Let The Ricks Fall Where They May

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

Disclaimers + Copyrights: Rick and Morty is not something I own. It's an animated a cartoon by Adult Swim, created by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is fanfiction, please support the official release and scream as loud as the sun until Season 3 comes out.

NOTE: I'm pretty sure everyone wanted the events of this chapter. You're welcome. :3


Chapter 19 – The Rickstraction

November 28th, 7:54am, Local Ship Time, 2001
Unnamed Nebula, Space
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316


Sleepy eyes blinked open to the sound of a fussing young child somewhere off to the space in front of him. It took Rick a solid minute to focus his eyes on the side of the crib, and then he was aware of the fact that he had consumed so much alcohol that he was still relatively inebriated. He also became aware of a painful throbbing behind his eyes and under his ribcage, an uncomfortably full bladder, and a heavy, warm mass pressed up against him on the bed.

It was also snoring right next to his ear.

"Huh...?" Rick had to do a double-take; he turned his head to look back at the intruder who was still very much asleep and comfortably snuggled into his back. "W-what the hell!?" He sprang off the bed in surprise only to trip over and land in a sprawling heap on the floor beside it.

Surgeon Rick made a grumpy groan when his source of warmth was taken away and the movement caused him to stir awake. "Oh, hey... you OK down there?"

Rick stumbled back to his feet in a hurry. "Wh-what the hell are you doing in my bed?!"

Surgeon Rick lazily opened his eyes and looked back at him as if it were the stupidest question in the world. "Sleeping... duh." He made note of the other male's mood and softly snickered, finding it amusing. "Sleeping and saving your dumb ass from vomit asphyxiation. What time is it?" He finally sat up to glance at the display console above the bedhead and yawned. "Eh, I still got about an hour before work. You want the bed back, bro?"

"Get the FUCK out of my room!" Rick loudly barked out the demand, though he immediately regretted it when Morty added to the noise with his own wailing. "Shit, not again..." He moved over to the crib and scooped him up in his arms. "Sorry about that, little buddy."

"Ah, he probably got several hours in this time. Nothing to worry about." Surgeon Rick slid off the edge of the bed and stood up to stretch his arms over his head. "Before you ask, we didn't do anything... was just trying to keep an eye on you. Besides, I have standards and you were drunk. How messed up would that be?"

"Get OUT!" Rick angrily pointed a thumb at the door.

"Nah, man. Not until you're sorted out. How's your hand?" Surgeon Rick nodded towards it. "Do you even remember what you did to yourself last night?"

Rick scowled as he set Morty over his shoulder and began the process of quietening him down. "I-I'd rather not, to tell you the truth..."

"So here's what's gonna happen next," Surgeon Rick watched him for a moment before heading for the door. "You can hang out here all day, or you can come follow me to work. While I'm sure the boss wants to keep you locked up until he knows you're good, I'd personally go insane. I-I'd rather be out there and supervised than left to my own devices in a box with my own thoughts and misery," he paused, grinning, "I'd rather choose the distraction."

Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "The other one told me to take time out and think about it. Now you're telling me not to?" He growled in annoyance but kept himself under control for Morty's sake. "Think about it... don't think about it... which one is it?"

"What if I told you it's both?" Surgeon Rick paused thoughtfully. "Like, give yourself time to think but don't get hung up over it. Well, actually you can because that's part of the grieving process, but... don't let it consume your every waking moment because that's not healthy either." He shook his head in frustration. "Damn it, see how this shit doesn't make sense? This is why I didn't major in psychology. I'm a fuckin' surgeon, I don't do head-space bullshit. All the people I dealt with were anesthetized and I didn't have to talk to them."

"Fine. I don't wanna be here, so," Rick forcefully thrust Morty into the other Rick's arms. "Hold onto my grandson for a sec, I-I gotta take a leak."

"You might wanna consider a shower while you're in there, dude. You threw up on yourself. Hope you haven't forgotten that!" Surgeon Rick happily took Morty and gave him a lopsided grin; it seemed that the little boy was still trying to work out why he looked like his grandpa and didn't at the same time. "Hell, kill two birds with one stone and pee in the shower. Saves time and the water-recycling system takes it all back to the same place."

"You're fucking disgusting!" Rick snarled as he slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

Surgeon Rick chuckled to himself; this Rick was just far too much fun to wind up. Then he realized that he couldn't help but care because he had liked him from the moment he had met him. Maybe that wouldn't prove to be a bad thing after all.


Surgeon Rick escorted his charge to the terminal hub at five minutes to nine. He decided to wheel Morty's crib along for the trip to allow him his own little safe space while his Rick worked. After arriving through the doorway, he pushed it in the direction of the other and made his way over to his own workstation.

"Why don't you get started on your reports for the Council?" He suggested. "Until one of the screens spits out another retrieval order, I'm gonna be processing shit for most of the day. I used to be a surgeon. Now I'm the pathologist, the euthanasia guy, the coroner, the morgue guy, and then crematorium guy after that. I'm glad they think I can do everything, but... holy shit." He grumpily sat down at his desk and took a test tube rack of biological specimens out of his work fridge, deciding to get stuck into work right away.

"Why do you even bother?" Rick grumbled as he glanced around the room. "Which one is mine?"

"Pick any one you want, they're all on the same network." Surgeon Rick shrugged. "Why bother? Somebody's gotta... you can't just leave dead Ricks and their portal guns lying around. We're the smartest thing alive across all of the timelines. You know how many aliens would exploit our DNA if we gave them the opportunity? You know that's asking for trouble, right?"

Rick pushed the crib over to the far row of terminals against the wall and finally decided on a table about five computers down from Surgeon Rick's. He sat down in the chair and immediately set his face in his hands, the intense discomfort behind his eyes reminding him of how much he'd overdone it. "S-so you just... spend all day collecting dead ones. What a waste of your time."

"Well, very rarely we get a live one like you, but wasting time and getting paid for it is the very definition of a job, yo." Surgeon Rick chuckled for a moment, only to give his charge a look of concern. "Oh, hey... you need drugs, don't you?" He got to his feet without waiting for an answer and began sifting through the clutter in his top drawer. "It's OK, bro. I got your back."

Ricktus casually arrived through the doorway as the hour ticked over and whistled a tune to himself as he made his way over to his own table. "Hey, C-711." He paused when he made note of the second Rick not too far away from him. "Ah, you're here, too. It's good to see you up again so soon."

"Uh, about that... he's gonna hang with us today, if you don't mind, boss." Surgeon Rick found what he was looking for and tossed a bottle of pills across the table. "He didn't wanna be stuck in the room, so I was figuring we could just take turns at keeping an eye on him while we work."

