Notes: English isn't my native language. I've spellchecked this story with Grammarly and Google but I know it can be not enough, therefore, I apologize for any mistakes, inappropriate choice of words or wrongly built sentences that may have been left unspotted. Hope you enjoy nonetheless!

UPD: Thank very much to SilenceintheGraveyard for beta-reading! I'm really satisfied with what you've done with this text.

Morty had never looked at his grandfather through rose-colored glasses, nor had he ever pretended to admire him after those innumerable adventures, full of massacres, murders, and robberies. He knew his grandpa was selfish, arrogant, cynical, misanthropic and unreliable; he'd lost count of times when he had gotten into trouble and suffered because of Rick; most of their adventures were too dangerous for adults, not to mention teens—and Morty still was a teen—and he could remember many times when Rick had exploited, deceived, or left his grandson behind. The perils faced in the action TV shows they sometimes watched together paled in comparison to the ordeals Morty endured because of Rick. So, without a doubt, Rick was an egoistic asshole, and Morty truly wished some of their adventures had never happened.

But that day was the last straw. Hundreds of vials filled with memories that Rick had taken away from him and placed there, many of them without Morty's knowledge, many of them containing memories of how Rick had fucked up-Morty was shocked. And angry. He threw himself at Rick in that room of stolen memories, fury overwhelming any other feeling in his heart. Stupid, egocentric asshole! Old fucking dick, how could he…!? Morty fought Rick, and Rick fought right back. Even after Summer came in and dragged them away from each other, Morty's wrath didn't fade away. He resented Rick. He felt hurt and pitiful. Of course Rick had hurt him a shit-ton of times before but this time it was just so shitty and Morty felt so stupid about it that he physically couldn't stop being angry with Rick. At school, for perhaps the first time, he passed by Jessica without looking at her because all he could think about were all those memories, his own memories. How Rick had used him, how he had lied to him, considering his grandson to be just a little dumb boy, and the more Morty thought about it the more he felt telltale tears welling up in his eyes.

Rick himself, however, seemed not to notice his grandson's anger—or, more likely, he pretended not to. He fiddled with some of his scientific stuff in the garage all week, and Morty went to school every day. They only went on two adventures. Although Morty was sulky and reluctant to go with his grandpa, he went anyway, the room of memories at the periphery of his mind. Now, he watched Rick warily every time they were somewhere off-world, ready to fight if Rick screwed up and tried to erase his grandson's memories again. It never happened. That weekend Rick was off for some off-planet party, not taking Morty with him. He just said, "I'll be i-in a d-day… may-BUURP-be in two, M-Morty" and disappeared in a portal. Morty had watched him leave with irritation—he could bet that Rick would get shit-faced and he, Morty, would of course be the one who would have to deal with his grandpa's hangover. Again. Great.

Morty stood alone in the garage, sulking. Rick never gave a crap about him. What else, he asked himself, had Rick been storing in those vials without his grandson's permission or knowledge? Some memories of how Rick had given him a blunt and laughed at him strung-out? Rick's perpetual screw-ups that he had erased from his grandson's memory, too arrogant to admit that even he made mistakes? About...

The more Morty thought of what the other memories could be about, the tenser he became and at the moment he was about to spit on Rick's desk, he suddenly came up with an idea…

Morty knew the garage like his own room if not better; when Rick was drunk and not able to find something, it was Morty who would find a necessary tool or detail. He also knew Rick well—well enough to be able to find out how to open the door to that room. It was quite risky, considering that Rick could come back any second and walk in on him. But Morty was too determined to care.

A variety of multicolored vials met him wordlessly from their shelves when he entered the room. How many times, Morty wondered, creeping for some reason, had he been here before?

The boy walked past shelves, frowning and trying to recall what color memories about Rick's screw-ups were. Blue or red? Or pink, maybe? Okay, there are three of them, Morty decided, so he can just try on each and find out—

Suddenly, the boy caught a glimpse of something and came to a halt in front of one of the shelves. Lots of pink memories were there, but they weren't the reason he had stopped; his attention had been drawn by a flash of green—and he certainly didn't remember Rick saying anything about memories in green. He frowned. Morty crouched down and saw a box of forest green vials. Not surprising he hadn't noticed them that time—the box was shoved into a dark corner, barely noticeable.

Morty remembered that there were memories of his own fails, Rick's, and his family's, sorted by color. Were these green ones about some outsiders then? Rick must've hidden them away because they were the least interesting to him. Probably a waste of time for Morty, as he was here to learn the truth about the memories Rick had been hiding from him. But he felt a pang of curiosity and, after hesitating for a moment, pulled the box from under the shelf and took one of the vials.

