FicWad

Summary: This is a Star Wars version of "A Christmas Carol," with Luke in Scrooge's place. Parts are a bit awkward, as I have mixed in present-day language with Dickens language, trying to follow fairly closely the original story (which means some characters are out of character). I thought about substituting "Christmas" with "Life Day" but decided against it. This was originally called "A Christmas Quarrel."
Rating: No language, not really any violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or "A Christmas Carol," but this story is mine.
Characters: Luke, Vader, Mara, Leia, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and others.


Saber One: Vader's Ghost:



Darth Vader was dead to begin with.

There was no doubt whatsoever about that.

His body had been burned by his son, and his death rejoiced all over most of the galaxy.

Old Vader was as dead as a doornail, or at least something very much resembling a doornail.

I don't mean to say that I know what is so dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of metal in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is the simile; and I shall not try to change it, for if I had attempted to the Galaxy would be done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat: Vader was as dead as a doornail.

Luke Skywalker knew he was dead! Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Vader was his father, and Luke had burned Vader's body in a funeral pyre. Luke was Vader's sole son, his sole remaining friend, and Vader's sole surviving witness that he had turned from the Dark to the Light-but to what result? To die before his next birthday, his dead body afterwards engulfed in flames, so his son could live to have another.

This brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Vader was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful will come of the story I am going to tell. If we were not perfectly convinced that Luke's parents were dead before we saw "The Empire Strikes Back" for the first time, then it wouldn't have been remarkable when Vader claimed to be his father-since we would have already been wondering whether Luke's father really did exist.

Luke never forgot how Vader had died, turning from the Dark to the Light so that Luke might continue to serve the Light, but the lesson was now lost on him. He had finally had enough of saving the galaxy, and one might now even venture to call him mad. Though he was still of sound mind, he had turned to a mixture of Light and Dark. If you asked a stranger where he thought Luke leaned, he would probably reply angrily that he was Dark. And well he should, as many were unhappy with the turn taken by what had once been one of the Republic's greatest rising heroes. If you put the same question to Luke's sister Leia Organa Solo, she would say that he was still Light, but even she would have to admit that it was more of a grayish white than a pure white. All Luke really cared about now was the Force and learning how to use it in all its forms.

Oh! But he was a sour man with all creatures now, a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching young man! Hard and sharp as durasteel, which no ordinary steel had ever been able to compete with. The Darkness within him froze his 36-year old features, making his eyes look older than the stars themselves. It nipped his nose, hardened his eyes, stiffened his gait, made his lips thinner, and spoke out shrewdly in a cold voice. A frosty rime had developed on his fair head, his eyebrows, and his chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his meditation room in the bantha-days, and he didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.

External heat and cold had little influence on Luke. No warmth could be warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to pleas. Foul weather didn't know where to have him now. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Luke never did. Not anymore.

No longer did people stop in the street to say to him, "Luke Skywalker! I never thought I would actually get to meet you!" and proceed to carry on a conversation and possibly even ask for proof of their encounter. No beggars implored him to give them a credit, no children asked him to show them a "magic" trick, no man, woman, or alien inquired which way it was to this or that place. Even the animals that helped the blind (those that were too poor to afford mechanical eye replacements) appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, they would tug their owners into different corridors or alleys, and then they would wag their multiple tails, as though they were saying, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye!"

But what did Luke care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what was preferred by Skywalker.

Once upon a time-of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve-Luke was busy in his meditation room on Ier'tthh, a small planet in the Outer Rim consisting of deciduous forests and several small cities. It was cold, bleak, biting weather, and foggy as well. He could hear humans and aliens in Laun'duhn's streets go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their chests, and stamping their feet to warm them. It was only three, but it was quite dark already: it had not been what a former resident of Tatooine would call even partially light all day, and lights were flaring in the windows of the city's buildings, like bright beacons for the lost. The fog came pouring in at every crack and was so dense that-although the street was one of the narrowest-the houses opposite were mere phantoms.

The door of Luke's meditation room was open that he might keep an eye on his apprentice, who-in a dismal room beyond-was glumly practicing levitation.

"Merry Christmas, brother!" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Skywalker's sister, who had come in so quickly that her voice and not the Force was the first clue Skywalker had of her approach. When Skywalker had first moved to Ier'tthh to get away from his Academy, she had insisted on moving as well, claiming she would keep up her duties just as efficiently as on Coruscant. Her husband had tried to talk reasonably with Luke, but they had argued and were no longer speaking to each other. Han could never refuse Leia anything, however, so he had bought a nice house a ways out from the grubby city that Luke had decided to call home.

"Christmas," said Skywalker disapprovingly. Quietly, he muttered, "Hah!"

"Christmas is not just something to laugh at, Luke!" said his sister sternly. "...You used to love Christmas!"

