Prologue
The old machine whirred. A mix between a vibration and a hum as it worked, churning the numbers. Testing the samples, rejecting the unviable options and moving on to the next test batch. Despite the age of the equipment, the process was seamless and almost akin to listening to an opera. Click, whir, hum, *bzzt*. Click, whir, hum, *bzzt*. Each option a rejection; a failure. A sigh escaped the room's sole occupant, as the stooped shoulders of an old man in a lab coat straightened. His face illuminated from the computer terminal, the light bathing him in a dull blue. Click, whir, hum. The light glowed red momentarily *bzzzt*. The man raised a hand to his tired looking eyes and rubbed. The lids felt heavy and the dark shadows testimony to the days of work and lack of sleep he had endured.
As the machine clicked another sequence, he took a slightly battered metal flask from the inside of his lab coat and lifted it to his mouth. It was empty.
"F-fucking dammit," he swore and slammed the flask onto the desktop, then pulled the display panel closer towards him. Eyes darting down the list of DNA sequencing, searching for the mistake. It looked clean. He growled somewhere deep in his throat and stabbed his fingers across the keyboard to re-initiate the program. The computer worked for a while, then turned red again. With a roar of rage he swept the equipment to the side and watched it crash onto the floor. Vials smashing and electronics sparking. He stood huffing a moment in the now dark lab.
Rick Sanchez was the smartest guy in the universe. The smartest guy in the multiverse. The things that he had done; that he had accomplished and invented were innumerable in the halls of genius. And terrorist, some would say. He said what he thought and acted the way he wanted to. It was his greatest asset… and his greatest flaw. People either loved or hated him for it. But it didn't matter. He didn't care either way. Or at least that's what he used to tell himself, sometimes still clung to. Because he had changed in the years since returning to the Smith Household. He had allowed himself to soften; to feel. It was this feeling that had resulted in his current predicament. And, not that he would admit it, but it had also made him afraid. In fact, often it was fear that drove his actions, fear of being too close to anyone else. Fear of abandonment, of allowing himself to be vulnerable and of the inevitable end to that openness. Of finding himself where he currently was.
He was Rick Sanchez. For something so simple to now elude him was unthinkable. Infuriating. Idiotic. But it had to be perfect. Had to be. He gripped the sides of his head, his nails clawing slightly at the thinning hair and skin.
The door to the lab swished open. A pool of yellow light casting it's judgemental eye on the scene of the scientist's breakdown. "Dad? Are you…are you ok?" a tentative voice enquired from the doorway. Its owner choosing not to intrude any further.
Rick sighed as his heart rate slowed and bent to start picking up the pieces of his equipment. "I-I-I'm f-f.. everything's ok, Beth. I just hit-hit another snag. I'm fine. You're not sterile…I do…don't want to recalibrate this mess and sterilise the lab. Stay- s-stay behind the-the forcefield," he said without turning to face her. He could sense the hesitation in her presence but let loose a breath of air when the door closed again and the light level returned to the semi darkness he now existed in. He dumped the handful of equipment back onto the desk and set about repairing what he could.
It took an hour to repair and replace everything and ready the experiment to start again. He stayed his hand however as he looked at the samples he had left. Six, six attempts to get this right. Six. Six was a stupid number. He was missing something and he needed more than six attempts to get this right. And it had to be right. Had to be perfect.
He rubbed a shaking hand over the stubble across his face. It had been two days since he had last had a drink. Two days and here he was sober as a judge. Sobriety sucked. Sucked giant fat alien monkey balls. Everything was in sharp relief, which just made his months of failure in this case all the more raw. Like a festering wound he couldn't mend. With that came other pain. As memories of Morty filled his head, he shook it hard to clear it. No, that was pain he couldn't dull until he was done. Pain that this was supposed to fix. Would fix. If he could get it right that was.
Six attempts. It would be weeks before he could try again…months maybe depending on if he could get all of the materials needed. And that only delayed things even more. He ran his hands through his hair, his dry tongue feeling like sand in his mouth and the craving for liquor stronger than ever. There had to be something he was missing. Something elusive. Each time he thought he had it in his grasp…the computer turned red.
This should have been so simple. So simple it hurt. He could have pulled this off in the garage at home for fun! For fun dammit. And yet when it actually mattered, when he wanted it…failure. He had built and made things more complex with worse resources before. The liberation of Bird World from the galactic federation had seen him working with the crudest tools imaginable by his standards and he had still succeeded there.
