Let The Ricks Fall Where They May
Written by Kat_Aclysm
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick
Rated: - T for language
Disclaimers + Copyrights: I don't own any of these characters, this is a work of fanfiction. Rick and Morty is an Adult Swim animated comedy, created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon.
NOTE + Warning: Suicide is a subject in this chapter. Please be aware if you find such material distressing. Chapter has been tidied for grammar/repeats.
"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."
- Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
Chapter 5 – An Unfortunate Rickuation
November 19th, 6:28am Local Time, 2001
Birdperson's Tree House
Bird World, Dimension Unknown
Rick got up fairly early the next morning. A quick glance out the nearest window told him that the sun wasn't up yet, but time had never really mattered much to him. All he could think about was picking up where he had left off; his circuit-board designs were already near completion and it was driving him crazy. He left Morty to sleep on the roll-away cot and covered him up with the blanket, standing back for a moment to take in the picture of the peaceful, sleeping baby boy before him.
"Yeah, you win this time." He shook his head and smirked a little as he moved out the doorway. "Stay down, buddy... I'll be back soon. I promise."
Morty was still asleep; that was all that mattered. It meant that Rick could take time out for himself and he fully intended to take advantage of that. He spent ten minutes in the bathroom to sort out his most outstanding issues first, then stripped down to wash himself with a bucket of warm soapy water and a piece of cloth; he still wouldn't be able to have a proper shower until all the stitches came out of his back. Although it wasn't what he wanted, the alternative was worse.
Once he was dried off and dressed again, he brought Morty's baby supplies into the spare room and stuffed them into one of the empty boxes that had been left over from unpacking. Once satisfied with that, he kicked it under the work table so that it was out of the way but still accessible; he would need to use it later. After that, he retreated out of the room again to reheat a portion of vegetable soup on Birdperson's stove, finding it a little odd that birdpeople had perfectly civilized cooking and bathroom facilities, and even electricity, but not refrigeration.
"Oh well." Rick shrugged as he took the food back into the room. Once seated at the table, his attention was on the work before him and he began to ponder what to do next with the designing process.
Two sides of himself had been fighting with each other the whole time he had been drawing up the blueprints; he was torn between doing it quickly and doing it well. Rick had always been a perfectionist when it came to his own work and making a new portal gun for himself was no different. He knew he needed it soon but didn't want to do a bad job of it; rushing the art of design would just be poor craftsmanship.
He picked up the wooden bowl and shoveled rushed spoonfuls of soup into his mouth as he sat back to look over his design again, swallowing without chewing. While the circuit boards were finally designed to a point where he was finally satisfied with them, they still needed tweaking. He quickly finished off the soup and washed it down with a couple of swigs from his whiskey bottle, then leaned back over the desk to get back into it.
Over the next two hours, Rick was lost in what he was doing. However, as time ticked onward, he started to get a little concerned; Morty still hadn't woken up. He moved off the chair and stood over the cot, giving the little boy a gentle shake with two fingers.
Morty made a soft noise in protest and curled up, wanting to stay down.
Rick had to chuckle about that. "Oh, so it seems the tables have finally been turned around, little buddy. Y-you didn't think I could get my revenge, did you?" He lingered for a moment to pat Morty on the back, and as much as he wanted to bother the youngster into waking up, he knew that it would just be cruel. He sat back down in his chair to resume working, letting it go for a while longer. By the time he had finished sketching up the circuit-board designs entirely, Morty still wasn't awake.
Now it was just troubling him and he couldn't shake it.
"OK, kiddo. Time to wake up," the scientist's voice was authoritative this time, "I can't let this go on any further." He tossed his drawing implements aside and moved over the cot to pick Morty up; he would likely be hungry and would definitely need another diaper change. "H-hey, come on. Wake up, little buddy."
Morty's response was a weak whimper as he tried to curl up in Rick's arms. He was being really difficult to rouse, that was for sure.
Rick had to raise an eyebrow at the behavior; this one was new to him as well. He stood there to quietly watch the little boy, waiting for further body language cues that would give away any hints as to why he was behaving like this. Then he noted how red the young boy's cheeks were and his eyes widened at the observation. He promptly slipped a hand under Morty's shirt to feel his bare back, discovering that he was very warm to the touch.
"Oh fuck..." He felt his heart sinking in the realization of the situation. "Just fucking great. You better not be getting sick, you little turd!" Rick gritted his teeth and growled. "I don't want to deal with this right now... I-I want to finish making my goddamn portal gun!"
He carried Morty back to the table and set him in his lap as he sat back down on the chair. He began to rifle through the drawers of his desk as he looked for a temperature sensor that had previously been used for testing gun parts; its main purpose was to give readouts on heat output and to make sure nothing would explode during safe operation of the guns he made. However, he wouldn't be needing it for that anymore.
When he found the device in the second drawer of the desk, he wasted no time pulling it apart; it was about the size of an ordinary pen so it didn't take very long. In another couple of minutes he had his ionic soldering iron in hand and parts scattered across the top of his blueprints. He began to hastily modify the device, repurposing it entirely.
