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 an Adult Swim cartoon by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon. This is fanfiction and unlicensed/unofficial material.

NOTE: This one made my brain stumble more than a few times, but it's finally complete! Yay!


Chapter 23 – Last Will and Ricktament

December 1st, 11:10am, Local Ship Time, 2001
Unnamed Nebula, Space
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316


As much as Rick didn't want to admit it, the resonating hum of medical equipment in the small room around him was reassuring, and perhaps even somewhat soothing to listen to. As much as he wanted to get up and move, he didn't; Surgeon Rick was still hovering by his bedside, impatiently waiting for some kind of answer.

"Well?"

Rick didn't say anything initially; although he'd only been breathing the oxygen for a short time, it was definitely bringing him back to his senses. He wasn't sure how to answer because he hadn't invested much thought in it, so he asked the only thing he was actually interested in knowing. "Where's Morty...?"

Surgeon Rick pointed towards the closed door. "Hangin' out in the hallway, just outside. I couldn't bring him in to see you 'cause his dumb crib wouldn't fit, and he'd just distract you anyway." He paused momentarily. "But if that's all you're worried about, then it sounds like your answer is already a 'yes'."

"I-I guess..." Rick replied with a slight huff. "Just... don't drag it out and torture me."

"Nah man, that's not how I roll." Surgeon Rick replied as he painfully hobbled across the room. "I'm gonna outsource and consult a third party so I don't get accused of hijacking the whole project. Plus if it's done on the quiet somewhere else, it's as if it never happened at all, right?"

"You're... you're gonna, uh... do the thing behind the other guy's back? That doesn't really seem like..." He wanted to say more but couldn't focus long enough to finish the sentence: complete coherence still eluded him.

Surgeon Rick gritted his teeth, needing a moment to contain himself. "You know it's a bad thing when I'M the one trying to reason through stuff, right? He's completely lost it! He doesn't listen to me and he's too proud to admit he's wrong," he slammed a hand down on the small table at the far end of the room. "You can't play around with people like that! I'm just trying to minimize the possibility of him making yet another giant mistake. He's not gonna see it that way, but..." He trailed off. "Fuck it, it's your call, man. What do you want me to do?"

"Just do what you gotta," Rick answered finally, "I-I don't wanna be here."

"Yeah, we're in total agreement there, bro." A calm came over the surgeon and his mind switched back into clinical mode. "The kind of biopsies I wanna collect are invasive and painful, but if I get them off to the lab boys at the Citadel now, then I can get you back somewhere towards normal." He moved away from the table and stood at Rick's bedside once again. "With your consent, I wanna drill a couple of holes in you and collect bone marrow, just to shut the boss up on his plasma-radiation-poisoning thing-"

"Wait, so... y-you... you don't think that's what it is either." Rick talked over the top of him. "What's your guess?"

"Dude," Surgeon Rick wearily sat down on the edge of the bed and poked him in the arm. "It doesn't matter. Thing is, I'm an ER trauma surgeon. I can guess all I want, and so can the boss. But we can't keep doing it forever. We need another pair of eyes on this - that's the reason I'm outsourcing. You need an answer, even if it doesn't come from us. Get it?"

Rick slowly nodded his head and closed his eyes; despite perking up, he still felt overwhelmingly tired. "Why are you doing this...? You don't have to..."

"Lots of reasons," Surgeon Rick took a quick look around the room; although he had disabled all the cameras and recording equipment earlier, he still wanted to double check that everything was off before speaking again. "Mm, m-maybe because, like you, I see a problem and wanna correct it because it's bullshit? Maybe I wanna see you live. Hell, maybe it makes me feel useful and like I'm actually worth something." He shrugged. "Maybe it's because I like you. Pick one of those."

"You like me, so... s-so you're gonna drill holes in me." Rick dryly mused. "Will it hurt?"

"Nah, not a chance." Surgeon Rick casually replied. "Because it's an invasive procedure, I'm gonna gas you and let you sleep through it." He hunched forward and glared down at his throbbing ankle; he very much could have done with some of the gas for himself. "You're gonna feel absolutely amazing when you wake up again, but it's only gonna be temporary, so take it easy. Hang around the ship, go to the electronics lab and build shit, I-I dunno. Hell... go watch the TV in my room for all I care. Just no more crazy hijinks, OK? You might not be so lucky next time."

Rick didn't answer; all he wanted to do was sleep.

"So that's how it's gonna be? Fine." Surgeon Rick moved off the bed again and limped over to the wall to adjust the gas ratios in the oxygen-distribution hose. "I know I can't stop you, but I can sure as hell give you the judgy face when you do dumb shit. But that doesn't matter right now, because all I want you to do is breathe. Breathe deep and exhale. And don't feel bad about enjoying it because it's REALLY good shit."

"Wh... w-what is it...?" Rick forced out the question through the cloudy haze that was already enveloping him, though this time it was mixed with overwhelming calm and euphoria; whatever the gas was, it sure was quick and effective.

"Methoxyflurane," Surgeon Rick replied with a broad smirk. "And don't worry because this time I'm actually using it for its intended purpose." He turned the gas up higher. "How you doin' down there, bro?"

Rick could only manage a content hum in reply; he was already more than halfway gone. With the presence of a friend nearby combined with the fact that he was already tired, he found it easy to slip under the effects of the gas and fall asleep entirely.

Surgeon Rick grinned to himself after he was satisfied that Rick was finally out of it. "Hah, gets 'em every time." He limped away to begin the procedures ahead.


As Ricktus tried to relax in the recliner chair he kept in his personal quarters, he consoled himself with a bottle of wine as he reflected on the events in the nightclub. An unbearable sense of failure washed over him as the memories replayed in his head; what was meant to be a relatively straightforward retrieval mission had ended in complete disaster, and it just reminded him of how woefully unprepared and vulnerable he could be. He was also a spineless coward and useless; in the face of adversity he had frozen like a deer in headlights.

Although he'd always been the type to plan things ahead, he had failed to come up with anything at all when his initial ideas came apart around him. Rick was right; he didn't have a backup plan and if not for the scientist's leadership and forward-thinking actions, both of them and their live retrieval would probably be dead, or worse - captives in some stupid breeding program in a dimension that he didn't even have anything to do with until he'd set foot in it mere hours ago.

