The next day at breakfast, Mortimer couldn't eat his eggs.
If Summer had known at all what had happened, she made no mention of it. Thankfully, Rick didn't come down for breakfast at all.
Mortimer knew better than to get in Rick's way. He hid out in Morty's bedroom until Summer returned home from school. Thankfully, nobody bothered him, so he slept for most of the day. He was grateful for the silence and the sanctuary of the bedsheets as much as he was for not being punished.
That day at school, Summer received a text from Nancy: Must talk! Meet me before the school bus comes at 3:00 pm, right by your locker. Summer had to bite her lip to keep from groaning out loud in math class; the very last thing she wanted was to endure yet another meeting with Nancy Wong. That girl thought she knew everything about her, just like she thought she knew everything about everyone that had ever lived-but, ironically, she didn't even know that the multiverse existed. (Summer had to grin a little to herself at this thought because that meant she knew more than everyone else at her school.) She was used to feeling insignificant, but this made her feel special, somehow. It was a secret that only she and none of her peers knew.
That afternoon, Summer found Nancy already waiting at her locker. "What is it Nancy?" Summer was anxious to get home and check on Mortimer. "I've got a lot to do today-"
"You failed the science project," Nancy said thickly, keeping a cool distance from Summer and holding her books in front of her like a shield, as though she needed protection. "I got an A+. That's because I did the project for BOTH of us."
Summer was about to thank her, but then she stood back and blinked with shock: was Nancy angry at her? She could kind of understand why, she supposed, because of how much grades had always mattered to Nancy. With everything going on, she'd completely forgotten about the science project. In light of everything, none of that had really seemed to matter.
"What did you wind up making?" Summer asked, out of genuine curiosity. She really didn't care about getting an F, as she was already failing science (and school in general) as it was.
"Why should I tell you?" Nancy snapped. She suddenly had way more anger in her voice than Summer had expected, or had thought Nancy capable of ever being able to express for that matter. "You never cared about this project to begin with."
Summer's face blushed. "That's not true-"
"You also made me nearly sprain my ankle-"
"A little dramatic, Nancy." Summer rolled her eyes. "You fell and scraped your knee."
"I could have had to go to the hospital, Summer."
Once again Summer just rolled her eyes. "But you didn't," she pointed out, trying not to sound too smug and risk getting Nancy even angrier.
"You've really got to be nicer to people, Summer."
Summer paused and stared, taken aback. Perhaps she was surprised (and secretly a little impressed) by Nancy's sudden candidness. Or, perhaps what maybe what surprised her more, was the sudden presence of tears that had grown all too visibly in Nancy's eyes.
"I tried very hard to be your friend," Nancy spoke in a trembling voice, all the while looking stoically as possible down at the floor. "But now I understand why your grandfather doesn't think you have any."
Summer hated to admit how much that sentence hurt, and suddenly she regretted all of it. "-Nancy-"
"I gotta go." Nancy bowed her head and rushed past, so quickly that Summer had no chance to stop her.
Summer would have taken the bus then, but she'd missed it because of Nancy, so instead, she walked home alone.
When Summer got home, the first thing she did was check in on Mortimer.
She was surprised to find him still in bed. He was just waking up when she came in, and he was all bloodshot and bleary-eyed.
"Heyyy." Summer sat on the bed beside him. "How're you feeling?"
Mortimer was hugging his knees to his chest. He was staring down at the bedspread, as though he couldn't bring himself to look at her. "I-I thought it was s-s-soda," he mumbled. He'd long since realized in his sober moments that what he'd actually drank was one of Rick's unopened can of beer.
"You drank Rick's beer," Summer pointed out the obvious.
"Yeah…" Mortimer blushed, feeling foolish. "P-pretty stupid, huh?"
"Yeah," Summer nodded glumly, "I'd say so."
Mortimer focused on the bedsheet for a moment, looking contemplative. "You know…" He turned to look at Summer. "...it's not as good as soda," he remarked with firm conviction, and Summer couldn't help but laugh.
"I know," she agreed, "I don't know honestly how he drinks the stuff."
"S-Summer?" Mortimer was glancing at her shyly then.
"...Yeah?" Summer hesitated; she didn't like the sound of this opening question.
