Let The Ricks Fall Where They May

Written by Kat_Aclysm
Rated: - T for language

Disclaimers + Copyrights: Rick and Morty is an [Adult Swim] cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is unofficial fanfiction. Please support the official release.

NOTE: Slightly smaller chapter this time around, but it will have two halves to it. Gonna try to get these out a little faster. Hopefully.


Chapter 29 – Rickunions

Despite the Council's best efforts to keep the events of Dimension Q-316 and Rick's achievements a secret, word got out anyway. As soon as it had, Ricks from all over the Citadel were either freely discussing it amongst themselves or actively trying to get into the infirmary to talk to him. Some wanted to wanted to see what the fabled 'Rickest Rick' looked like for themselves, while others were opportunists who wanted to try and form alliances or earn his favors. Then there were the ones who just wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

It became disruptive in a short space of time and not even having guards posted outside the infirmary's doors could keep the unwanted traffic at bay. By the third day of it, the employees were fed up and a meeting was called so they could discuss what to do.

"I can't keep working like this!" One of the ward orderly Ricks angrily exclaimed as he threw both hands in the air. "Do you know what happened when the last one got in here? H-he tripped over the goddamn ECG monitor and disconnected the damn thing. We thought the patient had crashed!"

"I say you should put the entire infirmary on lockdown," the other full-time orderly growled through gritted teeth, genuinely frustrated. "If this guy's really that fucking important, then you gotta do something. Up the security or move him outta here!" His attention shifted from his work colleague to the two Council members also present in the room, and then finally to the doctor and surgeon as he tried to gauge their reactions.

Riq IV made a soft thoughtful hum in consideration and slowly nodded his head. "Yes, that would be the easier option. We wanted to keep it classified until the induction ceremony, but now the Council has to pretend and play this whole thing off like we intended it all along." His angry gaze also shifted towards Ricktus. "Q-316. You're the overqualified one here. Surely the asset is safe to relocate by now?"

Ricktus replied with a discontent sound and moved to the foot of Rick's bed to read over his most recent medical records. "You could," he answered tentatively. "He's no longer critical, but he's going to need strict medical observations every couple of hours until he wakes up again. I'm still not liking some of these numbers."

"Do it," Ricktiminus Sancheziminius agreed, "I'd rather see him hidden away until the time is right. Although some Ricks here at the Citadel have access to the interdimensional database, the few who do would rather keep their mouths shut than entertain the plebs. But where would you move him to?"

"I know of a good care center in the Noobynoopnoop Cluster in Dimension K-738." One of the orderly Ricks suggested. "Why not dump him there?"

"NO. I don't trust some random bullshit aliens with MY asset," Riq IV aggressively spat back. "Give me something better than that!"

Ricktus gave Surgeon Rick a sideways glance as the gears of thought turned over in his head. "Hey, doesn't your daughter work at a hospital now?"

"Yeah, so what?" Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow. "It'd likely be a basic intern job or something, she's still at university. She's not qualified to do anything important yet."

"Yes, but we are," Ricktus continued. "What's she majoring?"

"Ugh, why are you asking this?" Surgeon Rick was fast becoming irritated. "Kiddo wants to become a neurosurgeon. I-I tried talking her out of it years ago, but Lizabeth is adamant on achieving my career goal. I can't tell her what to do or destroy her dreams... so all I can do is pay for her education." He was momentarily silent. "Damn, that kid is gonna go far."

"She can record observations," Ricktus slowly nodded his head as he reasoned through his outstanding thought. "It would be good experience for her."

Surgeon Rick narrowed his eyes. "Where are you going with this?"

Instead of answering his ex-assistant, Ricktus faced the Council leader and pitched the rest of his idea. "Let us manage this. If we finish Rick B-526's care in one of our home realities, it won't look suspicious. No-one would think to look for him in some nobody silver-ranked Rick's dimension, so I propose moving him to C-711's dimension and hometown. I would suggest my own but it would be, uh... far less appropriate."

"What? NO! That's my shit to deal with!" Surgeon Rick loudly protested. "What are you thinking, bro? You know the name 'Rick Sanchez' is one of the most high profile names in all the hospitals in the tri-state area in my dimension, right? And if a 'Rick Sanchez' just so happens to turn up on their books, imagine what's going to happen. They'll think he's me. Think of all the questions they'll ask... I don't wanna deal with that kind of heat!"

"You wouldn't have to if we set up in your garage and do it ourselves." Ricktus continued. "The two of us are overqualified and your Beth can perform simple tasks. She wants to reconnect with you. Now's the time to play it to your advantage."

"N-no way, man! Stay the fuck off my turf and leave that shit alone!" Surgeon Rick raised his voice just below a yell. "What about the traceable brainwaves? I avoid home because of that shit, a-and you want three of us to go there?!"

