Chapter Text
There were so many terrific perks to working at Executor Alliance International. Some of the business trips had been phenomenal. And he really enjoyed the sharp team of people he worked with.
(All right, working with Madine and Ozzel was like deliberately stapling his own hand to the desk, but for the most part….)
The health benefits were fantastic if he was every given time to utilize them. But his boss was a sadist apparently (no really he was) and Piett was rarely able to take a true break.
Max Veers, who worked in Madine’s department, told him he should file a formal complaint to human resources.
Given that Wilhuff Tarkin took a keen interest in that department though, despite being the CFO, Piett didn’t think he’d get anywhere.
“You look like absolute hell,” Max said as Piett slid into the seat opposite him at their favorite pub near the office. It was inviting and quirky and actually run by an old Scottish guy who never put up with their English oddities and was quick to point out all their flaws. But it was some of the best beer in London and when he was in a good mood, he had fascinating stories about his military service in the Falklands.
“And thank you for that, Max,” Piett said with a sigh, setting his heavy satchel on the bench beside himself and shrugging out of his overcoat.
His friend slid over a brimming pint.
“This is why I hang out with you,” Piett told him, taking an appreciative pull.
“Because I buy you beer, and make you take a break once in a while?”
He snorted and got foam on his tie.
“Mostly, yes,” he replied, scrubbing at it.
“Did you hear that Lord Vader has stepped back into full time work here?”
Piett lifted interested eyebrows.
“Really? That’s interesting. I had thought we were going to be bought by Empire Law.”
“Rumor says that deal may not be as firm as we thought.”
Piett nodded, pondering that. If it was true, so much of the work he had been given by Ozzel would be defunct. And that would be great. Of course, most of the work Ozzel gave him was to see when he could get Piett to quit.
“Firmus.”
He looked up into Max’s grey eyes.
“You really need to take a break.”
Piett smiled at him. “I appreciate the concern, Veers, but the deadline I have seems virtually impossible already.”
Max glared angrily into his glass. “He gives you the work of three people! Seriously, Firmus, you will have a nervous breakdown if not a physical one!”
“I will not give him that satisfaction, Max,” Piett said steadily, checking his watch. He had to go if he was going to catch the Wembley line.
“Hey, I laud your spirit, Piett, I do, and you’re so stubborn you could give our British bulldog spirit a run for its money, but you’re essentially my only friend, so…”
Both of their phones chimed with a text.
Oh no.
Piett looked at it.
Back to the office. Meeting with Senior staff at 7 am.
Max groaned.
“No rest for the wicked. Or the weary in your case.”
Piett thought longingly of his flat and tea.
“Nothing for it, Max.” He rose and shrugged on his coat, lifting the satchel once more.
“Thank you Seamus!” he called as Max held the door for them.
“Lettin’ in tha cold air!” the Scot yelled back.
Piett shook his head and the two men left.
****
Piett woke up and tried to work out what was off. Something was not quite right but his exhausted brain couldn’t pinpoint it.
Then something whuffled on his chest.
Oh. That.
What , was on top of him?
In the dim light of his small office he realized that a large black head was resting on his chest and large brown canine eyes were looking at him.
A dog.
A large black dog was sitting by his old leather sofa, resting its sleek head on his chest and watching him.
Should he be concerned about this? Was he about to get teeth in his face?
A large red tongue shot out to lick his cheek happily.
At least not teeth.
Piett carefully moved his arm from his chest to hold it to the person washing service next to him and the dog paused its ministrations to sniff his hand delicately before licking that too.
Satisfied that he could get up without being attacked, Piett carefully moved to a sitting position and looked at his watch.
Marvelous. 6 am. At least he’d taken off his jacket and tie before he had lain down to read through the briefs he was preparing, so not everything he was wearing would be a crumpled mess.
His brain caught up with the dog in his office .
“Where did you come from?” he asked it, rising and feeling every muscle in his back stage a vehement protest.
It sat and watched him, panting occasionally as though smiling at him.
No one he knew had a dog like that. And certainly no one working here would dare to bring a pet to the firm.
“Really, how did you get in here?” He asked, gathering his papers and finding the thumb drive with the presentation he had been up most of the night, preparing.
The dog whuffed softly.
He was talking to a dog.
Maybe Max was onto something with him needing a break.
As if Ozzel would ever let that happen.
Piett had numerous daydreams about punching Ozzel in his pretentious face. The man was solidly upper middle class. No problem there---Piett knew lots of lovely people like that. But Ozzel was of the sort that liked to remind everyone about it.