"Hmm... that's not going to work if both of us have to go out." Ricktus hummed in thought. "It's been a little more quiet than normal recently, but I wouldn't put it past HQ to overload us again soon enough."

Surgeon Rick shrugged. "Eh, we'll make it work." He removed a bottle of mineral water from his fridge and reached across to deposit it down onto the workspace before his charge. "Take this, too. When you get hungry, there's microwave food and ice cream bars in the freezer."

"Not my cryogenic freezer, I hope!" Ricktus suddenly objected. "How many times have I told you not to store food in that? Do you think I want my DNA samples mixed up with your goddamned cheeseburgers, or whatever the hell you put in there this time?!"

"Would you relax?" Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes as he sat back down at his desk. "When was the last time you even used that thing?"

"Last week!"

"Oh... well, not now, right?"

Rick hugged himself around the middle, his bad mood sinking further; the fact that he had to sit there and listen to the two Ricks arguing wasn't helping one bit. He wished the pain under his ribs would go away, as it was definitely not something that normally accompanied a hangover, but quickly attributed it to the fact that he had slept in an uncomfortable position during the night. He tried to put it out of his mind as he snatched up the bottle of pills to examine them more closely.

"What are these?" The scientist gave them an experimental shake. "They aren't even labeled."

Surgeon Rick replied with a soft snicker and a proud grin. "Oh yeah... add chemist and pharmacist to the list. Remember how I said I invented the drunken bender in my dimension? Well those are basically my quick fix. It's a little something I like to manufacture in-house an-"

"So you ARE stealing the pharmaceuticals!?" Ricktus snapped at him from his place across the room. "If those pills interfere with my results, I will hold you personally responsible!"

"Goddamn it... I told you to relax, boss!" Surgeon Rick retorted. "Do you wanna put them through the chemical-analysis machine yourself? They're just analgesics, they don't contain any addictive shit. Settle down, OK?"

When the room was quiet again, Rick downed two of the pills along with half the bottle of water. He spent several minutes blankly staring at the computer screen in front of him while he waited for the drugs to kick in and stole a glance in Morty's direction; the little boy was oblivious to his surroundings as he played with the toys that had come along with him in the crib. The scientist felt a sense of overwhelming guilt – it was painfully apparent that Morty was completely clueless about what had happened to him; he didn't seem to know or care about the foreign object that had been implanted in his neck, nor did he seem to care about anything else, now that he was in a warm safe place.

He was blissfully ignorant. Rick could only wish that he too felt the same way.

He spent more time staring at the bandages on his left hand while he gathered his thoughts regarding the intel reports and finally decided to start with the rudimentary information: describing the physical aspects of the Gromflomite species along with their caste system and society-designated functions. By the time he was done, he felt somewhere towards normal again. He finished off the other half of the water bottle and launched into a long-winded technical report regarding the Federation's weaponry and different types of transport ships, along with their fighting strategies. He also spent considerable effort describing their ambushing-swarm strategy simply because he had fallen for it more times than he wanted to admit.

Soon enough, a loud, resonating hum distracted everyone from what they were doing.

"Oh, snap! Dead guy in E-3551." Surgeon Rick was the first one to respond, only to go quiet again as he read the data from his computer in more detail. "Whoa, absolute carnage... whoever does this one is gonna need a shitload of bleach."

"What's the asking price?" Ricktus turned around in his chair and leaned his arm against the backrest. "Is it worth it?"

"Barely. Just a portal-gun retrieval and a DNA scrub because there ain't much left of him to retrieve." Surgeon Rick seemed disappointed. "Three hundred credits. So lame, man..."

Ricktus proudly smirked back at him. "On the contrary, C-711... it's an opportunity to put the hive to work again. You so easily forget that we have an entire shipload of insects that like to eat biological waste and carrion." He moved off his own chair.

"Actually, I try not to remember." Surgeon Rick grumbled. "They're gross and weird and I hate them."

"Here's what we're going to do," the doctor casually moved across the room and stood behind his assistant's chair. "I am in need of coffee because the shipment guy fucked up again. You can stay there and watch your new buddy-buddy that you love so much."

"H-hey!" Surgeon Rick swung around to protest. "Where are you getting that idea from?! I-I'm just following the objective, which was keeping him alive like you wanted! I already told you that!"

"Suuuuurrrre," Ricktus drew the word out in a mocking tone as the smirk grew even further across his face. "You don't have to lie to me; I've already seen the surveillance footage. I know where you've been and I have a fairly good idea of what you've been up to."

"HEY! What... w-what the fuck, man!? N-NO!" Surgeon Rick stumbled over his own words. "That's messed up and you know it! I-I did that to stop him from choking, that was all! What kind of Rick do you think I am?!"

Ricktus gently placed both hands on the surgeon's shoulders as a soft chuckle escaped his throat. "Relax, I'm just fucking with you. I don't give a shit what you choose to do with your free time." He patted him on the shoulder and headed for the doorway. "Winding you up never gets old. Stop making it so easy."

"Well you're in a good mood..." Surgeon Rick muttered. "Just for that, you're buying me breakfast!"

"Worth it." Ricktus gave him a devious smirk as he slipped around the corner.

"Fuckin' motherfuck bitch!" Surgeon Rick pounded both fists down on the table in front of him.

"Relax, it really wasn't that big of a deal." Rick swung around in his chair to face him. "Why'd you get so worked up about it? I already know you think I'm amazing, so who cares?"

"You know what?" As Surgeon Rick moved to his feet, he seemed to calm down a little. "You're right, I shouldn't be caring. I got shit to print out anyway..." He moved off to the far corner of the room.

Rick raised an eyebrow as he watched him go, finding his behavior odd; nothing had been said that should have logically made him react so strongly. He shrugged it off after another moment as a more-important thought came to mind; nobody was watching him anymore and he had unlimited access to the hundreds of computers in his immediate surroundings, which meant he could do some investigating of his own.

After a subtle glance back in Surgeon Rick's direction to make sure that he was well and truly occupied, the scientist moved across the desk and began accessing the database in the terminal left of the one he had just been working on. Once in the system, he ran a search query on the most pressing query on his mind: 'bees'. Over three-hundred journal-entry listings came up.

"Huh." Rick was vaguely impressed and knew that he could easily spend days going through them all. He clicked the top entry and decided to just start reading from the beginning, not really caring how long it might take.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-06-25
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: Nothing important – personal journal entry
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Restricted

After everything that has happened, I am surprised that I have managed to stay alive at all. Joining this stupid endeavor and getting involved in some other galaxy's war effort was a long shot, but it's the only option I have left. I need these idiots for their technology and they needed a medic because, apparently, they don't know how to avoid getting shot.