"Relax, C-711. I don't think anything is actively trying to hunt you down. You don't exactly seem like the intergalactic antagonist type." Ricktus dryly mused. "If we're only there a few days, it shouldn't pose too much of a risk. Besides, you can use her as a free babysitting service. You get to make up with your daughter, Morty gets to see his family again, and we get to fix some more of the mess I've made. It's a win-win situation for everyone."

"I-I said NO!" Surgeon Rick's tone was stubbornly defiant now. "Can't you just respect that?!"

"Oh, would the two of you just shut UP!?" Riq IV snapped at them, and then was calm again as he tried to steer the conversation back on track. "Last time the asset was in your care, you almost killed him. Why should now be any different?"

"I understand your hesitation, sir, but the crystal enzyme treatment is working." Ricktus quickly explained. "Our job would be providing basic care like one of these guys." He pointed towards the orderlies. "If we screwed up their job, then we'd truly be incompetent. You'd have my blessing to banish me from the Citadel forever."

"Hmm..." Riq IV brought a hand up to his chin and stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "I still don't trust you. I'll send two of the Citadel guards with you to make sure you actually do the job properly." His stern cold eyes locked on the doctor's own and his voice became threatening. "If you harm my asset again this time, I'll do worse than banish you."

Ricktus scowled back at the Council leader, but chose to say nothing; he was willing to take anything he could get. "Understood."

"Don't I get a say in this!?" Surgeon Rick turned away and pinched his brow, needing time to calm down. "I-I didn't even want ME in my own dimension, let alone five of me!"

"You're the one who wanted a new job." Ricktiminus Sancheziminius curtly reminded him. "This is the best the Council can offer until we can find you something more... long term."

The surgeon went quiet for several minutes as he mulled it over in his head. Then, he let out a long sigh and reluctantly conceded. "Fine..." He attention slowly drifted towards their still-sleeping patient. "But you owe me. Nobody gets to fake being dead on my watch and get away with it."


December 7th, 8:50am PST, 2001
Suburbia, Smith-Sanchez Family Household
Earth, Dimension C-711


It was just another ordinary winter morning, or so she thought. Elizabeth Sanchez had just grabbed her car keys and was heading out the front door of her house when she saw the strange sight ahead - four tall figures in strange official looking uniforms were pushing a wheeled hospital bed and various machines up her freshly snow-plowed driveway. All she could do was stare dumbly at first; all of them had spiky powder blue hair. One was carrying a small boy which looked like her son.

And all of them looked like her father.

"Dad...?" It was all she could manage to say through her bewilderment.

As Surgeon Rick looked back at her, there was no joy in his expression; Lizabeth had suffered a chaotic unsettled childhood because of him. Between trying to hold down a job in a surgical ward, riding through waves of grief and depression after losing his wife during childbirth, and avoiding it entirely by falling into a habit of abusing prescription drugs to mute his pain, he believed he had failed at being a proper father to her. There had been many happy moments along the way, but they just couldn't erase the fact that he'd spent a large portion of her childhood high on whatever cocktail of drugs he could obtain at the time, most of them stolen from the pharmacy at the hospital he'd worked at.

It wasn't until Lizabeth was ten years old that she knew her father's addiction was toxic and destructive. Although she had tried to help him, it had too strong of a hold on his mind and she was too young and immature to deal with it properly. To make matters worse, Surgeon Rick was a high-functioning user and an alcoholic; despite either being drunk or completely high off his face, he could still carry on as if he was clean and he was in denial about the whole thing.

Lizabeth and her father co-existed in this same precarious state for years and still somehow managed to operate as a family. They'd even survived through his accidental overdoses and emergency hospital visits well into her seventeenth year of life.

Then everything changed on prom night when she met Jerry Smith.

Lizabeth discovered she was pregnant soon after and her life priorities shifted; suddenly her father was a villain that needed to be fixed or forgotten. After spending so many years trying to help him and ultimately failing, she chose the latter.

Being rejected by his own daughter sent Surgeon Rick into a chaotic downward spiral; he was so distraught by his mistakes that he tried to kill himself. He nearly succeeded in it as well, but was stolen from his reality in his final moments and was picked up by the Citadel of Ricks.

Lizabeth did not know this though; she only saw a selfish asshole who had abandoned her in her most desperate time of need. When he did not come back to see his firstborn grandchild, her resentment of him became even deeper.

One year passed and then another. Morty was born. Although Surgeon Rick had managed to shed most of his drug addiction problem through rehabilitation programs at the Citadel, the damage had already been done. When he tried to reconnect with his daughter and get to know his grandchildren, he was met with hostility; their long history had created a dangerous tension and the battle lines had been drawn. Conversations turned into arguments and attempts at reparation turned into accusations of falseness; it was easy for Lizabeth to call her father out on 'trying to change' when she only saw him lapsing back into old habits over the course of her life.

