Let The Ricks Fall Where They May

Written by Kat_Aclysm
Beta Read by Unlvcrjchick
Rated: - T for language

Disclaimers + Copyrights: If I could steal this IP and claim it for myself, I totally would. But Rick and Morty doesn't belong to me, and certainly not in this reality.

NOTE: Stuff happens in dis one broh. Have a massive fluff chapter and a D&M.


Caged, hold so tight until your knuckles show
Escape as far away as you could ever know
You sink them all down
Watch them float up
'til the wheel has spun around

You will be bound by what you are

- Passenger - Powderfinger


Chapter 15 – An Attempt At Rickonciliation

November 26th, 9:04pm Local Ship Time, 2001
Unnamed Nebula, Space

'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316


The sounds of high-pitched screams cut through the quiet of the room and the distant thrum of ship engines; two opponents were currently engaged in a battle of will.

Approximately five minutes ago, Rick had decided that Morty was filthy enough to warrant being washed. While the little boy had made a good effort of demolishing most of his grandfather's breakfast, he had also done a rather spectacular job of managing to wear half of it in the process. He had pancake crumbs and dried cereal flakes through his hair and the front of his shirt and sleeves were heavily caked with scrambled-egg stains.

That had been hours ago. Rick had let it go initially, as Morty seemed more interested in playing with toys and exploring the small room. Although he didn't want to deny him his happiness, now he was starting to smell and it bothered him. Unbeknownst to Rick, Morty hated anything to do with water and to this point others had done the job of bathing him instead. He had fought through those occasions as well, but Rick hadn't been present for them to learn otherwise.

Morty was still a baby in many aspects, but he was by no means stupid. When he first heard the sound of running shower water, he ignored it and continued playing with the toys on the floor. However, when his grandfather came for him, his little mind was able to put two and two together and he darted under the table just out of reach, buying himself at least 30 seconds of time.

"Get out from under there, Morty! You can't avoid it forever, you little piece of shit." Rick scolded him, though he did his best to contain his temper; he didn't trust himself not to lose it again. "Stop fucking around and wasting my time!"

"Mm-mm... n..." Morty looked back up him, his brows knitted in hard concentration as he struggled with the attempt to pronounce the sounds correctly. "Nn... n-no!"

Rick raised both eyebrows, genuinely surprised; he had just witnessed the most complete word Morty had ever spoken in his short life. "W-what did you just say to me?"

Morty was spurred on by the question and the desire to make himself heard. "N... N-NO!" He said it with much more volume this time, having learned that most of his family yelled when they wanted their way.

Rick couldn't believe what he was hearing - his only grandson, his last-living blood relative, the slobbering meat sack that never did what he was told, who couldn't follow instructions, or pay attention to anything for more than five seconds was actually talking to him, and with some degree of genuine clarity. Rick was practically beaming with pride. A wide, ridiculous grin came over the older man's face and he crouched down next to his grandson, reaching out to affectionately ruffle his hair to praise him for what he had just done.

"Hey, that was really good!" His elation was cut short as his fingers got stuck in the clumps of dried cereal in the young boy's hair, and he remembered why they were there. "Great job, little buddy. You have no idea how proud I am of you right now," the grin on his face faded and his tone was firm again, "but nobody tells me 'no', especially when they're only two feet tall." He snatched at the collar of the little boy's shirt and pulled on it. "You're not getting out of this!"

Morty made a loud yelp in protest and began flailing. He managed to struggle his way out of the shirt he had been wearing and got to his feet, screaming once more as he ran out from under the table, retreating to the bunk bed. In another moment, he had clambered up onto it and backed up against the window, staring at Rick, wide-eyed and fearful.

Rick got to his feet again, raising an eyebrow at the behavior. "I don't get you... you survived the goddamn apocalypse, b-but you're afraid of the shower?" He stood there, giving them both some time to calm down again. "Sorry Morty, but you can't win this one. How bad would I look if I let you stay like that? You're disgusting." He slowly moved towards the bed again, stopping directly in front of it.

Morty responded with another loud, upset sound as if pleading for him to not come any closer, his back pressed hard up against the glass.

Rick's anger dissipated as he figured that there had to be more to this than what he was observing; such a harsh reaction was likely a result of a negative experience. Had he suffered some kind of trauma? The scientist quickly concluded it probable, especially considering some of the more recent behaviors he had seen him exhibiting. He found himself wishing that Morty could just tell him the reason behind it all, but he was still far too young.

He decided that trying a different approach might work out better – patience.

As Rick sat down on the edge of the bed, he patted the space next to him. "Come on, Morty. Don't be like that..." His tone was far more gentle this time. "Is it really that bad for you?" The edge of his mouth twisted into an uncomfortable frown at his next thought. "Would it make you feel better if I went in there with you?" As he cast an awkward glance back in the direction of the shower, the thought came to mind that his suggestion happened all the time; humans had been bathing with their offspring for as long as the species itself had existed.

It still didn't stop it from being a little weird.

With a small defeated sigh, Rick mentally resolved himself to the fact that it was just something he'd have to do; he would do anything for Morty, including pushing through his own uncomfortable feelings if he had to demonstrate that there was nothing to be afraid of. "It'll be fine, you'll see. You've gotta start trusting me more, kid." He took off his lab coat and shirt, dumping them on the floor next to his feet. "Everything I've done to this point has been for your benefit... a-and sometimes to my detriment." Only after removing his pants did he realize how warm the room actually was.

He heard slow, hesitant footfalls across the surface of the bed, but he dared not move in case it would make the other change his mind. When he felt the tiny pair of hands lightly pushing onto his back, he couldn't help but smirk a little; he'd just won. "There you go, I was hoping you'd come around. Aren't things so much easier when you just do what you're told?"

Morty responded with a small, pathetic, squeaking sound in the back of his throat.

Rick was quiet this time as he reached around behind him to gently pull the little boy into his lap; there was little point in pushing the issue anymore. The whole situation already seemed too familiar - it reminded him of his own non-compliance with the other Ricks and of the fact that his stubbornness was one of the major reasons he was stuck here. As he looked down at Morty, he began wondering if he would grow up to be as strong willed as he was; Beth had been that way and it had been developing in Summer as well. The more and more he observed Morty's behavior, the more he saw reflections of his own personality and it was actually starting to concern him. He wondered what kind of things he was imparting onto the little boy and how the hell he was supposed to raise such an innocent young life without totally screwing him up as bad as he was himself.

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind again when they began to sting; he didn't want to think about it or the rest of his family.

After stripping Morty of all his clothes, he added them to the pile on the floor and ignored the increasing volume of cries as he carried him into the bathroom. By the time he was standing in front of the shower recess, the little boy had escalated the protest to full-blown wailing at the top of his lungs.

"Holy shit..." Rick gritted his teeth as his eardrums were painfully assaulted, the sound being made even worse by the fact it was echoing off the walls. "You're really going for it there, aren't ya?" He simply stood there and firmly held onto his grandson, patiently waiting for the opportunity to continue. "OK, come on. That's enough."

Morty vaguely understood the gist of the instruction but still wasn't prepared to give up; this strategy wasn't working out for him, so he tried another. He put his head down and buried his face into his grandfather's shoulder, sobbing right next to his ear. He began to babble strings of upset nonsense at him in-between sobs, his body trembling with fear.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you, buddy... it sucks." Rick patted him on the back as he spoke to him in the most gentle tone he could manage while still trying to remain firm. "But you have to deal with this at some point. You're not going to be little forever. People do this every day, at least, they're supposed to. You know that, right?" He felt bad for the fact that he had to force this onto the youngster, but there was no way he was going to back down now, not while they were this close. "Whatever happened to being brave?"

