13 Steps, a Regular Show fanfiction.

Step Ten: The Gift

"Dude, look!"

I nudged Mordecai gently, his attention somewhere else. He shook his head lightly then looked down at me, looking lost.

"Look straight ahead," I pointed, finger extended toward the pale spring sky. It had finally stopped raining a couple hours ago, and through the silver clouds there was a double rainbow, their arcs crossing faintly. "You don't see that every day, huh dude?"

His head turned toward the sky, and a small smile crossed his beak. "Yeah, pretty sweet dude." Just as quickly as he had looked, he turned back to the ground, continuing to rake. I let out a small sigh, making sure he wouldn't hear me.

Like that would work.

I shrugged to myself, picking my own rake up from the damp ground. It had been a couple weeks since I was discharged from the hospital, and from the outside looking in you'd think things had returned to normal. In a way, I guess they had. Mordecai and I were working side by side again, nights were filled with video games and cheesy old movies, and we even found a new shop to go have coffee in. By now my fur looked like someone had buzzed-cut it, but I was thankful it was growing back at all. Even Benson was calmer around me, though I had a hunch it was because I was actually doing work. Yeah, from a distance it looked like things were pretty decent.

The truth was a harsh reality from the world I tried to surround myself in. Mordecai was almost like a zombie; he barely insulted me or tried to joke with me. He was never mean or cruel, and the weird part was, it felt wrong. A part of me wanted him to blame me for everything that had happened, to take his anger out me like a punching bag. Mordecai was never the emotional one compared to me, but this was getting too creepy. Still, I never pressed anything and kept quiet about his attitude. If I made one wrong move again, he'd be gone forever this time. It was better to just go with the flow.

At night, when it was just me and my thoughts, I kept going back to that dream in the hospital, the scene that seemed so real. Had Margaret told Mordecai out of guilt? His story had confused me if anything, but it must have been true, since he never even walked past the shop anymore, and I knew that he wasn't lying about that. I didn't tell Mordecai, but the whole situation seemed...unfinished, like a horror flick where you never get to see who the killer was. Was this the crappy sequel?

Coolness spread through my body suddenly and I turned my face into the sky, and realized it has started to rain again. Raining was a loose term, since it was only sprinkling. The burns had left my skin sensitive to any kind of touch or feeling, and needless to say, it was annoying and uncomfortable. I shivered from the cold chilling my body, but did my best to ignore it. A couple months ago, I would have threw my rake down and ran for the warmth of the house, but now I wouldn't have the heart to leave Mordecai out here to finish the day's work.

Had I changed? Matured? I didn't feel like a whole new Rigby, but it seemed like our lives had completely changed for us. The more and more I replayed the last few months in my head, the crazier I felt. Would this be our lives from now on, Mordecai walking around with no direction, and me with guilt that couldn't be fixed? The thought horrified me. Wasn't there anything I could do?

Another shiver shot through my body. I couldn't even rub myself for warmth because of my stupid sensitive skin. Great. My grip on the rake started to tremble, and I realized I wasn't going to last much longer out here.

"Rigby."

I jumped a bit, startled by the sudden call of my name. I turned around and saw Mordecai, watching me. "Go back to the house and get warm. I'll finish up," he simply stated, folding his wings. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed, concerned, or both.

I shook my head softly. I wasn't going to leave him out here to pick up my slack. "I'll be fine, we're almost done anyway."

"I said go back to the house. You're still not completely better and I'll be damned if I'm bringing you back to the hospital because of your pride."

I frowned, looking away. Mordecai may have been acting weird, but his bossiness was still there in full swing. I couldn't help myself and turned back to say something to him, but stopped; my mouth went dry and I couldn't speak.

The world had turned black and white, like an old movie, grays of all different shades were swirling around like a heavy fog. What really caught my attention, though, was the fact that any remaining color I could see was coming from Mordecai. Actually, to be more specific, his chest. His beak was moving up and down with speech, but I couldn't hear a thing. The bright shades were mesmerizing, and I couldn't look away; they were unlike any colors I had ever seen before, vivid and clear.

