I Never Promised You a Pepsi Tree, Part 3
By Missy

SERIES: I Never Promised You a Pepsi Tree
PART: three, of an undetermined arc length
Author: Missy
Email: lasfic@yahoo.com
RATING: R, for heavy angst and dark themes
PAIRING(s): Richie/S/C; Fonzie/Lenny/Laverne; Pos. Carmine/Rosie Greenbaum

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask (Please Email Me), but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine. Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

DISCLAIMER: Laverne and Shirley, of course, not my property and belongs to its creators.

CATEGORY: Epic Drama
Crossover: HD/LS
CANNON/SPOILERS: Milwaukee; pre-California cannon; HD pre-Lorrie Beth
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Disaster strikes when one of the girls comes up pregnant.
NOTES: Heavier themes here.

****

She stared at the brown oak of the door, answer-free. Finally, she spoke, "It ain't yours, Len." She flatly stated.

His expression never wavered in its faithful expression, "You're lyin'. I know when your lyin', Laverne, and you are lyin'.

"Len, you big dope," Laverne spoke harshly, "I am not!"

"I saw the way you kissed Fonzie," He snapped, "There ain't nothin' between th' two of ya anymore." He practically grabbed her, pressing her form close to his, "Tell me ya don't feel a thing when I kiss ya. I dare ya!"

She wiggled free of his grip and flung open the door to her apartment, "Leave me alone, :Len," She snapped, "Or I'll get Fonzie after ya." Before he could say another word, she slammed the door in his face.

The appartment was dark, pitch-dark. But as she flicked on the lights, the unmistakable shape of Shirley Feeney lay sprawled across the couch, staring blankly at the wall.

"Shirl? C'Mon, Shirl, ya can't just lie there all day, starin' at the wall."

Shirley spoke, suddenly and robotically, "I'm resting, Laverne. I have to go to work tomorrow."

Laverne nodded, "I'm glad ya ain't gonna lie to them, Shirl. This is a real big deal."

"Life doesn't stop."

"It don't."

She smiled, bitterly.

"Shirl, it ain't good to keep secrets." She said, guiltily, "Are you sure we're doin' the right thing?"

Shirley laughed, bitterly, "You're one to talk, Laverne. You're one to talk."

*****

At noon the following day, Laverne stormed into the break room at Shotz with blood in her eye. Her entire day had been spent feeling the brush of cold shoulders and hearing the condescending prattle of her co-workers. It felt as though someone had embroidered a scarlet "P" in the place of the black velvet L that remained upon her smock.

Shirley, fortunately for her temper, seemed to float through the day in a state of non-existence. It worried Laverne to no end; her friend was operating like a robot. Even now, she sat chewing her food as though she could not enjoy or even taste it.

Laverne slumped down at the corner of her friend's table, trying to appear small. "Shirl, could ya at least try ta act normal around th' Cunninghams tonight? We gotta go to a bridal shop tonight."

"Tonight? I can't go with you tonight. I have a date with Carmine."

Laverne's face became an antic display of concern, "Ya sure you're ready for that?"

"I have to. There's something I've got to tell him."

Laverne's jaw dropped open, "Yer gonna tell him..."

"Yes. I have to."

"But we had a deal, Shirl!"

"Well, I can't live with myself, Laverne. I'm sorry, but I just can't!" At that, Shirley burst into tears, fleeing from the room.

Laverne sat, stewing in her own anger. When Lenny sat down next to her, she didn't even give any umbrage. Finally, he spoke:

"If they're gonna treat you like dirt, they're gonna treat me like dirt." He simply stated. That broke the spell that had been cast upon her form.

"Len..."

"I got a right. Yer my friend, no matter what, and I ain't goin' nowhere." He stated, steadfast to the end.

She simply gave in, allowing him to stay put.


****

At six o'clock sharp, Carmine Ragusa knocked on the door to his girlfriend's apartment. Enthusiasm sang through his veins; his best girl. He hadn't seen her in almost a month. He wasn't alone in that boat; no one had seen Shirley Feeney for almost a month; and it was almost as though she had disappeared off of the face of the earth for awhile.

The first thing he noticed was how pale her face looked. Of course, Shirley had always been pale; but now she looked almost wizened. Her smile was non-existent as she urged him to sit and plied him with a beer. Two swigs later, he asked her what was wrong.

"Wrong?" She laughed, fakely, "No no, nothing wrong, Carmine, nothing wrong..."

"You can't lie to me, Shirley Feeney," He responded plainly, "I know you like the back of my hand."

"Do you really?" She snapped, "Do you know what I'm thinking, right now?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

She took one, long breath, then said, "Carmine, it's so hard to say this...but I'm pregnant."

******

Laverne strode down Knapp Street jauntily; all she really wanted to do was get home and soak her feet. She clutched the gown that Mrs. C. and Joanie had helped her pick out; it was pale pink, spangled all over with pearls.

And not at all a reflection of who she was.

She kicked absently at a piece of rubber that had blown off of a car; flaccid, when it was once part of a tire, important. What she had done! Just to keep things as they were...just for protection...

She stopped short at what lay in front of her. Her eyes were wide, disbelieving, but they only confirmed that a woman lay, stretched flat across the sidewalk. The closer she came to the body, she realized that the woman was still breathing, still alive..and draped in a familiar mink stole. She placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, and she groaned, turning over, displaying the battered but unmistakable features of Rosie Greenbaum.

"Greenbaum?" She asked.

Rosie's eyes were fixed shut, but her attitude had not changed, "Get yer hands off of me, DeFazio." She insisted. And then passed out.



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