With one last sobbing heave, Morty finally conceded and was silent again.

"Hah, there you go." Rick simply stood there and cradled him in one arm as he adjusted the shower taps to a more acceptable heat setting. "Was that so bad?" He tucked his thumb into the waistband of his underpants and let them drop to the floor as he finally stepped into the running shower.

In that moment, something switched off in Morty like a lightbulb, and his entire line of objection was completely forgotten as quickly as the warm water splashed down over his back.

"See, what did I tell you?" Rick couldn't help himself. "I told you so. I have plenty more of those where that came from, too. Grandpa dispenses good advice, and don't you forget it." He wasted no time as he started what needed to be done; actually washing Morty turned out to be easier than he had first thought - it wasn't a difficult feat to balance the young boy in one arm and access the soap dispenser on the wall with the other.

In another five minutes, the entire ordeal was over and done with. Morty had become completely relaxed and dreamily content along the way and Rick was satisfied with the result. He rewarded the behavior with three short pats on the back, deciding to just stay there a little longer in an effort to reinforce the positive experience. He had to admit that while standing completely naked in the shower with somebody related to him was still unnerving, but being there in the warmth and closeness of each other's company was pleasant. Having the little kid sleep on his chest had been good in itself, but the direct skin-to-skin contact was even better than that. For one rare moment, he felt happier than he had been in a long time. Morty's presence would never be able to fully erase the minefield of pain that he kept avoiding every time it resurfaced, but he definitely made it a lot more bearable. It also reminded him of how inextricably bound they were by now.

He was brought back to reality when Morty began poking at his bare chest, intrigued by the lighter patches of scarring across his collarbone and sternum.

"Ah, that's a plasma burn. R-reeeeally old, but it probably happened not too long after I got into my first skirmish with the bureaucrats." Rick's explanation was calm and casual. "The bastard got a lucky shot in... the electrical discharge was strong enough to stop my heart, but the people of Bird World know CPR, which is fortunate for you, because neither of us would be here if they didn't." He lightly tapped the little boy on the end of his nose. "So, word of advice here, Morty - try to avoid getting shot if you can. Plasma rounds cauterize, but the burns they leave behind are particularly painful."

Morty's reply was soft nonsense as he snuggled into the crook of his grandfather's neck; he was actually starting to fall asleep.

Rick smirked in amusement. "Do you think you could maybe remember this the next time you wanna start throwing a temper tantrum about it? I'm glad you got over it, but I don't wanna see it again. Got that?"

Morty had no response for him this time, other than a tiny yawn.

Rick would never admit any such feelings out loud, but even he had to concede how cute Morty was being. "OK, little buddy, I can see you're done. There's nothing left to do here anyway... you're all set." He turned the shower off again and gently set the little boy down onto the floor beside him. "Though if you could, try not to bitch so much next time, alright? It wasn't a big deal, was it? No." After retrieving a fresh towel from the rack, he dropped it over Morty and hastily retrieved the second so he could cover up his nakedness. However, the moment he had secured the towel in place around his waist, Morty had scooted out from under his own and retreated into the room.

Rick raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in behavior. "Huh, so much for that... were you gonna nap or not? Make up your damn mind, Morty. A-at least dry off, you sneaky little shit!"

Morty ignored him completely - he was having far more fun running around the table, completely stark naked.

Rick huffed at him. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He stepped out of the room and began chasing him with the towel, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. "Are you nuts? There's cameras watching us, and right now you're giving them a pretty damn good show of your ass. Are you a streaker, Morty? No, no you're not!"

Morty began his screaming tirade all over again, though this time it was simply because he was having fun. The fact that Rick was chasing him now only added to his delight; it was a great game to run away from him.

"Goddamn it, Morty! G-get back here!"

It seemed that round two had begun.


After the near-impossible task of drying off and dressing a little boy who didn't know the meaning of staying still, Rick had made some interesting observations; the table in the room had been cleared and there was a green light over the door. There was also another set of freshly laundered clothes waiting for him on the bed, but he had neither seen nor heard anyone come in. He found his attention back on the ceiling and was annoyed that he still hadn't located any of the observation cameras.

"I know you're stalking me, but holy shit, guys. This is just getting weird." He folded his arms across his chest as he spoke to the unseen forces that might be watching him. "You still haven't lulled me into a false sense of security either. You're going to have to try a lot harder than that." With a disapproving snort, he disappeared into the bathroom so he could finish drying off and get dressed. Once done, he was at the door, his attention back on the light overhead – was it meant to be a mistake or not?

Only one way to find out.

With a casual reach across to access the keypad on the wall beside the door-frame, the air-lock gave a hydraulic hiss as it released the locking pins and the door casually swung open before him.

"Huh, weird." Rick raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. A quick peek into the hallway revealed a plain cardboard box sitting just outside the doorway; it was simply too big to miss. He wasted no time grabbing one of the corners to haul it inside.

Morty had been watching the scene with great interest and was already curious enough to come over and check it out. A box was just like any other box to him; something fun that he could get into. Once his little hands were on it, he began trying to push it over.

"Stop that, Morty. This one is mine." Rick firmly planted one hand on the top. "Go trash your own shit." Despite his annoyance, he was as curious as his grandson was. Both brows were raised as he tore off the letter stuck to the lid of the box. He opened it up and began to read:

"Rick B-526,

I am still not certain what kind of timetable your body operates on but it is likely that nobody else will be here when your sleeping pattern tells you it is morning. In our absence, this care package should keep you entertained. It has been provided in preparation for your eventual release.

I am satisfied that your immune system is still somewhat functional so I am giving you clearance to move into the larger sections of the ship. Among the more basic essentials included, you will find a small wristband which contains an RFID chip. This will grant you access to areas of the ship where the oxygenated atmosphere still exists. Wear it on your wrist or your ankle, whichever you feel makes you look less ridiculous. Enclosed is a small datapad - it belongs to you now so do whatever you want with it. Talking AI software has been installed so you can pester it with further queries.

You will find the documentation regarding your first three test results. I am sure that you will find them most interesting and I have highlighted the concerning data for your perusal. Lastly, you will find a non-functional portal gun replica at the bottom of the box. It is time that it was returned to its owner. Please see that it finds him.

- R

PS: I shouldn't even need to tell you this but keep the harmful items out of your Morty's reach. Don't mess around with my terminals. Don't touch the shit on my desk. Do NOT provoke the hive. And try not to do anything stupid until our return."

Rick narrowed his eyes at the last part; he could only imagine what was meant by it but could wager a few educated guesses. There was a three-page pathology report stapled to the note, but he wasn't interested in reading it for now; the box was far more interesting. He stuffed the papers into his top lab-coat pocket and dragged the box the rest of the way across the room so he could tear the lid off and distribute the contents onto the table.

The first thing he pulled out was a first-aid kit and pill bottles filled with over-the-counter remedies – boring. Next he found several small personal-care items, including an ordinary shaving razor, a washcloth and soap - even more boring. More items came out of the box and were dumped on the table after that, including children's cough syrup, a stupid brightly colored sippy cup, and another can of powdered formula.

As Rick determined what to make of the stash he had so far, he quickly concluded that there was no probable reason why the note would lie about having intent to release him. While the care-package contents certainly seemed to back up the claim, he still didn't understand why they would put so much effort into it. With a small shrug of his shoulders, he took a page from Morty's book and upended the whole box onto the floor.