"Fucking hell... no, Morty. No! I... I can't deal with this shit... this is the last thing we need right now!" Rick was growling and although he knew that it sounded like he was very angry with the little boy, he didn't mean it at all. He wasn't going to fault him for being sick; he was just extremely frustrated with the situation. It was going to throw out his timing entirely.
When the temperature sensor's rewiring had been finished, he popped the probed-end back into the casing and clicked it all back together. He placed the probe of the device into his mouth to test that it worked, cringing a little at the taste; it was very metallic, and obviously not designed to test the temperature of living organisms. He checked the readout after the device had beeped, pleased to see that his temperature was normal, which meant that the modification was working as intended. He wasted no time wiping his slobber off the end and trying to get it into Morty's mouth.
Morty immediately protested and turned his head away. Despite the fact he was lethargic and wanted to keep on sleeping, he still tried to fight his grandfather every step of the way. He whimpered at the unpleasant taste and flailed both arms up to smack the device away, not at all liking what was happening to him.
"S-stop! It'll be over again before you know it, so shut up and let me do this to you." Rick growled at him, still very much frustrated. "Otherwise it's going straight up your ass. D-do you want to be violated like that, Morty? Do you? No, no you don't!"
After another few minutes of fighting with each other, Rick kept persisting until Morty finally conceded. The scientist simply held the temperature probe in the boy's mouth and anxiously waited for it to finish measuring. When it beeped, he held it up to get the readout – 101.4°F.
"Fucking... damn it. Damn it!" Rick was practically yelling as he threw the probe across the table again. He moved to his feet, carrying Morty with him as he stormed out of the room, his blood practically boiling over as his anger went from zero to eleven in two seconds. He concluded that there was only one way that his grandson could have gotten sick so soon and he fully intended to chase it up immediately.
"BIRDPERSON!" Rick bellowed out the name the moment he was in the living room. "Get your fucking ass out here, w-we need to talk!" His tone was authoritative and demanding. The loud noise made Morty flinch in his arms, but he didn't care; Birdperson needed to know he was angry.
Birdperson appeared in the doorway of his bedroom and then very calmly walked out into the living room to meet with the other. He was silent as he looked back at Rick, noticing he was positively livid. He was used to seeing Rick in this state and had never paid it much mind; the smaller human often had a temper like a pack of explosives. His attention drifted towards Morty and then back to Rick; he was staring back at him, wild-eyed and dangerous. The feathered male simply raised a singular eyebrow in silent query.
"Hey Birdperson, fuck YOU!" Rick yelled at him rather suddenly, fully intending to rip into him right off the bat. "Yy-y-you took my kid to your neighbor's house and now he has a fever because of it! Kids are disease vectors and mine has never been exposed to this environment before. Did that ever cross your fucking birdbrain mind? No?! Of COURSE your neighbor's kids would have made mine sick, BECAUSE THEY'RE BASICALLY DISEASE-RIDDEN CRAP FACTORIES WITH LEGS!"
"Rick-" Birdperson began.
Rick immediately cut him off; he wasn't having any of it. He stood tall on his feet, his chest puffed out as he continued letting the other have the full force of his bellowing rage. "Dii-d-did it ever occur to you to keep me informed about this stuff? Is there any seasonal thing going around? At what point did you go, 'hey, maybe I should tell my old buddy Rick about any kind of sickness bullshit currently going around my civilization'? No?! YOU DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME ABOUT THAT?!" Spit was flying out of his mouth as he yelled, and Morty was crying all over again. Rick ignored him and continued his irrational assault. "What kind of fucking friend ARE you, Birdperson!? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"
"Rick-" Birdperson said again, his feathers a little ruffled.
Rick cut him off a second time, not wanting him to get a word in and resumed his screaming tirade. "At what point do you fuck up so hard, Birdperson? I can't believe you would be so fucking careless, you stupid-ass birdbrain... this is basic intel you should be giving me right away! Do you have ANY idea HOW far this stupid BULLSHIT IS GOING TO PUT ME BACK!? FUCK YOU IN THE ASS, BIRDPERSON! THIS ONE IS ON YOU!" He panted slightly, otherwise quiet again, drool dripping down the side of his mouth like a rabid animal. In that moment, he may as well have been; he had completely lost it.
Birdperson simply stood there and let Rick abuse him with everything he had, knowing full well that just by standing there and being a verbal punching bag, it would help him let it all out and feel better again. When he finally had a moment of silence, he simply shook his head and began to talk.
"Rick. While the people of Bird World are capable of developing a fever, it is rare. None of our native planetary illnesses present with such sudden onset fever like this." He motioned across to Morty with a hand as he explained his thoughts, his voice still calm. "This is not familiar to me at all. The most common illnesses of hatchlings on Bird World include feather-molt, upper respiratory issues, intestinal parasites, and hives. I do not recognize this. Whatever this sickness is, it is native to your species."
Rick's eyes widened at Birdperson's commentary, knowing he was right; they must have brought it with them. He visibly sank in his posture again, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty about the outburst and harsh accusations he had just made of his friend. He was far too proud to apologize though, and simply stood there in the silence that followed. He quickly distracted himself with patting Morty's back, trying to soothe his cries.
