Work Text:
Fridays at Empire Electric Engines mean lunch from Coruscant’s best Corellian food truck, maple syrup donuts courtesy of Leia, and – the best part – the promise of two blissful days without requests to resolve bugs on the company’s website.
While the work isn’t exactly what Rey envisioned when she got her degree in computer science, Empire provides her with a decent salary, health insurance, and a sponsorship for her green card application. Her flatmate Rose likes to remind her that thanks to the company’s innovative engine designs, her job even contributes to the fight against climate change.
All in all, it’s not a bad deal. The only thing that can possibly spoil Rey’s perfect Friday afternoon is a snide, condescending message from employee KR1987, which arrives just as she returns to her desk with her third coffee of the day.
Rey groans and glances longingly at the donut in her desk drawer, snagged from the break room that morning and lovingly wrapped up in a paper towel for an afternoon snack. Internal emails for the IT department are usually split between herself and Kaydel, but her bubbly coworker has been out with the flu for the past two weeks, leaving Rey to cover updates and requests alone.
Unfortunately for the remaining half of the IT team, KR1987’s messages are notorious for their presumptuous, disparaging tone.
With a sigh, she turns her attention from her donut to her inbox and swears as she reads the email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Friday, April 24 at 14:36
Subject: Mistakes
There are two typos on the webpage with Jeremy Snoke’s biography. Make sure these are fixed as soon as possible.
Our clients hire us to complete work of the highest quality. This is the fourth time this month I’ve spotted errors on the company’s website. I expect more attention from the IT team regarding such matters in the future.
-KR1987
Irritation surges up behind her rib cage as she blinks and rereads the email. “What a bloody tosser!” she seethes, throwing her head back to glare at the ceiling. “I’ve had enough of these emails!” The fuzzy peanut cactus and the crimson bromellia on the shelf behind Rey’s desk are the only witnesses to her shriek of rage.
Well. Her office plants, and, of course, Ben Solo, who just so happens to lumber past her door at the very moment she throws a fit.
Physically speaking, Leia’s son is nearly her exact opposite – while Rey’s boss is slender, with stooped shoulders and a serene smile, Ben looks as if he’s swallowed a lime and towers over the vast majority of the company’s employees. Broad shoulders strain the seams of his pale blue dress shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, and Rey briefly entertains the impossible desire to transform herself into the yellow legal pad tucked under his elbow as she catches the crisp scent of his expensive cologne.
She musters up a sheepish grin and wiggles her fingers in a weak attempt to appear moderately normal. “Everything all right?” she croaks, feeling her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Damn her pale skin.
In response, Ben sends her a look that somehow manages to combine mild concern and scathing disapproval, dark hair perfectly ruffled and brushing the tips of his ears.
It’s just her luck that the hottest man at Empire is also a giant git, she thinks mournfully, as Ben saunters away without a single word in her direction.
*****
KR1987 is the bane of her existence, Rey decides as she grinds out a painfully professional reply while muttering under her breath about Empire's policy of anonymizing the senders of internal emails.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Friday, April 24 at 15:01
Subject: Not my job, but the typos have been corrected!
Dear colleague,
Thank you for your email! The IT team is always happy to receive feedback from other departments, whether positive or negative. Your input helps us to improve!
Our website has earned several Webby awards for user friendliness, so I’m delighted to read that you have lots of extra time to explore all the different sections.
While the content on Jeremy Snoke’s biography page is provided by his team, and therefore their responsibility, we’ve made the requested corrections.
With kind regards,
JKU180525
P.S. Don’t hesitate to include a friendly greeting in your next message – you’ll find that a little politeness goes a long way!
There. Was including the fact that the team had received numerous accolades from the web design industry too self-congratulatory?
Ehh. Women in STEM always deserved virtual pats on their shoulders. Rey quickly dismisses her misgivings and proofreads her email – the pinnacle of passive-aggressiveness, if she does say so herself – before jabbing the send button and scarfing down her donut. Who says you can’t kill people with kindness?
*****
“He drives me bonkers!” Rey wails dramatically as she pads into the kitchen of the apartment she shared with Rose in search of a drink. “I kid you not, I was ready to pull my hair out by the end of the day.”
“Are you even sure KR1987 is a man?” Rose glances up from the sketchpad perched on her knees, peering at Rey over the top of her glasses.
“Trust me,” Rey pauses her perusal of the fridge to glare at her smirking flatmate. “I know a mansplainer when I read one.”
She pulls out a half-empty bottle of Chardonnay and pours the remainder into a coffee mug, adds a generous helping of raspberry-flavored vodka, then settles into their well-worn couch with a sigh and a packet of pretzels. A jar of chunky peanut butter perches on the edge of the coffee table, next to a nearly empty plate of oatmeal raisin cookies and a nearly full bowl of celery stalks – her flatmate’s attempt to encourage nutritious snacking. The quantity of celery stalks remaining in the glass bowl provides abundant evidence of the plan’s resounding success.
Over Rose’s strident objections but with her reluctant assistance, Rey had managed to finagle the abandoned sofa up to the third floor by dragging it up six flights of stairs and removing the hinges of their front door. Two years later, she still feels an odd sense of pride whenever she sinks into the comfortable, cracked leather cushions.
“KR1987 and I had eight more email exchanges this afternoon on silly, insignificant topics, during which he managed to insult my intelligence, deem my professional background to be merely ‘tolerable,’ and criticize my work ethic.”
“Ouch.” Rose winces. “Definitely a man,” she agrees seriously.
“He’s not the one answering urgent phone calls from the deputy CEO to publish a press release at half past five in the morning.” Rey forcefully swipes her thumb across her phone screen. “Look. In his last email, he even wrote–”
“No work emails!”
“Just one?”
“It’s eight o’clock on a Friday night. We are not even going to think about work until Monday morning.”
“Don’t you want to join me in ragging on the messages from Mr. I’m-too-good-for-peasants?”
“Only because you know that I never miss an opportunity to bash the patriarchy.” Rey hides a grin as Rose adjusts her glasses and grabs her phone.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Friday, April 24 at 19:43
Subject: Even more errors
Cherished collaborator,
With your wide expertise in various coding languages – I believe you mentioned teaching yourself Python in your last email – you should be more than capable of fixing the broken link on the webpage dedicated to the company’s commitment to reducing its carbon footprint.