"How was this supposed to keep me entertained?" Rick kicked the mess he had just made, finding nothing other than more clothing and the items mentioned in the note.

He bent down to retrieve the handheld computer device from the pile, then clipped the RFID band onto his left wrist; it was easy enough to cover with the cuff of his shirt sleeve. "Come on, Morty, let's get out of here. We have nothing better to do and I'm bored." He paused in thought. "O-on second thought, where's my whiskey?"

Morty completely ignored his grandfather as he leaped into the pile of clothes and promptly tried to bury himself under them.

"You're getting really predictable over there, buddy." Rick rolled his eyes as he turned away to search for the bottle he had been given earlier; he never liked to be anywhere without alcohol for too long and he was already sinking into a sour mood. "Is this going to become a regular thing with you? Does doing the opposite of what Grandpa says make you happy?"

Morty emerged from the pile with his toy portal gun in one hand, a hip flask in the other. He immediately lobbed both items across the room and clumsily tumbled backwards onto the clothes with a loud giggle.

Rick's attention was attracted by the loud clattering noise and he was amused; Morty had done a better job at searching through the remainder of the stuff than he had. "Hey, nice find there. Not so useless anymore, are you?" He stuffed the handheld computer into his pocket and moved back over to pick him up. "Nah. You're still a piece of shit."


"Hurry up, Morty!" Rick's instruction was highly impatient. Now that his mind was no longer occupied with self-preservation, curiosity had taken over and all he wanted to do was learn more about the ship; it had been eating at his mind since arriving. At the very least he figured it would be worthwhile to educate himself on the layout just in case he needed to make a run for it.

As he lead the way through the labyrinth of honeycomb-shaped corridors, he knew that his pace was obviously too fast for the little boy because he had to keep slowing down or stopping to allow him to catch up. At first Rick had carried him along, but Morty had insisted on walking and the only reason he had obliged him was because it kept him quiet.

"Goddamnit, kiddo... why do you have to be so difficult?" Rick growled at him. He really didn't mean to sound so harsh, but he had already slipped into a foul mood and not even the fact he had a new hip flask full of alcohol was enough to pick him back up.

Morty could sense his grandfather's ire and cautiously crept up behind him, his little hands finding the tails of his lab coat. He tugged at the fabric and gave him a pathetic whimper; he didn't understand.

Rick sighed, and it was enough of a reminder to keep his temper in check. "Fine, just..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, giving himself a moment to calm down. "I want to know where I am as much as you do. Try to keep up, OK?" He pried the lab coat out of the little boy's fingers and kept going.

Although he wasn't quite sure which direction to take, the handheld computer kept him informed by displaying map information. If it weren't apparent that the ship was in a state of disrepair before, it certainly was now - some of the patch-up jobs covered particularly grievous wounds. He discovered an entire section that detoured into what was little more than a chewed-out tunnel of solidified wax and decided it was best avoided.

"Computer, uh..." Rick wasn't sure what to call it, but figured that now was as good as any time to test its capabilities. "What are the most commonly visited areas of this dump? I'm not familiar with the surroundings and need a quick rundown. Gimme somewhere to go."

"Working," the computer screen went black before displaying a selection of green-hued maps. "The most frequently trafficked areas are: Barracks. Classified. Recreational lounge. Library. Zero gravity chamber. Chemical analysis lab. Electronics lab."

"All of those sound interesting," Rick lied, deciding to plow straight into what he had wanted to know in the first place. "Now give me the least-visited areas of the ship. I wanna know why it's so run down."

"That is beyond your current level of authorization." The computer's emotionless voice replied. "Classified."

"What do you mean 'classified'?!" Rick thumped the side of the device, his anger rising. "Just give me a map of the whole thing, I'll go digging myself!"

As the new display shimmered across the screen, Rick was smug; the computer AI was dumb and he was confident that he'd get his answer one way or another. He raised an eyebrow as the new map appeared, and then he noticed that the overall shape of the vessel was very phallic in design. "Well then, I guess they weren't kidding... it really does look like a green boner. Somebody's overcompensating."

He shrugged it off and continued traveling in silence.

Using only the map as a guide, Rick pushed deeper into the bowels of the ship. When Morty became fed up of walking, he was only too glad to pick him up and carry him. He traversed through airlock doors and the cleaner atmosphere made way for dank, musty corridors and disgustingly humid passageways, illuminated only by the light of the bioluminescent wax repairs.

It was then that Rick had a sense of uneasiness come over him; whatever had hit this place, it had taken it hard. Although he had looted derelict ships in the past, this one was particularly bad, even in his experiences.

He still couldn't draw much of a conclusion from his observations and kept going.

The further in he went, the worse it became. He started to encounter warped metal and large blast areas that had been hastily sealed off. When he discovered live wires and exposed circuitry sparking in damaged hunks of wall paneling, he wondered how anything was still able to function on the ship at all.

After going in even further, the persistent acrid odors in the air became more offensive and it was getting difficult to breathe. When he felt his chest constricting, he knew that he'd traveled in too far and that it was time to start backtracking. He opted to take another way back only because it offered different scenery to the way he had come in.

The return trip and new pathway painted a much more dire picture; Rick found what appeared to be heavy, black burn marks and old blood-stain spatters up the walls. He stepped over the charred remains of something he couldn't recognize, though it had clearly been alive at some point and it was easily as big as he was. It wasn't related to any of the species he had seen on board thus far.

"What the hell happened here...?" The scientist stuffed the handheld computer back into his pocket so he could run a hand along the black, ashen deposit on the walls, trying to discern what it was, thought it didn't take him long to work it out; the texture and feel was completely unmistakable.

"Carbonized plasma..." He muttered his observation aloud to himself as he dusted his hand off on his pants. "Fucking great. There was a firefight here, Morty. Somehow, I don't think the original ship owners got themselves blown up."

Morty wasn't paying attention; he made a loud whimper of protest and his eyes were glued to the other shapes in the corridor.

They were no longer alone.

"Hmm?" Rick was confused by Morty's alarm cry, at least until he saw them, too; the shadowy shapes of three very-large, bee-like insects silently prowled into the same corridor space and stood before them, blocking the way.

"What the fuck do YOU want!?" Rick hissed. Despite his apprehension, he was still intrigued to know why were they behaving that way.

The first of the insects moved in, pushing the scientist backwards with the smooth flats of its giant scythe claws. The second soon joined in, and then all three were moving as if driven by one mind. There was no aggression in the gesture at all, but they seemed very eager to push him out of their territory.

Rick didn't need any encouragement; they were too big to fight and it probably wasn't safe with Morty around. He simply turned on his heels and retreated. The encounter felt like a giant cover-up, and the whole ship was now a giant puzzle that needed solving.

It annoyed him.


He had initially decided to head for one of the less-hazardous areas of the ship that the handheld computer had told him about and he supposed that was the real reason he had been given the RFID wristband.

Trying to circumvent the system had been worth a shot, though.

Rick narrowed his eyes in suspicion at what he was hearing as he made his way towards the electronics lab; the unmistakable 'melody' of heavy metal music echoed through the hallways. He didn't know if it was bait or just one of the Ricks being himself; either way, it was the same kind of thing he would listen to if he were working. He closed the map on his handheld computer and decided to detour towards the source of the noise.

