Hi so I just had my heart ripped out by binge-watching all the Rick and Morty episodes available so I figured I'd make a fix-it fic. This is just a fix-it for one of the many... MANY fucked up things in those universes, and this isn't even the fixing part yet. I'm currently writing this at around 2 in the morning and I have school... later on today I guess. But, that's not the point. The point is that I had an idea and I needed to get it down on my computer before I forgot.

If you've read this far in the Author's Note, I commend you. I don't own Rick and Morty. Trust me. MANY things would be different if I did.

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Mortimer C-137 remembered the explosion. He remembered the agonizing pain in his right eye. He remembered longing for the pain to just… stop. For everything to just… stop. But it didn't.

Looking back on it, he has absolutely no idea how he survived. A miracle, maybe. He didn't believe in miracles.

There was one "miracle" he was thankful for, however. His Rick fucked up. Majorly. Perhaps he had been sober when he built the explosive. Instead of destroying the entire planet like he had intended to, he only managed to put out Mortimer's eye and… well actually most of him. But. That could be fixed. It could be improved, even. He just needed the right… parts.

He didn't know if his Rick had survived. He didn't know whether he wanted him to have done so. He figured probably not. It was hard to tell, these days.

Speaking of days, how long had he been in this godforsaken DESERT, anyway. Without Rick's ship, he had to walk the long way back to his family's house. The wind blew sand in his hastily stitched up wounds, and he was pretty sure his eye was permanently sealed shut with dry blood. He was… uncomfortable, to say the least.

As he limped along, he thought.

He thought of so many things.

He thought of his parents, so infuriating with their fights over the obviously failing marriage. They were probably worried sick. He didn't care.

He thought of Summer, his bitch of a sister. He tried to recall a single instance where she had been kind to him. His mind came up empty. Still, she was most likely worried as well. He didn't particularly care.

He thought of Jessica, her pretty eyes, pretty hair, pretty figure. Pretty. That's it. She probably didn't care. Huh. They finally had one thing in common.

He thought of everything he could think of, and nothing at all.

Most of all, though, he thought about Rick. The more he thought about him, the more furious he became. The more furious he became, the more he thought about him. He wished with all his furious might that the old man had survived the blast.

After all, if he hadn't, how would Mortimer be able to kill the bastard himself?

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So in case all the references to eyes flew right over your head and scored ten points, this about Eyepatch Morty. Well, Eyepatch Morty's backstory, with a little something extra mixed in because I can't stand reading angst without a happy ending, and I certainly can't write it. So yes. If this doesn't become yet another abandoned fic of mine, I think this'll be pretty cool. What do you guys think, though?

-Rawrs, Lauradragon