Trying to make it up felt like an impossibility, so Surgeon Rick resorted to supporting her in the only way he knew how – by throwing money at the problem. Lizabeth was all too happy to take it as well, especially when she was accepted into university.

She was perceived as greedy, self-centered and egotistical. He was perceived as inattentive, selfish, and it was easy to pick on him for his drug addiction because it wasn't a lie. It became so off-putting and hurtful that he stopped visiting again and resorted to leaving random wads of cash in care packages on her doorstep.

Returning to her was something that terrified him, and Surgeon Rick had put it off by making excuses. He'd played out this exact scenario many times in his head and ultimately avoided it. Yet against all better judgment, here he was. For Morty's sake. For Rick's sake. For his own, and for Lizabeth's.

Years and years of mistakes and negative sentiment had led to this moment. Father and daughter just stared at each other in the tense silence, neither side willing to make the first move and risk screwing up again. Both sides wanted to bury the hatchet but neither knew how to start the conversation.

Meanwhile, Ricktus observed the standoff, but he was impatient and wanted to move things along. "Come on, we have shit to do and nobody wants to be outside in this kind of weather."

The comment brought the surgeon back to reality and he covered for himself with a wide lopsided grin; it was much easier to hide behind a smile. "Y-yeah yeah, I'm on it!" He replied with far too much enthusiasm, internally cringing at how disgustingly fake he sounded. "Hey, sweetie. I know this is gonna be a big ask, but can we crash here for a while? Work has gotten hectic and I've had to take some home with me... i-is that OK?"

"Oh, dad..." The blonde haired female managed to whisper as she clutched her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turned white; she was trying to contain her own set of emotions, but had already become teary-eyed. "...you can stay for as long as you want."

Over the next twenty minutes, Rick's hospital bed and monitoring equipment were set up in the middle of the garage. Once that was done, both the surgeon and the doctor got back to work under the watchful eye of the Guard Ricks assigned to them; one of them hooked up a new bag of intravenous fluid and administered medication, while the other recorded vitals and paced around the bed to double check that everything looked normal.

Meanwhile, Lizabeth stood back and watched on; it had been too long since she had seen her father so functional and productive and it filled her with hope. Although she was familiar with the concept of the multiverse and the fact that other versions of him existed, seeing the different variants around him still managed to confuse her.

"So, dad," it was forced, but she did her best to not sound accusative. "Something big must have happened to bring you back here with... all of this."

"You don't know the half of it, sweetie." Surgeon Rick responded. "Look, I'll give you a proper rundown later, but all you need to know right now is that this guy is high profile and we need to take care of him until he's well enough to be discharged. You... think you'd be able to help us out?"

Lizabeth was completely taken aback; the fact that her father was even there and talking to her at all was a feat in itself, but now he was asking for her help as well. "Of course," she managed to get out, "I'll do whatever I can."

"Great." Surgeon Rick grabbed Morty from one of the Guard Ricks and immediately thrust him into her arms. "You can start with this guy. He's been through a bunch of shit and needs stability. Y-you think you could be his mom for a while?"

Lizabeth happily took him and cradled him in her arms. "What happened to his real mother?"

"She died." The surgeon replied matter-of-factly. "That Morty is an orphan and his Rick is the only family member he has left."

"Oh my god..." The blonde haired female found herself fighting back fresh tears as they filled her eyes, the comment tugging at her heart strings; she knew what it was like to lose her own mother. "I'll do anything I can."

Morty did not fuss as he was handed over to the new person and stared up at her face; it had been too long since he had seen his mother and this alternative version was more than adequate. As he cuddled into her chest, the tiniest utterance of a whimper came out of his mouth, and then a word that had been buried deep in his young mind for a long time. "M-mm... m-mom..."

Ricktus looked up from what he had been doing. "Where did that come from? I didn't know you could say that. You're just full of surprises, Morty."


Rick's sense of awareness was hazy at best; he was caught between the realm of wakefulness and dreams and no matter what he did, he just couldn't get his body to move for him.

He'd spent days like in this same blurry state but didn't know it as he couldn't keep track of time. During his fleeting moments of consciousness, he heard a constant rhythmic beeping somewhere off to the right side of him. He was also aware of a dull ache in the pit of his stomach and under his ribcage, but the painkillers and sedatives he'd been dosed up on made it more than tolerable.

Sometimes he heard others dabbling in the immediate space surrounding him, while at other times they stopped to hover nearby. He could never quite work out what they were doing or what they were saying, though; their voices were muffled like his ears had been smothered by cotton wool.

His active mind was bored with the lack of stimulation and it conjured up the strangest dreams; sometimes they were so vivid that they blurred the lines of reality itself. When it ran out of dreams, it began drawing from his memory.