As he navigated his way through the corridors, he was sure not to move too quickly so the little boy on his heels could keep up. Before too long, the scientist's journey lead the pair through a large set of open hydraulic blast doors and into a massive elongated room filled with more computers than he had seen in a long time. The only light source came from the monitors and the emergency strips along the floor, casting the larger space in a dull glow of whites and reds.

Despite this, it was still easy enough to see. Rick was able to observe three long columns of tables that were seemingly deserted as they snaked off into the darkness. There were easily over a hundred terminals in each row, their screens either displaying different information or switched off entirely.

"Wow..." Rick was vaguely impressed as he paced up the first aisle on the left, his attention on a solitary pink crystal that was poking out the top of a nearby screen. "Someone's gonna run up a huge power bill. Isn't that right, Morty?" He casually ripped it off and stuck it in his pocket; so much for not messing around with the terminals.

Morty made a short, responsive sound somewhere between curiosity and interest. He stopped at the first table and promptly yanked a keyboard cord, pulling it off the desk.

"Nice one, Morty." Rick turned around to shoot a glare down at him. "We haven't even been here ten seconds and you're already trying to break their shit... c-can you not?"

Morty picked up one of the keys that had fallen off the keyboard in the fall and threw it across the floor, giggling at the sound it made as it skittered into the darkness.

"Yeah yeah, I-I..." Rick wanted to snap, but quickly contained himself; it was such a minor thing to be upset over and he decided that it wasn't worth it. "Whatever, buddy. Do what you want, just try not to eat anything, huh?" He picked up the keyboard and tossed it back onto the desk, deciding to leave his grandson to his own devices as he continued on his way.

The music took him across to the far side of the room. In the furthest corner he found Surgeon Rick slumped over at his workstation and his head down on the desk, a stereo blaring next to his left and a centrifuge appliance whirring away at his right. Rick moved up to stand behind the other man's chair, immediately making note of the fact that he was dead to reality and snoring his head off. He obviously hadn't been there very long either, as the centrifuge still had six minutes left on the clock.

"Hey," Rick lightly poked him in the shoulder, wanting to ask him about the ship. "Wake up."

No response.

Rick made another attempt, this time much harder. "Wake up, dipshit. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Go away..." The other Rick groaned as he raised an arm up to swat the air beside him, trying to brush off the source of the disturbance. "Leave me alone, still got more time..."

Off in the distance, there was a loud crash and a plastic clatter as more things were pulled off the tables.

Surgeon Rick had to sit up at that one. He rubbed at his eyes as he tried to wake himself up, his attention in the direction of the sound. "You OK back there?" He called out.

"Eeee!" Morty's loud, joyful reply came back from the other end of the room.

"Good..." Surgeon Rick yawned, not in the least bit concerned by the fact his workplace was being destroyed. "Oh hey, it's you guys. So you decided to escape again, huh? How'd you figure out the door code? N-not that I care, because if you worked it out, then you earned it as far as I'm concerned." He took a moment to stretch his arms out in front of himself. "Good for you, bro."

"It was unlocked." Rick shrugged, seeing no reason to lie. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing that a dumb intern couldn't do on their lunch break..." Surgeon Rick yawned again, seeming to be having trouble with waking up properly. "Blood fractionation, yo." He rapped on the lid of the centrifuge with an index finger. "Glass tubes are going around and around in circles, just like my life. I got back early, if you can call it that, and decided to catch up on some shit."

Rick raised an eyebrow as he stepped back from the chair, but then quickly decided he didn't care. "What is this place?"

Surgeon Rick sat up properly and swiveled around, his attention on the other in a sleepy, yet confused stare. "You sure you didn't break out? If your door was unlocked, then the boss would have given you a data thingy. Just ask it where you are." He reached over to shut off the stereo and the massive room was suddenly much quieter, sans for the humming army of computer fans. "Of course, it would have also told you that you're not really supposed to be here. I'd tell you to leave but I've kinda lost the ability to give a shit." He casually shrugged. "So, we've already established why I'm supposed to be here... what's your excuse? W-what ARE you doing here?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't really know. I heard the badass music and came over to investigate." Rick shrugged again as he pulled up a chair to sit down. "I guess I'm still trying to get my bearings... if you were hunted down and dragged somewhere against your will, wouldn't you want to find out more about it?"

Instead of answering, Surgeon Rick turned towards his computer and began flicking through the profile data he had been compiling before he had fallen asleep. "How's that workin' out for you?"

"Not well enough. I'm still trying to work out what the fuck is going on around here. What the hell happened to this ship anyway?" Rick sounded highly frustrated as he began to explain. "Everything's broken, the atmosphere is tainted, a-and when I left to go exploring, the stupid insects basically told me to piss off."

"Yeah, they'll do that." Surgeon Rick did not look up. "To tell you the truth, I don't know what happened either. I didn't get here until everything was already fucked. All I can really tell you is that there was an explosion and that all the original inhabitants of the ship are dead. You'd have to ask the ship's physician what happened, 'cause he was the sole survivor when all the bad shit went down."

Rick grunted, seeming entirely unsatisfied with the suggestion, deciding that this was the wrong person to have brought it up with.

"Head's up... approach that subject with caution. The guy doesn't really like to talk about it because he didn't come out of it unscathed." Surgeon Rick smirked. "But if you wanna cheer him up, start calling him 'limpy', or 'scarface'. In fact, call him either one of those as often as you can, he really loves it." He opened up one of the files and began adding clinical notes to it.

Rick watched him work, raising an eyebrow as he saw the photos on the screen. "So is that all you do here? Gather information on Ricks and hunt them down?"

"Sure as hell feels like it lately," Surgeon Rick angrily muttered in reply. "Though, there's not much hunting involved. Most of them are already dead, dying, or are going to die by the time we get to them." He opened the biological specimen storage refrigerator underneath his table and pulled out a beer. "You want one?"

"Not really." Rick dismissively waved a hand, then took the hip flask out of his lab-coat pocket to shake it up. "I'm all set. F-for now anyway."

"Suit yourself, bro." Surgeon Rick pulled the cap off the bottle and threw it across the table. "Oh, a word of advice - if you're going back out there, don't go into exam room one for at least the next twelve hours. I have a sealed body-bag cooling down in there, and it's still, uh... wiggling."

Rick visibly flinched when he heard the confession. "What the fuck!? Do I even want to know?"

"Oh, would you relax? It's fine." Surgeon Rick turned to check the timer on the centrifuge. "Just another dead me, same old BS. Rick E-341 ended up becoming a snack. Dumbass practically wrote himself a death sentence by wandering into an alien-parasite nest. Turns out that the stupid things didn't know that humans need internal organs to survive. Talk about being eaten out... holy shit."

Rick needed a moment to push the disturbing mental image out of his head. "Damn. T-that... that's gross."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Try having to look at it." The other Rick took a heavy swig from the beer bottle, then tilted his head back to drain it of its contents. "Don't worry though, he died the way he wanted – completely wasted. Doesn't get any better than that." He added a loud burp to the end of his sentence and set the empty bottle down alongside the growing collection next to his computer screen. "We've had such a string of bad luck lately, so thanks for surviving. Though statistically, I guess we were going to end up with a live one sooner or later."

Rick made an angry sound and didn't reply immediately. "You're welcome. I have no intention of signing off anytime soon."

"You sure about that? Have you read your file lately?" Surgeon Rick made an attempt to smirk at him, though it quickly faded again in the realization of something that had come to mind. "Aw shit, before I forget... how cooperative are you feeling right now?"

Rick was immediately suspicious and folded his arms across his chest. "I already don't like where that question is going."