My new employers and this stupid ship are a bastardized mishmash of species whose only mark of superiority seems to be what gases you breathe and how many other lives you've taken. They have made their dislike of me very apparent by the fact they keep calling me derogatory names like 'bipedal trash' and 'filthy oxygen breather'. Perhaps they are hazing me because I am new and I suppose there is merit in the insults because the rest of my species is typically seen as under-evolved, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let them treat me like shit for very long. Maybe I can 'accidentally' forget to turn on the methane next time I'm dealing with one of them in triage?

Note to self: Encrypt these data entries before they accuse me of attempted murder.

I'm attempting to gain their trust and access to their superior cloning technology by the suggestion of creating a perpetually renewable energy source because what the ship runs on right now is embarrassingly outdated. I already have a solution and it's just a matter of waiting. I've been watching a tiny space bee that flies around planetoid TAL-39 with amazing potential and I want to map its entire genome so I can pull it apart.

I already know I can pull it off because I'm great at what I do. I just hope I can do it in a relatively timely manner because these aliens already bore me by existing.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Rick quickly closed the journal entry and scooted back from the computer when he heard Surgeon Rick walking back towards his position. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he observed the other male return to his own workstation; it seemed that his caretaker either wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, or that he didn't care. Maybe it was both.

He settled back at the computer and decided to keep reading.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-06-27
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: Nothing important – personal journal entry
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Restricted

After just two days, my employers have decided that they need me to access the extended areas of the ship. Naturally, this was done so I could treat more of their sorry asses, but I can't help but wonder why they're so disorganized and bad at planning attack strategies – they keep getting their asses kicked. Fortunately for me all I have to do is process their dead, sew the living back up, or treat typical things like fractures and plasma burns while I pretend I don't give a shit about anything in the name of being clinical.

It's pretty easy to act like you don't give a shit when you don't give a shit.

Talk about progress; I am in luck! One of TAL-39's space bees (a scout/gatherer female) was attached to one of the corpses that came into the morgue after a failed reconnaissance mission. I have captured her in a specimen jar and successfully fed her using parts of the dead alien she was attached to. She is not a particularly noteworthy example of her species but she can survive in -455°F and that is still better than what I am capable of.

If my employers really wanted a biological, perpetually sustainable energy source, wouldn't it make sense to breed something that knows how to defend their ship, too?

Note to self: Make it look like a main project and then work on my side project while they're distracted. It won't take much because of how sidetracked they already are. I guess being embroiled in intergalactic warfare does that to you.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Rick narrowed his eyes after reading the last lines; he was deeply intrigued and couldn't work out what he was alluding to. He supposed he would have to keep reading, which wasn't particularly difficult considering how deeply involved his caretaker was engrossed in his own work. He was about to open the next journal entry when he heard the sound of whistling as Ricktus casually sauntered back into the terminal room and he retreated across the desk once again.

"Hey, morons." As Ricktus made his way through the room, one of his insectoid experiments followed along with his every step. "Well, that went a lot better than anticipated. The whole job only took about five minutes once I got some members of the hive to eat the remaining evidence." He dumped a fast-food bag down on Surgeon Rick's desk. "There's breakfast as promised, now I don't owe you shit. Oh, and before I forget," he took a portal gun out of his coat pocket and tossed it next to the bag. "Disintegrate the core and dismantle the rest. Be careful though, it's still live."

"Wait..." Surgeon Rick picked up the portal gun and began to unscrew the bulb from the casing. "You actually got your damn bees to eat the dead Rick!? Gross! T-that's so fucked up, bro!"

Ricktus nearly lost his balance when the insectoid creature crawled up his back and perched on his shoulders. "If I had done the job with bleach as you suggested, I would have been there hours and scrubbing isn't really my thing." He reached across to gently scratch the fur on the side of the insect's head with the fingers of his left hand. "She's efficient, give her some credit."

"It's still fucking disgusting, dude..." Surgeon Rick sighed as he took the internal circuitry out of the portal gun and pulled it apart. "If you encourage them to eat dead Ricks, what's stopping them from taking a bite out of you in your sleep?"

"The fact that they can differentiate between living and dead organisms?" Ricktus smirked back at him, confident and full of himself. "How about the fact that they love me and think I'm their God? Besides," he turned his attention towards the insect, "Fleur knows better than to eat me. You wouldn't do that, would you?"

The insectoid responded with a loud squeak and stuck out her long, coiled tongue.

"Phhh!" Surgeon Rick snorted in disgust. "I dunno, boss. I'd start worrying if I were you. Have you seen how smart they are? One day they're gonna develop a culture and think about sacrificing us or some shit, I-I bet you anything!"

Ricktus actually had to laugh at the notion. "They're not that stupid, C-711. All they're interested in doing is making more of themselves and expanding their territory. Just like any other species, really."

"Yeah, you're not wrong..." Surgeon Rick set the portal-gun pieces aside and handed him the printouts he had made. "Before you go off on your next adventure, I think you might wanna read B-526's latest pathology report. We got decent a readout for the serum chemistry this time and the numbers are actually pretty concerning."

Rick sat up properly in his chair and turned his head to glare at him. "What do you mean?" He eyed off the paper bag of food, the smell wafting from it attracting both his interest and hunger.

"Uh..." Surgeon Rick ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking quite troubled. "You wanna read it?"

Ricktus's good mood evaporated as he looked over the data. "I think I'd like to finish reading it for myself first... I still have the earlier report for comparison so don't worry about printing it out." He paced back towards his own table with the insect still perched on his shoulder, deep in thought and incredibly unhappy with what he was seeing.

Rick watched him walk away. "What's wrong? Whatever it is, it's probably nothing... I-I feel fine." It was a lie, but he was still blaming it on his hangover and didn't think it could possibly be as dire as they were making it out to be.

"You sure about that? Because you really shouldn't be." Surgeon Rick took a moment to glance back at his boss, then brought another copy of the data up on-screen. "Look, pathology ain't my main area of expertise, but I know enough to know when shit looks bad. A-and look at this fuckin' shit," he pointed at the screen, "it's bad."

"Wow, so eloquently put..." Rick got to his feet and moved over to take a better look, only to realize that pathology wasn't an area he was particularly well-versed in either. As his eyes scanned the data, all he could work out was that the red numbers either indicated deficiency or excess.

"It's actually not that bad, at least, not yet." Ricktus muttered thoughtfully as he leafed through the pages of the document. "I was expecting to see a sudden crash, but this is... unexpected. I'd like to collect more blood in approximately 48 hours from now because I want to monitor you and keep a record as more symptoms emerge." He was thinking aloud now. "Maybe there will be a pattern? Or maybe it's something new entirely?"

Rick growled at him. "I'm not your goddamned guinea pig! Just shut up and explain this one so I can tell you how wrong you are!"

"Still trying to be the mayor of 'I told you' town?" Ricktus couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Seems like you've got competition for your electorate."