Frustrated rage battled the black shadow of depression inside, as he habitually fiddled with the vials he had left. How had he become this? This mess of a man who couldn't protect his family and could come up with the plan to fix it but not implement it. It was as if he had lost his mojo, lost the spark when he had lost…
"D-Dammit… Morty…" he whispered.
Six attempts. Carefully he rummaged through the remaining vials. Extra Stabilisers…anything to get the process to stage two. Using the data from each previous failure as a guide, he made alterations. Like an artist adding details to a masterpiece no one would ever see if the thing was a success. His hand closed on the final vial in his collection. Unlike the others, it's stopper was sealed in wax.
Bringing it to eye level, Rick felt a wave of longing, grief and guilt wash over him. He had forgotten he had this sample. And yet…yet.
Eyes wide, manic almost, he began tossing paper aside, looking through the mass of readouts, notes and information until finally he found the data he wanted. The stoppered vial still clutched in his hand. It could be this…it could work. He considered looking at it again. But…it was a gamble of the worst possible sort. The cost of failure was almost unbearable.
Six samples…six attempts. One in six was all he needed. No matter what weirdly dressed, floofy women in pink said…the odds were never in his favour. Not these days. If he played poker he would have folded his hand and walked away days ago. But that wasn't an option. Wishing he wasn't sober he opened the vial with tumbling fingers and added it before he could think better of it.
The computer started up the sequence again as Rick lowered himself onto his stool and waited. Nerves on edge. Frayed…
…click, whirl…hum…bzzzt. Red light.
"No…come on," Rick growled aloud.
Click, whirl…hum…bzzzt. Red light.
"No, no, no," he spat. "Don't - don't f-fucking do this to me."
Click, whirl…hum….
He felt his hopes soar. "Yes…come on baby…come on…"
Bzzt. Red light.
"Motherfucking bastard…come the fuck…what the fuck!"
Click, whirl…hum…bzzzt Red light.
Rick slammed his fists down on the desk. "What the fuck do you want f-from me. What a-am I doing wrong? Why-why are you doing this? I ca-can do this in my fucking sleep!"
Click…whirl…hum…bzzzt…Red light.
Rick felt the anger and frustration drain from him. He dropped his head onto the desk. He had wasted the DNA sample. Kept it with him all these years and wasted it on nothing more than a moment of desperation. Gone all in and lost it all.
Click…whirl….hum…
He looked at his hands in his lap. Old, calloused skin, wrinkled and scared. Long digits that had once held the power to create anything in their grasp. Useless sitting on his trousers, bathed in green light. Pathetic.
Wait…his head snapped up. The computer screen was green….the second process now engaged.
Rick stared at the figures as the computer began to form the information and samples into stage two. It proceeded into stage three in rapid succession.
Rick hit the communicator panel. "Be..Beth…it..it worked," he croaked and felt his eyes prickle as the unmistakable sound of a heartbeat filled the lab.
###
48 hours later, Rick took a swig from the newly refilled flask. He looked down at his creation.
"I'm gunna level with you kid…." he told it. "…Y-you nearly caused your Grandpa Rick a breakdown. T-that's not cool. I-I-I mean that's totally …it's fairly fucked up. So…so you and I, we…we need some ground rules. Ok? Rule one. Don't you ever fucking do…fucking do that to me again. Do you understand."
Rick peered down at the tiny human under the screen and force fields of the incubator. It kicked slightly. And while there was no possible way for it to understand him, it's heartbeat responded to his words. Slowing in response to the sound of his voice.
He put one long digit through the field, a small blue spark harmlessly ensuring it was sterilised, before he made contact and stroked it along the small arm.
The baby reached its tiny digits out and clasped around the finger. Rick felt his expression soften. "You…your…a fighter…kid. You're…you're...supposed to be…a real…real fucking Captain America, Marvel…avengers…sort of shit…but but better…bec-because I made you. It's gonna be me and you kid. And we're gonna s-sort out this fucked—fucked up mess. Just you wait." He took another drink from his flask. "You're not like him…you're as smart as they come..because you're like me. And this world…this world is full of idiots that don't understand what's important. But if you stick with me, you're gonna accomplish great things. The outside world is our enemy. It's gonna be you and me kid a - a hundred years..."
He gently ran his hand over the blond fluff across the baby's head and sat in silence watching the small infant who had no idea of the purpose they had been born for.
