Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  Vicki rarely got phone calls from people who weren’t her family or from her job as a freelance film editor, and she only answered the call by accident when her thumb slipped. 

  Before she could cancel the call, a vaguely familiar voice came through. “Uh— Is this Vicki?”

  She tried to remember where she’d heard the voice before; it sounded pretty distinct, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on who it might have been. “… Yes.” She answered hesitantly, just in case it was a scammer.

  The voice’s owner let out a breath of relief. “Oh! Okay, I was worried Pepé gave me the wrong number. It’s Walter, and— I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

   Walter! She’d seen him on TV a few times when the media was hyping him up as The Muppets’ newest member, and she couldn’t help but still feel a slight sting of envy whenever she saw him next to Kermit and company. Just be happy for him, Vicki. You were just like him back then! She’d told herself. What could he possibly need her help for? “I can try, but remember, I don’t work with The Muppets anymore.”

  “No no, I know that and I’m not asking you to help me with my job, and you can hang up if this is too weird, but— I guess what I wanna ask is, what do you do when you start feeling like you’re not needed?”

  Oh. That wasn’t something she expected to hear from him, nor was it something she was prepared to answer. “What do you mean?” It wasn’t that she didn’t understand his question, but she needed time to think of something, and maybe getting the—  kid? How old was he actually compared to her, anyway?— to talk more about what was bothering him would help him process this more easily.

  “I mean… It’s not that I don’t like working for The Muppets, it was my dream and I’m living it, but… I know they like me, I just get the feeling that I’m not important to them, and that maybe they’ll get rid of me at some point. I know how ungrateful I sound, I should be happy that I got this opportunity at all! And I was, I was for a long time, and— all of a sudden I feel a little less happy here, and that scares me!” Walter paused, panting for breath. “… Sorry if that doesn’t make sense.” 

  Vicki took a minute to think about what Walter had just said. A few years ago, she would’ve been at least a little satisfied that Walter was starting to go through what she had. Now, though? She couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor guy, especially because he came to her for advice. “I… I don’t really have a good answer for that, Walter. I’m sorry.” She began, choosing her words carefully; she got the feeling he was hanging on her every word and was planning to take her advice dead-seriously. “If they let you go, they let you go. They might invite you back for special occasions, but don’t go pleading for them to take you back.” She said, getting a twinge of secondhand embarrassment when she thought of Leon. “But know that unless you did something really bad, it’s not your fault and they didn’t do it because they secretly hate you or anything like that. It’s just.. a matter of differences between them and you.”

  There was a moment of silence between them, with Walter taking in what he was hearing and Vicki trying to think of what to say next.

  “And… Don’t spend your life feeling bitter that it’s over, appreciate that it happened, y’know?” She suggested gently.

  “I-I get it.” Walter said slowly, sounding dazed. “I just— I just don’t know what I’ll do without them.” 

  Vicki smiled weakly. “I mean, I think you’ll be okay. Just ask Clifford, Lindbergh, Doctor van Neuter, Bean, Seymour— I know we don’t hear from them that often, but they’re happy— well, maybe not Doctor van Neuter after that whole mess with his medical license. But you get my point, right?”

  “Yeah.” Walter said, sounding more sure of himself this time. “Thanks, Vicki.” 

Chapter Text

Nobody knew what to expect when Beaker stormed out of the studio break room, looking more furious than he’d ever been, but his coworkers gave him a wide berth just in case. Before anyone mustered up the courage to ask him what was wrong, the sight of Dr. Phil van Neuter hurrying after him answered their question.

  “Beaker, please , I know we’ve had our differences, but you have to help me! I can’t go to jail over something like this!”

   Jail? That certainly got Gonzo’s attention. Sure, Phil had attempted to forcibly perform neurosurgery on him, but that had been for a movie! The worst thing he could remember Phil doing outside of that was the unfortunate incident with Arsenio Hall in the 90s.

  Beaker whirled around, fists clenched at his sides. “Mee mee mee-mee mee mee mee mo!” He argued. Phil shrunk back nervously for a moment, but didn’t back down.

  “So what if the actual veterinarian never showed up and the place had some kind of mix-up with our last names? All the staff thought I was the real vet!” He shouted angrily.