My very best wishes,
KR1987
P.S. May I ask why you’re still slaving away for Empire? You should be developing your skills elsewhere. Or even think about continuing your studies and returning to school for another degree.
P.P.S. You mentioned that you would like to hurl my “lifeless corpse” into a river in your last message. If I’m already dead – hypothetically, of course – then wouldn’t you agree that the use of “lifeless” is redundant?
“Babe. The guy is flirting with you!”
Rey chokes, a fountain of wine and pretzel crumbs erupting from her mouth. “Have you lost your bloody marbles?” she wheezes, coughing furiously.
“Charming.” Rose scrolls through the rest of the email thread as she absently thumps her friend on the back. “I mean, he’s fucking terrible at flirting and his compliments are, like, super backhanded, but the dude is trying!”
“He practically told me to shove off and work somewhere else!”
A gasp. “Emojis! There are emojis in response to you telling him that he sounds like a robot and should add more emotion to his emails.”
“If KR1987 were a robot, he would have added emojis as well,” Rey counters petulantly. “Even brainless chatbots can follow directions.”
“You were engaging with him.” Rose shrugs and pops a cookie in her mouth. “He probably thinks his flirting was a tremendous success.”
“Ugh.” Rey drags her hand across her face and flops her head against the back of the sofa. There’s a spiderweb in the corner above their bathroom door, she notes idly. From the looks of it, it’s been collecting dust for weeks. If she manages to persuade Rose that it would make a perfect Halloween decoration, maybe she can avoid climbing up on a chair to remove it. “How like a man.”
“Sorry babe.” Rose twists her mouth into a grimace. “How does this guy even have the time to read through the website in such detail?”
“I haven’t the faintest clue. Anonymized internal emails, remember?” Rey grumbles and slurps her wine. “In any case, he is pointing out stuff that should be fixed.”
“If only you could figure out his identity while you’re at it, then Ben Solo might have some serious competition.”
With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Rey snatches her phone back. “Ben doesn’t even like me. He just glares! I always have the impression that I’ve got mud smeared all over my face. Or that I’ve forgotten to apply deodorant.” She pinches her brows together and wrinkles her nose in an attempt to mimic Ben’s scowl, frowning at the philodendron by the window.
Her sour expression evaporates as a moment from that afternoon comes to mind. “To be fair, I did have chocolate stains on my chin today. Not entirely sure how that happened.”
“Maybe he wanted to lick that chocolate off your face,” Rose teases, waggling her eyebrows.
“If he could string together more than three words while in my presence, I would let him,” Rey admits with a dreamy sigh. “Have you seen that mouth of his?” Thoughts of his plush lips between her thighs have conquered her bouts of insomnia more than once, bringing her to a delicious peak with stifled gasps and an arched back before delivering her into a dreamless sleep.
“I haven’t seen this wonder mouth in person, but I’ve heard enough about Ben Solo’s physical features that I think I could recognize him in the street with one eye shut,” Rose comments drily. “It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, hasn’t it.”
“Two and a half years,” Rey groans into her empty mug. Overtime for Empire, freelance work for their local chapter of the Ackbar Aviary Alliance, and a deeply ingrained fear of abandonment tended to put the brakes on dating. “I could find so many uses for that mouth,” she murmurs mournfully.
A lightweight when it comes to alcohol, Rey attempts to sort out her hazy thoughts as a pleasant warmth spreads through her limbs. “Speaking of which,” she grins, drawing out the vowels in every word, “will a certain Finnegan Evans be at tomorrow’s climate fair?”
Up until a few months ago, Finn Evans had simply been one of several hundred indistinguishable engineers involved in the production of Empire’s electric vehicles and who reported to Jeremy Snoke. Though the meteoric rise of Empire in the electric car industry was partly due to Snoke’s ruthless but effective business practices, the rumors of greenwashing and corruption had been, until Finn’s abrupt resignation, mere whispers.
After his spectacularly dramatic departure, the whispers had turned into roars, the rumors into concrete accusations, and journalists had begun sniffing around. News of Finn’s shouting match with the widely despised head of the engineering division had spread rapidly throughout the company, spawning no fewer than seven memes – two created by Kaydel – and a doctored video clip that included lightning bolts emanating from Snoke’s fingertips.
To celebrate, Rey and Kaydel had promptly introduced themselves to Finn and invited him to their weekly taco dinner with Rose. Rey’s flatmate and the former engineer had instantly hit it off, connecting over their shared interest in carnivorous tropical plants.
Rose blushes and reaches for the television remote, flicking through the channels until she reaches the latest episode of The Galaxy’s Greatest Gingerbread Houses. “Nice try. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about your little crush on Ben,” she warns, gesticulating haphazardly with her pen. “There is something going on there.” She sniffs and turns her attention back to her sketching, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly. “And yes. Finn’ll meet us at the stand at noon.”
*****
At a quarter past noon, the Ackbar Aviary Alliance tent is overwhelmed with people. Rose is in her element; Rey slightly less so.
“Climate change kills birds! Emperor penguins are dying off!” Rose bellows, startling a man with twins at the next table. Despite her petite stature, her accusatory voice carries surprisingly far. “Their habitats are disappearing! Their eggs are hatching earlier! What are you doing to help save the willow warbler from extinction?” The man quickly turns around, scurrying away with his children in tow.
Taking advantage of the distraction caused by the arrival of a group of high schoolers at their stand, Rey grabs her phone and discreetly slips into the crowd, looking for a quiet place to take a break from the hustle of the event.
Between the two of them, Rose Tico is the climate action warrior. Passionate and stubborn, she thrives on activism and challenging established institutions – she hasn’t taken a flight or driven a car in nine years and has been arrested for protests against the state’s largest oil refinery. Twice. In the last six months.
Rose takes immense pleasure in public campaigning. As the Alliance’s most effective advocacy coordinator, Ackbar Aviary is always more than happy to let her represent the organization at climate marches and other events.
