Rick stared at Summer.
No, surely not, Rick thought. Summer was fucking with him. She had to be. He'd seen other Mortys walking around the Citadel with their Ricks... They'd all looked like dipshits, but they were healthy dipshits.
"Are...are y-you fucking w-with me?" Rick asked. He knew, deep down, that Summer was most likely being serious but he still had to ask.
Summer crossed her arms over her chest defensively, leaning into herself. "No, grandpa Rick," She snapped. "I'm serious. Why would I joke about that? My little brother's basically paralyzed, does that sound funny to you?"
Rick's expression changed from disbelief to resignation. "F-fuckin' hell," He muttered to himself.
Summer looked up and over to Rick. Her expression softened as well. "Look, like I said, it's probably better to ask Mom. She can go into more detail if you care." And just like that, Summer ended the conversation, getting up and walking away.
Rick watched her retreating form and sighed, facing the Tv as Summer went outside.
Rick was, for once in a long time, at a loss of what to do. Rick had planned on taking Morty on millions of adventures! Could he still do that with a kid who couldn't walk?
"Goddammit, Rick, you s-sound like an ableist..." Rick groaned to himself.
He sat there for only a few more seconds before he finally decided that he should put his plate up. So, picking up his now empty plate, Rick crossed the living room and entered the kitchen.
Beth and Jerry had stopped with their fighting, and Beth was drinking a glass of wine while Jerry practically sulked in the corner.
"H-hey, Beth, th-the food was great," Rick said, laying his plate down on the counter next to the sink.
Beth beamed, placing her glass of wine on a nearby table. "Aww, thank you, Dad."
Jerry muttered something unintelligible to himself and Rick sent a smug look his way. Jerry bristled upon receiving Rick's look.
Rick reached for the sponge and Beth, seeing that he was about to wash the plate himself, leaped out to grab his hand. "No, Dad, you don't have to do that! I can wash your plate for you," Beth offered, taking Rick's plate.
Rick smiled and placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. Internally, he grimaced to himself. Yes, he may 'love' (even when regarding his kin, Rick still stood by his definition of love because it was correct) his daughter, but there was only so long that he could be so... lovey-dovey towards her.
Rick placed himself at his earlier seat and Jerry emerged from his corner. His eyes were narrowed and his arms were crossed—almost the epitome of a man who had once been the man of the house but was quickly dethroned from his title in less than an hour. Pretty pathetic, if you were to ask Rick.
"So," Jerry began, and Rick rolled his eyes, "Beth told me you'll be... staying with us."
Rick nodded. Rick knew his grin was hubristic and he took pride in it. "Y—UUP."
Jerry scowled. "Any, I don't know, idea as to how long you're staying?"
Beth turned around and glared at her husband. "Jerry—" She started, but Rick cut her off.
"No, no, it's o-okay, Beth. It's—it's a genuine question, I get it," Rick reassured her. Beth quirked her lips and turned back to scrubbing away at the plate. Rick's devilish grin returned as he addressed Jerry. "And to answer your question, Jerry, I don't know how long I'm staying."
Jerry looked like he was about to pitch a fit, but Rick pointed towards Beth, causing Jerry to shut his mouth immediately.
"And that's no problem at all, right, Jerry?" Beth said, turning around and drying her hands on a towel.
Jerry's shoulders tensed. "Yes, honey," He said through clenched teeth.
Beth looked pleased with Jerry's response. Seeing that everything was apparently at peace, Rick decided to ask about what'd been on his mind during the whole conversation. "So uh, Beth... w-what's wrong with M-Morty?"
Rick almost frowned at his way of phrasing it—but it was out there already, no taking it back now.
Beth bit her lip and even Jerry had an identical look of hesitation on his face. The room was tense and Rick had no idea how to ease it.
Beth cleared her throat. "Well... what do you mean?" She inquired. Rick could tell that she knew exactly what he meant, but Rick answered her anyway.
"I was just talking to Summer and—and she said that Morty was s—IGH—ck. What's. Wrong? "
Beth exhaled quietly and ran a hand over her face. She reached for her discarded wine glass and took a gulp.
"It's... Kind of complicated, Dad..." Beth said.
Rick interrupted, "Well I am the smartest man in the multiverse. I think I could understand some basic pathology."
Beth gave a small quirk of her lips at that and took another sip of wine. Jerry, still wearing a look of unease, approached her and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. Beth didn't flinch, surprising Rick, and instead leaned into her husband's touch.