Right from the start, Rick Sanchez knew he was going to be different. He was born to a loveless couple who were alcoholics and also inattentive parents. He could tell the difference between a suspension, a solution, and a colloid long before he could read or write, yet his mother was never satisfied with his intelligence and always demanded more of him. His childhood was unhappy but uneventful; he merely existed from day to day and learned mostly on his own. He could also remember his first taste of alcohol – it was cheap bourbon from his father's liquor cabinet.

For as long as he lived, he would never forget the beating he received for stealing it.

Because of his high IQ, he hated school; he saw it as an organized idiot farm and he refused to participate in it. He remembered being completely opposed to the higher education system when he tried to complete a college degree in physics, and being so disgruntled with people trying to steal his knowledge that he built himself a spaceship and abandoned planet Earth entirely; it had nothing that could hold his interest when the universe beyond it was calling his name.

It was easy to escape his old life; his parents were shit and so was the entire human race.

He found freedom in the near-limitless vacuum of space, and being among the stars gave him the silence he needed to think and innovate. He soon discovered life on other planets and became jaded with them as well; wherever there was life, there were dumb creatures with selfish natures, just like humans. He made no friends and turned into a lone intergalactic roamer.

However, Rick's own human biology would start to work against him - he was a social creature at heart and being alone did not suit him no matter how much he tried to deny it. He was also young, reckless, and had the libido of a teenage boy. His space adventures soon turned into elaborate fun ways to gamble, to get drunk or laid, or even to get high, and he found himself in the intergalactic gun trafficking trade as a means of paying for his debaucherous lifestyle.

It was through sheer random circumstance that he came across Bird World; the planet had ordered an urgent shipment of guns from his boss because it was being invaded, and Rick had been assigned to send the order. It was here that he had his first run-in with the Galactic Federation; what was meant to be a simple drop-off mission turned into an all-out skirmish and the young scientist was caught in the middle of the fray. The bureaucrats' domineering attitude enraged him so much that he fought back against them; he believed the galaxy belonged to nobody and it was bad for the business if Bird World fell to their tyrannical regime.

During the firefight, Rick would save his first lifelong friend – a young feathered male with an unpronounceable name. He decided to call him 'Birdperson' and the name had stuck ever since. However, Rick had been shot in the chest during the fight and was nursed back to health by the treetop community; they weren't about to let their strange new flightless ally die after he'd stood up for them.

His time among the bird people left an impression on him – these were the first selfless lifeforms he had ever met. Deeming them worthy of his time and protection, Rick abandoned his gun shipment racket and taught the population how to manufacture firearms directly for themselves. With the help of his inventions and leadership qualities, the Galactic Federation and its residual forces were successfully pushed off the planet for good.

This move angered his boss; once he got word that one of his best gun runners had turned rogue, an assassination attempt was made. It was unsuccessful though – the bird people would make sure of that. Their strange little human ally had almost single-handedly liberated them and they would never forget it.

Rick's actions did not go unnoticed. His name would soon be known throughout the galaxy and the resistance movement arrived to meet with the one who had given Bird World their freedom. Among their ranks were the Squanches of Planet Squanch and Squanchy; an extroverted feline-like creature who only became friends with Rick initially because he wanted to learn how his mind worked and use it to his advantage. However, even he found himself liking the human before too long; his brash honest nature was refreshing.

A trade was made and protection was granted to Bird World on the condition that they would help join the larger fight against the Federation. This came with another perk – the resistance movement had superior spaceship technology, which meant they could easily fly throughout the galaxy.

The risky and dangerous jobs were always Rick's favorite, and so he elected to start gathering intel from the species directly under the threat of invasion. With Birdperson and Squanchy at his side, he started a fake band called 'The Flesh Curtains' to use as a cover and touring multiple planets became his life for years afterwards. Although the band was legitimately successful, fame and the life of a rock-star never truly suited him; even though Rick had limitless access to as much drugs and sex as he could ever want, he found himself lonely for human company and longing to return to planet Earth to find it.

Just as he was arranging a replacement guitarist on Glapflap's third moon, he was caught up in the whirlwind of one of the most significant fights yet: The Battle of Blood Ridge. It was also one of the bloodiest fights he'd ever been in before or since; countless casualties were recorded on both sides. He remembered the towering piles of bodies, the overpowering stench of death, the funeral pyres that burned for days, and the ashes that littered the sky like snow. The carnage was so deeply ingrained into his mind that he'd have nightmares about it for the rest of his life.

He was done with conflict and needed to escape, but returning home was the start of the worst mistakes he'd ever make.

Prowling seedy bars on planet Earth had always been an easy way to meet people. After a few random flings with both men and ladies alike, Rick found Diane. Despite his opinions on love, he was gullible and quickly fell head over heels for her. One thing led to another, and then a night of heated passion without protection led to the conception of a child.

Initially, he was overjoyed at the thought of becoming a father. However, disappointment sank in almost as soon as his daughter was born; she was beautiful and healthy, but he would have preferred a son. Having her around meant also living the same mundane domestic lifestyle he had grown up in, and he resented her for weighing him down. He knew it wasn't her fault and he hated himself for feeling that way about her, but there it was all the same.