Rey’s freelance work for Ackbar, on the other hand, involves the maintenance of the website, a low-key, behind-the-scenes role that she vastly prefers. Minimal involvement is perfectly sufficient; becoming the figurehead of a large-scale social movement is far from the top of her to-do list.
Repairing, rebuilding, and rescuing have been the cornerstones of her personal and professional life, whether it’s fixing bugs and tinkering with finicky code, restoring a run-down leather sofa, or welding together the cracks in her own heart – and Rey has no intention of changing that.
Weaving her way through stands and stalls hawking everything from solar panels to cacti, she finally spies a tent selling fruit sorbets and oat milk ice cream. The length of the line speaks for the stand’s success, and Rey figures that queuing for ice cream and catching up on a few work emails is as good a way as any to spend her afternoon as she waits for Rose to wrap up.
She takes a deep breath and visualizes the scoop of strawberry-watermelon-mint sorbet she’ll reward herself with after responding to KR1987’s latest email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, April 25 at 12:19
Subject: Request successfully completed!
To my esteemed coworker,
Many thanks for your message! The broken link regarding Empire’s carbon emissions has been corrected and now points to the most recent version of the annual environmental report.
As I’m sure you’ll continue to scrutinize the other pages in this section, have you noticed the interactive counter keeping track of how many car batteries have been recycled and reused by Empire? It’s part of our pilot for more appealing data visualization – similar animations will be rolled out in the coming months.
With grudging gratefulness for your sharp eye,
JKU180525
P.S. Have you seen the tuition for advanced degree programs in the US? I rest my case.
P.P.S. Sometimes redundancies are necessary. If I’m going to lose my green card over your murder, I want to be 200% sure that you’re well and truly dead.
Rey sends her reply and shuffles along as the queue inches forward, marveling at the crowd drawn by the climate convention. The atmosphere is electric, an eclectic combination of rowdy county fair and scientific conference. Local businesses, intrepid start-ups, nature conservation organizations, and even a few Fortune500 companies are present, while students, families, and the occasional adult in a suit wander around.
Climate action, evidently, is now all the rage – the popularity of environmental issues has skyrocketed in recent years, and trends, of course, mean money. She makes a mental note to check out the table on electric scooters later on and cranes her neck to see how many people are between her and a sorbet.
Raised voices near the stand of the Coruscant Chronicle, the city’s local newspaper, draw her attention instead, and Rey swivels her head to rubberneck. Two men with their backs to the queue are having a heated discussion with a dark-skinned woman with a crown of tight braids standing behind the table, her arms crossed defiantly and an unimpressed look on her face.
Rey frowns. The shadow cast by the tent hides both of the men’s faces from her view, but one of them suddenly shakes his head – holy shit, that hair belongs in a shampoo commercial, Rey notes with surprise – while the other throws his hands up in evident exasperation. All that she manages to catch a glimpse of is the glint of a smartphone in one of Mr. Shampoo Commercial’s giant hands.
Well. No major gossip to report to Rose for the moment.
Another few feet, another couple of minutes, another dozen emails deleted. The buzz of her phone alerts her to a new message, and Rey’s eyebrows quirk upwards.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, April 25 at 12:26
Subject: Check data
Dear overachiever,
Why are you even checking emails on a Saturday morning?
I did indeed notice the animation – very clever. I imagine that it automatically retrieves the most recent figures from Empire’s database? You should verify the figures for 2018. Not just here, but across the website.
In addition, there is a typo on the webpage that covers fraud investigations. Please correct it at your earliest convenience.
Your dedication has my deepest admiration,
An impressed KR1987
P.S. You would obviously qualify for a scholarship. Cost shouldn’t be a barrier to one’s education.
P.P.S. Fair point. I suppose that the best murder plots should have built-in redundancies to account for possible failures. If I weren’t the victim in this hypothetical case, I would almost feel obligated to defend you in court.
Rey squints at the screen, trying to decipher the tone of KR1987’s latest email. Could Rose be right? Was he really trying – very poorly, mind you – to compliment her work? Perhaps he simply found it difficult to express himself in writing. His more recent messages have included hints of humor, and the aggravated, demanding tone of his initial emails has softened.
Employee KR1987 deserves the benefit of the doubt, she decides reluctantly. Rey swallows her pride, toggles to a new window to access the Empire data being retrieved by the website, and sets to work.
She does not wonder what KR1987 looks like.
Not at all.
*****
As little as Rey wants to admit it, KR1987 is correct. A quick search shows serious discrepancies in the pollution and emissions data points from 2018. She chews nervously on the inside of her mouth. It’s a brewing catastrophe for both Empire’s climate credentials and its public relations.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, April 25 at 12:39
Subject: WTF???????
Hello pot – kettle here,
How’s your weekend going? I see your fingers are also surgically attached to your work inbox.
More seriously, how the fuck did you know there was an issue with the 2018 data? The auditors should have checked all the numbers before validation in the database, but the internal figures show that Empire’s engines have caused twelve to fourteen times more pollution than the public data suggests. Is that possible?
This is a problem that goes way beyond my domain. I’ve removed the animations and added a footnote that the figures across the website are subject to review – that will buy a bit of time until we can investigate further on Monday.
On another note, thanks for the heads-up about the fraud page – I’ve fixed the typo and corrected another broken link.
With some distrust,
A very confused JKU180525
P.S. The way you talk about “my education” makes me almost afraid to ask how old you are…
P.P.S. Ding ding ding! You hit the nail on the head. I didn’t realize Empire had criminal defense lawyers on the payroll. When you’re not hypothetically defending downtrodden, innocent, underappreciated IT workers (or badgering them with requests), do you spend a lot of your time with accused murderers?
As Rey schedules a meeting with Leia and the internal auditors first thing Monday morning, her mind wanders to reasons for which KR1987 responded so quickly to her email. EIther he’s: A) a workaholic, B) nitpicky and determined to make her life hell on a weekend, C) bored, or D) lonely.
Or option E – all of the above. Rey chooses not to think about how many of those categories she herself fits into as she sends her message, resolving not to check her work email for the rest of the weekend.