"Well, it shouldn't take long," Morty mumbled to himself trying to recall how to turn the memory player on. He hadn't done it before—or probably had, but Rick had erased that memory—but he was accustomed to all the old man's scientific stuff and was able to grasp the way it worked after years of practice.

Switch!—and Morty felt a familiar feeling of falling into somewhere.

It was warm. Warm and very, very good, as though he had been pulled into a hug. He smelled a well-known scent of old clothes and booze and opened his eyes. He nearly went blind with bright whiteness everywhere, his eyes burning from too much light after being in the cozy dark. Morty blinked rapidly and let his eyes adjust to the light—and then, he realized it was snow. Everything around was an immense white expanse of snow.

The boy raised himself up with his elbow and saw Rick hunched over his spaceship's engine.

"You up?" Rick shot him a look over a shoulder. "G-Good, will help me with th-this shit."

"Are we not on Earth?" Morty sat on what turned out to be a log, looking around and seeing nothing but the glaring infinite of snow.

"Yeah, M-Morty. The portal gun's run out of battery, the fucker's broken and we're stuck on thi-UURP-is fucking planet."

With these words, Rick kept fiddling with the engine, saying nothing else.

Slow after sleep, Morty stood up and something immediately fell off his shoulders, like a blanket or something, leaving him to shiver slightly from an abrupt chill. He looked down and was surprised to find it was Rick's lab coat—and Rick, he just now noticed, was not wearing it. The boy picked the coat up from the ground; it was still warm from his body and reeked of whiskey. He breathed in the smell against the thick fabric.

"Rick?"

"W-what?"

"Y-y-you covered me with y-your lab c-coat while I was asleep?"

His grandpa spun swiftly to eye him. "Didn't e-even didn't notice. You know, y-you gotta help me with this if-if you d-don't wanna get stuck in this fucking Santa Claus' land for-UURP-ever, M-Morty."

But Morty didn't budge. He looked at the lab coat in his hands, slightly baffled, then at Rick, then at the coat again. It was so unfamiliar to hold it and feel its warmth on his fingertips, and the boy remembered how Rick had always loved it and refused to give it to Beth for washing. "Y-you could have turned on the h-heater or some other smart scientific d-d-device…" he stuttered pressing the coat closer to his chest for some reason. "B-but you… you chose to cover me with your f-favorite lab coat."

"Fuck," Rick swore under his breath turning back to the engine. "I w-wasn't even cold, M-Morty, I just threw it o-on you b-because I didn't need it. Stop talking and come over here to help me with th-this crap!"

Obedient, Morty came over and held the wires that needed to be held while Rick practically folded himself in two fiddling with some components inside the ship. Then, after pulling his head out of there, the old man took a long swig from his flask. "I've almost fixed it, M-Mor—" he said with a smile when Morty interrupted him.

"Y-your hands," the boy noticed, "they're shivering, Rick. A-and very cold," he added after touching his grandpa's palm quickly, its skin faint blue and full of fine wrinkles.

"And what? H-here's snow everywhere, M-Morty," Rick said in an edgy voice, conspicuously avoiding looking at his grandson.

"S-so you are cold."

Rick seemed to begin losing his patience. "W-what are y-you—"

Feeling much happier in a moment, Morty couldn't suppress a grin. "So you were cold and you still gave me your lab coat. Wow, Rick, so nice and c-cute, Summer will be jeal—"

"Fuck!"

Disgruntled, Rick cut off his grandson and dived into the spaceship for a moment, then straightened back holding something in his hands.

"Rick?" Morty never finished the sentence, casting the older man a wary look. Rick said nothing, his face frowning and tiny icicles shining on the tips of his hair. He only pointed the unfamiliar thing (was it some kind of a gun?) at him slowly, and Morty suddenly realized how tired Rick looked in that moment. Tired and old, his eyes strangely darkened with something Morty couldn't name.

A shiver ran through his knees and the boy stepped back, realizing he had said something wrong.

"G-geez Rick, y-y-you're scaring me…"

"I'm sorry, but you made me, Morty," his voice hoarse and somehow bitter, Rick shot, making Morty reel, and the bright whiteness turned into full-out darkness.

Morty pulled the memory player off his head, his eyes wide open from what he had just seen. Rick had covered him with his lab coat? This itself was quite untypical for him but what actually bothered Morty the most now was why had Rick erased this memory, even though bad or shameful hadn't even happened in there?

The boy looked helplessly at the box with vials in green. Rick hadn't shown or told him about it despite the fact that memories in blue, pink, and red seemed to be way more traumatizing.

Feeling a little lost, Morty hadn't come up with anything better than taking another green vial and drifting into its memory, just curious if it would be also this weird or not.

