Chapter Sixty-Two
"I'm glad we came," Kermit said quietly, staring out the plane window. Miss Piggy was next to him, holding his hand. Fozzie and Robin were across the aisle, getting surprisingly competitive with some game in a coloring book.
Miss Piggy squeezed his hand. "How's Craig doing?" she asked softly.
"He'll be alright." He nodded thoughtfully. "I hope he finds something to do here, with the Marines... I'm sure he will."
She nodded and looked at her lap. "...Ms. Geraldson looked like she was taking it alright," she said. "When Bob left..."
"Looks can be deceiving." He squeezed her hand and looked at her. "Keep in touch with her, okay, Piggy?" he whispered. "His first tour was hard enough on her."
"Of course, Kermie." She kissed his cheek and sighed. "Mon Capitan."
He turned to the window. "Lance Corporal, soon enough."
She gripped his hand a little tighter and looked across the aisle at Fozzie and Robin. Neither of them looked very happy with the way their game was going. She wondered who was winning.
"Who's idea was it, Piggy?" Kermit suddenly asked.
She turned to see that he was looking at her now. "Who's idea was what?"
He smiled faintly. "For you guys to play stalker," he said softly, mildly. He had intended to go to Sesame Street alone, and had been under the impression that he had done so until all the young faces had been too much and Fozzie had appeared at his side. When he had neared the breaking point again, Robin had suddenly been there, and the third time, Miss Piggy had come out of hiding. They'd all been keeping an eye on him the whole time.
She smiled. "Fozzie wanted to go with you," she said. "Moi didn't think you should know until you needed us."
He nodded. "Thanks," he said, and he looked out the window again. "...The adults could've helped, if they'd known..."
"They haven't seen, the way we have," she whispered. "You've been with
us the most, Kermie... so we understand best."
He nodded. "They did what they could, though." He absently picked her hand up and kissed it, and then held it in front of him, smiling at the diamond ring. "They're coming to the wedding, too."
"Of course!" she said brightly, and she shifted with a put-upon sigh. "
All of Sesame Street, and
all of the swamp... We'd better have an outdoor wedding, Kermie. There's not a church or hotel in the world big enough for all the guests."
He grinned. "And that's without even counting the paparazzi who'll wanna come." He settled against her and sighed. "I hope there aren't any new tadpoles right before the wedding. They'd have to stay in the pond and miss it, and their parents would stay behind, too."
She giggled, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed the top of his head. "If there
are new tadpoles, do we have to postpone the wedding until they can come?" she asked, mostly teasing.
"Oh, I dunno. Depends whose they are."
Across the aisle, Robin won the game with a victorious little shout, and Fozzie laughed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Muppets did not want January to end.
The first day of February would take their beloved frog away again. They really,
really wanted January to take its time, stick around, stretch as long as possible...
Of course, it did nothing of the sort.
Kermit was in daily contact with the Marines, ironing out all the details of his show. There was so much to arrange in so little time. He would have to send footage back to the States for it to be broadcast. It would all be digital, of course. The show would be terribly low-budget. His entire crew would consist of one camera man, with him at all times, and an editor he would probably never meet.
On the bright side, he would have more access to e-mail.
He called the swamp every day, too, slowly saying goodbye to each of his relatives, promising he would return, and keeping them informed on the details of the show and the military's television station.
Somehow, he still had the bulk of each day to himself. He raised the flag every morning and then spent every spare second with the Muppets, trying to make the most of their dwindling time. They went to the theater, the beach, parks, museums, clubs. They danced, they laughed, they sang...
And suddenly, the month was gone.
Scooter cringed as he changed the calendar that morning, refusing to look at the new set of weeks even as he unveiled them. He knew that the first day of the month—today—was circled in red pen. He didn't want to see it.
The breakfast table was very quiet that morning. Solemn. No one had much to say. Some stared down at their plates. Others held their heads high and stiff, trying to be supportive.
Outside, the flag was already flying high above the lawn.