Well. At least, until she gets her sorbet.
An electronic chime cuts through the argument at the newspaper’s stall, and Mr. Shampoo Commercial runs a giant hand through his perfectly tousled waves as he checks the notification on his phone.
He turns his back to the journalist behind the table and shifts his attention to the screen. His face emerges from the shadows, and Rey gasps.
“Ben?”
*****
Her ears buzz, her mouth gapes. Rey has the impression that the world has narrowed down to him and her. Her and him. Ben and Rey. Everything else fades away.
He blinks, surprised. A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, the hint of a crooked tooth appears. Sharp amber eyes roam hungrily over her face and peer into her very soul. Is this curious tingling sensation what an X-ray feels like?
Her tongue suddenly feels like it’s wrapped in cotton, and she coughs twice before managing to raise her hand in greeting.
Ben waves in response. He opens his mouth. And then–
“Rey Johnson!”
She takes a step back as someone throws an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a half-hug. Ben’s face shutters.
“Finn!” Rey immediately launches into an elaborate sequence of handshakes and fist bumps, ending with a wobbly pirouette that earns her a glare from the woman standing in front of her. “What are you guys doing here?” she asks, her eyes flicking over to Ben. “The Ackbar Aviary stand is that way,” she adds, giving Finn a pointed look. “Rose is very much looking forward to seeing you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Ben’s face relax at the mention of her flatmate. He looks almost… relieved.
“Well.” Finn scratches his chin, glancing between Rey and Ben and the disgruntled journalist. “This is just between us, all right?” He lowers his voice. “But that’s Ben’s cousin, Jannah. She’s preparing an article on Snoke. Major exposé. Greenwashing, lying to shareholders, bribery – think Volkswagen emissions scandal, but ten times bigger.”
“That’s bloody insane! Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” Finn clears his throat and glances at Ben. “We just need our contact in the Legal team to get us some hard evidence.”
“And I already told you, Legal has several contractual constraints to consider before they are permitted to release that kind of information,” Ben grumbles, running his hands through his hair. Rey swears she can feel her own chest reverberate with the sound of his deep voice. “Confidentiality clauses, non-disclosure agreements, privacy statements – rules to protect the company and its employees.”
“What if it’s the right thing to do?” Rey shoots back, resisting the urge to squirm under Ben’s piercing gaze. Concentrate, Johnson, she tells herself sternly. “If Empire’s cars really are causing more pollution than they should be, then fuck the company – what about protecting the environment? The future of humankind? The fate of the entire planet?”
For a moment, only the sounds of the climate convention surround them as Rey’s dramatic words sink in. She stares defiantly at Ben, waiting for him to retort.
“You sound like Rose,” Finn snorts with an affectionate chuckle, shattering the silent, silk-spun bond between Ben and Rey. He checks his watch, then yelps. “I’m late! Rose is gonna kill me. Solo, why don’t you hang out with my favorite technology whiz?” He gives an exaggerated wink and claps Ben on the back, sending him careening into Rey, who stumbles under the unexpected weight. “We’ll continue our discussion with Jannah later!” he shouts as he jogs towards the Ackbar stand.
Ben grunts as he regains his balance, mumbling an apology. Warm breath brushes along the shell of her ear while the sweet scent of sweat mixed with pine envelopes Rey.
For just a moment, she mourns the loss of the feeling of his solid body pressed against hers. Then she winces. “Bloody hell, Ben.” Rey rotates her shoulder and extends her left arm with a twist. “You’re more muscly than Pop-Eye after a can of spinach.”
“Sorry.” His cheeks turn as red as a firetruck, and Rey hastens to correct her error.
“That is an excellent thing,” she declares firmly. “So. Is ice cream part of the Pop-Eye diet?” she asks, tilting her head towards the queue and mentally crossing her fingers.
Dimples appear in his cheeks as he finally smiles. “If it isn’t,” he murmurs, voice as soft as velvet, “then I’ll make an exception.”
Rey nearly swoons.
*****
Two scoops of strawberry-watermelon-mint sorbet and one scoop of chocolate chip ice cream later – Ben insists on paying, Rey does not protest – the two of them wander towards the stand of a start-up producing electric scooters.
Conversation flows like a river through a forest – effortlessly and enjoyably. To her pleasant surprise, Rey discovers that Ben is also a fan of The Galaxy’s Greatest Gingerbread Houses.
“I used to watch it with my mother,” he admits bashfully, thoughtfully studying his ice cream cone.
Rey takes the opportunity to study his profile, tracing his prominent nose with her eyes, and resists the temptation to reach out and run her fingers along his angular jawline. Her fingers itch. She deserves a fucking gold medal for her restraint.
Not a single crumb escapes as Ben bites into the biscuit of the cone with a delicate crunch, chewing carefully. “Leia was always busy growing the company when I was a kid – I actually joined Empire in the hope that working together would bring us closer.”
“Did that help?”
Ben shakes his head. “Not at all,” he snorts. A thread of bitterness permeates his voice. “But every Wednesday evening, she would spend two hours on the couch with me. No paperwork, no phone calls, no distractions. Just me, and her, and the joys of culinary construction.” A slow, soft smile spreads across his face at the memories. “For some reason, our own gingerbread houses never turned out quite as nice as in the show. Mom didn’t have the patience.”
“I want– no, I need to see photos of mini-Ben decorating his gingerbread house!” Rey squeals, clapping her hands. Did young Ben have the same adorable ears that current Ben tried to hide under his hair? “I have a meeting with Leia on Monday regarding some discrepancies in the data on the website. I’ll ask her then.”
A chunk of her sorbet suddenly takes a dive, teetering dangerously along the rim of the cone. “Oh, bollocks.” She quickly swipes her tongue out to catch the runaway glob and slurps noisily, smacking her lips as she takes a giant bite out of her own cone.
Ben stares at her in fascination, eyes dark and pupils blown. “I’m not the most elegant ice cream eater,” Rey sighs resignedly. “But I’m not an animal in a zoo either. You don’t have to look at me like that.”
