Something, or someone, was chasing him, but he couldn't see what.
Mortimer tried to look over his shoulder, but all he saw was darkness as he ran.
The tunnel seemed endless and he was getting tired, but he kept running, because he knew if he hesitated for a second, this thing would catch him. So he ran, and kept running, running forever-
-Suddenly he tripped and fell, pitching forward, and darkness swallowed him whole:
GASP! Mortimer sat up with a start. It took a second to realize where he was. Oh right-he was here in this strange room, where everything felt bizarrely nice and comforting.
He was still holding the stuffed bear that Summer had given to him.
Suddenly he couldn't sit still. He slipped out of bed, and out of the room, then down the hall towards Summer's. He peeked inside, and saw her sleeping; dare he wake her? He tiptoed carefully and slowly over to her bed and stood there, not sure how to proceed.
"ACK!" Summer suddenly woke without him even having to do anything. Somehow she'd known someone was staring at her, and there was Mortimer, staring down at her expectantly. "Wh-what is it?" Summer sat up at once. "D-did something happen?" Summer asked breathlessly.
"S-sorry…" Mortimer hung his head sheepishly. "I...I can't sleep," he admitted bashfully, "I...I've never slept in a bed like that...before." Actually, he'd never slept in a regular bed before at all, but he didn't want her to know that.
Summer looked pained, but sympathetic. She didn't know what to say, only wordlessly lifted the bedsheet covers, inviting him in. She had never let Morty sleep in her bed before, and she was embarrassed by the prospect, but if it helped Mortimer to get to sleep, she couldn't help but give it a try.
Mortimer's face was beet red, but he climbed in immediately. She gave him a second pillow, and she turned over to face the other side. "Th-thanks…." Mortimer sighed, and soon drifted off to sleep.
However, sleep for Summer took a little longer to arrive.
Rick woke with a start. He must have dozed off because it was far too quiet and the garage was dark. His head was killing him. Somehow he managed to stumble his way down the hall and then he somehow managed to drag himself up the stairs. He halted with confusion when he noticed the nightlight in Morty's room was on. The stars were dancing on the ceiling. For a moment, Rick found himself transfixed, silently mesmerized by the dancing lights, and then remembered where he was and what he was doing. Get ahold of yourself, you idiot.
He noticed something else: the sound of snoring. Summer didn't snore.
The door to Summer's room was slightly ajar, and Rick quietly peeked inside, only to halt again with surprise at the sight before him: there was Mortimer, dressed in new clean clothes, looking a lot less pitiful than he had been, with his arm draped over the bedside, snoring away, as Summer was stretched out beside him; the bedsheets were tangled between them, but it looked as natural as could be.
The sight stirred something in him that had long been dormant. Whatever it was Rick couldn't place his finger on it. All he knew was that it made him feel something, and to feel something was something Rick wasn't used to at all.
Damn kids and their damn sleeping arrangements.
He quickly scurried past and collapsed on his old army cot, relieved to finally be in a bed by himself, even if it wasn't really his own.
The next morning, when Rick came down to breakfast, Summer could already tell he was in a foul mood. He didn't say a word, and without asking, he had helped himself to the last of Summer's eggs, making her grateful she'd encouraged Mortimer to eat his before Rick even arrived.
Thankfully, Mortimer had already finished his eggs. She'd never seen anyone eat eggs so fast. He kept smiling at her shyly from his place at the table, as she sat across from him and finished up hers.
"Get ready for school, Su-Summer." It was all he said to her before attempting to disappear into the garage with his morning beer.
"But I'm NEEDED here!" Summer argued from the doorway. She wasn't about to leave Mortimer alone with Rick in such a bad mood if he could help it.
She was adamant, but Rick was insistent.
"Don't give me a reason to parent you, Summer."
It was all Rick said in response. However, it was a fair enough warning, and Summer knew better than to argue when Rick used reasonable logic to win an argument.
When she returned, Mortimer was looking right at her with doleful eyes.
