The Imperfect Man, Part 9
By Missy


SERIES: The Imperfect Man
PART: 9 of 9
RATING: R (Some dark humor, cursing, Character death)
PAIRING(s): That's what I haven't decided yet (See notes)
DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai and FG (if the very act of reading this doesn't kill her) 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: Dark Humor
PAIRING: Lenny/Laverne/Carmine triangle (There! I settled on one all by myself!; this blank will be filled after this chapter is read)
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SETTING IN TIMELINE: California years, post "The Mummy's Bride".
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: When Laverne is given the impression that she's one week away from being killed, she makes one last, desperate search for love (And yes, this is a black comedy)

NOTES: And now we have the conclusion ;-) . I suggest that sensitive types not look this one over..

****

They tore the road up; as hard as they ran, they couldn't seem to outrun the cars bearing down on them.

"Stop, Carmine. Just stop. It's over." Laverne repeated.

And, abruptly, the engine died.

Died, and wouldn't restart.

The cars were a few miles away as they ran into the woods, taking only the passports and the cash with them. To the east, away from the sirens. There were train tracks before them; a train's whistle lowed mightily in the distance. The heavy brush provided a few minute's coverage; providing them perfect harbor to hide beneath something inside of the car.

There wasn't another choice. They bolted for the tracks.

Tires squealed in the distance. As the cars roared by, they lept into an open cart; First Lenny, Then Laverne, then Carmine.

His dancer's legs should have carried him to a graceful landing.

But something gave.

She held onto him, mightily, as strongly as she could. She held him strongly.

"No!" She said; her face crumbling beneath the weight of the moment.

Carmine shook his head, "Lemme go, Laverne."

"But..."

"There's No. Other. Way."

Voices shouted for them to show themselves, surrender, give up. There was less than a minute's coverage before they would be completely exposed

Suddenly, a mighty tug from behind sent them sprawling inside of the car. Lenny's strength had done it, and with a free hand he had shoved the door closed. Laverne would have marveled at his speed, were she not rushing for her life. They dove swiftly beneath a pile of burlap sacks, stacked in the corner.

The train whistled by. They could hear a confused clatter of cops.

But none entered the train.

Minutes later, Laverne rose from her hiding place. A smiling Lenny embraced her, kissing her noisily, thrilled. "We did it!" He enthused. "Carmine, you hear me? We did it!"

But Carmine didn't move.

Laverne crawled toward him, on his knees. The blood staining the car hadn't penetrated her consciousness.

The fact that he was completely headless finally did. And that, somehow, the sharp metal floor of the car and its door had served as a guillotine.

Her grief turned to sorrow; death had been prophesied; for her...not for him.

But death had visited, none the less.

***

She swept the floor of their apartment completely clean. Fonzie had surprised her by sending them a down-payment on a house.

Laverne smiled. Her new life as Margaret Charles wasn't half-bad. Neither was Lenny's as Donnie Charles.

She rested a hand on her swollen abdomen. No, it wasn't bad at all.

He came home from work with a bouquet of daisies and, with grave faces, set off to the cemetery.

They had buried Carmine in an unmarked grave, in the middle of a field. When winter came, it would be indistinguishable, better thaw way, to hide their trail.

Only one person from their old life knew where they were; Fonzie, who had enough secrets of his own to want to keep theirs pristine. Not even Shirley knew where her beloved Carmine had been buried.

Laverne lay her daisies upon the ground. She refused to feel guilty about her one-night stand with Carmine; Lenny never made her feel that way. But a door between them had been thrown open; the depth of her love for Lenny washing away the horror, the guilt.

Even now, after a summer of rainstorms, grass sprouted on the brown dirt.

Lenny squeezed her hand, "We'll always remember you, Carmine."

Laverne smiled. He hand fell once more upon her rounded belly.

"Yup. She squeezed Lenny's hand, "Forever."



FIN

Back To Part Eight