One of the worker bees that Ricktus had hand-chosen from the hive tried to soothe him by grooming him, but he would not be cheered up by such a simple gesture; he was too consumed by his own thoughts taunting him with mental scenarios of different outcomes. Self-doubt and loathing clouded his mind, reaffirming the fact that he had failed at everything he had ever tried.

Rick B-526 himself was a total enigma to him; despite having nothing to gain out of assisting him on his retrieval mission, he had willingly come along anyway. His abrasive personality and erratic nature were standard Rick traits, but almost everything he did seemed to be for the benefit of others around him, even if it did not benefit him personally. That in itself frustrated the doctor – he simply could not comprehend how a Rick could simultaneously be an asshole, outwardly appearing to care little for anything other than himself, and yet somehow still be altruistic and selfless at the same time.

"God, he's so much better than me..." Ricktus berated himself through clenched teeth. "No wonder why the damn Council wants him so badly..."

Guilt was already creeping back in; Rick was now incapacitated as a direct result of his actions. His assistant had been right all along - it was irresponsible to have asked such a strenuous task of him; he was supposed to be under his watch so he could track symptoms and make him well again, but taking him out on the mission at all had been the exact opposite of that.

It was downright negligent.

To make matters worse, the second Rick he had been asked to retrieve wasn't faring much better; he'd shot himself in the neck during the escape in a failed attempt to commit suicide. Although Ricktus had successfully managed to keep him alive, he'd been forced to send him off to the Citadel infirmary almost as soon as they'd returned to the ship – the bullet had nicked his carotid artery and the injury was just far too severe for him to manage on his own.

Ricktiminus Sancheziminius was going to be pissed about having his Rick delivered in a less-than-desirable condition.

There was little that the doctor could do to ease his mind except rise to his feet and take off in the direction of his assistant's personal quarters; he needed to talk to him. Even once he was in the corridor of the barracks, he was reluctant; despite ordering Surgeon Rick to keep off his feet, he'd still needed him to pick up after his mistake. He was reminded of how indispensable he really was, and yet he treated him like garbage.

As his closed fist hovered over the door, he hesitated – he fully expected to be yelled at. At least it would be justified this time because he fully deserved it.


After collecting the biopsies he needed, Surgeon Rick portaled them off to his old workplace. He patched up his patient again, then hooked up his IV line with blood products and saline to rehydrate him. Because he knew the infusion process would take many hours, he left a short handwritten note and slipped out of the medi-bay room, leaving him to recover.

There was a very-cranky Morty impatiently waiting for him on the floor in the hallway. He'd managed to climb over the side of his crib in his boredom, but the unfamiliarity of the surrounding area had compelled him to stay nearby. The moment he saw the tall, spiky-haired figure, he let out an almighty scream to voice his unhappiness at being left alone for so long. Even though this person was not his favorite, he was still close enough for him to be completely fine with demanding his immediate attention.

"Whoa, hey there, little guy. How'd you manage that?" Surgeon Rick frowned as he reached down to scoop him up. "Holy shit, kid. You're being loud enough to rupture my eardrums... can you turn it down a few notches?" The frown grew further across his face. "I'd let you go in there and see your Rick, but you're probably stupid enough to rip out his IV lines. Let's go do something else, OK?"

"N-no!" Morty stuttered back in a loud, high-pitched voice; he'd decided that it was currently his favorite word.

"You're just being a punk now, aren't ya?" Surgeon Rick held him in one arm and wheeled the crib back down the corridor with the other, painfully limping the entire way. "You were being so awesome before and a couple more hours isn't going to hurt you. You wanna watch TV or play in the ball pit or some shit?"

"N-noo!" Morty yelled more definitively this time.

"No, as in you don't wanna watch TV, or no, you don't wanna play in the ball pit?"

"N-NO!"

Surgeon Rick didn't know whether to laugh or be frustrated; Morty certainly had the understanding of the word down, but with such a limited vocabulary, he couldn't quite work out how it was being applied. He gave up and let the little boy cry it out the whole way back to his personal quarters, figuring he'd be distracted by something else by the time they got there.

He was right; once they were back in his room, Morty was far more interested in trying to knock over the tower of blocks they'd built before he'd been called away to deal with the emergency situation at the portal hub.

The surgeon gratefully sank down on his couch and rested his injured ankle up on the coffee table while he watched Morty go on his destructive rampage with a vague pang of sadness; he'd now spent more time with this one to have known him better than his own grandson. He tried not to let the thoughts of his own family back in dimension C-711 bother him as he turned on the TV and watched the little boy out of the corner of his eye.

Morty was quite happy to play quietly for a while, but when the blocks became projectiles across the pathway of the TV screen, Surgeon Rick decided to put a stop to it.

"Yo, little guy. Don't do that, OK? You're gonna break something." Although it had been a long time since he had used the firm, parental tone, it still seemed to work; he observed Morty immediately stop what he was doing and he was satisfied. "Hah, still got it," he patted the space next to him on the couch. "Why don't you come sit with me up here instead?"

Morty clambered to his feet in an excited hurry. In three rushed steps, he reached the coffee table and went down again, banging his head on the corner as he landed on the floor in a heap. The loud wail that followed was predictable, though he was more upset about the abrupt shock over anything else.

"Aw, shit! NO!" Surgeon Rick forced himself off the couch again and moved over to tend to the issue. As he held the screaming youngster in his arms and examined him, he felt awful; he was supposed to be watching him and had already failed at it. He hobbled across the room for his first-aid kit and set Morty down on the bunk bed to deal with the outstanding injury; although it was just a small scratch and easily patched up, he guessed that Rick would be furious about it if his reaction to the microchipping process was anything to judge by.

Morty quietened down relatively quickly; simply being held and the attention was enough for him. Once the band-aid was applied to his forehead, he didn't even seem to notice and the incident was forgotten as he stared up at the spiky-haired figure still standing over him, demanding to be picked up again.

"Don't friggin' do that again!" Surgeon Rick sighed as he complied with the request and slowly made his way back to the couch. "Kid, you're gonna get me in so much trouble... how the hell am I gonna explain this one?" He ran two fingers over the band-aid to make sure it was stuck down properly, though it was more to mentally reassure himself that it wasn't that bad. "Your Rick is gonna be so pissed..."

Morty didn't understand the words and was confused by his tone; he didn't know what the big deal was. He hauled himself onto his feet again and poked the surgeon in the arm as he rambled off a string of nonsense at him.