"I'm gonna be gone for a while," she explained, feeling horrible for leaving him. "I gotta go to school...I'll be back around 3:30 though," she added hopefully. "Just...try to stay out of Rick's hair until then, OK? You can use my TV and laptop and-" She stopped when she saw Mortimer looking back at her, and his eyes were wide and terrified. He looked almost close to tears. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she said in a choked, forced whisper, before bending down to wrap him in a big bear hug, the kind that she never would have given Morty before "IT" happened in a million years. She ran upstairs, grabbed her bag and left before he could protest, trying to ward off the lump in her throat. So THIS is what it feels like when you leave your kid at a childcare place with complete strangers and he doesn't want to go….She was so glad she'd decided to never have any kids. She couldn't bear the heartache of parting with them either.
It was sometime around 9am that the telephone rang.
Rick rarely answered the phone, but he knew that if Social Services called and he missed it, he would be in big trouble. He honestly didn't care what Social Services thought, but if there was any chance they could take Summer away, he wasn't going to let them, so he knew better than to ignore them and answered the phone.
Thankfully Mortimer had made himself scarce; who knew what he was doing, but Rick wasn't about to go and investigate.
"Who's this?" he barked into the phone.
An awkward pause greeted him in return, followed by a female voice he wasn't sure he recognized. "Hello? Is this Mr. Smith?" It was a female voice at least, and a pretty one, but she didn't sound happy. (He was used to that.)
"Rick." Rick leaned against the counter, feeling a migraine coming on. "Rick Sanchez. Who is this?" he demanded gruffly, already dreading the answer.
"Mr. Sanchez? This is Ms. Hernandez, Summer's guidance counselor-"
Dammit to fucking hell. Rick quietly swore unintelligible words under his breath, though he wouldn't have cared less if she'd heard them. "Alright lemme hear it…" Rick huffed with exasperation as he leaned against the counter for support, "what'd she do now?"
He already knew he would regret asking, and he was right.
Ms. Hernandez's voice was deliberately cautious and heavily calculated. "I'm actually a bit concerned about Summer's performance these past few weeks. She...Her grades have been slipping and she's been absent more times than not. We don't have any doctor's notes explaining these absences. If you could please meet with me today and-"
"Seriously?" Rick gritted his teeth to keep from raising his voice, but he couldn't help it, he was furious. "This is about her stinking GRADES? Look, lady, I know you've got a thing for me, but see, I'm a really BUSY guy, okay? I-in case you didn't know, I'm a SCIENTIST. I-I-I don't have time for all this, all this bureaucratic nonsense! I-I really don't know what to say to you people about any of this-except-Summer's just fucking FINE! OK? She-she's just been a little SICK, that's ALL, and -"
"Mr. Sanchez, Sir-"
"RICK!"
"Rick, Sir, if you don't come to the school and meet with me, we will have to report this case to Social Services." There was a long and heavily awkward pause before she added gently, "I really don't want to have to do that."
Rick bit back the urge to yell something regrettable. The last place he wanted to be was her office, but he knew he also really didn't have a choice. "FINE," he snapped back, "I'LL BE THERE." He slammed the phone down so hard it bounced off the cradle and fell to the floor. He didn't care. He stormed up the stairs to Morty's room, ready to get this matter over with.
Mortimer wasn't there. To his surprise, the boy was sitting on Summer's bed, looking through her magazines.
"Hey kid." Rick grunted from the doorway and Mortimer glanced up, startled, as though he'd forgotten he was there. "I, I gotta do a thing, OK? You, you'll be here by yourself for a bit...so….just stay right there and don't touch anything. I'll be back in half an hour, TOPS."
The boy looked terrified for some reason, but he didn't say a word. He just nodded silently, so Rick left him alone without further instruction. He wasn't particularly worried; this Morty didn't seem like a troublemaker. He was too afraid to cause any real harm.
Rick portaled his way immediately over to the school. He arrived a block away so nobody would see him, and entered the school proper, ignoring the stares from several kids in the hallway who had apparently never seen a mad scientist before.
He went straight to the door that was marked "MAIN OFFICE" and pushed his way in. He walked straight past the waiting kids to Ms. Hernandez's office. She was sitting with a student, who looked up with surprise as Rick barged in, but he didn't care.
"Um, SIR-"
"You wanted to see me, right?" Rick walked straight to her desk. "Well here I am, so make this quick!"
"Sir…" Ms. Hernandez's lips were tightly wound as she blinked up at him. "Please, would you wait outside for a moment? I'm with a student sir."
