Author's Note: Inspired by the Season 2 finale/Season 3 Episode 1.
He had to get out of this cell.
xXx
Each day, he was fed one pill at breakfast, one at lunch, and one at noon.
One of those pills, he was sure of it, gave them direct access to his brain.
One of those pills helped simulate his mind into a sick and twisted reality.
One of those pills forced him to confess all of his darkest and deepest secrets.
They were sick and twisted fucks.
He had to get out of this cell.
xXx
They wanted his deepest and darkest secrets, but he was unwilling to submit.
They attached electrodes to his temples, and invasive metals to his wrists.
They watched him writhe with angony as they spit in his face.
They grinned with pleasure and satisfaction as he once again gave in, and told them everything.
He had to get out of this cell.
xXx
They made him relive his darkest moments, over and over and over again.
Each day, his wife left him. Each day, he lost his first Morty. Each day, he got a little more old.
He had to get out of this cell.
xXx
When he saw Morty standing there, he cowered in fear….and shook with shock as the kid bent down and threw his arms around him.
Was this real? Was it just another simulation? Perhaps it was all just a dream and he was dying slowly in his cell?
Whatever the reason, he didn't care, because Morty was there. Morty was there, and Morty didn't think badly of him. Morty cared. And suddenly, that was all that mattered.
"I love you Rick," said his grandson as he held on tighter.
He was free.
