Man, I gotta stop being sucked into these types of shows. Not sure it's helping my mental health. Anyways, I'm releasing the first two chapters simultaneously because I already had them done.
*TRIGGER WARNING* Mentions of suicide, actual suicide attempts, mentions of self harm, really ambiguous self harm? and lots of angst. What did you expect? You know my thought process when it comes to depressing characters.
"Mr. Sanchez, come in." The woman closed the door behind the pair. "And Morty. Good to see you again."
The two took a seat across from her. Morty spoke up first. "Just, um, so you know, Rick hates the idea of therapy and everything it stands for. I had to trick him into coming here today."
Rick nodded, sprawling his body in the seat. "That's true. He's a real piece of shit."
She took a breath. "Alright. Well, Rick, your grandson tells me that you're quite the scientist. What are some of the things you do?"
Rick shrugged. "Oh, you know. Interdimensional travel, weapons of mass destruction, transmutation, stuff like that."
She took down a few notes on her clipboard. "Interesting. Now, there is a particular machine that is concerning Morty. Some sort of immortality...?"
"Immortality field." Rick supplied. "Yes. I set it up just to surround my lab."
"And what exactly does this field do?"
Rick rolled his eyes. "It's pretty straightforward. It prevents death inside the field. I mean, you technically can die, but not permanently."
She nodded. "I see. And this leads to Morty's biggest concern. How exactly are you utilizing this field?"
"I mean, I work on some pretty dangerous experiments. I don't wanna get blown to pieces just because I tighten a screw too much."
"That doesn't exactly line up with what Morty says you have been using it for."
Rick pulled out his flask, taking a drink and ignoring the look of disapproval from the others. "What do you want me to say?"
"I would like you to tell the truth."
"Okay. I have been using it to kill myself without the consequences of actually doing it." Rick burped. "Is that what you want to hear?"
He glanced sideways at Morty. "You wanna say something?"
"What the hell!" Morty burst out. "Of course I don't want to hear that. I didn't ask to see it, either! But here we are." He huffed.
The woman nodded at Morty. "Good. Get your feelings out in the open."
"I just- I don't even know you anymore!" Morty's voice cracked, on the verge of tears.
Rick avoided his grandson's gaze. "Did you ever?"
"I've wanted to, damn it! But you think that caring about other people makes you weak and stupid."
"Rick," The woman began, "How long have you been hurting yourself, in whatever form that takes?"
Rick shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it started in high school. But, then again, who doesn't feel like shit in high school? I got better after I dropped out, but then I met my wife..." He shook his head. "She wasn't such a great influence. And when I finally got the balls to leave, it just got worse and worse."
She nodded, taking down another note. "What type of self harm was this?"
"I mostly cut. I tried burning a few times but the scars never healed right and it left a more noticeable mark." He waved his hands nonchalantly. "Hair pulling was also a thing for a while. Probably explains..." He touched the back of his head.
"And how long have you been using this immortality field?"
He thought for a moment. "I dunno. Almost a year, maybe?"
Morty bit back a sob, but it wasn't from sadness. It was anger. "If you- you're so set on killing yourself, w- why don't you just go ahead and do it for real?"
Rick finally looked at him. "Because I'm a coward, alright?" He snapped. "I'm scared. You know this. I can't- can't deal with that shit." His voice lowered. "I want all this to stop... but I can't make myself pull the trigger. It's a release, okay? It lets out all the aggression." He glared back at Morty. "And it's not like it's hurting anyone."
"Not hurting-?" Morty was shaking now. "You think I was thrilled to find you dead? How do you think Mom-or even Summer-would react if they knew?"
"Don't bring Beth into this," Rick growled.
"Oh, yeah. It's no big deal if your only grandson stumbles upon you shooting yourself in the head, but the idea of your daughter seeing it? Too far."
"Hey, I didn't ask for you to care!" Rick yelled at him. Morty was taken aback.
"You expect us to not? You're our family, Rick!"
"You say that as if it means shit to anyone."
Morty leapt out of his seat, tears falling as his hands shook. "I'm sorry that growing up someone pounded it into your brain that no one cares about you. I'm really sorry that you feel the need to project that on me. You know how many times I've been told that I don't matter? That I'm easily replaced? And I still for some godforsaken reason still think of you as my only friend and the best family I've ever had."
Rick was silent. The woman came over to Morty's side and helped him sit down.
"It's okay. This is the place to say everything that's bothering you."
Morty scooted as far away from the side of the couch Rick was sitting on. "I just... don't... understand." He looked up at Rick. "Why you can't understand."
"I don't understand why you care," Rick mumbled. "I sure as hell don't deserve it."
There were a few moments of dead silence. The woman looked back and forth from one to the other. "Rick, I would like you to imagine that the roles were switched. You stumbled upon Morty hurting himself. How would that make you feel?"
The thought sent a wave of nausea over him, along with flashes of memories buried by time and alcohol. "I..." He felt tears pricking at his eyes. He swiped a hand up to catch any that dared to fall, passing it off as a cough.
"I guess I would..." Now it was his voice that cracked. He shut his eyes, shaking his head. "It's my fault. All of it. I drove you to this. I should have been better. After everything we went through, I should have told you how much I... how much I cared. Now it's- it's too late."
Morty was stunned into silence. The woman furrowed her brow. "Rick?"
He was sobbing now, memories of the past flooding over him. He hid his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't- I didn't- and now it's... it's too late..."
Morty gingerly reached over and back a hand on Rick's back. "Rick..." he took a deep breath. "What happened to your first Morty?"
Rick looked up, expression unreadable. "Wh- what do you mean...?"
Morty struggled to get the words out. "I know I'm not the original. Have known for a while."
Rick shook his head. "Couldn't... live without you. Had to find you again." He took a shaky breath. "I know not all Ricks need a Morty, but... I- I don't know what I would've done without you."
"What happened?"
Rick swallowed. "I'm an awful person. I... I did... experiments... drove him to the brink..." He met Morty's eyes. "I didn't realized just how far I had gone until..." Rick shuddered. "There was blood everywhere. Can never forget. So much. And my precious Morty... gone forever."
Morty moved closer, pulling Rick towards him. "I'm sorry."
Rick scoffed. "Why should you be sorry? I- I never even learned my lesson. Still treated you like shit. Even though you were never him... you were the one that fit perfectly. Your real Rick didn't deserve you. He left with no intention of coming back. I... I need you. I can't show it well, but I do. And I don't deserve sympathy. I don't deserve kindness or love."
He pulled away. "You want to know why I do it? Because I deserve pain. Every time I hurt myself, it's just a glimpse of what I do to other people. But they don't deserve it. I do."
"You don't deserve it," Morty insisted. "If you can't accept is caring about you... c- could you at least try and care about yourself?"
And yes I just now realized I didn't give the therapist a name. To be honest, even if I gave her one it wouldn't add to the story.
Boost my fragile self esteem by favoriting, following, and reviewing! As they say in Canada, "Peace oot!"
