Disclaimer: I don't own "Rick and Morty". It's the brainchild of one Dan Harmon

and Justin Roiland, et. al.

Author's Note: This take place post-Chronenbourg (Season 1, Episode 6, "Rick Potion No.9")

To everything: turn turn turn

There is a season: turn turn turn

And a time for every purpose under heaven.

"Turn! Turn! Turn!" by Pete Seeger, inspired by he Book of Ecclesiastes, 3:1-8

It was a typical Friday night in the Smith family household: Summer in her bedroom, Rick in the garage, Morty in the den, and Beth and Jerry were out attempting what they liked to call "dating again".

Nobody expected a knock on the front door around 8pm.

It was Morty who answered it. He opened the door to find two police officers, one a tall black male and the other a short caucasian. Their faces were incredibly grim looking and it couldn't be good news. Morty had never spoken to a cop before and immediately thoughts of all the horrible things he'd done on any one of his and Rick's adventures flashed through his mind: smuggling Megaseeds, killing Intergalactic Federal Agents in an attempt to escape...he gaped up at the two cops and found himself unable to speak.

Thankfully the male cop spoke first, and kneeled down in an effort to be less intimidating, held his hand out to Morty, "Hi...My name is Officer Jackson. No need to be afraid lil' buddy," he said with an expression that betrayed his smile. "What's your name there, kid?"

Morty shivered against the cold and shrunk back a bit behin the doorframe, "M-Morty."

The cop inched a bit closer, nodding with encouragement, "Hi there Morty. Are you the only one home?"

Morty was about to answer when suddenly he was pushed abruptly aside with and Rick was in front of the cops in a flash. "I'm Rick. What URP can I do for you officers? Hope you were using some good scare tactics on the kid here," Rick greeted the two with aplomb before adding in a conspiratorial voice towards the Officer Jackson, "he's pretty, ya know, rebellious; a bad seed….staying up past his bedtime, getting in with the wrong crowds, you know how kids are at his age-"

"RICK!" Morty shouted, appalled, fists clenched with rage and face reddening with embarrassment, glowering fiercely at his grandpa.

"See? What'd I tell ya?" Rick rolled his eyes, "talking back already….kids these days!"

The two cops exchanged confused looks before the female officer stepped forward, "Um, Sir. Are you related to a Mr. Jerry Smith?"

"Unfortunately yes," Rick shrugged as he leaned indifferently against the doorframe, "he's my daughter's insufferably idiotic husband-who-let me guess-got himself in some real big doodoo, am I right? Biiiiig surprise! TYPICAL Jerry." Rick snorted and shook his head in disgust.

"Are Mom and Dad okay?" Morty piped up worriedly from behind.

"Morty-this is grown-up stuff," Rick abruptly shooed him inside, "go inside and do kid things, okay?"

"No!" Morty insisted, struggling against Rick's shoving arms, "I want to know what's going on!"

"Actually, kid," Officer Jackson inserted himself into the argument, "your grandpa here-" (Rick snorted with irritation at the title) "is right...we need to talk with him, uh, alone...why don't you find something to do and your grandpa can tell you more later…." Rick couldn't help but notice that the male cop-a huge guy, about 5'9, well built, could easily take anyone out in a fight, was….sweating. On a chilly November night. "Sir? Can we talk to you inside for a bit, please?"

Rick didn't like the sound of this. Jerry must have really fucked up big time. Figures.

Meanwhile, Morty was being a little piss-ant as usual. "I'm NOT leaving Rick!" The kid was standing right in their way, scowling with a pout like a petulant little child, his arms crossed in a huff.

The cops just stood there, watching, waiting for Rick to take charge. To do something…..adult. He detested being adult. The cops' eyes were on his back, watching his every move. His fingers ached to reach for the flask in his pocket, just waiting to be drunk. Rick knew Morty was worried but the kid would simply have to wait. "Morty stop being a little…" He swallowed the words that would have usually flown out of his mouth, and said calmly, "Just, get outta my hair for a while, alright? I gotta take, take care of this here, uh, bus, business."

Morty gaped up at Rick, eyes narrowed in a mixture of disgust and suspicion, but Rick simply crossed his arms and nodded in the direction of the doorway. Morty scowled up at Rick. "Since when do you listen to people like cops, anyway?" he snapped, before turning at once on his heels and stalking off in frustration.

"He's, just, ya know, uh….getting a little too uh, cocky for his own good," Rick found himself apologizing on Morty's behalf. Surprising himself-because, since when did he care what anyone thought, least of all law enforcement? It was one of the few times that Morty was right (not that he'd let Morty know he was, course).

"Sir," said Officer Jackson as they went into the living room.

"Rick," Rick insisted, "just plain Rick."

"This is my partner Office O'Shea," said Officer Jackson, addressing the short white woman with the huge nose and too much mascara and lipstick at his side, "we need to talk to you about Mr and Mrs. Smith…"

"What did Jerry do this time?" Rick rolled his eyes. What a perfect ending to a perfect evening. His high-pressure power suits weren't functioning as planned, and now he had to bail Jerry and his daughter out of jail. "This guy….he's, he's a real catch, ya know? Don't know what Beth was thinking, the man is totally beneath her, he's a cesspool of human DNA, he's just about as dumb as they come, I- I guess the sex was off the charts or, or something-"

"Sir...uh…." Officer Jackson coughed and removed his hat, leaning forward, "please listen...this is very serious."

There was no mistaking the seriousness in the officer's tone, and Rick paused mid-sentence and locked eyes with the cop, trying to decipher the expression. What he saw made him pause even further, because he saw what he could only describe as apprehension….and for a cop to be apprehensive at all was cause for concern.

