To Waste A Breath On Words

"Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heart breaking stupidity of words."

-William Faulkner

Summary: Rick and Morty go on another of their adventures, except this time something happens which causes Morty to shut down and refuse to speak. Rick finds himself pressed to fix it before he loses Morty.

Warnings: Stays T, nothing explicit in description. Allusion/innuendo to assault. The 'F' is capped as 'friggin'' but there is still language. Multi-chapter fic. No beta, grammatical mistakes ahead. Set prior to season 3.

A/N: I've fallen in love with this show, with its wide spread of humor, strangely philosophical and human expressions, and extremely appealing cast of characters. It's not usually my cup of tea, but here I am.

Rick glared at his surroundings, annoyance peaking as he saw a Rick from another dimension shoving merchandise of Morty into the faces of some other Rick's. His own Morty was trailing behind him, eyes wide as they were every time they came to the Citadel of Ricks. For once though, they had traveled here of their own free will. The citadel of Ricks was the safest place in the multi-verse if you could get in and were welcome, there wasn't a better place to have an illegal arms deal, something which Rick C-137 had arranged with a buyer here.

He stopped suddenly and Morty walked into him.

"S-stay here, Morty, s-stay at that-that, the stupid cafe, stay there till I come back, Morty."

Morty frowned, looking over at the Rickbucks store, he was about to say something in response but Rick shoved some Rickcash into his hand.

"Go masturbate, or so-something."

"Rick, w-where are you going?"

Rick ignored Morty and strode away, Morty could only watch forlornly as his grandfather disappeared in a throng of Ricks and Mortys. Morty stood, staring at the place where he had lost sight of his grandfather, wondering why he was so easy to leave behind.

Morty turned toward the cafe and sat down, peering at the money in his hand before letting out a sigh and sitting down at an empty table. The minutes passed quickly and Morty was just sitting there, too creeped out by the way his face was everywhere, on the beings around him and plastered on the walls in forms of commercials.

He was surprised when three other Morty's slid into the seats next to him, adolescent voices pitching in conversation.

"Hey, l-look at this Morty," one of them spoke, this Morty had long hair which was braided back and was wearing a skirt and tank top despite the fact that Morty could tell that he was male.

"Be nice, Theta-1047, he looks new."

The other Morty cut in, a version of Morty that apparently had come out female. The last Morty had a lollipop in his mouth, one eye a brilliant blue while the other was brown.

"I am, Q-9, we just don't get new Morty's much anymore, a majority of Rick present dimensions with intelligence enough to create a portal gun have been integrated into the Citadel, you can't blame me for being interested."

Morty took his opportunity to smile weakly and stutter out a small greeting.

"Where's your Rick?" Q-9, the girl Morty, asked.

"Busy."

They all nodded like that was the most natural thing in the world. The Morty with the lollipop pulled the candy out of his mouth and spoke,

"Nice when a Rick leaves, a few dumbass Morty's actually like having their Ricks around,"

"O-oh," Morty said, acting as though he understood what they were talking about.

"Yeah," Theta-1047 said, the one in girl's clothing, "when my Rick isn't around I have a lot of fun, I mean, we know they don't really give a shit about Mortys, a few do but they're weird. By the way,"

Theta-1047 said, turning to Morty, "which dimension are you from, I don't think we got your name."

"C-137."

The response was instantaneous, the pleasant smiles vanished and a slight look of awe and disgust came onto their faces.

"Oh." Theta-1047 said, "that's uh, that's nice."

The insincere response was followed by an awkward silence. The lollipop Morty stood and the other two followed, walking away. Morty watched them leave and let out a sigh. He hated the Citadel of Ricks.

Standing, he decided he didn't want to stay at the cafe, besides, Rick was probably going to be gone for a long time. Morty began walking down the main way, a few Ricks looking curiously at him. He was looking to the side when a hand roughly gripped his upper arm and yanked him. Morty let out a scream, looking at whoever had grabbed him, it was a Rick, but definitely not his Rick.

Morty kept screaming, but no one seemed to care, because for all they knew it was just another Rick and Morty. Morty struck out at the Rick, trying to free himself. The hold tightened and Morty was back handed. Morty felt himself be thrown up against a wall, blinking away his spinning vision he saw two Ricks standing over him. He had been dragged into an alley.

"It's friggin' C-137's Morty." One of the Ricks said, a malicious grin splitting his face.

