A Heart of Gold

[The Count]

*Hugs the chapter and leaves the last of the cinnamon pecan muffins for our dearest Toga.

 

[Muppetfan44]

Aww, that was a wonderful update!!!

So glad you posted more to my favorite story!! Love it that Kermit and the gang can cheer up the soldiers for at least a little while. And the tension back home...so real and very moving. Wonderful updates as always!

 

[redBoobergurl]

Perfect balance of the tension in America and some comic relief for our Frog and his soldiers. Love it! Those April Fools jokes are perfect, I think Gonzo's was my favorite!!

 

[theprawncracker]

I love that weirdo. And that frog. And that pig. And that other frog. Oh, and that bear. You're way too good. And such perfect timing with this... I love it. Thank you. More. Please. (I have a feeling that might work.)

 

[TogetherAgain]

Chapter Seventy-One

They had expected it to be bad.

They always expected it to be bad when they went into a town of any sort, and when they didn’t seem to run into any sort of trouble, it made them nervous. They were trained and prepared for anything from long-range missiles to hand-to-hand combat, from grenades to land mines.

But they had never been specifically trained in how to disarm a suicide bomber.

The man stood in the middle of the street with explosives strapped to his chest and a detonator in his hand. In his other hand, he held a small gun that he kept pressed into the veil of the woman he was holding hostage. The Marines had him surrounded, but if what he was telling Larsen was true, then that simply didn’t matter.

Larsen was holding both hands where the man could see them, gripping his radio a foot away from his face so that he could translate what the man was saying for the sake of everyone in an American uniform. The bomber was explaining that the explosives on his own body were only the tip of the iceberg, that the detonator would set off numerous other bombs throughout the town. No one would be spared … unless the Americans left without taking so much as a drop of water.

And if they did that, their death would be slower, but just as certain.

They consulted over the radio. Plank verified that there were numerous families cowering in their homes, all of whom could be in danger if the bomber was telling the truth. Geraldson muttered that it would be impossible to find and disarm all of the explosives—they would have to canvass every square inch of the town, and there wasn’t time.

Major D. paced the small second-story room that was functioning as a command center. Kermit had tucked himself just inside the window, where the bomber wouldn’t see him. Holt was in a back corner, keeping the camera trained on the window and the scene below.

Cogswell was crouched beneath the window, his eyes just barely peering out. He had the most training as a sniper, and so he kept his rifle carefully aimed, waiting for just the right moment. He cursed under his breath. “He’s keeping the woman in front of him. No clear shot. C’mon, c’mon, just move her a little bit to the left…”

Major D. rubbed the back of his neck. “Cogswell, you know I hate to say this, but if we have to choose between her and the whole town…”

“I know, sir.”

Kermit gulped. “There must be another way. What about—” He risked a quick glance out the window. “The detonator. Shoot the detonator.”

“Could still cause a reflex and make him pull the trigger. Or destroying the detonator could set off all the explosives anyway.” Major D. shook his head. “Too risky, Frog.”

“And if he drops it when he gets shot, all those things could happen anyway,” Kermit whispered.

“But it’s less likely,” the Major said.

“If he’d just move her a little bit…” Cogswell reached for the radio. “Larsen, try to shift his attention enough that he’ll move the lady.”

Larsen’s terse voice answered, “What do you think I’ve BEEN doing? I’m running out of ways to try and distract him.”

“No time.” Major D. hadn’t meant for the comment to be audible. He pushed his fingers over his scalp.

“If I can just get a better angle…” Cogswell shifted into a few different positions, trying to improve his view of the creep in the explosive vest and the captive. Kermit moved back to get out of the way.

But Cogswell shifted a little too much, pushed it a little too far, and the man in the street noticed. He took the gun from his captive’s throat just long enough to fire two shots at the window.

Cogswell let out an agonized shout as he fell back to the floor. He gripped his left shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers.

Kermit and Major D. were immediately on the floor beside him. “Take your hand off. Let me see. Lie still,” the Major ordered as he whipped open a first aid kit.

“Yes sir,” Cogswell gasped.

“Just focus on breathing, Cogswell. In and out,” Kermit said. Just the sight of the wound made his own scar tingle and sting. “Come on. Deep breaths.”

“Frog! Radio!” Major D. snapped.

“Yes sir!” Kermit scurried to the radio and grabbed it. “Cogswell’s down. Get a medic up here.”

“He’s taunting us. Gloating,” Larsen translated over the radio. “He’s trying to get under our skin.”

Major D. snapped his arm out. “Frog, gimme that.”

“Yes sir.”

“It sounds like he is under your skin, Larsen,” the Major barked into the radio. “Man up. Pull yourselves together, babies. We’ve still got a job to do.” He pushed the radio back to Kermit. “You can’t shoot like this, Cogswell. Too much blood.”