Rick stared between the two cops. They both looked like they'd been through the wringer; completely exhausted. Spent. He'd never seen two more grim looking cops. Something clicked: whatever had happened, it was bad...and there was not going to be a simple fix for this one, unless he could work up some serious mojo. Rick held his breath and simply waited for the other shoe to drop.

And drop it did….

….right into the pit of his stomach.

"Sir...there was a three-car crash about an hour ago on Rt. 23. Does your daughter drive a station wagon with the lisence plate RC137?"

Rick froze that the mention. Those were the letters and numbers he'd chosen specifically for Beth's licence plate. They were the first letter of his first name, followed by the coordinates of his previous Earth dimension. He would know it anywhere. "What hospital are they at?" Rick asked dryly. He didn't take his eyes off of the cop that was talking.

"Sir, there's-something we need to tell you. There is no easy way to say this." Officer O'Shea spoke this time, and with the gentle caution that one has with speaking with a frightened child. Rick blinked with a rare moment of confusion; why was she talking to him this way? He wasn't a child, and he wasn't frightened. He wasn't anything really. He was just, well...there.

There, and listening to the cop as she put her hand on his arm. The moment she rested her hand on his arm, Rick abruptly stood up and brushed the hand away. He despised physical affection and there was no way this cop was going to pretend touching him would make things "okay".

"Sir," said Officer O'Shea, "When we arrived on the scene…" She took a deep breath and glanced sideways at her parnter for assistance. Rick's heart beat faster in spite of his reserve to remain still.

"...We didn't find any survivors," Officer Jackson finished.

Rick stared at the officer. His words didn't make any sense. They didn't even sound like English.

We didn't find

any

didn't ….We

didn't

find any

we didn't

find

any

survivors.

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you-" Officer O'Shea began but Rick cut her off, swinging around and heading abruptly into the kitchen.

"You guys want a beer? I've got plenty of the good stuff here in the URP fridge…"

"Sir-I'm not sure if you heard us right," Officer Jackson stood then, calling across the kitchen, "Please come back and sit down-"

"Reeeal good stuff," Rick continued from over his shoulder, "Can't find any of these babies in this pathetic excuse of a dim- dimension-"

"Sir?" Officer Jackson was now standing halfway between the living room and the kitchen, his voice tinged with concern, "We really need you to stay focused for us, um, here-"

"What's your poison?" Rick interrupted, "Malphorp's Brew? Scalewonker's Lager?"

"Sir-"

"I got 'em all, officers! Take your pick!" Rick had whipped around to face them both, holding several different colorful bottles of beer in his hands.

"SIR! Would you PLEASE just come back over here, and listen to us!" Officer Jackson was slowly losing his composure, and Officer O'Shea had joined him in the kitchen, "We just need to you to come and SIT DOWN with us. PLEASE!"

"Well, guess that's all the more for me," Rick shrugged as he snatched two beers and chugged from one heavily, while the two cops looked on in complete dismay.

"Sir…." Somehow, Officer O'Shea's arm was touching him again and Rick spun around and stopped her in her tracks with a glare,

"So- soorrry babe," Rick slurred as he purposefully dribbled drool on her uniform shirt, "but, you, you're just not my type…"

"SIR!" Officer Jackson had taken him by the shoulders in a meager attempt at steering him back towards the couch. "SIT!" Officer Jackson pointed down at the couch, and, frowning in between chugs, Rick abruptly sat, practically falling off in the process.

"Sir," Officer O'Shea whispered, "please...pull yourself together! There's a child here-"

"Ah, M-Morty caann handle himssself, he's, he's ah, a good kid," Rick slurred with abandon.

"Grandpa Rick?" OHhhh shit. Summer.

Summer had been listening in on the stairs. Now more than a little curious (and more curious than afraid), she made her way cautiously towards the two policemen and her, now, even-more-than-usual overly-intoxicated grandfather.

"Hi there, sweetheart," Officer Jackson stood and addressed Summer gently, "who are you?"

"That's URP SUGHmer," Rick blurted out before Summer could get a chance to get a word in edgewise. "THUGH daughter."

"You're Morty's sister then," Officer O'Shea nodded in acknowledgment.

"R-real sm-smarty pants over here, this, this one," Rick quipped, to which Officer O'Shea quickly turned and glared him into a stupified silence.

"Grandpa Rick?" Summer said, glancing worriedly between the adults, her voice filled with a rightful concern, "What...what's going on?"

"BaUD news, Summer," Rick belched noisily, "your paRUNTS are dead."

The words hung in the air like the eye of a storm. The two officers were staring at Rick in shock, as was Summer, who wasn't even sure she'd heard what she'd thought. Summer, your parents are dead. She had to be hearing things. No way had Rick just said those words. "Rick," Summer finally managed to utter, her voice shaking horribly in spite of herself, "What….did you just say?"

"Sweety," Officer O'Shea took Summer by the hand, and Summer, stunned, let herself be led. They sat her down on the chair across from Rick, the La-Z-Boy chair that her Dad always loved to sit in and watch TV.

"What's...what's going on?" Summer couldn't even recognize her own voice at this point. It sounded small and incredibly weak. Like a child's. "Where's...Mom and Dad…?"

"We don't want to have to tell you this, honey," the female officer said, "but...your parents were in a very bad car accident….they…." Officer O'Shea reached across and grasped Summer's hands, and Summer found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't let go, "they….didn't make it," the Officer told her.

Summer stared at the Officer sitting across from her.

She saw the Officer's mouth moving.

Sound was coming out.

No noise followed.

Then everything went black.