He hated commitment, he hated being confined, and despite his best efforts to stay grounded, he abandoned the daughter he should have been there for to resume the fight against the Federation.

His life became a game of back and forth; he was either running away from bureaucrats to his family or vice versa. He'd turn up on Diane's doorstep at all random hours of the day or night, and months would often pass before she'd see him again. Sometimes he would come home with black eyes, bruises, or cracked ribs from bar fights, and sometimes he'd even show up with gunshot wounds from skirmishes.

Beth grew up with sporadic memories of her father. Although her mother was primarily the one who had raised her, Rick was her favorite. Rick was also her 'good guy' – he never disciplined her and would take her out for ice-cream whenever he visited. She could do no wrong in her father's eyes.

Although Rick and Diane had never officially broken up, Diane saw it fit to seek out a new man in his absence – a doctor from the rich part of town. When Rick discovered the affair, he set fire to the man's car. Divorce papers were thrust in his face along with the order to leave and never return. In spite of the truth, Rick allowed Beth to think that he had left them; he didn't want her blaming her mother for his absence.

It was easier to be angry with someone who wasn't there.

Then one day, many years later, Rick got the phone call from his worst nightmare - Diane had become sick with terminal cancer and Beth was seventeen and pregnant. It was like a massive slap to the face and Rick abandoned his duties, his friends, and the fight against the Federation to take care of the new family. After Beth and Jerry were married in a hasty court office wedding, he set them up with their first home and stuck around to make sure they were well provided for.

When his first grandchild arrived, Rick felt guilty for being absent from his daughter's life and swore things would be different. Holding Summer in his arms for the first time was like a grounding force; the value of the universe itself felt like it was coalesced into six squirming pounds of life and in that instant, his existence didn't seem so hollow and pointless any more.

It was more worthy of his protection and time than Bird World had been.

A couple of years passed and Rick hung around in the background to take care of his growing family. Beth became pregnant a second time and when Morty was born, everything changed again. One of his most vivid memories was the ability to soothe the baby boy no matter what; he always stopped crying when Grandpa Rick was holding him in his arms.

Morty loved him right from the start and Rick found it easy to love him back; he was hooked, hook, line, and sinker. The generational gap no longer mattered - he'd never had a son, but now he had a grandson. As far as he was concerned, life was perfect. He could have done without Jerry being in the picture, but he had merit for being a more attentive father than he ever was, and having two grandkids around was great.

And just like that, it was all gone in a flash of blinding white fire and shattered glass; the Galactic Federation had taken everything away from him just because he dared to stand up against them. They'd robbed him of his youth and his innocence, and now they'd robbed him of his family and his home planet.

Every fiber of his being called for retribution, and although he vaguely remembered destroying them by blowing them up, the memory felt out of place somehow.

As the images continued to flow through his mind, he wondered if this was what it was like to die; his entire life was literally flashing before his eyes. Before he could entertain the thought any further, he could taste the harshness of citric acid in his throat and the voices around him started to become more clear.

"Administering counteractive surfactant to the oxygen supply," a stoic voice stated. "Add 10CCs of the reversal drug I gave you to his IV line. It's time to wake the bastard up."

"Got it," a female quickly replied; her voice was so familiar that he would never forget it. "Done."

Rick felt the heavy fog being lifted as he came to once again, but the pain became more pronounced and throbbing. He let out a pathetic groan and tried to move his limbs; his legs were cramped and stiff like they hadn't been used in years.

"Is that movement voluntary?"

"Yes, absolutely," the clinical voice returned. "This is exactly what you want to see."

Rick began to take inventory of his body. He could still feel and wiggle his toes – check. He still had them. Further inspection revealed he could move both arms too.

"Hey," a quiet gravelly voice came from somewhere overhead, unmistakably belonging to a Rick. "Welcome back. Can you understand me?"

"It might be better to stand back and let him wake up some more," the female suggested. "If he's anything like my dad, he'll want his own personal space."

Rick cracked his eyes open to the sight of florescent lights on the ceiling. He spent a moment focusing on them, and then he was aware of himself and his surroundings; he was wearing an oxygen mask, there were multiple tubes hooked up to him, and he appeared to be laid out on a bed in his own garage for some reason.

At least he was warm.

A quick look around the room stopped short as his eyes fell on her. Beth looked exactly as he remembered, though some small details were off - her hair was tied back and she was wearing a set of clinical scrubs that he'd never seen before. He didn't understand it; his daughter was supposed to be dead. He'd seen her unconscious in the car along with Summer mere seconds before the vitrification beam had hit planet Earth.

"H-h... hey, sweetie," he weakly forced out. "W-why... why are you here?"