"Rick," Birdperson began again, taking note of the other man's posture and expression, noting that his mind was working again; this was exactly what he wanted. "It would do you well to sit down and think your way through the problem. You have only been here for a day, perhaps two at most. Whatever Morty has, it is too short of a time period for it to have come from Bird World."
Rick's brows furrowed deep in thought. "Hmmm..."
"If this is going to get worse," Birdperson motioned a hand towards Morty again, "I will assist you in any way I can but can promise nothing. I will leave the boiler on as you will probably need sterilized hot water to brew medicine. If you do not know how to do this, I will show you."
Rick released a heavy sigh from the bottom of his lungs and lowered his head. That sharp feeling of guilt in his chest wasn't going away; he had wrongly accused his friend, he had screamed at him and completely lost the plot and yet, somehow through it all he was still trying to be helpful despite everything. "Birdperson, I-"
"Rick," It was Birdperson's opportunity to cut him off now. "Just leave. Go back to the spare nest room and work through your problem. I would rather not see you for a few hours." He wasn't actually angry, he was only saying it to get his friend's mind back on track. Sometimes the only way Birdperson could get Rick to calm down was to dismiss him entirely.
It seemed to work because Rick stood there for a moment, giving Birdperson a very unhappy look. He wanted to apologize right there and then, but he found himself hesitant to do so. He shook his head and simply slipped out of the living room again, retreating back to the spare nest room, carrying a quiet but very miserable Morty along with him. As he sat back down at the desk, he set Morty in his lap and began to think hard. Birdperson had been right; they had really only been here about a day or two, but his mind had been far too preoccupied in keeping Morty fed and clean as well as sorting his way through the absolute minefield of grief and loss when he allowed himself the time to feel it. There was also still the pressing issue of the portal gun design; their entire future was depending on it.
Whatever Morty had, it had to have come from Earth, before they had departed through the portal. Rick grabbed up a piece of blank blueprint paper and cleared away everything else on the desk in front of him. He set the paper down and began to draw, because he found that sometimes visually mapping out his thought processes would help him find reason and a solution.
Rick sketched up a timeline of the events that occurred thus far and then a couple of diagrams, tapping his pen on the table as he stared down at the data in front of him, trying to rack his brains for a logical explanation. At first he thought it might have been the common cold; incubation time for that was three to five days. Having a fever with a cold was uncommon, though, so he quickly dismissed it. Influenza was his next probable thought; it seemed to fit the profile a little better. His mind began to race with the other alternatives as he thought about all of the common childhood ailments that existed.
The only thing that fit the timeline exactly was the fact they had been in the park about 48 hours ago. At first he thought that the other kids in the park might have been the most likely infection pathway; he knew children were walking, talking disease vectors and nothing would convince him otherwise. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks: Morty had eaten a piece of candy he had found in the sandpit. Rick sat there as he reasoned through that thought, quickly concluding that it was the only viable explanation he had.
"God fucking damn it, Morty!" He growled aloud, feeling his anger rising all over again. "This is why you don't eat random shit you find lying around. Y-you're probably not even going to learn anything out of this, are you? Stupid little piece of shit... it serves your dumb ass right."
Morty had begun coughing while Rick complained at him, making miserable pained whining noises in between breaths. Rick idly patted his back as he crumpled up the piece of paper he had just been drawing on, only to be met with the sounds of the kid throwing up on him a moment later.
"Ah fuck, geez!" Rick quickly plucked Morty up, but it didn't stop. The baby boy continued vomiting down the front of his clothing and onto the floor below. After it was over, he began loudly crying once again; it had hurt, and he felt very unwell.
Rick simply held Morty at arm's length, a mixture of horrified and disgusted. He was used to his grandchildren throwing up; Morty had spit-up all the time when he was much smaller. However, he had always palmed the baby off onto his mother when it happened, and Morty had since grown out of the habit. No, this was a proper violent bout of genuine vomiting and he didn't like it one bit. Rick gritted his teeth and looked down at the floor as well as his pants; it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it still managed to utterly disgust him.
"Jesus, Morty, s-some fucking warning next time, huh? You just ruined some perfectly good clothes!" He growled out as he set the kid down on the floor next to the mess. "I'd give you some sympathy on this, but this is on you. You... y-you also just broke rule two. Stay there, I gotta clean this up. Holy shit..."
Rick was a mixture of worry and anger as he stripped off his pants, not seeming to care that he wasn't wearing underwear. After using the pants to absorb and clean up the mess on the floor, he stripped Morty's shirt off and dumped everything into a pile in the corner of the room, planning to launder everything at the earliest convenience because it was already starting to stink. After he had hastily pulled another pair of pants on, he went into the bathroom to grab up the bucket he had used for washing himself off earlier in the day, figuring it would be needed. He set it at the floor next to his chair and positioned the very miserable young boy over his knee to keep him at the ready for more of the same.