"Hmph," Luke muttered. "Merry /Christmas/! What right do you have to be merry? What reason do you have to be merry? You're weak and unknowledgeable of the ways of the Force!"

"Come on, Luke," returned Leia, who tried to be optimistic and remain happy despite her brother's increasing sourness. "What right do you have to be dismal? What reason do you have to be dismal? You're strong and knowledgeable of the ways of the Force...and yet you still remain unhappy."

Skywalker having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said, "Christmas!" again, following it with a soft "Hah!"

"Don't be cross, Luke," Leia told him.

"What else can I be-" returned Luke bitterly, "-when I live in such a galaxy of fools as this one is?...Merry Christmas! What is Christmas to you but a time to spend money on presents that shall soon be forgotten. Needless time spent shopping, when you could be learning more about the Force and how it affects us. If I could work my will," Skywalker said, indignantly, "-every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on their lips should be thrown out of an airlock with a stake of holly embedded in their heart!"

"Brother!" pleaded Leia.

"Sister!" returned Luke, sternly, "-you keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

"Keep it!?" Leia repeated. "But you don't keep it, Luke!"

"Then let me leave it alone!"

"Christmas is a good time, a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time when humans and aliens alike open their closed hearts freely, and to think of all as if they were really of the same species and not just another race of creatures bound on other journeys that have nothing to do with them. I believe Christmas has done me good, and will do me good, and I say, gods bless it!"

The apprentice in the next room involuntarily applauded, then with a sheepish expression pretended to continue meditating.

"Another sound out of you/," Luke barked, "-and you'll lose /your position. I don't have to keep you on as my student...." He turned to his sister. "You're quite a powerful speaker, Leia. It's no wonder you were the youngest ever elected to the Imperial Senate."

"Don't be angry, Luke. Please, come and eat with us tomorrow!"

"Why did you ever get married?" Luke's eyes sparked with burning hatred for Han Solo. It had not taken him long to forget the years of friendship he had once had with her husband.

Hurt by the look in his eyes, Leia said softly, "Because I fell in love."

"Because you fell in love!" Luke growled, as if that were the only thing more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. "Good day!"

"Regardless of what you think, Luke, I will keep my love for Christmas for all eternity. So, Merry Christmas, brother."

"Good day!" Luke reiterated.

"And a Happy New Year!"

"Good day!"

Leia left the room silently, offering a happy greeting to the apprentice, who returned it.

Organa Solo, in letting herself out, let two others in. One was a female native, and the other was a male human. They held datacards in their hands, and they both gave the equivalent of a smile to Luke.

"Jedi Master Skywalker," the human bowed. Luke merely grunted something incoherent and continued to experiment with the Force puzzle that he had concocted that very day. "At this festive season, Master Skywalker, it's desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many are in want of necessities and common comforts-"

"Aren't there orphanages and shelters?" Luke asked. He had no desire to waste his valuable time talking with these two about helping those who couldn't fully appreciate the Force.

"There are plenty of those, sir, but they are-"

Luke cut in sharply, "The shelters and orphanages this planet has can provide comforts and necessities easily. There's no reason you should be bothering /me /about it."

The native spoke, "A few of us are trying to raise a fund to buy the poor food, drink, clothing, proper housing....We choose Christmastime because it's a time when all should be generous and happy, as well as willing to help others who are not as fortunate as they. How many credits shall I put you down for?"

"None," Luke replied.

"Ah," the female smiled. "So you wish to be anonymous?"

"I wish to be left alone," Luke insisted. "I don't enjoy myself at Christmas, and there's no reason I should make idle creatures merry either. I help support the orphanages and shelters through taxes. Space knows they cost enough. Those who are badly off should go there."

"But not everyone can go there, and many would rather die!" the man exclaimed.

"If they would rather die, then so be it. The galaxy's full of enough lunatics as it is. I should know," he snorted, "my brother-in-law's the king of them all. Good afternoon!"

Seeing that it would useless to continue to try to pry money from the stingy Jedi, the two left, muttering about how the rumors of the great Skywalker's descent into something far less than great were true.

Luke Skywalker then proceeded to meditate, but he was soon interrupted by someone singing a jolly Christmas tune.

He stood up and strode over to the door, grabbing the hapless individual by the throat. "There will be no singing here," he demanded in a cold voice.

After being released from the choke-hold, the caroler fled in terror into the frigid, fog-filled night.

Eventually it was time to turn in, and Luke walked over to his apprentice and stated, "You want all day tomorrow off to spend with your family, I suppose."

"Yes, Master Skywalker."

"Well, then you'll have to be here early the next morning so we can catch up on your training!"

His student promised that he would be, and he walked out after grabbing his lightsaber and other belongings.

