Rick had given the family interdimensional goggles to stop the corrupted use of the cable he installed. It gave him a little satisfaction watching them chase after the goggles like a pack of dogs when he tossed them into the kitchen. Morty opted to stay with him to flip through the interdimensional channels instead and for some reason, that made Rick proud of the kid. Like himself, Morty understood there were bigger things in the universe, no single being could matter, and deep down Rick was also happy to just lay back and relax with his grandson. They'd been running around on crazy adventures, they hardly ever had time to just sit down and do something normal.

The pair flipped through the channels, intrigued by what different dimensions had to showcase, until they stopped on a show that captivated them both. Rick held off on going to the kitchen until there was a commercial and he went to one of the pantries. Without looking at the other three, he asked, "Hey, do we have any wafer cookies?"

Well, spic and spam, there was a box right there. He grabbed it and started to eat one, glancing over at them and noticing Beth and Jerry's bleak expressions while Summer used the goggles. "Ooh boy. Looks like you've been checking alternate lives and realizing you don't have it as good, huh?"

Summer rotated her head to decipher her surroundings in the goggles, muttering to herself, "Where am I? What is this?"

"That's too bad," Rick continued smugly, grinning at the adults with a cocked eyebrow. "You know, me and Morty are having a blast. We discovered a show called Ball Fondlers. I don't wanna rub it in, but you guys clearly backed the wrong conceptual horse here."

"Uh, Mom. Dad? I think that—" Summer gasped and covered her mouth.

Beth and Jerry quickly became alert while Rick merely stared at the thickening plot with an uninterested expression, downing the rest of his wafer.

"I think I'm being tortured," she said after a few seconds.

Beth frowned. "What? Why are you being tortured?"

"Why would Jerry manage to star in anything after producing shitty movies?" Rick countered nonchalantly. "Your question literally has an infinite amount of answers, Beth."

"Wha-What the—?" By the way her forehead scrunched, it was easy to tell Summer was frowning. Out of nowhere, she yelped and yanked the goggles off so fast, it would have seemed that she had handled a hot item, and the goggles crashed on the floor. Her eyes were wide with fear and she brought her hands up to her mouth, briefly looking at Beth before hiding her face with her hands and shaking her head. "Oh my gosh, that was…that was horrible!"

Beth moved to comfort her and she stroked her back while Jerry picked up the goggles (A fucking plus on parenting, Jeeerryy). "There, there, it's okay honey. You're okay."

"What did you see?" Jerry asked stupidly.

"Yeah, I'm not entirely positive on this cuz I wasn't exactly father of the year, but I don't think it's the best idea to ask her what torture she just saw when she couldn't keep watching." Rick rolled his eyes. "I mean, that's common sense not Parenting 101."

It was like he didn't say anything and the teen started spewing out her interdimensional peek. "Th-There were—There were, I dunno, these big bugs an-and I was on a—like a table, and they grabbed a hot stick, a piece of metal, a-and—!"

She sounded like she was going to say more, but Rick didn't care to stay behind and tune in. He shrugged and headed back to the living room. "Be happy that it isn't you—"

Rick didn't pay any mind to the vomit that stained his clothes or the glass that dug in his arm. The world was rocking back and forth and his mind felt like it was riding a merry-go-round. It kept spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning…

How much had he drank already? He couldn't remember how long he'd been at the bar for after drinking his own glass bottle and he could barely process what happened. Each time he'd blinked, time had elapsed and he ended up doing something entirely different. For instance, he'd black-out blinked a total of four times at the bar. The first time, he was getting up to go to the bathroom because he needed to hurl.

Blink. He was on the floor, his hand was in something wet, and he kept spitting to get rid of an acidic flavor in his mouth.

Blink. His vision was so blurry, he could barely make out the alien who had his lab coat balled in his fists, his face inches away from Rick's. He only remembered wondering if he wanted to fight and his arm numbly went to the inside of his coat.

Blink. "Give mme a reason," he growled with a slight slur. "I dare you."

People screamed, the sound pierced his ears and he winced, bringing his hands up to his ears and dropping to his knees. The need to escape overrode his confusion (seriously, why did he need to escape again?) and he fired his portal gun on the ground to leave. But wait…why was there a steaming hole in place of a green portal? Rick looked at his hand and made a face. When in the fuck was his portal gun replaced with his actual gun?