Swirls of dark blue were intertwining around coils of black so dark I felt myself take steps back in horror. Surrounding the coils was a mist of neon green, almost like poison gas, and deep within the core of all the other colors was a purplish-red, pulsating in a timely beat.

Maybe they have some sort of meaning.

Despite their curving, twisting motions, I noticed the colors never spread past his chest, and they all had a common motion of spinning in a weird, orbit-like way. My heart was beating faster and faster, and the colors grew dimmer in front of me. The last thing I remember is Mordecai's eyes widening in surprise.

"Rigby. Rigby, wake up dude."

The voice sounded faint and far away, as if it was were miles away, but right away I knew who it was.

Mordecai?

My eyes slowly opened and focused to the light beating down from the ceiling. I let out a groan, but more in anger than surprise. How many times can one guy get knocked unconscious? There was no other explanation as to why I was laying on this bed, obviously indoors.

"Good, you're awake."

I lifted my head to see a blue-feathered face staring back at me, this time a look of concern. "I told you to go inside, but you didn't listen. It's a good thing you're OK, luckily it's only been a few minutes and not an entire night."

I groaned again, resting my head back against the pillow. "It was a mistake, OK? I didn't want to leave you with all the work, dude."

Mordecai's face had a flash of surprise but it quickly dissolved back into a neutral glance, as if he had tried to hide it. "Well, it backfired Rigby, because I ended up doing the work anyway," he remarked, sighing, taking a few steps away to look to the other side of the room. Suddenly all I wanted to do was embrace him in a hug, and tell him how sorry I was. Instead, I shook the feeling off and slowly propped my body up so I was sitting. My paw found my forehead and I rubbed it softly, the pressure heavy.

"Look, I said I'm sorry, what else-"

Mordecai had turned back around to face me, and the colors were still there, radiating from his chest. I couldn't help but gasp softly.

I wasn't imagining them.

Mordecai must have seen my look of shock and took it as another warning. "Oh crap, Rigby, not again," he said alarmed, and stepped back toward me.

"No, no, I'm f-fine," I stammered, waving my arm in assurance. "I just...thought I saw something."

He sighed again, sitting on the bed with a plop. "This has got to stop, man, you're scaring me." I peered into his chest again and noticed that all of the colors I had seen outside were still there, but now the purplish red core in the center had grown dimmer, and smaller. Or at least I thought.

I kept my cool this time and nodded. "OK, alright, you're right dude. I guess it's been a couple of crazy weeks, but I'll be fine. Promise."

Mordecai didn't look very convinced, but at least he nodded back. "Fine. If you're going to promise anything though, make it that you'll stop pushing yourself when you feel weak, OK?"

"Alright," I replied, letting out a deep exhale. I didn't know where these colors were coming from, but one thing I did know is that they hadn't shown up randomly. They meant something, and I needed to find out what it was.

That night I lay awake on my cold trampoline, mind reeling, my body tossing and turning. Every idea about where the colors came from and their purpose I thought of didn't make any sense. I was growing more confused and frustrated with every passing minute; I couldn't lie there pretending like I could ignore it anymore...

I closed the back door quietly behind me with a metallic click, and the cool night breeze caressed my fur. I started to walk upright, feeling the dew from the grass wet my toes.

C'mon Skips, please be awake.

To my relief, I saw the dim light shining through the window of the annex where he lived. I walked up the little path to the front door and knocked quietly. The sound of footsteps patting across the floor got closer, and a moment later I heard the latch of the door unlock, the door creaking open. Skips was there, filling the entire doorway, an annoyed expression on his face. "It's late. This better be important."

"It is," I stated simply, following him inside. We walked into the center of the room and he motioned simply to his weight bench, and I sat down uncomfortably.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with the accident," his gruff voice said without hesitation, looking at me sternly.

"Yeah. How did you-"

He stopped me, raising a hand. "You're forgetting I know everything."

Of course.

"I guess. Anyway, today I started seeing these weird...colors inside Mordecai when we were doing our work out in the field. They were coming from his chest, and I have no idea what they mean or where they came from."

I peered at Skips in closer detail and noticed I had missed the colors completely when I first came in. They were swirls of off-white, barely visible against his white fur, so I guess that's why. Why were there no actual colors?