"Yeah... I know, but," Surgeon Rick shook his head, "I'm not gonna let it go. I just got in good standing with your Rick. You can try telling him what you just said if you want, but it's probably not gonna work." He lowered his head and placed a hand on his forehead. "Fuck... I'm gonna be in so much trouble..."

He sat up again when he heard the loud knocking on his door.

"Ugh, one sec!" Surgeon Rick called out as he rose to his feet again. "You," he pointed sharply at Morty. "Stay there." He awkwardly walked across the floor to the doorway. After opening it, he was met with the sight of a very-subdued Ricktus, and his scowl deepened as much as he could make it; he really didn't want to see him right now. "The hell do YOU want? I'm not on the clock, so fuck off." He jabbed a finger on the button to close the door again.

"Can we talk?" Ricktus said hurriedly. His hand hovered over the override key and he mashed it as soon as the door started closing again; he had been anticipating that move. "As in, actually talk for once?"

Surgeon Rick's expression softened ever so slightly. "I-I guess...? Come in because I don't wanna stand around any longer than I have to." He turned around and headed back towards the couch.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor frowned when he realized just how injured his assistant still was; then again, he hadn't really had a chance to rest up. "Are you putting ice on it every couple of hours like you're supposed to?"

"Is that why you're here?" Surgeon Rick flopped back down on the couch next to Morty. "To give me a lecture? Can't you just post it online for me to read later?"

"Actually, I came to ask you how B-526 is doing..." Ricktus sat down on the other end of the couch as he tried to conceal his true feelings with a mask of stoicism, though the concern in his voice was already obvious. "I made you deal with it as I had bigger problems."

"He's resting up in the medi-bay," Surgeon Rick answered truthfully, "I hooked him up with two units of red-cells and oxygen therapy. He should be bouncing off the walls in about four hours from now. I can also set him up with anti-nausea medication, if you want. None of that stuff is gonna interfere with your data."

Ricktus raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Why did you do that?"

"Go have a look at the numbers from the last batch of bloodwork you did... his red-cell count was shittier than the one before it." Surgeon Rick replied simply. "I don't know what you're looking for at this point, but you're not gonna get some cool discovery or a new thing here. He was only asymptomatic before because you kinda did that yourself." The scowl returned to his face as he fixed his gaze on the TV. "If you don't step up and do something soon, he's gonna die. Do you think the big boss is gonna look kindly on you for killing not just a Rick, but the one he wanted specifically?"

The doctor sat patiently through his assistant's frustrations; as much as he wanted to interject, he didn't want to make him angrier. "I'll give him another 72 hours... I need more time to sit down in front of the data and think."

Surgeon Rick turned his glare back on his boss. "I hope you're not saying that just because I bought you the time. Don't be an idiot about it."

Ricktus sighed at him. "Do you need some vacation time after all this business is done with? You need rest, and you've gotten yourself far too involved in this case. It would do you some good to take a step back and think about something else for a while."

"It would do you some good to stop being such a high-and-mighty, condescending asshole!" Surgeon Rick retorted. "I'm not 'too involved'. Fuck you! That Rick is my bro now, a-and he would be cool with you too if you'd just get over yourself!"

"He's your bro," Ricktus repeated the words as he tried to make sense of them. "Are you going to be BFFs after this is over? Wake up to yourself, C-711... if he doesn't die here, then he's likely going to kill himself with his own stupidity anyway, or he's going to abandon you once he's done with us. He's only going to hurt you."

"Yeah, just like all the other Ricks I've made friends with, right?" Surgeon Rick spat the words back bitterly. "You know what you can do? Get the fuck out!"

"If that's what you want," Ricktus quietly replied, "but I actually came in here to apologize."

Surgeon Rick's hostility practically evaporated on the spot. "F-for what?"

"For being a dick. For not listening to you," Ricktus shrugged, "I-I don't know, help me out here... I'm not good with this. I prefer doing things rather than talking about them." He awkwardly glanced at the door and ran a hand through his hair; leaving felt like a pretty good idea now. "I'm sure you can probably understand how much of a hard-ass Riq IV is... and the burden of responsibility he's placed on my shoulders. But that's not your problem, it's mine. And you were right, it's... it's getting to me." He finally admitted. "I DO need a vacation."

Surgeon Rick was quiet; this was the most sincere conversation he'd gotten out of his boss in a long time. After another moment of silence, he picked up the remote and tossed it into his lap. "You wanna watch TV? Unprofessional wrestling is coming up in about twenty minutes. It's a repeat, but it's still pretty funny when the loser gets punched right in his smug face."

Ricktus slowly nodded in response but did not change the channel; although the gesture was small, it was still an invitation to stay, and it was all he needed.


Rick needed some time to work out where he was when he woke up at first. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above and sat up in a hurry, taking in his surroundings as it all flooded back to him; the live-retrieval mission, the incident in the hallway, and then the events that followed it. When he lowered his head to rub his eyes, there was a sharp snag in his right arm and he realized he was still hooked up to the IV line.

He studied it for a moment and then pried the tape off, carefully easing the shank of the needle out of his arm afterwards. When he found the note waiting for him on the table next to the bed, he picked it up to read.

"Hey,

Whenever you're ready, come find me and get your Morty back. All the shit you were carrying is back in your room. If you get asked about what happened here, don't talk about it or you're gonna screw everything up and get us both in trouble.

Finally, do me a huge solid and physically destroy this piece of paper.

Notes are stupid, yo,
- Rick C-711 (AKA: the cool one)"

After tearing the note up, Rick discarded the pieces and headed back to the barracks area of the ship. Once in his room, he changed into something more typical of his style and was at Surgeon Rick's door again, though he didn't bother to knock this time and simply let himself in.

Surgeon Rick was the first one to notice the new arrival, but did not move from his spot on the couch. "Oh hey, there you are! Glad to see you're finally up again." He flashed him his widest, friendly grin. "So how'd it work out? How are you holdin' up?"

"I'm fine." Rick replied. For once it wasn't a lie; he didn't feel dizzy or lethargic at all, and even slightly hungry. His attention drifted towards the other occupants on the couch – first to Morty, who hadn't noticed him yet, and then to Ricktus. He couldn't work out why he was there; he had no idea how much time had passed or what had happened in his absence, but if he was willingly sitting there outside of work, then he was obviously being tolerated or had been invited to stay.

"Yo," Surgeon Rick spoke up again, breaking the silence. "The fuck are you still standing there for? Sit down and join us, idiot."