Over the next couple of hours, the situation only deteriorated further. Morty kept throwing up and then to add to the insult of being sick, it started coming out the other end. All Rick could do was hold the young child in position and wait it out. He kept his mind distracted with working on other parts of the portal gun's blueprints just to stop himself from going out of his mind with worry; if it kept going for too long, the little boy would start dehydrating.
Over the next five hours, Morty frequently broke rules one and two. Rick didn't seem to care anymore by this point and simply switched between holding the kid in place and changing over diapers as soon as they were bad enough; considering how sick Morty was, it didn't take long. His pants and shirt had been thrown up on, and he didn't even want to know what was on his sleeves anymore. At least he had more clothes, and it was still warm outside so he could do laundry if it really came to that. Morty had already gone through the two pairs of clothing he had left over and Rick was left with no other alternative other than to strip it off and leave the sick youngster in nothing more than a diaper, bundling him up in a spare lab coat to keep him warm and give him some kind of dignity.
When the bouts of vomiting had finally started slowing down, Rick filled a bottle up with sterile warm water and offered it to Morty in the attempt to get something back into him, though the kid simply wouldn't take it. After another hour had passed he had an eyedropper out and was using that instead as a means of getting fluids into him. He knew it would all pass and take its course, but it still managed to worry the hell out of him.
It was well past midnight on Bird World before Morty had finally stopped throwing up and pooping; he was finally asleep and utterly exhausted. Rick folded up a clean lab coat and tossed it onto the floor beside the cot, setting the bundle of lab coat and Morty down on it, entirely unwilling to share his bed with the youngster again until his stomach had calmed down.
He left Morty to sleep it off as he stepped back out of the room, clean clothes in one hand, the handle of the bucket in the other. He headed straight into the bathroom to dispose of the bucket's contents down the toilet. He was also in dire need of a good clean up.
After he was done and dressed again, he felt a little better about himself. Rick made his way out to the living room of Birdperson's tree house and sank heavily into the cushions of the couch, releasing a heavy sigh from his lungs; the last twelve hours with Morty had worn him down in every sense of the word. It had been positively horrible to sit through and watch, but he hoped Morty had gotten over the worst of it and would start climbing out the other side soon. Either way, he had needed to step out and take a break.
His brows were set in a deep, thoughtful scowl as he rested his head back on the cushions behind him, staring at nothing in particular above. He hadn't seen the illness coming but already had an educated guess about what it was; it hit hard and fast, taking Morty down in only a couple of hours.
He really wasn't liking the path some of his next thoughts began to take.
Birdperson had been out for most of the day and returned home to roost for the night. When he discovered that Rick was in his living room upon entering through the doorway, he stood there silently, not at all surprised to see him still awake; he had known the human to pace around his house at all hours of the night and it wasn't unusual behavior. When he noted that Rick wasn't in a bad mood, he casually stepped past him and moved through to the kitchen and began brewing herbal tea, figuring that his friend could probably do with it.
"Rick," he said after he had stepped back into the living room, carrying two cups in each hand. Even though it was his house, he stood nearby as if waiting for permission to be there, gauging the other man's reaction to his presence. "How goes your evening? When I was home earlier, I listened to some of the events in the spare nest room but I did not intrude because I figured that you had everything under control."
"Sorry about losing my shit at you earlier, BP." Rick said right away, not bothering to look down. He closed his eyes after another short moment. "Y-yeah, everything's probably under control by now... f-for now, anyway." He twisted his mouth into a deep frown when the last sentence came out.
"What do you mean?" Birdperson set one cup down on the coffee table in front of Rick and sat down beside him. "Is there more to this that I should know?"
Rick sat up, only to slump forwards again in posture. "Ugh..." He reached out with one hand to pick up the cup of tea and took a moment to sip from it. "Birdperson, I need you to take my grandson to your neighbor's house. N-not right away, but... eh." He buried his forehead in his other hand. "Just do it."
Birdperson was taken aback by the statement, yet showed nothing outwardly. Considering how adamant Rick had been about having his grandson close by at all times until this point, he found the new commentary mildly alarming and he began to wonder if something more serious was going on. "You are not coping with the responsibility of raising a young child?"
"N-no, that's not it," Rick shook his head, "Morty's fine, I've been able to handle everything he's thrown at me, surprisingly. But..." He sat up, not really wanting to finish his sentence or even bother explaining his thought processes to the other. "J-just take him away from me tomorrow."
"Rick," Birdperson sat up straight this time, looking down at him, "I cannot adequately deal with your request if you do not give me more details. You need to tell me what is going on. Forgive my forwardness with this next assumption, but if you are planning to take your own life, then you need to speak up immediately. Losing one's family and planet can be a very difficult situation to live through, so it is understood. However, there are many alternatives available and you can be assisted through your situation. You are too valuable to lose."
"Wh-w-what?!" That one had completely taken him unaware. Rick wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that subject right now, but he certainly wasn't going to get into it at any point with anyone else, let alone his best friend. "That's totally not it, Birdperson!" He growled out the reply, immediately going on the defensive. "Holy shit, where the fuck did that even come from!? That's not it at all! N-nowhere close to it!"