"W-why hasn't Rick p-punished me, you know, for drinking his beer, and, and stuff?" Mortimer suddenly looked around wildly as though he half expected someone to jump out from behind the curtains and grab him. "W-why did he just put me to bed, like-like I'd done nothing wrong?"
"Because." Summer felt sad then because she knew anything that his Rick would have done in his world would have been so much worse. "He's not the same kind of Rick…" She almost couldn't finish the sentence. "...as your Rick," she finished haltingly, unable to look at him.
"H-how?"
The question caught Summer off guard. "How what?" She was amazed at how he suddenly seemed five years old.
"How is your Rick…." Mortimer blushed. "D-different?"
"I dunno," Summer shrugged. "He...just is." She wasn't going to tell him about her mother's diary. She wasn't going to tell him how part of her still feared that there was still a monster inside of Rick just waiting for the right time to come out.
"Do…" Mortimer swallowed hard, but he had to know. "...Do you trust Rick?" he asked, hopefully.
Summer blinked with surprise at the pointedness and the timing of the question. "...I guess…," she answered uneasily. What else was she supposed to say? Rick had saved her from the foster care system. He'd also saved her life more than one time since then. How could she not trust him?
"Mortimer…" Summer faced the painfully shy version of her brother then. He was so much like Morty, and yet so very different. The Morty she knew had been wild and loud, and full of vigor. He had been eager to live his life to the fullest, every moment of every day. She wished this Morty knew the joy of that kind of existence. "Did your Rick…" She hesitated, knowing she had to tread very carefully. "...Did he…" She looked away as she finished the sentence. "...hurt...you?"
Mortimer didn't have to answer. He tucked his knees to his chest, burying his face into them. He wasn't making any noise, but his shoulders heaved with sobs that seemed to hold all the grief in the world upon them.
Watching him, Summer's heart ached. She knew she shouldn't have asked. She'd already known the answer. Why didn't she think before she spoke? She'd done the same thing with Nancy, and now Nancy hated her guts. She couldn't say she blamed her.
She was about to ask for permission to move near, but instead of asking for permission, or saying anything, Summer just put her arms around him. She was relieved when Mortimer didn't resist. Instead, he just lay his head against her, and she let him without complaint.
They sat like that for some time, not saying anything, just being together.
And suddenly Summer knew what she had to do. She suddenly knew how Mortimer could find a way to trust Rick. If Rick would do this, Summer would know for certain that he was a gentler, kinder Rick than the one who had abandoned and hurt her mother so many years ago.
She just had to gather the courage to ask him. And she would ask him tonight.
Mortimer eventually fell asleep with his head still on Summer's chest. He hardly responded when she helped him lay down on the bed properly, and tucked him in. He was exhausted, poor thing. She left as soon as she heard him snoring.
The garage light was on. Rick was at his workstation. Summer couldn't see what he was working on, but it looked like he was staring at blueprints. "Rick?" she knocked softly so as not to startle him (then she realized how silly that was; Rick was not the type to get easily startled).
"K-kinda busy here." He stood rigid over the desktop.
Summer bit her lip nervously. She knew she couldn't hesitate. "Rick I need to ask you something…" She pushed herself across the room. "What's this?" she asked, staring down at the blueprints.
"N-nothing that concURPs you." The stench seeping off of Rick was palpable. She could tell he probably was nursing an especially bad hangover by the way he was wincing at the overhead lights.
"You want a Tylenol or something?" Summer asked.
Rick glanced over at Summer then, his eyes narrowing instantly with sound suspicion. "The fuck do you want Summer?" he snapped. "Since, since when do you go around asking me if I want a Tylenol?"
"You looked like you might be in pain…." Summer stopped herself, realizing that she'd probably crossed a line.
However, for some reason, Rick didn't seem like he was in the mood to fight this time. "Yeah, sure...what the hell." He shrugged indifferently, but he winced again visibly. "Get me the damn Tylenol….get a hundred while you're at it." Resigned to the interruption of his current task at hand, Rick let himself sink into the chair with exhaustion.
Summer ran upstairs to the bathroom, grabbed two Tylenol, and ran back downstairs as fast as her legs could carry her. Rick was still sitting in the chair, leaning back, with his eyes clothed. At first, she was afraid he'd fallen asleep, but thankfully he wasn't snoring. "Here you go," she said, and his eyes popped open, looking startled to see her there.