"What's he doing here?" Rick grunted in the direction of the doctor; while he didn't care that much, him being there was going to make certain conversations difficult.

"Watching TV." Ricktus answered simply.

Rick's irritation spiked in an instant; it was a dumb question that deserved a dumb, obvious answer, and he made an annoyed grunt as he sat down in the space between them and next to Morty. "Hey, kiddo. Did you miss me?" As he spoke the words, he gently nudged the little boy in the arm.

Morty turned to look up, then gave a loud, happy squeal as he recognized him and launched himself into his grandfather's lap. Once settled, he clung to his shirt with both hands, determined not to let go.

Rick couldn't help but grin and his bad mood dissipated again. As he ruffled up the little boy's hair, he noticed the band-aid on his forehead. "Oh hey, what happened to you?"

"Shit, that's my fault," Surgeon Rick wasted no time with the confession. "I'm really sorry, bro... it was an accident. He tripped and I couldn't catch him in time. It's not bad, but-"

Rick dismissed it with a small wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it."

Surgeon Rick stared at him, wide-eyed. "For real? You're not mad?"

"Phh... why would I be? Kids are stupid. It's not like you went out of your way to beat him up." Rick mockingly narrowed his eyes. "Or did you?"

"Holy shit," Surgeon Rick sputtered the words out in a hurry. "N-no way, dude!"

"Chill, I'm just fucking with you." Rick was smirking now. "You got five minutes to talk in the hallway?"

Ricktus had been quietly sitting and listening to the conversation, not wanting to disrupt them or take part in it. However, the question was enough to make him speak up. "You still need to rest that ankle, C-711. You've barely had any time to stay off it."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Surgeon Rick bitterly retorted.

Ricktus didn't reply; it reminded him of how fragile the peace offering really was. Instead of making him move, he got to his feet and left the room himself.

"Ah, shit! Wait up, bro, I-I didn't mean it like that," Surgeon Rick was immediately sorry for the comment, but the door closed again before he could finish. "Dammit…"

Rick shrugged nonchalantly. "Why does it matter?"

"He was actually being cool, y'know?" The reply was etched with regret. "I got more than five words out of him for once..."

"You're trying to salvage a friendship that you didn't break in the first place?" Rick snorted derisively. "Fuck it, that's not even your job."

Surgeon Rick sighed heavily; he wanted to talk and unload the issues on his mind, but he also didn't want to be criticized and changed the subject instead. "What did you wanna ask me?"

"Did you get that plasma core yet?" Rick decided to get straight into it. "I'm gonna take off with Morty as soon as I can."

"Dude..." Surgeon Rick could have flattened him; he couldn't believe he was already thinking about leaving when he had been unconscious mere hours ago. "Are you actively trying to hurt yourself? I told you to take it easy!"

"Relax, d-bag," Rick tried to reassure him, "I'm only going back to Bird World to sort out a backup plan. I'm not gonna be running around on another... crazy, adrenaline-fueled adventure. I have friends there I gotta talk to. Nothing bad's gonna happen this time."

"Backup plan?" Surgeon Rick was curious now. "What do you need a plasma core for?"

"Ugh," the annoyed feeling was returning; Rick did not want to explain it. "There's a war brewing back in my dimension and I gotta take care of some stuff. It's for my own peace of mind, y'know? We're just gonna sit down and talk."

The answer did not lessen the surgeon's curiosity. "What about?"

"You're annoying," Rick bluntly told him. "If I told you that it's none of your business, would you still be a pain in my ass?"

"You kinda made it my business by asking me to do shit for you, bro." Surgeon Rick countered. "You think I wanna portal to wherever you pass out again and save your ass for what... is it the third or the fourth time now? I've lost count."

"Ugh, whatever." Rick grumbled. "If you're not gonna back off, then you might as well come with." He became quiet as the gears of thought turned over in his head. "Hmm, you'd actually be useful in helping me enact it if it comes to."

"Enact what?" Surgeon Rick narrowed his eyes; now he was confused as well. "What the hell are you thinking, brother? Talk to me."

"Remember how you said that if I ever needed anything done, you'd do it with no questions asked? Well, you'd be doing me a real solid if you come with and agree to what I'm gonna explain to the rest of them." Rick carefully picked Morty up and got to his feet. "All you'd have to do is sit there, shut up, and listen."

"Uh... OK?" The surgeon didn't know if he wanted to agree or not; part of him wanted to press him for more details, but he figured he'd get them anyway if he was patient enough.

"Good," Rick accepted the answer and headed for the door. "Get me that plasma core and meet me in my room when you're ready. I'll gather what shit I need in the meantime, and then we'll get the hell outta here."

Surgeon Rick nodded in reluctant agreement. "You're just sitting there and talking, right?"

Rick stopped in the open doorway. "Mostly. There may be some yelling involved as well, but I'm not sure how they'll react. Oh, and where we're going is tropical and humid, i-it's gross. You'll wanna dress for it."

"Wait... who's they?" Surgeon Rick asked, but his only answer was silence as he was left alone in the room.


The scientist impatiently waited in his room for the other version of himself to deliver on the goods while he gathered everything he had built and needed for the trip back to Bird World. By the time the surgeon had hobbled into the room, Rick was lying down on his bunk bed, allowing himself to drift into deep thought.

What he was planning was only a last resort, but it was the best idea he had for the time being.

If the inhabitants of Bird World were going to involve themselves in the Galactic Federation's hostilities again, then they were likely to be vulnerable to the same kind of attack that had rendered planet Earth completely lifeless. While he didn't care much for the majority of Bird World's population, Birdperson was a different story; he'd had already lost his family to the Federation and would be devastated if he lost his best friend as well.

He didn't even notice the other version of himself standing over him at the side of the bunk bed.

"Hey loser, are you alive in there?" Surgeon Rick half-teased, half-grumped. When he didn't get a response, he sharply jabbed him in the shoulder with a finger. "Yo!"

Rick jumped slightly and turned to glare up at him. "Y-yeah, yeah... go away." He swatted a hand out to shove him aside and stood up. "You got it?"

"Uh-huh," Surgeon Rick nodded as he took out the plasma core to show off. "You gonna fill me in yet?"

"I told you to relax," Rick rolled his eyes and picked up his portal gun from its place on the table in the middle of the room along with the bag he had packed for the journey ahead. "It's much easier to explain it once to everyone at the same time." After recalling the coordinates to the front door of Birdperson's tree house in his native dimension, he fired it at the space in front of him.