Lizabeth glanced back at the doctor. "That sounds like cognitive thought to me. He has a stutter, but that's normal, isn't it?"

Ricktus nodded in approval. "Yes. Keep observing the patient and tell me what you see. You'll learn quite a lot out of this if you pay attention."

"I don't get it... is this the next place? Y-you died... didn't you?" Rick managed to say next, immediately recoiling at how pathetic and confused he sounded. "Where am I?"

The blonde haired female stood at his bedside and sighed; she'd already been briefed about this Rick's story and reality but didn't know how to explain his current situation to him. "You're in my garage, dad... uh, Rick? What am I supposed to call you?"

"I-I watched you die," remembering it felt like a like a knife to the core and his eyes became heavy with unshed tears. "Both y-you and Summer did, I saw it happen... I-I tried to save you, b-but the car door wouldn't budge. I tried, Beth, I really did... I-I'm sorry I couldn't save you..."

Ricktus stood on the other side of the bed. "Can you tell me your name?"

"I-it's Rick," Rick grumpily stuttered, finding himself irritated by such a dumb obvious question. "W-what's yours?"

"That shit never gets old, does it?" Ricktus began shining a flashlight in his eyes. "Fine, wise-ass. What's your dimension number?"

"I-I saved Morty," Rick ignored him and returned his attention to Lizabeth. "I took him out in the sun just like you wanted." His brows furrowed in a deep scowl and he snapped his eyes shut, objecting to the brightness. "You are dead, aren't you? A-am I?"

"No, but you gave it your best shot." Lizabeth smiled back at him. "You died twice on the operating table, apparently. We're just checking you over for signs of cerebral hypoxia now. Is that OK?"

As the fog continued to lift from his mind, the female's explanation made more sense. Suddenly, the rest came flooding back to him; the events that led to him being on the ship in Dimension Q-316, the plan to blow it up, saving the alternate version of himself from being shot, and then what little followed after it.

"O-oh god..." He swatted the tears away with a hand, angry at himself for allowing such an emotion to crack through his defenses in front of other people. "...you... y-you cheated me out of my own death?" As he reasoned through the two pieces of conflicting information, he realized that he was still alive and part of him loathed the fact.

Lizabeth didn't know what to say and stepped back to give him space. "This seems more like confusion than brain damage."

"I think you could be right." Ricktus stood over his patient and forcefully pried his eyes open to shine the flashlight in them again. "Pupil dilation looks normal. We'll run an MRI and a full cognitive profile test later just to cover our asses. The Council will want them for their records."

"Where... w-where's Morty?" Rick shakily smacked the hands away and pulled off his oxygen mask to wipe the excess surfactant powder off his face. "Is he still with Birdperson, o-or what?" After moving his elbows either side of him, he made an attempt at sitting up. He was met with immediate resistance; two firm yet gentle fingers prodded him in the sternum. He was so weak that he was easily pushed back down onto the bed behind him.

"I strongly suggest not doing that," Ricktus grumpily instructed. "You have internal and external stitches, and you really don't want to tear them."

"Your Morty is doing fine," Lizabeth answered in the attempt to reassure him. "Before we woke you up, he was playing in the living room with my own son and Summer. Jerry is probably about to feed them, it's nearly lunch time."

"Jerry? What? Where am I exactly, and h-h... h-how long have I been here?" Rick slowly shook his head as he tried to make sense of his surroundings; the counteractive drugs obviously still needed more time to work. "Why am I here?"

"I'm still trying to understand exactly why they picked my garage, but you're here because you've sustained a rather nasty injury to the abdomen and you needed surgery and a liver transplant." Lizabeth calmly explained. "That was about five days ago. You've also been poisoned and you'll spend a few more days with us until it fully washes out of your system, but it looks like you'll make a full recovery."

"F-five DAYS!?" Rick loudly yelped. "N-no, no, no, I-I gotta get outta here right now!" He made a much more aggressive attempt at sitting up.

"Whoa, take it easy!" Ricktus pinned him down a second time. "Where do you think you're going in such a hurry? Your Morty's being taken care of and there's nothing you need to do except lie there and relax while we do everything for you."

"Should I sedate him?" Lizabeth wondered.

"Well, you could, but we literally just woke him back up. He needs know everything that's happened since he's been out." Ricktus withdrew his hand once he was satisfied that Rick had settled again. "Why don't you busy yourself by looking at the medical records and see what needs updating? He and I need to talk."

With considerable effort, Rick bent up one of his legs and began trying to work the stiffness out of it. "I-if this is going to turn into the kind of bullshit I think i-it is... then I don't want to talk."

"You've barely been awake five minutes and you're already being obnoxious. I hope this isn't a taste of things to come." The doctor let out a loud irritated sigh. "First things first, you need to tell us if you feel nauseous. If you were to throw up now, you could rip the internal stitches in your stomach. Same thing goes for the pain - don't feel like you have act like a tough guy and rough it out. So... how are you feeling?"