Blink. He was laying face-down on grass. He didn't know where he was and he wasn't bothered by the fact that he spaced out when he travelled there. His mind was more preoccupied on the single memory that made Rick grit his teeth and clench his eyes shut, the memory that pieced together two important pieces of information.

The second Summer came stomping into his garage, he'd noticed the scars on her arms, but he didn't think much of them. It wasn't until she asked him for liquor that he examined her, determining whether or not he should tell her to fuck off, and he realized those scars were actually burn scars. To make matters worse, when he was helping her up to his room, he wrapped her arm around his neck and saw their dimension branded into her wrist. The mark was sloppy, each little slash making up a letter or number was undoubtedly pressed separately into her skin, probably as a result from not being able to answer their questions.

He snapped. He wanted to find the Gromflomites that did that to her and break their limbs with his bare hands, stomp in their heads with his heels, and bash their exoskeletons to a pulp with something, anything—

"Ffuck!" Rick slammed his fist on the ground. He had known and he'd been eating a fucking cookie while it had happened to her.

"…I don't think it's the best idea to ask her what torture she just saw when she couldn't keep watching…"

"Motherfuckers!" he yelled at the skies. "I'm goin' tuh fuckin' KILL YOU!"

She tripped and he grabbed her arm. Clearly, she wasn't going to make it up the stairs without falling backwards and bashing her skull in. Rolling his eyes, he wrapped her arm around his neck and something caught his eye. C-137…engraved right into her wrist...

"…You could have taken me."

As trashed as he was, he clearly needed more if the fucking memories were bothering him now.

"Mom and Dad were fine and happy. But not me." Her voice cracked involuntarily.

Rick pulled out what he hoped was his gun-gun and he opened fire at the tree stump in front of him. He yelled, shooting again and again and again until the tree wasn't even a steaming stump. There was debris on his face and in his hair and he felt a strange twinge of déjà vu, but all in all he didn't care. He threw his gun at the stump and reached in his coat for his flask. Please let there be more. Please just let there be a little bit more. To his relief, there was and he flopped over on his back, downing a gulp of whiskey.

The scars had further influenced his decision into reluctantly agreeing to Summer's request, what sealed the deal, however, was the pained look she had in her eyes. A look he was all too familiar with, the mental exertion of fighting off certain memories, cursed experiences that automatically replayed themselves in every resting moment. He saw himself reflected in her eyes and he knew that whiskey would help numb her emotions towards her mental horror show.

Wubba lubba dub du—

He stared at the star-filled sky above him and wondered why he even cared.

He was surprised when SM1 Gutler's head exploded and blue blood splattered everywhere. The other soldier, SM1 Mague, jumped to his feet and brought his weapon up to fire, but she shot him in the shoulder. Everything was happening too fast for anyone to take a single second to think, so Summer didn't have the time to properly aim for his head, but something was better than nothing.

"Your chains!" she pointed her weapon at Rick's feet and shot the chains off as soon as he lifted his legs. Out of his peripherals, Rick saw Mague point his weapon at Summer and he immediately kicked at the bug-shit's knees. It didn't do much since Rick wasn't able to use a lot of force in the spur of the moment, however it did bring Mague's attention to him. He pointed the gun at Rick instead and was on the verge of firing.

"No!" In her desperation, Summer quickly fired her gun and shot Mague multiple times—

She helped him and Morty escape the Federation, biiiig fucking deal. It's not like she died, which is something people have done for him in the past. And here he was, years later, with no preference towards them, no intention to ever bat an eye for them. Yet with Summer, those rules pretty much went out the window. He hated it, he hated that he couldn't figure out why it was that way. Or maybe…he hated the fact that he knew what it was, but refused to believe that he allowed himself to feel that way, let himself to drop his guard.

"Run, Morty, run!" Rick grabbed the closest person and shoved him towards the agents. His luck was the fucking worst. Of course the Feds would so happen to bust the black market the day he and Morty went. He needed that herb for his development of the space-AIDS medication. It's planet of origin wasn't providing a suitable environment for it anymore, its inhabitants were poisoning the planet much like humans did to Earth. He figured he'd take the risk if he could just get a sample from the black market.

The thought was pushed out of his head when he ran into Morty, nearly sending them both tumbling to the ground.

"Morty!" Rick snapped.

But Morty didn't seem to notice. "Uhhh, Rick?"

