(A/N):I wanted to show more of the family dynamic and where exactly Jerry stands with some characters before I had him leave, just to give more context to things that might occur later on in the story. Hope you enjoy.

—

Jerry couldn't help the curse that slipped past his lips as he fumbled to grab the glass horse he had gotten Beth last Christmas, silently berating himself for being so clumsy. Luckily, he had managed to catch it and gingerly re-place it back in its original spot on the dresser.

"Yeah, well, you can just go fuck yourself, Ethan!"

Summer's frustrated voice rang through the hallway, soon followed by her stomping feet and ending with a very loud slam from her bedroom door. Jerry frowned at the commotion, briefly glancing at the various clothes he still had to pack in his suitcase, some part of him debating on if he should cancel his plans, before carefully shuffling out into the hall and over to his daughter's room.

She must have heard him, because as soon as he was in front of her door, she bitterly stated, "Go away."

Still, Jerry remained in place, "Summer, what's the matter?" he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

There was a pause on her end, as if she just realized who was actually speaking to her, "I'm fine, dad," she muttered, a noticeable exhaustion in her voice.

"It… it might help to talk about it," Jerry offered, smiling faintly, still keeping his voice gentle. He didn't want to force her to talk if she didn't want to, but it also wasn't a good idea to leave her in such a vulnerable state. It never was healthy to keep your emotions to yourself. Jerry's mind briefly wandered back to the interview, causing his throat to tighten up. The thought of Summer ending up like that… he hated it.

"Just leave me alone."

There was no bite to her words, just utter defeat, and the faintest of cracks that indicated she might start crying if she talked any longer.

He sighed, shifting his gaze off to the side, "Okay, sweetie…" he quietly replied, "If you need to talk at all… just let me know."

"... whatever."

He carefully, slowly, walked back to his bedroom, guilt weighing down on his shoulders. He had to remind himself that he did all he could, that it wasn't right of him to force anything out of her. It should be her choice to talk with him, not his.

—

Jerry placed his last shirt into the bag, eyes briefly skimming over the items to double check if he needed to bring anything else with him. Once satisfied, he zipped it shut and headed down the stairs, pausing outside of Summer's door, staring at it, hesitating for just a moment before gingerly knocking on it.

There was no response.

"Um, I'm planning to make dinner soon… if you want to help…"

Still no response.

"Summer?" he knocked again, a little louder this time, "Are you in there?"

He waited for a beat, finally taking a deep breath and slowly opening her door, being sure to announce his presence as he stepped in. Her lights were off and she was sleeping on her bed, phone having slipped from her grasp and fallen to the floor. Her room was a mess; clothes and papers scattered throughout, the contents of her makeup kit spilled over her vanity and several torn up photos rested on her bed sheets.

Sighing, Jerry began to walk quietly around the room, cleaning up the various items and placing them back in their rightful places, being sure to plug her phone into its charger.

He unfolded the blanket that had been laying across the end of her bed and draped it over her. The action caused her to stir suddenly, a muttered sentence he couldn't quite hear leaving her as she turned her back to him and wrapped herself into the blanket.

Jerry couldn't help but chuckle fondly. Seventeen years old, and still his little girl…

As he left, he made sure to close the door behind him, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. He spied Morty in the process of making himself a sandwich.

"I'm going to start on dinner," Jerry informed him, "Did you want to help?"

"Ah, Rick sort of needs me for something," Morty replied, not even bothering to mask the annoyance in his voice as he took a bite of his sandwich. Whether it was directed at him or Rick, Jerry wasn't sure, "So, we'll probably miss dinner."

"Of course you will," Jerry muttered quietly, moving to look through the fridge for the items he needed.

"Sounds like someone is still pissy about their interview."

Jerry spied Rick entering the kitchen from the corner of his eye, unable to keep the grimace from falling on his face.

"Rick, come on, don't be a jerk," Morty defended.

"Hey, I'm just stating the obvious, Morty," Rick countered.

Their bickering fell into the background as Jerry started making dinner, trying to focus on the task as a means of ignoring Rick's harsh words. Just a little longer, he reminded himself, just a little longer until he'd be driving to his parents house. He's dealt with his family for years, he could wait a few more hours.

"You, uh…" Rick's voice suddenly broke him from his concentration, "You doing okay, pal?"

The question caused Jerry to briefly stall his movements, letting the words sink into his skin. It almost, almost sounded like Rick was… concerned about him. That was just his imagination, he figured. This was Rick, after all, and why would Rick ever care about his "insignificant, pathetic, piece-of-shit son-in law."

"I'm fine, why?" he replied flatly, spreading butter across a slice of bread.

"Just wondering…" there was a brief pause before Rick asking, "You're not planning on doing anything stupid, are you?"

The question earned him a scoff as Jerry placed down the bread and knife, turning towards Rick, "I wouldn't say going to visit my parents is stupid," he snapped, not bothering to mask the bitterness that slipped into his tone.