Surgeon Rick couldn't help himself and blurted out the next question on his mind. "Are you gonna blow the core up?"

"Phh, no. I'm gonna put it in this," the scientist gathered up the parts of the near-complete, secondary portal gun he had been working on, along with the smaller device and everything else he needed and stuffed them into the bag.

"Wait, you made another portal gun? What for?" Surgeon Rick stared at him incredulously; he knew he should keep nagging Rick to take it easy and didn't know why he was so willingly going along with it. Then again, he'd been talked into worse things with less information beforehand.

"Ugh, stop bugging me!" Rick snapped back; he was on the verge of losing his temper by now. "Wait until we're on the other side. I hate repeating myself!" He moved back across to the bunk bed where Morty was lounging on top of the covers and hauled him up under one arm so he could carry him off. "Come on, buddy. We're leaving."

While Morty hadn't wanted to be moved, he didn't care much about what was happening to him either. When he approached the swirling green vortex this time, he reached out with both hands towards it, admiring the pretty colors; it had finally stopped being scary.


December 1st, 6:20am, Local Time, 2001
Birdperson's Tree House
Bird World, Dimension B-526


The morning air was crisp and cool on Bird World; a rainstorm had recently passed through the area and had drawn the humidity and latent heat out of the air from the night before.

Surgeon Rick immediately surveyed his surroundings. He hadn't taken part in Rick's abduction so he'd never actually been there before; he'd only learned about it through reading his boss's reports and capture plan. When Rick moved in through the front door, he hurriedly limped after him, not wanting to be left alone outside in case the local inhabitants were hostile.

Birdperson's living room was devoid of the shipping crates from the last visit and looked as it had always been, save for the fact that Squanchy had moved in some of his own furniture during his time away.

Rick set Morty and his bag down next to what looked suspiciously like some kind of scratching post; it was too short to be of Bird World origin. "You can sit down and take a load off, if you want," he suggested as he glared at all the differences that now existed in the room. "There won't be much to do until they're all awake."

Surgeon Rick flopped down onto the couch with a relieved sigh; he was still hurting and hadn't even thought to bring painkillers with him. "Well, thank fuck for that..."

They didn't have long to wait; not even ten seconds later, Squanchy came in through the front door, carrying a small lizard he had killed for breakfast. His first reaction was a joyful cheer as he saw Rick and he opened his mouth to say something, only to make a dumb sound as his gaze drifted across to the second one. As he backed up towards the door, the sound was escalated to a loud yowl.

"Squanchin' hell, Sanchez!" The feline yelped in surprise. "Nice of you to come back without saying anything, but now there's TWO of you?! Did you clone yourself?"

"Wait, you left without saying goodbye? And you didn't explain the multiverse to him?" Surgeon Rick gave his dimensional counterpart an apprehensive, sideways glance. "This is supposed to be a friend, right?"

"Let's not get carried away there." Rick grumbled in reply. He took two steps towards the short feline creature and raised a hand up in the attempt to stop him. "Chill, Squanchy. This is, uh..." He went quiet as he pondered how best to explain.

Squanchy wasn't listening. He dropped the lizard he was carrying and sprang across the floor as he called out to Birdperson, practically yelling by the time he was in the hallway. "Hey BP, wake up! You gotta come see this squanch!" He disappeared into the main bedroom of the tree house.

Rick rubbed his temples and made a loud, frustrated groan. "Well, that's one way to start the day..."

Two minutes later, Birdperson was standing over the back of the couch and staring down at the newcomer with a vague expression that almost resembled anger. The feathers on his neck were ruffled and his posture was poised and ready to strike. "Rick," he stated, his voice as monotone as it had ever been, "I will pin this one down while he is distracted so you can run. If you need to-"

"H-hey!" Surgeon Rick loudly protested. "The fuck you gonna do that for?! What did I ever do to you?"

"Back off, BP!" Rick sharply commanded. "You're not gonna do anything. He's with me."

Birdperson relaxed slightly, but did not move from his position. "This appears to be a parallel version of yourself, Rick. Is this the one that abducted you and shot me out of the sky?"

"That wasn't me, yo!" Surgeon Rick shrank in his posture, not liking the fact that the larger male was still looming over him. "That was my boss, I'm just the guy who follows orders. It wouldn't even be a fair fight if you kick my ass 'cause I-I'm kinda injured down here. Come on!"

"Yeah, it really wouldn't be fair," Rick tried again. "Relax, BP, he's cool. I actually brought him here so I could go over some shit with you all. Y'know, get you on the same page and all that." He lightly shrugged his shoulders. "So the Squanches are still here, right? Are they gonna be around for much longer, o-or what? What's going on there? What are the Feds doing now?"

Birdperson ignored his queries as he moved to stand in front of the couch. His expression returned to its typical neutrality as he stared down at the surgeon. "You are injured? Where?"

Surgeon Rick closely tracked the feathery male's every movement, not at all certain if he could trust him or not. "I was running after a... uh, a guy. I tripped over and got my foot stuck in a grate." He indicated to his right ankle with a pointed finger, not willing to move it unless necessary. "So like, you're an actual bird person? Shit, you even have the wings and feathers and everything. I didn't realize Rick was being so... literal. That can't possibly be your actual name, bro."

"I am not your brother and we are hardly related," Birdperson calmly told him, "but yes. My first name is," the sentence erupted into a short song of screeches and chirrups. "And my surname is," he ended it a long, resonate whistle. "If you find this unpronounceable as Rick does, then 'Birdperson' is acceptable."

"Uh..." Surgeon Rick scratched the back of his head. "I dunno, feels kinda disrespectful, dude. That would kinda be like calling me 'spiky-haired douchebag'."

"I find the name to be perfectly agreeable." Birdperson appeared content with his long-term title. "Do you have an alternative name, seeing as though you are also a Rick?"

Squanchy stepped forward, his tail-puff bristled in agitation. "Hold it, guys! I still don't get it," he stood next to Birdperson and bared his pointy teeth at the newcomer. "So if you're not a clone, then what are you? Like, Sanchez's long lost brother or some squanch? How do we even know if you're legit?" He growled up at Birdperson. "I say we tie him up now and interrogate him!"

"For what? What did I do to you other than look like your best friend and exist?" Surgeon Rick scowled. "If this is how you're gonna roll, then I'm outta here. Screw this!" He painfully hauled himself to his feet.

