A Star Wars Christmas Carol, Part 2

Anakin awoke to a silvery chime, coming from the side of his bed. “What's this?” He snatched the clock. “Midnight? Why, it was nearly quarter-past when I went to bed. Surely something hasn't happened to the sun to make it stop revolving? An icicle must have gotten into the works.”

As he fiddled with the clock, he became aware of a radiant golden light coming from the foot of his bed. A figure stood by his headboard, dressed in a snow-white robe, it's dark hair bound with blue ribbons barely visible under the hood. She was small and delicate, like an old woman, yet her face was smooth and without a wrinkle. The light danced around her in waves, giving her the look of a fairy, or a witch.

“Who are you?” Scrooge grumbled. “What are you doing in my room?”

Her voice was clear and tinkling, like the unused bell in that corner. “I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, Anakin.”

“Long past?”

“No.” She smiled a little at him. “Your past.”

He frowned as she went to the window. “Why do you trouble me?”

She opened the window with a wave of her slender reddish fingers. “Your welfare.”

Anakin clung to his old quilt. “Frankly miss, a good night's sleep would do far more for my welfare than traipsing around London in my night clothes.”

“Your reformation, then.” She beckoned him to the window. “Take heed. Come.”

Scrooge held back. “But I'm mortal. I'll fall.”

“A touch of my hand,” she said with her silvery tinkle, “and you shall be upheld.”

“Something tells me I should have stayed in bed.” Scrooge still did as he was told, grasping her hand as firmly as he could.

To his shock, they soared out the window, flying over London. He couldn't feel the cold or the wind, only the air as they seemingly floated past roof tops and black tree limbs and chimneys. Gradually, the houses thinned, and the trees became more numerous. The roads were fewer and less-traveled. As he looked down, he could see young boys running to and fro, pelting each other with snowballs in the yard next to a worn old manor built from red brick that had mellowed into a deeper nut-brown.

“I...I think I know this place.” Scrooge couldn't believe his eyes as they landed right on the front lawn. “I remember it so well. This is Coruscant Manor, my old school. I was a boy here.” He laughed as two youths rushed by them, pelting each other with snow. “There's Kitscher! He was my best friend. And Wald! He was the best at snowball fights.” He waved to the boys, but they didn't acknowledge him, or even look his way. “Hello, boys! It's been so long!”

The Spirit put her hand on his shoulder. “This is merely the shadow of things that have been. They are unaware of our presence.” She glided through the snow, giving off shimmering beams with every swish of her cape, as she lead him to a window. “Look here. A solitary boy sits in the class room. Do you know him, Anakin?”

“Know him?” Anakin hated the lump that rose to his throat as he observed the tow-headed child hunched over a story book. “Too well. I was that boy, once. That's young Anakin Scrooge.” He smiled as the child poured over the story, his eyes gleaming with delight at the pictures. “Oh, that's 'Robinson Crusoe!' It was one of my favorite stories in school. I loved reading about the parrot most of all, with it's rainbow plumage and those feathers like lettuce sticking out of the top of it's head.”

The Spirit nodded. “Too bad you don't show that type of imagination in your business dealings today.”

That was when...she hurried in. A tiny creature, bedecked in pink ribbons and frills and a velvet bonnet of the very latest style of forty years before. Anakin's breath caught in his throat. She'd never looked so beautiful, even as a girl of fourteen.

“Padme.”

“Anakin!” Padme rushed to his side, her dark brown curls flying. “Your mother has sent me to bring you home! Old Watto has relented. You can come home for the holidays! We'll see so much of each other!” She threw her arms around him, almost lifting him off his feet.

His throat tightened as another familiar figure followed her. “Ben.” He was taller than her, a lanky youth in a reddish overcoat and short, bristling ginger hair, his grin nearly splitting his face. He reached over and gave his friend a hug.

“You're going to come home with old Quenton Jenson and me.” Obi-Wan Benjamin Willkins gave his younger friend a big hug. “You and your mother will stay with us for as long as you like. I already heard your mother is courting a fine farmer named Cliegg. Quenton and I will be your tutors, and neither of us will ever have to return to this place. Oh, we'll have wonderful times!

