Writer's Block
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or it's characters. I merely use them to act out my wicked stories. No more than a fangirl's fantasies on paper. :D
I'd raced home after that, sitting on my couch and watching the same story again on another station. "Oh shit," left my mouth before I could stop it.
I sat there watching the rest of the news, but my mind was still on that story. The story that could reveal that Duo Maxwell really hadn't died, that could ruin this new life I've built. Then, the phone rang, the little old-fashioned phone popping up on the screen, it's receiver jumping up and down, the happy ringing tune playing.
"Start call," I said shaking my head, standing up, and placing a forced smile on my face.
It was Irene, my editor. She smiled at me, her blonde hair in curls falling around her face, brown eyes taking in my appearance. "Hello, sweetie, you feelin' okay?" she asked, her face turning from a smiling happy woman, to the concerned mother. Ah, she could read me like a book.
I sighed, shaking my head again. "Ah, it's nothing," I said, waving it off with my hand, grinning at her.
She gave me a calculating look then sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well, there is a signing tomorrow, remember? At the Camille Bookstore?" she asked, knowing I had totally forgotten…which I had.
I looked sheepish. "Oh yeah, that is tomorrow isn't it?"
She chuckled, rolling her eyes again at me. "I just wanted to remind you, and," she said, getting that look in her eyes like she had the greatest secret in the world to tell me. "And after you'll never guess! David, you are the luckiest man alive!"
"I was also the luckiest man alive when Life featured me, then the New York Post had me on their cover, and then when I got to do a interview and shoot for the Entertainment magazine," I said giving her an exasperated look. "I though you promised I could have a break for this month!"
"This, Davey, is not something you want to refuse!" she said, her 'you are going to love me for this' look not vanishing. "Relena Peacecraft has asked you to lunch!"
Then, it went black.
XxxXXxxX
I'm sure that there are still a few things you were wondering about. Like how did I escape so easily from the life I had? Why my fellow Gundam pilots didn't go through hell and high water to make sure I had actually died? Well, they did.
In fact, I have the documentary on the thing on tape sitting in the drawer of my nightstand. It was the weirdest thing. Of course, yes I knew they cared for me, I could believe it for that. But the documentary? I mean really, I wasn't that great.
But they did one, and so I had a biography of my whole life. It wasn't very flattering. There was a lawsuit against it by Quatre. I also have that on tape. Apparently the thing told the entire world a lie. That I was not the monster they made me to be. That the things they said about me in it also pertained and was insulting the other Gundam pilots.
I was flattered again. They thought my ghost should be remembered in a better and more rightful way. They then made another documentary; this time on the investigation Quatre and Trowa did, going into my death.
I have that on tape too, if you were wondering. Well, the only reason they did not know I was alive, was because the people in the bar I went to that night didn't even know I was there. That's right, I have my whole new life to thank because of those stupid drunk ass bastards never even realized I was in the same bar as them just as pissed.
Next, my financial thing. I got to Earth by working on a shuttle ship, instead of being paid in credits, I was paid by the ride there. I was a good mechanic, and that got me through that travel. Then, when I was on Earth, I just traveled by hitching rides on trains, or even sneaking on airplanes. It wasn't easy, but I managed it. Finally I somehow ended up in Boston and decided this was to be where I lived.
Then I worked part time at a café, writing chapters of my stories on napkins, and then also worked part time at an auto shop. Then I got my editor and suddenly I was rich and famous.
Now, my name obviously is no longer Duo Maxwell. I am now David Oliver Underhill. Yes, my initials are D U O. So I couldn't let go of my name, so sue me. Solo gave me that name and it was the only thing I had left of him.
Maxwell, however, I let go. I still had Father Maxwell's cross and I figured that would do. I then, to remember him even more, made the main character of my first best selling book James Maxwell.
Now, I have friends. Not friends like I used to, no, they don't pester me when they think I'm feeling bad, I have Irene for that, but I do go clubbing with them and go out to lunch. They're just friends I got from working at the café and auto shop.
So I'm not totally a recluse, only when I'm working to meet a deadline. Then, don't expect to hear from me for days. But I do go out, just not as often as most people would. That was my life as a writer.
Being famous did mean I had TV interviews; photo shoots for magazine covers, magazine interviews, and book signings. I've been on TV only once, and that was a risk I wasn't going to take again, I may not have my hair anymore, but people can still recognize my face.
I've been on four magazine covers, and they were in my glasses, which I don't really need to wear, but do to hide my face. I've probably done twenty interviews total, all magazine issues.
So that was my life. That was what I have accomplished. I was proud of it, and looked over these things every time I needed to be reminded that this wasn't a dream, and I really was David Oliver Underhill the best selling author.
It was a dream come true.
XxxXXxxX
Right now I sat in some fancy restaurant I'd never been to, Irene chatting happily away to me to my left, waiting for Ms. Relena Peacecraft. I'd fainted the night before, stop laughing, when Irene told me the news that I would be here having lunch with the woman from my past I never wanted to see again.
And that wasn't all, oh no, because God really did hate me. Heero Yuy, Quatre Winner, Trowa Barton, and Wufei Chang were all coming along too. Apparently the little misses was on vacation here and the four decided to tag along.
We were early, and it was another five minutes before they would come. I ran a hand through my short hair and crossed my eyes looking at the pair of glasses that sat on my nose. I prayed to whatever god that didn't hate me that the five of these blasts from the past wouldn't recognize me. My chances were slim, but I had the same percent for success on many of my missions back in the war, I had some elusive good luck, elusive, but still good luck.
"Ah! Mr. Underhill, what an pleasure it is to be dining with you!" came the voice that used to make me cringe. I looked up and straight into the eyes of my impending doom.
To be continued…?
Ah, there we go. Did I answer your questions? I hope so; I was planning on further explaining in this chapter anyway. The fist one was more of a prologue to get people interested. Which seemed to work! Thanks for your reviews and I hope you continue to read!