Disclaimer: I don't own "Rick and Morty"
Author's Note: So, this is something new! I recently read KiranHeartsYou's AU story, "Still Alive". I won't spoil the details of that wonderfully written fic (though you will find some events in that story referred to here). I will however confess that at the end of that fic, I just wanted to hug Rick and take away all of his pain. This is my way of doing so: it's an inspired story born from the universe of that fic. And a personal gift to KiranHeartsYou: thanks for the stories dude, don't ever stop writing!
-Inside the Intergalactic Maximum Security Prison-
Night was falling. Inside, however, it didn't matter if it was dark or light outside, because the inmates of this quadrant of the prison would soon cease to exist.
So, this was how it was all going to end, Rick C-148 thought, as they brought him to a new cell pod in a new ward: the ward for death row inmates. It didn't matter though: he was through. Done with it all. He'd messed up way too many times, left too many lives completely ruined. The Federation had reminded him, once and for all, how wretchedly meaningless it all was in the end; how toxic he was, to everyone and everything he touched, or cared for, or maybe...dare he say even….loved….?
They'd stolen his horrible, awful memories for their own misuse, and left him a pathetic husk of the person he once was trapped in a decrepid, and useless, aging body. He was of no use to anyone anymore, except it didn't matter: he was on death row. In fact, he was actually relieved that it was all over….the Universe didn't need any more from Rick Sanchez.
It was okay. He was okay. The end was coming, but he welcomed it. Every fiber of his wretched being, every piece of his waking-and even sleeping-self (dare he choose to sleep, that is), was encapsulated in the unyielding, unforgiving, relentless grip of pain. He'd prefer it, actually, if they would just knock him out right now. Get it over with. Inject him with a deadly poison; let the bubble burst in his brain. Maybe he'd go out with a bang; perhaps they'd have some sliver of mercy on him and let him feel a tiny bit of warmth before...before….
It was no use. He was going to be electrocuted to death like all the others. His life, done: a piece of garbage to be thrown away. He didn't care; none of it mattered. Soon he wouldn't be there to care.
Inside the pod, he tried not to think about anything, but the pain would constantly bring him back to harsh reality. He could hardly feel arms and legs anymore; they'd long since fallen asleep, preparing for the inevitable. His head was killing him, and his throat was so parched from lack of alcohol that he could barely swallow. His stomach ached and screamed at him for food, but he hadn't eaten anything in days. His vision blurred and he yearned to rub the crust from his eyes, but his hands were in chains. He was at their mercy.
From the pod he could see only black-as black as the vast expanse of space. (They wouldn't give the inmates any relief from their minds, of course, by allowing visual distraction.) He might as well be in his own tomb. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of other inmates in the pods surroudning him clearing their throats or occasionally sobbing. It was the sobbing and moaning he hated the most; it only reminded him of his own sad fate.
Nobody was allowed to communicate between pods. If you did, you were immediately and sufficiently punished, and your death was sure to come quicker. Rick was almost tempted to start talking to whoever was around him, so that he'd be next. (At least he could have some kind of distraction from the madness that surrounded him.) Except….there was nothing to say, and he didn't know any of the other inmates, let alone who was in the pods to left or right of him.
It didn't matter; they were soon going to be in the same place he was: the electric chair.
Rick shut his eyes in an attempt to doze off, hoping for some kind of respite; though he knew he didn't deserve relief, not for the numerous crimes he'd committed; the lives he'd destroyed.
They'd all put their trust in him. He'd let them all down. He didn't care.
Without warning, Morty's face suddenly filled his inner vision, and Rick gasped out loud in spite of himself at the sight of his grandson's bloody face in his hands, watching as he shook and shuddered and took his very last breath-
Hey-hey you-what's going on? Are you -okay?
Rick sucked in his breath, trying to fight off the images filling his brain-what the hell? Was Morty talking to him, asking if he was okay? What kind of a stupid question was that? He shuddered at the sight of Morty lying in a bloody heap on the floor. Hey-who's the kid? I can see him-what's his name? What's yours?
Rick squeezed his eyes tight, trembling in the pod in spite of himself. This was just what he needed; a fucking nervous breakdown….dead Morty talking to himself in his brain-
SHUT THE HELL UP MORTY.
My name's not Morty. It's Ilana. Ilana Brady. What's yours?
…
I'm in the pod right next to you.
What the-hell….Rick's eyes snapped open. What the hell was this? His mind playing tricks on him? Trying to make him think someone was actually concerned for his well being in this madhouse? It had to be him; it was all in his mind. He was just hearing things….seeing things….seeing Morty, dead on the floor, crying out to him, unable to do anything to help-
Don't talk, they'll hear you.
He wasn't going to talk; that was a sure sign of insanity. Except, maybe it was better this way-why should he care if he'd gone crazy? He was done. He was soon to be no more.
I know you probably won't believe me, his mind said, but this is an actual person talking to you. I'm , well, not exaclty human, but….I'm telepathic.
Rick groaned inwardly. So his last waking moments would be bombarded with questions from either his own mind or some annoying female entity. What are you? he thought asked, hoping his feigned interest in the presence of this being would suffice.
I'm a Lorciathan.. We are a telepathic species from ten thousand lightyears away in another dimension on the planet Theros. I'm sorry if talking like this disturbs you. What is your name so I can properly address you?
He was probably losing his mind….but at the same time, Rick Sanchez had nothing to lose. Normally he wouldn't care to talk with just any old stranger, but this female voice had a strangely soothing affect to it that almost made him forget where he was. (Almost.)
(Might as well make up a persona and pass the time.)
I'm C147, he said (more for the purpose of his own amusement), from the planet Zeffron.
