And there's no remedy for memory your face is
Like a melody, it won't leave my head
Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine
But I wish I was dead
Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise
No one compares to you
I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side
-Dark Paradise, Del Ray
Little boxes in a row rest, each one less remarkable than the one before. Matching shingles, mailboxes, and window shutters are cloned and lined up and down the street. Slowly, like moths to a flame, the suburban families stand on their porches to face towards the Sanchez family home, sirens and lights flashing, an ambulance and firetruck parked on the curb. There isn't much movement, but the sound of a woman's scream cuts through the night, piercing through the darkness. The neighbors murmur amongst themselves, throwing around generic phrases of assumption and judgement. This isn't the first time police have been called to this address.
Rick Sanchez stumbles onto the lawn from the front porch. He vomits on his hands and knees, he struggles to breath. An EMT rushes to his side, trying to assist him with a plastic oxygen mask.
"Sir, sir, we need you to breathe."
Rick swats him away, pushing himself off the ground. He sways, still drunk, trying to force himself into sobriety. A police officer walks over to grab Rick firmly by the upper arm.
"Sir, we need you to come with us."
The hysterical screams continue as he's led across the grass to the police car.
Everything is spinning.
"Mr. Sanchez, we need to ask you a few questions."
The leather of the back of the police car is squeaky and shiny, and the tone of voice used by the officer is confusing. The lights and sounds are disorienting, the voices sounding as if they're underwater as the officer whips out a notepad and pen. Rick's voices feels unfamiliar and ragged.
"Wh…Where… Where's my son?"
"Jesus Christ, PLEASE! Hu-Hurry up!"
Morty and Sam land on both feet on the snowy ground in the dark of the night. The snow glows gently from the lamps that line the path above their heads. Sam is momentarily disoriented by the sudden change of scenery, staring blankly ahead of Morty. Frustrated, Morty runs back towards Sam, pulling him by his wrist.
"Look, I-I'll explain everything later. W-We have to find him!"
Sam nods in understanding, following behind Morty closely. The snow is just below Morty's ankle, and the untouched path seems silent and calm. Too calm for Morty's liking. He scuffles through the snow, the winter air burning his cheeks. Gripping the plastic sheet in his hands, he curses his thick-headiness. In the panic of the moment, Morty had forgotten his jacket back at the bar. Determined, Morty pushes through the cold, following the dimming light faithfully. A second later, Morty is stopped by a hand on his shoulder pulling him back.
He looks up into the face of Sam, an expression of empathy on his face. Morty watches in astonishment as he slips out of his brown leather jacket and gathers it over his arm, extending it to Morty, leaving him in a simple black t-shirt.
"H-Here, kid. Take it."
Morty blinks. "But… y-you don't… you don't even know me. Why…" he stutters, reaching to take the jacket.
Sam shrugs with a grin. "Y-You're a kid. Kids need looking after."
Morty smiles up at Sam, a wave of gratitude sweeping through him. Morty is startled by Sam's sudden change of face, his expression turning serious as he looks over Morty's shoulder about a hundred feet across the graveyard. A raise in the snow in front of one of the headstones has caught his eye, and he turns Morty around while pointing towards the direction.
"There." Sam whispers, his breathe a cold fog in the dim light.
Morty whirls around, his eyes scanning frantically. They land on the soft curved form atop of one of the snow banks. It's scarce, but a faint patch of blue peaks through the whiteness.
Morty's chest tightens, and his feet move faster than his mind. Running as fast as he can, he's only vaguely aware of Sam following close behind as he completes the distance across the snowy field, dodging the white headstones littering the path.
Morty skids to his knees and reaches out a hand to touch the still form, shaking. Some snow falls away to reveal Rick, his grandfather, lips blue, skin gray, unresponsive.
"Rick! R-Rick! Rick, PLEASE… Rick!" Morty sobs, pulling the scientist up from the snow. Morty cradles his head in his lap. He moves to take off Sam's jacket, draping it over Rick's arms and neck. Morty begins feeling for a pulse, but he becomes hysterical from inexperience, his hands trembling from the fear and cold. Morty can't control his tears, and he begins to hyperventilate.
"Morty, h-here…" Morty looks up to see Sam leaning over Rick, holding his neck with one hand, the other hovering over Rick's nose and mouth.
Sam looks up, locking eyes with Morty.
"Morty, you-you need to calm down."
Morty immediately settles, seeing the steely blue stare from Sam and he hears the command. He nods quietly, too shaken to speak.
"He's… he's still alive, Morty. But w-we need to get him help now."
Christ, this little shit won't stop crying.
The brat was easy enough to snatch from the window, now he can't be caught with it.
The large man moves through the forest, in and out of trees. It's a brisk spring night, and the baby over his shoulder writhes in discomfort. He shifts uncomfortably, releasing a breath as he sees his target.
The east river moves in angry, fast, brown waves. The storm from the previous night still leaving the river reeling. A few trees are down near the bridge, but the man steps over them carefully, stopping to overlook the middle of the bridge. Marie's voice echoes through his brain.
'I don't care how, or what you do… just get rid of it.'
Hoisting the baby from his shoulder, he grips the child underneath both armpits as his tiny feet dangle over the rushing water. It's about a ten foot drop to the river, and the waves seem to be screaming.