"And enough of this 'SIR' crap!" Rick wrung his hands in complete exasperation. "I'm not a 'Sir'! My name is 'RICK', okay? How hard is that for you people to remember!?"
"Jimmy?" Ms. Hernandez was ignoring Rick, instead of addressing her alarmed student. "Would you please wait for a moment in the hallway for me? I will let you know when we're….done." She returned a saccharine-sweet smile in Rick's direction as the student left quickly without protest and without a word. "Mr. Sanchez," Ms. Hernandez forced through pursed lips, leaning forward in a fiercely hushed whisper, "you cannot, and I say cannot, barge in here like that without my permission!"
Rick blinked at her for a moment, completely taken aback, before he howled with laughter. " 'Permission'? You gotta be kidding me! I-I'm nearly 80 years old-I- I was alive before you were even born." He collapsed into the chair, still chuckling in spite of himself. "You really missed your calling you know," he chided her, "you should have done some good stand-up comedy-because this stuff is pure gold!"
"This is not about me," Ms. Hernandez replied, her voice stern and her face even more grim-looking in spite of his laughter. "Your granddaughter is quickly slipping through the cracks. I am trying to save her-"
" 'Save her'?" Rick echoed in disbelief. "Boy, you people really think highly of yourselves, huh?"
"Mr. Sanchez-"
"I mean what are you, a Marvel comic book character? No, you-you're a freaking guidance counselor in a public high school for crying out loud-"
"Mr. Sanchez-" Her patience was wearing thin.
"My name is RICK." Rick spat the word so sharply that the guidance counselor nearly fell out of her chair. "R-I-C-K. RICK."
"RICK," Ms. Hernandez said, "Your granddaughter is in serious, serious trouble. She's been getting into fights with other kids. She's about to be put on academic probation. She's not going to graduate from high school if she continues like this. And if she continues like this," the counselor added very slowly, as though he were hard of hearing, "she will be taken away from you. SO-either you give me something to work with-or we have got a little problem on our hands."
Rick gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists hich he placed carefully on his lap, trying very hard not to fidget. He tried to sit still but the chair was too small. Suddenly he realized this must be what getting sent to the principal's office felt like. He noticed the clock on the far wall; it was almost 10:00am. He'd told the kid thirty minutes. This was going to have to take a little longer.
Mortimer knew he was probably taking his life into his own hands by leaving the safety and security of Summer's bedroom. Yet the hallway seemed far too inviting to ignore, and the magazine was far too confusing for him to enjoy, so he left it on the bed and wandered down the hall.
The house was quiet-so quiet he could hear the ticking of a clock. He wondered when Rick was going to get back, and if Summer would return before him. He hoped that Summer would be first; he didn't want to get caught.
Mortimer gazed at the photos that lined the stairwell. None of them were people he recognized, except the one who looked exactly like him. He stopped and stared at all the pictures of this dimension's Morty. He'd known that other Mortys existed, but he'd never gotten a chance to meet them. (His Rick had never approved of his interacting with others.) While he had spent the majority of his years in isolation, this Morty looked like he'd been having the time of his life-being outdoors in the bright sunshine, eating brightly colored foods, riding in strange and exciting vehicles. He didn't recognize the two older people, but the woman reminded him a lot of Summer. He stopped and stared at her for quite some time. She looked happy to be in the arms of the older man. He looked handsome, and how Mortimer wished he'd look when he grew up. (He'd always secretly feared he'd look like Rick.)
Mortimer noticed there weren't any pictures of him and Summer except for one, of the entire family. All of them were smiling. It made Mortimer smile to see them looking so happy. He wondered what had happened to them all, but he knew far better than to ask anyone the truth.
He crept slowly and steadily through the den and into the kitchen. The kitchen was bright and clean like the bathroom, only it was also full of strange and wonderful smells. Mortimer stood in front of the fridge, which made a soft and inviting hum….dare he open it and peek inside? He'd seen Summer take the apple from there earlier; he could use another apple….He didn't want to steal, but he was starving. It would be nice to get something that wasn't bread and water or rotting after being in a dumpster for so long.
With a deep breath of excitement, Mortimer opened the door and gasped with exaltation: the fridge was full of brightly colored things, and all things that could be consumed by him. He wasn't sure where to start.