"Hey, wait up!" Rick spoke up, his irritation rising. "Look, can't you both just trust me on this one? Use your damn brains. Do you think I would have brought him here if I thought he was dangerous? Leave him alone, OK? He's cool with me."

Birdperson silently nodded in respectful acceptance; if Rick was fine with it, then it was enough for him. Meanwhile, Squanchy still seemed apprehensive and skulked off into the kitchen.

A wide grin grew across Surgeon Rick's face as he sank back down on the couch again. "Oh man, you think I'm cool?"

"Phh, don't let it get to your head." Rick grumpily told him as he began to idly pace across the floor, pondering how best to go through the next steps ahead. "Birdperson, go get your neighbor. What I need to say to you all is pretty damn important and I'd like her to be here. I need you all to shut up and listen, I-I..." His voice became quiet and serious. "This is gonna be hard for me, so I'll need your help."

"Rick, what is happening?" Birdperson's left eyebrow raised ever so slightly in inquisition. "Are you still unwell?" He stepped forward to give the space in front of the scientist a delicate sniff.

Rick glared hard at him and backed away. "S-stop that! Just go get your neighbor, OK? Is that so much to ask?" He paused in thought. "Wait, is it too early? What time is it?"

"While the sun is still rising, I am more than certain that she will be willing to do whatever you wish, including coming here at any hour of the day." Birdperson calmly explained as he headed for the door. "I shall deal with your injured parallel version upon my return."

Surgeon Rick watched him go with a heavy frown on his face. "Great... what's he gonna do to me? I don't need someone else doting over me like I'm a cripple."

"Let him look at you, idiot." Rick grumpily instructed him. "It's a cultural thing for them to nurture and tend to the injured members of their flock. It's also a survival thing... if you can't fly, you can't eat." He paused in thought. "And yeah, before you mention it, I know we can't fly. It's more the principle and the thought that counts."

Surgeon Rick slowly shook his head. "Less than five minutes ago he was gonna beat me up... now he wants to help me? Tell him to make up his mind."

"I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to," Rick sank down next to him on the couch and lowered his head. "That's the problem."

Surgeon Rick raised an eyebrow, confused all over again. "Huh? What the hell are you even going on about?"

Rick did not answer.

Within the next five minutes, Birdperson returned to the tree house with Gresharak in tow. Although she had been warned about the situation prior to coming inside, it still didn't stop her from openly staring at the two near-identical humans on the couch.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Surgeon Rick was the first one to speak. "Are you gonna kick my ass, too?"

"Do not mind me," Gresharak promptly apologized for herself, having realized that staring might be thought of as rude. "It is just that you look like siblings from the same clutch."

"Oh geez, you didn't explain the multiverse to her either?" Surgeon Rick lightly thumped Rick in the side with his elbow. "What kinda friend are you?"

Rick let out a weary sigh. "I-it's gonna be a long day..."

"OK, listen the fuck up because I'm only gonna explain this once," Surgeon Rick loudly declared, "I'm not a sibling or a clone. I like to think of these guys as my brothers and from a genetic standpoint we're identical, but... there's actually more to it than that. Up until a certain point, this guy and I were the same dude. Then I made my own decision and broke away on my own separate-branch dimension, and that's how the multiverse works. Any questions?"

"You are the same person?" Gresharak seemed incredibly confused.

"I'm the same person with my own personal set of experiences." Surgeon Rick casually stated as if it were simple fact. "Which makes me not the same person at all. Forget 'brother from another mother', it's more like 'brother from another place in time and space'."

Gresharak did not look any less puzzled.

Surgeon Rick was about to add more to his statement, at least until the only dominating factor of his awareness was blinding pain; Birdperson had seated himself down on the floor in front of him during his talk and was now gently unraveling the bandage he had been using to immobilize his injury. "H-hey, hey! What the fuck are you doing!? OW! Stop it!"

"Let him do his thing, buddy." Rick told him. He couldn't tell if he was genuinely hurting that badly, if he was just being vocal, or if he had a low-pain-tolerance threshold; so very much unlike him in that regard.

Birdperson persisted through his patient's protests until he had exposed the ankle. "This joint appears to be swollen and heavily congested with blood. I will do my best to alleviate your suffering, but you will need to continue to take care of yourself in the same way after I have finished." He opened a jar of salve he had brought with him and liberally applied it to the affected area.

Surgeon Rick's initial reaction was little more than a pained moan, which soon gave way to soft noises of relief. He didn't know what was in the substance and didn't care; the pain was rapidly subsiding and it was all that mattered to him. "Holy shit," he closed his eyes as his head lulled back onto the cushions behind him. "I am SO stealing that when you're not looking..."

Birdperson picked up the bandage to rebind the injury. "Take it with you. It is not difficult to prepare and is always readily available here on Bird World." He stood on his feet again and recapped the jar. "However, I suspect that is not why you are here," he cast his gaze back across the room, "Rick. Everyone is here as you requested. When you are ready, I would like to hear you speak."

While Rick was certainly listening, he didn't respond; he had gotten to his feet again and resumed his slow pacing. His brows were knitted in concentration and he was deep in thought, mentally preparing ahead for all the things he needed to say. Internally, he was also near-panicking; he wasn't sure how the group would react and even if they would agree to any of it. With a heavy sigh, he came to a halt and decided to just start; there was very little else he could do otherwise.

"I need you all to shut up and listen... what I'm about to say is r-really important, and if you interrupt me, it's only going to take even longer. In fact, why don't we just save the questions until the end?" He picked up the bag he had left at the door and set it down on the coffee table. "You still got the core?"

Surgeon Rick snapped back to reality and sat up properly so he could drop it down beside the bag. "Uh-huh. Just don't ask me how I got it, OK? I don't wanna get into trouble for this, too."

As Rick stared back, he wondered where he had actually sourced it from. In the next moment he shrugged it off; he had more important things on his mind. After pulling out the portal-gun parts, he began to quickly assemble them with a handheld soldering gun that he had brought along. "Birdperson, I don't know what the Galactic Federation is up to and I don't know their next move, but you're all a hell of a lot safer without me... if they ever come back to Bird World and everything goes to shit, then I need you to use this and get the fuck outta here. Just... grab whoever you can, including this one," he made a point of glaring at Gresharak, "and just run for it. Do you hear me?"

Birdperson carefully considered the question; while he understood the logic behind it, he did not like the suggestion at all. "Do you really think they will do the same to my planet as they did to yours? I cannot abandon my people, Rick. My species is not as adaptive as yours and I am not certain that I can survive without them."