"L-like... like I don't wanna be here?" Although his voice was weak, Rick still managed to sound indignant. "O-or like a really, really, healthy person. That means I can leave, right?"

Ricktus rolled his eyes. "You may also feel a burning sensation down your back like you have kidney stones. We, uh, discovered what was wrong with you and the medicine is making your body work overtime."

"Oh yeah?" Rick was vaguely curious. "It wasn't radiation poisoning was it? B-because I told you so."

"Well, YOU thought it was nothing and you were wrong too, so there you go." Ricktus's tone was scolding. "As I've told you before, when I first saw you through the interdimensional goggles, both you and your Morty looked like you were sick and dying. I injected you with the curative serum developed from my hive of hybrid insects and you were fine for a while, but you've... had a bad reaction to it. Your body was supposed to eliminate the spent byproduct and never did. Instead, it accumulated in your body, mostly in your liver and bone marrow. Your liver was dying anyway, but this merely finished it off faster." He turned his head away to hide the look of guilt. "It... it explains everything. The nausea, the gradual rate of failure, and the reason why your immune system and bloodwork was so terrible."

"So... y-you're saying I would have been perfectly fine, but you made me sick so you could fix it?" Rick felt smug. "That's pretty... f-fucked up if you ask me."

"Well no, not really, your liver would have died on its own eventually. But fine, the reason you're here is my fault, so go ahead and gloat about it. I deserve that much." The doctor grumpily returned. "It should have been obvious, but I was so hung up on discovering something new and interesting that I overlooked what was in front of me." A frustrated noise escaped him. "It was too simple to be liver failure on its own, because a first year medical student could have picked that. We would have found out what was wrong eventually, but you decided to get shot first, didn't you? The operation basically killed two birds with one stone."

"S-so... I'm going to live?" The scientist sounded genuinely disappointed.

"Yes," came the immediate reply. "You should consider yourself lucky, B-526. Maybe you really are too stubborn to die."

Rick was silent as he thought through everything; it all made sense except for one thing. "M-Mm... Morty was fine the whole time, wasn't he?"

"Yes. We had him checked over, but he remained asymptomatic because his body got rid of the byproduct like it was supposed to." As Ricktus stood over the other, he folded his arms across his chest and his tone became condescending. "He's young and healthy, and doesn't drink like he's trying to forget his problems. Which brings me to my next point-"

"Fuck you," Rick hissed back at him, "I-I do what I want."

"Not any more, you don't." Ricktus countered. "You're a liver transplant recipient now. The Council funded your operation, which means they're not going to issue you with another one, which means you're going to have to lay off the alcohol on a permanent basis."

"Yeah, right... a-as if that's gonna..." Rick muttered. He tried to add more to his statement but couldn't; the rest of his speech devolved into indecipherable nonsense.

"You're already on drugs to help you with the withdrawal symptoms, but you're going to have to..." The doctor trailed off. "Ah shit, what happened? Talk to me."

Rick's next response was a soft hum; he was dreamily content and felt like his head was swimming. It was all he could manage as he drifted off back to sleep.

"What the..." Ricktus glared up at Lizabeth. "What did you do?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, you told me to update his medical records." Lizabeth frowned as she pulled the syringe out of the IV cannula she had been holding. "I gave him more morphine because he was due for it. Did you not want me to?"

"Yeah, I deserve that. Carry on." Ricktus settled back in his chair and busied himself with other work. The conversation with Rick would have to continue later; there was still much to discuss.


When Rick woke up again, he began to count the lights on the ceiling of the garage; it was a sight he figured he'd have to get used to if he wasn't allowed to sit up. When he heard the sound of children's laughter echoing up the hallway, he was intrigued enough to keep listening; one of the high-pitched screams was recognizable enough to be Morty's. It was followed by another identical in pitch, and another that sounded like it belonged to a young girl. It was only Jerry's scolding that made it stop again, and all was silent. It was soon broken by another loud giggle, a shriek, and then it began anew; the chorus of screams had become a fun game.

"What the hell are they doing?" He wondered as he glared up at the doctor, who was seated in a chair beside him and reading a book. Rick read the cover title and had to snort with amusement – 'Optimizing Quality in Electronics' – he was obviously filling the gaps in his knowledge base.

Ricktus did not look up. "They're screwing around, just like children are supposed to. I would have thought that much was obvious."

"Hey, you know what? Fuck you." Rick hissed back. "Go make yourself useful and get Morty for me, I-I wanna see him."

"Fine, but answer one question for me first... why did you save me back on the ship? You could have left me there, but you didn't. Whether I live or die has no bearing on your existence. In fact, you would have been better off if our paths never crossed at all." The doctor's expression was unreadable as he peered over the spine of his book. "I want to understand why you do things. You've never made sense to me."

