Rick worked feverishly, angry and less patient by the minute. He put the final touches on the anti-Jerry shield, a little blood he'd gotten from him when he was sleeping, just in case he ever needed it. He had blood samples from all of the family and many of their friends.
Morty quietly opened the door. "Is Mom gone?" he asked.
"Yeah. Did you finally decide to d…ditch that worthless school like I told you?" Rick asked.
"What's the point?" Morty asked.
Rick turned on the machine, and it emitted a low hum.
"What's that?" Morty asked, coming to the table and looking. He knew better than to touch. He'd learned that the hard way once when he'd handled a mutagenic substance, and Rick had to waste hours finding a fix for his hand while he wailed like the baby he was.
"It's an EM repellant device," Rick said. "It uses an…urp…electromagnetic pulse to stop mice, but I've re-engineered it to specifically target Jerry's DNA."
"Huh?" Morty asked.
Rick sighed. "God you're dumb. It's an anti-Jerry machine."
"Oh," Morty said flatly. "That's g…good."
"Don't sound so excited," Rick said.
"Thanks," Morty said. "I wish Dad wasn't such a f…fuck up."
"You and me b…both," Rick said. "This will…urp…this will help."
He glanced toward a computer that was set aside on a folding table. Wires led from it to a small black box. "Get out of here," Rick said. "I have work to do, and you'll get in the way."
"What's wrong with you?" Morty asked. "You've been r…r…really weird since you came back."
"I told you before, nothing's wrong," Rick snapped.
"Liar," Morty said.
Rick turned his attention to his grandson. "What did you say to me?" he asked.
"I said you're a liar," Morty said louder. He kept eye contact with Rick, even when his 6 foot 3 grandfather crossed the room and towered over him.
"I'm t..t…tired of whatever is happening," Morty said. "Dad is nuts, Mom is sad, Summer is hardly talking, and you're getting w…weirder. Why can't you just be normal?"
Rick snorted. "You want n…normal? Normal is your parents, kid. Normal is guys getting fat and old in jobs they hate married to people they hate. Shut the…urp…fuck up about normal."
"We need you!" Morty said. "Stop running away and getting all d…drunk and shit. I can't do this anymore."
"Can't do what?" Rick sneered. "Be a kid who…urp…worries about grades and girls? Sounds soooo hard."
"I can't fix things," Morty said. "I tried. I called D…Dad and tried to talk to him, but he's still drunk. I'm so tired of trying to fix things. Can't you do it for awhile?"
Rick was used to Morty looking miserable, all Morty's looked miserable. It's what they did – their fate, much like his fate was to spend his life trying to fix what the other Ricks and the government had done to the universe.
He looked down at Morty, somehow looking defiant and sad at the same time, and he felt familiar old problem flair up. He wanted to reach down and hug the brat, tell him it would be ok, tell him that his father could change, that his Mother would go back to the way she was before Morty even knew here, happy and free. He wanted to lie to Morty.
"Morty, why do you think I keep d…dragging you around the universe?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Morty asked.
"Just…urp…answer the question, dipshit."
"I know I'm just your shield because I'm dumb. You don't have to r…remind me."
Rick wondered how Morty would use the information Rick was hiding. He'll turn against me, he thought. He's already barely manageable sometimes.
And yet, he remembered what it had been like to come home to Miranda so many years ago. To know that no matter what happened out there in the ugly universe, no matter what atrocities he saw or what he had to do to try to stop the madness there was a bit of stability, one place where he was always welcome.
He ached for that, and he reached for his flask to fill the void. It was empty. "Fuck," he said listlessly, dropping the flask on the table.
"What if I told you that you aren't all that d…dumb?" Rick asked.
"Whatever," Morty said. "You're just screwing with me, aren't you?"
"Well, you're not smart, but you're not any d…dumber than most kids your age."
"Yeah, s…so?"
"So traveling alone sucks. That's all there is to it."
"Then why did you tell me I'm stupid?" Morty asked.
Rick shrugged. "Because…urp…almost everyone is stupid to me. G…get over it."
"Fine," Morty said. "I will." He turned and stomped toward the door.
"Wait!" Rick said. "That isn't what I meant to say. Come here. I have s…something I want to show you."
He showed Morty the computer. "I wasn't going to show this to anyone. You keep your mouth shut, ok? This is just between you and me."
Morty leaned closer, intrigued. "What is it?"
Rick turned on the computer, and they waited while it booted up. Rick's palms sweated, and he wiped them nervously on his lab coat.
He opened a file on the desktop and ran a program. A 16 bit face filled the screen.
"Morty, I want you to meet your g…grandmother." He clicked the face, and the eyes opened.
She immediately snarled at Rick. "You bastard! You shot me!"
"You didn't give me much choice," Rick said. "We can get past that."
The computer generated Miranda clone laughed. "Are you insane? You shot me." She looked around. "I can't move. What did you do to me?"
"I didn't want to lose you again," Rick said. "You died. I br…brought you back."
"YOU WHAT?" Miranda screamed.
"You could be a little…urp…grateful," Rick said. "Not many people get a chance at immortality."
"You fucking asshole!" Miranda screamed.
"Now honey, that's no way to talk in front of your…urp…grandson," Rick said. His smile was strained. "I want to make this marriage work, but it takes two."
"You want to…? Did you lose your mind?"
Rick sighed and pulled Morty forward. "This is your grandson Morty. Say hello to your g…grandmother."