"You'd be amazed what you can live through..." Rick's voice was distant as he finished the portal gun and took out the next device; a small beacon that looked hauntingly similar to the one that had been issued to him by the Council of Ricks. "Hopefully it doesn't get to that. In the meantime, use this if you need it. I backwards engineered it from something I already own, but if you press the activation button, it'll send a distress signal straight to me no matter where I am." He pressed the button and held up his own portal gun to demonstrate. "If the idea of running away like a coward doesn't appeal to you, then just use this to summon me. I'll come running as long as I still can... just don't die in the meantime, OK?"

Birdperson nodded; the second suggestion was far more agreeable to him. However, the last part of Rick's statement caused him great concern. "While you still can? I do not understand, Rick. Are you dying?"

"Oh geez, I sure hope not!" Surgeon Rick sharply interjected. "I just got finished trying out a different avenue, but it's gonna take a few days before the results come back. At the end of the day it's your call, bro. But at least let me finish persuing that first, OK?"

Rick didn't answer and moved away to retrieve Morty from his hiding place.

Gresharak looked upset with the direction the conversation was taking but did not speak; she hadn't known the human nearly as long as some of the others in the room and figured there would be time to add her own input later.

Birdperson's eyes were locked on the surgeon now. "You are trying to help Rick? You should have said so in the first place. I will assist you in any way I can. Are you a medic?"

"Hah, kinda?" Surgeon Rick dryly laughed. "Except I'm better. A surgeon is like, an advanced-tier medic that actually does useful stuff."

Birdperson seemed puzzled by the word; he hadn't heard it before. "What is a... 'sur-geon'?"

"A bad career choice, yo!" Surgeon Rick cheerfully declared, trying to make light of the situation. When he did not get the desired response, he grumpily folded his arms. "Well, you guys are lame. Anyway, whatever... the dude's not gonna die. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Are you dying, Rick?" Birdperson pushed the question again; he wanted to hear it from from his friend firsthand.

"Everything dies eventually, Birdperson." Rick sidestepped the answer as he carried Morty back to the coffee table. "If it comes to that, then I-I need you to take care of my grandson for me. Use Big-Ass Momma Bird's help and draw on her parental expertise if you have to. Use the portal gun to find humans in other dimensions and show him what they're like, otherwise he's gonna think he's all alone... and when he's old enough, tell him what happened. I mean, literally tell him everything. If he wants to hate me for what I've done, then let him... just don't sugarcoat anything because I'm not a hero." He finally looked back up at Surgeon Rick. "You think you could drop him off here if I can't?"

"Aw shit, dude. Way to put me on the spot like that... this is SO friggin' messed up. If I had known this was where you were going, I-I would have thought twice about coming." Surgeon Rick was deeply conflicted; he wanted so badly to launch into a rant and tell Rick that he was going to do everything within his power to keep him alive. On the other hand, he knew that he had to respect his wishes no matter what; the Citadel even had official protocols in place to ensure that a Rick's final wishes were carried out. "Y-yeah." He finally agreed with a great degree of reluctance.

"Good," Rick nodded, seeming much calmer now that he had gotten it all off his chest. "Now, before you go telling me that you don't know how to navigate the universe, I've already thought about that part ahead of time." Rummaging through the bottom of the bag, he took out the holo-projector he had stolen from the electronics lab. "Space-faring travelers use these when they wanna go somewhere. I've preprogramed a bunch of useful coordinates into it for you already, and it's just a matter of entering in the rest."

As Birdperson watched on, a vague sense of concern came over him. For as long as he had known Rick, he'd always treated technology like it was an extension of his biology. Everything seemed to come naturally to him, even if he was looking at it for the first time; it was just another thing that made him so intelligent compared to the rest of the universe. Meanwhile, Birdperson could barely work a device unless it had an on-and-off switch. He had no idea how to teach or encourage such an adaptive trait in Morty, or even if it was possible to do so.

Rick became increasingly irritated as he flicked through the generated holograms; the coordinates had been entered in exactly as he remembered them, but all the holo-projector would display was floating rubble. "Man, this thing must be more busted than I thought..." He finally brought up the solar system and planet Earth just to make sure it was still working, then furrowed his brows in thought as the display sprang to life with crystal-clear clarity.

Morty immediately tried to climb his grandfather's legs to attack the pretty light show.

"How am I supposed to use this, Rick?" Birdperson asked finally. "How much time do you have left, and how much can you allocate to teaching me?"

"I said save the questions for the end..." Rick grumpily muttered as he flicked through the list of coordinates again, bringing up the one that would display Bird World.

Once again, the holo-projector displayed nothing but scattered rubble drifting through the abyss of space.

"Is this device predicting what is to come?" Birdperson's emotionless voice had grown quiet as he watched on.

"N-no... it's nothing more than a regular old 3D map. It's only showing what already exists." Rick checked the display yet again; the coordinate was indeed correct. He turned the device off and flipped it over to work out the source of the problem, but found it immediately; it was still configured to Dimension Q-316. "Well, shit... what the hell is happening over there?"

Surgeon Rick had been patiently sitting through the demonstration, though there was little he could do to lighten the mood. "I can grab another from HQ if you want it that bad," he offered. "It wouldn't be hard to set to whatever dimension you wanna look at."

Rick turned to face him, his expression firm, yet uneasy. "I don't want another one. I wanna know what's going on with this one." He held up the holo-projector again and flipped through the preprogrammed coordinates as he mentioned their locations. "Bird World is toast, planet Squanch is gone, too... e-even the Traflorkian system and its three moons are nothing more than space carnage! What the hell is your boss running from, a-and what is the meaning of this shit?!"

"Whoa, cool it, dude!" Surgeon Rick raised both hands in surrender. "I told you before, I don't know. I just work for the guy, I-I don't know much about his dimensional dramas or personal life other than what little he's told me himself. You probably know more than I do by now."

The comment seemed to calm Rick a little, but it still didn't stop him from slamming the holo-projector down onto the coffee table in a huff. "It just stresses the point of how important this is!" His attention returned to Birdperson. "Don't you get it?! If this can happen on other timelines, then you better believe it's gonna happen on ours, too!"

"Rick, I really do not think-"

"Don't think about it. Just do it!" Rick sharply interjected. "Keep that portal gun and beacon on you at all times. Whatever happens to me, you gotta look out for number one!"

