When the first faint little intake of breath escalated into hyperventilation, Rizzo courageously volunteered to go in search of Nurse Ratchet again.
“Hang tight, buddy. Give her a minute before you call in the cavalry. Miss Piggy? Are you okay?” Say something, scream, yell, knock us flat, just do something!
Piggy stared at her reflection, breathing far too rapidly, visibly fighting for control. “Okay?” Her voice cracked and they all winced collectively. With a shuddering, slow breath, she set the fragile mirror down on the end table with exaggerated care.
There were a few more deep, unsteady breaths as Piggy drew her legs up nearly to her chin under the blanket. Staring straight ahead, she moved to wrap her arms around her knees but Fozzie smoothly stretched out and took her hand. The contact startled Piggy and effectively stopped her withdrawal. “Oh, please don’t be too upset, Miss Piggy. We’re all just so glad that you’re going to be okay.” He smiled at her with such sincerity that she turned her head away, blinking rapidly. Fozzie soundlessly stroked a thumb across her hand and little by little, Piggy’s legs began sliding away from her chest.
Rizzo and Gonzo stayed very still, both unwilling to break the intensity of Fozzie and Piggy’s wordless communication. Our stand-up bear missed out on a career in one of the helping professions, Gonzo mused, he’s got an incredible instinct for seeing into hearts.
When she finally, cautiously turned large clear eyes back to Fozzie, Piggy was steadier, more collected, even managing a faint smile. The battered pig maneuvered herself into awkwardly into a cross-legged position without letting go of his hand.
“Well, I-, uh, that’s quite... um....” She let out a quiet laugh, forced and nervous. “I really got clocked, didn’t I?”
Rizzo shook his head ruefully. “Oy, did you ever. You weren’t so much clocked as Big Ben’d.” Piggy frowned at the rat, unimpressed with his irreverance.
Gonzo touched his friend on the shoulder. “Rizzo, why don’t you go find a phone and let everyone at the theatre know Piggy’s gonna be alright. They’ll be waiting for news.”
“Ah, no problem, buddy, I’m on it.” Rizzo darted out the door, but poked his head back in a second later. “Glad you’re okay, princess. Um... yeah.” Gonzo grinned weakly at his friend’s discomfiture once Rizzo had run off again.
“So, you were all really... worried about me?” She smiled, almost shyly at the thought, but her smile faded quickly into a troubled frown.
“Oh, of course, Miss Piggy! That crash was just so scary, and we didn’t even realise what happened to you at first. It is very lucky that no one else was really hurt and that you are going to be fine. Even the doctor said it could have been so much worse!”
“Yes. I suppose we are all very fortunate.” Piggy glanced at Gonzo, then stared, eyes widening. What is she looking at? “Why, Gonzo, you’re crying.” Guilt and grief had waited long enough for expression, and Gonzo was surprised to find the tears gathering in his eyes. He hadn’t actually wept in years.
“Oh, I didn’t realise...” He wiped the droplets away automatically, but it was not so easy to get rid of the remorse. Gonzo bit his lip then took a shuddering breath. “Oh, Piggy, I, I’m just so sorry. It was all my fault. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d been....” He couldn’t continue.
Piggy looked at him hard then, searchingly, and Gonzo felt terribly exposed, but then she shrugged easily. “It’s fine, Gonzo. It’s okay.” There was no hint of insincerity in her softly spoken words, but somehow he did not feel totally absolved.
“I never meant to hurt you, or anyone.”
“I know,” she murmured, no longer really looking at him. Regret hit him all over again. In truth, it would have been easier for him if she’d been angry.
