A Pig Out of Water

Okay, whew, it's been a long day. How nice to come back to stories!

Ooh, I hate that feeling! I love that Kermit mentioned he doesn't have ears! It's a good thing that he picked up that little trick though.

"Sun-drenched ground" Nice description!

Oh Kermit, he who hesitates loses the pig, silly. Really though, he's lucky she's so steadfast in her infatuation or she'd have been off and gone to greener (ahem) pastures long ago. I like him playing the suitor though, it's so cute!

Then how did he know? Seriously, I like that line a lot.

Ooh, I'm intrigued. I really don't know how to interpret Piggy there but I sure can picture Kermit's reaction.

I don't know whether to feel sorry for him or a bit gleeful at the turning of tables. I'll go with a bit of both.

It opens a big nasty fight scene, but I can't help but laugh at that line! Poor Piggy. I mean, sure it sounds great being a diva, but there's an awful lot of pressure... and as for her upset at not meeting Kermit's expectations, well, I've often wondered at how things would go if she ever fell apart from all that pressure and frustration. You handled that scene beautifully, Ru.

I skirted around this in my previous post, but I love how much this scene reflects/foreshadows the argument in GMC.

So much to love about this! Kermit feeling guilty, not wanting her to cry. Piggy hating that she doesn't find it easy, and actually admitting that! Great stuff!

Sigh... and even when she's upset with him, she still feels "the invisible pull". Gorgeous.

Oh my. See how silly you are, Kermit? And you're being all jealous and thinking she's not interested... ergh, I love the frog, but I'd like to shake some sense into him sometimes. Naturally, the kiss melted me into a puddle, comme toujours.

They just can't get in sync on this thing can they? It's okay though, I love all the melodrama of it. Beautiful writing.

At least he knows it. Great line there, Ruahnna. Connects so wonderfully with swimming and the swamp memories... lovely.

Huggles, this'll probably be my last review for a while!
Leyla

Ooh, Leyla, honey--thanks for the nice review of the previous section. I was apparently posting at the same time you were! Have a great time at your French experience!
This one has taken a surprisingly complex turn, but don't despair--it's going to be okay at the end. Don't feel too sorry for Kermit. Much as I adore him, he can be a real pain. (You'll notice at the end of the "kissing through the mesh" scene that Piggy says "I love you, Rosenthal" but Kermit's script is apparently mum on the subject.)

<Falls over>

My gosh, Ruahnna... I've just gotta say, I LOVE how you did that scene... And I'm really, truly, amazed at... well, at how different it is from how I intend to approach it when I get there in Flippersteps, and yet how equally truthful it is. Wow. I'm just... wow. That's impressive. I really love this.

MORE PLEASE!

So glad you liked it--can't wait to see what you do. (I am SO behind on my reading....)

...Yes... And I would hate for you to fall behind on your writing, too...

And, to be honest, I can't wait to see what I do, either. Well, I mean, I kind of know what I'm going to do, but I haven't really... seen it yet... if that makes any sense at all... But then why make sense when it's more profitable to make dollars?

MORE PLEASE!

This....is.....GREAT!

In for a tadpole....

