When he came to, he was alone. He looked beside him; the bed sheets were a mangled mess. His vision beyond that was blurred. He pat his fur, his body, as if making sure he was still alive. He came to the consensus that he was, and left it at that. As he was getting up out of the bed, he remembered something important. He looked into the garbage can nervously. The anxiety soon gave way to a breath of relief, as he saw the familiar piece of paper still crumpled up inside, just the way he left it.
He trudged out of the room, wavering slightly as the wounds were still with him, and made his way toward the bathroom across the narrow hall. While passing through the corridor, he heard voices from downstairs. He thought he could hear Benson and Mordecai, and made out that they were arguing, as the tone of their voices were harsh and booming. 'Not really typical of Mordecai,' he thought drowsily, continuing on his short path. Before closing the door behind him, he caught a few words that they were saying; "hurt", "off", "better". Still in his waking sleep, he shut the door and trundled toward the shower, cranking the knob which allowed the water to begin heating up.
He scratched his head in irritation, thinking that there had to be something off. Usually he'd take showers in the evening before heading off to bed; why was he doing so now? He shrugged and prepared to step into the water before him. He stopped as he looked down and noticed the bandages covering parts of his body. 'How did these get…' the raccoon wondered as he began to peel the bloody cloth off his fur. It didn't stick too much, which he was thankful for, and came off quite easily. He discarded the now worthless strips in the trash bin in the corner of the small room, and looked down at the various scars and bruises that adorned him. He stepped fully into the water, and it hit him.
It wasn't so much the immense, searing pain which was brought on by the steaming liquid hitting his open wounds that caused him to almost cry out in complete agony as it was the memories of the previous night that were triggered once he entered the shower. His eyes went blank as he could feel his assailant's brutal fists and kicks on his body again and again. He tried to scream out, but couldn't, as he knew that if he did, his attacker would increase the pain he was experiencing tenfold. He stepped backward and slipped on the wet flooring, falling onto his back. His body cried out further in anguish as the cruel ground made contact with the scars and bruises on his back. He heard the switchblade spring out. His tail curled behind him. He felt the shoves, the fighting, the torment; it all raided his mind at once, never ceasing its relentless assault. He backed into the corner and held his knees tightly, shutting his eyes, wishing the pain and the madness would fade away.
"Dude, how could you even say something like that?"
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this emotional. Hell; he couldn't even recall the last time he showed emotion. But this was something serious to him. Something that mattered, and he wanted to make sure it was established.
"Look, all I'm saying is that he's your responsibility," the gumball machine said, finishing the eggs left on his plate from breakfast. The bird confronting him was standing up next to him, gripping the back of an empty chair with his feathered wings tightly.
"I know that! But he's been hurt, and-"
"I'm sure you're just overreacting," Benson interrupted, picking up his now clear plate and walking toward the sink, preparing to wash it off and place it in the adjacent dishwasher. "Rigby's got into trouble plenty times before, but you guys always seem to get out of it alright, even if it's for the worse," he added, muttering the final part. Mordecai's anger erupted suddenly, and he slammed his wings down on the table ferociously.
"This is different!" Benson turned around and looked at the blue jay, a quizzical look on the boss's face. They looked at each other for several moments, the bird's glare seemingly burning a whole into the groundskeeper in front of him. But the power of his gaze subsided, and at last, Mordecai resigned. "Dude, Benson… sorry about that. I just thought he'd need a day off, or something. So he could get better." He sighed and sat down on the chair he had been so fiercely grabbing.
"You've been working pretty hard lately," Benson admitted, resuming the cleaning of his breakfast materials, "for a slacker. You can't let a whole bunch of things get on top of you. You'll bog yourself down." Silence bounced off the walls of the kitchen. The gumball machine finished closing the dishwasher when he broke the quietness. "I don't think you and Rigby should work together anymore." Mordecai stared at Benson, mouth agape.
"…What?"
"You heard me," he continued, his voice stern. "You guys destroy everything you touch whenever you work together, and you know it. With what seems to be going on lately… I think it's for the best."
"But, dude-!"
"No buts, or you're fired." Mordecai gave up, boiling with a mixture of anger and disappointment, and walked out of the room before exploding. He began to march up the stairs.
The knock on the door saved the small creature from his hallucinations. Shivering on the floor while the warm water continued to pelt his dampened fur, the raccoon looked over at where the door would be behind the shower curtains. "Rigby?" He heard the call from behind the wall. "You okay, dude?"
'Crap!' Rigby thought, unable to stop shaking and regain his footing, still tortured by the images in his mind. 'I can't let him see me like… like…'
"Dude?" The voice called again. He heard the quiet rattle of the knob. "I'm coming in." The rattling grew louder, and he shut his eyes in anticipation of what was to come.
"D-dude, I'm taking a shower in here!" He found his voice, and hoped that the one on the other side of that door didn't notice the slight trembling in it. The rattling stopped. He heard a halfhearted chuckle, and relaxed.