"That's not—" Rick cut himself short, sighing heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

It was at that moment Jerry realized they were alone in the kitchen. When had Morty left? Why had he left? His sandwich was still sitting on the counter, half eaten.

"Look, you just seemed fed up with me today," Rick tried to explain, as if he was just so bothered by the mere idea that Jerry dared to defend himself.

"I'm fed up with you everyday."

That statement seemed to stir something in the scientist, his eyes briefly searching Jerry's face, mouth opening and closing as if he was debating on saying something, inevitably deciding against it, "Have fun on your trip," he said, the words coming out slow and forced.

They remained still, just staring at each other, an underlying pretense that whoever looked away first accepted defeat. Rick was the first to break away, slowly, almost hesitantly, turning to go into the garage.

Jerry focused back on the grilled cheese he was making, failing to notice as Rick's hand hovered over the doorknob, waiting for him to say something along the lines of, "Make sure Morty doesn't get hurt," or "Don't bring back anything weird this time." Once it was clear Jerry had no intention of saying anything, he sighed quietly and left the room.

—

Rick and Morty were on time for dinner. It was surprising, really. Jerry expected to put their food in the fridge for later, but here they were, sitting at the table with the rest of the family. The only sounds that filled the dining room were the clinks and clatters of drinking glasses and spoons hitting the edge of their soup bowls, along with the faintest noises of Rick working on one of his little inventions.

The silence was overwhelming for Jerry, awkward. He occasionally glanced at Summer, who had her elbow resting on the table, while she leaned her face against the palm of her hand, staring down at her food with mild disinterest and using her free hand to move the spoon around in her bowl. She hadn't eaten anything yet.

"So, how was your interview?" Beth suddenly asked, causing Jerry to quickly shift his focus to her, watching as she took a drink from her wine glass.

Jerry stared blankly at her, just a hint of surprise behind confused eyes that briefly flicked to Rick, who was not even remotely paying attention to what was going on around him. Had he really not told her? Or maybe he did, but Beth still wanted to ask.

"Um," Jerry quietly began, his attention falling to the food on his plate, using his fork to pick at the baby carrots, "It, uh…"

"You didn't go, did you?" her tone was sharp, frustrated.

"I—I did!" he quickly corrected, voice nearly catching in his throat at the suspicious glare on his wife's face, "Um… they said…"

What had that lady said? He couldn't remember.

Rick muttered something under his breath, then suddenly, he said loud enough for the rest of the family to hear, "Shit, I think I fucked up the wiring," as he continued to mess with his machine.

Beth sighed, turning her attention to her father, "Dad, could you please put that away? We're supposed to be eating dinner together."

"Morty's on his phone, Beth," Rick countered.

"Wha—" Morty looked up from his phone that Jerry pretended not to notice he'd been hiding under the table, glaring hard at Rick, "What the hell, Rick?"

"Are you cyberstalking Jessica's Instagram again?" Summer muttered boredly, attention still on her food. It was probably getting cold.

"No!" Morty immediately defended.

Then, too quickly, there was an argument between Beth, Rick and Morty about how dinner time should be the family talking together, or something to the like. Jerry had stopped listening, staring worriedly at Summer.

"Did you want to watch a movie tonight?" he quietly asked, leaning forward just slightly so Summer was the only one that could hear him over the fighting.

Her focus was still on her food, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on her face, "Maybe," she replied, equally as quiet, "Just as long as it's not lame," she was looking up at him, finally, smiling, but it was still so glaringly obvious that she was upset.

Still, progress was progress, and Jerry was glad she hadn't shut him out.

"—how was school?"

Rick had asked the question, though it was in a very bored and sarcastic way that signaled to Jerry he had only asked to show Beth he was forcing himself to be interested in his family's life.

"You doing okay, pal?"

Jerry wasn't sure why that question from earlier pushed itself back into the forefront of his mind, settling over him in an unusual fashion. He was left watching the rest of his family talk about their day, as if he was nothing more than a bystander.

—

"I said no lame movies."

"Oh, come on, you used to love this one," Jerry smiled as he pointed at one of the DVD cases he had laid out on the coffee table.

"Yeah, when I was, like, ten," Summer chuckled, picking up a different movie and glancing at the cover, "Why don't we watch this one?" she held up the DVD so her father could get a better look at it.

As soon as Jerry caught sight of the title, a wide smile spread across his face, "Really?" he asked, "You want to watch that movie?" he couldn't help the excitement in his voice, even as he teasingly asked, "I thought teenagers hated war movies?"

Summer shrugged, looking down at the DVD, "I mean, I heard Tricia say it was good, and Nancy said the cinematographer, or whatever, was great too."

This is for Summer, he reminded himself, "You're sure that's the one you want to watch?"