When several moments had passed, Fozzie came over and sat down beside Piggy on the park bench. She had not moved, but she turned and looked at him when he sat down.
Fozzie took his hat off hastily and held his hands up in the air. “No hitting! I’m the bear, not the frog.” He gave her a lop-sided grin.
It was such a dumb joke, and they had darn near beaten the poor thing to death during filming…. In spite of herself, Piggy smiled faintly and Fozzie dared to scoot a little closer.
“I’m sorry you’re having such a rough day,” Fozzie said gently. His eyes were kind, his expression earnest, and Piggy appreciated the effort he was making.
“Yes,” she agreed. “This is not the best day I’ve had in a while.”
“You’re doing so many things,” Fozzie continued. “I have trouble concentrating on what I’m doing while I’m doing it. I don’t know how you’re doing everything you’re doing.”
“Out of necessity,” Piggy joked, an old Ethel Merman line, and Fozzie caught it and said “Wah! Good one!” He leaned forward, giving Piggy a big-eyed look of admiration.
“And you are doing everything so well.”
Piggy eyed Fozzie suspiciously. “Fozzie—did Kermit send you over here to say those things?”
“No!” Fozzie looked shocked. He lacked the sophistication to lie effectively, so Piggy took him at face value. He squirmed for a moment, however, then finally said, “But that is what I’ve been hearing every single day we’ve been filming.”
Surprise made Piggy turn toward Fozzie on the bench, her expression inquisitive. “From Kermit?”
“Um hm,” Fozzie said hastily. “We’re sharing a suite at the hotel, you know. You’re all Kermit talks about when he’s, um, there.” He had almost said something he hadn’t meant to—something that worried him. Kermit had been getting up early and leaving—ostensibly for the set, but on at least two occasions Fozzie had arrived earlier than usual on the set and seen Kermit arrive after him. Also, Kermit always stayed after, but there were times when Fozzie had called the set and been told by the watchman that Kermit had been gone some time—and yet was not home. Fozzie could not imagine Kermit was up to anything he ought not to be, but he did not know what to think instead. Wanting to reassure her—wanting to reassure himself—Fozzie leaned forward and took her hand, patting it softly. “Piggy, Kermit didn’t mean—“
“Fozzie, don’t. You’re very sweet, but I—I don’t want to talk about this. I’m very tired, Fozzie. Could you—I mean, would you drive me back to my hotel?”
“Sure, Miss Piggy.” He took her hand and helped her up the bank.

Standing near the gazebo, Kermit watched them go, torn between gratefulness and misery. Good ol’ Fozzie, Kermit thought with a sigh. I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like him. Fozzie handed Piggy into one of the studio cars and shut her door before walking around to the driver’s side and getting in. Kermit watched the car until it disappeared around the curve of the lake, but Piggy’s profile never changed. She didn’t look back—not even once.
“Um, Kermit—“ Scooter said, and Kermit knew by the sound of his voice that there was no more time for selfish indulgence. It was time to be the director again. He turned and met Scooter’s anxious eyes.
“Um, I hate to bother you….” Scooter began uncomfortably.
Kermit put his hand on Scooter’s arm. “Please,” he said, his eyes wistful. “I could use a distraction.”