Birdperson sat through the outburst, saying nothing. He had said what he needed to, and now that Rick was angry, he wanted to be quiet and let him calm down again.
"Shit, no-no-no..." Rick shook his head quickly, motioning away with his free hand as if to dismiss the issue entirely. "Don't ever ask me that again!" He took another sip of the tea and began to settle again, his expression still a mixture of deep unhappiness and resignation. "Look, you can't take what I'm saying at face value? You're really... just going to make me explain this, aren't you? Y-you're... going to keep pushing me."
"Yes." Birdperson nodded once in reply. Rick's body language was entirely giving him away, and the bird man knew something was still troubling him. If suicide wasn't the reason, then he couldn't work out what else it could be.
"Look, Birdperson, fine... I-I need to go rogue for a few days." Rick sighed heavily, already finding it very difficult for him to explain and admit to. "I also probably need to take out about three gallons of water with me." He set the cup on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch again, his gaze returning to the ceiling. "If Morty has what I think it is, I need to disappear. The stupid illness is a virus that inflames your stomach and intestines. No matter what it does, it's highly contagious. W-which means I have a near 100% chance of getting infected with it as well; it's probably already incubating as we speak. The kid threw up on me all day and worse, those things are the virus's main infection vectors." Rick scowled suddenly, almost sounding like an argumentative child as he spoke again. "I don't wanna deal with this, I want to finish the portal gun!"
"Rick, is that it?" Birdperson spoke again, his voice staying calm. "That is all that is troubling you?"
Rick sat up again and stared back hard at the other. He simply couldn't understand why he didn't seem to mind. "Y-yeah... don't make me repeat it."
Birdperson's shoulders shrugged ever so slightly. "If you are going to end up as unwell and incapacitated as your grandson has done today, then you need to stay in the tree house. You have already been through too much in the last two days. I do not want to see this kill you."
"It's not fatal, Birdperson." Rick felt his anger rising again, but he kept it in check. "And, what? Seriously? No! Gross. You don't wanna put up with me in that state. I'll be completely useless and it will be coming out both ends... e-everywhere. Have you seen the Exorcist movie? Well, it's... it's pretty much like that."
"Whatever it takes," Birdperson shrugged, "I will take your grandson back to Gresharak when your health deteriorates. You will need to concentrate all your efforts into getting well again, let alone be tied up in the responsibility of a young child who is entirely dependent on you."
"Fine..." Rick huffed aloud as he folded his arms across his chest, conceding in defeat. "B-but leave me the hell alone when it happens, huh? You don't need to see that." He picked up the cup of tea again and took another long sip now that it was cool enough. He needed something to fill the hole until everything went downhill.
Birdperson watched him, seeming content that Rick had agreed to staying in his tree house; it meant that he could keep a close eye on him. He simply sat in the human's company for a while, silent as he drank his own cup of tea. After a while, he spoke up again. "So how is he doing?"
"Huh?" Rick blinked at the sudden question, then shrugged. "Oh, you mean Morty? Yeah, he's asleep, finally. He's doing all right now, I think... he's probably gotten over the worst of it by now; the young ones always seem to bounce back pretty quickly." He finished off the herbal tea and set the cup back down. "He'll be better once he's able to drink something. Be sure to tell your neighbor that once she gets him." As Rick sat there and listened to himself, he realized how much of a concerned parent he was sounding like right now, and he was very self-aware of the fact. He made a sharp snorting sound as if to cover for himself, glaring at the front door. "F-fucking little turd. Wasted half the damn day..." Without waiting for a response, he moved to his feet and headed off down the hallway, returning to the spare nest room, totally done with the conversation.
Birdperson simply watched him go, not saying anything this time. He didn't need to; Rick had already said all that had needed to be said.
Rick shut the door behind him and slumped face first down onto the cot. He was too angry and frustrated after that conversation with Birdperson, and now that he knew what was coming for him, it didn't help his mood at all. He raised his head momentarily to look down at Morty, relieved to see the kid resting comfortably on his side; it was a welcome sight after everything that had happened and the hell he had been put through seemed worth it all of a sudden. Rick quickly reached out to pull the edges of the lab coat back up over Morty's body, covering him up so he would stay warm during the night.
He buried his face back down in the pillow again, entirely upset with the thought that Birdperson had asked him if he was suicidal. Sure, of course he'd thought about it: who wouldn't have in his current circumstances? However, he really hadn't known that it was that obvious. He made a mental note to bury his emotions even further in Birdperson's presence next time, even though the guy had pretty much nailed it on the head, however much he didn't want to admit it.
He pulled the covers over himself and rolled onto his side, angry all over again. He didn't really want to kill himself, did he? He pondered that thought as his eyes watched Morty's chest rise and fall in the dim light of the room. Despite everything else he was feeling right now, he was relieved that his grandson was asleep, because it meant that his immune system had a much better chance of overcoming the virus. He simply watched the other until he eventually drifted off himself.
He wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up again, but he could already feel waves of nausea circling the pit of his gut. Rick had predicted exactly what was coming because it had been too obvious to be anything else. It didn't matter what he did, because in a few hours it was going to strike him down hard, just like it had done to Morty. There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
When he heard the soft noises next to his bed, he was quick to get up. He cared nothing about how he felt right now; getting the baby hydrated again was his only priority. He slipped out of the room only to return a few minutes later with a warm bottle of formula he had mixed up at half-strength. He picked the bundle of clothing and Morty up in one arm, the bottle in his other as he sat back down on the edge of the cot and tried to make him drink.
Morty wiggled and squirmed in protest almost immediately; he still wasn't having a bar of what the other was doing to him. He made short, angry, loud noises and then started growling, which was definitely a noise he had only learned recently. It had seemed to work for his grandfather, and now he was trying it out to see how successful it would be if he did it, too.
Rick simply sat back and watched, letting him work out his anger. He seemed hopeful as he listened to the noises his grandson was making and took it as a good sign; he must be feeling a little better if he was energetic enough to be defiant.
As he propped Morty up into a sitting position, he placed one hand around the youngster's stomach, pushing him further back in his lap until his little spine bumped against his chest. "Come on, little buddy... you gotta do this. You started it in the first place, now finish it." He gently persisted as he held the bottle in place, making another attempt to get the plastic rubber teat into the youngster's mouth. "T-this is probably hard for you to understand, but it's important right now. The sooner you do this, the faster you'll get over it again. Come on, do this one favor for me, huh? I'll let you do anything. You can climb all over me, beat me up if you want to. I'll even let you pull on my hair again. Maybe I'll even let you touch my portal gun, huh?" He made a quick mental note to design a locking safety feature when he was ready to design the controls for the device.
Morty made another loud grumble and kicked his left foot out, thumping his grandfather straight in the leg with his heel. After another moment of whining, he finally grabbed at the bottle and began to suck on it.
Rick breathed a soft sigh, feeling a small sense of relief. He dared not move, as he worried the slightest movement or disruption would stop Morty from what he was doing and was prepared to sit there as long as it took.
To his credit, Morty finished well over half the contents of the bottle. He sat up to launch it across the room and made a loud burping sound, then relaxed back into his grandfather's chest.
"Heh," Rick couldn't help but feel amused. "Good effort, little buddy. I'm proud of you." He placed a hand on Morty's forehead to check him over, noting that although he was still feeling warm to the touch, it was definitely more acceptable than it had been yesterday. "Look, I gotta be level with you... that horrible thing you have? It's going to take me down, too. Y-you don't wanna see me like that, so... I need you to hang out at the neighbor's house for the day."
Morty looked up at his grandfather as he spoke but didn't understand any of it. All he could pick up was the tone of voice and he didn't like it.
"I know it's not a good plan, but it's all we've got to fall back on right now." Rick continued the explanation, taking the youngster's attentiveness as another good sign. "Something else you need to understand... you need to behave while you're over there, huh? None of that... clingy bullshit you've been trying on me. G-got that?" He poked Morty in the chest. "This is serious."
Rick shifted Morty off his lap and placed him down beside him on the cot. After stepping across to the work table, he retrieved a small box from the space at the back; it wasn't much, but it would have to do. He upended it straight onto his set of blueprints, only to immediately fill it back up again with baby supplies in preparation for the handover. As Rick went through the box under his desk, he discovered that he was nearly out of diapers; Morty had gone through far more than the average yesterday. He couldn't worry about that now, though; it only meant that he would have to sort out an alternative as soon as he could. Once the box was loaded up, he grabbed Morty up in his free arm and stepped out into the hallway.
"I really mean it today, little buddy, no clingy bullshit. Y-you gotta be brave in life, it's only gonna get harder from here. But you gotta keep pushing through it all no matter what happens." As he listened to his own words, part of him wished he could take his own advice. He pushed the thought down and made his way into the living room, where he saw Birdperson at the stove. Good; that was what he wanted right now.
"Hey." Rick said simply to get the other male's attention, standing there as he waited to be acknowledged. He didn't want to do this, but he had little other choice. "I-I think we're ready to proceed."
"Rick?" Birdperson looked up from what he was doing; he had been brewing up something and the kitchen was filled with the rich smell of earthy notes. "How is your health?"
"I'm fine. For now." Rick shrugged. "Here, j-just take him already, might as well get it over with now before shit starts happening," he scowled, quickly adding, "literally."
Birdperson took the pot off the heat and moved over to take Morty out of Rick's arms. "Gresharak has agreed to take your grandson for as long as it takes. I would talk about this in further detail but must depart, as she is expecting us."
Morty immediately began to whimper as he was handed over. He didn't know what was happening, but already wanted to protest. He began to flail his arms, making grabbing motions with his hands back in the direction of his grandfather.
"Wait." Rick said quickly, realizing that he sounded hesitant the second it had come out. He quickly held out the cardboard box to cover for it. "Take this, too. Everything is in there. There are also directions on the sachets, it's not that hard to follow. Tell her to get his fluids up. He really needs to focus on that today, you'll..." He had to catch himself, realizing that he was sounding like a concerned parent all over again - far too sentimental. "Just get fluids into him, top priority. F-fucking drown him if you have to."