"Shut the fuck up!" Rick spat back at him.

Surgeon Rick rolled his eyes; he could see where this was going and decided to put a stop to it. "Shit isn't supposed to drop gradually like this, brother. Lethal-radiation exposure just makes everything stop, like... your body can't manufacture cells anymore and you die. Anyway, your white-blood-cell count is shit," he pointed to the numbers on the monitor, "which means your immunity is fucked. And I'm gonna call bullshit on your whole 'feeling fine' crap, because your red-cell count is shit, too. You should be feeling dizzy and lethargic by now, and I actually don't suggest doing too much crazy crap until we get that under control."

"Here we go again..." Rick made a loud noise of mockery. "I know what's coming next. Y-you're gonna use those things as another excuse to keep me trapped here, right?"

"Actually," Ricktus decided to speak up this time and answer the question. "The ultimate goal is to release you. Although it seems counterproductive that I chose to hold onto you a little longer, you'll be free again soon enough. It's easy enough to dose you up with white cells and monitor you remotely once you're back out in the wild. You can come back as you get worse and we'll deal with it as it comes, as you said." His tone became firm and grumpy. "Just see that you actually stay true to your word... don't force me to capture you again."

"Fuck you!" Rick sharply retorted.

"That attitude is becoming awfully tiring, Rick." Ricktus warned him. "Everything we've done to you has been for your benefit, so the least you could do is show some goddamn gratitude."

"Actually, everything you've done has been for selfish motives." Rick snorted indignantly and folded his arms across his chest. " And the least I could do is nothing, which is what I plan to do."

"Wow..." Ricktus slowly shook his head. "While it's deeply reassuring to see that you still have so much fight in you, I really wish you'd use it to keep focused on the serious things." He made a low, frustrated sigh. "There is one last outstanding issue on the pathology report and you're not going to like it."

"Go on," Rick impatiently tapped his foot.

Ricktus turned to the back page. "Judging by the elevated-enzyme readouts I'm seeing here, it looks like your liver is struggling. It might be a sign that it's about to shut down, or maybe it's because you keep subjecting it to so much torture. While organ dysfunction and failure supports the plasma-radiation-poisoning theory, I want to keep an eye on it to see where it goes." He paused hesitantly. "You might want to consider laying off the alcohol until we can fix it."

"Yeah, not happening." Rick snatched up the paper bag from Surgeon Rick's table and took it back with him to his own computer. "Fuck your data."

"H-hey man, what did I do to deserve that?!" Surgeon Rick yelped at him. "Yesterday it was my muffin and now this? What's with you assholes and stealing my food!?"

"Let him keep it, C-711." Ricktus firmly instructed him. "He needs the calories far more than you do. In fact, you could even do with laying off the calories for a while."

"Wow, rude. I hate both of you, you know that?" Surgeon Rick angrily muttered. "Fuckin' jerks..."

"So you're gonna keep monitoring me, huh? How do you keep watch on the Ricks in the other dimensions?" Rick tore open the paper bag and started munching on the breakfast burger inside. "I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty fucking freaked out when you hacked my portal gun. Responding to me in real-time only made it worse, I-I thought you bugged the whole room or something."

"You really do ask a lot of questions, don't you?" Ricktus opened his top drawer and took out a device that looked like an overgrown virtual-reality headset. "Interdimensional goggles. They scan your retinas and match the wearer's DNA to let you see through the eyes of another you." He carefully placed the goggles into the mouth of the bee on his shoulder. "Fleur, take this over to the other me."

The bee sprang off her master and enthusiastically bounded across the floor. Once she had reached her destination, she hopped up onto the table and dumped the goggles down in front of her intended target along with a mouthful of sugary slobber.

Rick screwed his face up in disgust. "Pass. I... I'm just gonna trust your word on this one. I'm not gonna wear them now." He picked up the device by the strap and dumped it on the chair beside him. "Oh gross, it got on my keyboard, too!"

"Hey, none of them are perfect, but at least they're loyal." Ricktus snapped his fingers and pointed to his shoulder. "Come back here." He flinched when the insect clumsily landed on him once more, but didn't seem to mind too much.

Rick narrowed his eyes as he observed the interaction. "How can you tolerate that? It's huge and it could easily crush your skull with those pointy front limbs. Their claws also hurt when they took me down... t-they're gross. How can you stand them?"

"Yeah, we're in total agreement there..." Surgeon Rick grumbled.

"Shut it, C-711." Ricktus growled at him. "While I admit they're not much to look at, I guess you look on something rather favorably when you become involved with it." He carefully removed the insect from his shoulder and set her down on the floor beside his chair.

Rick was silent now; he wanted to learn more about what functions the insectoid creatures served, but he also knew he could either probe the doctor with more questions or continue reading his journal entries and acquire the answers that way; he figured he was close to finding them by now anyway.

He opted for the latter, as that would involve less talking.

The room was quiet again as the Ricks around him went on with their own work. Rick unplugged the syrup-covered keyboard and swapped it out for another to resume his own report writing, though he was finding it incredibly tedious by now; he already knew the information he was writing down and describing it in such a way so that another Rick could learn from it was becoming uninteresting and felt like a waste of his time. After making sure he wasn't being watched, he decided to get back into the same kind of snooping he was doing before.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-07-15
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: Nothing important – personal journal entry
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Restricted

I spend most of my days patching up these losers. While they are getting more organized in their battle tactics, the number of casualties always seems to be higher than what I can deal with alone – my resources are so far stretched that I am now sacrificing sleep to deal with their problems along with my own projects. Coffee has become my best friend.

My hard work continues to earn their respect and I have finally gained access to the cloning facility on the ship. They must have realized how useful I am and they know their ship cannot outrun the forces that are trying to pursue them so now they are actively pushing me into researching my alternative fuel source.

In the first experiment I conducted, I dropped my little bee friend straight into the hyperbaric-cloning chamber. She died immediately but the machine cloned her approximately 100,000 times in the space of three minutes. Whoops. I guess her small biomass and lack of DNA complexity was a factor? Next time I will be sure to read the instruction manual.

I wonder how quickly these things would be able to clone a human? I will find out soon enough and this excites me. Maybe I have half a chance of fixing my mistake.

After trying to explain to my superiors why their cloning facility was full of angry space bees trying to sting them, I tried to put a positive spin on the situation – how can you be upset when a room is full of bees? Among all the species on planet Earth, they are one of the most efficient and functional. Each hive member knows their purpose and they all work in perfect harmony. Nobody ever heard of a homicidal or depressed bee.