He couldn't see anything. All was dark and blurry, and he felt as though he was falling but wasn't able to scream, or say a word. There was only pounding, all-consuming pain, and all he craved was to stop feeling that pain. Stop, please stop, so much pain, oh goodness stop please…

"Morty…"

Where—?

"M-Morty…"

Indistinct, but so familiar voice…

"…r-really fucked up this time, M-Morty," a quiet sob. "Fuck, I'm so, so sorry, k-kid…"

It was Rick. And although Morty couldn't see him in the ominous darkness—he could barely hear him through the sharp pain—he thought Rick sounded rather perturbed and upset. The boy tried to focus on his grandpa's voice, which wasn't easy considering the queer fuzziness he was drifting in.

"…am an asshole… f-fuck, M-Morty, stupid alien d-d-diseases, you little pussy… I'm sorry, k-kid, I'm so, so sorry…"

Rick's voice was harsh, with a tinge of bitterness and regret which Morty was not accustomed to. He wanted to tell his grandpa that everything's okay, but he couldn't— no limb seemed to be able to move— his tongue went numb—

"I know you can't hear me, Morty… dunno if the antidote will work," Rick sobbed somewhere far-off. "F-fuck, kid, you… you-you're all I have, Morty… can't lose…"

His grandpa's voice painfully sincere and heartsore, the boy felt the blood run through his heart. Damning everything—the dark, the pity in Rick's voice, the numbness—he pulled himself together trying his hardest to ignore the pain, and eventually pried his eyes open.

"I-I'm okay, Rick," the boy said quickly after Rick's eyes had widened at his sudden waking. These eyes were strangely red, the older man's face glittering with tears trickling down his cheeks.

Morty still felt strong pain and realized he wasn't mobile at the moment but smiled weakly nevertheless. "Y-you— you do care about me…"

Rick looked relieved which was very unusual for him. Quickly, as though someone could walk in on him, he pressed a wet kiss on Morty's forehead leaving his grandson utterly shocked with this move.

"Of course I do, you little shit," Rick said feebly, serious and earnest, and wiped his face with his lab coat's sleeve.

Morty was too exhausted from the weakness in every limb and joint so he simply smiled at his grandpa, forgetting about the pain, and feeling some kind of pure happiness forming inside his chest as he and Rick eyed each other.

"I-I—," Rick's shoulders slumped abruptly. Morty wanted, really wanted to give his grandpa some pep talk but had to close his eyes as it was becoming too painful to keep them open. "I'll do everything for you to get well, kid, now you got grandpa's promise. And—" the older man's voice broke as he sniffed quietly. "And I'm sorry, Morty. I'm sorry."

Completely startled, Morty opened his eyes. He was in the room of memories again but still had the afterimage of Rick's sad face in his head and practically could hear his unusually bitter voice. It was not something he had expected to see at all so now Morty just gawked at the rows of multicolored vials, trying to comprehend the whole thing.

"You're all I have, Morty…"

He'd never heard such words from Rick, never could he even imagine that Rick was able to tell him something like that with sincere sorrow in his voice. Maybe Rick had edited the memory? But what would he do this for if he had been hiding it among the other memories in green and not showing them to his grandson?

Morty found his palms covered with sweat and felt his legs heavy, barely able to stand steadily. Without thinking, he seized another vial as if it was the most desired treasure in the entire multiverse—

He restored the green memories one by one.

Each of them was about him and Rick, sometimes about the other members of their family.

A memory about Rick turning himself in on some planet although it was actually Morty who the local police were after.

A memory about Morty walking in on his grandpa crying over a picture of Beth—

There were not so many of them, memories in green, unlike those in red, pink or blue, but each of them would astound Morty more than all differently colored memories together. They didn't last long but they were the rare moments of Rick's sincerity and public display of attachment, and they were the moments when Morty felt valued and important for the only times in his life.

After he had finished restoring all the green memories, he started re-watching them, over and over and over, desperate to catch those short moments when Rick had randomly hugged him, or told him something nice, or helped or saved him or whatever.

Why… why had Rick erased these memories? Why had he been hiding them? Shit-tons of times Morty had thought Rick didn't give a rat's ass about him, but, had he remembered Rick being so kind to him, he would be way happier and calmer and not mad at Rick, so why? What for?

Morty only stopped re-watching the memories when he felt hot tears running down his face, leaving perceptible streaks on his cheeks. As the room around him went blurry and a tremor ran through his hands, the boy put the vials back into the box and sank down to the concrete floor.

"W-why, R-R-Rick," he stammered quietly, and pulled his shaking knees to his chin, "why did you do this to me—"

"Because memories can be dangerous, Mo-BUURP-orty."

