*I don't own Rick and morty or is characters

While editing, the plot kind of changed a bit, but now I know I have an interesting story in my hands. Anyway, shout out to Briar 4, whose comment made my day.

They say a man shouldn't cry, it made them appear weak and insignificant. Crying was to utter inarticulate sounds, especially of lamentation, grief, or suffering, usually with tears, to weep. To cry was a natural emotive response. Yet, such an act was considered toxic for most Ricks. Even after all her years of experience, a Rick's tears never failed to amaze her. Perhaps it had to do with rarity of it; while it was not impossible it was mostly improbable.

The typical Rick response was to run away from judging eyes, down an oceans worth of liquor, and take drugs; then again J19Z7 wasn't the typical Rick. As fascinating as it would have been to study his abnormalities, it was disheartening to watch, causing tears to bite at her eyes. It reminded her of the days when a very similar being tried to stifle his own sadness; failure to repress resulted in the following scene. Electrifying blues blinked, every passing moment clouded, pained and burned. Rick sniffled, covering his face with those pale, slender hands.

This was not supposed to happen, she didn't mean it to happen. True, she had heard so much about him, and she wanted to check if the rumors were true, as well as for personal reasons. This great, kind man, it was clear to see he was cut out of a different sort of cloth; she needed to help him. Rubbing against his arms, she mewled and mewled at him, she needed to grab his attention once more. After a while a shaky hand came down to rest upon her head, and he continued to provide his attention.

His petting was gentle, slow, and with purpose. Warmth permeated from his hand, and without trying she purred with a vengeance, perfectly content. Soon the other hand came around to lift her up, and Rick stared at her with such intensity, she thought she would blush. If only she could change back, but it might frighten him, there was so much she did not know. Perhaps he was being paranoid again, but examination told him nothing."Are y-y-you really a cat?"

"What do you think?" she answered.

With an audible gasp, he carefully put her down. "I-I-I, he sniffed. "I don't know."

If he couldn't figure out the identity of a cat, what other failures would be contrived to destroy him further? Of all the insignificant emotions which could be felt, it had to be the suffocating fear that plagued him on a daily basis. "Why," His body shook with the magnitude of his sadness. "did I… why am I so pathetic?"

The nearby faucet dripped in inharmoniously, indifferent to the beat of this man's troubled heart. What had occurred to cause this man so much grief in the first place? She had hoped to alleviate some of the pain, but because of her mistakes, she had caused more heartache and misunderstanding. To reveal her identity so soon would upset him further, and she didn't want to do that; not to anyone, especially not him. Alright, there was no other choice. "Soon enough you will understand."

As a scientist, he had encountered many a strange alien creature, though most took little interest in him since he wasn't the version of Rick who was a criminal, and his intelligence wasn't the kind to covet. Whoever this cat before him was, whatever it was she wanted, he wasn't going to fight it. No, he had too much heartache and was tired of his simple, depressing life. Perhaps, she would make things easier, and the world would have one less Rick.

Reaching up, she pressed a paw over his thin lips. "I am going to enter your thoughts, if you do not consent, then nod."

Red rimmed eyes looked straight through her, as though she weren't there. Perhaps she had waited too long. "I promise, that I'm not going to hurt you. Nod if you understand."

Nodding, his voice was above a whisper. "Thank you for letting me pet you. As a cat you really are convincing, and I bet you make a lot of people happy; I know I was," he sighed. "at least for a moment. I-I don't know who you are, and you might not care to tell me, but at least we had fun. That's...well that's all that matters."

Silent resignation, acceptance, the bittersweet smile, and those few reluctant tears which waited to fall; he thought she was going to kill him, and he didn't care. In places she thought she couldn't feel anymore, she hurt. Her collar brightened, and she waited for signs of struggle, but none of them came, and she proceeded. "This collar gives me the ability to enter your thoughts. It's main purpose was to help the mute, and those whose voices would fail them, it was meant to reach a line of understanding. I'm telling you this because," she sighed. "I want to help you, but I can only do that if you're willing to let me help you. Do you still consent?"

"Yes."

Never had she taken advantage of this ability, for sometimes the things seen were much more than she'd care to know. There were burdens which no one should have to carry, and she chose to take them if it meant to save another soul; to help them even if hurt her in the long run. The time had come, where darkness and light intermingled with the spectrums of ethereal hues and shades. Brighter and brighter, her collar glowed, until they disappeared into one another.