Surgeon Rick chose his next words carefully. "It's not going anywhere if you don't want it to. I'm all about consent." He was distracted by the beeping timer on the centrifuge and he swiveled around in his chair so he could shut down the device, deciding that it was more important to deal with in the immediate. "There's only one douchebag on board, and it sure as shit ain't me."

"Hrmph..." Rick averted his attention over his shoulder just to dissipate his souring mood, though he was growing concerned that he couldn't hear Morty moving around anymore. "So what do you want from me now?"

"Can I get some of your blood? More of it, I mean... we took a sample of it while you were out. We did what we could, but some of your numbers came back... inconclusive." Surgeon Rick stood up and pulled the lid off the centrifuge, then began to load the test tubes into a rack waiting nearby on the table. "It would be stupid to release you without having all the data."

"What data?" Rick sat up in the chair, returning his attention to the other, glaring hard at his back. "This shit still isn't fitting together and I've been paying close attention. Derelict ship, priority lists, stalker computer terminals? Keeping me captive against my will? What the hell is going on, a-and how do I fit into all of this?"

Surgeon Rick made a soft sigh in response and placed both hands on the table in front of him, visibly sinking in his posture.

"Well?" Rick prompted him. "Just fucking spit it out already. Why am I so important to you? Because this place is the worst. I wanna go home!"

"You can't... none of us can." Surgeon Rick's voice was low and tired. "Look, I'm only gonna tell you this because I'm actually starting to like you, fuck it. And that sucks, because I can't afford to care."

Rick couldn't glare at him any harder.

"I've already told you that this is a salvage operation. We retrieve losers like you every day, but it's not often we actually get a live one. I think you're the third to survive so far? And that's not even a definite, so... whatever, who cares." Surgeon Rick raised his head, motioning to the terminals beside his desk, then across the room. "This is where HQ sends us the retrieval orders, and then we just kinda wing it from there. This room doesn't really have a name, though I suppose somebody like you might call it 'Stalker Central'. Anything you'd ever wanna know about a Rick can be found here if you only know what parameters to enter. All you'd need is the password."

"Oh yeah?" Rick sat up properly in the chair, seeming vaguely interested. "So what is it?"

"Hah! Nice try. You think I'm gonna give you the password just like that?" The question was sharp, though it seemed to pick up his mood a little. "Fuck off!"

Rick let out an exasperated sigh, his gaze returning to the room behind them. Morty still wasn't making any noise back there.

"You wanna find a Rick with a mustache?" The other Rick casually tapped the query into the computer and pointed at the screen as the resulting profiles scrolled across it. "Here's twenty of the fuckers. You wanna find a drug cartel Rick? I can find you at least nine. You wanna find a sad sorry excuse of a Rick who's been awake too long wasting his time? Don't even need to run a search query for that, b-because it's me." He pointed to himself and grinned. "These terminals and the technology behind the system are probably the only interesting things in this room. Well... apart from us."

Rick was no longer paying attention. He moved off the chair and disappeared down the line of terminals into the darkness.

Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow at him and sat back down at his table. "Ugh, whatever, dude. I answered your question, what more do you want from me?" He grumbled aloud as he picked up a pen and a stack of labels for the test-tube rack in front of him and resumed working.

The quiet hum of computer terminals was suddenly drowned out by loud wailing.

"What are you even doing over here, Morty? You know how shifty it is when you sneak around in the dark?!"

Another loud cry was accompanied by the sounds of more computer peripherals clattering across the floor.

"Stop touching that!"

Surgeon Rick shook his head and softly chuckled to himself as he applied labels onto the test-tube stems. "Is everything OK back there?"

"Yeah." Rick called back to him as he retrieved his still screaming grandson from under the table he had been hiding under and made his way back across the room. "Somebody broke more of your shit."

"He's being a kid, dude." Surgeon Rick shrugged as he placed the rack into the fridge below his desk. "And who can blame him? This place is fucking boring." He retrieved six more, empty, blood-collection tubes from the top drawer of his desk and popped them into the chest pocket of his scrubs. "Still feeling cooperative?"

Rick deposited Morty onto the floor beside him and sat back down in the chair he had selected earlier. "I-if it will shut you up, then go ahead." His voice was abrasive as he firmly pointed to the space on the floor beside him. "Morty, don't move. Stay here where I can see you... don't you remember any of those rules I set out for you?"

Morty obediently sat on his rear, though his high-pitched whining made it very clear that he didn't want to be there.

Surgeon Rick raised both eyebrows. "Seriously? You're actually consenting?" He retrieved a tourniquet from the clutter on his desk and gave it an experimental snap to test if it were still in good working order. "You're not bullshitting me?"

"No," Rick growled as he rolled up his left sleeve. "Just get it over with before I change my mind."

"Huh..." Surgeon Rick hesitated, needing another moment before he was convinced that the observed behavior was genuine. When he decided that it was, he moved in to snap the tourniquet in place around the scientist's upper arm and pulled it taut. He moved back to his table to prepare everything else he needed for the procedure ahead.

"Still seems like a giant fucking waste to invest so much time in my well-being," Rick resumed grumbling at him. "You want me alive so you can pick my brains for information on the Feds, right? There has to be others you can look up for this."

"There isn't another Rick quite like you at the moment." Surgeon Rick's casual reply came as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves. "And don't blame me for this one. Your retrieval orders came from much higher up than us. I'm just doing my job." He clicked a hypodermic needle into the plastic hub he had waiting for it and made his way back over to the other. "Head's up, this is gonna sting." He stuck the needle into a viable vein and released the tourniquet. After that was done, he clicked the first of the collection tubes into the hub.

"Just doing your job, huh?" Rick hissed in discomfort; being poked with needles had never been something he found favorable. "How can you stand being ordered around? Why do you let the other guy treat you like shit? If it were me, I'd punch him in the face and never look back."

Surgeon Rick did not reply and simply loaded the next vacuum tube into the hub when the first had filled up.

"Well?" Rick scowled up at him. "Why would you even bother listening to somebody like that? Doesn't seem like something I would do at all."

"Phh... he's just abrasive, like you. Things used to be a lot better, but..." Surgeon Rick's voice was suddenly quiet. "If you're going to be spending your time around more Ricks in the future, you'll see a lot of things that you won't agree with. Ricks are more than the sum of their genes. There's environmental influences, learned behavior, and let's not even mention the weird shit they do to make themselves stand out. Don't let it distract you." He popped the third tube into position. "All you need to know is that I get paid to be pushed around and told what to do. If that doesn't sound like something you'd do, then just remember I'm not you."

"That... really didn't answer anything."

"It kinda does, bro. Look, do yourself a huge favor and stop thinking you're me, or any other Rick for that matter." Surgeon Rick lightly tapped him on the shoulder, though his attention was still on drawing blood. "Because Ricks like you have me questioning why the fuck I went to medical school instead of taking your pathway when I really shouldn't be caring. Lemme tell you from experience, if you spend your time trying to work out another Rick's motivations, it may end up consuming you. There are as many variables as there are Ricks. Remind yourself that they're not you and don't think about it."

Rick was deep in thought; the last part had sounded just like something he would say.

"Hey, uh..." Surgeon Rick's tone turned hesitant and awkward. "While we're on the subject of Ricks, I need to be honest with you, because I don't want it to be a shock when it comes up. Some words are going to be thrown around soon enough, and you're not going to like them." He pulled out the third tube and clicked the fourth into the hub. "Words like 'bartering', 'value', and 'price'. This is our job and we've made no secret of that since the beginning, but HQ wants you alive and we wanna get paid, yo."

