooge,” Ahsoka
began, “we're representing the Alliance Charitable Fund. At this
time of year, it's customary for us to gather funds for the poor and
destitute.”
Ashoka shivered at the look her former
employer gave her. It would have frozen the Thames in July. “Are
there no work houses, Miss Tano?”
She only nodded. “Plenty of work
houses.”
“And the prisons?” The older man
flipped through his books. “Are they still in working order?”
Rex bowed. “Yes, they are, sir.
Still, I wish I could say they were not.”
She pulled a pad out of her velvet
drawstring purse. “What will I put you down for?”
Anakin's head went back into his
ledger. “Nothing.”
Rex frowned. “You wish to remain
anonymous, sir?”
“I wish to remain alone!” The aging
businessman shot up with a roar. “I pay taxes for the services I
mentioned. They cost enough. Those who are badly off should go
there.”
“But many can't, sir,” Ahsoka tried
to explain, “and many would rather die!”
“Then let them die, and decrease the
surplus population.” Her former guardian sat back down, his fingers
wrapping around the quil. “Besides, I don't know that.”
“No, you don't.” Ahsoka's blue eyes
hardened. “I can see we've wasted enough of your time, Sky...Mr.
Scrooge. Good afternoon.”
“Mate,” Rex said quietly, “you're
not the man I thought you were. Maybe if you'd live in the present a
little, you'd understand how these people are sufferin'.”
His friend dipped the quill in the
inkwell and started scratching numbers on his ledger again. “It's
not my business to know, Captain Fett. You tend to your work, and
I'll tend to mine.”
“Wait!” Luke waved to Ahsoka.
“Here. My wife and I don't have much, but we have enough to put a
roof over our heads. Many don't even have that.” He quickly dropped
a few coins into her cup, before Scrooge realized what he was doing
and lectured him on wasting money.
“Thank you, sir!” Her smile
stretched from ear to ear. “Bless you!”
“And a very merry Christmas to you,
lad,” the captain added in his gravely voice.
“A Merry...” Luke looked over his
shoulder to make sure Scrooge wasn't listening, then added, “a
Merry Christmas to both of you as well!” The duo thanked him
heartily and were on their way.
Scrooge and his son worked long into
the night. The lamplighters were just beginning to ply their trades
when Anakin shut his ledger for the night. “You'll be wanting the
full day off tomorrow, I presume?”
“Father, it's only once a year.”
Luke gulped. “I did promise Mara I would spend they day with her
and the children.”
“How Sheev Marley took in such an
opinionated woman, I will never know.” Anakin sighed at his
offspring's hopeful face. “Very well. You can have the full day,
but be here by 9 sharp on Boxing Day morning, or it comes out of your
paycheck.”
“Oh, thank you, Father!” Luke
leaped down from his chair and snatched his worn old overcoat from a
hook on the wall. “You're so kind!”
Anakin took his own coat as well.
“Never mind the mush. I only agreed to it because no one else will
be open tomorrow. Everyone in this entire town is a fool but me. I
want to save the coal for a day when there will be actual work to
do.”
“That's true, Father.” Luke
couldn't get his long muffler and worn hat on fast enough. “Merry
Christmas...I mean, I know, Bah Humbug, Father!”
The little clerk dashed out as fast as
his legs could take him. He joined a group of boys on the ice near
the grocer's and slid five times in honor of it being Christmas Eve,
then rushed home, just in time for Blind Man's Bluff and charades.
His dear Mara had kept dinner sizzling hot for him, and his children
were all ready to give him kisses and chatter a mile a minute about
Father Christmas and the pudding Mother was making for the holiday.
Scrooge went in the opposite direction
to his lonely home on a dark street in one of the oldest parts of
London. On his way, he passed the First Order Savings and Loan, a
bank which he had put up the capital to begin with his colleague
Snoke. Already, it was returning it's original investment with double
the interest. He'd heard rumors whispered among other businessmen in
the city that the Savings and Loan inflated their interests and had
cheated several lower-income families out of their hard-earned
pennies. Scrooge brushed this information off as petty gossip.
“Greetings, Mr. Snoke. Closing up, I
see. I heard you'll be open tomorrow.” Privately, he thought the
old skinflint dressed far too extravagantly for a man of means. His
rich yellow suit and fur-trimmed overcoat came from the finest and
most expensive tailor in London. Even his brown leather shoes
gleamed.