  “Ooh, that’s never a good sentence to hear.” Rizzo whispered into his friend’s ear; or rather, where he assumed his ear was.

  “Especially if it’s off the set.” Gonzo agreed.

  “Mee mee mee mee-mo mee mee mee-mee mee, mee!” 

  “And let that poor dog die ?!” Phil snapped, sounding mortified. “I may play an evil doctor on TV, but—”

  “Mee mee mee mee-mo mee-mee!” Beaker cried. 

  By this point, almost everyone in the room had stopped whatever they were doing to listen in on this conversation. 

  “‘Routine checkup and not life-saving surgery’.” Phil repeated irritably. “Look, I was trying to save his owner the time and stress of an appendectomy later, doesn’t that count for—”

  “Phil? Phil!” Rowlf called to get the doctor’s attention. “I don’t know what you were trying to take out, but dogs don’t have appendixes.” He explained, deeply uncomfortable. 

  Phil froze in horror, slowly turning to look at the horrified muppets around him. “I— I mean, I did put the scalpel down as soon as the nurse started yelling at me.” He added indignantly.

  “Mee mee mee .” Beaker muttered, deciding he’d had enough and that he’d rather get back to work. 

  “I heard that, and one mistake doesn’t mean I should get my license taken away forever !” Phil followed Beaker into the next room, continuing to argue with him. The last thing his coworkers heard of the two was Beaker gibbering something and Phil saying, “ Alright , I’ll stop repeating everything you say for everyone to— Oh. Oops.” 

  “What was that about?” Dr. Teeth wondered aloud, voicing what just about everyone was thinking.

  “I admit, I’m not sure, but I’m not looking forward to the fallout of this.” Dr. Bunsen Honeydew fretted.

Chapter Text

  “… What now?” Vicki had asked, unsure if she wanted answers from some higher power or her coworkers. She had the feeling that neither would help her in the moment, though. 

  “Well..” Lindbergh started, voice uncharacteristically thick with grief. “We could just finish the show how he had planned. Give everyone some time to think, ask the networks about airing the remaining episodes..” he trailed off, looking pleadingly towards Leon and Digit once he noticed that Vicki’s somber expression had remained unchanged.

  “O-Or we could use archived footage?” Digit suggested hollowly, only to shrink back at the venomous looks he received. He felt like a mere spectator in the back of his mind, listening to the rest of him run its mouth; he’d been feeling more addled than ever in recent years, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to his failing cybernetics or the news that his castmates had received a weeks prior. The rational part of his mind knew that whatever he was proposing would never work, but he hadn’t found himself thinking rationally in days. “Technology— Technology’s come so far, maybe we could—” he stammered, only to be cut off by a scaly pair of arms shoving him hard into one of the station’s monitors.

  “ Leon !” Vicki snapped.

 Groaning, Digit came to, blinking a few times just to be sure that he was still at Muppet Central. What he had just said seconds prior finally dawned on him, and he clamped a hand over his mouth in horror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I don’t know what came over me.” He said mournfully, the words thick and heavy. “But Vicki’s right. What do we do now?”

  “Nothing.” Leon snapped bitterly. “Don’t ya get it? Show’s over. There’s no Jim Henson Hour without him.” 

—

  They later found out that Kermit had taken a few months off of any Muppet productions to hopefully clear his mind, effectively leaving the MuppeTelevision crew in Limbo. When he returned, it was with an announcement that The Muppets as a troupe would try “going back to their roots”— and those plans didn’t involve Muppet Central, or anyone working there for that matter.

  Leon had seethed and Vicki had been crushed, but Digit couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than hollow. After all, what was left for him post-Muppets? He couldn’t think of any other places willing to take in a perpetually-malfunctioning cyborg, and he certainly couldn’t return to the Inner Tube system. Even Lindbergh’s efforts to keep him from malfunctioning were starting to fail, whether that was because Digit’s systems were rapidly becoming outdated or because Lindbergh simply didn’t have the skills necessary to help him. 

—

  Months had passed, but it still felt too soon when Kermit approached Digit during Muppet Central’s last official day of operation, his belongings cleared out and ready to be transported back to the studio. Digit angled his head to meet Kermit’s eyes, but all he could focus on was the faint rumble of the cab outside. 