"Alright dude," the voice said. Rigby found that he was able to stand up. Using the slippery wall as support, he was able to get to his feet and begin washing himself. "I just need to talk to you when you get out…" Rigby didn't like the sound of that. It made the hollow feeling inside of himself grow even larger. His mind began to conjure up the possibilities. 'Are we fired? Did he find out about the letter? Are they getting married?' He let the thoughts run rampant throughout his pained skull as he finished showering.
The bird stared at the wall opposite him while sitting on his bed. How was he going to tell Rigby what had happened? How would the little guy take the information? He groaned as he leaned his head down and brought his wings up to his eyes, rubbing at them. The stress was eating him alive. And it wasn't just the stress of working at one of the largest parks in the world; it was the stress of keeping everything in check. His life. His best friend. His boss. Margaret. 'Benson was right,' he thought, 'I'm letting everything get on top of me. This is too much. Anything more and…' His train of thoughts ceased as he noticed his friend walk in, a white towel wrapped around his head. The scars and bruises were largely noticeable; his torso, back, and arms were badly cut up. Mordecai grimly smiled. "Looks like we're going to have to get you bandaged up again, huh?" Rigby brought himself to let out a small laugh.
"Yeah, I guess so," he replied, unconsciously walking toward where his pile of junk usually was, only to remember that it wasn't there. "How long does it take for them to find a mound of stuff?" He asked, more to himself than to Mordecai. "It can't be that hard to find." The avian chuckled, glad to have his friend somewhat back from depression.
"Well, it's only been a day," he said, patting a spot on the bed. Rigby hopped up onto it, sitting beside his taller companion. "Give it time."
"Whatever," the raccoon said, looking aside. They sat in silence for several moments, lost in their own separate worlds. "You wanted to tell me something?"
"Huh? What?"
Rigby sighed, annoyed at his friend for ignoring him. "When I was in the bathroom, you said you wanted to talk to me. What is it?"
"Oh," Mordecai said, snapping back to reality. He scratched the back of his head nervously. "Uh, yeah. Well… it's about Benson."
Rigby's mind started reeling. 'No, no… we got fired, I got us fired, dammit, what did I do?' He began to shake in his seat.
"And us. He wants-"
"Dude, I'm sorry!" Rigby blurted out. Mordecai raised an eyebrow at his friend's sudden exclamation.
"Wuh… what?"
"I'm sorry for getting us fired, dude," Rigby said his paws reaching up and grabbing at Mordecai's wing nearest to him. "I'm sorry for being such a huge slacker, and being such a failure, and-"
"Dude, calm down!" Mordecai said, giving Rigby's arms a slight shove so that he would stop gripping his wing. "We're not fired!"
"We…" Rigby began, beginning to calm down. "…We're not?"
"No, dude," he said, smiling at the raccoon next to him. "We're still working here. And you're definitely not a failure."
Rigby let out a breath of relief. "Whew. For a second there, I thought it was something serious."
The jay's smile turned into a frown. "But Benson doesn't want us to work together anymore." The raccoon tensed up again, and looked at Mordecai with sorrowful eyes.
"…Oh." Rigby's sightline dropped to the sheets on the bed. He didn't like that. In fact, he almost liked it less than the prospect of them being fired. At least if they were fired, they'd still be together, like they'd always been. But this… his mind went straight to Margaret. The one that Mordecai admired. The one that Mordecai was infatuated with. The one he knew he loved. For the past week or so, the only times he and Mordecai hung out was during work or sometimes break. The birds had spent so much time together recently that Rigby couldn't take it. He missed his friend. "So… It's still my fault…" He drew his knees close to his chest like he had done several minutes earlier.
"Nah, dude," Mordecai said, patting Rigby on the back. "I screwed up just as badly as you." Rigby shook his head, his eyes clenched tightly shut as a chill ran up his spine.
"No," he said, opening his eyes slowly, looking at the floor that looked so far away from his place on the bed. "You don't know… what it's like…" He shuddered. "I've always been the cause of all our problems… of all the… the…"
Mordecai was beginning to get worried. Rigby was turning back to the way he was the night prior; absent, dreary… different. He rubbed his pal's back, trying to soothe him so that he might regain some of the lost confidence that was once present in the ecstatic raccoon. He still didn't know what had happened that night, but he wanted to find out, for he feared that whatever it was that occurred might have changed the one sitting next to him forevermore. "Rigby, it's not your fault. We'll be fine." The words that came out of the bird's beak seemed to ease Rigby's pain, as the trembling had ceased.
"We'll still hang out though, right?"
"Of course, dude!" He said, taking his wing off Rigby's back. "Breaks, after work, you name it; everything'll be fine." The smaller one let a small smile meet his lips.
"Alright," Rigby said, hopping off the bed. "I trust you." Mordecai got up as well and walked after him.
"We should probably go get you some new bandages now."
A/N: Story will pick up pace in the next chapter, I promise.
