A/N: Written as a gift fic for a good friend. We all have our favorite scenes in Star Wars, be it in the movies or the books. And we all have those moments were we wish we could step into those scenes and change things. What if we could do it? What if you were given the chance to go into that favorite scene and do what you wanted... only it didn't turn out the way you expected? What if that one tiny little change reshaped the stories we all know and love? I know it's been done before but I couldn't help myself. This is a semi-serious crackfic that's going to tap dance all over established continuity and go so far AU that I'm not sure it will ever circle back. So please keep that in mind as you read. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please do not sue.


Staring down the barrel of a standard E-11 blaster rifle wasn't exactly the way I'd planned on ending my evening. I thought that as I lay prone on the cold deck plating, a small swarm of white-armored men filling the cramped corridor. Part of me was aware that I should be screaming right now, and indeed part of me was doing that inside my scrambled little brain. But whatever had happened to me was calling the shots across my body at the moment, and that meant my mouth wasn't on board with the whole scream-and-yell plan.

Come to think of it, my body wasn't on board with pretty much anything right then, save for staring at that rifle and beyond it the stormtrooper that held it a foot above my face.

Panic nattered down my spine like an annoying chipmunk, like Alvin had taken up residence inside my spinal fluid and was singing away in that super high pitched voice that something was horribly, terribly wrong with this situation. My benumbed brain couldn't quite figure it out, though. Yes, I was a little upset that I was laying on a cold hard surface. Yes, it was quite alarming to have a weapon pointed at my face. I was rather fond of having a face, you see, and I really didn't want to have it shot off. Even the man in the white armor was slightly jarring to my senses, but it wasn't unfamiliar.

Maybe I had fallen down at a sci-fi con? Yes, that had to be it. I'd slipped and fell, and this fellow con attendee was playing the part of his stormtrooper cosplay to the letter, standing over me until I could regain my senses and get up on my own. So why was Alvin continually racing across my spine and shoulders, singing the "you are such a freaking idiot" song?

I frowned slightly, trying to lift my arm to my face in a futile attempt to wipe away the brain haze that clouded my judgment. My arm didn't want to move quite yet, and the cosplayer above me brought that rifle just an inch closer to my face.

"I said don't move," came the filtered voice from that helmet.

My frown deepened. "Rude much?" I managed out, my voice sounding all shades of thick and slow to my ears. I must have hit the ground harder than I thought.

Seriously, I had simply slipped and fell! It wasn't like I was going to walk away without thanking him for his help or apologizing for screwing up his time at the con. He didn't have to be so douchy about it. I was clumsy even on my best day, and I was just thankful that a) I hadn't broken anything and b) I hadn't hurt anyone in the process. Or had I? Vague impressions started to work its way through the fog in my head, and Alvin and his sing-song insults began to recede. Something about a woman in white and shoving her out of the way from some bluish burst of light…

My frown turned into a look of shock. "Dude! I'm so sorry," I slurred. "You and the girl dressed like Princess Leia! You were doing some sort of show thing, weren't you? Oh man, I'm sorry I interrupted it. I—"

The dude in the armor pulled his weapon away from my face and backed up. A new face filled my vision, this one of a man in a black Imperial uniform, his rank bar and code cylinder naming him a commander. He had a hard face and even harder eyes, the lines of his expression drawn taught as he stared down at me like, well, I was a clumsy idiot that had ruined his show. Which I probably was.

"What did you just say?" He demanded.

Really, the rudeness was really getting to be a bit much. And it dawned on me that I knew the guy. Okay, I knew who he was cosplaying as, I should say. "Look, Commander Nahdonnis Praji, or whatever your real name is, I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to get in the way, so cut the attitude already."

If I said his face had been hard before, it positively turned to stone now. "Get her up," he growled. "Inform Lord Vader that we have two prisoners for him."

My former white-armored-jerkface reappeared to my left and a new jerkface appeared at my right. I was unceremoniously hauled to my feet between the two, my arms pulled out in front of me. Commander Praji or whomever he really was grabbed my proffered wrists roughly. A set of realistic looking binders clamped down my skin, cold and hard enough that I winced. That had really hurt.

"Seriously!" I twisted as much as I could between the two jerkfaces—which was to say I really didn't move much at all. "What's your damage? Haven't you ever heard of unlawful imprisonment? Let me go before I call for the real police. I'm not participating in your little show, so back off!"

"Are you quite done?" the Praji wannabe said coldly. So coldly in fact that it caught me off guard for a second. And he took the initiative left in the wake of my surprise. "Good. Then allow me to set the record straight for you, prisoner. You will participate in this little 'show' as you called it and you will answer my questions. First off, what did you mean when you said 'the girl dressed like Princess Leia?' Are you telling me that this is an imposter?"

He nodded his head to the side, and two more jerkfaces hauled the Leia-look-alike over to me. "Is this not Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan?"