Rick glared down at the floor and began to run his free hand through his hair, flattening the already flopped-over spikes on top of his head as he tried to process the new information. "You're... you're gonna sell me?"

"Fuck no! See, that's what I mean." Surgeon Rick quickly shook his head. "You're not a slave or a commodity, but it's sure as hell going to sound that way once we start negotiating your value. That dead brother in the body bag? Only worth a few hundred credits. HQ considered you a difficult job and actually getting you there alive is gonna be like winning the lottery."

Rick's attention was back on his grandson and he didn't like the next thought that came into his head; he had to ask anyway. "Are you going to sell Morty, too?"

"Ugh, would you stop? We're getting paid to fix you up and for your continued survival, that's it. We're not selling your freedom out from under you." Despite the deep irritation in his voice, Surgeon Rick kept his focus where it needed to be. "Mortys are worth about 4.1 million credits in today's market, but that's because it's so damn difficult to get one right now. You can't just steal a well-adjusted Morty from his own family either, that's cruel. Ricks are assholes, but they're not barbarians. Who would steal somebody's baby?" He popped the fifth collection tube into the hub. "Think about it this way... how many people would you kill if somebody stole your Morty? It's not worth the risk."

"Hah," Rick bared his teeth in a dangerous grin. "You got that right."

"Yeah, see? Stop worrying, bro. He's yours, and nobody's taking him from you. You've fuckin' earned him by this point." Surgeon Rick turned his head away to yawn. "Holy shit, I can't do this much longer..."

Rick was quiet when the last blood collection tube was slotted in place. Although his situation was starting to make a bit more sense, a huge part of him wanted to break into the computer terminals and start reading. Despite the fact that the note had specifically instructed him not to touch them, their mere presence was taunting him, tantalizing him with the thought of what could possibly be stored on their hard drives.

He'd never been one for following the rules anyway.

"And we're done. Fuck yeah!" Surgeon Rick carefully extracted the hypodermic needle and clamped his thumb over the bleeding site. "I'm sure you know this, but don't do any heavy lifting. And if you gotta masturbate, then use your other arm." He stood over the other, a ridiculously happy grin on his face.

Rick gave him a look of sheer disgust and shoved him away. "Why would I do that!?" He used the thumb of his free hand to clamp down on the affected area himself.

Surgeon Rick broke into a fit of gravelly laughter as he carried the collection tubes back to his workstation so he could begin labeling them. "Worth it." He discarded his set of gloves into the trash and began to snicker all over again.

"You're disgusting!" Rick's left eyebrow twitched as he gave the other a harsh glare. "There's cameras in my room, I-I... I'm not giving you a show!"

"There's none in the bathroom, so you can do pretty much anything you want in there." Surgeon Rick completely ignored his tone. He sat down in the chair and stared at the computer screen in front of him for only a moment. "Aw, shit yeah, motherfucker! New shipment just came in!" He hastily stuffed the collection tubes into the refrigerator under his table and enthusiastically sprang back onto his feet. "Can you do me a huge solid, bro? I need you to hide something for me."

Rick snorted in disgust, still very much riled up. "Unbelievable... you insult me and now you expect my help? Fuck you!"

Surgeon Rick ignored his anger a second time, his voice becoming hopeful. "You're going wandering around the ship later, yeah? Can you hide some coffee cans for me? They belong to the boss, but he's been such a huge asshole lately that he doesn't deserve nice things."

Rick couldn't see any reason why he would be asking him, but the thought of inconveniencing somebody who had caused him grief was appealing. "Fine..."

"Aw yeah, you're the best!" Surgeon Rick sounded way too happy as he gave the scientist two thumbs up. "Well, I'm officially done for the night. You wanna go watch some TV or something? I need time to wind down and I've got pizza on that shipment. You're starving yourself to death and I'm getting fat, so between us, I think we average out."

"You know what?" Rick rubbed at the site of the needlestick injury, seeming content that it had finally stopped bleeding. "Why the fuck not? It's not like I'm doing anything else right now." He pulled his sleeves down again and leaned over the chair to poke Morty on top of his head. "I can't believe you actually sat there so long. Y-you're a good kid, Morty."

"Oh, one last thing. I'm not really able to stop anyone being in here once I leave, so I suppose it might be worthwhile mentioning, uh... something." Surgeon Rick turned to motion towards the wider space in the room, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. "If somebody were to wonder how to access all these terminals, not that anyone ever has because we already know, then all they would need to do is start inputting names."

Rick raised an eyebrow, utterly confused at what he was hearing; he couldn't see any conceivable reason why the other would be telling him this so readily. Either he truly didn't care, or he was being really stupid.

"I'll give you a hint... it rhymes with 'ortimer'. Now go away, because I'm not gonna tell you the password. You're never getting it out of me." Surgeon Rick pumped his fists in the air. "Now stop thinking about it. Let's go watch some TV!" His enthusiasm was immediately cut short and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Holy shit. No judgments here bro, but... what's that smell?"

"Take one wild guess," Rick glared down at Morty, "I think we need to make a detour."


"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Shit yeah, bro. Last time I hid all the toilet paper, and the time before that I replaced all the soap and shampoo in the showers with medical-grade lubricant. As funny as those were, it was too obvious... this one's gonna be way more subtle."

"So," there was a hesitant pause. "Where do you want me to put them?"

"Hide them or dispose of them, don't care. Just make sure you don't flush them down the toilet, because I did that once and it was a bad move. Let's just say it clogged up the water-recycling system and leave it at that." The reply came with a short burst of gruff laughter. "Just... no."

If anyone had told Rick that his future would involve conspiring with one of the very same dimensional versions of himself who had contributed to his imprisonment a mere 24 hours earlier, he would have called them utterly crazy. Yet here he was, following him with a load of coffee cans and a very happy grandson trailing in his wake. He wasn't even really certain why he was doing this either; perhaps it was to humor the other Rick because he hated his boss so much, or perhaps it was just because he wanted to see what would happen.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Surgeon Rick knew where he was going without the need of a navigational aid. He easily balanced a stack of shipping crates as well as four pizza boxes in his arms as he lead the way into the barracks area of the ship. "It's up here," he said in his far-too-happy tone. "Try not to get too envious of my crash space, but it's pretty badass if I do say so myself. If you decide to stay on after being released, you can negotiate your own room with the boss. He'd be happy to have you aboard; it gets pretty quiet around here with just the two of us."

"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves..." Rick flattened his brows, completely unimpressed; He hadn't even considered anything like it and wasn't sure what to make of the offer.

"You don't wanna stay? Why not?" Surgeon Rick stopped and turned back to face him, not making any effort to hide his disappointment. "Free accommodation, free food, and an entire shipload of free shit? We're certainly not going to touch most of it; we're a different breed to you. If it were me, I'd abuse the hell out of that kind of opportunity."

"I'm not you," Rick reminded him, "and I never will be."

Surgeon Rick turned and continued on his way, thoroughly soured by what he was hearing. "Whatever..." His mood hadn't improved by the time they made it to his personal quarters and he huffily dropped the boxes at his feet. "Do whatever you want, bro. I don't care." He punched in the code to open the door.

Rick was conflicted; he knew he should be bitter with this person, but part of him didn't want him to remain in such a negative state. "I didn't mean it like that," he offered, though he didn't sound entirely convinced of his own words, "I guess I just haven't really thought about it." At least the last part was true.

