A/N: Yes, I changed the title. Sorry for that. I just wasn't feeling the one I'd already selected. I do that a lot, even with my chapter file names. Thank you for putting up with that minor inconvenience.

Feel free to leave opinions, and please enjoy!

Peabody nearly fell out of bed from the shaking, and bolted up, immediately reaching for his glasses, "Sherman! Sherman, the earthquake machine's gone awry again, where—Oh. There you are… What are you doing in here so early?"

The boy hopped up onto the bed excitedly after the acknowledgment from his father, "I was thinking maybe we could get an early start on the day since it's Saturday!"

"Oh? Well… All right," Peabody yawned and stretched, sitting up in the bed. "I dare say I haven't seen you this excited in quite some time!"

"Guess I'm just in the mood to learn!"

"Really? Sherman, that's wonderful!" Peabody exclaimed, hopping out of his bed and clasping his paws together. "Let's be off!"

"Yeah!" the boy laughed, leading the way.

They weren't in the early-morning Manhattan penthouse by the end of the hour—And by the afternoon they looked out upon an expanse of desert, while perched atop the back of a horse.

Peabody lifted up the brim of his white ten-gallon hat as they wandered into the silent Old West town, Sherman peering curiously towards the shut windows and blinds that drew even tighter.

"…What are they so afraid of, Mr. Peabody?"

"Well, Sherman… Either it's tax season, or we're not alone here."

"When are we, anyway?"

"October 26, 1881, Tombstone, Arizona. Well, the Arizona Territory. To be precise, we're at the O.K. Corral."

"Okay? Everyone seems pretty bad-off to me…"

"Your horse is illegally parked! For the last dang time I'm tellin' ya to move it!" Sherman became aware of a man shouting near a trough where a brown horse had been lapping water without a care in the world.

Another man, this one rougher-looking by far, snarled and shoved the first man, "Are you callin' me a liar!"

"Yer jus' lucky I don't take ya in for anythin' else!"

"Ah, it'd appear as though we came at just the right time… That man on the right is Frank McLaury—The one on the left is none other than Doc Holliday!" Peabody whispered excited, slowing his horse down. "We're at the scene of the famous shootout at the O.K. Corral. Versions differ on what exactly happened to start the fight between the two groups… But it looks as though we're getting a firsthand glance!"

"Hey! What're you lookin' at?!" McLaury shouted at the dog and his boy.

"Ah, nothing in particular. We were just… Moseying," said Peabody with a chuckle.

"McLaury! You get three seconds to get outta Dodge or—"

"I ain't even in Dodge!" McLaury shot back.

"Frank! Frank, what's goin' on!?" other men barreled out of a saloon, and Sherman watched from behind as several men stormed out of what looked to be a sheriff's office.

"You may want to close your eyes for this, Sherman. Things in the West are about to head south," Peabody whispered, attempting to backtrack his horse into a nearby alley.

"Ah no you don't!" another man, apparently on Frank's side of things, grabbed Peabody's horse by the reigns. "We're gonna use this to make a run for it."

"What're Billy, Ike, an' me supposed to use, then?!"

"I don't know, Clanton! You got wits!"

"They couldn't find hay in a haystack," Peabody sighed, and slid off of his horse. "Gentlemen, if I may…"

"You may not!" shouted one of the sheriffs. "Get on outta here, dogey."

"Ah, Mr. Earp. Well, you see, I think we can all come to some sort of mutual—Understanding!" Peabody finished this sentence with a spin, and before any of the outlaws could pull out their weapons, he'd fired several times—A bullet hole now decorating every hat. The outlaws looked on, stunned, and Peabody blew some smoke off of the barrel. "Now I want each of you to go home and apologize to your parents for heaven only knows what you've put them through! Go on, get!"

After a stunned pause, Billy nudged Ike, and as if choreographed, all of the outlaws took off running.

"Not bad," Peabody nodded in satisfaction, handing the gun back to Earp and climbing back atop his horse with Sherman. "Sheriff. Sherman, tip your hat. It's only polite."

Sherman did so, and with an opened mouth Earp managed to reach up and tip his own ten-gallon hat.

"That was so great!" Sherman exclaimed on their drive back home. "I mean, just how you… And then… And then BAM!"

"Just remember violence is never an answer, Sherman. I merely did that to intimidate those men out of terrorizing anyone any further."

"Yes, Mr. Peabody…."

"…Although… It was a bit impressive, I must admit."

"Where were you thinking now?"

"Oh, well, don't you have a friend's birthday party to attend? It's this Saturday, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah! I nearly forgot!" Sherman gasped. "Wait! I totally forgot to pick up a present."

"Not to worry, I took the liberty of picking up something myself yesterday."

"Really? Thanks!"

