A Star Wars Christmas Carol, Part 4

His room was cold. It had never been so cold. He thought he left a window open. When he awoke to shut it, he was met with a dark phantom that leaned over him in his chair. All he could see was a black cape, a bit of golden lining, and one long, bony gray hand that tugged at his shoulder.

Scrooge was so terrified, he could barely speak. “Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?”

The Ghost merely nodded and pointed toward his room. “You're going to show me the shadows of things that may be.”

From what little Scrooge could see in the darkness, his future rooms were bare of even what little ornamentation he owned. Everything had been stripped clean, right to the rugs on the floor. He followed the specter as it glided into his bedroom.

Scrooge hung back as the bony hand pointed towards the lump under his cheap old sheets. “Where are all my things, my blankets and bed curtains? Who...who is under that sheet?” He pulled back. “I'd look, Spirit, but I'm...I'm afraid. I'm not sure I want to know what's there.” He drew back to the window. “Can't we go out into the world and see my future, like the other ghosts? I must know if Tiny Tim will live, and if my grandson will prosper in his new career.”

The robe gestured. Scrooge shuddered as it ran the musty black fabric over his arm. “Touch your robe? That seems to be the way you Spirits operate. At least you don't fly. I'm not sure I could do that again after the first one.”

The moment he touched his robe, once again, his room, the sheet, and the figure under it all vanished.

When they emerged, they found themselves just outside the First Order Savings and Loan, standing on the streets in the bitter cold. Three men, one of them quite young, wearing a sober gray coat and suit, chatted amongst themselves. When Scrooge joined their circle, he was surprised to discover that the taller youth was Ben's friend Armitage Hux, who carried a box under one arm.

“I don't know much more about it,” Hux said with his clipped accent, “I only know that he's dead.”

A smaller young man with shiny black hair and a twitchy nose sniffed. “When did he die?”

Hux shrugged. “Just last week.”

“Why? What was the matter with him?” The third man, who was much older, wore a far more lavish red and black cloak and had short gold hair combed under his top hat. “I thought he'd never die.”

“Who knows?” said Hux with a yawn.

The smaller youth's nose twitched again, making him look rather like a mouse. “What has he done with his money?”

“Probably left it to his company.” Hux made a face. “He hasn't left it to me, I know that much.”

This was received with a hearty laugh. “It's likely to be a very cheap funeral,” said the older man. “By my word, I don't know a soul who'll go to it.”

“I may go, if a lunch is provided,” said the black-haired mouse, “but I must be fed if I do.”

“Perhaps I'll go.” Hux shifted the box under his arm. “His grandson is something of a friend of mine, and my father used to do business with him, years ago. At any rate, I'll see you gentlemen around. I need to talk to Kylo Ren.”

The mousy youth shuddered. “I don't envy you that. Even I think he's ruthless!”

“Oh, I can handle him, Mitaka.” Hux started up the steps. “I'll see you later.”

Scrooge frowned and turned to the Ghost. “I know those gentlemen. The elder is Moden Canady, and the little one is Dopheld Mititaka. They both work for the First Order Savings and Loan.” He looked around. “And where am I? I'm always here at this hour, doing business with the First Order people.”

The Ghost merely pointed in the First Order bank. He followed Hux into the cold and cheerless granite main office. The chairs and desks were made of stiff, dark polished wood, the fixtures of cheap brass. A brass nameplate that stated “K. Ren” gleamed on the largest desk.

“What are we doing here?” Scrooge demanded. “Who is this 'K. Ren?' He means nothing to me.”

To Anakin's surprise, Ben Solo settled down behind the desk. He was dressed in all black, from black wool jacket to the tips of his shiny boots. His right brow was now bisected by a long scar, and his brown eyes were icy.

Hux and Phasma, in her stiff silvery gray suit, came up to him, followed by a dark-haired woman in a wool suit the color of the sky on a sleety day. The trio carried boxes filled to the brim with fabrics and knick-knacks. “Did you get them?” Ben asked in a voice that was low and menacing.

“Of course, we did.” Hux dropped his box on Ben's desk. “There wasn't much left after the Andors and the locals raided his rooms.”

The taller blonde woman pulled out a few things. “Here's his silver spoons,” she started in an oddly deep voice for a lass. “A pair of silver tongs, gold cufflinks, and a few shirts with fine pearl buttons.”

Ren rang up her purchases. “Good work, Phasma. I think we could get quite a bit of money for those buttons, and the cufflinks. What about you, Hux?”

“Didn't find as much, but I brought a few things.” Hux pulled sheets and blankets out of his box. “I got most of his linens. Very fine damask.”

His grandson ran his fingers over the blankets. “If I know him, this is very cheap damask. I could always give them to those useless cousins of mine.”

The other woman pushed forward, tossing her box on top of Hux's. “I got his bed curtains!”

“Umaro, you don't mean you took them down, rings and all?” Ren's long fingers tugged at the brass circles on the ends, then ran over a family cotton dressing gown. It looked a little too much like the one Scrooge himself wore. “You actually stole his night clothes?”