"I to-told ya, JP-98, I told you it was him."

Morty pressed himself against the wall, breathing harshly and eyes widened in terror.

"W-what do you want?" Morty demanded.

They ignored him, still turned to each other.

"Can't believe the bastard l-left him alone, just our f-friggin' luck."

Morty started to edge away, planning on making a break for it. One of the Ricks saw and grabbed Morty slamming him back against the wall.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The Rick pressed against Morty, his forearm digging into Morty's throat and the other hand now had a knife in it.

"Little shit, trying to sneak off, should I cut him, make him not be able to leave?"

Morty tried to beg, anything to get the knife away from him, but the arm pressed against his throat left him barely able to breathe, let alone talk. The Rick looked back at the other Rick and they chuckled to each other.

"Dunno, may-maybe we should have some fun first, huh JP-98?"

The Rick that was holding Morty down looked back at Morty, the grin on his face growing.

Rick had left Morty behind because he wanted him to be safe, he had never met this buyer and anyone wanting to buy weapons from Rick wasn't exactly safe. It was more than that though, Rick knew he was disliked by most governments in the multi-verse, he'd made a lot of enemies, he couldn't be sure that this 'deal' wasn't some sort of set up. He had too many experiences that had lead to him bleeding and nearly dead because of an asshole who had set him up.

So he'd left Morty behind, probably in one of the safest places for a Morty. Walking away from the cafe he made his way through the crowd before doubling back. He didn't want Morty following him and he wanted to make sure that Morty was okay, Morty was seated at a table at the cafe by himself, the Rickcash still clenched in a fist and his gaze far off.

That was safe enough for Rick so he continued on his way, headed to the seedier parts of the Citadel of Ricks. Generally most of the Citadel had pretty strict rules when it came to most things, however on the outskirts the more deviant Ricks upheld the more, so to say, unsavory activities. Ricks did what they wanted when they wanted. A look of disgust crept on his face as a Morty jaunted toward him, obviously offering himself.

Rick brushed him off by continuing to walk on, other Ricks were slouching around, the streets were dirtier here, littered with trash and filth. The Mortys were either sensuous of bedraggled but very few of them were in the area whereas there were a greater number of Ricks. As far as Rick knew the Morty Protective Services (MPS) would have most of the Mortys on the streets here cleaned up and taken care of. Most Ricks may not give a shit about Mortys but they were friggin' serious about having a shield, their most important asset aside from the inter-dimensional portal gun.

Needless to say, seeing the Mortys acting as prostitutes or the ones obviously Rickless or abused left a pit in his gut which he decidedly ignored, eyes and mind averting from it all. Rick continued on his way, making his way through the streets, till he came to some sort of pub named Halfway Rick. Rick stepped in, glancing around the room, taking in the multiple Ricks seated at the tables along with a few other beings and a Morty which was working as a waiter.

His potential buyer had given him a description, red ball cap, far left of the room in the corner. Rick looked and there was a Rick, red ball cap on his head and in the far left corner. Rick made his way over, sliding into the booth.

"Rick."

The Rick opposite of him looked up, eyes a glittering blue and with a thick scar that started at his left brow and ran down till yielding at his chin, just avoiding his eye and curving so it crossed the most prominent part of his cheekbone.

"Cappa, just cappa. You don't really know the lingo, do you? You're actually, well- him, the one."

Rick raised a brow, when he said 'the one' he meant about Rick being the only rogue Rick there was. There wasn't amazement or awe in the Cappa Rick's tone, more of disgust and mild interest. This Rick didn't have a lisp and his eyes were too clear for him to be inebriated.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh…" The Morty had approached, thin and obviously abused with a white apron tied over his dirty yellow shirt. His speech impediment was much more pronounced than Rick's Morty, voice a near whisper.

"Scram you piece of shit, bring us some regular and don't hang around."

The Morty didn't even try to respond, instead he ran off, shaking in fear. The Cappa Rick shook his head in disgust, looking over at Rick.

"Can't even talk, Mortys are friggin' useless, worthless shit only good for their brain waves."

Rick didn't respond to the comment about Mortys, making sure to keep his face neutral rather than letting his lip curl and anger show.

"I-I thought you were a buyer."

"I am."