“Oh Padme, Benny!” He threw his arms around Obi, then Padme. “Padme, you must live forever! Forever and ever! You're like an angel! Mr. Kloon told me about angels. He said they're the most beautiful creatures in the world.”

Padme turned quite scarlet in the cheeks as Obi-Wan snickered. “No one lives forever, Anakin! What strange things you talk about!”

“Padme,” Anakin said quickly, “I have a gift for you. I made it in shop class, from some of the birch wood that grows here.” He handed her a carved pendant on a chain. “I made one for Mother, too, but this one is special. I worked on it all night, and it's the best thing I ever made. I was going to ask Ben to take it with him when he went home for Christmas, but now I can give it to you in person!”

She ran the smooth carving over her fingers. “It's beautiful, Anakin. You do wonderful work. I think you're really gifted.”

He blushed. “Thank you! It's just something I did after school. I'm glad you like it. I hope Mother likes hers, too.”

“Children! What are you doing, gossiping in the school room?” All three turned around as Quenton Jenson, Ben's guardian and a teacher at the schooll, entered. Anakin was normally fond of his lessons, but today, his face looked dark and implacable under his long brown queue. His heavy brown jacket gave him a look of menace.

“We're just...we're talking.” Ben pushed Anakin and Padme behind him. “I swear it won't happen again, Quenton. Really, it won't!”

That was when Mr. Jenson let loose with one of his rich, deep laughs. “Not to worry, Benjamin. I was just going to ask you if any of you would be interested in a picnic lunch with me before you leave for the holidays.”

The children gasped with delight as he produced a basket of hard-boiled eggs, fruit, and nuts. This was accompanied by a curiously heavy butter cake and curiously light wine. When the quartet had laughed and joked and had their fill of the feast, they helped Quenton load Anakin's trunk into his great silvery sleigh and drove off into the afternoon.

“Quenton was such a good man,” Anakin murmured. “He was a wonderful teacher. It was a great shock to us when he died in that robbery in Camden Town. I was glad Benjamin managed to catch that thief Maul Dathomir. Benjamin and I needed each other more than ever after Quenton passed away.”

The Spirit only reached for his hand. “Come, Scrooge. There's still much to see.”

They had no sooner stepped out of the school room than they found themselves on a festive street in London. It was Christmas Eve night, and the lamplighters were plying their trade, scurrying from pole to pole like mice on a kitchen floor. The lights flickered in one large window before them that. Scrooge new that window, and he even more recalled the young face that peered through it.

“Do you know this place, Scrooge?” The spirit asked gently.

“Was I ever apprenticed here?” Anakin grinned back at her. “This is old Yoda Fezziwig's loan company! Benjamin and I had our first jobs here!” He pressed his nose against the frosted windowpane, watching the activity inside.

There he was, now a strapping young man of twenty, his ways not yet set. His short golden hair was pulled back into the braid worn by many apprentices. Benjamin, now a bit older and more filled-out, sported a heavy apron over his working clothes. There were other apprentices, men and women, pretty French girl Aalaya Secura, brilliant black-clad Luminara Unduli, and Caleb Dumas, who was at the ripe age of 12 was the youngest errand boy the firm had ever had. Kit was a handsome youth whose thick braids and winning smile made him popular with the young ladies, while Quinlan possessed a peppery temper and fondness for a good after-hours brawl in the local tavern.

They were overseen by the intimidating moor, Mace Windu, with his shaved head and tight purple vest and breeches. He skulked around the room, giving short barks to everyone within firing range. No one dared went against his orders! Anakin privately believed that, given the appropriate eye patch, Mace could well pass for a pirate or the head of some undercover spy network.

“No more work today will there be, young people.” Anakin's smile grew wider as Yoda Fezziwig shuffled down the stairs from his own office. He looked just as he remembered him, with that slightly greenish wrinkled skin and the ears that jut out on both sides and made him look something like a fairy-tale elf. “Christmas Eve, it is. No day to work, it is. Mr. Scrooge and Mr. Willikins, move the desks to the side, you will. Miss Secura, bring the gifts to the main table. Set up the dishes for the feast, Master Windu and I will. Be our best Christmas ball yet, it will!”