“Yes sir.” Cogswell slurred the words.

Major D. swore. “You pass out on me and I’ll punch your lights out, Cogswell. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“We’ve gotta get rid of that—” Major D’s choice of words for the bomber would have to be censored for the show. “Cogswell’s the only sniper, but we need a good shot—” His eyes snapped up and his face darkened. “Frog.”

Kermit shot to his flippers. Calm as he had seemed with Cogswell’s injury, he was shaking now. “Sir…”

“I know. You were promised you wouldn’t have to touch a gun.” Major D’s voice was soft, maybe even gentle, and that was more terrifying than a shout. “A lot of lives are at stake here, Frog. You know you’re the best shot in the unit.”

Kermit gulped and took half a step back. “That—that was before—my shoulder—” The scar felt like it was burning now.

“That’s healed now, or you wouldn’t be here. It won’t interfere with your aim.” The Major’s hands were firmly applying pressure to the bullet hole in Cogswell’s shoulder, but his eyes never wavered from Kermit’s face. “Frog.”

Another nervous gulp. Kermit couldn’t look away. He could see, could plainly see, that the Major knew exactly how much he was asking of the frog. No, not asking. Ordering.

And with every good reason.

So Kermit the Frog took a deep breath. With trembling hands, he picked up the radio. Other members of his unit were voicing concerns and brainstorming tactics with barely restrained panic. With another deep breath, he held down the button to transmit. “I’ll take care of it,” he whispered, his voice husky.

The radio fell silent. Kermit was stealthily settling into position beside the rifle when Geraldson’s voice responded. “Good hunting, Frog.”

Holt moved out of his corner and stood against the wall, barely hiding from the window. A medic quickly filled that corner while setting to work on Cogswell, but Holt kept the camera trained on Kermit.

Cogswell was right-handed. Kermit was left-handed. The frog’s hands were steady as he automatically, almost robotically made the necessary adjustments to the rifle. The rest of him was shaking. Holt could have painted a considerably different portrait of the frog just by zooming in on his hands, but he showed the whole picture.

Kermit peered through the scope. Then he breathed a deep sigh. “I’m shooting the detonator.”

“Frog, don’t!” Major D. ordered. “We talked about this. If that detonator breaks, it could—”

“Not this kind of detonator,” Kermit said firmly. “I know my explosives, sir.”

The Major didn’t argue. He also didn’t raise the question of how Kermit knew explosives so well. If he had, Kermit wouldn’t have been able to come up with an answer. He could not, on any level of comprehension, connect something like this with anything from home—not even Crazy Harry. This wasn’t insanity. This was something far, far different.

Kermit focused. Leveled his aim. Steadied his breathing.

And then, miraculously, the bomber shifted his own gun away from the hostage’s head.

Any home viewers who wondered why Kermit was such a surprisingly good shot had their answer then—a secret the Frog didn’t even know he had. Just a tiny fraction of a second before he pulled the trigger, his tongue flicked out at his target.

It took impeccable aim to catch a bug.

The bomber screamed when the detonator shattered out of his hand. His gun fired, and then his gun hand burst into pain and his gun was on the ground. He turned to run in the one direction where no Marines would block him, and pain shot through his leg. He dropped to his knees then and raised his hands in surrender.

Holt had lowered his camera just enough to stare at the frog before him.

Kermit backed away from the gun and stood up. His hand went to his chest, his fingers desperately tracing the golden locket hiding under his uniform. “He’s down,” he whispered.

The rest of the unit moved forward, quickly taking the man hostage. The woman he’d been threatening had run and collapsed by the side of the building.

Kermit stared at it all out the window. He was trembling faintly, his fingers desperately holding on to the locket under his uniform. What was it Miss Piggy had said? To open it, to look inside, when he questioned…

Then Larsen’s voice came over the radio. “Major, tell Frog this guy’s gonna be alright. Might need a new thumb, but I think he’s gonna be real chatty.”

His entire body went slack. He sank down to the floor and put his head between his knees, breathing deeply. He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew without looking that the hand belonged to Major D.

Holt kept the camera trained on Kermit, but he put his hand on the wall and slowly allowed himself to slide down to the floor as he began to absorb the events he had just filmed.

“Good job, Frog,” Major D. whispered. His voice was thick. “Saved a lot of lives.”

 

[theprawncracker]

Explosives... punch his lights out... tongue... GAH! You are... wow. Yeah, you are. Just wow. Awesome, fantastic, beautiful, terrible, wonderful... YOU.

 

[Muppetfan44]

Oh...my......gosh! Incredibly moving- second by second the tension was well, unbelievably intense! Definitely felt like I was there- oh what a horrible thing for Kermit to have to do,I was screaming when I was reading that Holt still had the camera on Kermit, I'm sure the last thing he would want would be for that to be on film---poor Kermit, so incredibly brave though....such a wonderful update!! Can't wait to read more!