Rick shook his head, "You're a Rick, what the hell do you need me for? You can make anything I can offer, in fact you'd have a hell of a lot better time picking up materials than I would being in the Citadel."

The Cappa Rick shook his head, mouth opening to respond when the Morty came back, two large cups in hand, arms trembling so badly that the liquid was splashing onto the floor. He set them down and scurried off as the Cappa Rick sent him a deadly stare.

"I'm under suspicion," the Cappa Rick spoke as if that explained everything.

When Rick didn't show comprehension the Cappa Rick continued.

"It's a council order, any Rick who breaks certain rules gets a microchip implanted in them to monitor whatever diverging behavior is causing a problem. You got under suspicion for incestuous Ricks, microchips implanted for a six month period which ensures the behavior cannot be pursued and then you have Ricks like me, willing to break the molds of science and punished for thinking freely."

Rick read that as the Rick in front of him doing very very bad stuff with his inventions, mass killing stuff or risky entire galaxy destruction stuff. This Cappa Rick was a real bastard.

"In short, I can't invent stuff, can't build, can't even try to write up blue prints. I've got five years like this, a possible parole with parameters. I can't live like this so I figured a Rick like you would help me out."

Rick paused, not responding because he wanted to think about this and because he wanted to make this Cappa Rick squirm, wanted to see him desperate.

"N-no can do."

The reaction was instantaneous, outrage came onto the Cappa Rick's face along with anger.

"So what? You'll leave a Rick in the lurch? You'll help out this shitty Citadel? I thought you were against all that?"

Rick rose, disappointed by how this had all turned out. He walked out, ignoring the thrown insults and yells. He wasn't going to have his hands in this mess, not with a Rick who would flip him to make a few bucks and didn't have any turn out to offer that Rick couldn't find anywhere else. He let out a sigh when he got out of the pub, he'd wasted a lot of time and had risked going about in the Citadel for a dud job. Pulling out his flask he took a swig and began walking, it was time to get Morty and head home, call his losses and enjoy the rest of the day.

Morty had tried to tune it all out, tried to ignore all of the things the two Ricks had done, those familiar, callused hands hurting him and violating him. The worst part though was the words, things spoken and thrown out with deliberate vituperative tones, words meant to break a person. And break he did, sobbing and crying, they had dragged him to a rent-a-room before doing anything real serious, other Ricks would only abide so much.

At the end, they cleaned him up, using some kind of healing gel that made all the wounds and bruises disappear. They washed him up and forced a new yellow shirt on him along with new pants, words all the while continuing to break him. Finally though, they pushed him out, gruffly pointing him in the direction of the cafe before heading off, cruel laughter being the last thing Morty experienced of them.

He'd started walking in the direction they had given when Rick had shown up,

"W-where the hell were you, Morty? I-I told you to stay, stay at the cafe, Morty, you little shit."

Morty flinched at the insult and Rick's eyes narrowed. Morty didn't have any injuries, no wounds, clothing and hair all normal. The only thing was off was the wide, glazed look in his eyes and the way he held himself. Whatever Rick had been planning on saying next died on his lips. Great, another emotionally traumatized Morty. He roughly grabbed Morty's wrist, yanking him back towards where his ship was parked. Rick ignored the pit in his stomach which formed when Morty flinched just a little from the hold, he loosened it just a bit.

By the time they got to the ship, Rick's mind was elsewhere. They got in and shut the doors, kicking a few beer bottles away from his gas and break pedals. A few minutes into the trip, Rick frowned, an unfamiliar smell making its way past the overwhelming smell of alcohol which accompanied him everywhere. If he was honest, the smell wasn't unfamiliar so much as unusual, one he couldn't quite place but which he recognized as coming from Morty, a smell he had registered but not noticed when he had first met up with Morty.

It made the pit in his stomach grow and he frowned despite himself, glancing over at his grandson, Morty was hunched over in the seat, arms wrapped around himself. This was just the usual emotional trauma, he'd probably met an incestuous Rick who had scared him but not hurt him, or maybe he'd met an alternate self which had freaked him out. That was all menial stuff, things he could fix by ignoring or giving Morty a small sort of compliment. Rick decided to ignore the part of him which told him that this was different.

The feeling stayed all on the way back, seeming to grow into a black pit of anxiety, worry and foreboding. When they got back, Rick realized for the first time that Morty hadn't spoken a single word since they had met back up, the feeling in his stomach grew.

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