Author's Note: I've been in love with the Rick and Morty series, since, well, it first came out. The ending to season two however, has prompted me to write this. WARNING: This will be a more serious 'Rick and Morty', with a more...solemn view on the series. Characters may appear OoC at certain times, but this is fanfiction. You are free to comment and critique, and as always, enjoy reading!

Prologue - Wubalubadubdub

So many emotions raged in the expansive mind of Rick Sanchez.

To name a few:

Disgust at the people around him.

Rage at the situation.

Boredom from the bureaucracy.

That last emotion was apparent on his as he stared aimlessly into midair as he was carried roughly down the hall of the Zero-Vector Prison.

Not a word escaped his mouth, and his captors, two armored Groklamites, seemed not to care. Their appendages were locked around his arms so tightly that their sharp feelers were piercing his flesh. Rick gave no sign of pain however, and oddly enough, no sign of resistance or derisiveness.

'You're being pathetic, Rick.'

He pushed the thought away, but it nagged him still. He was used to acting out his thoughts. But now...

At the end of the hallway he was sat down in the room mark 'Prisoner Processing' in three languages, none of them English. The guards that had been with him didn't even bother to restrain him. And why would they?

Nobody had ever escaped from Z-Vec.

'Will you even try?'

It took every ounce of power in the genius' mind to swallow, and kick that though out of his head. Every fiber of his being told him to rebel, revolt, escape, be free. This containment was rotting him from the inside already.

'Take control. Grab a weapon. DO SOMETHING!'

His fingers twitched as an escape plan plotted itself out, unbidden, in his mind. It would be simple. The room was close to the entrance but defend-able. Groklamites necks were their weakpoint as Kombobulous Michael had shared once. Snap the left one's, grab his weapon, shoot the other.

The wiring running through the cables was basic Federation style tech. Rewire that to create a distraction; maybe let a few prisoners out?

Clockwork.

He was about to do it too. He was about to begin the escape. His muscles tensed. These bastards had killed so many of his friends, and in one day too! They'd made him destroy his tool to travel the planes of reality! They'd enslaved his homeworld, made it a carbon copy of all the tourist spots! In all the years he'd traveled the multiverse, nobody got under his skin (except maybe a certain brown haired piece of shit named Jerry) like them.

Escape. Stick it too them. Screw em! Fuck. Them. Over.

He started to move, his posture straightening, ready to act-

"That's not the point, Dad! We love Rick! ….For the most part."

He stopped.

"Yeah, you don't love people in hopes of a reward, Dad, you love them unconditionally!"

He relaxed.

"So let me get this straight, for the rest of your lives, no matter how much it hurts you, no matter how much it destroys our children's futures, we're going to do whatever Rick wants, whenever he wants?"

"YES"

"Whyyy?!"

'Because I don't want him to leave again you stupid asshole!'

He closed his eyes.

And he spoke a single word to himself.

'Stop.'

He wasn't doing this for himself, this sacrifice. He wasn't doing this to be noble. He wasn't doing this for any reward.

Rick was doing this for them.

As he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at a Craganian cyborg. Unlike the one that had been at his best friend's wedding, this one was one of the Federation's robotic drones.

"SORRY, I AM NOT STARING AT YOU. I AM TAKING YOUR MUGSHOT."

As Rick stared, unblinking at the robot, he felt great fatigue settle over him, a feeling he'd never felt before.

He was dully aware of it as he was unceremoniously ordered to strip, and change into his prison garb. He tried to fathom it as he was lead to the next part of processing. He was almost unaware of the sting in his tongue as the DNA/Imprint scanner took its reading. The tiredness ached all over his body.

As he was carried down another corridor, and he stumbled slightly, causing his guards to tense up and slow, the feeling finally was identified as a single thought rang out.

'I'm so tired...'

Not just tired. Exhausted. It was like he'd been drinking nonstop for decades, which, he practically had, and now he had to deal with the hangover. Only this time, he had to stop running. He'd been feeling the high of the chase for so long. He'd been going nonstop. Was this what happened when an unstoppable force met an immovable object?

'Now I have a reason to stop.'

At the realization, he was filled with...relief? Anger? It was hard to tell, he was so out of it.

Rick heard the clamps of the docking cell close around him, the bite of the needles and probes in his wrist and ankles, which would monitor his life signs and keep him healthy through intravenous fluid.

He'd never move again.

The cell rose to the levels above. He was becoming- had become, a number in the system.

He waited as the cell hissed into place. To his left, a voice spoke up.

"Hey, uh, what're you in for?"

At those words, Rick felt the finality of his situation close in upon him. He was going to die here.

He'd been defeated.

'Summer. Beth. Morty...'

They were all he could fight for now. He was in here for them.

And so he spoke.

"Everything."

Because that's what they were.