 

[redBoobergurl]

Well then! That was definitely intense! I do like the logic behind why Kermit would be a good shot - the catching a fly thing. Great chapter.

 

[TogetherAgain]

Chapter Seventy-Two

Back in the safety of their base camp, Kermit sat at a table with his head in his hands. Several of his fellow Marines surrounded him, trying to give him the support he needed. Geraldson silently kept a hand on the frog’s back while Larsen gave optimistic predictions of how much information their new POW would give them and Pine emphasized how minimal the man’s wounds were.

“A prosthetic thumb, a couple months of rehab, and he won’t even notice anything was ever wrong,” he said. “That shot in the leg, Frog, that was brilliant. Barely nicked him. He only needed a Band-Aid. Just enough to convince him not to run.”

“Frog’s too forgiving,” Plank said, his eyes blank. “That creep deserved to die.”

“But instead, he gets to give us all sorts of information to help us stop the people he was working for,” Larsen said firmly.

“Boys, make some room,” Major D. said as he pushed his way to the center of the crowd. “Holt, turn that thing off. The whole world doesn’t need to know every detail.”

“Yes sir.” Holt obediently turned off the camera and let it hang by his side.

Major D. poured something into a very small cup that none of them had seen before. He set it down in front of Kermit. “Drink this,” he said as he sat. “I don’t have much of the stuff, so that’s all you get. But don’t tell anyone, or I could get in all sorts of trouble.”

Kermit stared at him, confused. “Sir?”

“Sometimes, you need something stronger than water,” the Major said matter-of-factly.

Kermit understood. He picked up the cup and sniffed. It was too strong for his liking, but he sipped at it anyway. “Thank you, sir,” he said softly.

Major D. patted the frog’s back. “You did good, Frog. But I know it doesn’t feel that way.”

Kermit shook his head. The Eyes had been watching him since the moment he had touched that gun.

“You won’t believe me if I say you’re a hero,” Major D. said.

“It’s true, though,” Larsen piped up. “You saved all of us, Frog. Saved that entire town.”

All of the men nodded firmly, though Plank closed his eyes to do so.

Kermit sipped at the tiny cup as if he hadn’t noticed them—but he had, of course. “I don’t like being a hero. Not this kind, anyway,” he whispered. He shook his head. “It just feels awful.”

“When you’re done drinking that, I want you to go see Cogswell,” Major D. said. “All of you boys, go see Cogswell. He’s gonna be just fine, but I’d wager he could use some company.”

“Yes sir,” several of them replied.

Later, as they were headed for the medical tent, Geraldson trailed behind the rest of the group to get the frog alone. “You fired three bullets today,” he said softly, “But your mind’s really on a different bullet, isn’t it?”

Kermit nodded. “Different target. Different gun. But it all feels the same.”

“It isn’t. You know it isn’t, Frog.” Geraldson’s face was firm. “If you hadn’t shot him, who knows how many lives would’ve been lost. Hundreds, easily.” He swallowed hard, carefully watching his friend. “…And if it weren’t for the bullet you’re thinking about, you wouldn’t have been here to do it. I wouldn’t have been here, either.”

Kermit stopped walking. “That little boy didn’t have to die, Bob,” he said, his voice harsh. “I could’ve … disabled him, like I did today. I could have shot him in the arm, or the leg, or…” And then The Eyes were there, struck with fear. And The Eyes slowly began to crystalize with a basic, dreaded understanding…

Geraldson grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard. “He still could have shot us. He would have. You did what you had to do, Kermit. Not once have you done anything with a gun that you didn’t have to do.”

Kermit’s breath caught, and he fell against his friend with a tight hug. Neither of them moved or spoke again until he had somehow managed to push The Eyes away.

“Plank is next,” Kermit whispered then. “You know it, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bob said. “Yeah, I know.”

“Major D. will put it off. He always does,” Kermit whispered.

“Yeah,” Bob said. “We’ll take care of him, Frog. As long as we can.”

That was all they needed to say. Pfc. Benjamin Plank was the only one in the unit who couldn’t see what was coming.

“Come on, Frog,” Bob said, releasing him from the hug. “Let’s go see Cogswell.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~​

The atmosphere around Cogswell’s bed was a welcome relief after the day they’d had. Painkillers were in short supply, so the men considered it their duty to joke around in attempt to make their comrade less miserable.

Cogswell was propped up with gauze over his shoulder and his arm in a sling. It was a familiar sight for Kermit—he’d been in the exact same position in this very tent.

“Hurts a whole lot, doesn’t it, Cogswell?” Kermit said. “There just aren’t any words for how much it hurts.”