"Never a problem," he reached over and patted the boy on the head, and looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "And I know someone else's birthday is very quickly approaching. Have you thought about what you'd like? An electron microscope? A Latin translator?"

"A copy of Wreck and Smash 3?"

"Certainly not. You're still much too young for that level of violence."

"…Is that an irony, Mr. Peabody?"

"…Sherman, I can't possible quantify you how proud you've made me just now."

"Welcome back!" nothing in the penthouse was on fire. Already that was a good sign.

"I see you recovered from the previous few nights ago," Peabody tilted his head as he noted the still-present limp of the cat.

"Nothing a little ice can't do," she attempted to laugh this off while cringing. "I was just getting over the bruises from the corset, too."

"I see you've been working," Peabody's shoulders fell as he noticed the trail of paint on the floor.

"Yeah, it's almost done! I had time for another one of those bath things, too," she exclaimed. "I've actually got more room now than I did at my old place."

"This has been noted and is being remedied," Peabody declared proudly. "It'll take a bit longer to make the repairs now, you understand. I hope this is all right with you."

"As long as I don't end up killing your kitchen."

"There are some fresh meals I froze in the freezer. You can help yourself to some of these if you wish. I'd rather spend the extra time cooking than deal with an inferno. Sherman! Let me go grab that gift!"

"How long is she going to be staying with us, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman asked in a whisper as they both off in search of the present.

"Well, with the newest change, we'll need to start at the foundation… So possibly a month? Two?"

"A MONTH?" Sherman squeaked as they wandered into Peabody's, the dog switching on the light to the room and pulling the wrapped present out of an otherwise empty dresser drawer.

"Yes. Is there a problem with that? I thought you both were getting along well. And you were the one who asked for me to have her stay with us in the first place."

"Yeah, but… That was before…"

"Before…? Sherman… Sit," Peabody hopped on the bed and motioned for Sherman to do so, after a moment's hesitation. "She's merely a friend. There's nothing at all for you to be worried about."

"You promise?"

"I swear on the grave of Galileo himself," Peabody made a cross sign over his chest to signify this. "Take in the culture of having someone new in the house with a different viewpoint. I am."

"You guys seem to get into arguments a lot."

"I didn't say it was a particularly good culture. We just come from different mindsets is all. Much like you and some of your friends."

"You mean like Penny?"

"Exactly! You're an intellectual young boy, and Penny is the same, but you both go about it completely different ways."

"Like how she threatens to beat people up?"

"It's not a point I'd agree with, much less enjoy you agreeing with, but yes."

"All right," Sherman reached over to embrace his father suddenly, and Peabody reveled in this, returning the embrace.

"All right then. Now time to get to that party! Do you remember the rules?"

"Limit myself to two sodas, say please and thank you…"

"And…?"

"And if people start taunting the party clown it doesn't mean I should join in. We're in a recession and everyone has to make a living and should be respected for their career paths equally," replied the little boy, as if almost quoting scripture.

"That's the spirit!" Peabody led his son out of the bedroom, a paw on his back. "Would you be all right if our friend went with us, Sherman?"

"Yeah, yeah that's fine!" Sherman exclaimed.

"Rigby, would you like to—"

"YES! I… I mean… I don't know how to work a microwave and I would've starved," Rigby chuckled nervously, wringing her hands together.

The three zoomed around on the scooter, Rigby sitting behind Peabody on the driver's seat, occasionally pointing out artwork and buildings that they passed.

"All right… How about that one?" she pointed over to a large church as they drove past it, and Sherman gave a laugh.

"Easy! That's neo-gothic!"

"And that's amazing!" she returned over the sound of traffic.

"Have a good time!" Peabody called out as Sherman hopped out of the sidecar, bagged gift in hand. "Remember to call me if you want to come home early, for any reason! I'll be here."

"I will. Hey, Mr. Peabody, what is this gift, anyway?"

"Ah! An unabridged dictionary! Similar to the one you got last year!"

"G-Great…. I'll see you, Mr. Peabody!"

Rigby noticed Peabody remaining there until Sherman was met by his classmate's mother at the door of the complex. She looked up and waved to Peabody, shouting out, "Remember next Thursday!"

"I will! Thank you Jill!"

"What's that?" asked Rigby.

"My turn to bring bagels to the PTA meeting," he answered, taking off yet again.

"So you'd be—"

"Don't say it—"

"The bagel Beagle?"

"And there it is…"

"It's cute. Oh, hey, you've got the yellow light."

"You mean the green light."

"Yellow. How do you even see green?"

"…Ohhh."

Light bulb, thought Peabody.

"Please tell me there's a buffet behind your hands. Please," Rigby tripped slightly over the seventeeth-cenutry Italian-style blue dress, catching herself at the last minute.

"In a way I suppose it could be considered that."

