Rick was drunk. So drunk. And yet, no drunk enough. His flask had been forgotten, and he was chugging straight from the bottle of vodka. His mind was too messy. There were too many feelings. He needed to block them out.

Four years ago, he had told Morty that depression ran in the family. Once Morty was better, Rick thought he was too. But it only got worse. Morty was eighteen now, had his own portal gun, and didn't need his grandpa anymore.

Rick hadn't realized just how much he depended on the boy. But now, it was becoming painstakingly obvious. Rick took another swig of vodka. Morty didn't need him anymore, so maybe it was time to set Morty free.

It wasn't as if anyone would miss him. Rick knew that Morty would just get another Rick from the citadel for the sake of Beth. For some reason, his daughter still loved him, even after all he put her through. He was a terrible father. He had tried to atone for that by being a good grandfather, but it seemed that with Summer away at the University and Morty busy with his own college classes he wasn't needed.

Rick knew what he needed to do now. He reached into his drawers and found a bottle of sleeping pills. He had been saving them for a science experiment, but it looked like there weren't going to be any more of those. Rick sighed, opened the lid, and poured the contents into his mouth. He washed it down with another swig of vodka. It was his time.

The bottle fell from his hand as Rick fell backwards into the chair. He dropped the vodka bottle, and it shattered on the ground. "Shit," Rick muttered. He wasn't done with that. Now, he had nothing left to drown out the pain until he faded away. He grumbled at the headache forming in his head.

Just then, he heard the door open and shut. It didn't bother him. Nobody ever came to check on him anyways. He only hoped Morty would find his note in time and get him replaced before Beth knew anything. He had put his daughter through enough. He couldn't put her through his suicide too.

"Hey, Rick, you home?" Morty called out. Thank god it was Morty.

Rick rubbed his temples again and wondered how long this was supposed to take. His head continued to hurt stronger and stronger, and he had to hold his hand over his mouth to keep from groaning in pain.

Black spots danced in his vision. "Rick? Hello?" Morty called out again. Rick sighed. Why couldn't the kid just leave him alone? It was his time, after all.

Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out his flask. There was still a little bit of vodka in there, enough to push him into a blackout.

Morty had just gotten home from his classes, and the whole house stank like alcohol. "Hey, Rick, you home?" he called out, already knowing the answer. Unless Rick was blackout streaking through the neighborhood again, he was shit-faced somewhere. Morty decided to go check his room. "Rick? Hello?" he called out, beginning to worry a little.

Rick wasn't in his bedroom, but there was an envelope with Morty's name on it on the bed. "Huh?" Morty wondered aloud. He picked it up and ripped it open, revealing the note hidden inside.

Morty,

I've enjoyed our adventures together. Thank you so much for being my little helper. But I'm afraid my time has come. Just do me a favor and get a replacement Rick for Beth. She doesn't need to be abandoned by her father again.

Rick

"Motherfucker!" Morty exclaimed as he ran to the garage, the second place he suspected Rick would be. He threw the door open, not caring about privacy. Rick was there, slumped over his desk, drool falling out of his mouth. The stench of vodka was strong, and he realized there was a puddle of the stuff next to Rick's chair. For a moment, Morty was relieved, until he saw the bottle of pills discarded on the floor.

"Shit!" Morty exclaimed, scooping it up and reading the label. It was some alien drug that he didn't recognize. He grabbed Rick's shoulders and shook him hard. "Rick!" he shouted. "Wake up!"

To his relief, Rick seemed to come to, then immediately emptied the contents of his stomach onto Morty's shirt. Morty was too anxious to be grossed out. "What did you take?" he demanded.

"Ssssleeeping piiiillllllssss," he slurred slowly.

"Damn it," Morty swore softly. There was only one place he could trust to make sure Rick was safe now, and he hadn't been there in four years.

"Come on, stand up," Morty ordered, supporting Rick with his shoulder. He fiddled with his portal gun, setting the coordinates that would he forever locked in his memory. He opened the portal, and, supporting his weak grandfather, walked through into the lobby of the best hospital in the multiverse.

"Help!" Morty exclaimed. "My grandpa overdosed." And probably has alcohol poisoning. But Morty didn't say that part out loud. Immediately, the nurses jumped into action, hoisting Rick up onto a stretched and moving him into one of their rooms. As Morty followed them, he shot a quick text to Liz.

Rick overdosed. At hospital now.

The doctor ran some kind of scanner over Rick's stomach, deciding if he needed to pump his stomach or not. "It looks like all the medication he took ended up on your shirt," he said, putting the scanner away.

"Thank god." Morty ran his hands over his face. Rick was going to be ok.

"We can keep him here overnight. We'll send someone in the morning to see if he wants to admit himself to the psych ward.

Morty checked his phone. He had one message from Liz.

On my way.

Morty leaned back in his chair and sighed. He pulled his shirt off and threw it in the trash. Trying to clean it was going to be too much. A nurse brought him a gray hoodie to cover up with while Morty waited for his grandpa to wake up again.