Cogswell glanced at Holt before he answered. “I can think of quite a few words, Frog,” he said through clenched teeth, “But the censors wouldn’t like any of them.”

Kermit smirked. “Well, you always did have a dirtier mouth than me.”

“Not that your mouth was always so perfectly clean either, Frog,” Larsen said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I mean, there were a couple of weeks back in training…”

“Don’t say that in front of the camera!” Kermit said desperately. “They’ll hear about it back home, and they’ll never let me live it down!”

“Oh, I dunno, Frog,” Geraldson said. “I mean, we let you live it down.”

“Well—yeah, but that’s because you guys had to,” Kermit explained. “It was all your fault to begin with.”

Casper didn’t agree. “How the hel—”

“Camera!” Larsen scolded.

“—Heck was it our fault?”

“Casper, I think you just proved the frog’s point,” Pine chuckled.

“Exactly,” Kermit said smugly. “You’re all terrible influences.” With a glance at the quietest one among them, he added, “Especially Plank.”

Plank lifted his head and smirked. “That’s just how I grew up, Frog,” he said. “The only time I didn’t swear was when I was talkin’ to Mama.”

“Because she’d wash your mouth out with soap?” Larsen guessed.

“Oh no.” Plank’s face fell, and he shook his head. “She’d just hit me with whatever she had in her hand. Or at least wave it around at me. Like the time when that man came looking for money, and she chased him away—”

“With a vacuum cleaner,” everyone else around the bed recited, with the exception of Holt.

“We know, Plank. We’ve heard it a few times,” Pine said.

“But Holt hasn’t,” Kermit mused. “Have you?”

“No sir.”

“Don’t call me sir. And that means the camera hasn’t heard it either, right?”

“Yes si—er…” The men laughed while Holt tried and failed to choose another way to address the amphibian Lance Corporal.

“So Plank, why don’t you tell it again,” Kermit said. It wasn’t really for Holt or the at-home viewer’s sake that he wanted the tale repeated, but Plank enjoyed telling it, and maybe it would help Cogswell think about something other than the pain in his shoulder.

“Well—” But Plank stopped before he began, scowling. “I guess I have to explain who that man is, don’t I?”

“That’s simple,” Larsen said, and he looked at the camera. “That man is an individual who, by an unfortunate technicality, is genetically one of Plank’s parents.”

“…That’s a good way to put it,” Plank said.

Larsen shrugged. “I’ve explained something similar for some of my siblings.”

Holt pulled his head back from the camera and gave him a baffled look, which made Larsen laugh.

“I suppose the camera doesn’t understand that, either,” he said, and he winked at Holt before he frowned thoughtfully. “That, I’m not so good at explaining,” he sighed.

“Larsen has dozens of siblings,” Kermit gently explained to Holt and the camera, “Because his parents have taken in so many foster kids.” He turned to Larsen. “I know you don’t like that word for it, Guss, but it is the legal term.”

Larsen uneasily shrugged it off. “A lot of them stick around. We’re still their family. A real home for them. No matter what.”

“That’s all you need sometimes,” Emerson said. “Just someone to be there for you. To care.”

“To know that someone cares,” Plank said quietly. He was looking down now. His eyes were dark as his fingers traced the camouflage in his pants.

Kermit nudged him with his elbow. “You know it now, don’t you?”

Plank didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to, either. Looking the frog in the eyes was answer enough.

“Can we get back to the vacuum-waving?” Cogswell muttered, his eyes half-closed.

They chuckled, and Plank gave his most detailed description yet of how his mother had hefted a vacuum cleaner up and waved it around as easily as if it had been a broomstick, but with all the threat of a giant battle axe, dragging the cord behind as she had chased that man out the door. And they somehow managed to laugh again, not only at the tale that most of them knew painfully well, but also at how several of them somehow kept getting distracted by some pretty nurses.

It was late when they separated to their different tents to sleep. With the camera off for the night, Kermit quietly talked to Holt.

“What we were talking about before, about knowing that someone cares about you,” he said softly. “You know it, too … Don’t you?”

Holt frowned thoughtfully. “Sir?”

“You’re one of us,” Kermit explained, and he put a hand on his companion’s back. “Hide behind that camera all you want. We care about you. You’re one of us.”

Holt nodded and stared down at his feet as they walked. “Rough day today,” he whispered.

Kermit nodded. “One of the worst,” he agreed. His fingers rubbed over the bump under his uniform where his locket lay, still unopened.

As awful as the day had been, he didn’t need to look into that heart of gold just yet.

 

[Muppetfan44]

ooh! Great update! Surprised that Kermit didn't need to look into his locket yet, I definitely want to know what Piggy and Robin put inside it.

Glad everyone can cheer Cogswell up, not having painkillers would be terrible

SOOOO excited that you have been updating this story. Can't wait for more, as always!