“Only for a few hours in the morning,
enough for some of our younger clerks to get some work done.”
Snoke's smirk was entirely too satisfied. “I have some of the best
young minds from Oxford and Cambridge working for me, Scrooge. I
suppose you're still clinging to that meek mouse of a son of yours.”
“He works cheap, which is more than I
could say about those spoiled youths in your office.” Scrooge
nodded as a sober young man dressed all in black joined them. “Hello,
Benjamin. I'm glad to see someone in your family has a brain in his
head.”
Benjamin nodded. He had his father's
thick, wavy hair that blew in all directions and the nose and chin
that jutted out just a bit too far, but he'd also inherited his
mother's deep brown eyes and soft pale skin. Those eyes were nearly
as icy as his relative's. “Thank you, Grandfather. I'm looking
forward to beginning my career here. Mr. Snoke says that if I stay
with him and work hard, I could move up to junior partner by the
spring.”
“Junior partner!” Anakin shook his
head. “Why, I was junior partner with Sheev Marley within three
months of my joining him. You work hard, lad. Keep your nose to the
grindstone. Don't waste your time with day-to-day distractions.”
“I intend to do just that,
Grandfather.” Benjamin had a deep voice that belied his thin face.
At least he'd filled out a bit since he had last seen him. A few
months ago, he was about ready to ask Snoke if he ever fed the boy.
Now, Benjamin more closely resembled a foot soldier for the military,
rather than one of the greatest young financial minds in England.
They parted ways shortly after. Snoke
returned to his massive mansion in one of the most fashionable
quarters of Mayfair. Benjamin went home to his parents, where he
spent the rest of the night quarreling with his father about how much
he was spending on their family dinner the next day.
Scrooge made his way through the fog
and ice to his street. No beggar stopped him to ask for a shilling.
No man requested of him the time of day. Children playing in the
streets darted out of his way. Even the dogs of the blind men seemed
to know him, taking their masters around him rather than dealing with
his wrath.
The rooms in which Scrooge lived had
once belonged to his partner, Sheev Marley. They were in an ancient
house that were let out to a few other people, in quiet and lonesome
part of London. Scrooge had just pushed the key in the lock like he
always did when he happened to notice the knocker on the heavy wooden
door. It was a large brass knocker, slightly tarnished with age and
frequent use.
As Scrooge continued to stare at the
knocker, it changed before his eyes. He found himself staring right
into the face of Sheev Marley. It could be none other. It was him
before time had left him a frightening hag of a man, when he still
had those keen blue eyes and the thick silver hair. It wasn't
real...yet, it seemed so real, that Scrooge was almost tempted to
reach out and touch it.
Suddenly, the face let out such a wail
that Scrooge jumped back! When he recovered sufficiently to return to
the steps, the face had vanished, and become a knocker again. “Bah!”
Scrooge grumbled. “I'm just seeing things. It's this miserable
weather. It gets into your bones.”
Scrooge took a candle and walked his
usual melancholy way up the creaking staircase, caring not a whit for
the darkness. Darkness was cheap, and Scrooge liked it. Darkness
meant not wasting money on a lamp that could go back into the
business, where it belonged.
When he arrived, he slipped into his
night clothes and cap, and put together a pot of gruel for dinner.
His mind couldn't help returning to the sight of Marley's head on the
knocker. No matter how much he analyzed the situation, he couldn't
come up with a rational explanation for how this had come about. The
lengthening shadows of evening were making him increasingly nervous.
He jumped at every noise as the old house settled.
And then...it happened. A small bell
rang sharply to his right. The bell had originally been used to call
servants, but he hadn't touched it since he lived there. There was no
wind in the house, and he wasn't close enough to it for it to knock
against him.
No sooner had the bells ended, then the
scrape of chains being dragged across the wood floors. “Go away!”
Scrooge called as he triple-locked his doors. The rattling chains
became louder and louder, joined by a long, loud moan.