Birdperson reached out to take the box and turned to leave. Rick watched him go, his attention on Morty the entire time. A small sigh escaped him as he watched the little boy trying to climb over Birdperson's shoulder and reach back for him, his arms flailing and desperate. After they were out the door, Morty had begun screaming again. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but knew it was for the best.
Rick just stood there until they were gone and turned on his heels, momentarily detouring to the bathroom to retrieve the bucket; it would be needed again. He headed back into the spare nest room and wasted no time to turn off the overhead light. He dumped the bucket down on the floor next to his chair and sat down to work; if this stupid stomach virus was going to take him down, so be it, but he was adamantly determined to be as productive as possible until it happened.
Rick gathered up the scattered electrical components and pushed them into a pile on the far corner of the table, resuming where he left off on the design process. After a while, he pulled out yet another blank blueprint page and began sketching up the outside casing for the portal gun; he wanted it to be a much more sleek and compact design this time, and easier to fit into his pocket. He also decided that if the casing were more solid and flat, it would have less chance of being broken when thrown around. He'd always been rough on the previous portal guns and knew that it was very likely going to be subjected to harsh treatment again on future adventures.
Even though the scientist knew the sickness was coming, he still wasn't prepared for it. He was barely able to tolerate the sharp waves of nausea that seared through his gut like burning fire. He could taste bile in the back of his throat, and he felt like he was overheating. Although he'd been sick more times than he could count from binge drinking, that was at least fun and went away as soon as blood alcohol was absorbed by the liver. This was totally different and would only keep getting worse.
Rick picked up his bottle of whiskey, downing several mouthfuls of it before going back to what he was doing; if he was going to end up absolutely wrecked then he wanted to numb as much of it as possible. When his lower abdominal region began to cramp up, he hunched over the desk and did his best to ignore it, though it didn't last very long; his stomach very quickly made sure of that. It gave a sudden heave and he grabbed up the bucket as quickly as possible, making harsh, loud retching sounds as he threw up the contents of his stomach. He simply sat there and let it happen, powerless to do anything else until it was over. The moment he was done, he set the bucket back down onto the floor and went straight back to work, not even bothering to wipe off his mouth.
"Stupid fucking dumbass Morty and his fucking sandpit candy bullshit..." He growled to himself as he adjusted his work lamp. "F-fuck you, Morty, you're the one who did this to me. Fuck you..." He couldn't really fault his grandson for it because the kid wasn't old enough to know any better, but right now he needed something to blame.
Over the next several hours it only got worse, just as predicted. Between rushed trips to the bathroom and sitting at the desk, Rick knew he was only wearing himself down faster yet pushed through it anyway; he had always been good at being stubborn.
It had gotten dark outside and he worked under the dim light of his work lamp until he couldn't concentrate on the blueprints any longer. After yet another round of violent retching, the scientist finally decided to call it quits and moved over to the cot, taking the bottle of whiskey and the bucket with him. He was utterly exhausted as he sat back down on the cot; his bouts of vomiting had sapped all the energy out of him.
Rick set the bucket beside the bed and ripped the cork off the bottle, spitting it across the room. He knew that it certainly wasn't what he was meant to be doing right now, but he was beyond caring; all he wanted was for everything to stop.
He began to chug from the bottle like it was water. It burned all the way down and his throat already hurt, so it didn't matter; if his stomach could absorb the alcohol faster than his next round of vomiting, then what he was doing to himself would be worth it. He finally lay down on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, simply lying there for however long he could until either his stomach or his lower gut decided to revolt again. He felt like he was on fire, yet he could feel his body shivering. He pulled the bed covers over his head and wished that everything in existence would just go away.
He thought that he had hit rock bottom when he had come through the portal a few days ago, but the virus was like a kick to the balls while he already was down in the gutter; this was the bottom now. A sense of complete hopelessness washed over him as the alcohol kicked in and he began to cry into his pillow; he felt like garbage in every sense of the word. He didn't even try to stop himself or muffle the sound this time, he just let it out as soon as it came.
His sick addled mind soon began taking him to dark places that he didn't really want it to wander, the large amount of alcohol swimming through his head not helping one bit. He began mentally telling himself over and over again that the situation was hopeless, his life was a lie, and that he was a complete and utter failure. Earth was gone because of him and him alone, everyone was dead and it was all his fault. And Morty, oh god, that poor little boy; he deserved so much more than what he could give.
No matter what he did, he would never be able to make things right again.
A heavy stab of guilt hung over his heart as he thought about that. Everything was his fault; the little boy had no future because of him. No matter what he did, he would never be a proper substitute for the kid's real parents and he was totally kidding himself if he even thought for a minute that he could because he was too screwed up himself. He'd already damaged Morty more than enough, the youngster's clingy dependency behavior existed entirely because of him. Maybe there would be some permanent psychological damage and he would be screwed up for the rest of his life because of it: he simply didn't know.