Scrooge couldn't help laughing. “Yoda was ancient, even when I was a lad. He said he was 69, but we thought he was 900, if he was a day. He was a good man, though. Firm but kind. Patient. Never paid us less than we were worth. He could be cantankerous, but he was wise, and always fair in business.”

The Ghost raised an eyebrow as Scrooge pulled back and sighed. “What is it?”

He shrugged. “Just wish I could talk with my son right now. He's a lot like I was then.”

The room was cleared quick as a wink. Anakin and Benjamin moved in tandem, laughing and joking together about their work, Yoda's strange speech patterns, and all the pretty ladies they hoped to dance with at the party. A small girl, her long black braids bound with blue ribbons flying behind her, rushed about, sneaking sips of apple cider and teasing Anakin when he dropped a box on his foot.

“Snips,” he whispered. “Lord, it's Snips, when she was just a child of 13. I took her under my wing when Mr. Kloon brought her here. Benjamin and I taught her everything we knew, when we could keep her out of trouble.”

He remembered every moment of that night. All the guests came in, each and every one red-faced from the cold and their holiday spirits in their high-waisted gowns and velvet breeches and waistcoats. Here came tiny Mrs. Maz, Yoda's wife, who was known as a terror who spoke her mind and lorded it over her husband. Here came their daughters, and the six young gentlemen whose hearts they stole. Here came three of Aalaya's suitors, all of them crowded around the lovely daughter of France in her blue silk dress and twin braids. Stern Luminara, dressed in black even at a party, preferred to stand to the side and ladle the punch into pewter cups.

He laughed even heartier as a troop of soldiers arrived, shouting and saluting and ogling the ladies. “There's Captain Rex, and all of his regiment. I think they were mostly related to him. I always marveled at how alike they all looked. I never knew most of their names. We just called them by their nicknames. Is that Fives, and Captain Cody? He was a good friend of Ben. Yoda had belonged to their regiment in his day, and many of them trained with Master Koon at his school.” A small boy pushed his way between them, trying to get at the sugar plums wrapped in foil on the tree. “And there's little Robert Fett! Jim Fett's boy. Quiet lad, but he could be a handful when you angered him.”

That was when she arrived. His Padme. His lovely, sweet Padme. She was on the arm of her father, the Lord Amidala, a highly ranked member of Parliment. He hadn't seen her since she was sent to finishing school in Paris and he went to London for his apprenticeship.

“Ben,” the young Anakin gasped, grabbing at his best friend's arm, “there she is! What will I say to her? What can I say to her? She's rich and beautiful, and I'm...”

“A good man with a good job who's coming up in the world.” Ben nearly shoved him right into her. “She's an old friend, Anakin. Why don't you say 'hello' to her? That's only proper.”

He would never forget how nervous he was. The sweat gleamed on him in the lamplight under his tight paper collar. “I'll do it if you come with me.”

Ben patted his back. “What are friends for?”

It was little Ahsoka who finally managed to drag Padme away from the glittering throngs of men and women who surrounded her. “Miss Amidala,” she squeaked in her girlish voice, “Anakin wants to talk to you! He's one of my best friends, and he thinks you're the most beautiful woman in the whole world!”

“Really?” Padme chuckled as Anakin's face flamed. “Well, I'm flattered, Mr. Scrooge. It's been a long time, hasn't it?”

“Yes, it has.” Anakin coughed, trying to remember his words. Did he have words? What were those? “Uh...well, it is nice to see you again, Miss...uh, Padme. That's right.”

“It's nice to see you again too, Anakin.” She opened her silk fan from the Orient with the printed flowers. “I missed you when I was in Paris. You've grown so much since then! I hardly recognize you.”

“You've...you've changed, too,” Anakin stammered. “You're even prettier than I remember. More...more you.”

Ben grinned as the music started. “I think I see Lady Satine of Mandalorshire over there by the punch. I'm going to have a talk with her. Why don't you two dance? Get to know one another again.”

Ahsoka tugged on Anakin's sleeve. “If you dance with Lady Padme now, you have to promise to give me the next dance on your card. I've only danced with Caleb, and he's such a baby! He kept stepping on my toes.”