Robin was silent as he slowly made his way down the stairs. He stopped on the middle step for an extra long time. Today was a special occasion—a grim one or not—so he was wearing his Frog Scout's uniform. He didn't think Uncle Kermit would want to be the only one in a uniform, anyway. He took a deep breath, stood up as straight as he could, and marched down the stairs.
When he was in the kitchen, he looked around until he saw Miss Piggy sitting at the table, stiff and a little pale. She hadn't slept. He quickly looked around to make sure Uncle Kermit wasn't in the room yet, and then he ran to her side and tugged on her arm. "Do you have it?" he whispered urgently.
She gave him a tight smile and quickly bent down to scoop the young frog into her lap. "Of course," she said softly, straightening his perfectly-straight uniform. "Do you want to give it to him, or should I?"
Robin frowned as he thought. "
You give it to him," he decided. "
I need to give him the picture." He importantly lifted his chin.
She smiled and pulled him into a fond, warm hug.
He hugged her, too. "And it'll help him, right?"
"Right," she whispered firmly. She hoped it was true.
"Good," Robin said, and he scurried out of her lap and into his chair for breakfast.
Rowlf leaned over to Miss Piggy. "
What’ll help him?" he whispered.
She gave him a tight smile that wasn't really a smile. "Something Robin and moi put together," she whispered. She wasn't terribly inclined to say any more than that.
Rowlf nodded and glanced towards the stairs. "...How long, do you think, until he comes down?"
She rubbed her arms and sighed. "He hadn't packed at all, last night..." She gave the dog a mournful look. "He wants to help, Rowlfie, but he doesn't want to put that uniform back on," she whispered.
He nodded. "That's what Fozzie said," he said glumly, and he poked his fork at the food on his plate. It was even harder than usual to have much of an appetite today.
Locked inside his bedroom, Kermit silently stared out the window, hugging his banjo in his lap and listening to the painfully quiet house.
He had hoped there would be chaos this morning.
With a heavy sigh, he turned and looked at the five pictures hanging on his wall. He didn't see them, though. In his mind, he saw the solemn breakfast table, just as clearly as if he'd been in the kitchen.
His thumb ran across the banjo strings, for the sake of the action. He heard it with his heart more than his ears—and not just because he didn't have ears. Then he stood and crossed the room. "See you later, old friend," he said as he returned the instrument to its place in the corner.
Then he turned to give his boots a particularly fierce frown. Flippers were never fond of footwear. He grudgingly shoved himself into the boots, laced them up, and tied them neat and tight. Now fully dressed in the uniform, he straightened up, took a deep breath, and faced the mirror.
The Eyes.
Those brown, blank Eyes. They filled with fear...
He shuddered and, with considerable difficulty, pushed The Eyes away for the tenth or eleventh time that day. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Whoever—whoever you are, or—were... I'm sorry." He clenched his hands into fists. "I'm coming to help now."
His cheeks were wet again. He wiped them dry, picked up his pack, and took a deep breath before he opened the bedroom door.
He paused on the stairs, absently rubbing the railing as he stared into the living room. No one was there, right now, but so many memories... So many holes in the walls.
He glanced at the stairs and realized he had stopped halfway down. He smiled. Then he shook his head to keep his cheeks from getting wet again, and he hurried the rest of the way down. He dropped his pack by the front door and went into the kitchen.
Everyone immediately looked at him. For them, for their sake, he somehow managed a smile. "Hi-ho, everyone." It wasn't quite the chipper greeting it usually was.
Fozzie was the first out of his seat. "Kermit, before you go—"
"I'm not leaving yet, Fozzie."
"But before you go, we—" The bear took off his hat. "We wanted to give you some things."
The frog's smile turned genuine. "Are they small things? I don't have room for much," he said mildly as he moved closer to his chair—and more importantly, his friend.
Fozzie nodded firmly. "They're little things," he said, and he glanced at the other Muppets. "Right, guys?" They nodded and mumbled their agreement.
