Lauren's Season Nine Continued!
Stangers On a Train
By Missy

SERIES: Lauren's Season Nine, Continued!
CHAPTER TITLE: Strangers on a Train
PART: 3 of 14, Episode 3, Pt.1 of 1
RATING: PG(Adult thematic material)
PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; S/R (Possible)
DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, 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!
CATEGORY: Drama
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SETTING IN TIMELINE: Post-Cali
CONTINUATION: Of Lauren's Season Nine
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne tries to whip the Pizza Bowl into shape, Walter and Shirley meet once more, to Carmine's jealousy.
NOTES: Thank you to Lauren for letting me continue her established continuity.

****

Carmine marvelled at his wife's ability to throw herself together, even when in the middle of an emotional crisis. Shirley appeared fresh as a daisy after weeks of crying and anxiety, aware enough to fuss over his hair and worry that he wasn't wearing a clean suit.

Carmine hated being fussed over; whenever Shirley went into a cleaning frenzy, he felt like nothing more than her overgrown embarrassment of a son. His sideburns were pasted down with a lick of her thumbs, and he slunk down behind her as they walked the four miles from their apartment door to the train station.

Carmine bought them a paper, which Shirley skimmed. Her eyes were red, the lids translucent; Carmine could not help but notice that she seemed to have rubbed them raw.

It was a hell of a change to be put through; during his admittedly brief courtship with Shirley in California, he had assumed that the baby was safe and away; her decision was not to be thought of or questioned. It was unlike Shirley to change her mind once it was set unless Laverne was sitting on her chest making her do so, but then again, maybe Shirley hadn't really been given another option.

The train grew larger, became louder, crossed the horizon, and slid to a stop in front of them. Shirley became tense on the bench, her expression a collapsing of nerves and a jaw that would not unlock. Carmine stood, waited for the crowd to thin out.

A man in a dark suit approached the bench, a baby in a sailor suit bouncing in his arms.

"Shirley?"

Her eyes locked on the top three brass buttons of the man's suit. Carmine, meanwhile, stared bluntly at the man's features. He was only mildly stunned to see that Walter Meeney looked a little bit like him; same dark, Mediterranean features. Only taller, with gray at the temples, and a bit more wrinkled at the eyes.

"You must be Mr. Ragusa."

Carmine had the presence of mind to remove his hand from his pocket, thrusting it against Walter's; the handshake was strong and Carmine detected the strong scent of tobacco in the air.

"Yes, Sir. Walter Meeney."

"Doctor Meeney." The voice wasn't cold, but rather corrective, like an English teacher correcting his pupil.

"Yeah." Carmine had the bizarre urge to introduce Shirley, but she saved him by stepping forward.

"Davy!" she said emotionally. "Come to mommy."

Walter handed her the baby without hesitation; the boy, however, instantly began to reach for Walter, tears welling up in his eyes.

"No! Davy, it's mommy!"

The child began to bawl, a look of horror crossing Shirley's face.

"It's okay, Shirley," Walter tried to comfort her, taking the baby back. "He's not used to being around you."

Shirley's mouth open; soundlessly, she tried to express her anger, her sadness.

Carmine intervened, "It ain't good for us to be standin' around in the middle of the train station."

Walter nodded, "Very well. Do you know of a coffee shop?"

"I've got something better than pizza for you, pal..." Carmine said, terminally jocular, frightening Shirley with his joie de vie.

They began to walk away from the station, toward the city. Shirley's eyes were focused on those of her son, wide, terrified, saddened.

***

"Who knew a floor could get so filthy?" Laverne muttered to herself; with a shiver, she realized that she sounded exactly like Shirley.

Bending back to her task, she rubbed at the spot which had become tacky in front of booth a. When her knuckles turned red, the spot was clean.

She mopped away the sweat, lugging the soapy pail of water toward the men's room.

"Vernie!"

Laverne jumped a mile at Lenny's voice, nearly spilling the pail of water. "LEN!"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"Whatt're you yellin' at?"

"Oh!" His eyes widened, memory returning and becoming frantic. "You gotta come with me!"

Laverne tried to protest, but she found herself being dragged into the alleys.

She had to admit, it didn't look too bad; Squiggy and Lenny had worked with her during their entire weekend off to make sure that the mechanisms in each lane still worked; the lanes sparkled, the balls gleamed...

...the ceiling had a huge blotch of what looked like maple syrup dripping off of it.

"I thought we cleaned up the lanes!" Laverne whined.

"Ya didn't tell us to look up," Lenny pointed out. His wife glared back at him.

"Okay; YOU get a ladder; I'LL pull Squiggy out of the men's room."

Lenny snickered at her choice of words. "Don't you even DARE!" she snapped, stalking out of the allies.

"SQUIGGY!"

"I'm undisposed!"

"Get outta the john! You gotta help Len clean the ceiling. AND YOU get on the ladder this time."

"But Lenny's taller!"

"I don't care! You forget to hold onto the ladder!"

Laverne heard a flushing, and Squiggy pushed past her. "Fine, fine. But if he wrecks my hair worm..." Laverne listened to his muttering as he left the room, an aggravated sigh filtering through her. She bent to pick up the pail of water.

"EY, DeFazio!"

She almost tumbled into the bucket. "Fonzie, Lenny's...." she began to explain.

"It's cool; I closed up the shop early, on account of him fixing the last wreck we had in record time."

Laverne's shoulders slumped in relief. Then a wicked idea slipped through her mind. "Hey, Fonz...are you busy?"

He knew the expression she wore too well. "I gotta date tonight..."

"Yeah, you always have a date...scrubbin' out a men's room..."

"Laverne!"

"I'll give ya a discount on yer first pizza!"

Fonzie gestured ineffectually. "Okay, fine. Take my jacket and I'll do it."

"Aww, gee, Fonz, I really owe ya."

"Yeah; just don't tell Cunningham about this."

"Scout's honor!" She took the folded jacket and carried it beneath her arm.

"What honor? You and Shirley got kicked out of the Daisy Scouts!"

Laverne gave Fonzie a playful shove toward the mop and bucket, which he picked up with as much dignity as possible and retreated into the men's room.

She had but a moment to reflect before voices began to echo down into the restaurant. She realized, quickly, that Shirley was coming, and Carmine. The third person and his child was, however, most unfamiliar. An antic expression of panic crossed her face when she recognized the voice. Why in the world had Shirley brought Walter here? She sucked in a breath and was in the process of beginning her welcoming speech when Walter extinguished his cigar on Fonzie's jacket.

"Really, Ragusa; you think to raise my son in a pizza restaurant?"


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