Kermit was exhausted when the filming day finally ended. Although he’d spent a good portion of the day climbing in and out of a box ostensibly floating in the water, he found himself veering not for the hotel—where he would just have to endure the annoyed, pitying or just plain curious stares of all his friends—but for the pool where he had lately spent such sweet time with Piggy.
The night was warm and still, and Kermit shucked off his outer garments and dove straight in. The water welcomed him, as it always did, with the buoyant promise of peacefulness, but Kermit was anything but peaceful tonight. He swam—not with lazy paddling flippers, but with grim, determined strokes that pierced the water. The sky, which had been so full of stars a few nights ago, was overcast except for a palely shimmering moon, whose glow illuminated the water only faintly. Back and forth, back and forth, Kermit swam the length of the pool, pushing himself as he had pushed her, forcing himself to reach, to extend. Finally, when his arms and legs felt shaky and his lungs actually hurt, Kermit hauled himself out of the water and began to towel off.
The gate opened soundlessly so it wasn’t the noise. Some sixth sense—some awareness of her—alerted him, and he turned in time to see her step through. She was wearing street clothes, however—not her bathing suit—and would not look directly at him.
Kermit toweled off hastily but did not approach her, letting her know she could have space if she needed it. Breathlessly he waited for her to speak, to act, to look at him. At last, she sat on one of the stone benches scattered around the edge of the pool. There was plenty of room left on the bench, and she indicated by her attitude that he was welcome to sit. He sat.
“I’m sorry,” Piggy said quietly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I said some things I shouldn’t—some things I didn’t mean.” And some I did. “Piggy, please don’t apologize. I feel like a heel. I said some things today I didn’t mean, that I never should have said. I—I acted terrible, and I’m really sorry. Please say—“
“Kermit, don’t,” Piggy said, her voice low. Kermit couldn’t see her eyes but he felt like she was crying, or close to it.
“Piggy—“ He reached out tentatively, wanting to take her hand, but she shrank away from him. It would be a long time before they could put this afternoon behind them. Kermit saw it and felt his heart clench in his chest, but he plunged on determinedly. “I put a scene in a movie—a stupid scene in a movie—above your well-being. I’ve been pushing you too hard.”
“You’ve been working hard, too,” Piggy objected.
If anything, her defense of his actions made him more ashamed. “My motivation was selfish—I wanted something.”
“I wanted something, too,” Piggy said, then blushed and fell silent. “I wanted to do the scene,” she said distinctly. She looked out, away from him. “I want to do the scene.”
“Piggy, no—you’ve got too much to think about. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I could have said no. I didn’t.”
Kermit laughed without mirth. “That’s my fault. I’m so used to you being, well, perfect. I’m used to you being able to do anything. Just because I asked you. I-I took advantage, Piggy.”
“No—“
“I did. And I’m really sorry.”
Piggy looked up at him suddenly. Her face was earnest, but her eyes were sad. “Kermit,” she said urgently. “I like you. I like you a lot.” There had been a time when Piggy had openly professed her undying passion for him in front of crowds of friends and acquaintances, but this simple admission somehow moved him more than all of those protestations of love. Kermit smiled and reached again for her hand. This time, after the slightest of hesitations, she let him take it between his own.
“I like you too, Piggy.”
“I think you got the wrong idea the other day about me and…Charlie and the, the picnic. He’s very sweet but he’s not, I mean, I don’t—“ She looked at the bench, blushing furiously. “I don’t feel that way about Charlie. It’s just, I wanted to go on a picnic.” He face set in a sweet, pouty line that make Kermit want to snatch her up and kiss her. “Shouldn’t someone want to take me on a picnic?”
Kermit smiled, his expression rueful. “Someone did,” he admitted. “Only he was too preoccupied to make a proper invitation.”
“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Piggy said, embarrassed. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just I—I don’t know if I can even explain it. It just seemed so, well, romantic and everything, and I—I wanted someone to want to take me out, to want to be with me, so I—“
“I want to be with you, Piggy.” For a moment, Kermit sat stock-still, his mind reeling. Had he said that? Had he said that out loud? He had—he had said that out loud, and if he needed any confirmation all he had to do was look at Piggy’s radiant and astonished face.
“Kermit?”
In for a tadpole, in for a frog….
“Piggy, look—I know I’m not a very impulsive kind of guy.”
Piggy made a small noise that might have been a snort, but when he shot her a look her face was composed.
“I was always taught to look before I leap. Sometimes, when I’m with you, I can’t think about where I’m going to land. Sometimes, I don’t think I ever will land.” Piggy swallowed hard. For a guy who wasn’t usually demonstrative, Kermit was doing pretty good. “I just, it’s just that I can’t handle one more distraction right now. I’m having a hard time just doing the work. I can’t do my best if I’m thinking about you all the time.”
“About me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Yep. That’s why I was such an idiot this afternoon. I was jealous and miserable and—“
Piggy leaned forward and silenced him with her hand, not her lips. Kermit was momentarily disappointed, but her hand on his cheek was satiny soft and it felt nice.
“Oh, Kermit—I, I’m so glad to hear you say that—all of that.” She pulled her hand away from his cheek, blushing a little. "Sometime, it’s hard to work with you when we’re dating.” She shot him a daring look from under veiled lashes. “I like to give things that are important to me my undivided attention.”
Kermit made a little “hm?” of interest that caused her to scoot back on the bench in alarm, but he subsided and reached for her hand again.
“But I can’t do all this—the swimming, the dancing, the motorcycle scene—I just can’t do all of that if I’m worrying about us.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Kermit began, but Piggy shushed him.
“I need you to be my director, Kermit. And my coach. And my friend. I need your help. I want to make this movie—your movie—“
“Our movie,” Kermit insisted.
“Our movie,” Piggy said obediently. “I want it to be the best I can make it, but I don’t think we can do that while we’re, um, trying to work out whatever this thing is between us.”
She fell silent, and they gazed at each other for a long moment. At last, Kermit sighed.
“I am your friend, Piggy, and I will be your coach—that is, if you’ll still—“
“I will. I want to. I didn’t come dressed for it tonight, but—“
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow is fine.”
“Tomorrow morning, then.”
They sat for a moment longer, eyes still locked. Kermit leaned forward, brought his voice down to a whisper.
“Do you think maybe two friends could share a kiss—you know, seal the bargain and everything?” he asked hopefully. Piggy looked at him gravely, withdrawing her hand.
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t think so.”
“Piggy—“
Piggy stood. Her eyes were luminous, her smile a mona-lisa smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Coach,” she said gently, and left him again.