They are so very unlike the human race, which is fucked up and I'm glad that I don't live on planet Earth anymore.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Well, that escalated quickly..." Rick mumbled aloud to himself as he clicked the next journal entry down the line.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-07-17
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: Genome sequencing / DNA splicing
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Restricted

It has been just over a month... I still haven't been back to Earth. I'm not even sure I can.

My employers have hired more medical staff, which means I am allowed to devote more time to my fuel-source project. After dissecting more of my little bee friends (we're still finding them alive in the ducting system), I was able to extract several viable samples for DNA splicing. They are already rugged enough to survive space itself so my next task is simple – making them bigger.

While the first round of DNA tweaks successfully enlarged them in size, they became prone to spontaneously combusting when exposed to the methane atmosphere outside the cloning facility. While I'm sure my superiors could probably benefit from weaponizing incendiary bees, that is not the point of this experiment.

I need more coffee and less bees that set themselves on fire.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-07-29
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: IT'S A FUCKING FAILURE
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Restricted

I can't do this anymore. I had high hopes for this project in the beginning but it's just turning into a fucking disaster. This ship and its technology was my last chance at trying to atone for my mistakes but if I can't succeed on something as rudimentary as an insect, what hope do I have of altering the genome of a human?

No matter how many times I try playing with the DNA of the goddamned bees, something undesirable always happens with the end result. Making them bigger makes them more fragile and altering their carapace density causes them to become brittle. They also don't do well when exposed to heat – every single one of them explodes in temperatures higher than 45°C/113°F. Millions of years of evolution has forged them into perfection, so what chance do I have at making them better? I can't.

The only solution to this problem would be to add something else entirely, but what?

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Hey, B-526, question for you." Ricktus's voice broke through the quiet of the room. "You've killed a lot of things, haven't you?"

"Well, that came outta nowhere." Rick quickly closed the journal-entry window and turned around to face him. "But yeah, I-I guess I have. Why do you ask?"

Ricktus didn't even wait before launching straight into it. "How would you go about murdering a lifeform that was mainly water? We're talking over ninety-five percent of its total biomass," he quickly added, "hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Freeze it." Rick suggested after a moment of silent consideration.

"Hmm... no, that wouldn't work." Ricktus tapped his chin, deep in thought. "The planet is mostly ice. They already live in sub-zero conditions."

"This is becoming awfully specific." Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "This is no longer a hypothetical, is it? Are you trying to get me to do your work for you?"

"Yes," Ricktus nodded, not even bothering trying to hide it anymore. "One of the Council's business partners has a bounty on his head and has been captured. He wants us to get him out before he can be handed over to the authorities. If they get his portal gun, then there's no saying what could happen... it's bad, Rick."

"I see..." Rick frowned, but the whole scenario had already stirred his mind enough to start trying to solve it. "What kind of neural network does this lifeform have?"

"I'll patch the species data across to your terminal." Ricktus swung around in his chair and began hurriedly typing away at his keyboard. "Have you ever heard of Korblocks? They're bright-yellow, slug-like aliens, and they're usually space pirates and looters in most dimensions. They're also gelatinous and can't be effectively killed with plasma rounds. Plasma typically burns straight through them."

"Ugh, Korblocks... yeah, I've had run-ins with them before." Rick muttered in distaste. "You could try electrocuting them, but the amount of power you'd need would be impractical to carry around, i-it wouldn't even be portable." He gritted his teeth in annoyance. "I assume you're doing this stealthily, yeah?"

"Yes," Ricktus nodded. "We're aiming to get in and out before anyone even knows what's going on."

"Hmm..." Rick was conflicted; he knew he had no good reason to help this particular version of himself, but he did not want a portal gun to end up in the wrong hands - there was really no arguing with the Council on that one as much as he didn't like them. "Your best option would be to dry them out." He said finally.

"What? Really?"

"Have you ever seen a jellyfish on the beach?" The scientist quickly explained his reasoning. "They're about ninety-five-percent water, too. They don't survive long out of the ocean, so... desiccate them." He nodded as he thought through it again. "It wouldn't even be hard to build a desiccation ray. I could do it in my sleep."

"Holy shit, Rick, that... that would actually work. Why didn't I think of it?" Ricktus sat up properly, suddenly full of enthusiasm. "You're a goddamned genius!"

"Well, duh." Rick was suddenly smug. "Smartest guy in the universe, hello? Didn't you get the memo?"

Ricktus ignored him as he resumed fervently mashing the keys at his computer.

Rick took note of how easily he was distracted and resumed reading. "Tch... that's just sad."

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-07-05
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: No.
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Restricted

He would have been a month old today.

I have lost just about everything important to me and I can feel the energy draining from my body every day. I don't have the fire to fuel myself anymore and instead of science and the pursuit of knowledge driving me on, it has all become meaningless. I'm tired of feeling this way. What's the point?

Who am I kidding? I was never going to get anywhere with this ship or the bees and I was a fool for kidding myself into thinking I could make anything better.

I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

As Rick stared at the last line of the journal entry, he realized that he was no longer breathing; it sounded far too familiar to his own sentiments. As he let out a tense sigh and rubbed at his eyes with his bandaged hand, it was becoming apparent that he had been following the wrong keyword. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to pursue the direction his next search would probably take him, so he sat there for a few moments as his fingers hovered over the letters, silently cursing his curiosity as he finally typed them in: 'Mortimer'.

Twenty-five entries appeared.

He clicked the one at the top of the listing, knowing full well he was prying into things that definitely did not concern him now.

He had to know.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-06-05
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: Mortimer
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Classified

Against all odds, the universe has finally granted me all I could ever ask for - Elizabeth has given me a grandchild. I would have had another over three years ago but she decided to terminate. As much as I would have liked that, it was not my call to make.

She has chosen to name him 'Mortimer' though I'm not quite sure why. I'm also not sure I care, because all I am focused on is trying to save him.

We all knew this day was coming. All the way from the beginning we knew this pregnancy was a risk but after the first one, Elizabeth decided to go through with it anyway. The first ultrasound revealed a massive, congenital defect involving abnormalities of the heart valves. Although operable, it will be expensive and extremely delicate. Thank fuck Elizabeth knows a doctor who knows how to do that, right?

I've tried not to blame the defect on Jerry even though such things are linked to genetics and I know this did not come from our side of the family. Why the hell did she choose him again?

Despite the feeling of morose hanging over everyone's heads, I am confident that this issue can be resolved.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Rick nearly jumped off his chair when a foam stress ball suddenly crashed down onto his keyboard. "What the hell?!" He quickly worked out its trajectory and turned his head in the direction of Surgeon Rick to shoot him a glare. "What the fuck was that for?!"

"Wasn't me." Surgeon Rick shrugged back at him, feigning ignorance. "That could have come from anywhere."