"Alright, Dad. You wanted to know, so now I'm telling you. I mean, you would've found out sooner or later, what with Morty having to come downstairs to eat dinner with us, but I guess we're doing the sooner route," Beth said. "Morty... Morty has multiple sclerosis. I assume you know of it, Dad?"
Rick nodded, wincing. He was aware of it and what it did to its host and it was not pretty. "I'm fair-fairly familiar with it."
Beth bobbed her head. "Well, we only caught it when he was eleven, but his neurologist thinks that—due to the severity of his condition now—Morty has had it for a while. Ever since he was six, I think." Jerry nodded along with Beth's statement.
"H-how—URP—how s-severe is Morty's condition?" Rick asked. He had an idea building up in his mind that had the potential to benefit him and allow Morty to come on adventures with the scientist. It all depended on one variable though.
Though the question had been aimed at Beth, this time, Jerry answered. "Well, I'm no expert, Beth's gone to almost every appointment, but Morty's MS has eaten up the Maryland—"
"Myelin," Beth corrected.
"Didn't I say that?" Jerry asked, abruptly taking his hand off of her shoulder.
"No, you said the state, Maryland. It's myelin."
Rick, sensing that the two could go on for hours, interrupted. "Morty's MS h-h-has eaten up what now?" He said in exasperation, veering the couple back in the right direction.
Beth coughed pointedly and continued to say what Jerry hadn't. "Morty's MS has eaten up the myelin on most of his nerves below his hip, which gives him a pretty limited sense of mobility. And, just recently, there's been a lack of muscle strength in his respiratory system that requires him to be put on oxygen while he sleeps."
Rick frowned, tapping a finger on his chin. "So would you say th—AUGH—at there's still some untouched nerves in the lower half of his central nervous system?"
Beth looked at him quizzically. "I...guess?"
Rick considered it. He knew of a planet that had an extremely advanced medicinal field, but he wasn't sure if they had invented neuroregenerative medicine yet—at least, medicine to heal Morty's nerves to his degree.
"If... if you're thinking of curing his MS, I don't know if you should tell him," Beth said. Rick was startled out of his thoughts, turning his focus to his offspring. "MS is, quite frankly, untreatable. And Dad, I know full well that you're the smartest man in the world, and I admire you for that, but do you think that you can treat even the untreatable? I think... as much as it crushes me, that you shouldn't get Morty's hopes up. He's been so depressed ever since his diagnosis and I'd hate to see what kind of depression he'd spiral into if he was told that he really couldn't be helped."
The kitchen was silent as Beth's words processed in all three of their minds.
"Well fuck," Rick breathed. Suddenly, he stood up. "Can you tell me where his room is?"
Beth looked taken aback by the topic change, as did Jerry, though Jerry looked at Rick in suspicion. "Uh...What are you doing?" asked Beth.
Rick sighed. "Look, I-I'm going to have to-t-to see the full extent of his disability in o—OURGH—der to see what all I can help with. But after that, I'll stop, kid won't even have to know. Where's his room?" Rick repeated.
"Dad, I don't know if that's such a good idea, he's sleeping—"
"G-good, even more of chance that he won't know," Rick justified.
Beth ran a hand through her hair. "Fine," She relented hesitantly. "Go upstairs, his room is the last one on the right."
Rick nodded and turned to leave.
He heard a whispered conversation erupt as he exited the kitchen. "Beth, are you sure about this?" Jerry asked, a look of concern on his face.
Beth hardened her jaw. "No. But if anyone can cure Morty, it'd be my dad."
Rick steeled himself. He barely knew the kid, and he was probably annoying as fuck if he was like any of the Mortys from different dimensions were, but goddammit, Rick would try. After all, he needed a sidekick.
Rick approached the door and pressed an ear to it. He heard no sounds signaling that anyone was awake, so he twisted the doorknob and walked in.
The room was dark, but from what Rick could see of it, relatively clean, especially since its inhabitant was a teen boy. A disabled teen boy, Rick thought, which, yeah, his lack of movement would affect his environment, but still.
He squinted, trying to make out everything in the dark, as it seemed that Morty's curtains were draped over his window.
Rick could make out a figure on the bed, which was obviously Morty. He approached him, taking in Morty's form.
Even in the darkness, Rick could make out Morty's sleeping face. His high cheekbones were almost jutting out of his face. His skin seemed pale, almost translucent, even in the dark, which certainly set him apart from all the other Mortys who had a slight tan. He also wore a nasal cannula which appeared to be connected to an oxygen concentrator near his bed.
