The effort of speaking had evidently drained her, for Piggy’s eyes drifted close and her head tipped back against the wall. Still, her words had effectively shattered the silent paralysis that had seized Gonzo. He darted forward to kneel in front of her hips, grasping her perpetually gloved hands.
“Scooter! Get over here fast!” Fozzie wailed, hovering anxiously and wringing his already battered hat.
“Oh, gosh, Miss Piggy! I’m so, so sorry!” Nearly always very high-strung, Gonzo’s hasty attempt to pull her to a sitting position caused her head to loll sharply back, eliciting a short, pained gasp.
“Ooh, don’t move her like that!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Rowlf’s hand came down firmly on Gonzo’s shoulder, a world of sympathy and stability offered in that simple touch.
No, no, get a grip.
To beg Piggy for forgiveness was what he wanted… not what she needed. He took an unsteady breath. “Never mind.” He addressed not Rowlf, but Piggy, who had gained an alarming pallor, almost grey from pain and blood loss. “No panic. No hysterics.” It was a firmly given promise. “Time enough for that later.”
“This is not good. This is so not good!”
“Easy, Rizzo.” Gonzo readjusted his grip on Piggy’s hands, stroking them through the pink silk. “Miss Piggy? Can you hear me?”
Rizzo danced uneasily in place, muttering to himself, but staying out of the way. Okay, buddy. You can panic for the both of us. “Look at me, Piggy. Look in my eyes, honey.” The endearment slipped out, unintentional and unimportant, surprisingly natural.
She was breathing in tense, slow puffs, struggle evident in each shaky exhalation. Her hands twitched involuntarily in Gonzo’s as she tipped her chin down slightly, meeting his eyes for an instant before her gaze slid away.
“Gonzo.” It was almost a question. He smiled at her with all the encouragement he could muster.
“The friendly neighbourhood weirdo, at your service.”
“He is the weirdo in your neighbourhood, in your neighbourhood… oh, sorry.” Rizzo dropped the song as fast as he’d picked it up. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“What…?” Piggy opened her eyes and tried to get a look at the rat without moving her head. After a second, her eyes fluttered closed again, whispered question dying with that weak breath. She flexed her hands in Gonzo’s grip and the trace of a frown touched her lips.
For an instant, he thought she’d pull away, but her hands relaxed. Might not be able to move that much. The thought alarmed him. Might not mind me holding her hands right now. That thought terrified him.
Scooter ducked in from the stage just then, peering around. “Somebody call me?”
“Up here, on the double!”
Obediently, he dashed up the stairs, doubtless spurred on by the urgency in Rowlf’s order. “Oh my goodness, it’s Miss Piggy!” The go-fer hesitated uncertainly before Rowlf reached over and pulled him to her side.
“You’ve got first-aid training, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah. Boss thought someone around here ought to, but-”
Gonzo was getting frustrated. “Get to the aid-firsting then! She’s a mess!” Piggy didn’t so much as twitch an ear at the comment.
“Should we call nine-one-one or just drive her to the hospital?”