Rick began to wish with every fiber of his being that he hadn't cared so much. He wished that he could have just had the sense to leave Morty behind to die; at least then he would be with the rest of his family. The drunken scientist raised his head, his eyes widening in the realization that he still didn't even know what to do. Then he concluded that he had never really ever known what to do in the first place; most of the time he was just winging it and using his intelligence to get himself out of trouble. He couldn't think his way out of this one. And after a few moments, not even that mattered either.
After another round of mentally beating himself, Rick forced himself onto his feet, his stomach twisting into sudden knots of pain, protesting to the sudden movement. As he drunkenly stumbled across the room back towards the table, he threw up down the front of his shirt and onto the floor; he didn't care.
His eyes scanned across the desk, soon eyeing off one of the old guns he had designed well over twenty years ago. As he picked it up, he took a moment to admire his own craftsmanship, finding it fitting that he should be doing this with something he had designed himself. He was the cause of all his problems after all, of course he should be solving them with something he had created by his own hand.
He clicked the firing mechanism into place and placed the end of the barrel straight between his eyes. He hesitated only for a moment before pulling the trigger.
Click.
Nothing.
Rick raised an eyebrow and pulled the trigger twice more, only to remove it again and discover it had no charge left; the battery had probably been depleted well over a decade ago. He threw the gun hard at the floor and crumpled into the chair at the desk with heavy defeat. He leaned forward onto the table and began openly sobbing into his blueprints.
After everything that had happened, he had finally decided that this was the bottom - and he was such a failure that he couldn't even kill himself properly with his own gun.
Birdperson opened the door to the spare nest room a few hours later. He had spent all day brewing up something particularly complicated and he figured that his friend's stomach would have finally calmed down enough to allow him to administer it.
The silence in the room had gone on far too long for his liking and he was growing concerned; he knew Rick's mind wasn't in a good place to begin with and he wanted to check on him. What he saw next in the light of the dim room next made all of his feathers ruffle; Rick was hunched over the chair, his head slumped down on his desk. His hands were completely relaxed at his sides and there was a large gun on the floor nearby.
Birdperson stepped across the room in three paces, immediately placing his free hand on Rick's neck, relieved to discover that his heartbeat was a strong, rhythmic pulse and that he was still very much alive. He was also very warm to the touch and drenched in sweat.
"Rick," he said promptly, "wake up." He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and began to shake him while he continued to hold the small cup he had brought in with the other.
"H-huh..?" Rick weakly groaned in response. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to feel anything.
"Rick," Birdperson said again, though this time it was more firm. "You need to sit up."
"Fff..." Rick hissed out harshly in reply, his voice weak and hoarse. "F-fuck off..."
Birdperson decided that he had enough of this behavior. He set the cup down and planted both hands firmly on the other male's shoulders. "Get up."
Rick responded this time, doing what he was told. As he sat up in the chair, the smell of his own clothes hit him; he reeked of alcohol and bile and had to recoil a little at the sharp stench. He wiped his eyes off on his sleeve and turned his head away; there was no way he could hide what he was feeling right now.
Birdperson simply moved around the chair until he was standing in front of his friend's field of vision again. He picked up the cup and held it out. "Drink this."
"No point, o-only going to throw it back up..." Rick kept his head still, but didn't want to look up; he already knew what Birdperson would have walked in on and there was no way out of it. He felt utterly ashamed of himself.
Birdperson leaned over the other, placing a hand under Rick's chin. He tilted his head up just enough so he could place the edge of the cup to his mouth. "Drink this," he repeated himself in the exact same tone he had just used, "it will help to break the cycle of purging."
Rick furrowed his brows as if to protest, but then thought better of it. He reached up with a hand to hold the cup and began to slowly down the contents. It tasted vaguely of aniseed and dirt, along with several other strong herbs that he couldn't identify. While the flavor wasn't unbearable, he found it unpleasant. Still, he drank the whole thing if just to humor the other. If he threw it back up again, at least it would mean that his statement would have been right.
Birdperson simply stood there, supervising the other while he drank. When Rick was done, he took the cup away and stepped back towards the door. "Go back to bed," his voice had resumed its plain and calm tone, "you will feel much better tomorrow morning. We will have another talk then."
Rick visibly flinched at those words; he didn't want to do anything of the sort. Though if it would make Birdperson go away, he would do what he said. He shakily pushed himself onto his feet and drunkenly stumbled back towards the bed, collapsing down on it in a semi-coordinated tumble.
Birdperson was satisfied. He shut the door again and left Rick to sleep it off.
It was probably the medicine that Birdperson had given him, or the huge load of whiskey he had consumed along with it, that finally knocked him out completely. He didn't hear the sound of the portal opening up near the cot, nor did he register the sound of another moving around near his work table, shuffling things across and under the desk, adding to them, removing other things again.
He definitely didn't notice when the other moved over him and momentarily lingered to shoot him in the neck with a needle gun.
The other simply picked up the bucket, reaching into the portal to grab another one identical to it. He dropped it beside the cot and stepped back through the portal once more. It disintegrated as its owner went back through and it broke apart as if it had never existed.
Rick continued sleeping, snoring his head off, completely unaware of what had just happened to him.