C147? The voice sounded genuinely curious (which he found even more amusing). Are those identification references or coordinates?
Both, he answered plainly, even though the question irritated him to no end. Why do you care?
How fascinating! Now, may I ask, who is this Morty?
The question caught him off guard; why would his own brain not know who Morty was? Could this actually be a living….being?
It doesn't matter, he said instead of asking why she cared. And it was true: it didn't. Morty was dead. Soon, he would be also. Everything else but a memory, a blip on the screen.
It must matter for you to respond in such a way.
Look, lady-why the hell do you even care? If this was an actual entity, she was really getting on his nerves. Look, he was my fucking grandson, okay? he shouted just to shut her up, and-I KILLED him! There. Ya happy? You got your answer. Now go and leave me the fuck alone.
You-you actually killed -your own-grandson?
Yeah, I killed him. Killed the whiny little brat. OK? So you can shut the hell up now and get the fuck out of my head.
A loud silence followed, during which Rick felt his dwindling breath rise and fall in rapid succession and his vision blur as though he were about to black out. They couldn't even let you have a fix on death row..
You didn't kill him.
The entity was actually arguing with him.
You are lying about your crime. Why ar eyou lying?
GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD YOU-you fucking BITCH!
I know what happened to him. To your grandson. Morty, right?
To hell you don't! His hands strained against the metal clasps with a fury he didn't know was in him.
He was killed by the federal agents who were looking for you.
Rick felt his breath quicken, his heart skipping and thumping wildly about in his chest. He wanted to scream, but his lips wouldn't move.
You took him to the hospital. You were there for him. You tried to help him.
I GOT HIM KILLED! his brain was screaming for him. I'm-I-I'm EVIL, OKAY? You don't know anyting ABOUT me! I'm TOXIC to everyone, if you come near me, I'll ruin your life! What the fuck do you care, anyway? We-we'll just both be dead by morning. What does ANY of this matter!?
He was trembling in his shackles; sweat was streaming down his face. The metal was chafing his wrists; they were beginning to bleed. Blood….on his hands, on the faces of everyone he'd ever cared for-ever-loved…. He felt a shudder envelop him and tears sprung from his eyes. He never cried-crying didn't fix anything-but it didn't matter; he couldn't help it. This bitch had even stolen his solitude from him-but he didn't even really deserve it.
Why are you in this prison?
He couldn't respond. It didn't matter. Nothing did. What did it matter?
Okay-I'll tell you why I'M here, in this prison…..
SHUT UP! He was still shaking, but his tears were spent, and he was beyond exhausted.
I was in a war. We were fighting, for freedom...I...I tried to help certain people, but-but they all turned against me. I had to kill them…..and their friends , they came after me. ….they almost killed me.
He didn't want to listen anymore. He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming.
They tried to kill me….but…..in so doing….they killed my entire family instead.
A groan escaped his throat with abandon; he was now just like everyone else in the room. FUCKING BITCH. GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD.
Her words...they hit far too close to home. Everyone dead….and gone...because of him. He hated her to no end for reminding him. He hated himself.
Now, I'm here, alone. Like you. I tried to save my family. They got away from me.
She was crying in his head now. He wanted to scream for her to stop, but he didn't have the energy anymore.
I know who you are, she said then.
His eyes popped open in horror.
…..Rick Sanchez.
If he hadn't been in shackles he would have killed her right then and there.
You are the whole reason I was fighting for freedom.
No-!….It almost escaped as sound, but his throat extinguished it before it could materialize as an airborn word
….we all looked up to you…..
…..Leave, please, just please leave me alone….
…..My friends and I knew all about you…
…..and we never gave up the fight…..
Her family, gone. More lives extinguished, ruined, because of him.
….We can take them, together, you and I…..
Was she really trying to rally him? Rick almost bit back a laugh. She had no idea how dangerous the Federation really was. Even if he did survive overthrowing them, where would he go? There was nothing left for him now.
All those Mortys out there need you, Rick….they are waiting….
…..I'm no good Ilana. I'm not who you think I am. I'm just a coward. I'm just….
….me. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks in the darkness. He let them fall.
…..He looked up to you. You were his one true friend.
…...He died because of me. They all did.
…..You were only trying to survive, Rick….Nobody should be holding that against you….
….We can take them together Rick….I 'm not just telepathic, I can hypnotize anyone who tries to sway me….
(And somehow, he was supposed to believe this?) ….Then why haven't you done so already?
…..Waiting. Waiting for the right time to strike.
He felt a sliver of what must be a cousin to hope begin to rekindle somewhere deep inside
…..You…
…..you really think you can take them?
…..With you by my side we can. Most definitely.. But only if you're with me, on my side, Rick Sanchez C137, Freedom Fighter extraordinare, the one true rebel who can free us all….!
He was dizzy with undefinable emotions. He'd never before felt so much at once. Was he ready? Could he do this? They had beaten him down to a place where he'd never thought he'd be: broken. They'd made him into an illusion; they'd messed with his mind. He could be falling for a trap right now and not even know it. This could all be a simulation, and he'd wake up tomorrow, everything was fine….
…..and Morty would be there, happy and ready for adventure.
Do it for him, Rick.
She was dancing in his head again.
Do it for the kid, so you can honor his memory. Do it for all of them. All of those you lost.
It suddenly felt as though a pin had let out all of his air, and he felt the blood charging like bullets through his veins. Yes, he would do it-for all of them.
For Beth, and for Summer….and yes….even Jerry. For Bird Person, for Squanchy, for all those he lost during the war….
...and for Morty. Especially Morty.
Because he still had those memories, the ones that didn't hurt….
...and Morty was the best part of him. The ONLY part of him that mattered.
And the only part that they couldn't ever take away.