Soooo here is my newest fic. Hopefully it works out. And hopefully the science stuff sounds legitimate enough. Just warning ya'll, Rick and Beth in this story are way too intelligent for me to ever understand, so I'm just gonna try my best with their genius lingo and pray it goes well. Thank you for reading and see you next chapter!
Dimension: E-221
Planet: Unknown
Year: 2000 (in human years)
With a grunt, Rick wrenches the control lever to the right. The ship lurches in that direction grudgingly, letting out a groan of its own. Its driver winces, and he gives the ship's dashboard a few rough pats. "C- c'mon now, don't let me down."
As the tired vehicle swerves to the right, the continuous sound of gunfire erupts from behind the driver's seat. In the corner of his eye, Rick can see little pink bursts of lasers emerging from the back of the ship, exploding like miniature fireworks in the faces of their attackers.
"How ya holding up there, Beth?" he yells back to the wielder of the laser guns.
"Fine!" Beth answers. Immediately after comes an angered shriek from her, and then a vigorous round of lasers follows. "I think I almost got the last of them."
Rick sighs, allowing his relief to be displayed on his face in the form of a prideful smirk. He jerks the lever up, and the ship's nose points upward. The black, star-speckled endlessness of space cloaks them on all sides. Through the windshield, things would appear almost peaceful. Only the furious cries from Beth and the blips and booms of exchanged laser-fire reveal otherwise.
Just as Rick gets the ship levelled, the chaos behind him stops. The pink and green light show reflected in the windows is also cut off. The back doors of the ship are slammed shut. A second later, Beth walks up and collapses into the passenger seat next to him.
"You got 'em?"
"I got 'em," Beth affirms. She lets out a slow breath, resting her gun on her lap and shrugging off her gear. "Damned if they were persistent, though."
Rick notices her start to rummage in the clutter underneath her seat, and he spares her a glance. He doesn't even have to open his mouth for her to explain.
"One clipped me on the shoulder," she says, grimacing as she peels back a few grimy fingers to reveal a minor gash and a blood-stained tank top strap. "Not too bad." She produces a roll of gauze from under the seat and uses her teeth to tear off a piece, then wraps it around the wound. "Nothing to worry about."
"Of course there's nothing to wo- worry about," Rick says, rolling his eyes. "I've never had to worry about you. Y- y- you really hold your own out there, y'know."
Beth grins shyly in response, knowing that is the most praise she can expect from her father. "Thanks, Dad." She quickly transfers to another subject, using her good arm to comb through her raggedy hair with a set of fingers. "So, are we gonna find a place to stay for the night?"
"Um." Rick scratches the back of his head. Not for the first time, he feels the bald spot beginning to emerge from among all the tufts of graying hair, and once again he chooses to ignore it. "Whataya say to, uh, just drifting again?"
"Drifting?" Beth shrugs, hiding a wince from the use of her lame shoulder. "I mean… sure. If you want. If you don't think that's too risky or anything."
"Eh, we'll be fine," Rick insists. "We dropped off that shit-load of gromflomite larvae days ago."
Beth crosses her arms. "And clearly they're still after us."
He shoves one hand into his pocket, retrieving his flask full of miracle juice. He presses the drink to his lips for a moment, then says, "Th- there's no need to get all worked up over this, y'know. Those assholes are still such an underdeveloped species, it'll take years for 'em to mature, y'know. I'd be g- genuinely shocked if they even have the wherewithal to swallow food and wipe their asses. A real bunch of brain-dead gnats." He then tilts his head back, gladly absorbing the contents of the flask into his system like the alcoholic sponge he is.
"I don't know. I still feel too exposed just drifting like we used to before we were… well… wanted criminals," Beth points out. "Jesus, Dad, I mean— stealing thirty cases of gromflomite eggs was definitely not your best idea."
"M- maybe— urp— not, but who went along with it, sweetie?" Rick points out.
"If they're such a lame species, then why were you so fixated on destroying— oh, whatever," she huffs. "Are you sure we can't just stay with Birdperson for the night or something?"