  He barely caught a word Kermit was saying until the frog asked him, “Are you going to be okay?”, his mouth smiling but his eyes sad.

  Digit swallowed a lump in his throat that he hadn’t even realized was there. “Actually… Kermit, I had something to ask of you.”

  “Well— I’ll have to hear what it is first.” His soon-to-be-former boss said cautiously, though he was still nodding.

  “I was planning to shut myself off until someone could fix me.” Digit said plainly.

  Kermit did a double-take, mouth gaping in shock. “Shut yourself off— Why?! I’m sure there’s—”

  “Let me finish!” Digit exclaimed, looking to Kermit apologetically once the frog obliged. “… Sorry. I suspect my personal electronics have begun to fail, and I don’t have the funds to replace them. However, I don’t feel safe staying in my apartment for that long, especially because I will likely be kicked out once my rent is overdue.” He continued to explain, taking a deep breath. He was fully prepared for the possibility that Kermit would say no, but he wasn’t sure what he would actually do. “My last request is for you to keep me somewhere safe until someone with the necessary skills comes along. It doesn’t have to be comfortable, it just has to be secure.” 

  “Okay.”

  Now it was Digit’s turn to do a double-take. “You— really?”

  Kermit nodded. “It’s the least I can do for you. Did.. did you have a place in mind?”

  Digit winced. “Not necessarily, but I trust you to find a place.”

  “Alright.” Sheesh, that’s a lot of responsibility for one frog. He thought. Then again, he’d managed “a lot of responsibility” just fine before, and if things went well, he’d do it again. “When—” he began, but Digit had already pressed his “off” button as soon as the word left his mouth. 

  “Good night, Kermit.” Digit bid solemnly. His eyes were closed and he’d gone slack before Kermit could tell him to just wait , they weren’t even out of Muppet Central yet—

  “… Good night, Digit.” Kermit said softly.  

Chapter Text

 “Pepé, nobody actually thinks—”

 “No no, it’s important question that fans deserve the answers to, okay?” 

  “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you think it might be true?” The sound of Walter bickering with Pepé alerted Bunsen and Beaker to pause their work on their latest invention.

  “Who’s the boss here?” Pepé asked rhetorically, to which Walter sighed.

  “You are. Uh— Doctor Honeydew?” Walter asked hesitantly as Pepé pushed him into Muppet Labs’ current site of operations. “We’re doing a Q and A, and— I don’t think anyone except Pepé actually thinks this, but he wants you to answer this question and it sounds pretty serious.”

  Both scientists looked alarmed. “Oh dear, do you think it’s about the Berkeley incident?” Bunsen asked.

  “The what?” Walter asked, to which Beaker waved a hand dismissively.

  “Mee-Mee.” He explained.

  Walter had absolutely no idea what Beaker had said to him, but he nodded. “It’s not about the Berkeley thing, it’s— I’ll cut to the chase.” He said, looking over his shoulder and seeing Pepé standing in the doorway impatiently. “Is it true that you’ve been cloning Beakers and replacing him with a new one whenever he gets too hurt to keep working?” He asked uncomfortably.

  The resulting uncomfortable silence hung over the room like a dark cloud— or that could have just been the smoke billowing from the now-unattended invention.

  “Of course not!” Bunsen cried, incredulous. “What sort of scientist do you take me for? Beaker here—”

  The aforementioned assistant had quickly realized that the machine was starting to malfunction and has turned his attention to fixing it. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he’d be able to fix it on its own before it inevitably blew up. “Mee, mee-mee?” He asked nervously, reaching toward Bunsen to hopefully get his attention before it was too late.

  “Oh hush Beaker, I’m trying to clear up Mr. Walter’s misconception of you! As I was saying, Beaker is not expendable and I do not have any current plans to clone him.” He adjusted his glasses, thinking. “Though I suppose there was the kerfuffle with the Muppet Labs Copying Machine during Mac Davis’ guest appearance..”

  Beaker was momentarily torn between telling Bunsen that was not what he said at all and actually fixing the machine, but ultimately chose to focus on the latter— not an easy task, considering that it took one person to keep it stable and another to actually repair it. 