The woman in white next to me looked like I felt, all wobbly and out of it. But she managed to do so in a regal way that left me breathless with envy. Her chocolate brown eyes were sharp, however, even if her feet kept trying to slide out from under her. The look she gave the Commander Praji wannabe could have etched steel.

"I am Senator Organa, Commander," she told him in a clipped tone that was laced with equal parts acidic hate and royal ice. Ignoring me completely. "And I demand to know why you have detained my ship and injured my crew."

The Praji dude wasn't so content to forget my existence. After staring down the Leia gal, searching her face so hard that I was mildly surprised he wasn't leaving marks on it with his eyes, he turned that stone mug of his back towards me. "I don't know what game you two are playing, but for your sakes I hope you drop it soon," he said simply, taking a step back. "Lord Vader will determine the truth of this matter. "

I gaped at him. Was he serious? Was I really being kidnapped by a bunch of Star Wars loving cosplayers? I mean, attending science fictions cons, you hear all sorts of horror stories about people wandering off alone only to be kidnapped and murdered or whatever by psychos dressed as their favorite characters. I'd always blown those stories off. Most people involved in cosplay were decent folks that only wanted to dress up and have fun. And they generally were the most helpful people I'd ever met, looking out for one another and making sure crap like this didn't happen.

So why was it happening, and to me of all people?

Come to think of it, when did I arrive at con in the first place? I tried to think, to push aside the gloom that my brain felt like it was dipped in. If I only had a second to think, I was certain I could figure out just what in the world was going on here. There had been the sensation of falling, I remembered that at least. And then there was that feeling of rapid movement and shoving the Leia-look-alike out of the way of a stream of blue swirling light.

I'd always wanted to do that, to save the Princess before Vader got his robotic paws all over her. But in that fantasy, I'd been slick and so Mary-Sue it almost made my teeth hurt. I'd pushed her out of the way, dodged the stun beam, picked up her fallen gun and taken out an entire squad of stormtroopers all by myself. Of course I'd taken a very sexy scar on my cheek during the combat from a near miss of a blaster bolt, because let's face it, all heroes look sexier with minute scars just under or over their eyes.

I mean, look how hot Anakin was in Episode III when we first saw him on screen. I'd wanted to tie him down and run my tongue over that scar until we were both moaning and his hands were sliding up my sides, getting ready to pull me down into a kiss that would… well, it was my fantasy, dammit. Don't judge me.

But this? This wasn't anywhere near my fantasy of saving Princess Leia. In that fantasy, after I'd earned my delicious scar that I was going to enjoy having Luke lick until… again, you get the point. Don't judge, I said! In that fantasy, we'd managed to flood the ship with some sort of coolant gas that rendered everyone unconscious. Then Leia and I made it into an escape pod and down to Tatooine. We became best friends in that scenario and went on to help crush the Empire.

The look my erstwhile future best friend was giving me right now wasn't anywhere near the relieved joy she'd worn in my fantasy. And the fact that I wanted to throw up all over Commander Praji's boots was far from how I was supposed to feel when we escaped. Actually, the only thing that I'd managed to do right according to my mental fanfiction was push Leia out of the way.

Only to get stunned myself, I realized. That's how I ended up flat on my back. That's why I felt like someone had tied me to a chair and beaten me with hammers.

I wasn't at a convention. The jerkfaces holding my arms weren't wearing modified hard plastic armor they'd made themselves, either. It was the real deal. And the blaster that had been aimed at my face hadn't smelled of molded silicon and model paint. It had smelled of cooling metal and faint ozone from the stun bolt it had delivered. And Alvin the Harbinger-Of-Doom chipmunk was joined by Simon and Theodore inside my brain to squeak out a loving rendition of "You're So Screwed."

Praji nodded to the four-pack-o-jerkfaces currently restraining Leia and I. "Take them."

"Woah. First off, buddy, there is no 'them,"' I struggled as much as I could as we brushed passed him, my brain refusing to accept the impossible conclusions my mind had come up with. "I have no idea who this woman is really! And secondly, I'm done participating in this little power game of yours. Get this crap off my arms and let me go before I press charges. Seriously, let go!"

"Do shut up," Leia retorted hotly and primly in my direction. "I have no idea who you are or how you got here, but you have done quite enough to make a difficult situation even worse."

"Well, that's one of the things I'm good at, your worship," I snapped back. "I screw up plenty on my own without your commentary."

Apparently that was the last straw from Commander Praji. He crossed briskly over to me, pulling some sort of silvery flexible rectangle from a pouch on his belt. Frick and Frack, the names I'd given the two jerkfaces holding me like a sack of potatoes beween them, came to a stop. One of them grabbed my hair to hold my head steady. I barely had time to grunt out a "oh, hell no!" before that silvery material was slapped over my mouth. It clung to my face on its own accord.

"I still have other questions for you later, rebel," he growled quietly. "Like how you knew me on sight."

I was suddenly glad that Leia was behind me. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of watching the blood drain from my face, or the look of horror half hidden behind Praji's gag. She was right. My mouth and I had done plenty to make a bad situation worse, and it had only just begun.