“No– I didn’t mean–,” Ben stutters and starts another sentence before pulling a napkin out of his pocket and handing it to Rey. “You should eat your sorbet however you wish,” he finally manages, each word pronounced with heavy solemnity. “It’s– I’m happy to see that you enjoyed the ice cream.”
She blushes, half from Ben’s words and half from his unusually warm tone. “I haven’t forgotten about those pictures,” she teases, grinning as his ears turn crimson beneath his hair.
“Remind me to call in sick next week.”
“Next week is gonna be amazing.” Rey licks the stickiness off her fingers as they join a crowd jostling around a lime green scooter. Ben frowns, gaze fixated on her sorbet-covered thumb.
“And not just because of those photos.” She lowers her voice, beckons with a crooked finger. Ben leans in, and she feels a shiver down her spine as the heat radiating from his body reaches hers. “Some guy at Empire has been emailing me requests to fix random stuff on the website. But after what Finn said about Jannah and Snoke and the journalist, I’m starting to think he’s the whistleblower in Legal.”
Ben draws in a sudden, short breath. “Why do you think that?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.
“Just a hunch,” Rey shrugs, absentmindedly wondering how the code for the app to reserve the electric scooters works. A redheaded woman is explaining how solar panels recharge the scooters when stationary, which seems to interest some of the suits standing behind their table. “The guy works in Legal; he’s pointed out inconsistencies in the data; and he’s definitely read over Snoke’s page more than a couple of times.”
“And so– what do you think he should do?”
“Sometimes it’s hard to let go of the past. We try our best to preserve familiarity; we build up rules and walls and ‘constraints’ to keep ourselves safe and comfortable.” She turns and looks up at Ben, her chin jutting out. ”But this is so much bigger than one person. This guy – whoever he is – has the power to make a difference.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t feel brave enough,” he whispers, the words nearly lost among the cacophony of the crowd.
“Then he should find his backbone and do the right thing.”
A pause, followed by a stiff nod. “Well. Shall we collect Finn?”
Without waiting for a response, he strides towards the nature conservation stands, cutting through the crowds like a scythe through wheat. Rey blinks at the abrupt end to the conversation, then rolls her eyes. “Oi! Hang on, Sasquatch!”
Ben stops. Sticks his hand out behind him, elbow straight and palm up.
Irrational delight sweeps through her body. Rey darts forward.
And takes his hand.
*****
By the time they return to Ackbar Aviary Alliance’s stall, Rose has managed to commandeer a megaphone and is bombarding unsuspecting passersby with facts about the California quail. Some linger by the Alliance’s table, genuinely intrigued, while others rush past, trying to avoid eye contact. The strategy seems to have about a fifty percent rate of success.
“Rey! Solo! Over here!” Bouncing on the tips of his toes, Finn waves them over as they approach the stand. “Isn’t she just incredible?” he sighs, casting a lovestruck look at Rey’s flatmate. “So passionate, so fiery. So committed to fighting for what she loves.”
Rey fakes a sneeze to cover her laughter, and she swears that she sees the corners of Ben’s mouth twitch with a concealed smile. “Finn. Have you asked her out yet?”
“I’m nothing but a lowly engineer,” he sighs in response. “Actually,” he corrects himself, “I’m just a lowly, unemployed engineer. Why would she ever want to be with me?”
“There is one brain cell between the two of you,” Rey moans. “You are so much more than your job, Finn, and Rose knows that. You’re fighting to make the world a better place. That’s why she’s into you!”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.”
*****
Twenty-seven minutes and several high-pitched shrieks later, Finn Evans and Rose Tico have a date at the Coruscant marina planned for the following Friday evening.
It takes no fewer than four reminders from Ben that they have to finish their conversation with Jannah at the Coruscant Chronicle in order to drag Finn away from the love of his life.
“Isn’t he just wonderful?” Rose sighs, staring dreamily at the men’s backs as they disappear among the hordes of visitors. “So dedicated to bringing justice to those who deserve it. Did you know Finn’s started a support group for engineers in the automotive industry who have experienced harassment and bullying?”
“I didn’t know that.” Rey smiles at her flatmate. “You two are perfect for each other.”
“Yes! I can’t wait for next Friday!” Rose packs up her bag as Ackbar staff members arrive for the evening shift of the climate convention. “Now we just need to get you and Ben to realize your feelings for each other,” she adds mischievously, and Rey nearly chokes.
“There’s nothing– You saw for yourself, he didn’t make a move.”
Rose raises her eyebrows, unconvinced. “Babe, I saw the man staring at you like you had the answer to every question in the universe inscribed on the back of your head. He also looked like he could bench-press me with one arm – and I love that for you,” she adds with an approving nod.
Rey snorts. “Are you ready to go home?”
“No, no, no. Honey, we are going to party,” Rose declares decisively.
She deftly snatches Rey’s phone from the back pocket of her jeans before Rey can protest and tucks it into the bottom of her handbag. “Today has been a success. We are not going to sit around the apartment on a Saturday night. You are not going to check your work emails. My sister is in town, and we are gonna celebrate!”
A glint of mania shines in her eyes. In another life, this woman would have made a formidable military commander, and Rey would have gladly followed her into the bloodiest of battles. “All right, General Tico – lead the way!”
*****
The clock balanced on the stack of books on Rey’s bedside table reads half past two in the afternoon by the time she manages to pull herself out of bed. She shuffles out of her room – steps unsure, eyes half-closed, head spinning – and follows the scent of coffee to their tiny kitchen.
Rey nearly trips over a pair of shoes and a rubber duck before finally collapsing underneath their kitchen table, one cheek plastered against the cool tile.
Huh. Paige’s socks have miniature green aliens printed on them. The creatures have floppy, pointed, oversized ears and are outfitted in the sand-colored robes of a medieval monk. They’re adorable.
“Rey! You’re awake.” Rose’s voice, irritatingly chipper, seems to float to Rey through a particularly dense fog. “Scrambled eggs? Hash browns? Pickled carrots? A little gazpacho?”
“Coffee,” she rasps, throat as rough as sandpaper.
“On the way!”
A few seconds later, a steaming mug of coffee appears on the floor next to Rey, who inhales half of its scalding contents before forcing herself to sit up at the table.
