1Disclaimer: Jacob Marley is not mine and the basis for the spirits are not mine. Scrooge is not mine and the entire story of A Christmas Carol belongs to Mr. Charles Dickens, who does not happen to belong to me. Also, many of the views presented in this fic are not shared by me. It is not intended to be a spiritual fic., for you will find many conflicting views in here. I, personally, am a Christian, and thus believe that in real life, Jacob Marley would have gone either to heaven, hell, or purgatory and then heaven. However, this is not intended to be factual, but is based on A Christmas Carol, thus forcing Marley to be a ghost trapped in eternal punishment, neither in heaven or hell. Now that I have given you a theological summary of the plot, enjoy the next chapter. I will not repeat this disclaimer again, so remember it in future chapters.

MornieGalad

Chapter Two: The Past Revisited.

Jacob Marley sat, invisible, in Scrooge's counting house. This year, the place was decorated with Christmas wreaths and garlands. The fire glowed brighter than it ever had in the years before. Marley knew he must leave soon, he could not linger anywhere, but he could not resist seeing how his partner in life faired this Christmas. Ebenezer Scrooge walked in from the cold streets, a broad smile covering his face.

"Bob, those carolers sing the most beautiful songs," he laughed as Bob Cratchit followed him into the building. "Come in, gentlemen, don't stand out in the cold. Come in!" Marley sighed as he rose. Scrooge was obviously a changed man. He had made a change the Marley would have given anything to have the opportunity to make. The ghost placed an unseen hand on Scrooge's shoulder and left the counting house.

"Jacob!" called a voice. Before him, Marley beheld a child, a little girl.

"Come with me," she said, extending her hand. Marley took it and they ascended into the air. "I am the ghost of Christmas Past," the child told him. Marley decided it was better not to ask the spirit why she had come to him. These spirits usually came to the living, not ghosts.

"There has been no mistake, Jacob. Trust me. I have come for your sake." They landed in the snow and Marley saw himself as he was years ago, a child. He was at home, a young lad, barely five years old. There was a flicker of light in the corner: a meager fire that no one had bothered to tend to. The door opened, letting the frigid air in and the doctor out, for he had served his purpose and could do no more. Jacob's mother knelt beside the bed that had been moved near the fire. Her husband, Jacob's father was on the cot in the small room, white as the snow outside and stiff as if he had been a block of ice. His breath was shallow. Jacob the child and Jacob the Ghost watched as he moved slightly, taking his wife's hand in his own.

"Mommy?" the young Jacob questioned. "Will daddy be okay?" Jacob's mother didn't look at her son, her eyes too full of tears that to look into his innocent face would have pierced her heart. Marley the Ghost's eyes teared at the sight.

"Jacob, go outside and play," his father whispered, barely audible. The child obeyed, reluctantly. "Sarah," he whispered his wife's name. "You and Jacob will be left alone." She shook her head.

"We are never alone, Marcus. We have our savior." He nodded.

"I love you." Both of them smiled and Marcus Marley whispered. "Into thy hands, I commit my spirit. Merry Christmas, my love."

"Godspeed, Mr. Marcus Marley," she whispered and he was gone. Tears spilled onto her cheeks as she recited: "Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are by my side." The chill of winter entered through the door.

"Mother, there's a man outside," Jacob said. The coroner, Sarah thought. The doctor, bless his heart, must have sent him.

"Let him in, Jacob." The scene faded.

"You remember that Christmas well, don't you?" Christen asked.

"I try not to."

"Your father was a good man."

"He was full of faith, as was my mother, yet they received no good for their piety. My family fell into poverty after my father's death. My mother could only hold on so long in her job at the factory and when she died, so did my last shred of faith. I see now that was a fatal mistake. I lost my belief in God and turned into a miser. You need not show me more. I know, alas, too late, what my missteps were." Jacob Marley felt tears threatening his dry, decayed eyes. Christen, the ghost of Christmas Past, smiled and left him to whatever fate Nicholas and Phantom held in store for him.