"Um, hi," Morty said. He looked up at Rick. "We met before. I didn't know who she was."
"Why are you showing me Beth's pathetic spawn?" Miranda sneered.
Rick expected Morty to come back at her. He'd been mouthy enough lately, but instead he hung his head and his posture slouched. Rick saw how very much Jerry's son he was, and he felt hard and cold inside again.
"Well?" Rick said. "S…stand up for yourself, boy."
"Ok," Morty said. He stepped forward and turned off the computer. He yanked the wires out of the computer and pushed it off the table, letting it crash to the floor. "This is fucked up, even for you."
"No!" Rick yelled, jumping toward the computer. He frantically checked the computer. "Do you know what you've done?"
"She's d…dead and this is sick," Morty said. "Rick, we need you. I need you. You're my only friend and I don't know what to d…do anymore."
Rick looked at the earnest face, and he saw Beth there, with all her loneliness and sadness. He'd never noticed his daughter's personality in Morty before. He was all too aware of Jerry's.
Rick took off his lab coat and covered the computer as if it was a corpse. "Rest in peace," he said quietly.
"I wish you could have known her before," Rick said. "She was so…urp…sweet, and kind. Generous, smart."
Rick remembered the feeling of seeing her in her pressed apron, smiling and unaware of the evil that lurked everywhere. It had always made him feel so good, making a safe place for her and Beth.
"I wish you could have known me before," Rick said.
"I know you now!" Morty said, "but you're b…barely here."
Rick sat on his cot and leaned his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands.
"I can't be what you want," Rick said. "That guy died a long time ago."
"That's some bullshit," Morty said.
"Go…urp…go away," Rick said quietly. "I n…need to be alone."
He heard rustling, but he didn't look up. He couldn't care less what Morty was doing. When Morty left he went to his work table.
Miranda, then Unity. Birdperson. Everyone he cared for left or died. It was better not to care. It was better to be alone, an island. It was better to be dead.
He opened a drawer underneath his work table and wondered how he had managed to misplace his laser pistol.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Jerry had told Summer and Morty where he was living, and Morty walked the four miles as fast as he could, trying not to think about what he was about to do.
Jerry lived in a rundown motel, the kind of place that Morty saw on cop shows. He walked past a homeless man with a "will work for food" sign, and stepped on broken glass from a beer bottle.
Jerry's studio apartment was on the second floor, and when Morty knocked on the door his heart was racing.
Jerry laughed and tried to hug Morty when he opened the door, but Morty pulled away. Jerry didn't seem to notice the reserve on his son's face. Jerry stepped back into the apartment. "Come in!" he said. "It's not much now, but I'm about to get a better job soon, and I can get something better so that you and Summer can come live with me. I'm just working at McDonald's, but things are about to turn around."
Jerry pulled a cup out of the cabinet and drew some water from the tap. He turned to hand it to Morty, but he stopped, shocked at what he saw.
Morty stood in the center of the room, holding his arms out and clutching a gun in both hands. He was shaking.
"Son, what are you doing?" Jerry asked.
"I won't let you hurt Mom," Morty said. "No one else is g…going to fix things. I have to do it."
"Morty, put the gun down. Let's talk about this."
Morty had seen Rick kill people before. It looked so easy. All he had to do was pull the trigger and his mother would be safe. Summer would be happy, and he could help Rick somehow.
"I'm sorry Dad," he said. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
He didn't open his eyes until he heard the thud, and when he did he saw Jerry lying on the floor with blood seeping out of his chest. Jerry coughed roughly.
"Oh god," Morty said. His father's eyes closed and his head fell to the side. Morty turned and ran, clutching the gun.
Rick was still nursing his sadness with the bottle of Popov that he'd found when Morty barged into his room.
"What are you doing with my gun, you little shit? That's not a toy."
Morty dropped the gun and stared at it. "I fixed it," he said, his voice trembling as much as his body. "N…no one else would f…fix it, but I did. Mom's safe now."
He looked up at Rick with horror in his eyes.
Rick felt a cold shiver run up and down his body. "What did you do Morty?" he asked.
"I fixed the problem," Morty said. "Someone had to do it." His eyes were glazed.
Rick crossed the room and put his hands on Morty's shoulders.
"Morty. What d…d…did you do?" When Morty didn't answer Rick shook him by the shoulders.
"What did you do?" Rick yelled.
"Dad won't hurt Mom again," Morty said.
Rick realized that Morty was too traumatized by his own actions to tell him the obvious.
"Did you shoot your father?" Rick asked, forcing gentleness into his voice and hoping that Morty would respond.
Morty nodded. "You understand, right?"
"Yeah," Rick said, "but I bet it was sloppy. Is he alive?"
"I d…don't think so," Morty said.
"You're not sure? You're going to have to…urp…learn to keep your head in these situations. Where is he?"
Morty gave him the address.
"That's a shithole," Rick said. "I doubt anyone even called the cops. The sorts of people that live there don't want attention, and I imagine a s…single gunshot won't draw too much attention."
Rick took the lab coat off of Miranda's computer grave and put it on, tucking the gun into it. "You tried to tell me, didn't you?" Rick asked Morty. The weight of his failures crashed in on him, but a long swig of vodka straight from the bottle helped just a bit.
"I should have listened," Rick said. "I will next time."
Morty still stood shaking. "I c…can't believe I did that."
"We'll talk about it later," Rick said. "Right now you need to go to your…urp…room and wait for me."
