Title: "The After-Life and Misadventures of Duo Maxwell, First Class Corpse"
Author: Euce. [email@example.com, firstname.lastname@example.org]
Credits: Gundam Wing and all its creators for so graciously turning a blind eye as I bastardize their series like the many [and decidedly much better] GW fanfic authors before me.
Rating: For all the chapters I have completed thus far, it's pretty light. I wouldn't say it exceeds PG-13. Alternative Universe, modern setting- could be now, just then, or tomorrow.
Brief Contents/Warnings Listing: Death, Romance, Police Detectives, Light Angst, Ghosts, Vague Plot, Homosexual Themes, Neckbraces, and Dream Sequences. [..ew.]
Summary: This is actually a relatively light AU romance / horror / drama / ghost fic that deals with the after-life, the fragility of human emotion and it's ability to break all known boundaries, and other such things. I want to try to use as much of the cast of GW in this fic as possible. Please review me, critique me heavily. Let me know where I've screwed up, or where I need improvement. I think that sums it up.
Additional Author's Notes:
All apologies for this. I've been inactive for awhile, sadly. This part seems kind of muddled to me. Ah well.
Duo was thrilled, leaning forward on the hood, watching sprawling brush, sand, low buildings, and asphalt whipping past. He had the vaguest sense of the wind blowing right through him. It almost tickled. The idea of any physical feeling at all thrilled him, and he could only bend further into it, trying to prolong it. He imagined his braid blowing back behind him like a streamer, his hands gripping the edge of the vehicle until his knuckles turned white. A great big grin on his face even as the cool wind stung at his eyes. He almost felt it happening. He would not have moved from his spot if he hadn't picked up distress from Detective Winner. He sat up and turned, watching the blonde practically climb into the dash, and caught a vague reflection of something in the windshield. Looking down at himself, Duo rejoiced! He had a shape! Well, sort of. He looked kind of wavy, like disturbed air, but he had something, and that was better than nothing. He could sing! He could dance! He - He was going to make Quatre crash!
"Shit!" Duo scrambled up the hood with the intentions of climbing in the window, maybe, but, in less than a moment, instinct seemed to take over for him, and he simply willed himself through the windshield, through Detective Winner, and into the back seat. He breathed a sigh of relief. That was close. That was weird!
"That was really, really cool," he mumbled. It was as though that by concentrating on it, he gave himself a body.. of sorts. And then, he made himself pass right through solid objects - solid people - just because he wanted to. Duo grinned. It might be easier to figure out how to communicate with the living than he first perceived - he'd already discovered two new things, and completely by accident. He tried concentrating on a body again. He pictured his hands, the whorls of his fingerprints, his [ironically very long] lifeline. He imagined his hands rubbing his new favorite detective's shoulders and neck, soothing away the tension and the distress. Duo thought he could just about feel the soft grain of the fabric, the heat - the delicious heat of a living body that he missed so much - under his fingertips. Duo was startled when the detective jerked from his touch, whipped around and looked him directly in the eyes. Duo swore - he swore he saw himself reflected in Quatre's eyes. His own real face, his actual eyes under arching, surprised brows...There wasn't much time to ponder this, though. Quatre seemed to slam on the brake and gas simultaneously, the car sideswiped the guardrail; Quatre was jerked in his seat and his head bounced off the window with a loud, heavy clunk and knocked the poor man unconscious. Trowa jerked the wheel into his control. Luckily, Quatre's feet had fallen off the gas and the brake in the confusion. Trowa guided the now-crawling car along the curb until it had slowed down a bit more and he was able to kill the engine and pull the parking brake. His breath came in heavy, shaking sighs. "Oh Quatre..." he stuttered, reaching for the limp body. He had to call an ambulance...