Rick spent another moment staring hard at him to express his intense disapproval, then let it go. "Phh... whatever. What are you, ten years old o-or something?" He closed the journal entry and occupied himself with adding more information to one of the earlier reports. When he heard a loud, shattering pop at his feet, a glance at the floor revealed glass shards around his chair complete with a red cap; somebody had just thrown a vacuum blood-collection tube at him. "Oh, COME ON!"

Surgeon Rick chuckled but continued to pretend his innocence. "My, where did that come from?" He pointed a finger in the direction of the doctor. "Either one of us could have dropped that, you food-stealing bitch."

"That does it!" Rick was on his feet with a loud growl and reached him in two angry strides. In one swift movement, he grabbed his dimensional counterpart by the shoulder and shoved him down onto the table to express the fact he wasn't going to tolerate such behavior. He immediately regretted the action as he remembered that this Rick was already too much of a pushover and didn't want to perpetuate more of the same treatment he already received from his boss. Instead, he chose to turn it in another direction entirely; he started to poke him in the ribs with his free hand and play along with his stupid game.

"How do you like that, huh?!" Rick bared his teeth in a grin and emphasized his words with a far-less-aggressive shove from the arm that was already pinning the surgeon down. "Yeah, I got you now! What are you gonna do about it!?"

"O-oh my god, STOP!" Surgeon Rick howled in protest, only to break into a fit of loud gravelly laughter. "Not the ribs, bro, fuck! A-anything but that!" He flailed out his arms in the attempt to shove him away.

Rick easily grabbed one of them and twisted it behind his back. "Who's the bitch now!?"

"You fucker, my arm doesn't bend that way!" Surgeon Rick cried out in between laughs. "Fucking stop, bro! Oww! I yield! I YIELD!"

Meanwhile, Ricktus had turned around in his chair and raised his eyebrows at the scene unfolding before him, not knowing what to make of it. "Do I have to come over there and break that up?"

Rick gave his victim one final shove as he moved off him, though it was legitimately playful this time. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He returned to his chair and resumed where he had left off as if nothing had happened.

Surgeon Rick sat up properly again, still thoroughly amused by the scuffle. "Not sure if I like that title." He rubbed his side. "Oh man, that actually hurt, you know... I am soooo gonna have to do something to your room when you're not looking."

"Try me." Rick challenged in reply, his tone legitimately serious.

Ricktus shook his head after deeming the exchange to be non-hostile. "It's nice to see you finally getting along with somebody over there, C-711."

"Hey, yeah, about that... remember when I got along with you, boss?" Surgeon Rick's grin faded as he cast a glance back in his direction. "That was back before you turned into a giant douchebag."

Ricktus made a soft, discontent sound as he turned around in his chair once more.

"It doesn't have to be that way, y'know." Surgeon Rick offered, all sense of amusement gone by now. "I'm on your side."

"Shut up and get back to work."

"You used to be cool," Surgeon Rick continued, though he knew he was already pushing it. "Is shit getting to you? It's OK to admit you need a vacation, you know. I can go back to the Citadel and hire more Ricks to make this go along faster."

"NO." Ricktus's tone became authoritative and icy cold. "We're already running a huge enough risk as it is with the three of us here. What do you think is going to happen if there's even more of us? Besides, I don't want to split the payments from the Council any more than we have to. Don't you understand that?" He let out a heavy sigh and his voice became much quieter than before. "I appreciate your concern, C-711... but my answer is no. Now... shut the fuck up and get back to it."

"Yeah boss," Surgeon Rick replied curtly. "Anything you say." He grumpily put his head down and resumed working.

Rick shook his head; there was obviously a lot more going on than what he knew about. In another moment, he decided it didn't matter and picked up the stress ball to lob back at Surgeon Rick for no reason other than to distract him from his sour mood.

"Hey, what the fuck!?"

Rick snickered and raised his right hand to extend his middle finger to him. "Unlike you, I have enough balls to admit that was me," he paused to give him a wide, toothy grin. "Bitch."

"Oho, it is ON now." Surgeon Rick declared, half-mocking, half-serious. "You are gonna fuckin' get it. I'm not gonna tell you when or how, but when it happens, you'll know."

"I look forward to it." Rick flattened his brow as low as it would go.

"Lucky for you, I got a core to disintegrate, so it'll be a nice surprise when you least expect it." Surgeon Rick picked up the portal-gun pieces on his desk and headed for the door. "Hey boss, watch the bro and his Morty, OK? See you fuckers later, I'm gonna go blow something up!"

Ricktus ignored him completely.

Rick sat in the quiet of the room after Surgeon Rick's departure. He spent a short amount of time checking up on Morty, who had fallen asleep amongst his toys. With a soft chuckle, he ran his fingers through the boy's soft head of hair and dragged the crib to the side of his chair so he could keep one hand on him while he resumed reading.

The next five journal entries he skimmed through were little more than detailed descriptions of delicate, cardiac-surgery procedures on newborn babies, along with raw data containing survival rates following organ transplants.

What Rick read next made him feel sick to the core.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

Log Date: 2000-06-11
Author: Q-316 Rick Sanchez (MD)
Subject: WELL FUCK
Risk Level: N/A
Classification: Classified

Six days. Nobody's life should be only six days long. This isn't fair. Poor little bastard never even made it outside the hospital to see the light of day. And what is worse, I have to live with the fact that I'm responsible for ending two lives instead of just one.

The universe was against me the whole time it seems; the only way I could have saved Mortimer was to replace that which was broken. I'm trying to tell myself that it didn't matter because his heart was going to fail regardless of what I did, but nothing will ever excuse me from murdering another person's child as well; I forged documents to conveniently 'find' a donor.

Not that there was any point - Mortimer was far too weak and did not survive the surgery.

Elizabeth doesn't even know he's dead. I grabbed the damn corpse from the OT before anyone could work out what was happening and used my portal gun to get the fuck out of there. Nobody has a fucking clue anyway, so who cares?

In my haste, I got careless. There had to be a better way, but instead I killed him. I can't go back until I fix this mess. I don't know how yet, but I WILL do something.

Note to self: Delete this eventually, as it practically convicts me of murder.

- x - x - x - x - x - x - x -

"Holy shit..." Rick's eyes widened after he had finished reading the journal entry. "Holy fucking shit..." His mind was racing as it all finally clicked together.

"Something wrong over there?" Ricktus called out to him from across the room.

Rick was silent for a short time. "You genuinely think you killed your Morty, don't you?"

"You... y-you don't listen very well, do you?" Ricktus sank in his posture, but kept his back turned and his expression concealed from view. "I told you not to speak of it. Why did you have to bring that up...?"