The attempt to placate the other male seemed to work, because the reply was far less grumpy than before. "Yeah, I hear you, bro." Surgeon Rick picked up the pizza boxes and stepped into the room, quickly adding, "Still figuring it out? Welcome to the club." He tossed them straight onto the coffee table inside.

Rick was about to say something else as he hesitated in the doorway, but he was distracted by the happy youngster that scooted around his legs and ran in ahead of him. "Ugh, here we go again..."

"He's fine, Rick. I just wish my Morty was that interesting." Surgeon Rick grinned back at him, seeming to have forgotten all about the earlier exchange. "Well? Are you coming in or are you gonna stand out there like a dumbass?" He promptly flopped down onto the couch and turned on the TV.

"Fine..." Rick dumped the coffee cans outside and stepped over the threshold of the door.

Surgeon Rick's living space wasn't much larger than the one-room setup that Rick had been stuck in, or perhaps it just seemed that way because the majority of the floor space was occupied by a large L-shaped couch and a coffee table. The one-tier bunk bed was still the same, recessed into the wall with its own window view into space, but it looked like it didn't get much use judging by the fact it was littered with empty liquor bottles and soda cans. Rick's attention was soon drawn to the walls, which were covered with gaudy movie posters in all places except for the spot where the TV was affixed, while the far side was covered floor-to-ceiling in photos, all of them of this Rick's immediate family.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the last observation as he sat on the far end of the couch.

Surgeon Rick observed the standoffish behavior but chose to let it slide. He opened the first pizza box and tossed one of the slices at Morty's feet, stuffing another straight into his mouth. "This is my house so make yourselves at home." He said whilst still chewing with his mouth full. "The nightstand is a bar fridge, go raid it. Mi casa es su casa, dawg."

"You're disgusting..." Rick grumbled. "Don't encourage him to eat things off the floor!"

"Hey, it's good for his immunity." Surgeon Rick bit another chunk out of the pizza slice and began to rapidly flick through the TV channels with the remote. "Don't tell me you've never done it. Five-second rule, am I right?" He stopped on a channel and nodded towards the screen. "You like watching people fall down the stairs? Here's a whole show about it."

"Why would you even watch this shit?" Rick took out his flask and chugged from it; he still wasn't certain why he had come along, but everything was better tolerated with a tipsy edge.

"Because it lets me turn my brain off." Surgeon Rick's attention was already glued to the TV screen. "Plus it makes me feel superior, a-and it reminds me that no matter what happens, I will never be that stupid." He loudly cheered at the imagery of three people tumbling down an entire flight of stairs in a shopping cart. "Oho, yeah! Suck it, douchebags!"

Rick rolled his eyes in disgust and decided it was better to remain silent as he picked up two slices of pizza. Although he was hungry, he already had half a mind to just leave.

The rest of the TV program was watched in relative silence, save for Surgeon Rick's occasional outbursts of raucous laughter. At some point along the way, Morty climbed onto the couch and pried the slice of half-eaten pizza slice out of his grandfather's hands. Rick simply let him and started on another.

As the credits began scrolling, Surgeon Rick decided he was done and tossed the remote in Rick's direction. "I gotta take a shower, so keep surfing until you find something halfway decent. Infinite channels, infinite possibilities." He got to his feet and maddeningly mashed the array of buttons on his handheld computer as he slipped into the bathroom.

Now would have been the perfect time to leave, but Rick's curiosity was already taunting him again. Part of him wanted to get a better look at the photos on the wall, but he already knew that nothing good would come of it. His brows were set in a deep scowl at his own mind as he flicked through more TV channels and started watching whatever came up in an attempt to distract himself.

It wasn't working.

"Damn it..." He hissed in frustration. Sometimes his mind was his own worst enemy and no matter how much power of will he could muster, he just couldn't shut it up. Not even another hefty pull from the hip flask helped.

With a sigh of resignation, Rick was on his feet and heading towards the wall; surely one look wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like he was being held there against his will. He could leave whenever he wanted to.

What he was met with was practically a whole life in rough chronological order. Photographs of a young blonde-haired girl he recognized all too well made up the majority of the far left side, along with pictures of a much younger Rick doing all kinds of bonding activities with her, including eating ice-cream at the beach, pony rides, and pulling crazy facial expressions at the camera lens. One of the photos depicted Beth, who couldn't have been older than five, wearing her father's ridiculous white surgical cap, which was far too big for her. As his eyes moved further along the wall, Beth got older but the other Rick remained a steady fixture in the photos and he concluded that they must have been very close.

There was that nagging guilt again.

"You must like torturing yourself, huh?"

"What the fuck!?" Rick was startled by the sudden statement and turned to face the other, only to be met with his dimensional double's bare chest, still damp from the shower. "Oh geez, why are you naked!?" He quickly averted his eyes back to the wall.

"Because it's hard to wash yourself with clothes on? Duh." Surgeon Rick answered simply. "What's wrong with being naked? It's natural. It's not like I'm gonna start waving my junk around or anything," he paused, a predatory grin growing across his face, "unless you want me to, of course."

"No!" Rick growled, keeping his focus glued to one of the photos. "P-put some pants on, damn it! You know Morty is in the room too, right? Why would you expose yourself to a little kid like that? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"He's too young to care, trust me." Surgeon Rick laughed at his discomfort. "You have some of the worst hang ups I've ever seen. I mean, really... a-are you just being modest, or are you legitimately ashamed of your own body? I've never met another Rick who's even remotely like that. Did something happen to you?" His grin faded as he realized the question might actually be true. "Oh, shit... do you wanna talk about it?"

"Pants!" It was practically an order. "Now!"

"Sheesh, whatever..." Surgeon Rick shrugged as he moved away to pull a set of sleeping attire out of his bedside table and began to get dressed. "Stop being such a baby."

Rick risked a glance back in the direction of the other, only to turn away when he caught a glimpse of bare ass. "Ugh..." He finally decided to turn around again when he figured enough time had passed. "Wow," he snorted at what the other Rick had chosen to wear. "Nice clothes, dipshit."

"What's wrong with them?" Surgeon Rick seemed confused as he adjusted the collar of his nightshirt; as far as he was concerned, his space-print flannel pajamas were perfectly fine. "They were a thoughtful gift and they're comfortable, so fuck what you think."

Rick knew he should be furious, but there had been no hostility in the words. He quickly concluded that the other Rick was just used to talking like that and let it pass.

"You sure this doesn't bother you?" Surgeon Rick indicated towards the wall with a pointed thumb. "I should have taken them down before inviting you in here. My bad."

"No, it's fine," Rick lied, dismissing it with a wave of his hand, "I just don't get why you put them there."

"Remember what I told you about variables?" Surgeon Rick reached over to pull one of the photos off the wall, his expression hardening as he looked it over. "Every time a critical decision or action occurs, a new universe is born to travel the road not taken. This one is mine." He turned his head to glance back at Morty. "Have you decided what you're going to do with him yet?"

Rick's eyes widened ever so slightly; the question had come out of nowhere and it felt like a punch straight to the gut. "W-what do you mean?" He already didn't like where the conversation was headed.

"Don't be a dumbass, Rick. Let's just say I've been there and I know how you think. You can't possibly have decided that you're going to keep him just yet." Surgeon Rick took the photo with him as he sank back down on the couch. "If you're thinking about raising him, then fuckin' go for it. Take it from me when I say it's totally doable, but... be aware of the fact that it'll change you, and you might not like what you become. Also, don't let him get too cocky... there are so many open variables that HQ has already predicted that in some cases, the Morty becomes the Rick."