Morty turned around instantly and jumped to his feet as he saw his grandpa standing in the doorframe.

"R-rick, you you-you're not at the party?"

"It was a trap, I shot the douchebags," Rick said, coming over. He was hunched, his eyes half-lidded. "Seems you managed to open the door by yourself and even found the green memories. G-good… good job, M-Morty."

"Geez, Rick, I-I didn't mean to—"

"Don't apologize," Rick cut him off straight out. "I shoulda known… you've restored them all, haven't you?"

Abashed and a bit regretful, Morty decided there was no use trying to get away with it. "Y-yes, Rick. And… why?" he asked timidly and looked up at his grandpa.

He felt no wrath anymore, nor irritation. Instead, the boy suddenly thought that he had screwed up loads of times before as well. And all their family had—otherwise they couldn't have gotten rid of those parasites that were only able to create good memories. People make mistakes and mess up and sometimes are being selfish dicks, he reasoned—they're people, after all, not robots. Albeit robots can be selfish too, especially if they have a passion for alcohol.

Rick said nothing. He crouched down to push the box back under the lowest shelf, then straightened up and sighed, keeping his gaze away from his grandson.

"Rick?"

"The universe's a weird place, M-morty," Rick said finally.

He looked tired.

"A-a-and attachment in this place can be dangerous, Morty. I didn't want you to attach too much so I erased the best memories abo-UURP-about me from your memory. That's the point."

"What? What the hell Rick?" Morty blurted out. "I-I-I do see the point in erasing bad memories but—"

"Because hundreds of people in the multiverse are after me, Morty!" Rick unexpectedly turned on his heel, crying the words straight into Morty's face. There were shadows under his eyes. "A-and most of them aren't even fucking people! And if you're still too dumb to understand, one day they can learn I have grandchildren and try to use your attachment to me to make you tell them what they want!"

Morty stepped back, caught off guard, his eyes wide open with shock. "G-geez Rick, you mean… you mean—"

"I mean they're stupid turds! Fucking stupid turds!" Rick shook Morty's shoulders, slobber on his chin. "A-a-and they will torture me in front of you to make you tell them all my secrets or whatever the fuck they want! A-and if you're attached to me, you will!" Rick's face went paler than usual and he shook the boy's shoulders once more making him cringe. "And they will torture you in front of me, Morty, if they learn how much I love my grandson and how much I'm ready to do for his safety!"

With these words, the older man shut up.

Morty only stared at him wordlessly as he was trying to comprehend everything he'd just heard. He was pressed uncomfortably into the shelves but he had no time to dwell on it—actually, he couldn't think of anything but Rick's words. Rick… had just said he loves him? He really had?

Morty's heart beat frantically.

"S-so— this— this all was— f-f-for my— for my sake?"

"Fuck, Morty," Rick rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "Yeah, like I just said, it was."

Morty cast a brief glance at the other multicolored vials. Unbelievable, but Rick didn't look drunk at all and as the boy mulled over the whole thing, he realized this sounded reasonable and logical and explained Rick's behavior by far better than any of Morty's speculations.

"But… but you erased bad memories about you, too," Morty said, feeling something warm, extremely pleasant and nice welling up in his chest.

"Well," Rick scratched his nape, "I didn't want you to think your grandpa's a complete asshole, either."

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Then, overwhelmed with sudden happiness, Morty couldn't help but smiled. At once, he threw himself at Rick and squeezed the older man's scrawny body with his arms tightly.

"What… what the hell are you doing, M-Morty?" Rick burped, astonished by this gesture.

"Hugging my grandpa, who rules," Morty mumbled against his chest relishing the moment as much as he could. "A-a-and those aliens who're after you, they really suck. F-fuck them. They'll never catch you because you rule and they suck."

Soft silence reigned the room.

Then, timidly, Rick's hand found Morty's back, hesitated for a heartbeat and eventually patted it.

"Y-you know what? That's the spirit. And and and you're a good kid, M-Morty. N-no matter what. Just… just don't forget that."

"I won't," Morty promised, hugging the older man even more tightly and then letting go of him. He couldn't stop smiling and Rick, to his surprise, couldn't do so either.

"Come watch TV? We can call Summer, y-you know, tear her away from her phone, and make popcorn and like, I don't know, just watch some funny interdimensional channels?"

"G-good idea, M-morty. Lemme just find my flask…"

Morty smiled as Rick fumbled about in his lab coat's pockets, and then went out of the room, leaving behind bad memories he had never restored—and he didn't want to anymore. There were much funnier things to be occupied with, and there were two great school-free days which he could spend with Rick, his grandpa and best friend, and he definitely wasn't going to miss the chance.