“Annnnakkkinn Scroooggge...” It
couldn't be. Sheev Marley walked through his door without opening it,
without touching the knob. He was transparent, like a ghost, and yet
Scrooge could see that he looked the same as he had the day he passed
on. Same black velvet waistcoat, much-tattered and worn now, same
silk blouse and breeches. The white handkerchief around his head was
new, as were the chains he dragged behind them. He was wrapped with
chains, chains that were attached to ledger books and cash boxes and
safes. They held him down, forced him to jangle slowly across his
parlor floor.
Scrooge gulped. “Who...who are you?”
“Ask me who I was,” the spirit
boomed.
“Then who were you?” The older man
made a face. “You're particular, for a shade.”
“In life,” the spirit intoned, “I
was your partner, Sheev Marley.”
“I don't believe it!” His former
partner waved a finger at him. “You could be an undigested bit
gruel or leftover tea that didn't go down properly. There's more of
gravy than of grave about you!”
Marley let out such a wail that Scrooge
dropped his pan and yanked his cap over his ears. “Spare me the
horror melodrama! Why do you torture me so?” He waved that finger
at him. “You always enjoyed it. Ordered me around like a child,
like I was still your student.”
“I have come to warn you, Anakin.”
Marley somehow manage to speak by barely moving his lips. “You may
still have a chance of escaping my fate.”
“But Sheev,” Anakin protested
feebly, “you were always a good man of business.”
Marley's blue eyes narrowed as he gave
Anakin such a glare, he ducked down as far as he could into his
chair. “Mankind should have been my business, Scrooge! Humanity and
their welfare should have been my business!” He waved that finger
in Anakin's face. “Tonight, you will be visited by three spirits.”
“I think I'd rather not.” Anakin
nearly turned as pale as his deceased partner. “One ghost is more
than enough!”
He threw his hands over his ears as
Marley wailed even louder than before. “If you do not heed their
warnings,” he moaned, “you will not be able to escape my fate!”
Somehow, Marley managed to glide to the window despite his chains.
“Look at them, Scrooge! Look at the spirits!” A long, bony finger
pointed out to the courtyard below. “They were all good 'men of
business,' and now they're condemned to live in misery!”
Scrooge timidly followed Marley to the
window and peered outside. Ghosts of every description moaned and
screamed on the frost-bitten grass of the yard. All wore waistcoats
and were bound by heavy chains. Three were locked together; another
was held down by a chain attached to a great iron safe. One man
reached desperately for a mother wrapped in scarves and her sickly
child, but the chains kept him from aiding her.
The moaning became so terrible, Scrooge
finally slammed the window shut with a resounding crash! He looked up
as a knock was heard at the door. “Mr. Scrooge! What was that
banging all about? People are trying to sleep at nights!”
He opened the door. No ghosts, no
Marley. He'd vanished without a trace. Only Jyn, the young woman who
was the landlord of the building with her Spanish husband Cassian.
“What's with all the yelling, mate?” She grumbled, her pretty
face pursed into a sour grimace, and pulled a knitted wrap around her
rumpled night shift. A candle flickered in a tarnished brass holder.
“Half the household has complained about the banging up here.”
Anakin frowned. “I thought I saw
something outside, Mrs. Andor. It startled me so that I slammed the
door without thinking. It won't happen again, I can assure you.”
“See that it doesn't.” Jyn made a
face. “You're fussy enough about the rent and the cost of repairs
for this place as it is. Cassian and I do enough to keep this old
house from fallin' apart around our ears without your constant
yellin' over somethin' or other. Good night, sir.”
“Good night, woman!” Scrooge rolled
his eyes as he left. Jyn was nearly as difficult to deal with as that
black devil of an employer of hers. He'd only had to deal with Saw
Gerrera, a former army general, twice, both times when he was selling
property. The old man was so tenacious about getting the better of
the deal and so obsessed with making sure his property was well-used,
he vowed never to deal with him again.
Anakin took his own candle from the
small table in the parlor and used it to check every inch of his
rooms. All was in the usual order. His meager wardrobe was
undisturbed in the closet; the few books and other papers he owned
sat on the shelves in perfect unison.
“It was that gruel, that's what it
was.” Anakin set the candle down and blew it out. “Just some bad
gruel.” He snuggled down into the threadbare brocade covers. “I'm
sure I'll forget all about this in the morning.” No sooner had he
closed his eyes than he fell into a deep sleep.