“I will, Snips.” He patted the little girl on her head. “I promise.”

Anakin sighed as the musicians launched into a dreamy strings ballad. He and Padme glided across the floor, lost to the world. It didn't matter that he wasn't much of a dancer. All they cared about was each other and being together.

“I'm glad Yoda holds this ball every year,” Padme was saying. “It's so kind of him.”

“We always look forward to it.” Anakin's smile was rather dazed. “He holds a spring ball before Easter as well. They're the best times of the year. He even gives the leftovers from the party out to the less fortunate.”

Padme sighed. “I feel terrible for those people. So many citizens of London are ill-clad, hungry, and either have insufficient shelter, or no shelter at all.”

“The poor have places where they can go.” Anakin made a face. “Sheev Marley, Yoda's accountant, says that the work houses should be plenty sufficient for people who can't even be bothered to find a decent job. They're sponges, Padme.”

“Not everyone is lucky enough to have the opportunities we've had.” Her pink lips twisted into a frown. “I convinced my father to take me to one of those work houses. They're hotbeds of abuse and neglect. Someone should help these people.”

Her suitor shook his head. “What they should be doing is helping themselves. Mr. Marley says that the self-made man is the most justified. If we constantly do things for them, they'll come to expect it, instead of landing on their own two feet.”

“I know of this Marley.” Padme nodded at the older man sipping punch in a corner. He dressed simply in dark blue that brought out his keen eyes and silver hair. This was before that terrible disease later that left him resembling a hundred-year-old crone in his 50's. “He was my father's accountant, until Father dismissed him over missing funds. He didn't think he could trust him.”

“Your father was wrong,” Anakin shot back. “Mr. Marley is a good, kind man. He's been very helpful for me. He's would never steal.”

She eyed him from across the room. He was already talking to Mace Windu; their arguments could be heard over the din. “I'm not so sure I agree with that.”

The song ended all too soon. Ahsoka dashed over to him, snatching his hand. “Come on, Anakin! Rex said the next song is going to be a lot faster than that last one! I'll show you all the steps Aalaya taught me! They're the latest dance steps from Paris!”

“I'll join you in a second, Snips.” He turned to Padme with a red face, and not entirely from the dance. “How long are you going to be in town? Would you like to join me for a cup of tea at the shop around the corner tomorrow?”

“We're going to be giving out our boxes to the poor tomorrow at Camden Town.” Padme leaned over and smiled at him. “But I'd love to get together with you for tea the day after.”

His handsome face glowed like the lamps that brightened the walls and tables. “I'd be honored, Padme.”

“Anakin!” Padme grinned and pointed upwards at the dark green leaves and white berries over their heads. “Look where we are!” She grinned and gave him a deep kiss before he could escape. “Merry Christmas, Anakin!”

He could only give her a dazed smile when they pulled apart. “Uh...yeah. Merry Christmas!”

Scrooge couldn't help himself. He felt his feet move with the beat of the dancers. He chuckled as Ben blushed as he chatted with lovely Lady Satine. Old Yoda danced remarkably well for a man of his years and height, and his wife was even better. They lead the dancers through reels and jigs that left everyone breathless and hungry for the piles of sugared fruits, dates, nuts, and sandwiches stuffed with turkey or venison.

Only Anakin and Ben remained in the end to help Yoda and Mace return the furniture to their usual places. “That was the most fun I've had in...well, maybe in my life!” Anakin remembered himself saying.

Ben nodded, his grin a little dreamy as he thought of the lovely Lady Satine. “Was there ever such a party?”

Anakin took his coat as soon as he set the last chair in place. “Was there ever such an employer?”

Ben took his coat and scarf. “No, never! Yoda's as good as gold and better!”

“All right, you jokers.” Mace took his own coat. “Let's get you two home to your families, before Anakin's mother has my head.”

“A small matter,” the Ghost stated as Mace blew the last light out, “to make these silly people so full of gratitude.”

“Small?” Anakin growled. “It's not small at all! Those parties cost a fortune, but he did them because he himself was a good man under that cranky demeanor, and he wanted to make us happy.”