Wow...so beautiful! I loved the thing with Fozzie!! That was just so awesome!!!!

Very good friends

Kermit inserted his key into the hotel door and eased into the room. Frogs have excellent night vision, and he did not need much light to navigate the Spartan room that he and Fozzie were sharing. Yes—he could have had his own room—Piggy had her own suite—but Fozzie was happier with a room-mate, and Kermit was happy to have Fozzie contentedly underfoot. Although Kermit might have wished for more privacy, he was about to discover the true value of having a stalwart friend as a room-mate. He had just slipped beneath the sheets when the nightstand light came on, and Kermit blinked a little in surprise. Fozzie was sitting on the edge of the other twin bed, looking at Kermit with a miserable expression on his face.
“Fozzie?”
Fozzie didn’t say anything for a moment, but he was obviously upset.
“Fozzie—is everything okay?”
“No!” Fozzie burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. “What are you doing? Where are you going every morning and night? Oh Kermit,Kermit—PLEASE tell me you are not making a mess out of everything!”
For a moment, Kermit was too astonished to say anything, then he began to stammer out a prefabricated response.
“Nothing, Fozzie, I mean, I’m just working—”
“You’re going out to meet someone—I know you are, and today you and Piggy had such an awful fight. I’m worried for you Kermit—you are going to mess up everything.” He subsided, but only for a second. “And she is going to KILL YOU.”
His alarm was so genuine, so palpable that—in spite of his best efforts—Kermit began to smile.
“This is not funny!” Fozzie cried. He sprang out of bed and clasped Kermit’s shoulders. “Kermit—this is serious!”
Kermit grasped Fozzie’s arms firmly.
“Fozzie—it’s okay.”
“It is NOT!”
With effort, Kermit caught Fozzie’s wild gaze and held it for a moment until Fozzie stopped panting and looked at him. “Fozzie—it’s okay. I’ve been with Piggy.”
“Piggy?” Fozzie had to think, to process a moment. When the light dawned, Fozzie blushed furiously—Kermit couldn’t see it beneath his fur, but he felt the wave of heat as the blood surged to Fozzie’s cheeks. “Oh,” Fozzie said uncomfortably. “Well, if you’ve been with Piggy, then—“ Another light dawned, and Fozzie looked scandalized. “Kermit!”
It was Kermit’s turn to blush. “No, Fozzie—that’s not what I, I mean, we aren’t, um—I’ve been teaching her to swim.” Sorry Piggy, Kermit thought. I can’t protect your secret at the cost of your reputation.
“Swim?” Fozzie stared again, uncomprehending. “But Piggy already knows how to swim.”
“That’s just it,” Kermit said. “She doesn’t. Well, I mean, she does now, but we’re still working on it.”
“So you’ve been…swimming.”
“Um hum.”
“Every morning and evening?”
“Yes.”
“And Piggy is just learning.”
“Yes—but she’s doing terrific. You ought to see her, Fozzie—she’s doing great.”
Fozzie gave him a deeply suspicious look. Something was wrong here. The last time he’d seen Kermit he had been one unhappy amphibian. Now he sounded content—almost happy.
“Where have you been just now?”
Kermit began to smile again. “I’ve been with Piggy.”
Fozzie shook his head doggedly. “She was very mad at you.” Suddenly, he covered his mouth with both hands. “You’ve been coaching her?”
“Yes,” Kermit repeated patiently.
Fozzie gave him the most parental, disapproving look he could give. “No wonder she was mad at you.”
Kermit blushed again. “Yes,” he agreed, “but we—we fixed it Fozzie. Piggy and I made up.”
Fozzie face overspread with joy. “Really really?”
“Really.”
“So you two are back together?”
Kermit squirmed. How to explain something he barely understood himself. “No, I mean, yes, I mean—yes, we’re together. We’re always going to be together, Fozzie. But no—right now, we’re not dating. We both thought—that is, we thought it might be better for both of us if we could just be good friends for a while.” Very good friends, his subconscious insisted. Very, very good friends.
For a moment, Fozzie searched his face. At last, Fozzie smiled, apparently satisfied with what he saw there. “Well, good,” he said firmly. “And you’re not going to argue anymore?”
Kermit had the good sense to know when to hedge his bets. “Let’s just say we’re going to try.”