In the dark, Rick couldn't 100% tell what state Morty was in, but judging by a short glance at his stick-like arms, he was certainly scrawnier than what was healthy.
Suddenly, Morty stirred, causing Rick to halt in his investigation. He wouldn't have typically cared if he had been seen in someone's room when they woke up, but since this would be Morty's first time seeing Rick (that he remembered) he would have no fucking idea who the hell Rick was, so Rick decided it was best to get out before he would seriously scare the kid. And besides, he really didn't need any annoying questions concerning who Rick was.
Exiting the room as quietly as he could, Rick exhaled, pressing his body weight against the now-closed door.
From what Rick could see in the dark, his grandson was not in good condition.
He'd just have to wait for dinner, when Morty was supposed to come and eat with them, to see how the boy was faring. It couldn't be that bad. It wouldn't be anything Rick couldn't fix.
Rick tried not to tell himself otherwise.
Morty Smith woke up as he heard his mother shout through the house that dinner was ready. Morty groaned and stretched as much as he could in his bed. His leg muscles gave sad little muscle spasms and Morty sighed. He stretched his arms in the air as he heard footsteps approaching his bedroom door.
His door cracked open as Morty rubbed his eyes. He could see through his eyelids that his overhead light had been turned on, and he sensed someone approaching his bed.
"H-hey, S-Summer," Morty stuttered.
Summer didn't look at him as she approached his oxygen concentrator. "Hey, dork," she said.
Morty sat up in his bed and faced his sister. She wore a light smile as she twisted the knobs and dials to turn off his oxygen for him. Morty reached towards his face to take his nasal cannula out, reaching behind his ears to rip the fabric tape that kept them secure off.
Morty laid the nasal cannula on his bedside table, making a mental note to replace the cannula later. He grabbed a pair of jeans on his bed and slid them on over his boxers.
Summer stood up, having finished adjusting Morty's oxygen generator, and turned towards Morty.
"W-w-what are we having f-for dinner?" Morty asked as he slid out of his bed. He winced as he tried to support himself on his feet, and Summer caught his forearm, steadying him. This was their nightly routine, and they'd done it so much that they'd both perfected it, but it still humiliated Morty every time that he couldn't even stand by himself.
"Steak and mashed potatoes," Summer replied, helping him walk to the door.
Morty raised an eyebrow. "We n-never have s-steak. W-what's t-the occasion?"
Summer shrugged. "We have a guest."
Morty furrowed his brows. He looked at his sister as if she was crazy. "Who?"
Summer rolled her eyes. "God, Morty, you're curious today. You'll see when we get you downstairs."
Morty huffed impatiently as the two neared the stairs. This was where Morty's legs typically got wobbly, so Summer gripped his arm tighter.
"I-I-I'm not g-gonna fall down th-the goddamn s-stairs, Summer," Morty said as her grip got almost unbearably tight.
"You might, you have before," Summer reminded him with a smirk.
"O-okay, that was o-one t-time, Summer, a-a-and I was high on p-pain killers! T-that barely c-counts."
"Whatever you say, dweeb," Summer said teasingly.
They were at the bottom of the stairs now, and Summer, fortunately, loosened her grip to something much more bearable. She had Morty sit down in his wheelchair that was parked by the front door and wheeled Morty to the dining room. Summer walked Morty to his spot before sitting down herself.
Morty instantaneously noticed the new person seated at the head of the table. It was honestly hard not to notice him. He had crazy eye-catching blue hair, grayish skin, and wore a lab coat. He also seemed to be looking at Morty as if he was in deep thought. His gaze almost seemed judgmental. Okay, who the hell is this guy? Morty asked himself.
Beth suddenly came out from the kitchen and noticed her son staring at the odd man. "Morty," She said, catching his attention, "this is your grandpa Rick."
Morty bit his lip in curiosity. He'd heard that name before, he was sure of it. Suddenly, a flood of memories came rushing into his mind, and he cocked his head at the man. "L-like, the one y-you t-t-told us stories about?" Morty asked his mom.
"That's him," Summer answered for Beth.
"He'll be staying with us for a while," Beth said, sitting down in her seat. Jerry, who was sitting across from Morty, scrunched his face up in distaste, and it was quite obvious to Morty that his father was not fond of Rick.
"H-h-hey, Morty," Rick said, suddenly breaking his thoughtful silence.
"H-hi," said Morty, flushing slightly. Seeing both Beth and Summer begin to eat, Morty held his fork and began to pick at his still steaming mashed potatoes, following their lead.