He hesitates as the baby looks up at him, quieting. His chest tightens as tiny, bright blue eyes meet his own. Small fingers reach out to grip his forearm, and he knows he's defeated.
'Fuck… I can't do this.'
Bringing the baby closer to him again, he releases a shaky sigh, the prospect of his potential actions leaving him feeling sick. He grips the baby a little tighter, turns heel, and walks away from the bridge.
Opening the rusted door, he lays the baby down in the backseat of his old blue pick-up truck. The cries start up again, but he ignores them as he travels down the highway. Maybe it was five, ten, or even fifteen hours he drove that night. He couldn't be sure. Far away enough, at least.
St. Pete's Catholic Church towers in the distance. It's still the early hours of the morning, and the streets quiet. Pulling up on the curb, he parks quickly, jumping around to the side of his truck, pulling out the baby.
In an old tattered fleece blanket, the man leaves the baby on the steps with a hand written note.
'Hello, my name is Sam Sanchez.
Please take care of me.'
To say it's been a stressful evening would be the understatement of the century for Sam. He averts his eyes to the ground while he sits in the alien hospital. Creatures that resemble humans, slugs, and even other insects ignore him as they pass by. Sam releases a shaking breath, looking up. He grins as he looks across the way at the tall machine resting on the wall.
Coffee. Now we're talking.
Glancing from left to right, he stands and walks towards the machine. After about the third stride, something's caught him by the wrist. Sam's stomach lurches as he turns around to see Morty pulling him back.
"Uhh… I, um… wouldn't go n-near that coffee machine if… if I were you."
With a nod, Morty leads Sam back to the waiting area. St. Gloopy had been their only option without having too many questions asked. The critical care Rick needed had to be top notch, and thank goodness the address was still in the portal gun. They sit side by side in the plastic hospital chairs.
"Morty, how's… how's he doing?"
"H-He's gonna be ok. The doctor said he should be waking up within the hour."
Sam begins to fidget, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable. He rubs the back of his neck as he stands. Morty watches in confusion as Sam shifts his weight, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"L-Listen, Morty, I… I need to head home." Sam says, looking away.
"What?! Why?!" Morty stands suddenly, his voice much louder than he intended. Morty trips over his words as fear and panic begin seeping in.
"D-Don't, don't you believe me?! I-I-I mean, you-you saw the papers-"
"W-Whoa, take, take it easy, kid!" Sam exclaims, waving his arms. He places a hand lightly on Morty's shoulder in a calming gesture.
"I… I believe you Morty, it's just… do you really think this is… the right time for him to hear this news?"
Morty stops.
"Big news l-like finding out your son is still alive after thirty years could be pretty hard on a person." Sam finishes, leaning away and running a hand through his hair.
"I-I-I think the best thing may be for you to, you know… l-let Rick heal a bit be-before telling him, you know? A-And to be honest…" Sam looks away from Morty, walking off slightly.
"I… n-need some time to process this too."
Morty's chest feels tight as his eyes begin to water. His hands tremble and he grips his hair, a sob shaking his body.
"N-No, p-please… he… he n-needs y-you." Morty cries, slumping in the chair.
Sam sits next to him quickly, wrapping one long arm around his shoulders.
"H-Hey! Take, take it easy, Morty! These things need time, a-and… you've done such a great job, I-I just… Need to take care of some…something th-things back at home, o-ok?"
He's turns Morty around to face him in the chair, giving him a warm smile. He squeezes Morty's shoulders as the kid looked up at him, wiping his face.
"Morty, I-I promise you. I-I promise that I will come back wh-when the time is right, ok?"
"Y-You… y-you m-mean it?" Morty hiccups. The teen is jarred by the sudden embrace he's pulled into, but after a tense second falls into Sam's chest with another sob. To come all this way, find Sam alive, just to lose him again? Morty couldn't live with himself if that happened. He's crying harder now, the stress of everything hitting him at once. It's his first time he's been able to share Rick's pain with anyone else, and the tornado of emotions rips through him.
"I-I promise, Morty."
If Sam was disturbed by Morty's increase in emotion, he didn't let it show, which Morty appreciated. Sam patiently rubbed his back slightly with a couple shushes and warm words as the teen cries, even running a hand through his hair once. After a few minutes, Morty finally settles, sheepishly pulling himself away. He's embarrassed by the wet mark on Sam's t-shirt, but nothing is said about it.
"W-Well… l-let me send you back…" Morty reaches in his pocket for the portal gun, typing in the coordinates for the dive bar. Shooting it in front of the pair, the green portal swirls as Sam stands.
Taking the risk of freaking out an almost total stranger, Morty lurches forward again to grip Sam around the waist. Sam lets out a small huff in surprise, but returns the hug gently. Pulling him away, Sam winks at the teen.
"Do-Don't sweat it, kiddo. You gave me y-your contact info… Y-You'll see me soon."
With a silent nod, Morty watches as Sam steps towards the portal. The tall man stops before walking through, looking over his shoulder.
"Oh, and Morty?"
"Y-Yeah?"
"Don't… don't ever call me 'uncle Sam'… ok?" he laughs, stepping through the green mass.
Morty feels somewhat empty with Sam gone, and he sits heavily in the plastic hospital chair.
He doesn't notice the slug-like nurse approach.
"Morty Smith?"
Jolting upwards, Morty anxiously replies, "Yeah, yes! Yes, th-that's me."
"Your grandfather is awake now… you can see him."