SERIES: Living With Your Ghost
PART: 3 of 5
RATING: PG-13 (Adult thematic material, language, character
death, angst)
PAIRING(s): Currently unsure of pairings, if any.
DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself and FG so far; any other
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CATEGORY: Drama/Supernatural
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SETTING IN TIMELINE: Alternate canon - set around season
four.
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne is haunted by an apparition.
NOTES: Lyrics by Everclear.
***
As in her previous dream, Laverne walked among the clouds,
floating in the mist like an angel on wings.
Lenny was beside her this time, holding her hand, pulling her through
the mist like a tugboat.
It was all a fantasy - like she had been dropped into the
middle of a Ginger Rogers dance number.
Her outfit was made of white and grey cobwebs, her hair shining with
sprinkles of glitter. She couldn't
believe it was all true, but it felt remarkably real when Lenny put his arms
around her.
In the distance, some sort of orchestra began to play.
"Remember?"
She did remember.
They had taken lessons together, at Lenny's mother's
request, when she was six and he was five.
One of Lenny’s mother's final requests had been that he should learn to
dance like a gentleman. Helga Kosnowski
had loved movies and the theatre, and to have her son turn into Fred Astaire was her highest goal. His father pulled Lenny out of the classes
after his mom disappeared, and Laverne's pop moved her in to tap-dancing.
He took her hand and pulled her into a waltz.
It was perfect, and unlike him. "You never got past the third
lesson," she whispered.
"Up here, lessons don't mean nothing."
She smiled.
"Len, we gotta stop seeing each other
like this. I like it a lot, but...you
know you're dead, don't you?"
"Do you know what today is?"
"Huh?"
"Do you know what today is?"
"Len, I don't know what you're saying."
"It's May. Wake
up, Laverne, wake up!"
**
She opened her bleary eyes, focusing on the face of Shirley
Feeney.
"Do you want to sleep till May? It's
"Shirl," she said
intensely. "Have you ever had a bad
dream? The kinda
dream that feels so real that you think you're having it?"
"Of course! Was I talking out loud about Fabian in my
sleep again?"
"No...Shirl, I had a
nightmare about Lenny."
"Please don't do this, Laverne. You're only hurting yourself by blaming
yourself for his death."
"Shirl, I ain't blaming
myself for his death. But I keep
dreaming about him..."
"What do you do in the dreams?"
"Go dancing."
"That's funny - when he was alive, the one thing you
wouldn't do with him was dance..."
Laverne gulped.
"I gotta get up. I'm going to work today."
"All right - you can have the shower after I'm
done. If I were you, I'd take the rest
of my sick leave. Mister Shotz has been
so generous to us..."
The mediocrity of work would be a relief. Shirley didn't understand.
**
Laverne moved like an automaton through the well-wishers,
smiling fakely for everyone in her bandana and
smock. It was a miracle to get down to
the line and begin the monotony of capping.
At least the accident hadn't atrophied her tendency toward the mediocre,
Laverne snickered to herself. When the
whistle blew, she accepted more well-wishers with her tuna fish sandwich in the
break room.
One man in particular hovered over her. "Hey Laverne!"
It was white-haired, bony, blue-eyed Eddie from brewing. "How do you feel about going out on
Friday?"
"Well..." Laverne thought it over. A date would be another distraction - more
proof that there were things to live for besides Lenny. "I haven't been out since the
accident...that sounds great."
"Good, I'll pick you up at nine!"
"Great!"
But when Laverne reached for her bottle of beer, the bottle was pulled
violently from her fingertips. Only
Laverne paid witness to the bottle's wild mid-air dance as it was lifted from
the counter of its own volition.
And then slammed with force into a wall.