Aw....that's just so CUTE!!!! =^-^= I love the big ol' teddy bear, Fozzie!! Aw, this is just so undeniablely cute, Ru!

Hmmm...how long before Fozzie spills the beans on Piggy's secret and gets the chop?

Falling all over again

The effort Piggy put into practice the following morning made everything she’d done up until then look like a cakewalk. Kermit coaxed, nodded and smiled, thrilled with her newfound poise and determination. Occasionally, he commented on her form, and sometime made slight adjustments to her hand positioning, but inside he was elated. Her backstroke was impeccable, and she had learned to flip and cavort under water without becoming disoriented or taking on more water than a sinking steamer. One thing, however, remained to be conquered, and they worked toward it with grim determination: Piggy could not yet dive.
For the final scene of the water ballet, Piggy would not only have to dive, but dive from a tall pedestal wearing a headpiece that looked like something Ziegfield would have created for Independence Day Follies. Piggy had managed to do a passable head-first fall into the water from the mid-way diving board, but something about the height of the high-dive was throwing her. After a handful of increasingly unsteady tries, Piggy shook her head and climbed out of the pool.
“I’m all in,” she said, and some of her chipper mood seemed to dissipate. “I’ve got to get to the studio early today—they’re going to do a fortifying treatment on my hair.” She looked at Kermit, and her eyes looked worried. “I’m worried about the dive.”
“You’re going to get it,” Kermit insisted, and at her worried look, added quickly, “and if you don’t, we can splice the scene. Piggy, you’re doing okay with the diving—it’s the height that’s bothering you.”
Piggy nodded quickly. “It’s different up there—I feel all alone and vulnerable. I hope….” She trailed off, looking worried again, but Kermit patted her on the shoulder.
“Piggy—you’re doing fantastic. You’ve come so far in such a short time. I know you can do this.”
Piggy looked up gratefully. “I want to,” she said fervently.
Kermit smiled and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey—what the lady wants, the lady gets.”
Piggy gave an unladylike snort, but Kermit’s teasing had had the desired effect. She was smiling, and she continued to smile as she gathered her things and made for the gate.

Filming was good that day. Although everyone walked on eggshells around Kermit and Piggy, their long-time friends couldn’t help but notice that they did not seemed the least bit discomfited to be working in close proximity to each other. They were caught more than once smiling shyly at each other while they talked over last-minute staging for the day’s shoot.
Kermit kept his, um, chin up and ignored the whispered speculation on why he was still breathing, letting the work carry him forward. He did have the good sense to have a lovely box lunch sent to Piggy’s dressing room, and the even greater sense to not attempt to join her, letting her know that he would respect her space, her professionalism and her person while she was under so much stress. When they had met after break to finish filming the “Highbrow Street” scene, she had smiled her thanks at him briefly, and played her scenes with almost perfect comic timing.
If Kermit and Piggy were complacent that day, Fozzie was positively beaming. He was watching from the sidelines when Rowlf came up, and they stood in companionable silence as Piggy led Kermit through the elaborate sets of “Highbrow Street.” When the red light went off, Rowlf shook his head slowly.
“Go figure,” he said to Fozzie. “Yesterday, I thought we were going to have a dead duck of a movie on our hands—today, they’re all lovey-dovey.”
“Oh no,” Fozzie said sagely. “They’re not lovey-dovey.”
“Look pretty lovey-dovey to me,” Rowlf said mildly, not arguing—just observing.
“I guess so,” Fozzie conceded, “to an untrained eye.” He gave Rowlf a knowing smile. “They’re getting along better because they aren’t dating anymore.”
“Oh. Well,” Rowlf said philosophically. “That always worked for me.”