The Jedi ate his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy way, afterwards going straight to bed.

The room that he called his was gloomy and dismal, for he saw no point in decorating something that he would seldom be in while awake.

After he changed, he gave his familiar lightsaber a light pat.

Now, there was nothing unusual about his lightsaber. His was as lightsaberish as most lightsabers tend to be. He'd seen it almost every day since he'd built it, and keep in mind that Luke had little imagination left.

He rarely thought of his father anymore. After all, the man was dead, why should he do so?

But despite this, he saw, not his lightsaber there, but a miniature version of Vader's mask.

Vader's mask. It was just the way he remembered it, looking almost like a ferocious type of insect. It had a strange blue-black light about it, and he slowly withdrew his hand from it with wide eyes.

But as he stared at this phenomenon, it became a lightsaber again.

To say that he was not frightened would be untrue. But he touched the saber again, and it showed no signs of turning back into a helmet. So he merely shrugged it off to the stress of seeing his sister again.

But, unable to help himself, he did look around the room and whisper reluctantly, "Ben, is that you?"

When no reply came, he nodded, satisfied. Nevertheless, he walked slowly throughout the small house to make sure that all was as it should be.

There was no one under his small table, or his couch. No one under the bed, no one in the closet. No one anywhere.

After this observation, he decided to not go straight to bed after all, and instead he went in and sat down on the couch, a datacard about ancient Jedi traditions in his hand.

Something called his attention, and he gave a brief glance to his surroundings, spying a belled Christmas wreath hanging on the wall.

He muttered something about his sister and noted with great astonishment that the bells began to swing.

At first the bells made scarcely a sound, but soon they rang out loudly and ominously.

This may have last half a minute, or maybe even a whole minute. But to Luke, it seemed like an hour. Then the bells ceased as they had begun. Together.

They were succeeded by an echoing noise that sounded vaguely familiar to Skywalker.

The door slid up with a hiss, but Luke saw no figure in its frame.

"This a dream," he said softly to himself. "It's not real."

But the Jedi's face paled when a dark figure slowly glided into the room before his very eyes.

He'd seen his father as a ghost before. But that was as Anakin Skywalker, not bedecked in the horrendous armor that he was in now.

It was the same suit. The same terrifying mask, the same blinking red lights in the square on his chest, the same armor, the same boots...But there were chains wrapped about him.

Vader's body was even more transparent than the blue-tinged ghosts he'd seen before, and Luke, looking through his mid-section, could see the wall behind him.

During his youth he'd often heard it said that Vader had no heart, but he'd never believed it until now.

No, he didn't even believe it now. Vader did have a heart as Anakin Skywalker....But it wasn't Anakin Skywalker standing before him now.

"What do you want?" Luke stammered.

"Quite a bit, Son," -Vader's voice, no doubt about that. His breathing apparatus still echoed as ominously and rhythmically as ever.

"Why are you here? You're supposed to be dead."

"Every man is required to walk among his fellows and travel far and wide. And if that spirit doesn't go forth in life....Then it is condemned to do so after death. The spirit is then doomed to wander through the galaxy and witness what it can't share, but might've shared in life." Vader lowered his head.

"Why are you in chains?" Luke asked. He didn't like this one bit. For he had seen his father as a ghost before, but he had /not /been in the armor. Why was he now?

"I am wearing the chains that I forged in life," his father replied. "I made it link by link with every man, woman, and child I killed. I made it with my own free will. Do you not know of the weight and length of the strong chains that you bear yourself? Yours is becoming just as heavy and long as mine through your inaction."

"Father...." Luke was at loss with what to say. He /hadn't done as many horrible things as his father had, surely. Why would /he have to bear a chain after /his /death? He pleaded, "Can you not attempt to comfort me?"

"I have no comfort to give, my son," Vader answered. "Why did I not go out among the people to help? Why did I go astray?...But my time here is almost done. I came here tonight to warn you that you have hope of escaping my fate....But you shall be haunted by three spirits."

"That's my hope?" Luke was incredulous. "I've already seen more spirits in my thirty-six years than most Wookiees have in their entire lifetimes!"

"It is your /only /hope."

"Please, father! I've had enough of spirits! Why can't everyone just leave me be?"

Ignoring him, Vader continued, "Without their visits, you can't hope to avoid the path that I tread. Expect the first visit tomorrow, when the bells begin to ring at one."

"Can't I take them all at once and get it done with quicker?"

"Expect the second on the next night at the same time. The third will appear on the next night when the bells ring at 2400. Look to see me no more, and remember what I have told you."

After saying those words, the spirit stared at him once more, then dissolved into thin air.

After looking around, Luke shook his head to clear it. Blinking, he stumbled his way into his room and then into bed.

He was exhausted and fell asleep at once.