“I was dining with the so and so’s last week….”
“Oh yes, at Cambridge we…..”
“Have you ever been on holiday to Mauritius? No? There’s a lovely private airstrip that….”
Piett had worked hard for everything in his life. His own degree had ‘Oxford’ on it, but he wasn’t about to bring that up.
He’d been passed over for a raise three times now and thus his salary just about allowed him to live near central London, provided he always took the Tube. His colleagues mostly took cabs and private hire cars, and couldn’t understand his desire to do so much walking and endless riding.
Max knew. Max came from an old family name himself, but no one thought about that because pretentious was not a word that ever applied to Max Veers.
“Why do you stay?” Max had asked once about 6 months previously when he had helped nurse Piett through an awful cold. Piett had stayed at his flat and literally hadn’t been able to stand without help for three days. Max had actually had a doctor come to him.
Overwork. Exhaustion. Stress.
Yes, he knew all that.
So, why did he stay?
Because Padme’ Amidala had been an old friend. Because she had asked him not to abandon her husband and family when she died, knowing the devastation they would deal with.
She couldn’t have known that Ozzel would deny him the promotion that had been expected which would have had him working more closely with Lord Vader and his children. She couldn’t have realized that her husband would have stepped back significantly, allowing Ozzel and Tarkin to steer things toward a merger with Palpatine.
She couldn’t have known her family would not want him…..
But Piett was loyal. Had been doing his best to stall and delay the merger, pointing out the ways that Palpatine was taking advantage of Lord Vader’s absence and making sure to scan all agreements closely for little things slipped in that would ruin this firm.
He wouldn’t let them.
But he was one man and Ozzel was out for his blood and Piett was so. tired.
He got the kettle going (it sat on his bookshelf) and found the tea in his desk drawer and wondered what on earth he could eat for breakfast. The office dining hall and buffet didn’t open until 7 so that was out.
He sank into his desk chair and had a staring contest with the dog.
“I’ve been given the impossible,” he told the dog, running his hand through his hair. “I’ve done all I can but I’ve run out of ways to stall this. Well. Legally.”
The dog moved forward to come and sit right between his legs and look up at his face.
He smiled. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do anything dishonest. Though heaven knows they have.”
The dog cocked its head.
“I’ve kept record of it,” he told it, running a hand over the silky black head. “I hoped to be able to use it, but I don’t know who to appeal to with the head of the company not really present.”
The dog turned to lick his hand and whine softly.
“I sent numerous letters to the assistant for Lord Vader, but I’ve never heard back.”
The kettle pinged and he rose to make tea, the black head following, right at his knee.
“At some point, dog, we have to find out who you belong to,” Piett told it, allowing the tea to steep and seeking to do something about his hair. He snagged the electric razor he kept in his desk for the too many nights that he done things just like this and made himself as presentable as he could.
He had his tea, ran over his notes in his mind as he did so and finally rolled his sleeves back down to button the cuffs and shrug his jacket back on.
“Tie straight?” he asked the dog who cocked its head again and licked its chops.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he told it, picking up the relevant folders and patting the black head. “You however, should stay here. Please try not to destroy my office.”
It occurred to him the dog may need water. He ducked out of the office and shut the door, hurrying to the small break room nearby, where he stole a small plastic bowl out of the drainer by the little sink and filled it with water.
He ducked back into the office, set it on the floor and prayed that the dog didn’t decide to use his laptop as a chew toy.
Veers met him as they were about to enter the conference room on the 26th floor.
“Slept here didn’t you?” he asked, giving him a swift glance.
“No choice really, Max,” he sighed. “Hopefully I’m not too rumpled.”
“It’s not terrible. But you look like someone has punched you in the eyes repeatedly.”
“You know I so appreciate all the ways you help with my confidence here, Max.”
“You’re welcome, Firmus. And when the meeting is over, you are coming home with me and planting yourself in my guest room for twelve hours.”
“Max…”
Ozzel came up behind them and both of them shut up as they all entered the conference room. All the Senior department members were there and the chair at the head was empty.
“When does Lord Vader arrive?” Max asked softly.
“I had thought he was already here,” Piett answered.
The meeting began with presentations from Tarkin and Ozzel on all the benefits of the potential merger. Various discussions took place and Piett watched the clock. An hour passed and Lord Vader had still not arrived.
He had been counting on presenting his position to his Lordship--- a last ditch effort to stop this.
Instead he rose, keenly aware that he hadn’t had breakfast, and made his way to the front to present all that he had worked on.