Piggy was already in the pool when Kermit arrived, warming up with some quick laps. She wore her swim cap again to protect her newly treated locks, and they set to work immediately with little chit-chat. After a grueling hour, Kermit called a halt, offering her a hand up out of the pool.
“Let’s call it,” he said gently. “You’ve improved a lot just tonight, but it’s been a long day. We’ve got tomorrow.”
“And only one more day after that,” Piggy said, and her eyes were worried again. “Oh, Kermit, I—“ She did not know what to say, but Kermit nodded his understanding.
“Sufficient unto the day—“ he began.
“—is the evil thereof,” Piggy finished with a wry smile. “Okay. I’m going home to eat a cheesecake and catch some zzzzs.”
“Speaking of cheesecake…” Kermit began, but Piggy swung around and fixed him with a look. He subsided immediately, but was not successful in wiping the smile off his face. Piggy shook her head in exasperation, smiling again, and she looked a little less worried as she left.

Their morning practice had to be abandoned. Kermit was needed at the set to deal with a scheduling conflict and neither of them felt comfortable enough with Piggy swimming alone to want to push it. She had the luxury of a second cup of tea and a fresh fruit plate before the studio limo picked her up, and—once on the set, resolved to not think once about swimming until the filming day was over.
The evening air was soft, the night unusually still, and Piggy did her warming laps quickly, impatiently, while Kermit stood waist-high in the water and watched her. Piggy swam over to the ladder and pulled herself out. She looked at Kermit once, her face set, and climbed the ladder to the high dive.
Kermit could see her trembling a little on the board, imagined he could hear the muffled pounding of her heart. She stepped to the edge of the board, toes gripping, then the muscles in her sturdy legs bunched and she propelled herself up, began to go down. Something was amiss, however, and her center was off. She was falling, not diving, streaking toward the surface of the pool.
She hit the water hard. Frogs are usually graceful in the water, but there was nothing graceful about the way Kermit scrambled toward her, his heart in his throat. He hauled her up sputtering and carried her toward the shallow end. Before he could reach the shallows, Piggy began to struggle. Having little choice, Kermit released her. “Piggy…?”
Gonzo had, on more than one occasion, used the phrase “mad as a wet hen,” but a damp chicken had nothing on Piggy. There was fury in her face, pure and unadulterated. She stomped out of the water without acknowledging Kermit and started for the diving board ladder.
The next dive was not much better, but she did not hit the water as hard. The third and fourth were nothing to write home about, but they were head-and-shoulders over her first faltering attempts. Somewhere around her 12th dive, Piggy hit her groove. She pierced the water gracefully and came up out of the water ecstatic. Her 13th, 14th and 15th dive mirrored the perfection of her form.
Kermit let out a whoop and waded toward her, elated at her progress. He was dumbfounded when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him—kissed him with heart and soul and relief and the joy of living. Kermit didn’t remember what he’d been about to say, but it no longer seemed important. As if realizing the effect she was having on him, Piggy dropped her arms with a little laugh and stepped back.
“That was wonderful, Piggy!” Kermit gushed. “That was absolutely amazing!’
Piggy put one hand on her ample hip and batted her eyes at him in mock flirtatiousness. “I know that,” she quipped. “But how was my diving?”
Kermit laughed out loud. “Just great, Piggy,” he said softly. “You’re really going to wow them now.”

This chapter deserves a Woot. Woot!

Woot?

Gee, thanks. Is that, like, a sheep thing? Seriously--glad you enjoyed it. More surprises to come.

Wow, simply amazing, Ru!! I loved this chapter so much! Can't wait for more!

I love this! Piggy sure is determined and Kermit's trying so hard to teach her! This is just so cute, I can't wait to read what's next.

No, it's a So-Cal thing.

Wow, all these chapters have been so great! I'm glad that Kermit and Piggy are finally on the same page now, and that last bit with the kiss and the diving were funny!
Did I mention that your writing just blows me away? Your diction and style are just so perfect! Oh, and you're doing something I never thought you could; you're warming me up to Kermie/Piggy romance!

Wow!! I'm really starting to like this story more and more! It's makes me all warm and fuzzy inside...not to mention that it's sheer brilliance! Your word choice is really just so awesome, and it paints such a beautiful and intricate picture of everything that you describe. I don't know, there's no words to describe how beautiful it is.. oh, I need a tissue. But seriously, you're doing a beautiful job! I can't wait to read more!