“Is she always like this?” Paige, seated opposite and sporting smudged mascara and tangled hair, looks about as alive as Rey feels.
Rey groans. “Every. Single. Time.”
Rose Tico, tiny though she may be, holds her alcohol impressively well.
But she also is the queen of whipping up a terrific post-hangover lunch spread.
And for that, Rey is eternally grateful.
*****
Sunday afternoon passes like molasses, slow and sweet. Rey spends most of her time in front of the television with Rose and Paige, flipping between a cycling race and a reality show on competitive gardening as they try to recall as much as possible of what happened the night before.
While trawling through blurry selfies on her phone, Paige discovers that she has a new entry in her contact list – Poe Dameron – as well as a string of incoherent text messages. Rose cackles as her sister reads out some of the more raunchy exchanges. Poe and Paige, evidently, had gotten along very well.
By the time the sun sets, Rey realizes that her own phone is still in Rose’s handbag, its battery as drained as its owner. Her flatmate graciously fetches both her phone and her charger, which Rey plugs into the wall after setting a late alarm for the next day.
Rose was right, she decides. Disconnecting from work and letting loose every once in a while feels wonderful. Accompanied by warm memories of Ben Solo smiling at her, she drifts off to sleep.
*****
Rose was definitely not right, Rey fumes the next morning as she sprints to catch her bus. Never again will she go drinking with her flatmate. A late spring storm has left her drenched from head to toe, and the door slams shut just as she rounds the corner.
When the next bus does arrive – ten minutes late, because it’s just that kind of morning – Rey leaps in, pushing her way through the mass of damp bodies. She and the other passengers are so tightly packed that a handhold on one of the dangling plastic rings is unnecessary – simply put, it’s impossible to move.
Commuters continue to squeeze into the bus as it approaches downtown Coruscant, and Rey breathes a sigh of relief as it finally reaches her stop. Elbows out, she batters her way to the exit and exhales as she hurries to the Empire offices.
Having grown up in the desert, Rey loves the rain – the heavy scent of wet leaves, the fresh air that follows a storm, and the earthy smell of damp soil.
Today, however, the rain does not have its usual soothing effect. Her anxiety doubles as she spots the crowd of reporters holding umbrellas and the bulky video cameras covered by cheerful yellow plastic tarps installed in front of the entrance to Empire.
What the fuck is happening? She hasn’t seen this many journalists clustered around the office since the company announced its takeover of Republic.
Rey pulls up her hood and dashes into the building via a side door, squelches across the lobby, and scurries up the stairs, mentally preparing excuses for her tardiness for Leia and the auditors.
On second thought, she thinks ruefully, considering the mud spattered across her soaked jeans, perhaps no explanation will be necessary.
*****
Miraculously, Rey makes it to the meeting room before Leia arrives. With a quick greeting to the auditors, she hangs her raincoat on the back of a chair and makes herself a coffee using the conference room’s elaborate espresso machine.
She grimaces as she sets up her laptop – the number of unread emails in her inbox is in the triple digits, and the first few subject lines have dramatic, all-caps titles.
URGENT. SCANDAL. RESIGNATION. BANKRUPTCY. Her eyes widen as she scrolls further down. FEDERAL INVESTIGATION. SNOKE ARRESTED – LINES TO TAKE FOR PRESS.
What the bloody hell was going on?
“Good morning everyone.” Leia sweeps into the room, gray hair pinned up in intricate braids, as calm and composed as the queen of Naboo at afternoon tea. Rey feels a tiny stab of envy at her admirable poise. “I’m sure all of you have seen the little kerfuffle downstairs. Our Head of Engineering has been fired and arrested, in that order, so we have lots to discuss. Shall we get started?”
*****
Crisis management turns out to be the main goal of the auditors’ meeting. Rey’s primary contribution consists of highlighting the discrepancies between the data points on the website and Empire’s internal databases. The auditors type furiously on their own laptops, expressions grim as they discuss heatedly among themselves.
Unflappable as always, Leia chimes in every once in a while to direct the conversation or offer input. But despite the gravity of the situation, Rey swears that she sees an extra twinkle in her boss’s eyes every time the woman looks at her, and her confusion increases with every knowing glance. Has she missed something?
Once the auditors are satisfied with Rey’s explanation of the inconsistencies, Leia dismisses her with a nod and a gentle smile.
Bewildered and slightly overwhelmed with the situation, Rey collects her laptop and her dripping raincoat, then heads downstairs to her office. Maybe she just needs more caffeine.
*****
Once she settles in at her desk, Rey peels off her shoes and socks, stuffing the toes of her shoes with scrap paper and stretching her socks over the radiator with the hope that they’d dry by the end of the day.
Wiggling her bare toes, she cracks her knuckles, takes another swig of lukewarm coffee, opens the oldest unread email in her inbox, and promptly sprays coffee all over her screen.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, April 25 at 17:09
Subject: Not related to work
Hi Rey,
My weekend so far has been okay. It got a lot better once I saw you.
I am not a good man, nor am I an exceptionally courageous one. But I’m willing to give it a try.
Jannah should have the information she needs. I hope this helps to save the planet.
Most sincerely,
Ben Solo
P.S. I’m 35.
P.P.S. I have to admit that I don’t spend a lot of time with accused murderers. But I would like to spend more time with a certain downtrodden, innocent (until proven guilty), underappreciated Empire IT employee. Umm. If she’s interested, that is?
“What the hell?” Using her sleeve, Rey furiously scrubs the coffee stains from her laptop as if rubbing the screen would alter the display. Her heart speeds up. “Is this a joke?”
She frowns, moves to the next message, and feels her jaw drop as she continues reading.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]
Date: Saturday, April 25 at 17:39
Subject: Files from Empire
Hi Jannah,
Thanks for the catch-up this afternoon. As discussed, attached here are all the files you will need for your article on Jeremy Snoke, including:
-public and internal emissions data for Empire’s vehicles
-recorded conversations regarding bribes
-details of bank accounts that hold embezzled funds
-reports on the improper recycling of materials
-falsified contracts with suppliers
-proof of illegal exploitation of natural resources
One of Empire’s best IT employees is in copy of this email, and can provide additional information if necessary.