Fifteen minutes in, Ozzel stopped him, red in the face with fury.
“You were to prepare all the briefs demonstrating the specific benefits to our overseas branches, Piett. Instead, you have decided to come up with your own fanciful interpretation of it. You have been determined to undermine this the whole way. And I am done.”
Piett looked around the table. Some of the people present were frowning slightly at Ozzel’s display of temper. Others were nodding in approval. Max was glaring at his mug of tea, because otherwise it would be directed Ozzel’s way.
“Sir,” he began.
“No. Either show us what you were requested to or sit down.”
Piett stared him in the eye. “I was told, sir, to give a thorough analysis for the benefits and issues this could present. I have done so.”
“We are not interested in what you see as issues, Piett. But then what can one expect from a Geordie?”
A few chuckles around the table and Max huffed audibly.
Piett was from Newcastle it was true. He was proud of that. But in order to avoid the persecution that Ozzel and his kind could perpetuate, he had carefully worked on his accent at Uni.
“Sir, I have done my due diligence....”
“Sit down and shut up, Piett. I’m done with your obstructionist attitude.”
And something inside of him snapped.
This firm was in the family of Padme’ Amidala. He had worked hard here for her. For her children whom he used to play with. For the more aloof man who was her husband.
“No. You are seeking to destroy this firm. You have used underhanded and illegal means to bring this together and I will not be silent about it. The family who owns it has a good name and reputation, and I will not stand by and allow you to destroy that!”
Max was staring at him in shock. Half the table was also stunned, and the other half angry.
Ozzel was apoplectic.
“You…..you working class trash! You are fired! How dare you speak to me like that?”
“How dare I?” Piett growled, his fury giving him adrenaline. “I would ask the same of you, you grovelling ladder climber.”
Max was striving to hide his grin.
“If you don’t leave this building this instant…”
“Oh I’m going,” Piett answered coolly. “The air is too foul in here.”
He left, quivering with rage as Ozzel attempted to get the meeting back on track.
By the time he made it to his office, he had cooled off enough to realize that he was going to be in a tough spot within a few weeks.
Ozzle would make it hard for him to get a job….
He couldn’t think about that. He opened the office door and something large and black got its paws on his shoulders in greeting.
Right. He had forgotten about the large black dog in his office.
The dog currently greeting him like a long lost friend.
Rather nice frankly, given the circumstances.
“Down boy. Girl? Boy?”
Piett really didn’t want to find out at the moment.
He gathered his belongings (happily, they weren’t much) and shrugged on his coat. The satchel and computer bag went over his shoulder and he lifted the box with his bits and left.
After turning his security card over to the guard at the front, he made his way down the damp pavement to the nearest Tube station.
The dog followed.
*****
The human was leaving the building.
She didn’t know why she didn’t approve, but she didn’t.
Her owner was somewhere in the building.
But this human really ought to belong to her, she just knew it, and she therefore couldn’t let him out of her sight.
Owner would understand.
Short human with the kind eyes was going underground. She didn’t particularly care for going underground herself, but if he was doing so, she would join him.
She trotted down the steps after him and followed him to the platform where they waited in the crush of people.
The huge metal snake pulled up and they squeezed their way inside. The short human had to stand as there were no seats. She stood in front of him so that he would not be crushed into the doors.
She had noted that the humans were more reluctant to harm animals than one of their own kind. She found that rather sad in some ways.
The short human was very tired. She could sense this. And sad. As the snake slowly emptied, she nudged his knee toward a seat. He looked down at her.
“Not subtle are you? But thank you.” He eased down, holding all his things. She sat near him and rested her head on his knee.
She sensed his sudden intake of breath and knew that he was very sad, but also appreciated her gesture. His hand rested on her head.
At last, he rose and as the doors hissed open, they stepped out of the snake and onto the platform. He led the way up the stairs, moving slowly and getting shoved aside more than once as the crowd hurried and crushed up the stairs.
At last they made it to the top and she discovered that it was raining. Normal in this land, but not good for her human.
Was he her human? Hmmm. Owner was good. She liked owner. But she had not thought of him in quite the way she was thinking of the short human.
He walked with his head bent against the rain. Humans really needed coats like hers. One could just shake and things were so much better.
He paused in front of a small bank of flats and fiddled with keys before at last entering and getting in from the rain.
She shook and he sighed. “Should have expected that, shouldn’t I?”
He set his things down and then paused to look at her.
“I don’t have any dog food. You’re likely hungry as well.” He shrugged his wet coat off and hung it to dry in the shower, then toed off his shoes and trotted to the kitchen to search behind all his doors.