Rick stuffed his hands in his pockets and lowered his head; it was as if he were reading the worst parts of his mind that he himself had been avoiding. He made a soft grunt in protest, wanting the whole thing to just stop.

"Relax, brother. I'm not gonna judge." Surgeon Rick patted the cushion next to him in a blatant attempt to invite him over. "If you decide you wanna get rid of him, lemme know because there's at least fifty other Ricks waiting on a replacement Morty right now. One day it'll be the other way around, but..." He shrugged.

Rick reluctantly returned to the couch, but kept enough distance between him and the other so he couldn't do anything weird; he wasn't sure if this Rick could be trusted just yet.

Surgeon Rick was quiet for a short time, seeming to be fighting with himself. "...I'm gonna tell you something," he paused, "and you're not gonna give me shit for it. Deal?"

Rick raised an eyebrow, but anything was better than the current subject if it was going to turn the focus away from him. "Fine."

"Hmm." The other Rick hummed for a moment as he pondered how best to begin. "You've already seen the photos on the wall. You're not stupid... y-you can work it out. In any case, the universe put me in a similar situation to the one you're finding yourself in. Maybe not as dramatically, but..."

Rick uttered an audible grunt of disapproval.

Surgeon Rick ignored him. "'Lizabeth's mother died giving birth to her and I was left with the fallout. Whether or not that was a bad thing, I don't know," he yawned, finding himself sleepy again, "but I didn't get the time to hate the woman as savagely as you did."

The mere thought of his ex-wife caused Rick to launch into a furious tirade. "Creativity-stifling, sex-denying, manipulative, high-maintenance, hormonal, backstabbing, cheating, motherfucking bitch!"

"Whoa, holy shit! Repressed rage much there, bro?" Surgeon Rick didn't know whether to laugh or make fun of him. "Case in point, judging by how crazy Ricks get about it, I think I kinda dodged the bullet on that one."

"You better believe it..." Rick stated sharply as he folded his arms.

Surgeon Rick started to chuckle, not being able to help himself; watching the alternate version of himself getting so worked up was just too funny to watch. "Settle down over there." His attention was back on the TV as he continued on with his story. "When my own surgical team gave me the papers and the option to get rid of her, I didn't know what to do. Sound familiar?"

Rick was completely silent, his posture stiffening; so much for turning the conversation away from him.

"Adoption was still pretty rife in the 80s. Society doesn't look favorably on single parents, even less so when you're the father. Very planetary mindset... fuck Earth, honestly." He picked up the remote and resumed flicking through channels, but it was just something to keep his hands occupied with. "Like you, I was faced with the dilemma of how not to screw it up, but that's self-deprecation talking. It's much easier to look at the other side of the equation: why the fuck not?"

Rick's attention was on the door now; the desire to leave had returned with a vengeance.

Surgeon Rick made note of his body language but continued in spite of it. "Look bro, when I told you it's doable, I totally meant it. I did it, I'm still doing it, and I don't know how the hell I managed it. But you know what? Best years of my life. That kid is great... she was really great." Despite the positive statement, he wasn't grinning at all. "For the longest time it was just me and Lizabeth running around in Rick and Lizabeth time. But like everything in the universe, it came with an expiration date."

"Of course it does..." Rick wondered if the other knew the true depth of those words. Then again, maybe he did. Although he still very much wanted to get out of there, there was obviously more to this. "So what happened?"

"Ugh! She's become a self-centered, egotistical bitch... I didn't teach her that!" Surgeon Rick flew into a rage and hurled the remote straight at the TV. "Fuck her!" He immediately regretted it and got up so he could retrieve the device from the floor. "Any time she calls me these days, it's to ask for money, and she heavily supervises me when I'm around the grandkids because she thinks I'm a drug addict," he coughed awkwardly, quickly adding, "which is a lie."

Rick didn't care.

Surgeon Rick stumbled over to his bar fridge and retrieved a chilled bottle of vodka from it. "So I guess you're probably wondering, what's the point? Why in the fuck would a random stranger Rick even bother telling you this shit?" He returned to the couch and sprawled across the other side. "It's because you aren't encumbered with the same bullshit as I am. You can take that Morty and go anywhere you want. Fuck your self-doubt, fuck what anyone else thinks. You're Rick fucking Sanchez, a-and nobody can tell you what to do." He opened the bottle and freely drank from it, suddenly much more interested in watching TV.

Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "W-was that meant to be a pep talk?"

"I was just trying to relate to you, bro." Surgeon Rick took another long belt from the bottle. "If you're gonna give me shit about it, then you know where the door is."

Rick's left eyebrow twitched and he needed a moment to keep himself calm. He sat quietly and kept his gaze in the direction of the TV as he tried to process the information he'd just been given; none of this Rick's motivations and behaviors were making any logical sense to him. If he was trying to be friendly, he was doing a terrible job of it, though Rick knew he wasn't much better in that aspect.

There was still one nagging element that didn't make sense.

"There's an awesome show coming up after this one. It's like MacGyver, but everyone is a meringue. It's like... a-a planet where everything evolved into desserts." By the way Surgeon Rick slurred his words, it was apparent that he was already becoming very inebriated. "Y-you wanna watch it?"

"I don't get it," Rick silently cursed the core of his curiosity, but the first part of the question was already out. "Is that why you're here? You're avoiding your family?"

Surgeon Rick made a noise somewhere between disgust and disappointment. "Fuck, bro... w-why you gotta ask me that?"

"Humor me?" Rick probed him.

"Ugh. You're very persistent... a-and kind of a dick." Surgeon Rick loudly burped as he set the bottle aside and sat back up. "First of all, yeah. Secondly, I haven't done anything noteworthy like you, and HQ will never see me as anything more than a silver piece of shit they can shove around. I need to do something with myself... purpose and all that," he made a sharp angry sound as he continued, "a-and before you go spouting off about idealistic bullshit and infinite realities where nothing you do matters, consider the fact that hauling your ass in here made a difference to you, didn't it?"

Rick twisted his brow into a thoughtful expression.

"S-sometimes I wonder if HQ only picked us up because they need suckers to patch up their mistakes..." He made another tired yawn as he settled back down onto the couch cushions. "Fuckin' likely..."

And just like that, this Rick's motives finally made sense to him; nothing he had ever done to him thus far had been with malicious intentions. He was just following orders and seemed to tolerate taking them because he believed himself to be mediocre. He didn't need to be left wondering if there were better versions of himself out there, either; he already had access to a whole multiverse proving it to be true.

Maybe he harbored as much self-loathing as Rick did for himself.

The more he thought about their differences, the more he wanted to smack some sense into this particular version of himself; he needed to be lectured in standing his ground more often and to stop being such a mindless sheep. It wasn't even his problem to deal with and it still managed to frustrate him.

When Rick heard his dimensional counterpart making soft snoring noises, he took it as his cue to leave. After turning the TV off and throwing a blanket over him, he retrieved Morty from behind the couch, who had been busy pulling the stickers off a puzzle cube he had found on the floor.

After turning off the overhead light, he slipped out of the room. As he paced back down the corridor with his grandson in one arm and stolen coffee cans in the other, his mind was already going crazy processing everything he had just been told; if the talk had been an attempt to help him, it was a bad one.

Because it had not helped at all.

"You wanna know something, Morty?" Rick's expression hardened, his tone resolute and firm. "If anyone decides what to do with you... it's gonna be me."