“Gosh, Miss Piggy,” Fozzie exclaimed, wheeling his bicycle over to where she stood with hers. “You’re all dressed up. You look nice.” All around them, people were paired with various cycles, waiting for the signal to mount. The bike path had been reserved for them that morning, and they were hoping to have this footage completed before the morning sun became too warm.
“Thank you, Fozzie,” Piggy said, fluffing the layers of her skirt at little. “Blame it on wardrobe.” Everyone else seemed appropriately attired for bicycle riding, but Piggy’s ladylike dress seemed more ornamental than athletic. And the lilac 2½-inch pumps were killing her feet.
Fozzie gave her a look. “Ahh--but wardrobe is only responsible for the dress.”
In spite of her aching feet, Piggy smiled. When you didn’t feel like throttling him, Fozzie could be very sweet, and he had made a point of being nice to her since her argument with Kermit. She stepped carefully out of her pumps to stand flat-footed on the grass. “I would kill for some bike shorts and a pair of tennis shoes.”
“Our insurance agent would never approve it” Kermit said, entering the conversation as he joined them, pushing his bicycle along. Gonzo trailed Kermit, pushing a unicycle that looked like a disaster waiting to happen. As he came to a stop, two washers and a long screw fell from underneath the seat onto the pavement, and Gonzo pocketed them with a surprising lack of curiosity.
Piggy looked at Kermit suspiciously.
“Would never approve what?” she demanded.
Kermit looked at her in surprise, but there was mischief in his eyes. “Piggy, if we put you on a bicycle in a pair a bike shorts, we’d have a 12-car pile-up on the freeway for sure.”
Piggy blushed furiously and gave him a look of pleasure and annoyance.
“Yeah,” Gonzo agreed, “but think of the great footage!”
“Cretin,” she muttered, but she did not object when Kermit offered his arm to her so she could step back into her shoes. Kermit might have further bedeviled her, but Scooter—who was also in this shot—was desperately trying to round everybody up around the curve of the trail so they could begin shooting. The hubbub dulled to a roar and everybody mounted their cycles and faced forward. Kermit had been eying Gonzo’s decrepit unicycle with alarm—speaking of insurance!—but his concern was unnecessary. Before Gonzo could take his place in the line-up, the lone wheel liberated itself from Gonzo’s barely-held-together contraption and rolled serenely into the water. Disappointed, but philosophical, Gonzo accepted a surrogate cycle and took his place among the others. After a moment’s consultation with the cameramen, Scooter trotted over to his own metal steed and hopped on. Ready or not….