  “Ooh, I remember that.” Walter winced, coughing at the smoke but failing to notice the machine about to explode. “Hey, how did you tell Beaker apart from all those copies anyway?”

  “I admit, even I couldn’t tell them apart. So I did as a scientist does and simply made an educated guess—”

  Upon hearing this, Beaker was mortified— and in his fumble to turn around and ask Bunsen if he was  being serious, he made a slip with the screwdriver he was holding.

   KA-BOOM!

   Beaker was left coated in soot, as were the back of Bunsen’s head and lab coat. Walter had been spared the worst of the blast because he was standing further away, but was still left slightly singed and wide-eyed with terror. 

  Bunsen fixed his skewed glasses back into their rightful position as if nothing had happened. “But to answer your question, I’m quite sure that Beaker’s really Beaker! … I think.”

Chapter Text

  “You know who I think could help us?” Kermit had asked no one in particular during a brainstorming session. Despite approaching the plan with an optimistic mindset, it was clear that starting a theater troupe from the ground up— in a world that inexplicably favored reality shows above all else— was not going to be an easy task. Nevertheless, his fellow muppets glanced toward him with a mix of intrigue and amusement, wondering what hare-brained idea the frog was going to pitch to them this time. 

  Despite being a performer, Kermit had never felt more uncomfortable at having an audience’s full attention. “Max.” He said, confident but with an edge of hesitance as he realized that this idea probably wasn’t the trump card it had felt like when he first considered it.

  None of his performers looked impressed, but for what it was worth, none of them were rolling their eyes (yet). “Who now?” Fozzie asked.

  It was then that Kermit remembered that the Muppets’ harrowing encounter with Doc Hopper and associates had never happened here, and thus the name “Max”— let alone why he might be helpful— meant nothing to them. “Doc Hopper’s assistant?” He tried, to no response. “I guess you wouldn’t know him.” He sighed.

  “Wait, why are we looking into help from Doc’s ?” Scooter asked.

  “Yeah, I thought you hated that place.” Piggy remarked, remembering that one of the terms for joining the troupe was “No Doc Hopper’s products of any kind”. 

  “Well, we’re not asking for help from Doc, that’s for sure. Just a former associate of his.”

  “‘You sure you’re remembering his name right?” Scooter asked, looking something up on his computer. “I’m checking the Doc Hopper’s website and I don’t see anything about a ‘Max’.”

  Kermit was suddenly hit with a wave of dread. “Maybe check their history section?” He suggested nervously over the other muppets asking themselves why Kermit seemed to think “Max”— assuming the guy was even real— was their ticket to success.

  “Nope..” Scooter muttered. “Lots about the origin of the ‘secret recipe’ and how it became America’s favorite frog leg restaurant, but no Max.” Upon turning around and seeing how nervous his boss looked, Scooter shrugged. “I’ll just search for his name next to Doc’s, maybe something’ll come up then.” 

  “Kermit—” Piggy began, then sighed in frustration. “Even if we do somehow find this ‘Max’— in real life, not the internet— why would he want to help us?” 

  “Well— he may have helped Doc Hopper, but he wasn’t a bad guy himself, just working under some—”

  “You got that right.” Scooter laughed nervously upon seeing his search results, prompting everyone to flock to the computer, with Kermit at the front of the small crowd. “It says here that he and Doc had ‘differing visions’ of what the restaurant should be, and when he tried to call attention to how the place got their frog legs? Doc’s lawyers sued him into the ground and got him blacklisted from the industry.” He explained, pointing to the small black-and-white photo used to illustrate the article.

  Kermit frowned, horrified. “… Does it say anything about where he is now?”

  Scooter shook his head. “No word on that, other than that he’s probably still alive? He’d be at least 40-something by now.”

  Kermit stared at the photo, contrasting it with the sweet-faced, bespectacled young man he remembered from decades prior. The only thing about this Max that stayed recognizable was his glasses; his face was hardened, his hair seemed to have grayed early, and his eyes were wide like he’d seen something horrible. 

  “… Does that mean he’s out of the question?” Gonzo’s question startled Kermit out of his trance-like state of horror.

  Kermit swallowed hard and nodded.