He swiped the pills and was about to down them with a swig of beer, but then Summer produced a glass half full of lukewarm water, which he begrudgingly accepted. All the while, he was regarding her with carefully guarded suspicion. Since when had she become his Mother Hen?
"So c'mon, kid," Rick urged. "Out with it. What's this all about? I really have to get back to-"
"Morty," Summer blurted, and Rick froze.
"Yeah? What about him? Kid got his hands on a little booze. It's not the end of the world-"
"...He really got hurt bad, Rick." Summer suddenly found it difficult to speak. She couldn't look at him, because she knew if she did, she might start crying. "I...I was giving him a bath and...I saw-" She shuddered. "He's got scars, Rick-really, really bad ones-all over his back. I-I think Rick might have used a-a whip on him or-or something…" Summer shivered at the thought.
She was about to confess her idea when Rick whirled about. His eyes were on fire.
"AND?" Rick barked. "What do you expect ME to do about it? You-you really got us into a bind here, Summer, by even BRINGING him here! Do-do you know how much TROUBLE this could get us into? More accurately, ME?" Rick slammed his fist down on the table so hard Summer jumped. "I-I wasn't even supposed to bring YOU there-let alone STEAL a fucking MORTY, SUMMER!"
Summer began to back away, horrified at his sudden shift in behavior. "I-I know-" she stammered.
"But YOU insisted that I PROVE my WORTH to you," Rick hissed, "a USELESS PETTY ENDEAVOR if ever there WAS ONE! So, congratu-fucking-LATIONS, SUMMER-because-HERE we are! You, you're lucky I have ways of, of keeping them from finding us-because-because-otherwise-" Rick seemed to suddenly be unusually out of breath. Before he could finish, he'd collapsed back into the chair again. "Fuck," he spat, his expression full of self-disgust and hatred. "Ricks are such fucking assholes, you know? I-if it was up to me…" His expression grew darker. "...I would just blow us all to smithereens."
Summer gaped at her grandfather, horrified by the notion. "But you're not like those other Ricks!" she exclaimed with sudden conviction. "You-you rescued Morty! You saved BOTH of us-"
"Heh." Rick let out a sharp exhale, a strange sound that might have been either laughter or a retreating sob. "Yeah, I 'saved' you...from myself...because that Rick is me, and I am him, and you probably would have been better off sticking with the foster care system than-"
"That's BULL shit!" Summer cut him off so sharply that Rick could only stare. "ANY place in the entire UNIVERSE is better than THERE." She leaned against the worktable and handed him the unfinished beer. "At least with YOU I can have SOME kind of resemblance of a 'normal' life."
" 'Normal'?" Rick snorted, then howled with laughter. "I don't even remember the meaning of the word." He handed the beer to Summer then, and Summer blinked with surprise-he was offering her some beer? She shrugged then, and accepted the strange gift, taking a long and drawn-out swig. She wiped the remaining residue off her mouth with the back of her hand. It was warm, but surprisingly tasteful. She had never had a beer before in her life.
"Rick…" Summer faced him then. "Remember how you, um...healed the cut on my leg?"
Rick chuckled a little at the memory. "Yeah, you mean when you stole my gun and acted like a total bitchy baby after I had saved your sorry ass from certain death?"
"Yeah," Summer nodded, not caring to argue against the insult this time. "That time." She took a deep breath. "Do you think...you can do the same...for Morty?"
There followed then a long and heavy silence. She could tell Rick was thinking about it, thinking over it carefully, the way all scientists did, only this was the only scientist she knew who could heal ancient wounds and scars with a single touch of his magical finger.
Finally, Rick turned and faced her. He suddenly looked several years older, but there was still a youthful twinkle in his eyes. "Tomorrow," was all he said, but he said it with conviction-and Summer smiled widely in return, exhaling with relief a breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding.
"Thanks, Grandpa." She gave him the least imposing, least intrusive hug she could manage, before scurrying quickly out the door without saying goodnight. She didn't want to give him any chance to protest, because as far as she was concerned, for the first time in his life, a Morty was about to be healed by a Rick.