Call Waiting: Andrew
Summary: Andrew realizes his lifelong dream.
Almost.
Rating: PG
Timeline: Sometime before the finale. Who cares?
Spoilers: I sure can't think of any.
Dedication: I'm not sure anyone would want this one, to be
honest. But I have to give a shout out to Jen,
Meg, Dot, Vic and of course Melissa. This one hasn't been beta-ed, so any mistakes
are purely my own.
*****
"This is just so cool!" Andrew enthused to the stormtrooper in front of him.
"Tell me about it," the stormtrooper said, his voice muffled inside his helmet. "I can't believe they got him to come to Sunnydale. Last year, the only person they could get was Denis Lawson. What a gyp."
"Hey," Andrew cautioned, "Wedge was cool. They couldn't have beaten the Empire without Wedge."
"I know," the stormtrooper agreed. "I like Wedge. But if I'm paying thirty bucks to get in and spending six hours in this costume, I want someone with top billing, y'know? They could've at least gotten Peter Mayhew, that's all I'm saying."
"Peter would've been great, yeah," Andrew said, "but this is so much cooler."
"Better believe it," the stormtrooper said. "Hey, I'm up! Good talking to you, man."
"You, too," Andrew called after him as he walked away.
<I'm next!> He could barely believe it. He was about to meet one of his idols, one of the people who had shaped his young life. Not just one of the people, really. When you got right down to it, he was about to meet the one man who meant the most to him. The one man who he knew would truly understand him. The one man who...
"Hey," the teenaged girl in the Princess Leia slave costume said from behind him. "Your turn."
"Thanks," Andrew muttered, stepping forward and taking it all in.
He ignored the bustle of the con around him. He ignored the scattered security guards, there to keep the fans under control. He ignored the pressure from the line behind him to hurry up and get out of the way.
His whole world was taken up by the table in front of him. By the big sign that said "Sunnydale Welcomes Mark Hammill!" And most especially by the man himself, seated behind the table with a weary smile on his face. A smile meant only for Andrew.
"Hi," Mark said. "What can I sign for you?"
Andrew handed over his stack of movie programs and photos. Mark bent to start signing them.
"Please sign them to Andrew, Mr. Hamill. Andrew Wells."
"Call me Mark," Mark said, looking up and smiling again.
<I can call him Mark!>
"Okay, uh, Mark. I just wanted to say that you're my hero. No, really," he went on as Mark started to reply. "You're just the best. I've always felt a bond with you, ever since I first saw Star Wars. I've got all your movies on DVD, even the ones that are only out on video. I copied them onto my computer and burned my own DVDs. I think Corvette Summer came out the best."
"Wow," Mark said, "that's very impressive. I'm honored."
"No, sir," Andrew assured him. "It's me who's honored. You really are my idol. I've never... Well, I never really knew my father, and I always thought... This is embarassing, but I always thought that if I did know him, he would've been just like you."
Mark was clearly moved by that. "That's... That's quite a lot to take in, Andrew," he said. He began to say something else, then stopped. "Wait - Andrew Wells, you said your name was?"
"Yes," Andrew said.
"And you're how old?"
"I'm twenty. Why?"
"What about your mother?" Mark pressed on. "What's her name?"
"Jessica," Andrew said, completely bewildered.
"Were you born here in Sunnydale?" Mark asked, clearly excited.
"Yeah," Andrew said. "So what?"
"Oh my God!" Mark exclaimed, standing so fast he knocked his chair over. "I was here in Sunnydale 20 years ago, and I knew a Jessica Wells!"
"What are you saying?" Andrew asked, excitement building within him.
"Andrew," Mark intoned, his voice growing deeper, "I... AM... YOUR FATHER!"
"Really?" Andrew breathed. In a second, all of his hopes and dreams had come true.
"No!" Mark screamed. "What are you, an idiot? I never even heard of this damn town until my agent booked me here. Get out of here, you freak."
"But... but..." Andrew had no time to say anything else. Three security guards converged on him and began hustling him out of the convention center.
"Good lord," Mark said to himself, "I've seen some weirdos, but that guy took the cake."
Turning his attention back to his adoring fans, Mark gestured the next person in line forward.
"Well, hello," he said. "I like the outfit. What's your name, beautiful?"
END
****
NOTES: I want to make it plain that Mark Hamill isn't really an asshole. Every story I've heard about him says he's a pretty cool guy and treats his fans very well. But I figured, if he ever was to have a Shatner-on-SNL moment, it'd be with a guy like Andrew.
In other news, I know I spelled Hamill wrong on the sign. I figure a two-bit con like Sunnydale could manage would do something like that. That's the sort of thing I put into my stories to amuse myself.