# 313; Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

Nov 19, 2010 08:45

Title: When Spies meet the Ghost of Love Disasters Past
Author: Omnicat
Word Count: 710
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Middie & Meilan
Warnings: Language, one mention of pot and whiskey each.
Author’s Note: I didn't take the prompt too literally - just went with the "dead people" part. The current prompt over on DreamWidth happens to be "coffee", the two of them mixed, and... this is the result. Yay?
This is a side-ficlet to my  "When Spies have..." series, set between "No Good, Very Bad Days" and "Hopefully Ever Afters". This version can be read without knowing anything about the other parts, though it probably looks like random crack. Oh well, what can you do. The more context-dependent version is here. Also, covert crossover. Sorry kid, you did grow on me a bit, but you just make it too easy.

Middie Une meets the ghost of Meilan, runs out of patience for anything ever.



When Spies meet the Ghost of Love Disasters Past

Middie said a little prayer to her dearly departed sanity while she lit the endless amount of candles the handbook had recommended, but did not stop herself from sitting down by the spirit board. While the past months had seen a great upturn in her professional life, they had not been as kind to her personal relationships. It had started with the boy she had developed Stockholm Syndrome for as a child and only gone downhill from there. Bizarre coincidence had followed bizarre coincidence until she could only assume that karma was paying her back tenfold for every little lie she’d ever told, and after a near-death experience during which she met Treize-freaking-Khushrenada on a cloud with a halo over his head, she was pretty much done questioning the sanity of anything.

“Oh veil-piercing coffee machine of the dead, please answer my call, please allow me to gossip with the departed dear one of a gundam pilot.” she chanted as best she could, keeping one eye on the copy of Modern Séances: Reach The Recently Dead In Twelve Easy Steps lying open beside her and the other on the hot coffee she carefully poured onto the very centre of the board, from where it spread through a maze of carved grooves and formed a dark, wet pattern against the cheap plywood. “Oh distant acquaintance of a distant acquaintance, please hear the bubble and sputter of a nice fresh cuppa and come gossip across the veil of death with the distant acquaintance of a distant acquaintance.”

And what do you know: amidst the potent smell of coffee, pine and what she could have sworn was marihuana, a translucent silvery shape welled up from the board, like a particularly large and deformed soap bubble.

Middie barely managed to keep from banging her face against the soiled wood, slapping her palm to her forehead instead. Of course it works. OF COURSE. WHY THE HELL WOULDN’T IT?!

There was an even bigger problem than her now confirmed insanity, though: the lone annoyed-looking, teenaged, female, Asian ghost was most certainly not who Middie had called for.

‘Who the hell are you?’ the ghost-girl asked, her voice echoing eerily.

“Who the hell are you?” Middie countered.

‘I asked first!’

“My name is Middie Une,” she sighed. Why fight it? Maybe it was better this way. “I’m the one who called you down from your cloud.”

The girl swelled with indignation. ‘You did that? Then I sure as hell ain’t telling you my name.’

“Fine, fine. All I want to know is - what the hell do you have to do with the gundam pilots?”

‘Have to do with them? I am a gundam pilot! I was once the pilot of the mother of all mobile suits, gundams or not. And you could even say -’ - the girl cast a quick smirk to the ceiling - ‘- that since the greatest of mobile suits, Shenlong, was named for me and became my shrine, I am not only a gundam pilot, but a gundam.’

Outside resounded an inexplicable clap of thunder.

‘That’s right, you heard me, you loser!’

“Shenlong?” Middie groaned meanwhile. “That wasn’t Trowa’s gundam, that was...” She wracked her brain. “Wufei’s. Nataku, is it?”

‘Oh, you guessed.’ the girl said dismissively. She looked around Middie’s cluttered living-room floor as if searching for something. ‘If you had to drag me down here for nothing anyway, you could have at least brought some sweets to go with the coffee.’

“If I give you sweets, could you patch me through to Mr or Mrs Bloom? If they don’t mind, I’d like to ask some questions about their son. I was hoping that they might be able to help sort some things out between him and me.”

‘Never heard of ’em. But even a former girl turned legendary warrior spirit has her needs, you know, and I might go poltergeist if you -’

“Alright, alright, forget it!” Middie pulled a box of chocolates from her shopping bag, removed the cardboard lid and shook them from their little plastic beds onto the spirit board. “Will you at least get lost now?”

‘With pleasure!’ Nataku crowed, dove face-first into the pile of chocolate, and disappeared.

Middie cleaned up the mess and broke out her special bottle of whiskey.

meilan, middie une, 313 - obituaries would be a lot more int, gen fic

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