I'd really appreciate feedback. It just seemed like Morty was pretty miserable before Rick came into his life, and that he wouldn't be able to cope well knowing that Rick- his only friend, and grandpa- was gone, and he was stuck to face reality without the escape their adventures gave him. Please review- tell me if it's too dark, or too OOC.

"A-a-aw man…." Morty muttered, trying to ignore the gaping feeling of emptiness in his chest. He tried to curl even more against himself, but he was already curled up like a cat, bent nearly double. All he wanted was to disappear.

School had been getting worse. Mostly, it'd was bearable- he only really went half a day or so, before Rick pulled him out on some hair-brained adventure. But Rick was gone- he'd been gone for nearly two weeks, and things were beginning to spiral out of hand.

School was a constant battle- Jessica had only noticed him when he'd been tripped in lunch and landed face-first in his lunch tray of goulash, he'd been beaten up in the locker room three times, and he was constantly on edge in the hallways, since he'd always be shoved, tripped, or have his books knocked out of his hands when he least expected it.

He could barely function, that was how bad things were. He panicked when someone touched him, expecting to be thrown into the wall like they were the school lockers, called a retard, or spat on.

His parents were fighting more, too- and it wasn't about the usual stuff, either. He knew his mother had noticed he'd been coming home with bruises, how miserable he'd been lately, and his Dad was on the verge of moving out.

He couldn't help but feel like a burden to them- normally, Rick was busy taking care of him, but now, he just felt like a strain on his parents' already fragile marriage. It was all falling apart.

He was shaking and crying, he realized, and he closed his eyes and felt the disgust running through him. W-w-why do I have to be so w-w-weak? So slow? 'Special'….

Rick had been gone for two weeks. Normally, he'd be able to handle it- Rick was unpredictable and erratic, at best, and he was known to disappear for a few days without explanation here and there.

But two weeks was far too long- his life had absolutely gone to shit- and he was exhausted, so tired of dragging his ass out of bed with nothing to look forward to, no place to feel accepted- yeah, Rick was a jerk, but he treated Morty well, like his own, actually. He hadn't realized how much Rick's sci-fi adventures kept him stable until he was gone….

It was nearly one in the morning. His parents were asleep, and he wasn't sure whether to be thankful or hurt they didn't even care enough to check on him. What the hell was going on in his life?

He got to his feet, an idea striking him. He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve, hugging himself defensively as his feet padded down the hallway quietly, before he reached the garage. He'd gotten an idea- just because Rick was gone, didn't mean he couldn't communicate with him. Rick had to have some sort or radio device with him, he'd be able to find SOMETHING in the garage so he could contact him and figure out when his grandpa would be back….

He sat down at the workbench, pulling a rumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and following the instructions he'd carefully written down. He'd seen Rick use the scanner before, to check for Ricks from other dimensions, and he carefully hit the buttons, waiting as it compiled a list of the various Ricks….

He blinked, bleary eyes searching the screen hopefully.

Rick-201, Rick-202, Rick-204….

He bolted forward, staring at the screen, shocked.

"No…."

He wasn't there. His grandpa wasn't showing up. He went over the list until his vision went bury, but his Rick, his grandpa, was nowhere to be found.

"No! No, no, no…." he paced the garage frantically, kicking out at the garage wall in frustration, surprised when his foot went through the drywall. He'd never been that strong before, but adrenalin and despair ran through his veins as he sank to the floor, pulling his legs to his chest and burying his face in his knees, struggling to just breathe….

The scanner showed EVERYTHING. All Ricks present at the moment- if Rick wasn't showing up, that meant he was dead….

He buried his face in his knees and wept. His grandpa, the only friend he'd ever really had- was gone.

He fell over onto his side at some point, and eventually he was out of tears, just lying on the cement floor, eyes sandy, muscles aching, unable to gather the willpower to move. His grandpa- the only bright part in his life- was gone.

Somehow, he summoned the resolve to stagger to his feet, managing to fall into Rick's chair.

His blurry vision settled on the desk before him- there was an empty beer can, a screw driver, some unfortunate gadget his Grandpa had been half-way through taking apart, and a few scraps of paper….

One in particular caught his eye, and he snatched it up like a lifeline, bloodshot eyes scanning the spidery handwriting desperately….

Morty- had to leave. Intergalactic bullshit and stuff- I should only be gone for a few days. See you soon, you little shit.

-Rick

He read the note over and overt- it was dated two weeks ago. Rick had said only a few days, the scanner hadn't picked up his grandpa- which meant only one thing. His grandpa really WAS gone. He stared at the wall for an hour, the knowledge just sinking in. His grandpa was really gone.

He took a shaking breath, trying to think rationally- he could find another dimension, one where the Morty was dead, and take his place….

But he already knew it was bullshit. He'd had a hard enough time adjusting when he and Rick had had to change realities the first time and take the place of their dead counterparts, and he knew there was no way he'd be able to assimilate himself without Rick….

The universe just wasn't cut out to have him as a Morty. Every Rick needed a Morty- but every Morty needed a Rick, as well.

He stood up with grim resolve, realizing he couldn't go on without his Grandpa. He'd been given hope, freedom- yes, it'd been scary, but adventuring with his Grandpa had been the only bright spot in his life, and he couldn't cope living without it, without him, now.

Luckily, even someone as 'special' as him knew how to off themselves. He felt numb- he wouldn't really miss this place, not really. Rick had been the only thing he'd truly cared about, and with his only friend gone, there didn't seem to be much to live for here, anyways.

That was all he was thinking as he numbly shuffled over to Rick's liquor cabinet, pulling out a few bottles and setting them on the desk before shuffling inside, raiding the medicine cabinet and shuffling back out, dropping the rattling pill bottles beside the booze. It'd be painless- hell, even if it did hurt, he wasn't really sure he'd care. He was so numb at this point, he'd take any way out.

He idly wondered about his family- they were nice people, yeah, but they were never his. As long as he could remember, he'd been Grandpa Rick's- and nothing was going to change that. He wouldn't live in a place where he was 'special', and nobody could love him like his Grandpa had.

Still- he couldn't just DIE without a reason. He at least owed them an explanation, and he sat down at the desk, pulling out a paper and a pen, scrawling down a quick note, before he returned to sit cross-legged on the cement floor, opening a bottle of booze and filling his palm with pills.

He took a deep breath. "See you soon, Grandpa." Was all he said, before he threw back the pills, swallowing it down with a generous mouthful of booze.

His throat burned, but he took another swallow anyways, struggling to hold back the sputter coughs as his eyes watered. He had no idea why Grandpa Rick had liked this stuff, but when the buzz started to hit him, he realized it wasn't so bad.

Just like going to sleep- you'll wake up with Grandpa Rick.

He shoveled down another handful of pills, and another, and before he knew it, half the bottle of whiskey was gone, and in his stupor he spilled the rest and was left fumbling to open another bottle.

At some point, he began to shake so badly he couldn't even open the child-proof caps on the pills bottles- he didn't even know what he'd been taking, and he ended up spread-eagle on the floor, watching his vision begin to fade. The struggled to lift the bottle to his lips again, it was so… heavy….

He downed another swallow before he lost his grip and the bottle hit the floor, splintering into shards of glass.

He finally gave in, letting the darkness that'd been creeping into his vision take over, and the murky waters of unconsciousness to pull him under into her sweet embrace. He didn't regret a thing as he was enveloped by blessed blackness.