The Ghost merely nodded and beckoned with her torch. “Come, Scrooge. There's still so much to see.”

They flashed-forward to the tea shop where he met Padme on Boxing Day. He even remembered that yellow-pink dress and the gold snood she wore. Padme did always believe in dressing in the height of fashion, even when she was delivering food to the foulest parts of London.

One meeting for tea turned into many. There were skating trips, rides into the countryside, dances, picnics. He laughed as he showed off for her on one venture to her family's country home, Naboo Estate. They had a massive picnic in the garden, and he tried to show off by riding a horse bareback. When he fell off and she went to see if he was hurt, he pulled her with him, and they went rolling and laughing all the way down the hill.

“We used to have such fun together.” Anakin's voice caught in his throat. “Sometimes, Ben would join us with Lady Satine, or we'd take Ahsoka to a candy shop for a treat, but it was usually just the two of us. Padme had the gentlest, kindest heart in England. She had the extraordinary ability to make everyone around her happy, even when she herself was hurting.”

Just as Padme and Anakin were walking back to the Manor, his mother's fussy old assistant Cedric dashed over in his golden livery, his pinched face as nervous as ever in his gold glasses. “Oh dear! Master Anakin, come quickly! Your mother was riding home from church when she was in an accident with a drunkard driving a carriage. She's in critical condition at your stepfather Cliegg's home even as we speak.”

“Mother.” Anakin barely got out a strangled whisper. The only woman he had ever loved as much as Padme was his mother. She'd largely raised him alone before marrying Cliegg Lars, and then raised Lars' son Owen as well. She never turned down a person in need, never let a dog go hungry. How could this happen to such a good woman?

All he remembered of that day was giving Padme his leave, then rushing home to his stepfather's farm just outside the city be by his mother's side. He got to her bedside just in time. He was told by a doctor and her crippled husband Cliegg that something had punctured a lung. She lived long enough to touch his face one more time, then die in his arms.

“Everything changed after they buried her,” Anakin's voice was a low monotone as he watched his youthful self sob. “I helped the police capture the men who ran her down. Filthy drunks, they were. They were sent to prison for life, and they died there. Good riddance for killing a woman!”

“And yet, they had children,” the Ghost said softly. “They had families. Those families were without their fathers. You're not the only one who lost people you love.”

“I guess...” Anakin frowned, then shook his head angrily. “No! They were nothing but rats! They had to be punished for hurting Mother!”

The Ghost put her orange hand on Anakin's shoulder. “At least you had Padme there to comfort you.”

He nodded, tears spilling down his pale cheeks. “Yes. She drove over the very next day to pay her respects. With Mother gone, she and Ben and my job were all I had.”

The scene changed again, to the happiest day of his life. He and Padme stood in the garden of her family's manor, accompanied only by a few friends, his mother's assistant – now their butler – Cedric, and the loyal blacksmith Rudyard Deton. Padme wore white antique Irish lace trimmed with pearls and looked radiant against the setting sun through the trees. He sported an old black velvet suit he borrowed from Benjamin and looked nervous.

“I promise you, Padme,” Anakin murmured, “that you will want for nothing. I will work to make everything for you. We'll have a wonderful home, a fine wardrobe, anything you desire. I want nothing but the best for you.”

She leaned over him. “Then you only have to give me your love. That's enough for me.”

The Ghost frowned. “Would that you had listened to her. You threw yourself into work barely two weeks after the wedding.”

“Yes, but I always made time for her.” He watched once again as time performed its terrible dance. Anakin and Padme took their own apartment in the city, near Yoda's counting house. At first, Anakin continued with the picnics and skating and drives that they had loved. They comforted Ben after his beloved Lady Satine died of cholera and watched Ahsoka grow into a young woman.

“I hated it when Snips left for another job in Canterbury.” Anakin frowned as he watched the girl, now a nearly-grown woman, walk out the door of Yoda's counting house with barely a look over her shoulder. “She was accused of stealing by another apprentice. They declared her innocent, but she felt that she no longer belonged there. I never saw her again until tonight.”