“No really, I’m okay. It’s just a little scrape,” Kermit insisted. “I’ll put a little ice on it and I’m sure it will be just—Ow! Ow ow ow,” Kermit said in spite of himself. The other stunts had gone according to plan, but when he had tried to drop gracefully from the tree branch into a handstand on Piggy’s handlebars, his balance had been off. He’d slipped and crashed unceremoniously to the ground, whacking his left arm solidly against the handlebars.
He gasped as the set nurse gingerly moved his arm. She asked him to wiggle his fingers—which he did—then looked up at him grimly. “It’s not broken,” she said finally, “but I don’t think you’ll be doing any more hand-stands for a while.” She explored the arm bone gingerly with practiced hands, her eyes distracted. “Well, you won’t have to have a cast, but we need to put it in a sling.”
Kermit’s head whipped around and he looked to Scooter.
“Did we—did we get it on film?”
Scooter smiled slightly and nodded. “Yeah, Boss. We got everything—including your fall.”
“And it was great!” Gonzo said, with gusto. “But you could have put more into the landing.” Several people cast him annoyed looks. “What?” he asked, utterly bewildered by their behavior. “Geez, try to give a guy a little constructive criticism….”
Piggy stepped forward. There was a warning light in her eye. “Forget the stupid film,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Fozzie chewed his fingers anxiously.
“Um, sure,” Kermit said, standing with some difficulty. With his good arm, he cradled his injured one, and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner at everyone. “I’m fine—really.” He did not, however, quite meet Piggy’s eyes before turning to Scooter, again.
Scooter met his eyes sadly and shook his head. “We don’t have enough raw footage—even if we splice we’re probably going to be short in the scene with just you and Piggy.”
Kermit sighed and fretted. Piggy was at his elbow again, and he braced himself for a lecture on priorities, but when she spoke, it was to Scooter.
“Is everything okay except the fall?”
“What? Oh, yeah—well, actually the fall is okay, too.” He smiled a lop-sided smile. “It’s the landing that was the problem.”
Piggy fell silent, but her brow furrowed in concentration. “Could we—“ She turned on Kermit suddenly. “Could you fall into my bike basket?”
“Into your—oh.” Kermit was thinking, looking up at the branch and calculating. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I could do that.”
“Kermit, no,” Fozzie said. The nurse looked disapproving.
“No—I could. I can do that.”
“I don’t know, Boss,” Scooter said, but his eyes looked hopeful. “Do you really think so?”
“With an injured arm? Without killing yourself?” Piggy demanded. Kermit nodded, certain he could manage it. It wasn’t that far a drop, and he was certain that aiming his tushie at a basket was going to be easier that trying to land and balance on the handlebars had been.
“Yes,” he said, certainty in his voice.
Piggy stepped around to look him in the eye, then leaned forward and spoke so softly that no one else could hear. “I will let you try this one time—and one time only. If you get it, great—if you don’t, and you’re still breathing, that’s it. No more.”
Kermit gave her a hard look. “Let me?” he huffed. He glared at her for a moment, then he saw it—saw the fear beneath the anger and determination.
Piggy leaned closer, her eyes boring into his. “Let you,” she repeated. “Just like you let me.”
Kermit smiled then, and reached out with his good hand to squeeze Piggy’s arm. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s run this.”

Later, when the film was safely in the can, Kermit’s arm had been iced and secured in a sling, and Piggy had changed into more comfortable clothes, they say in the quiet auditorium watching the dailies roll. The scene had played well, and they had even reshot the ending with Kermit lounging comfortably in Piggy’s bike basket.
It looked nice. Everybody was happy with it. Kermit was glad it was over. He looked at Piggy and smiled. Wearily, she smiled back.
“Your turn on Monday,” he said, knowing she was thinking it. “That’s when the folks from the water ballet arrive.”
“Yes,” Piggy said, and she seemed surprisingly composed. “I’ll be ready.” She started to stand, but Kermit stopped her.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I want you to see something.” Piggy sank back into the seat, watching as Kermit went up to the sound booth, spoke to the crew members inside and returned to his seat. Piggy looked a question at him, but he merely nodded toward the screen as the film began to roll.
It was the lake footage. They watched in silence, Piggy’s unreadable, Kermit’s uncertain, until the film went white. It seemed a long time before Piggy spoke.
“It’s good,” Piggy admitted, her voice quiet. Something about the genuineness of the emotion in the scene came shining through, transcending the story-line.
“Yes,” Kermit said quietly. “I thought so, too.”
There was a small silence. “Are you going to use it?”
“I want to.” Kermit turned a last to look at her again, and found her gaze on him, steady and unreadable. Piggy shrugged slightly without expression.
“Your call.”
Kermit leaned for to take her hands, forgetting for a moment the sling that encumbered him. He winced and let out a short gasp, but took Piggy’s hand firmly in his good one. “I don’t want to do it without your permission. I want—I need you to be okay with this.”
Piggy looked at him for a moment, then a smile began to quirk the corners of her mouth. “You know me,” she quipped. “I’m all about the work.”
Kermit smiled back. “That makes two of us, doesn’t it?”
Piggy shrugged again, but expressively, and her smiled broadened a little. “That’s what we have in common.”
Kermit shook his head slowly, his expression suddenly serious. “No, Piggy,” he said quietly. “That’s just one of the things we have in common.”
Slowly, they stood, Piggy giving him a little elbow support because he was off-balance.
“Want to get a bite to eat?”
Piggy almost said no. It was in her eyes and on her lips, but what actually came out was. “That would be nice.” She blinked in surprise, then looked at him soberly. “But it’s not a date.”
“No—no date,” Kermit agreed. “Just two…friends, having a bite to eat.”
“Sound good,” Piggy said finally. And it was.