Her expression was contemplative as she looked over the other movies in front of her. Her lips pressed into a thin line for a moment, "Yeah, why not?" she concluded, "And if it sucks, we can watch something else," she very obviously grabbed another movie, setting it off to the side just in case.

Once the popcorn was made and the movie was in, Jerry shut the lights off and took a seat beside his daughter, placing the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. He hoped he was doing the right thing. That he was showing Summer he cared about her.

"What, you think this s'more makes you special, because someone said "good job" to you when you were ten? That's actually really sad, dad."

It had settled in his mind before he had the chance to stop it, sinking down into his stomach and twisting uncomfortably. She had been right, though… hadn't she? He did want to feel important, to prove to his family he could be competent, instead of a pathetic, jobless loser. Truthfully, more than anything, he wanted to spend time with his kids. They had been so focused on Rick, going on adventure with him, that it left Jerry feeling unneeded. What could he give them that Rick couldn't? What made him special, when compared to the smartest man in the universe (and who had started calling him that, anyway)?

He tried to ignore the feeling, to just enjoy the movie with his daughter, but even as he focused on the screen and listened to Summer comment on various things, that feeling was still there, unmoving; it caused him to be pulled in, then back out as he continued to try distracting himself, over and over, like an endless loop.

It wasn't until he felt Summer gently nudge his knee with hers that he was pushed out permanently, blinking several times as he noticed the movie was nearly over, with that oh, so familiar song he had listened to many times before filling the quiet room, sinking deep into his core and reminding him just how lonely he truly was. Jerry turned towards his daughter, his little girl, and she was smiling softly at him.

"Thanks, dad," she said, the words coming out quiet and genuine.

He managed to smile, despite the ache in his chest, "No problem, sweetie."

—

It was around one-thirty in the morning when he found himself waking from that same dream he had just yesterday, and like yesterday, he went through the motions of heading downstairs. However, unlike yesterday, Rick was staring at him as he entered the dimly lit kitchen.

His arms were crossed and he was leaning back against the counter. If Jerry didn't know any better, he'd have thought Rick was waiting for him.

"What? Didn't feel like waking the whole neighborhood tonight?" Jerry asked sarcastically, moving to open one of the cabinets in search of the animal crackers.

"Today," Rick corrected dryly, the faintest of slurs in his voice that meant he had been drinking more than he probably should have been.

Jerry didn't bother responding, grabbing the snack and turning to leave. He hadn't even managed to take a step forward before Rick was in front of him, trapping him in place. Instinctively, Jerry backed away as much as the counter behind him could allow, throat tight, heart thudding in his ears. He tried to keep his breathing under control, reminding himself over and over again that the person in front of him was Rick, and Rick wouldn't do anything so drastic.

Didn't you think that last time?

His grip on the box in his hands tightened, "W–what do you want?" he managed to force the question out, even if it was just barely a whisper.

"Look," Rick spoke slowly, trying to fend off his slurred speech, "I could–could give two shits about you, really, but for fucks sake, could you, I don't know," he made a gesture with his hand, "Look less depressing?"

Jerry squinted at the insult, unsure of how exactly to respond.

"Seriously, seeing how fucking depressed you are is pissing me off."

The younger man blinked, still unsure of what to say. He opened his mouth, trying to form words, "O…kay…" he slowly muttered, confusion taking hold of his face. What was happening?

Rick eyed the box in his hand, "I'm taking this," he declared, pulling the animal crackers from Jerry's grasp and nearly stumbling out of the kitchen, probably to his bedroom, or many to portal off somewhere.

As soon as the scientist was gone, Jerry found himself taking slow breaths in an attempt to soothe the anxiety that had crawled up his back.

He was fine.

He was fine.

"Fucking hell," he muttered to the empty air around him.

—

"You're sure you'll be okay?" Beth asked, watching as her husband loaded his bags into his car, "I mean, dad could always just portal you there."

Rick made a noise of disagreement as he took a long drink from his flask.

"I need the drive," Jerry replied, carefully rearranging his luggage and slipping in the final bag, ignoring the memoirs of this morning that were trying to push themselves forward, "I'm not sure when I'll be back, but it shouldn't be more than a week," he turned towards his family, managing to pull on a smile.

Morty smiled at him, "Have fun, dad."

"You'll bring back gifts, right?" Summer asked, a distinct tone in her voice that indicated she was only half-joking.

"I'll think about it," Jerry replied, some part of him knowing full well he'd buy at least something for his kids while he was gone.

"Just be careful, alright?" Beth was looking at him with mild concern, as if she knew that nothing bad could happen to her husband, and even if something did, Rick would, no doubt, solve the issue in a matter of seconds.

Jerry gave a faint nod, "Right…"

As he got into the driver's side of his car, he gave one last goodbye to his family, pulling out of the driveway and starting on the very long drive to his parents house.

—

(A/N): Constrictive criticism is always appreciated. If I messed up on any characterization, please let me know how I can improve.