The first thing that caught his eye was the can of soda on the middle shelf-or what he thought was a can of soda on the middle shelf. It was one of many. He'd seen how Summer opened it, but it still took some doing for Mortimer as he wasn't used to using his thumbs. He popped it open, and it fizzed out so suddenly that it sprayed all over his face. Mortimer gasped in surprise and giggled out loud in spite of himself. He'd never seen anything do that before. He watched it fizz and bubble and overflow over the side for a moment, completely mesmerized by the sight, completely forgetting that he wasn't even supposed to be there. Then he took his first sip.
And immediately he spat it right back out. The drink was far too bitter, and far more bitter than he'd remembered; however, he was thirsty, and if Summer enjoyed these drinks, he supposed that he could too. He continued to chug the drink, all the while he wondered if perhaps this Morty had enjoyed them also.
The drink gave his nose a funny feeling like he wanted to sneeze. He didn't sneeze, but his stomach began to protest angrily about halfway through, as the drink was beginning to make his head feel a little funny also. He hadn't expected the drink to have a sedative effect; perhaps this was why Summer had given it to him at bedtime?
He kept drinking until the can was empty. Satisfied, he turned to toss the empty can in the trash but found suddenly that he couldn't see straight. The room was blurry, and he was tilting, suddenly feeling as though he could fall. Mortimer gripped the side of the island countertop before he started pitching forward. His stomach began to rumble and then was in full-on protest. Mortimer knew what was coming next-and he ran for the trash can, barely making it before the beer came back up his throat; some of it wound up on the floor, but by that time, he didn't even care.
Mortimer sank down to the bottom of the tiles kitchen floor. The bright lights were dancing like moonbeams in his eyes. He giggled at the sight of them, how strange they were, and how bizarre all of this was. This strange feeling that had taken hold of him, that he'd never felt before. He almost kind of liked it, if he hadn't thrown up on top of it; he hated being dizzy and nauseous, and he was starting to get a bit of a headache. He almost felt like he could pass out. He remained on the floor, knowing that if he moved, he might throw up again. He felt his eyelids beginning to close, and he was far too tired to stop them.
By the time Rick got back, he was in an even worse mood than before. The guidance counselor had insisted that he set a schedule for Summer and keep her to it. "I'm not a fucking disciplinarian!" he'd hollered at her, only for Ms. Hernandez to remain completely calm, even as he screamed right in her face. "I-I'm not her fucking drill sargeant! I-I didn't even ASK for this-"
"Let me ask you something, Rick." Ms. Hernandez shuffled papers awkwardly around on her desk. "Are you at all open to the idea of family therapy?"
"Let me ask you something," Rick shot back dryly, "do I LOOK like I'm open to family fucking therapy?"
"Well if you ever change your mind…" Ms. Hernandez was handing over a card towards him, and while begrudgingly, Rick swiped it from her and took a look.
The picture was some Asian-looking lady with large glasses and short-cropped black hair. The name said Dr. Wong, MFT.
"Whatever." Rick stuffed the card in his pocket. "Look-I may not be your typical kind of guardian," he declared stiffly as he stood to leave, "but I AM Summer's guardian, and I'll be damned if she's dropped by the fucking wayside and left to give up on her dreams-okay? Kids like Summer, they, they're different-they-they have dreams, okay, and goals, you know? Look, in my experience, teachers don't like kids with goals, and dreams because, I don't know, I guess they want to be the ones to choose their goals and dreams for them….which isn't teaching at all! Parents are even worse when it comes to that shit, but-but-but I'm NOT like that-okay? And, and I won't let them stop her from making her own way, got it!? I, I have no qualms about suing this whole fucking school if that's what it takes to get her teachers to listen and respect her." Rick huffed for a moment before leaning against the doorframe, his chest heaving, exhausted by his tirade. He was getting way too old for this.
The silence made him open his eyes to find Ms. Hernandez staring back at him in speechless amazement. He noticed there were tears in her eyes, but for the first time since their meeting, she didn't look angry. She looked impressed. "Thank you," she said in a quiet, almost wet, voice. "You can go now."
Their eyes met for a moment, and Rick shook himself free of whatever that was. He slipped back out the door without another word, knowing he had made his peace with the matter. As long as he had anything to say about it, Summer would be fine .