Rick didn't answer. He had expected an outburst of rage or similar emotion, but all he heard now was silence. It all suddenly made sense; everything from the reason why Ricktus was so emotionally charged and had such a favorable opinion of his Morty to why he had so readily announced that he wanted to kill him when they first met. The scientist mentally kicked himself over how obvious it all was now; no wonder Surgeon Rick knew about the current market value of a Morty - the doctor was using the Council and the derelict ship as a means to earn enough credits for another one and the price of Rick's survival was just another means to that end. Even his constant foul temper and the reason for treating his assistant so badly made sense; he must have been becoming discouraged at how slowly his progress was coming along.

Rick wasn't angry about it; he vaguely admired it. He himself had done so many crazy things to ensure Morty's survival and he knew he would have gone to similar extremes had his universe placed him in similar circumstances.

"For somebody who seems so intent on demanding privacy, you are awfully keen to invade the privacy of another." Ricktus finally spoke again. "I-I thought I told you not to mess around with my terminals, so of course you would... I was practically asking for it, wasn't I? I should have deleted all that crap a long time ago..."

"You seriously think you killed your Morty?" Rick frowned as he pushed the question a second time, unwilling to let it go. "OK, so what you did to try and save him wasn't great, but... I-I guess I understand it." He began to reason through the outstanding points as he thought aloud. "When it didn't go your way, you covered your tracks and came here to clone him. But something happened to the ship, didn't it?"

Ricktus remained silent.

"When your first plan didn't work out, well, actually it would have been your second, you went to the Council of Ricks to buy one instead." Rick went on. "But that isn't going well either, is it? Holy fucking shit, it all makes sense now..." He paused in thought. "Uh, you're not still interested in trying to kill me, are you? Because that's one of the only things you've been upfront about."

"No..." Ricktus sighed in defeat.

"Why not?" Rick raised an eyebrow in genuine curiosity. "Because I'd totally kill me if I was gonna get a free Morty out of it."

"I-it's complicated," frustration rose in the doctor's voice. "Sure, I wanted to kill you at first, and for exactly the reason you said. You're the closest I've ever gotten to an available Morty, shit..." He shook his head. "But that's not how it works. Besides, Riq IV gave the order to keep you alive and I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to."

"Why not?"

"Look how happy your Morty is when he's around you," as Ricktus finally turned around in his chair, the pained expression on his face just visible enough to be noticeable. "How can I take that away from him? How...?" He pulled the glasses off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're everything to him... that's why you need to stay alive."

Rick narrowed his eyes in thought. "Is that the real reason you want me alive? Other than the 2.1-million, bullshit credits?"

"I didn't do anything for your benefit, Rick..." The doctor's expression hardened. "You think that first care package was for you? I knew it would fuck with your mind, but... everything was for Morty's sake. Everything still is."

Rick made a loud noise of mockery. "You know you didn't kill him, right?"

"Yes, I did."

"No," Rick's tone became harsh and cranky. "You didn't. A congenital defect is just something that happens, i-it's nobody's fault. You didn't kill him, but sounds like you're blaming yourself because it's easy."

"Shut up!" Ricktus suddenly snapped at him. "I don't need your pity!"

Surgeon Rick casually wandered back into the room, only to stop as he heard the tail-end of the conversation. "Whoa, hey, bad time to come in? I wasn't even gone long. What the hell is wrong now?"

"Why don't you tell him?" Rick folded his arms across his chest. "Have you even bothered to?"

"Tell me what?" Surgeon Rick blinked in confusion. "Something going on, boss?"

"Look, I don't know what the fuck is going on between you two," Rick gave Surgeon Rick a sharp glare, then turned it on Ricktus, "I don't even have a reason to care, but it's fucking annoying to listen to. Fix your damn friendship and keep your lackey informed, o-or get rid of him because you're making him miserable."

Both Ricks went quiet; Surgeon Rick cast his gaze off to the side and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, while Ricktus just stared back at the scientist, his true feelings concealed with a deep scowl.

"There must be some kinda respect thing going on there, right?" Rick continued. "Does he even know why you're getting him to work here?"

"Dude, what are you even going on about?" Surgeon Rick frowned. "What is he talking about, boss?"

Ricktus slowly shook his head. "C-711 already knows I killed my Morty..."

"Oh... OH. Ooooh..." Surgeon Rick bit his lower lip. "Not a good subject to talk about, dude. Why are you reading up on shit like that?"

Rick almost seemed disappointed. "Phh... whatever. So that's one thing he knows about, but my point still stands." Rick pointed towards the doctor. "This guy treats you like shit and you let him. How many other things does he keep hidden from you? How much danger are you in by working here? If you have any ounce of respect for each other, you'd stop this bullshit charade and settle your differences. It's... i-it's counterproductive to fight over everything! You sound like an old married couple!"

"C-711," Ricktus nodded at Surgeon Rick to get his attention. "Go get B-526's portal-gun parts and his care package. It sounds like he's ready to be released."

"I, uh..." Rick's arms dropped to his sides, completely taken aback by the words. "What? How did you reach that conclusion? Was it something I said?"

"No," Ricktus swiveled around in his chair again, his back facing the others in the room. "I just don't want to listen to you anymore."

"Harsh, boss..." Surgeon Rick shook his head. "Harsh..."

"Well fuck you, too!" Rick spat back at the doctor. "If you wanna wallow in self-pity over something you had no control over on a derelict piece of shit in the middle of fucking nowhere, then that's your prerogative... b-but don't drag someone else down with you!"

"Get out of here, Rick..." The doctor's voice was very tired and weary. "Make sure you return again in 48 hours. The assistant is competent enough to administer you with a booster dose of white cells, so I don't need to do anything. You already have the coordinates to get back to the ship's portal hub, so... just go."

"Hey," Surgeon Rick moved across to nudge Rick in the shoulder. "Come on, bro. I'm sure you're actually glad to be able to leave, right? Besides, you've already said enough."

"Yeah, clearly." Rick growled the words out as he got to his feet and picked Morty up, who had peacefully slept through the entire ordeal. "Show me out. I'm done here."


Surgeon Rick led the scientist into the electronics lab and promptly disappeared down one of the aisles of shelving to retrieve the remaining pieces of his portal gun. After laying them out across the workbench, he stood back to watch him restore it, vaguely impressed at how quick and accurate he was with a soldering gun.

"This battery isn't identical to the old one," Rick grumbled as he held it up to the light. "But it'll fit inside the handle and that's all that matters." He leaned over the bench and carefully installed it in position.

"You still gotta put in a self-destruct mechanism, dude." Surgeon Rick gently prompted him. "Even if you don't join the Citadel, it's too big of a risk, especially with somebody as wanted as you."

"Gimme a week to figure it out." Rick replied. "If I'm wrong about not being sick, then you can just take it from my dead body and dismantle it like you do to all the others."