I know you’re upset with me. I screwed up. But I’m trying to do the right thing now.
Best regards,
Ben
So Ben was Finn’s contact in Legal? Ben and KR1987 were the same person? And it was Ben who had been flirting with her – as KR1987 – but it was Ben – as himself – whom she had told to grow a backbone?
Her head spins. Her knee bounces. Her heart soars. Rey’s perception of the last few days undergoes a monumental shift as she silently clicks through to the next email in her inbox.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, April 25 at 23:57
Subject: sorry?
Dear Rey,
I was just re-reading my last email to you. Was it too pushy? I realize it was probably a bit presumptuous of me to ask you out on a date like that.
Apologies if I made you uncomfortable,
Ben
“Oh, no,” Rey whispers. The puzzle pieces start to slot together, connections between dots are drawn. She feels like fireworks have started to erupt beneath her skin – Ben wanted her?
The other messages in her inbox all relate to the impending collapse of the company – which, fair enough, is somewhat important, and it seems like she might be out of a job in the very near future – but they’re not what she’s looking for at the moment.
She scrolls frantically, looking for Ben’s name on any other emails, and nervously opens a message sent earlier that morning.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Monday, April 27 at 2:31
Subject: please ignore all my previous messages
Hi Rey,
I really hope you read this email first. Please delete my previous messages and accept my deepest apologies for not respecting your space. I shouldn’t have assumed that you were interested in me.
I totally understand that you may want to report me to HR for harassment. But I promise this will be the last message of a non-professional nature you receive from me.
I hope you’re able to forgive me.
Ben
Two AM and not a single typo in sight. Split between the desire to laugh hysterically or sob inconsolably, Rey scrolls quickly through the remainder of the emails in her inbox – it’s the last one from Ben. How could she have possibly missed all of the signs?
Her brain buzzes as she tries to marshal her scattered thoughts.
Ben was KR1987. Okay.
Ben, as KR1987, had been kinda-sorta-maybe flirting with her via email. Okay.
Ben – somehow – had figured out her identity. A bit more difficult to believe, but also okay.
Ben, as Ben, had spent the afternoon with her at the climate fair.
Rey had given Ben, reluctant Ben, a fiery mini-lecture.
Ben, brave Ben, had submitted all the necessary information to get Snoke arrested for illegal activities.
Ben, wonderful Ben, had asked her out.
And Rey, numpty Rey, hadn’t seen a single one of his emails.
Her brain screeches to a halt.
Ben. She has to go and see Ben.
*****
It’s only once she’s splashed up four flights of stairs and is halfway through the Legal Department does Rey realize that she’s still barefoot.
Ah well. Given the state of the company, she doubts anyone is going to write her up for non-respect of Empire’s dress code.
Ben’s office is tucked away in a lonely corner on the seventh floor, far from the cubicles of his colleagues. Senior Legal Advisor, reads the scuffed plaque next to his door, followed by a newer line of text spelling out his first and last name.
Rey inhales, exhales through her nose, then bangs on the door.
“Ben! It’s Rey. Can we talk?”
There’s silence, and Rey bites her lip. “Ben? I promise I’m not mad. I just want to talk.”
Another few moments of agonizing silence. Finally, the handle clicks and the door swings open to reveal an exhausted, haggard Ben.
He looks at Rey, long and hard, red-rimmed amber eyes searching her face. Then gestures for her to come inside.
*****
“Would you like to sit?” Ben asks, hastily clearing one of the armchairs. Rey shakes her head, her eyes wandering around the office, toes digging into the plush, cobalt-colored carpet. The thin, scratchy polyester fabric covering her own office floor is leagues away from the rich material decorating the executive suites.
Multi-colored manila folders are neatly stacked on top of the minimalist glass and steel desk, while bookshelves stuffed with volumes of legal texts and filing cabinets fill the rest of the space. A single abstract painting featuring blue and yellow and red lines on a white canvas hangs on the wall next to the door. From his desk, Ben has a spectacular view overlooking downtown Coruscant.
She wonders, just for a second, how it would feel to be sandwiched between the cool glass of the desk and the warm, heavy weight of Ben’s body, the edge of the table digging into her back.
Maybe later, Rey promises herself, feeling her cheeks heat up. Enough sightseeing for now.
“Ben,” she begins. He glances up at the sound of his name in her mouth, half-longing, half-fearful. His sorrowful eyes remind her of an elderly dog at the shelter, not sure as to whether he’ll be adopted or if the puppies will be prioritized again.
Spit it out, Rey, she screams at her brain.
“Ben, listen. Rose confiscated my phone after the climate convention and hid it away in her bag, and then Rose and Paige and I went out and bar-hopped and met some crazy guys who were, like, amazing dancers, and so we had the busiest Saturday night in, like, six months, but the problem is, we were totally out of it until Sunday afternoon.”
“Then I slept literally the rest of the weekend, didn’t charge my phone, missed my bus this morning, got soaked on the way to work, was nearly late to my meeting with Leia, learned that Snoke has gotten fired and arrested, literally just caught up on all of your emails, and yes! Of course I would like to go out with you!”
She takes a deep breath, chest heaving and hoping that Ben was able to get some sense out of the runaway motor her mouth has become.
A pause. Ben digests her words with a frown. “Did you just figure it out? KR1987?”
“Yes! Literally three and a half minutes ago!”
“How could you not know it was me?”
“Leia’s the Director of Finance! I thought you worked in the same department!” Rey flaps her arms, ignoring the fact that she must resemble a deranged turkey. “We talked at the climate fair! About the ‘whistleblower in Legal,’ and you didn’t say a word!”
“I was under the impression that we were talking about ourselves in the third person to maintain the greatest possible degree of objectivity.”
Rey rolls her eyes. “Obviously, that only worked for one of us.”
“Obviously.”
“How did you know JKU180525 was me?”
“Rey. Empire’s IT team is made up of exactly two women. And Kaydel’s been sick for weeks.” He swallows heavily, the sound clearly audible in the small office. “Of course I knew it was you.”