“Why not?” Umaro sniffed. “They would have buried him in them. If linen isn't good enough for that job, I don't know what is. I wouldn't want to waste fine clothes on the likes of him!”

Hux frowned. “He didn't die of anything catching, did he, Ren?”

“Do you think I would have stuck around if he had?” The black-haired girl wrinkled her nose. “I know how you admired him and Snoke, but frankly, they were both bastards.”

Ren kept scratching at his ledger. “I always give too much to the ladies.” He handed bills to the trio. “There's your money, to the penny. You'll get no more, and I can lay you that.”

Phasma put out a deep bark of a laugh. “The old skinflint was a right useful chap. He frightened everyone away when he was alive, only to profit us when he was dead!”

The laughter ended as Rey, Luke's daughter, hurried in. She was a few years older now, perhaps a bit more careworn. She tugged a knitted shawl around her thin shoulders. “Ben!” The girl called out. “I have to talk to you...”

Ben wrinkled his nose. “My name is Kylo Ren. I'm not Ben Solo anymore. Why are you here? I thought you'd be out celebrating with the rest of them.”

“I can't believe you'd do this!” Rey's glare was almost as menacing as her Aunt Leia's. “How could you buy the Scrooge and Marley counting house out from under my father? What happened to family?”

Ben just went on writing as the others smirked. “It was losing money. Uncle Luke's good with number, but he's not ruthless enough for the job.”

She grabbed the pen out of his hand. “I don't care what the rest of these filthy pickpockets say. Your name is Ben Solo, and you're a right ass! You sold my father's life work and put such a high rent on your mother's headquarters, you drove her out of business!”

Hux crossed his arms. “What do you want, Miss Scrooge?”

She put her hands on Ben's desk. “For you to come home to your mother. She's worried sick about you, especially since your father and my brother died.”

“I'll visit her when I can.” He pulled the boxes away. “If this is about Grandfather...”

“No, it isn't.” Rey pushed the rest of the boxes aside, her hazel eyes blazing with fury. “I don't know why I bothered with you. Or any of you. You only care about yourselves.”

“You know, Rey,” Hux started, “you ought to try to get a job here. We could use a smart chit like you. You have brains, girl.”

His grandson nodded. “I could teach you the ways of our institution.”

She slapped his hand away. “I'd rather be taught by a cartoon puffin than the likes of you!”

Phasma's bark rang out once more. “Maybe we could find you a puffin somewhere, lass. You might learn to curb that temper of yours.”

“Stuff it in your ear.” She glared at Ben. “I don't know why I bothered. You're nothing but a monster. I hope you're happy with the life you've chosen...Kylo Ren.”

Scrooge frowned, waving his hands at his grandson. “She's your cousin! Why don't you go out and talk to her? And why on earth did you kill your father?” The Phantom tugged at his robe, but Scrooge pulled away. “Ben, why would you push her away? Why did you push your parents away? They love you!” He finally turned to the Ghost. “Oh Spirit, let me see some tenderness connected with a death, or that terrible scene will haunt me forever!”

The Ghost finally pulled Scrooge along, out the door with Rey. A touch of the Ghost's robe, and they found themselves in Lando's Tavern, right next to the ancient, scarred bar with the rows of porcelain mugs hanging over it. Leia sat on a soft chair by the fire in the main room. She too was older, her hair showing far more gray under the blue velvet bonnet. “I'm sorry about Han, Leia.” Lando's hand was on her shoulder. “You can work out of here until you get back on your feet. I've got that room in the back we never use.”

“His own son killed him!” Finn's voice snapped from the kitchen. “Han wouldn't have died if Ben hadn't closed his business and put you out of your headquarters! His heart couldn't handle the shock. He's a murderer!”

Leia didn't seem to hear them. “Lando, how did I lose Ben? Han and I tried so hard with that boy. He's determined to follow in his grandfather's footsteps. Why didn't I ever tell him what Anakin was really like?”

“You did what you had to.” Lando gave her a small smile. “If it's any consolation, our mortgage got transferred to the Takodana Bank. Old Maz Fezziwig may be a pirate in disguise, but she's got the same good heart as her late husband Yoda. I should be able to reason with her. Besides, she eats here all the time. We can sleep with light hearts tonight!”

Poe looked up from wiping a table. “And we'll find another place, Leia. I swear we will. Maybe we could talk to Maz.” Leia didn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on the fire, and times that were happier and far-away.

“Don't give up!” Anakin hated to see his lovely daughter so lost. “Please, don't give up! Your work is too important to give up on. People need you. They need your kind heart. Your son needs you.” The Ghost finally pulled him away as Lando and

As soon as he took the Ghost's robe, they were whisked away to the Cratchits' home. This time, however, all was quiet. Mara sewed by the fire. Arashell and Oniho did a puzzle on the floor. Young Anakin read a passage from the Bible. Scrooge noticed a tear fall down Mara's cheek.