He looked down to his chest then back at me, noticing. "I have them too, right?"

I nodded. "You have the swirls, but they're white, not in color. Mordecai had blues, blacks, reds and some green."

He grunted, thinking. "You said they're coming from the chest. Near the heart, right?"

Heart? Why the heart?

I shook my head, confused. "I don't get it."

He suddenly stood up. "I've only heard about this happening, but never actually seen it in-person."

"What do you mean?"

He looked back at me. "Those colors you've been seeing, there's a reason why they're only around the chest. Those are heart waves."

"Heart waves?" What the H was Skips talking about?

He sighed. "Rigby, do you know what a mood ring is?"

Of course I did, those things were so tacky and I never thought they actually worked. What was the connection?

"Heart waves are kind of like a mood ring. When a person feels a certain feeling or way, their heart emits waves that are color-coded. The more complex their emotions are, the more colors you'd be able to see. Well, if they could actually see them. Normal beings aren't supposed to be able to see them."

I shook my head again, barely able to grasp what Skips was saying. So I was able to see what people were feeling through "invisible" waves? It didn't make any sense.

"Could this be an effect of the accident?"

Skips nodded. "It's very possible, since the burns you received were technically radioactive waves." He thought for a moment, as if recalling information. "There's no way of knowing if this is permanent or not, or if it's dangerous. I suggest you keep quiet about it. You could really freak people out if they knew the power you had over them."

Power. I hadn't even thought of the waves as a power.

"What does each color mean?" I wondered out-loud.

"You'll have to figure that out on your own, some could be obvious but I'm guessing others could be more vague."

I groaned. Thanks for the help Skips. Truth was though, he had helped, a lot.

"I'm kinda freaked out by this, Skips."

"Just keep quiet about it and try to act normal," he offered simply.

Acting normal with colors swirling around everyone is going to be impossible.

"I'll try. Thanks Skips."

I left the annex feeling more confused then ever.

The next couple of days went by way too slowly. I had spent almost every waking minute studying everyone carefully, watching them discreetly as I could while I worked, ate and even relaxed in the living room. The interesting thing was they all had distinctly different waves. Pops' were pale pinks and reds floating calmly without much movement. Benson's were swirling around in different motions, almost like the tilt-a-whirl Mordecai and I had puked on last summer at the state fair. They made me dizzy and were mostly a bright angry red color, a lighter shade of orange around the core. Even Muscle Man had them, an ugly shade of brown that made me think of not-so-pleasant thoughts.

The one who I was keeping an eye on the most, unsurprisingly, was Mordecai. I watched him carefully all day and didn't notice a change most of the morning. The blackness was still here, dark blue coiled around the arms, and the green mist was steady like a screen around the whole area.

It wasn't until after dinner that I noticed an alarming change: the purplish-red core that I had noticed the first time had stopped pulsating all-together. In fact, it wasn't bright at all. It looked dim and lifeless, like someone had flipped an OFF switch.

"You've been pretty quiet," I said, trying to start a conversation. The only other sounds in the room was the upbeat pixelated music from our game bleep-booping.

"I'm not feeling so great," Mordecai simply stated, eyes still fixed on the screen, idly mashing buttons.

"Anything I can do to help?"

He sighed in response, shaking his head slowly. "No, but thanks dude. I'll be alright."

I didn't believe him. I couldn't, seeing that red core growing dimmer.

He got up suddenly, handing me the controller. "Here, play for me. I'm gonna go to bed, OK?"

"Ni-" I began to say, but he was already headed up the stairs. I set down his controller, almost in anger, and stood up myself. There was no way I was going to let this keep going. After watching him and those colors all day, plus the way he was acting in general, I began to realize what I needed to do. My plan had to start now, before it was too late.

I walked into the office quietly, shutting the door behind me, thankful everyone else was asleep by now. I reached for the phone and grabbed it, a piece of paper in my other paw. I read it quickly, then dialed. I knew it was late, but I had a feeling it wasn't too late to call.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered.

Do it.

I inhaled quickly. "Margaret, it's Rigby. We really need to talk."

When does a gift become a curse? Find out next time...