Less than a year after his wedding and Ahsoka's departure, he was called to a just-opened counting house a few streets from Yoda's. “I've been watching you, Scrooge,” Sheev Marley told him. He looked dignified, in his sober brown suit. The room hadn't changed much in 20 years. The furniture was the same cheap designs, and the shelves were still filled with dusty financial tombs. The air in the room was nearly freezing, even in early April. “You're a smart young man, smarter than most of those other young fools at Yoda's. You work just as hard as them, and yet, Yoda and Windu refuse to promote you to partner.”

Anakin bristled...and the elder Anakin frowned. “Thank you, sir. Mr. Yoda says I'm not ready yet for partner, but I agree with you. I've been passed over for partner twice now. They say they don't trust my dealings. They go against the ethics of the company, they say.”

“Poppycock.” Sheev waved him into a chair. “You're partner material, and have been for years. I knew Yoda was holding you back. Come work for me, boy. Yoda's too soft, and Windu is too rigid. I'll pay you what you're worth, and then some. You want money, don't you? I know you're married to that lovely Miss Amidala. If you work for me, you could afford to buy her a nice home away from the city noise, clothes, anything she wanted.”

“But I have friends at Yoda's. I've been there for almost a decade.” Anakin sighed. “Let me think it over.”

Sheev patted his hand. “You do that, boy. Come to me tomorrow with your answer.”

They flashed to the small but cozy apartment he and Padme shared in the city. It was nothing fancy, and certainly not what Padme was used to, but it was home. He remembered how radiant she looked, sitting by the window as he came in. There was a...glow to her, in that blue dress with the light silk wrap. She ran into his arms the moment he arrived.

“Anakin,” she exclaimed, “I have something wonderful to tell you. I went to the doctor's this morning. The queasy stomach I've had for the past few days? Well, it's something far more wonderful. You're going to be a father. We'll be having a child!”

“A child?” Anakin watched the whole range of emotions settle on his youthful face...but mostly shock. “We're going to have a child?”

“Yes!” Padme grinned. “It'll be wonderful. We'll turn that old spare parlor into a nursery, and my mother has said she'll be willing to watch it during the day, when I'm working with Father and you're at work. But most of all, it'll be something that we both created. It'll bring us together.”

“I...you mean...” He could barely find the words. “Do you know what it'll be?”

Padme shook her head. “Not yet. I think I'd rather have it be a surprise.” She gave him her gentle smile. “I'm personally hoping for a little boy, with golden hair and blue eyes like yours.”

His hand settled on her round stomach. He laughed as he felt the bump against his fingers. “With a kick like that? It's definitely a girl.”

It was then that he knew he had to take Marley's offer. He had to. He would not let this child lose a parent. The child would have everything, just like her mother. He would watch her laugh and grow in her mother's arms.

“I left Yoda's the very next day,” Anakin admitted as they reappeared in front of Yoda's. “We bought them out three months later. Yoda hadn't been doing well for years. Mace Windu didn't agree with the price we asked for. He had an...an accident after a quarrel with Marley.”

He jumped back...as a body went flying out a window. Anakin's young self, already showing signs of the indifference that would mark much of his adult life, watched from the shattered pane. “There.” Marley could be heard saying from the second floor. “Anakin, tell no one what you saw today. No one! If anyone gets word of this, we could be ruined!”

He winced as he heard his younger self swear he wouldn't tell. The Ghost turned on him, her light swirling around her like a violent cloud. “You let him get away with murder! For what? To sell off a business that had meant something to the community for fifty years?”

“It wasn't making money anymore!” Anakin pulled back as physicians loaded the body into a carriage and police officers rushed upstairs. “If I had told the police what I knew, I would have gone to jail, or been held there for days! It could have destroyed my reputation! What about my children?”

“Your reputation was already destroyed!” The Ghost pointed her light at an old but cozy home. The sign “Coruscant Street Orphanage” hung over the splintering porch. Children with horrified faces gathered around their matron, a tall, slender older woman, and watched as she tried to reason with Scrooge. His face, now more lined and careworn, was hard as granite. “Do you remember this? When you closed down this home for unfortunate children? Children who had no other place to go?”