A militarized Summer stood in front of them, plasma rifle held at bay in her hands. Her uniform and her tactical gear were all black and her hair was pulled into a low bun. Different emotions welled up on her face, disbelief, confusion…relief? It seemed like a tsunami of feelings just crashed down on her and then it was as if her military training kicked in and her expressions dropped, leaving a stone-cold glare that didn't suit her one bit. "Rick Sanchez, Morty Smith, don't move a single muscle. You're under arrest by The Galactic Federatio—"

Her expression was haunting, she was torn between being happy and being….Rick didn't know. He couldn't pinpoint the other emotion to this day. He took another gulp of whiskey and he stared at the night sky, it's mesmerizing violet hues were relaxing him. Involuntarily, he let out a yawn and ignored the itching he felt around his body, probably as a result of all that bark.

"Why aren't you at the school dance?"

"Piece of shit," he mumbled, bringing his hand up to rest on his forehead. "I'mm…a piece of shit. She's…"

"Ugh, screw that, it's flu season. I don't want to get sick."

"…Juss' a kid…"

Blink. Rick's head was turned to the side, his flask in his opposite hand. He looked up at the sky and noticed the hue was a little darker. Was it him, or were his eyes just getting continually heavier? Yeahhhh….it would be a bad idea to fall asleep on a random planet. He could be killed by its natural predators, especially if he were to just pass out in the open.

Blink. He brought his flask up, but there wasn't any alcohol left in it. Where in the fuck…? He didn't remember drinking all of it.

"…Rick, I want to ask for a favor…"

"…I don't know what type of drunk you'll be…"

He glanced to see what she was fucking with and the second he saw her shakily trying to lift the gun, he snatched it away—

Blink. What the fuck was that wet shit around his mouth? Was it…drool? Oookay, it was time to get out of there. He sat up and forced his eyes as wide open as he could get them, pulling his portal gun (yes, he was positive it was his portal gun this time) out of his coat. The coordinates that were on the screen seemed familiar. Whyyyy? Why was it—Oh! He quickly scanned the area, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the dark. He couldn't see the shapes exactly, but it was familiar enough.

His anger took the best of him the second he got back to the garage. He threw his tool across the garage, followed by his chair, and he smashed his project on the floor, stomping on it again and again until it was a dented piece of scrap metal. He could feel an animal-like scream on the verge of coming out and he yanked his portal gun out, punching in the coordinates of somewhere he knew he could take out his remaining fury—

—the same coordinates as—

Was he still yelling? It was hard to tell over the sound of his gun firing non-stop, obliterating everything that stood in view.

The field he was in looked like it had just been through a fire or an explosion. Tree stumps of different shapes and sizes stretched as far as he could see and there deep holes that exposed raw dirt, they looked like…craters? Did he…he did all of this? Leveled a field?

Blink. He was sprawled out on the floor again, his portal gun held loosely in his hand. There was no way he was going to be able to fight off the weariness that continuously threatened to take him out. He punched in the coordinates to get back home and shot a portal on the ground in front of him, as there were no vertical structures for it to latch onto. He started to crawl, but winced at feeling the glass shards in his forearm.

How did he get those again? Right, from breaking his bottle of liquor when he finished it. Fuck it. Once again, he resorted to grabbing fistfuls of grass and pulling himself towards the green hole. Yup. This was gonna hurt. He fell through the portal and crashed onto his working table, landing on the ground, but as much pain as he was in, the exhaustion won and his vision became increasingly blurry as his eyes shut….

…Juss' a…kid…

…for the final time that night.

So, now with our new episode of Rick and Morty, I guess my story is kind of a separate cannon, type thing. :/ *Shrug*

It took me a while to write this one up because I didn't know how I wanted to format it, I originally wanted two separate flashbacks, but it didn't sit well with me. So I did this. I like it, FINALLY, after writing and writing, moving and adding, and here it is.

Thank you so much for the reviews. :D It's so very encouraging, and I hope you all like this chapter as well (as confusing as it may be).

Szechuan sauce for everyone! *Fist Pump*

UPDATE: I've cleaned this chapter up a little. I guess I want to clear up the part where Rick was 'black out blinking' at the bar a little. I hope I made it understandable (what with my confusing writing in this part) that Rick threw up on someone's feet and the alien was going to get in a fight, but Rick pulled his gun-gun on him. Other than that...Yeah I've got nothing else.