“Mother?” Anakin looked up from his reading, concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I'm fine.” She gave her son a weak smile. “It's this dim lamplight that hurts my eyes and makes them water.” Scrooge doubted it was the lamplight. He'd noticed the moment they entered that the familiar little stool and crutch in the corner near the fireplace were empty. Ahh, poor Temiri!

“Rey and Father are a bit late tonight,” Anakin noted as he put his book aside.

Arashell nodded. “Papa's been a lot slower these past few weeks, since...” She gulped, trying to hold back her own tears.

Her brother nodded. “I've known him to walk very fast with Temiri on his shoulder.” All around the room, the rest of his family agreed. Luke had twice his normal speed when he went out with his dear, lost little son.

“But he was so light to carry,” Mara explained. “He was really no trouble at all. And here's your father and sister at the door!”

All of the children stood and hurried over to Luke and Rey when they came in. “Hello there, little ones.” Luke hugged them all, then put his arms around Mara. “My dear, before we went to talk to Leia, we went to the graveyard. It's right by the river. It would do you good to see how green the place is. Temi...”

Mara finished softly. “Temiri used to love looking at the ducks on the river.”

“He was just a little boy.” Luke couldn't help the sob that escaped from his lips. “My little boy...he was never any trouble! Oh Mara, I loved him so!”

Rey put her arms around her father's other side as she and Mara gave him a gentle hug. “I miss him too, Papa Luke. He loved everything and everyone.” She nudged his shoulder. “But don't you have some news to give Anakin?”

The despondent clerk nodded, dabbing at his eyes with a worn handkerchief. “That's right. I just came from talking to Aunt Leia. After Uncle Han's death, she says she could use a little more help at the charity, especially now that they're working out of the tavern. She offered Anakin his first job as her assistant.”

Rey gave her brother a hug. “You're going to be a man of business, Ani! Poe and Finn and I are more often distributing the boxes and fighting for reform at the workhouses. You'll be helping Aunt Leia with her paperwork and financial books.”

Anakin nodded. “It would be an honor. I'm good with sums, and I like Aunt Leia. She tells the best stories.”

“Imagine!” Arashell giggled. “Our Ani will be a man of business!”

Ohino grabbed Anakin's hand. “Does that mean you're going to leave us?”

Luke shooed his family to the table. “He may have to, but it's a part of life.” He took Oniho's hand as he sat down. “Everyone has to leave sooner or later.”

Arashell's little voice trembled. “Like Temiri did?”

She scrambled into the other side of Luke's lap with her brother. “Yes. But we will never forget our Temiri, how gentle and kind he was, and how brave, in the last days of his illness. His spirit will always be with us...and we will always be with each other, if only in our hearts. I'm very happy, my children, very happy!”

The two little ones leaned into him for hugs and kisses. Rey threw her arms around him and kisses his whiskery cheek. Anakin did the same to his mother, who laughed at his quick kiss on her soft cheek.

After they left them, they found themselves back at the street near his counting house. He briefly peeked in the window, but there was a different person sitting behind a desk in a room that looked not at all like his office. He wasn't on the street, discussing his usual affairs with other financiers, nor at his clients' homes. Most of his clients, from the most miserable hovel to the largest grocery, seemed grateful that they were no longer beholden to a man they described as a terrible creature.

“Spirit,” Scrooge whispered as they entered a through a rusty iron gate and into a misty graveyard, “I know we're coming close to the time of parting. I've been wondering what has become of my future self. I've seen my things, but not me.”

The Spirit's bony fingers indicted a small headstone on the edge of the graveyard. It was an old place, choked with vegetation and forgotten by time. Scrooge tripped over more than his share of roots as he made his way to the headstone that the Ghost pointed at.

“Before I go any closer,” Scrooge cried out, “may I ask you, are these the shadows of the things that will be? Or the shadows of things that may be only? A life can be made right. A man can change his own course, if he does it in time!”

The Ghost only continued to point at the gravestone. Scrooge finally dropped to his knees on the mossy ground before it. He broke away a few vines, to discover his own name – ANAKIN SCROOGE.

“Oh no!” He almost leaped away, as if he were stung. “Was I the man Ben and his friends profited off of? Was I the one whose death made everyone so happy?”

That was when the Ghost's hood seemed to fall away...to reveal old Snoke, his sunken face more like a death's head than the rich banker he was in life. “Of course, Scrooge. You're the richest man in the cemetary, didn't you know?”

“No!” He grabbed at the gold-lined robe. “Hear me out, Snoke! I'm not the man I was! I will live my life in the past, present, and the future! Why would all of you show me these visions if I was past all hope? Please tell me I can sponge away the writing on this stone!”

The Ghost only cackled in his face. “This is it, Scrooge. These are your choices. Like the Ghost of Christmas Past said, that they are what they are, do not blame me.”

“I'll change!” He snatched desperately at the Ghost's robe. “I'll change, I swear it! I'll change!” He finally yanked the cloak from the Ghost entirely...and to his surprise, discovered that he was holding his own gold-and-black bed curtains.