“Of course, I do. I had to.” Scrooge made a face. “Lord Tarkin was offering a handsome sum to build his new offices there. I had to force them out. They weren't paying nearly enough for rent. She tried offering her own pitiful money as collateral, but it wasn't nearly enough.”

The Ghost drew her flame over the children...and Scrooge gasped, moving back as the light made them appear as miniature skeletons. “Every one of those children ended up in the street, Scrooge. Every one of them died. You could have made a difference to them. They could have found loving homes.” The blue eyes raged like a storm over the Atlantic Ocean. “But then again, you weren't good to your own children, either. Or their mother.”

He followed the flickering light back into his counting house. It was just a few weeks after he'd closed the orphanage. He sat behind his usual desk, going over his ledgers and counting his money...but he wasn't alone. Padme sat on the chair in front of his desk, her heavily swollen stomach evident under the pale green gown. She gazed at him under tear-streaked lashes.

“No, Padme!” He slammed the ledger. “I'm not giving you one cent for that charity of yours!”

“It's only a small thing, Anakin.” Padme rubbed her stomach. “Bail Organa is putting in most of the money, but all I need is the loan on the house for our headquarters.”

Her husband frowned. “Padme, you don't look well. Why don't you forget all this charity nonsense and go home? You have a little one in you. You should be resting.”

“Anakin, no!” She slammed the ledger shut, much like his daughter had earlier that night. “What's come over you? You're no longer the man I married. Ben and I have seen your noble ambitions fall off one by one, until there's nothing left but the pursuit of wealth.”

“Isn't that the way of the world?” Anakin only glared at her. “There's nothing it's so hard on than poverty.” He pointed his ruler at her. “I'm doing this for you, Padme. You and the children, when they come.”

“No, Anakin. I don't think you are.” She clutched her rounded belly. “You're doing this for gold, Anakin. For power. That's what you love. Tell me, if you were free, would you marry a woman whose charity is worth so little money?”

“Yes!” Anakin nearly shouted as his youthful form turned away from her, a deep frown etched on his face. “Yes, Padme! I love you, and I always will! You were the light of my life, my soul, and my happiness! I never wanted to lose you like this!”

“Then...I release you.” Padme handed him the birch wood pendent he'd carved for her over a decade before. “We'll live together, for the children's sake. But I no longer consider you to be the man I love.”

Ben Willkins chose that moment to enter, just as Anakin pocketed the carving. “Did you get the loan from that skinflint yet, Padme? I told you he wouldn't...”

“You!” Anakin nearly leaped off the chair. “You did this! This was your idea?” He pointed at his wife. “You were the one who turned her on me!”

“I did nothing of the kind.” Ben dropped his hands on his long apron. “You did it yourself, with all your trickery and deceit. I lost the best job I ever had because of you, Anakin. Barely got a loan on my book shop. And what about the orphanage?”

Padme turned to her husband with wide eyes. “What orphanage?”

“Tell her about the orphanage.” Ben stepped into his face. “Tell them how you cheated and stole those poor tykes' home. Tell them how you turned them out on the street!”

Padme gasped, clutching her stomach. “Anakin, how could you? Would you do that to your own children?”

“I had to!” Anakin glared at Ben. “That house was an eyesore, and Tarkin wanted the whole block for his offices. He had more money.”

Ben did not back down. “You could have found them another place. Maybe in the country. Not turned them out on the street!”

“Please!” Padme grabbed her husband's hand, breathing hard. “Anakin, Ben, stop this!”

“Padme, stay out of this!” Anakin gave her such a shove, she toppled to the ground with a scream. Both men were by her side at once. Ben reached under her to make her comfortable...and his hand came up bloody.

“Anakin,” he gasped, “send for the doctor. We need to get her home, or to the nearest hospital. I think she's in labor.”

The light wrapped around them again. When they emerged, they found themselves back in the apartment Anakin and Padme had once shared. A doughty midwife was leaned over Padme's end, holding a tiny baby. Ben clutched one of her hands, Anakin the other. Cedric plumped pillows, while Bail Organa brought the midwife her bag and Rudyard and Bail's wife Breha brought clean blankets and boiled water.