A beat. Then, “You always glared,” Rey whispers, staring at the painting visible over Ben’s left shoulder. “I thought you hated me.”
“I could never hate you.” He takes a step forward. His hands tremble where they rest by his thighs; his thumb touches the pad of each finger – index, middle, ring, pinky, repeat – as he hovers in front of Rey, unsure as to whether he has the right to close those final centimeters. “I’m a disaster when trying– when trying to talk to women I like. I thought– I thought if I could write out my thoughts, things might go smoother.”
He laughs, self-deprecating. “Then you scolded me for my poor email etiquette – which I thoroughly deserved – so we see how well that plan turned out.”
“Your first messages were pretty rude,” Rey grins cheekily. “But you did take my advice. And the emails improved.” She steps closer. “In your last message, however, you forgot to include a closing phrase above your signature.”
There’s a hitch in his breath as Rey lightly runs her fingers across his firm chest, fiddling with his tie. Navy blue. Lovely color. It matches her own shirt, funnily enough. “Did I?” His voice has dropped about an octave.
“Mhmm,” Rey hums. “You ended your email with just ‘Ben.’ Unacceptable.” Her fingers creep up and over his shoulders, his palms settle at her waist. The weight of his hands and the heat of his torso contrast sharply with the dampness of her blouse, sending exquisite shivers up and down her spine.
Ben tugs her closer, aligns his hips with hers. His eyes have darkened to glittering obsidian. “I’ll have to fix that next time.”
Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, and she leans forward to whisper against his throat. “You could, perhaps, rectify that in a more immediate manner.”
One of his hands slides up her back to rest between her shoulder blades. “Whatever can I do to redeem myself?”
“What about,” she presses her lips against his pounding pulse point, “a little kiss?” Her voice turns up at the end of her sentence, suddenly unsure of herself. He freezes. Oh, bollocks. Has she gone too far?
Half a second later, any doubts are swept away like a tower of matchsticks in a hurricane. Ben swoops in and smashes his lips against hers, molding Rey’s body to his own until there isn’t a millimeter of space between the two of them.
He kisses desperately, forcefully, vigorously, mouthing around her lips as a drowning man gasps for air.
Bliss – pure bliss – sweeps through her body as she feels the tip of Ben’s tongue venture into her mouth. She matches his urgency, eyes fluttering shut and whimpering as their tongues tangle together.
“Fuck, Rey, how I’ve dreamt of this,” he moans, words muffled as he presses warm, sloppy kisses along the column of her throat. With a grunt, he bends and lifts, Rey instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist.
One hand shifts to support the back of her head while the other curves around her waist. Then he takes two giant strides towards the bookcase and crushes her against the shelves as he renews his eager assault against her lips.
Like a slow-bubbling volcano, tension mounts in her belly as Rey arches her back and tugs at his hair to drag him closer. She thrusts her hips in a desperate attempt to generate friction where she needs it most, and is rewarded by a broken groan from Ben as he breaks their kiss to stare at her, eyes dark and wild.
“Ben,” she breathes. Her voice wavers. “Please, Ben, I need you.”
She wiggles her hips again, and Ben releases a short puff of air, leaning his forehead against hers.
“Rey.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, tries again. “Rey, I’ve done everything all backwards. This, though, I want to do this right.” He pulls back an inch to look her in the eye. “I want to take you out to dinner. Then I want you to come home with me, and we’ll continue this in a bed – in my bed.” With a cough, he looks away and adds hurriedly, “If you want.”
Rey’s breathing evens out as she slowly slides down the bookcase, steadied by Ben’s warm hands on either side of her waist. She feels a shelf dig into her shoulder blades as she reaches out to cup his cheek with a smile. “I do,” she blushes. “I’ve had enough messages from KR1987. I want to talk to you.”
“It’s a date.”
*****
The following week, every Empire staff member receives an email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]
Date: Monday, May 4 at 11:58
Subject: Some company news
Dear all,
We hope you all are doing well. Last week’s turbulent events have come as a shock to many of Empire’s staff members, and the company’s remaining managers would like to clarify a few issues.
-Jeremy Snoke no longer works for Empire. Federal authorities are conducting a thorough investigation.
-Jannah Calrissian from the Coruscant Chronicle has published an excellent article detailing the accusations, which you can read here: End of an Empire: Greenwashing, gold, and greed.
-You may be asked to provide information in order to help the investigation. The authorities have obtained the necessary warrants to do so, so please go ahead and share information when requested – we want to maximize our cooperation.
-As a company, Empire will be dismantled. However, a small, legally-independent entity run by myself and Amilyn Holdo will begin recruiting in the next few months. Stay tuned for more information on Resistance Renewables, as well as employment opportunities.
We truly value our employees, and thank you profusely for your many years of loyal work.
My very best wishes for your future endeavors.
Sincerely,
Leia Organa
Kaydel, the reigning champion of gossip, is flabbergasted. And, to be perfectly honest, more than slightly disappointed to have missed out on all the drama. But pictures of a young Ben, covered in powdered sugar and immeasurably proud of his lopsided gingerbread cottage, go a long way towards appeasing her.
*****
Three years later
Rey always looks forward to Fridays at Resistance Renewables. The end of the week means lunch with her favorite people, homemade pastries courtesy of Finn, and – the best part – two blissful days without work.
That last part is actually true now. She and Ben have instituted a policy amongst themselves that forbids work on the weekends, allowing them to maintain a healthier work-life balance.
Resistance has grown from a scrappy sub-entity of Empire to a leading designer of solar panels. With an industrious team of external and internal watchdogs – as well as Rose’s careful supervision – the company truly is making a difference in the fight against climate change.
All in all, it’s not a bad deal. The only thing that can possibly improve Rey’s perfect Friday afternoon is an email from her favorite Senior Legal Advisor.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Friday, July 15 at 12:17
Subject: Lunch with my wonderful wife
Hi sweetheart,
Leia and I will pick you up in a few minutes. Rose has recommended a new café that sells vegan burgers – do you want to give that a try? Their sweet potato fries are ranked among the best in the city.
Yours,
Ben
P.S. I saved an extra donut – with lemon custard filling – just for you.
It’s not a bad deal at all.