A Star Wars Christmas Carol, Part 1

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.