“It's...yes...I can see it now...” The midwife held up a tiny, squalling infant with pale, fuzzy golden hair. “It's a boy! You have a boy, Mr. and Mrs. Scrooge! And a handsome little thing he is, too!”

“Wait!” Padme gasped, “there's something...another one...”

Cedric's normally yellowish face had turned the same shade of green as the plants on the windowsil. “She's losing so much blood! I'm no doctor, but I don't think that's normal.”

“She's losing too much blood.” Bail Organa handed her another sheet. She wrapped the boy in it and handed it gently to him before returning to Padme. “Mrs. Scrooge, I know you're feeling poorly, but please try to push out the other! Come on there, you can do it!”

Within a few minutes, the midwife was handing another wailing child to Ben. If nothing else, she was crying even louder than her brother. “It's a girl! Noisy little lass, she is!”

Anakin's grin was faint. “We did it, Padme. We have a family.”

“Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Anakin...I'm not going to...make it. Care for the...babies...care for them...give them my love...”

Bail brought her the boy. “Here's your lad, Padme. He's lovely. I can see Anakin's features in him already.”

“Luke...” Her fingers touched the downy golden fuzz on his head. “Light...Luke means light...he's our light...”

“And this little lady.” Ben leaned over with the girl. “She's got some pipes on her. Maybe she intends to start a career at Covent Garden.”

Padme brushed her daughter's cheeks. “Leia. Meadow. Pretty as a flower...”

“Not as beautiful as you.” He wrapped his arms around his wife. “Padme, don't leave me. Don't leave us. I need you! We all do!”

“I have to...” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Anakin...I love...take care...the babies...”

Even as she spoke, her fingers fell from his hair to the blanket. She no longer breathed; her heart ceased to beat. Her body settled into bed, her pale face as serene in death as it was in life.

“She's gone.” The midwife put her hand on Anakin's shoulder. “I'm sorry, sir. She was a good'un.”

Bail held out Luke to him. “You still have your children.”

Anakin sobbed and took Luke, but he held him gingerly, like he'd break at his touch. He pushed Leia away when Ben tried to hand her to him. “If she hadn't...if she hadn't had them,” he blubbered, “she'd be alive...why did she have to die?”

“Her heart wasn't strong.” Bail handed Leia to the midwife to be cleaned. “I told her she shouldn't be having children, but she did it for you.”

“Why didn't she listen? Why did I let her?” Anakin left Luke screaming on his lap. “NOOOOO!” His wails almost matched his sons. “Why did I let this happen?”

“Why did I?” The elder Anakin's tears matched his younger form. “I lost her, Ghost! I lost the most beautiful woman who ever lived, the most gracious and kindest creature to ever exist on this planet!”

“And yet,” the Ghost reminded him gently, “you ignore or mistreat the living embodiment of her spirit, your children, Luke and Leia. You mostly let them be raised by the Organas in the winter and Cliegg's son Owen and his wife Bertha on their farm during the warmer months. They rarely saw any love from you, especially Leia.”

“Leia...she looks so much like her mother.” Anakin gazed at the young man weeping over his lost wife. “It was hard to see her grow up, to become the woman her mother might have been...”

The Ghost smiled a little. “Yes, Leia does have her looks. Her soul, however, is more like yours. She's ambitious, yes, and ruthless in her business dealings. It's Luke who has his mother and grandmother's kind and generous heart.”

“Spirit, please,” Anakin begged. “I can no longer bear these memories. Take me home.”

“Yes, Scrooge.” The light on the ghost seemed to flare brighter, and brighter. “But remember, you fashioned these memories yourself. That they are what they are, do not blame me.”

Scrooge suddenly had a great desire to see that light covered, to extinguish it from view. He grabbed a brass candle snuffer from the table near-by and threw it over her. The harder he pushed, brighter and wavier the light seemed to become...

Until his eyes flew open in his own bed. He was merely staring the ordinary candle on his own bedside table. “It was a nightmare,” he muttered. “I'm lucky I didn't start a fire, leaving the candle like that.” He grabbed the cap, snuffed it out, and turned over to try to get some sleep.