“Hmm.” This was a thinking noise that humans made.
He looked in the cold door.
“Well. I do have sausages. I suppose we could both do that right?”
He pulled out meat sticks and she approved.
He cooked them on the hot box and placed hers on a plate on the floor, while he sat at his table. She did not like the way he shivered. She did like the meat sticks.
She went to thank him (good manners after all) and placed her head on his knee again. She could feel that his temperature was not normal. Too warm.
She huffed and he chuckled.
“Something on your mind, dog?”
Clearly he had not had anyone to take care of him. Well, she was here now. Though owner would perhaps be concerned.
That was true.
It seemed that her human had thought of this though.
He was speaking on the small machine.
“When do you close? Lovely. I’ll bring it in to scan for a chip.”
He looked down at her.
“All right dog. I hope you’re chipped so we can find out who you belong to.”
Oh. Oh dear. He didn’t realize that she had adopted him.
He found a belt and looped it around her collar. She had managed to lose the small metal piece with her name.
Well.
She hadn’t lost it. Artoo had. Deliberately.
But this was not something she could fix at the moment.
He put on a rain jacket this time (better) and found some wellies after digging in the closet.
They set off once more and after about fifteen minutes they entered a building that smelled of all sorts of animals.
She ignored the foul language of several cats (what could you expect of the spawn of hell, really?) and gave superior stares to a few dogs that were cheeky enough to sit up and look at her.
One was a puppy and it wagged fiercely and tried to get to her. She rolled her eyes.
Of course, Artoo wasn’t much better and he was full grown.
Her human spoke with a large woman behind a counter, and then they went around the counter where the large woman ran a wand over her.
The beep made both humans pleased and they looked at the box that told people things.
“All right, I can get in contact with the owner….”
“I’m Firmus Piett. Here’s my number. I’ll just hold onto her then.”
“Are you sure? We can keep her here if that’s easier…”
Her human glanced down and she knew he wouldn’t do that.
“No, that’s all right. Thank you.”
He stopped at a corner Tesco’s to buy a small bag of dog food after she smelled all the kinds and pointed to that one.
Then they returned to his flat and he gave her water, and then sat on his sofa and put his head in his hands.
She paused in her drink to look at him. She did not like the sadness that was coming off of him in waves.
She trotted over to nudge his arm with her nose.
“Thank you. Fate has an interesting sense of humor, sending you today. I’m glad not to be alone, Lady.”
She perked her ears straight up. He had discovered her name.
He smiled at her sadly. “You know your name.”
She gave him a look. Of course she knew her name. What was she, a rabbit?
“Lady is a good name. You are one aren’t you?” He rubbed her ears and she leaned into him.
“I tried, Lady. I tried everything I could think of.” He let out a shuddering breath. “And I’m not sure to this day why the family doesn’t want me to contact them but….”
He rubbed at his face. “I can respect their wishes. I just….”
She whined and licked his face.
He laughed, but it was not happy. “I would keep you I think, if you didn’t have an owner. It’s not very fun to be by oneself, Lady. Especially when one has thought that one had a family….”
He stopped. She shoved her head into his chest and he grunted slightly.
“Well. Thank you. Is that a hug?”
She perked her ears at that word, and rose to place her paws on either side of him on the sofa.
A real laugh this time. “You know that word then.” He scratched her ears and oh yes, that was just the spot.
His little machine made a noise.
He rose and retrieved it from the counter in the kitchen.
“Hello? Oh, yes indeed. She’s right here. Perfectly fine. I’ll be here all day. Yes, thank you.”
He pushed something and looked down at her. She wagged her tail slowly.
“Your owner is coming to get you, Lady.”
Was he? That would be pleasant to see him. She wondered how she could explain that this was her human.
“I should tidy and attempt to be presentable I suppose. And then I should see if I can still find a job in London after Ozzel is finished destroying my reputation.”
She didn’t like the hopeless tone in his voice.
He moved around, her short human, moving items and then he disappeared into another room, returning in fresh trousers and button down shirt.
His face was still very tired and sad. He couldn’t change that it seemed. And he had started to cough slightly.
She disapproved and told him so with a bark.
“What was that for?” He was puzzled.
She tried to get him to sit down on the sofa, but he was pulling out his box of knowledge and opening it at the table.
For the next few hours, he worked on the box, tapping it with his fingers.
She lay down on his feet under the table and dozed.
The chime of the doorbell had her raising her head abruptly and scenting the air.
She knew that scent.