He stopped her in the center of the room, and Rigby took in any hints she could as to where she was. Cool tile floor… Warm sun… Echoes… And the smell of wood and flowers.

Peabody removed his paws slowly, enhancing the effect, "Wait to open your eyes, just a moment."

She felt something lower over her eyes, and her nose twitched, "What are you—"

"You'll see in but a moment. This is something I developed while still a pup. Patent pending, of course. All right, you may open your eyes!"

Rigby did so, slowly.

"This is color," Peabody explained, having taken a few steps back. This moment belonged to her… To encroach on it felt… Wrong.

Rigby spun around once, slowly, taking in all of the details on the ceiling. The brightness and intensity left her speechless. Gingerly she reached down, feeling the ground to make sure she was still alive, and gently laid herself down on the floor of the Sistine Chapel, all at once attempting to look at everything as a whole and everything as a part, everything as a light, and everything as a dark.

"…Not even catnip was this good…" she finally said, breaking the silence of only birds chirping in the distance.

"The glasses work to readjust the cones so that things come… Into focus a bit more… Fortunately I had a smaller pair handy… We've been looking to market them starting next year," after about an hour of taking in every detail of the Sistine chapel, the two had decided to go for a walk down one of the streets, back towards the WABAC.

"I'll definitely have to buy a pair, then."

"Well, you can keep those in the meantime."

"…You really mean that?"

"Of course! I have a pair, I can make others, it's not really a—" Peabody wasn't braced for the hug that followed, and immediately stiffened as the cat's arms locked around his neck. "It's for your job, after all…"

"Sorry, was that… That was out of line."

"I definitely appreciate the sentiment," he adjusted his own dark red outfit and cleared his throat.

"It is sad I'm starting to love the fact you ruined my home?"

"I'd say not. Sometimes these things happen. You look down an alley and happen to see someone there who… You don't know it, but will become one of the main focuses of your life. It's all just—"

"Coincidence."

"I'd call that kismet."

"Don't go adding new words into this!" she laughed. "What's that mean, anyhow?"

"It's a Turkish term referring to a belief in fate."

"So this is fate to you, too?"

"There's the scientific part of me that believes in actions and reactions. But there's also the romantic that likes to think that fate's a possibility."

"Oh, really now?" Rigby stopped in front of the WABAC, and in front of Peabody. He searched in vain for the opening to it, stopping his search at the sudden sound of hissing from his companion.

"What did I do n—" Peabody turned and found a dog, smaller than himself, yapping towards him and bouncing about 8excitedly. "Oh, hello. No thank you. On your way. Go on. Go."

Rigby let out another hiss, and Peabody huffed and rolled his eyes, positioning himself staunchly in-between the cat and dog.

"Bark. Bark bark," said the genius with nary a hint of enthusiasm and folded arms.

The pup only continued to yap in return.

"I'm afraid I'm not catching what you're saying and you're going to have to slow down a bit. I think your accent's a bit think."

Rigby's paranoia over the small dog had passed, and now she glanced over Peabody's shoulder to the puppy.

"I think he wants you to play with him?"

"I can't tell; he's not slowing down. Oh, excuse me. She. She's not slowing down."

"Just bark back at him."

"What did you think I was just doing?"

"That. That was really you barking?" Rigby blinked.

"It's perfectly structured for the period. Perhaps the accent's a little off, but let's face it, I'm a New Yorker."

"I… Like you're shouting. From the chest."

"Ah, like a fine aria," Peabody nodded in confirmation, and bent down in front of the brown and white dog. "Woof. Woof."

"Like you're shouting, like I broke something. Like Sherman took the WABAC without permission to… What's it… The Great Plague?"

"I believe you mean the Black Plague."

"Sure, okay! Just try it."

Peabody regained his stance in front of the dog, who by now had taken a seat in front of him, its head tilted. One last time he attempted this, and the strange dog perked up excitedly at the successful bark.

"There. If I can perform Pagliacchi on short notice, anything is possible," Peabody cleared his aching throat and turned back to the cat, who was holding back another laugh.

"Are you going to try that, too?" she chuckled, pointing to the dog that was now rolling in the dirt and growling happily. Peabody cringed and opened the door to the WABAC, motioning for Rigby to climb in first.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not available right now," Peabody whispered on his way into the WABAC before ducking in. He poked his head out once more, and reached out, patting the dog on the head, "With your personality, you'll meet the right one, I'm certain of it!"

"What was all of that about?" Rigby asked after he'd shut the door and walked to the pilot's seat.

"Ohhhh, nothing, nothing!" Peabody replied, rushing to set their coordinates for home. "Just a little compliment. Just a compliment. Really. It's the dog's honest truth."

Rigby leaned back and grinned, taking in the new, vibrant blue light in front of them.