The sound of utensils clinking against plates filled the room as everyone took their first bites. Rick made a humming noise, attracting Morty's attention.
"Mmmm, Beth, this—this is good, real good. I'm sure your mother would be pr—URP—oud," Rick said after he swallowed his food. Morty looked over to his mother, who appeared to have practically melted to mush at Rick's approval.
"Thanks, Dad," She said, wearing a warm smile. Morty staggered, seeing his mom's expression. It'd been forever since he'd seen his mother wear such a big smile.
Meanwhile, Jerry had inhaled loudly through his nose, but everyone paid him no mind.
"So, Mom, what happened at work today?" Summer asked as she lifted a forkful of steak to her mouth.
"Oh, nothing much, only had to give one horse surgery today, something minor, so I got to come home early," Beth said nonchalantly.
Rick suddenly sneered. "A-a-and what about you, Jerry?"
Jerry shrugged. "Not much happened, it was a regular day in the office. Had to attend a board meeting—they should be called a bored meeting, am I right?" Jerry joked.
Nobody laughed. Morty cringed.
Jerry gave a long-suffering sigh and continued his story. "Some asshole almost spilled his hot coffee on me. But, since I attended the meeting, I got to come home early."
Morty looked over to Rick and saw that Rich looked oddly surprised by his dad's answer.
Why would Rick be surprised? Morty asked himself. That was a pretty normal workday, in Morty's opinion.
"W-w-what's w-wrong, er, g-grandpa Rick?" Morty asked, unsure of how to refer to his grandfather. The table, instead of focusing on his nearly unintelligible sentence caused by his stutter, looked to his stunned grandfather.
Rick cleared his throat and shook his head. "Ah, uh, n-nothing."
Morty narrowed his eyes as he stared at Rick. It didn't look like nothing, but Morty shook it off, turning back to his meal.
Dinner passed by like normal, and Morty stayed seated (what else could he do?) when everyone got up to put their dishes away. Beth picked Morty's up for him, and Morty stayed at the table, resting his head on his hand as he gave a sigh. It honestly sucked being the only person in a five-mile radius that couldn't walk by themselves, not counting old people.
When Summer emerged from the kitchen, Morty eyed her, about to engage in their routine, when Rick came out of the kitchen and sat down in his chair that he'd sat in during dinner. Morty glanced at him curiously.
"H-hey, M—OURGH—ty, wanna—wanna come out to the garage with me?" Rick said, pointing backward to signify the garage.
Morty widened his eyes slightly, as did Summer, but she shrugged and leaned against the wall to hear Morty's answer.
"Uh, m-me?" Morty asked, making sure Rick wasn't messing with him. Morty didn't know him very well, but hardly anybody ever asked him if he wanted to do anything. Hell, barely his family asked him anything unless it was to ask if he was okay.
Maybe that's what Rick's trying to do , Morty thought to himself.
Rick rolled his eyes. "No, Mortimer Mouse from fucking Mickey Mouse. Yes, you. Now d-do you want to or not?"
"I—a-aw jeez, uh, o-okay," Morty said. He looked to Summer, who gave a shrug, and left the room, probably to watch some Tv.
Rick nodded. "A-alright," and began to get up, moving towards the garage. Morty furrowed his eyebrows.
Rick suddenly stopped in his tracks, doubling back. "I uh... g-guess I have to h-help you," Rick said. His unibrow was curved down the middle, and Rick looked almost peeved by the notion that he had to help his grandson out.
"U-u-uh, y-yeah..." Morty said tentatively. Rick sighed and moved to get behind Morty's chair. He pushed him towards the garage harsher and faster than anyone else did it. Not that Morty particularly minded—in fact, he'd always found it a little irritating whenever he was being wheeled and the person walking him treated him like a porcelain doll. He had a muscle condition, not fucking osteoporosis.
Rick opened the door leading into the garage for Morty and led him in, stopping once Morty was in the center of the room.
Morty's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the garage. It looked like it was right out of a sci-fi movie—beakers and Erlenmeyer flasks filled with colorful substances littered the counters, as well as randomly scattered tools, and even a few nefarious looking weapons were laid out on the surface. Even though it'd been a while—probably around half a year—since Morty'd been in the garage, it looked entirely different from the way it had before.
Rick noticed Morty's wonder and grinned, placing a hand on Morty's shoulder.
"Like—URP—t-the improvements I made, M-Morty?" Rick gestured to the garage. "I-I-I fixed it up a bit, changed it from your dad's lame garage. Did he e-even use it?"