"Phh, a-all this time and you're still asking that?" Rick grumped back. "I keep telling you, I do what I want, and when I don't like something, I change it. I didn't like what was happening, s-so... fill in the blanks." He shrugged. "You're supposed to be me, but you're like a shitty version of me because you've allowed yourself to become complacent along the way. Y-you can do better any time you feel like it... all you need to do is stop cowering and living vicariously through others."

"That didn't answer anything."

"Yeah it did. Do I have to spell it out for you? I thought you were smarter than that!" Rick raised his voice. "You get to live another day and correct your stupidity, so take it and run. What are you still doing here? I bet someone ordered you to watch me, right?"

Ricktus grunted with discontentment, but did not say anything.

"Yeah, I thought so," Rick was a little smug over having guessed correctly, even though it was predictable. "Was it one of those Council morons? Get your head out of their asses already!"

Ricktus was hesitant now; he could have easily engaged the scientist on what he thought about the topic, especially after everything that had happened during the Council hearing, but there was still much he needed to say. "I owe you for what you've done, you know. Twice, actually. You saved my ass and it's my fault for making you sick, so if there's anything you ever need-"

"NO. No more favors." Rick firmly cut him off. "That turned out SO well the last time I took you idiots up on your offer. What happened with that, anyway? A-am I gonna be on trial for murder or some shit?"

"You were cleared of any wrongdoing almost as quickly as it came up." The answer was immediate. "You were right – all evidence pointed to an accidental death. At most, you were only there after the fact."

"Y-yeah, I told you so!" Rick harshly retorted. "Maybe next time you'll actually listen to me, you arrogant fuck." He took a quick look around the room. "Hey, I've seen you and the other version of Beth hanging around, but not that C-711 guy. Where is he?"

Ricktus silently slid off his chair and left the garage.

"Well? Whose dimension is this, anyway?" Rick called out to him. "Seems a little shady to be working out of someone's garage, d-don't you think?!"

He didn't get an answer.

Instead, the doctor returned with Morty and deposited him at Rick's left side, away from all his wires and tubing. He picked up the book he had been reading and sat back in his chair to supervise; he wanted to give Rick what he'd asked for, but he also knew Morty was young and had grabby little hands that could interfere.

Morty was happy to be carried around initially, but seeing Rick again changed his entire demeanor; even though he didn't smell like he was supposed to, the little boy seemed to instinctively know who he was. His first response was a loud whimper, and then he was so overcome with emotion that he burst into tears, clinging onto him for dear life. It was the only way he could tell him how much he had missed him, and let him know that being away from him for so long was a traumatic experience.

"Holy shit," Rick brushed his hand through Morty's hair in the attempt to soothe him. "What the hell happened to YOU while I was away...?"

"Think about this from his perspective," Ricktus explained over the top of the racket. "In a short amount of time, he's moved from his home to a weird place in the trees, to my ship, then back to the hippie bird tree house, then to the Council of Ricks, and finally, to here. It's too much to ask of anyone, let alone a small child. He doesn't know what's happening at all, and what's worse, he's had to make the last part of the journey without you."

"Yeah, fair enough." Rick had to concede to that one. "Fucking hell, Morty... s-shut up, would ya? I'm here now... a-and I'm not going anywhere if I can help it." His left arm moved around the little boy and hugged him into his side.

Even though Morty practically buried his face into his his grandfather's flank, he was gentle; he seemed to understand that Rick was hurt and didn't want to make it worse. After he'd settled down again, he snuggled into him and archived his warmth and new scent into memory.

"See, that's better. Good job, little buddy." Rick ruffled a hand through his hair, and for a moment he envied the boy's innocence; his was long dead.

"Good luck trying to get rid of him after this," the doctor dryly mused. "He's not going to let you out of his sight."

"Yeah, guess whose fault that is. If you screwed my grandson up worse than he already was, I'm holding you accountable." Rick coldly spat back. "You still haven't answered my other question. Where is that C-711 guy? He's supposed to be here, isn't he? I-is this his garage or yours?"

"It's his," Ricktus looked away, seeming conflicted with what he was about to say next. "I don't really know how to tell you this, but," he set his book aside and acted out his best impression of concern. "I'd tell you to sit down first, but, well..."

"Just spit it out, moron!"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, you're really going there, aren't you?" Lizabeth looked up from what she was doing and the look of disgust on her face was obvious. "Look, it's your choice, but I don't want any part in it. You're as bad as him, honestly!" She shook her head as she stepped out of the room.

Rick's eyes suspiciously tracked her every move until she was gone. "W-what the hell is she talking about?"

"Rick... there's something you need to know about C-711," Ricktus turned his head away. "There's been some trouble, and, well... he's dead."

Rick was completely silent for a moment, visibly shaken by the news; he had barely known the other Rick, but couldn't stand the thought of losing another friend.

"...s-seriously?"