I only have one g-goddamn shot to get this to work or we're fucked. Rick thought to himself. It was 3am, the hypothetical "witching hour" as one may call it. Rick had told Morty he was going to bed, that wasn't the case. There was more to do than sleep, time was of the essence if they were getting the fuck out of here anytime soon. "C-Come back to bi-bite me in the ass wh-why don't you, bitch."
The portal gun's power supply was shot, there was no hope to find that same kind of fuel again. The urge to punch something rose considerably for Rick as he tried to figure out what the fuck to do. Between his own thoughts and the formulation of a plan to make more fuel, there was also the dreaded what if questions. He knew that this was in a way his fault but instead of the "what if we blow up?" or "what if we can't get the portal gun to work?" kind of questions, they were the ones of things he couldn't change. At least, he couldn't change them now with the lack of resources.
What if we wouldn't have gotten into that fight? The thought made him reach for his flask. Rick started to unscrew the lid while he looked down at the damn gun. "I-I-It wouldn't have m-m-mattered," He muttered to himself. "The sa-same thing would h-h-have happened, maybe not then b-but no doubt it w-would have happened." He took a large swig while looking over at Morty. In his mind he felt guilty, maybe not guilty enough to make a big shit about it, but guilty enough to try harder. If we don't get home in one fucking piece, just as we left, Beth is gonna kill me.
The thought was a partial driving force to work harder, no matter how drunk he really was. The rest of the driving force was Morty. He'd suffered enough, there was no reason for this kid to be stranded with him in Mortyburg or anywhere on the citadel whether it was still intact or not. It's almost the same motivation as that fucking asshole who murdered his Diane and Beth. He started to work harder and drink more until his flask was empty.
The night had flown by, it was 9am and God only knows how long it was to get anywhere with the portal gun. It didn't really matter too much, as Rick passed out drunk at the desk around 8:30am give or take. Morty was beginning to wake up to the sound of Rick's drunken snoring. When he got up, he noticed the old man was working on the portal gun and there were several empty bottles of liquor on the floor. "I-I-I expect nothing le-less from you." He mumbled quietly to himself. Taking the blanket from the bed, he put it around Rick's sleeping body. He was on a mission to get some breakfast before Rick woke back up. Maybe even help find a solution to the portal gun problem?
After Chapter AN: I didn't have anything to say prior to the chapter beginning. It was shorter to say the least. It was only 512 words without the Author's Note. The next chapter is currently being written as is the 8th chapter. Be prepared for the next chapter to be longer than this one. Believe me when I say it's way longer. Hope you all enjoyed. RR much appreciated!