Morty chuckled nervously. "O-o-only like o-once every f-five months."
Rick snickered, shaking his head. He went over to the counter to inspect a random gadget.
Morty craned his neck to see what he was looking at. From Morty's limited view of it, it looked like a lit-up snow globe.
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Rick turned around and walked towards his grandson to show Morty the object. "This, Morty, is a beacon compound. I-i-it helps you find y-your way out of—out of a room with seemingly no way out of it by using light."
Morty observed the spherical object. He looked up to face his grandpa. "D-did you build it? Y-yourself?"
"Y—HUGH—up, sure did, Morty. I-it's not done yet, though, I h-haven't perfected the formula yet. It just makes it s-so that you get trapped , which it obviously shouldn't be doing," Rick shrugged. He set it down on top of a filing cabinet. Rick leaned against the counter, inspecting Morty.
Morty fidgeted, not necessarily liking the unfamiliar attention.
"S-so, grandpa Rick—" Morty said.
"J-j-just call me Rick, Morty," said Rick. He looked vaguely annoyed now. "Gr-grandpa makes me feel old, like I have saggy balls or something."
Morty startled at the crudeness that escaped Rick. Sure, while Rick had said 'fuck' earlier, Morty wasn't used to adults (especially older people) referring to their genitals.
"...Right... Uh, R-Rick, then, uh... wh-why'd you ask me t-to come here?" Morty asked.
Rick shrugged. "I dunno, felt like it." Rick grinned—actually, it looked like more of a snarl to Morty, but his lips were curving upwards. "S-see, Morty, first thing you've gotta learn about me is when I f-feel like doing something, I do it."
"Uh, o-okay, Rick," Morty said. He looked at the man inquisitively.
Rick stared at him in return, almost as if he was looking into Morty's soul. "Huh," The blue-haired man said to himself after a moment.
"Wh-what is it?" Morty pried.
Rick loured. "Y-y'know, you ask a lot of questions."
Morty huffed an anxious laugh and Rick clucked his tongue. "I was j-j-just thinking—can you not propel yourself while you're in your chair?" Rick pondered.
Morty shrugged. "I-I-I mean—n-not—not really? I can on some days, i-if I'm up for it, but n-normally, no..."
"Then w-why don't you h—AUGH—ave an electric wheelchair?" Rick crossed his arms.
"...I-it costs too much, a-a-and I b-barely have t-to use this one."
Rick narrowed his eyes and reached into his coat for something. Morty eyed his motions and watched as he pulled out a hip-flask. Rick drank from it and wiped his face off with his sleeve. "Well that's—URP—gon-gonna change reaaal soon, M-Morty."
Confused, Morty said, "W-why's that?"
Rick smiled that snarl-like smile again. "Because, tomorrow, Morty, y-y-you're gonna travel the multiverse with me."
Morty looked at Rick with shock in his eyes. Me? Morty thought, Morty Smith? Traveling the universe—no, multiverse?
"I-I-I am?"
Rick nodded and unexpectedly lunged towards Morty. The boy flinched, but Rick only wrapped a long arm around Morty's shoulders. "Y-y-you're gonna, you're gonna be my sidekick, M—OURGH—ty. It'll be just us, Morty, Ri-Rick and Morty!" Rick raved to Morty, raising his other arm that wasn't wrapped around Morty to wave it around. "Th-think about it, Morty! Just you and me, us flying around in the cold and uncaring abyss of space! And there could b-be a Tv show, Morty! With a h-hundred—hundred episodes!"
"A-aw jeez, Rick, a-are you sure that I s-should c-come with you tomorrow?" Morty asked. He was wringing his hands nervously. He liked the prospect of actually doing something other than sitting cooped up in his room all day, doing nothing all day but sleeping, so he was almost scared that Rick would say that he was joking.
However, Rick looked at Morty as if he'd grown another head. "W-who else would join m-me, Morty? Summer? Your mom? Sure as hell not your dumbass of a dad!"
"I-I...s-so you r-really mean that I c-can come on an a-adventure with you?" Morty asked. He was almost embarrassed to admit that his voice was shaking.
Rick stood up, unhooking his arm from Morty's shoulders. "M-Morty, am I going to have to repeat this a hundred times? You're going to come with me on an adventure all a-across the galaxy whether you like it or not."
Morty smiled up at Rick. "O-okay," Morty said with a smile that made his eyes crinkle. Morty could do that.
Rick and Morty, Morty thought to himself. It had a nice ring to it.