There was a loud clattering of plastic objects across the floor as Morty climbed up onto the lowest shelf nearby the workbench. Now that he was awake and alert, all he wanted to do was play and get into everything within his reach.

"Glad to see he's feeling better," Surgeon Rick laughed at him. "You OK down there, little guy? Do you need me to come over there and stop you?"

"Leave him be." Rick shrugged. "If he's not eating anything he shouldn't, then who cares? It keeps him happy." He held up the near-complete portal gun and sighed; it felt so good just to have it back. Ever the suspicious person he was, he pulled the bulb off and began to check the internals of the device over for bugs and signs of tampering; it had been out of his reach for far too long and anything could have happened to it.

Surgeon Rick observed the behavior and rolled his eyes. "Ugh, please... you don't have to do that. Now that we're all on the same page, there's no reason for the boss to fuck with your shit any longer. You held onto the datapad, didn't you? We can just send interdimensional communications to that from now on."

Rick narrowed his eyes back at him, still highly suspicious. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure about that." Surgeon Rick huffed in reply. "Look, I know you don't trust him, but I do... he's a good guy. If you won't go back on your word, then neither will he." He lowered his head slightly and reached up to rub the back of his head. "Thanks for what you said back there, i-it means a lot to me."

"No problem." Rick gave the circuit boards another quick inspection, then slotted them back into the portal-gun casing. "You should stand up for yourself more, though... it's embarrassing to watch. You're a Rick, aren't you? You should start acting like one."

"Look, now that you're gonna go free, do you wanna, uh... do you think you'd... um." Surgeon Rick stopped, not knowing how to say what he wanted to. He made an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat and was silent again.

Rick raised his head to look up at him, then narrowed his eyes. "Just spit it out."

"I was kinda hoping we could be friends, y'know?" Surgeon Rick glanced off to the side. "I-If you wanted to, that is. I don't have many and it gets really boring around here. It would be cool to have another drinking buddy and someone who could teach me how to make bombs and stuff." He sounded hopeful.

"You don't know how to do that?" Rick raised an eyebrow, surprised; he had assumed it was second-nature to all the Ricks on other timelines.

"Nah, man." Surgeon Rick admitted, sounding disappointed. "It's part of the road not taken, I-I never learned how. But I wanna, because it could come in handy one day. Blowing shit up is awesome, y'know?"

Rick grunted appreciatively; at least they shared that opinion.

"Only if you wanna, that is." Surgeon Rick hastily added. "But you gotta be free first, because otherwise the boss is gonna accuse you of having Stockholm Syndrome."

"Phhh, was that all?" Rick returned his attention to the portal gun and screwed the bulb back into the casing. "I think we've established some kind of friendship already, so you didn't even have to ask. You're annoying as fuck, but you're genuine." He paused in thought. "I like that."

"Aww shit yeah, bro!" Surgeon Rick whooped with happiness. "You're the be-"

"BUT," Rick interjected. "Don't expect me to be subordinate to your boss. Don't ask me to wear one of those shitty silver pins that the Council tried offering me, either. I'm not playing by your rules because I do what I want," he growled, "and you should consider doing the same. Grow a pair, OK?"

"I'll take it under advisement." Surgeon Rick chuckled. "Phew, I was worried I was never gonna see you again."

"I'm not actually sure you're gonna get rid of me so easily." Rick stated as he checked over the portal gun one last time before turning it on. "You guys seem intent on fixing me, and there's obviously still more shit going on that I wanna know about."

Surgeon Rick's eyes widened as he backed up towards the door. "Oh yeah, fixing you... holy shit, I nearly forgot. You OK with hanging out there for a sec?"

"Ugh..." Rick shook his head in mock disgust. "You're gonna make me wait even longer? The hell is wrong with you?"

Surgeon Rick did not answer and dashed around the corner. He returned only thirty seconds later with a hypodermic syringe filled with a milky-white suspension. "This shit's gonna sting, but it'll keep you protected until we can fix your immunity problem." He stepped back over to the other and rolled up his sleeve. "Sorry in advance."

Rick made his intense disapproval for the syringe known but offered no protest when it was administered; he knew it was necessary. After it was done, he simply pulled the sleeve of his shirt and lab coat back down and began to punch in the coordinates back to Bird World in Dimension B-526.

"So this is really it, isn't it?" Surgeon Rick moved away to dispose of the medical waste. "How do you think they're gonna react when you go back?"

"Don't care," Rick fired the portal gun at the nearest wall and nodded in approval when he saw the shimmering, watery portal adhere to it. "The only person I give a shit about in that dimension anymore is Birdperson. Once he knows I'm alive, I guess I can go from there."

"What are you gonna do now that you're free to go anywhere and do anything?"

"Haven't really thought about it..." Rick mumbled as he cast his gaze down towards Morty. "We can always just focus on trying not to die first." He waved him over. "Come on, little buddy. We're leaving."

Morty looked up from his pile of plastic ship-part spares and clumsily waded through the mess to get closer to his grandfather. He stared up at Surgeon Rick and silently regarded him, then finally settled his attention back on Rick.

Rick crouched down beside him. "See that, Morty?" He pointed ahead to the portal. "That's your gateway to adventure. Walk into the swirling vortex whenever you see one, 'cause it'll take you somewhere awesome." He gently nudged him forwards. "Go on, little buddy. You can do it."

Morty warily looked at the green, shimmery mass of light and made a soft noise in his uncertainty. He promptly retreated to the safety of his grandfather's side, completely unwilling to go any further.

Rick sighed at him. "What are you scared of? Portals aren't dangerous, they're fun."

"Looks like he still needs more time." Surgeon Rick picked up the care package and headed over to the portal. "Should I just toss this through?"

"Y-yeah, go for it." Rick stayed still for another moment before concluding that Surgeon Rick was right; Morty was still too young and he didn't want to force a potentially unpleasant experience onto him, so he opted to pick him up and set him over his shoulder instead. "You win this round, buddy. But there's nothing to be afraid of, OK? One day you're gonna grow up to love these things, I promise you."

Morty clung onto the collar of his grandfather's lab coat and snuggled into him, seeking his warmth and familiar scent. Now that he felt secure, he calmed down completely.

"You're a goddamn coward, Morty." Rick shook his head. "One day we'll go on all kinds of crazy adventures and I'll show you that there's nothing to be afraid of. You got that?" He headed for the portal and raised a hand up to wave back at the other Rick. "See you around."

"Yeah," Surgeon Rick waved back at him. "See ya later, fucker."

After the portal had collapsed inwards on itself, the surgeon was left to stand in the dim light of the room and he felt a mixture of pride and sadness; on one hand, he had helped a Rick to survive and gained a friend and an ally in the process, but on the other, he was alone without him.

At least he could take small comfort in the fact that he would see him again.