The Graces
By Missy

SERIES: The Graces
PART: one of one
Author: Missy
Email: lasfic@yahoo.com
RATING: PG-13 (For tramatic instance)
PAIRING(s): L/L

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: Drama
CANNON/SPOILERS: Milwaukee era
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Lenny must learn to deal with what he cannot change.
NOTES: Heavy angst warning, folks; you've been warned ;-)

****

"Don't hurt yourself."

He frowned at his wrists, they were no longer slick with blood. "I wanna."

Her arms surrounded him, as they did whenever he got himself in trouble. "No...You must come along," She kissed his brow, and her little hand filled his.

The graveyard was overgrown; filled with weeds. Every Saturday, he came with roses and tears. There was never enough money to take care of her plot properly; something that shamed him to the very core. She told him, often, that it didn't matter; she smiled on, regardless of the tribute.

He knelt at her headstone; ever the supplicant. And he began to speak his sorrowful tongue, once more.

It had been beautiful, innocent fun at first. A lustful release of beautiful energy. She had loved him, at last; bowed to the mutual need that built between them, like a firestorm. Then, one careless night at Inspiration Point later, she turned up pregnant...

"Don't say you're sorry." She urged, gently, "It couldn't be helped."

"I could've held back..."

"And that," The little girl said, gently, "Would be wrong."

He looked at her with rheumy eyes; her blond hair, green eyes, pure, white dress. She seemed a daughter of the sun.

Even Shirley had given in; agreed they should have married. They did so in the County Courthouse. He'd never attracted a woman his own age before; little old ladies and little girls loved him to death.

She had hated him, too.

Especially after two days of labor.

"But she's happy, now. And I'm happy, too."

"How come she never goes to see me?"

"I told you," She smiled, "She's busy painting stars."

Everyone had jobs up there; he didn't know whether that was a good thing. He didn't think it was fair, to have to work, even in ones ultimate reward.

She bled to death on the table with her hand in his. Even in death, he hadn't let go. And she could, she always could.

Some days he could pretend that it had never happened. But those damned gravestones would surface in his mind:

Laverne Marie Kosnoski
1940-1964

Angel
1964

Her arms wrapped around his neck, "You must let go. You must move on. You are blessed with the graces of love and talent; joy will come, I promise, I promise."

He wrapped his arms around her, even though he knew that the world saw him holding nothing.

"I love you."

Her hands rested upon his head, blessing him, gracing him the more, "I love you too, daddy."



The End!













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