"Oh good," Kermit said. "I happen to
believe in
little things."
"What about
big things?" Thog asked.
Kermit grinned. "Oh, I believe in big things, too," he said assuringly. "I just can't fit them in my pockets."
By this time, he was standing next to Fozzie, who put a hand on his shoulder as Scooter stood up.
"This is from all of us, Chief," the go-fer said, handing him a pocket-sized notebook. "The real present's inside..." He rubbed the back of his neck.
Kermit promptly opened to the first page of the notebook and gulped. A picture of the front of The Muppet Theater stared back at him. On the next page, a picture of the stage, and on the next, a picture of the seats. "Guys..."
"Keep going," Scooter quietly prompted.
Kermit glanced at him and turned the page. "Oh..." He kept turning the pages. On every page, another Muppet smiled back up at him beside his or her signature, many of them with a brief, encouraging note. "Oh... Thanks, guys," he said, tearing his eyes away to look at the
real Muppets, sitting at the table, watching him. There would be plenty of time to look at the book later. He pulled Scooter into a tight hug.
The go-fer hugged him with all of his might. "We love you, Chief," he whispered.
"I love you too, Scooter.
All of you." With some difficulty, he pulled out of the hug, struggling to keep his cheeks from getting wet again. He flipped back to the first page of the book and held up the picture of the theater for all of them to see. "Now don't let this thing fall to pieces while I'm gone," he teasingly chided.
"No promises, Green Stuff," Floyd called out among the strained chuckles.
Fozzie gently patted his friend's shoulder. "Kermit?" he said softly.
Kermit turned, and the bear pressed another small notebook into his hands—this one with a pen attached.
"Don't forget to write," Fozzie said.
Kermit smiled. "As if I
could—"
"Look inside, Kermit."
The frog obediently opened the notebook and was surprised to find it full of blank staff paper—for writing
music. He couldn't remember the last time he'd written a song. It had probably been over a year ago, maybe closer to two... Fozzie had apparently noticed. "Oh, Fozzie..."
Kermit fell into the tightest bear-hug he'd had in quite some time.
"Come home safe."
"I will. I promise."
They squeezed each other even tighter before they finally let go, and Kermit turned to find that Miss Piggy was now standing in front of him. He smiled and looked at his flippers. It was
especially hard to leave her.
She lightly pressed against him and opened her gloved palm between them, letting him see what she held.
"A locket?" He gave her a teasing smile, suspecting a trend in their gifts. "Do I have to look inside
this one, too?"
"Not yet," she said softly, fastening the chain around his neck. "Not until you
need it, Kermie. When you—" She met his eyes and pressed her hands against his shoulders. "When you question yourself, and who you
are, Kermie, just..." She lifted the little locket and tucked it into his shirt, out of sight. "Just look into your heart of gold."
He held her gaze for a long moment, and then firmly pulled her into a kiss that no one dared to tease or comment on. He held her tight, burying his face against her neck. "Piggy."
"Mon Capitan," she whimpered faintly, clutching him.
He pressed a kiss to her neck. "My fiancé," he whispered, and he pulled her back to stare into her eyes for a long moment.
She nodded, gave his shoulders a squeeze, and then smiled faintly as she turned him towards one last parting gift.
Kermit smiled then, too, immediately kneeling down to pull his nephew into a tight, warm hug—something he hadn't been able to do the last time he'd worn this uniform. "Hi-ho there," he whispered.
The little frog wrapped his arms tight around his uncle's neck. "I've got a present for you, too, Uncle Kermit."
"You do, huh," Kermit murmured, reluctantly releasing his nephew just enough for the frog to take something out of his pocket. "Nice uniform," he smiled, straightening the Frog Scout's cap.
Robin grinned up at him and handed him a small photograph. "You had it last time, too," he quietly explained.
Kermit smiled down at the picture of the two of them sharing a book and a chair. "I sure did," he murmured, and he pulled his nephew into another tight hug. "Thanks, Robin."
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