The little green man looked on the unmasked Vader with a sort of gleeful little smirk, like he knew something Vader did not.

Vader didn't like it one bit.

"You are the next spirit, I take it?"

Yoda laughed. "Hehe…Spirit, no. Alive I am still, in your galaxy. Projecting myself into your dreams, I am. Call me 'Spirit of the Present' for some reason, they do. Understand, I do not."

"Oh," was all Vader could muster. He was still recuperating from his last visitor, who had left him emotionally spent. He was melancholy, and almost…sad. And any sort of positive emotion--like the fact that Anakin within Vader missed the Angel--annoyed Vader. And the little green man annoyed him still, and so focused was he on his annoyance that he paid no attention to the fact that Yoda had just revealed critical information to him. The fact that the old Jedi Master was still alive and living meant he was able to teach the ways of the Force. Moreover, if he was able to that, he might be able to resurrect the Jedi Order…with disastrous results for the Empire. Vader, however, didn't notice. He only stared around the room in annoyance and sighed…"I thought I obliterated this place!"

Looking around him, Vader saw twelve chairs, with one smaller chair, on which his visitor sat, placed in the middle. There was a balcony overlooking a great city that looked as if it should make a great deal of noise. It made no noise, however. It was as hauntingly silent as one might have expected a graveyard to be, the only sound the noise of the small Jedi Master speaking. The planet was Coruscant, the place the Jedi Temple. Anakin within Vader relaxed at being home, while Vader himself shiited uncomfortably on his feet. He said nothing, waiting for the elder one to say something.

Jumping up to where he was standing in his less that tall seat, the stumpy little Master stood to his full height. Bear in mind that the creature's full height was far less than impressive, but when that was combined with his wicked, mischievious grin, full of tiny, sharp teeth, it was quite indimidating. Vader, at least, found it miserable to be in Yoda's presence.

"Have nothing to say, do you? A first, is this. Always did you have something to say."

Vader glared at his former teacher. "There is nothing to say."

Much to Vader's chargrin, the little man grinned again and picked up a stick that sat near his chair. His big eyes shone with mystery, and his mouth continued to stay curved upwards in a smile. "Nothing to say? Perhaps not. But much to see. Come, come." Yoda waved his former student on with the gimer stick, and, propelled by the Force, Vader followed.

It didn't take him long to realize that his room had vanished again, and had been replaced by sand…it seemed too much like the first dream.

They were not in Mos Espa, he noticed after a while. There was no busy marketplace, only a small suburb with a few shops dotting a street. A large refueling station stood at the end of the street, with a big sign marked in Huttese: Tosche.


"Anchorhead?" Vader said in confusion. "What are we doing here? There's nothing here but a few shops and moisture farmers…"

Then, all of a sudden, it hit him.

"Moisture farmers." He said aloud. "The Lars homestead."
""Hmmm…." Yoda said. "Nothing you will find there, this Christmas."

"Why not?" he said with a sharp turn of his head. Vader had given strict instructions to his troops to leave Anchorhead alone. He may have been a Dark Lord, but his mother was buried in Anchorhead. He refused to to belittle her memory.

"Your troops, they were, I think. Burnt it. Gone, it is."

The anger shone clearly in Vader's eyes. He was not concentrating on the fact that this all seemed so rediculous, only that his troops had disobeyed him, and that if he ever woke up from this blasted dream that a few hundred stormtroopers would die.

"Come, come," Yoda beckoned again. "Here for the homestead, we are not. To the station we go."

"To see what?" Vader snapped.

"Christmas of the present."


Vader complied begrudgingly, following the little green man as they walked slowly down the dusty streets in Anchorhead. The short walk brought memories rushing back to Vader; he had only been here once before, to his brother's moisture farm, and it had not been a pleasant experience.

[i]It was beginning to cool off, as the twin suns of Tatooine were setting. Anakin wept as he watched the flames licked up through the air, consuming what had been the only family he had ever known.

From behind him, a small figure approached and wrapped her slender arms around his waist. The gleaming ring on her hand showed that she had been claimed as his own, and Anakin returned her embrace fiercely and wept as Amidala held him.

The only ones attending the small service were Anakin, Obi-wan, Padme, and the Lars family, whom Anakin's mother had married into in his absence. Anakin's step brother, Owen, stared at the flames as well, also with tears in his eyes. It was the only time Anakin had ever been able to stand Owen Lars; the rest of the time they'd been arguing, never getting along. At their time of grief, however, they put aside their differences.

"Come home with us, Anakin," Owen said after the funeral was done. "Stay with us a little while. You are our brother, after all."

Anakin smiled at the invitation, and then looked over to his beloved. "I'll be going, brother. I have this one to tend to," he nodded to Padme. "And Obi-wan is expecting me back tomorrow. But thank you."

Owen nodded and the two shook hands. Anakin sighed and stared out into the sunset, and his mother's smoldering funeral pyre.

"I'm never coming back here again." he murmured.[/i]

Yes, this was the place where he had vowed never, ever to return to Tatooine. Yet now he found himself here, against his own will. He didn't understand what was happening, what had happened, or anything, really. He only knew he was somewere he didn't want to be, under the spell of someone who's company he didn't want. Yet, even now, he did not dare defy Master Yoda.

He wrinkled his nose when he reached the small station. As the first ghost had done, no doors or walls barred them from the inside; a wave of the Master's hand and they were inside.

Around a table sat a small, ragamuffin looking group of teenagers. The oldest, who seemed to be about twenty-one, worked on what looked like a ship engine, and two others sat silently looking on. A girl sat alone in a corner, crying silently, with a forlorn look on her face.

Vader stood confusedly for a few minutes. He didn't know these people, didn't know their names or anything about them. Why should they matter. He walked over to the girl.

"Why is she crying?"

"Lost two friends, she has."

Seeming to hear Yoda's words, the girl burst into tears anew and hugged the picture to her chest.

"Will you quit your blubbering!" The older boy yelled. "There isn't anything you can do about their leaving, so why worry about it?"

Her tears did not subside, they only quickened, and one of the other boys moved to hold her. His friend stood up, also wiping angry tears from his eyes.

"Leave her alone, Fixer! Just because you don't care Luke and Biggs are gone, doesn't mean you have to beat up on us because of it!"

Luke. The name sounded so familiar to Vader. He couldn't place anything on it, but he just knew it from somewhere.

"Who are the boys that they mentioned, Master?"

"Luke, hmmm...find out you will later. Biggs, a rebel. Killed him, your troops did."

Vader's brow furrowed as he watched the scene. As soon as it had appeared, though, it was gone, and replaced by a vision that caused him to gasp.

There, laying on a bunk in what seemed a small ship, lay Princess Leia Organa.