2.

Rick forced himself to walk back to the waiting room. There was barely anyone else in the sterile-smelling room, so Beth and Jerry weren't hard to find. They sat close, their arms laced together. Rick approached them, knowing what they'd say to him. Jerry glared at him. Rick looked away as he sat across from them. Beth's mascara was running down her cheeks and her eyes were red. The last time Rick had seen his daughter this upset was when he left the house for the last time when she was a teenager.

"Th-they told us that they have to amputate his arm…" Beth sobbed. Rick stared at the floor. The news sank into Rick. He covered his face with his hands in an attempt of hiding his grief. A sob ripped from Rick's throat, making Jerry and Beth stare at him with a look of shock, sadness, and a hint of anger. Pain he tried to suppress with alcohol and drugs came to the surface, and he was the most exposed he'd ever been. He knew he'd be kicked out now, there was no way he could convince Beth that he actually makes her family more complete.

"Dad…" Beth muttered. Rick couldn't bring himself to say anything. Beth nor Jerry tried to speak to Rick. He didn't talk to them either; his head was too jumbled up. Four long hours passed. It was almost time for Summer to be getting out of school, but no one would be there to pick her up. Beth ended up calling her and telling her to walk home, and that they'd be home soon. As the agonizing wait pushed on its fifth hour, a nurse walked into the waiting room.

"Smith?" he announced, glancing around the room. Beth and Jerry popped up, while Rick was slower behind them. The nurse led them down a few halls before stopping at a room with a slightly open door.

"He'll wake up soon," the nurse told them. Beth nodded, and she opened the door further. Morty was asleep, as expected; he looked so frail between the white sheets. His uninjured arm was uncovered, but it had an IV protruding from his vien. Beth started crying again; Jerry wrapped an arm around his wife. Rick could only stare at his grandson. Morty had trusted Rick with everything, and he had been so careless to cause him to lose his arm. Morty's eyes fluttered, and he groggily opened his eyes.

"Wha-why are you crying, Mom?" Morty asked, his eyes darting from each person in the room. Beth couldn't answer.

"She's just upset," His father eventually replied. Morty looked at Rick with wide eyes.

"Does this mean w-w-we can't go on adventures anymore?" Morty asked.

"I-I don't know, Morty…" Rick replied shakily. Jerry looked at his son with confusion. Why would be still want to go with Rick even after this? Morty kept staring at Rick, unsatisfied with his answer.

"Why don- can't I feel my arm?" Morty asked. Rick cringed at the question. He knew the boy would've asked sooner or later, but he wished it came later rather than sooner. Rick glanced at Jerry for some help. Jerry sighed.

"Look, Morty. The doctors couldn't save your arm from the elbow-down. It had to be cut off," his father explained gently. Morty had a confused look on his face. He eventually looked at his stub of an arm. He couldn't move it, so he moved the sheets away from it. He was greeted with a thing that resembled a cast in place of his flesh. Morty could just stare. His heart sank the longer he looked. He promised himself he'd never cry in front of Rick, but the promise was already broken. His head dropped as tears made their way down his tiny face.

"Summer, we're not coming to pick you up today."

"Why? Is everything okay?"

"No, jus-just walk home."

"What happened?"

"I'll explain later..."

"Tell me what happened, Mom!"

"Bye."

"But, Mom!" click. Summer's mind raced with the possibilities. Maybe Rick teleported her family to a dimension and they were trapped for a while, or maybe there was a horrible accident. She shrugged it off, switching her thoughts to her vibrating phone.

The clock ticked, ticked, ticked. Morty listened to it as he lay in a hospital bed. He would make patterns in his head of the noises as he tried to entertain himself. Morty's eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, and he had a horrible headache. The worst part was he was beginning to feel the post-op pain. Really, the worst part was that he was alone. Sure, the nurses would check on him once in a while, but they weren't Rick, Summer, or his parents. They didn't care about him. Not really. Morty was still so confused about his situation. Should he hate Rick? Should he want him to leave and never come back? He wasn't sure, but he knew that it was somewhere in between the two. The problem was, Morty wasn't really mad. Sure, his hand was gone, but it had to happen to a Morty somewhere anyway. Plus, he would adapt to it...eventually. As his mind raced, a green portal appeared on the wall. The sight of it was comforting to Morty. Rick came through the portal; he fiddled with his hands as he looked at Morty. Morty just stared back at his grandpa.

"Hey, Morty…" Rick sighed, plopping down on a chair beside Morty's bed.

"Hey, Rick," Morty replied.

"How're ya holding up in here?" Rick asked as he tried to act like he wasn't bawling his eyes out earlier.

"I'm alright. I mean, I got everything I need, ya know?" Morty said, attempting (and failing) to make Rick feel better about the situation.

"Look, Morty, I'm sorry. I-I should'a been a better grandpa to you…" Rick began.

"No, Rick. Don't feel- don't beat yourself up over this. It had to happen to a Morty somewhere, right?" Morty comforted, "I don't blame you for what happened. I-I guess I should be mad, but I'm really not. I'm upset that my hand's gone, but I'll get used to that," Morty smiled sweetly, reaching out to his favorite grandpa.

"…I love you," Morty whispered. Rick kept staring at Morty, his words sinking into his heart.

"I love you, too," Rick mumbled.