Rick's head lolls so he can look at her. He still can't get over how strange it is seeing his daughter so roughed-up like this. He knows he shouldn't feel that way, because she's been like this her entire life. Hell, he raised her to encase her heart in an impossible-to-pry-open shell. He raised her to automatically kick the ass of anyone who gets too close for her liking. And yet something still seems off to him— her slender fingers calloused, never-been-manicured nails all torn and ragged like a shitty set of claws. Her thick hair once cascaded past her shoulders like blonde waterfalls, but as the years have gone by she's settled for using her fingers as a comb. Now her hair is nothing much besides a frizzy rats' nest. This still doesn't take away from her face, which remains as youthful and attractive as ever. Not a single visit to an alien bar has gone by without her getting hit on by a few horny idiots with dicks for brains. And now Rick realizes why he finds all this out of the ordinary— it's because she reminds him so much of her mother appearance-wise. Her mother never would've let herself get so unkempt and dirty. She hated going on adventures. And in that way, she had been nowhere near similar to their daughter. Beth, fortunately, got her mother's looks; and, unfortunately, she nearly matches her father in intelligence level. Rick both loves and hates her for those things.
"I'm p- positive," Rick mumbles around the leaking lip of the flask. "Now g'night, okay? Sweet dreams and all that shit."
Finally, he sets the old ship on autopilot, and he reclines back in his chair slightly. His eyelids are heavy like iron and quickly slide shut. He hears the sounds of Beth shifting into a comfortable position next to him, but she too soon falls silent. The next thing he knows, he's launched into a world even wilder than that of the open space: dreams.
oo0oo
Dimension: E-221
Planet: Earth
Year: 1980
Crash-landing the ship onto a bare patch of land had, at first, seemed like a lucky strike for Rick Sanchez. His last several seconds in flight had been a blur of screaming and actions taken without any consideration of the consequences to follow.
He was getting better and better at actions like that.
Zeroing in on their home planet had been easy enough with the technology in those days. It was just by absolute chance that they landed in the correct country, let alone state.
The ship was shaking as if it had been seized by a giant, tortuous hand. The vehicle ground up all the dirt underneath it, leaving behind a path of destruction and churned-up earth. Bits of grass and mud flew up around the windows, dirtying the already broken windshield. Even with all this happening, the only noise Rick was aware of was the loud, insistent screams of his wife right beside him.
When the haze finally left, he kicked open the door, dabbed around his head with a trembling hand for any signs of blood, then lifted his distressed passenger out of the wrecked ship and carried her across the remainder of the field to one of his most despised places.
A human hospital.
Any hospitals, of course, were already low enough on his list, but the shitty technology lightyears behind those of alien hospitals put this particular facility at the very bottom rank. If he had any other choice, any other option, he would've ensured that his firstborn child would enter the world in a much finer establishment. Hell, Rick would've delivered the kid himself if he had to.
But life seemed to have other plans for him, and thus his list of options was greatly narrowed down to just one: this stupid human hospital in Fuckyouville, U.S.A.
Bursting through the front doors, he ran up to the first desk he saw and immediately began sputtering information to the clerk.
"Hey, my wife— sh- sh- she's in labor, l- like five, six weeks early. I- I need you to- to- to take a look at her, y'know, make sure everything's cool and shit."
The clerk regarded him with a pompous air, shooting him and the panting woman gathered in his arms an unimpressed look.
"We'll take her in right away, sir."
Rick watched as she was loaded onto a stretcher and taken into a back room. Only one thought kept repeating itself in his head: this wasn't going as planned at all.
Well, then again, the kid hadn't exactly been planned either, but after a few months Rick grew used to the idea of fatherhood. He pondered the idea of his child possibly having a few extra brain cells than even him, and of working with them on future projects. Hell, if this little goblin was born with a brain comparable to their father's, maybe they could uncover the missing piece of interdimensional travel that Rick was currently stumped about.
Or not. This was all just speculating, of course. But deep down, Rick definitely registered some excitement about the whole becoming-a-dad thing.
As the number of hours since their arrival climbed, his mind grew more and more numb. The equations and problems he usually boggled his mind with to pass the time were all solved. He started to play with the idea of going to buy a drink, because there was no denying he needed it. Right as this thought struck him, however, a serious-looking nurse emerged and walked up to his chair in the mostly empty waiting room.
"Well?" Rick snapped, standing so that he towered over the woman. "What's the deal?"
"Mr. Sanchez, this is news I wish I never had to tell anyone, because nobody deserves to be told this," the nurse said softly. "But I'm… I'm afraid your wife passed away shortly after delivery. It seems she had been suffering from pre-eclampsia, which is often difficult to diagnose ahead of time…"
She droned on, but Rick stopped listening after a while. Now his entire body was numb. He couldn't feel his fingers, or his toes, or his face, or the beating of his heart. It was like frost had taken hold of him, gripping him with an icy set of jaws. He fell back into the chair, staring at the floor with his mouth hanging open. He resumed vaguely listening in to the nurse's spiel.
"… we did everything we could to save her. We are so, so sorry. Thankfully, the baby is fine, and—"
Rick sprang up again. "Wh- what?"
The nurse nodded. "You have a daughter, Mr. Sanchez. She is a little weak, but in stable condition. She's in very good shape for a preemie, actually. Would you like to see her?"
His head moved up and down robotically, and he wasn't even sure if he was in control of his actions right then. The switch in his brain was still set at "off." Fuck, he was so tired.
He was led down a couple long, white hallways. The nurse brought him up to a large window looking into a room. Numerous newborn infants were inside, a few being tended to by nurses. Rick was directed to a pink bundle squirming near the front.
"There she is," the nurse murmured. "I'd call her a fighter, but she really didn't have to fight for anything. She already had her life claimed and she's keeping a strong hold on it. My congratulations, Mr. Sanchez— and my condolences about your wife."
Rick barely registered an affectionate squeeze of his shoulder from the nurse before she walked away. He peered into the window, pressing one shaking hand against the glass. His unsteady exhales fogged up his view, so he stopped breathing for a moment.
Never before in his life had he focused so closely on a subject. That unnamed slumbering baby wrapped in a pink blanket was, quite obviously, all he had left. She was the last piece of his beloved wife. She was his only family. The blood roaring through her young veins was the only blood in the universe related to his. That tiny scrap of a human was his sole reason for living. Of all the things he had created in his life, she was the best.
Of course Rick couldn't tell anyone this. He didn't have anyone to tell, anyway. But as his grubby fingers continued smudging the glass, he knew that he, too, was all she had. And the pressure that placed on his shoulders was overwhelming.
oo0oo
Dimension: E-221
Planet: Unknown
Year: 2000
"Dad! Wake up."
Rick groans as he wakes, gradually becoming more aware of the abuse his shoulder is currently suffering. The sour glare he wears on his face does nothing to deter Beth from her prodding.
"Fuckin' hell, Beth, what do you want? I already t- told you what to do if we're about to be sucked into a black hole. Hit the— urp— gas."
"No, this is really important. C'mon."
He fully opens his eyes, and finds his daughter fully clad in her gear, with extra padding on her injured shoulder. "What?" he grunts. He feels the fingers of his left hand close on something cool and metallic, and half-grins as he drags that hand to his face and finds that he's already holding the flask.
"Put that down," Beth hisses suddenly, swiping the nearly-empty container away from him. It falls on the floor of the ship with an eardrum-piercing clang.
"Christ, Beth, I'm awake. What is it?" He struggles to sit up in the chair as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes.
Her cool blue gaze, which matches his atom for atom, are wide and excited. "I couldn't really sleep last night, so I decided to try and work on the whole interdimensional travel issue. And guess what I found out?"
"That it's im— urp— possible and we've been wasting our lives thus far?"
"No," she says sharply, her irritation at his flippant attitude masked by enthusiasm. "Look, Dad. You messed up your math here." She thrusts a battered notebook in his face, one finger repeatedly jabbing at a page marred with layers of eraser marks. "Just hear me out, okay? We already know to create wormholes into other dimensions, but keeping them open long enough to get through them— that's the part you messed up on!" Rick blinks hard several times until the scribbled writing on the page is legible. "You miscalculated the amount of negative energy needed, Dad. Right here." Her finger travels up the page to an earlier portion of the problem. "So this means—"
At last Rick fully sits up, catching on to her excitement and snatching the notebook out of her hands. "Th- th- this means— this means we're one step closer!" He slams the open notebook onto the dashboard, scanning over it meticulously with narrowed eyes. "Holy shit, Beth. Th- this is big."
"Yeah?"
"Hell fuckin' yeah." His hands are a blur as they hit various controls on the dashboard to bring the old ship back out of autopilot. "How about we land somewhere, get this old piece of shit fixed, and—"
"— and make interdimensional travel possible?" Beth asks. Her voice is so high-pitched from elation, it comes out as a squeak.
Rick sucks up some drool and plugs in some coordinates. "Maybe, sweetie. Maybe." Then he steers the ship down toward a distant planet.