The only indication of Birdperson's mood was his rigid posture; Rick's harsh words only served as more of a motivator for him to rejoin the fight against the Federation. "I will do everything I can to keep my people safe, Rick. If using your portal gun to evacuate them to another world is what it takes, then so be it."

Rick glanced at Gresharak, then at Surgeon Rick. He shook his head to try and clear it, then finally settled his attention back on Birdperson as he calmed down again, satisfied with his answer. "Well... good, because you're going to need it regardless of what happens to me."

"Rick, I do not understand," Birdperson spoke again. "You said so yourself in your previous talks with me that Morty needs to grow up around humans. If you are unwilling to leave him in the care of another on Bird World and rejoin the fight against the Federation, then why are you fine with leaving him with us if you pass away?"

Rick buried his head in his hands and groaned in frustration; it was a perfectly logical question that deserved an honest answer, so he gave it readily. "Because it's the only solution I have right now."

"Are you SURE you don't wanna leave him with another Rick, bro?" Surgeon Rick urged him. "I mean, I'd offer, but, well... don't even ask about what's going down with the family back in my dimension. And then the boss doesn't really have his own-"

Rick already knew where the sentence was going and sharply cut him off. "No!" He gritted his teeth and turned on him in a sudden fury. "NO WAY! He's the LAST person I want to deal with it!" He sharply turned on his heels and shoved the front door open as he stormed out of the tree house.

"Aw shit, wait up!" Surgeon Rick called out as he began to rise to his feet. "We can talk about this!"

"Leave him be for now." Birdperson placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated. "For as long as I have known Rick, he has always had an explosive temper like this. Giving him the time to calm down allows him to become level-headed and reasonable once again. This pattern of behavior seems to become more unpredictable when he is inebriated."

"Geez, how dense are you?" Surgeon Rick stared up at him in disbelief. "You think that's a temper tantrum? He's still dealing with all his shit... it's a coping mechanism. So is the alcoholism, but I don't think he even brought anything with him to drink this time. I think he's actually sober right now? I don't know."

Birdperson's feathers ruffled as he retracted his hand; he'd always thought of himself as perceptive and didn't appreciate being told otherwise. "He is still grieving?"

With a soft noise of mockery, Surgeon Rick made his reply. "Ya think? More like it's barely begun. Imagine that everything's fine one day, and then everyone around you dies the next. Then discovering it's all your fault and having to bear the burden of wiping out your entire species? He was already looking for reasons to bother staying alive, but to get thrown a curve ball on top of all that is like, shit... a lesser man would have cracked by now."

Birdperson glanced back at the door. "How would one appropriately deal with a grieving human? I fear that I have been failing at it this entire time."

Surgeon Rick awkwardly scratched the back of his head; it was such a heavy question with a vast array of answers and none of them would have been particularly correct considering the type of person Rick was. He finally gave the other a small, resigned sigh. "I dunno... you tell me." He was suddenly quiet. "Wait, how high up are we? We're not just gonna leave him out there, right?"

Birdperson walked over to the door and peered through the glass panel in the attempt to allay his fears. "He appears to be seated. This is something I have seen him do for hours on end." He stepped away from the door again. "Do not worry about it. Although we are easily twenty feet off the ground, I have witnessed Rick jump off my balcony multiple times without sustaining injuries when he hits the bottom."

"Good," Surgeon Rick muttered. "Fuckin' crazy-ass bastard..."

Gresharak took a look at the other two, then silently got to her feet and headed out the door for herself; perhaps a slightly different approach was necessary.


Rick huddled in a seated position on the edge of the landing with his knees drawn up to his chest. He sat that way just because he could, and to make himself more comfortable; the pain in his abdomen had returned and was now a constant dull ache that radiated into his chest. Although he'd already patted himself down to look for a hip flask, he already knew there was no reason to bother; the last time he drank, it made him sick before his body could absorb the alcohol content. If he couldn't even enjoy the perks of his long-term habit, then it was completely pointless. When he finally found the item in his top coat pocket, he angrily pitched it over the edge of the balcony, but the dull clattering sound it made when it hit the ground below didn't make him feel any better.

His initial reaction was little more than a soft, warning grunt when he heard Gresharak come outside to join him; he'd escaped out there because it had all become too much for him to cope with, and the last thing he wanted was company.

"It is going to be a pleasant day, yes? If the rains persist like they have, then we can expect to have a good growing season." Gresharak offered as she sat down next to him.

Rick did not look up. "Get lost." His expression hardened; he had wanted time alone with his thoughts and this was the exact opposite of that.

"You never did provide an opportunity to ask questions," Gresharak tried again, "I am sure that your friends had many things they wanted to ask you."

"There wasn't much point," Rick replied tersely, "I asked questions, everyone complied. I got done what I needed to."

"You are very strange. Do you know that?"

Rick did not answer this time; it was an obvious attempt at trying to open a line of dialogue about himself, which he didn't want. His desire to be alone was becoming stronger by the second and he was already considering jumping off the edge of the platform.

"I have noticed something very interesting occurring, you know."

Rick subtly inched closer towards the edge.

"You are growing up."

It was enough to make him stop. "Wait, what?"

"You are growing up." Gresharak repeated herself. "At first I thought you were a selfish creature, but I was wrong. The more I learn of you, the more I like you. You place the welfare of others well above your own, and the requests you made inside were an extension of that occurring in greater detail. You were doing more than thinking about the safety of one person. It was an insurance policy for your grandson and for our entire flock. You have come a long way since I first met you."

"You don't know me," Rick admonished her, "I-I don't care what you've observed or what you think... that's always how it's been."

"If that is so, then I openly admit to being wrong. However, what you said did not feel complete," Gresharak continued. "What do you plan to do with yourself?"

And there it was; more than obvious this time. He knew the question should have annoyed him, but it didn't. There was little point in sidestepping the issue either; he'd burdened her with the prospect of raising his grandson and she deserved to know the truth. "I-I don't know if I'm gonna be around long enough to need much more of a plan... but it's only one possibility. Always have a backup plan."

"If you could save yourself, would you?"

Rick was silent for a long time before answering; it was certainly not going to be a simple answer. "I-I don't know."

"I was not always a part of the northern flock, you know." Gresharak sat up tall and seemed to find the same comfort that Rick did in staring off into nothingness. "My family came from an island in the southern region of the planet. We lived in the rainforest among some of the oldest trees on Bird World. When the resistance was deployed to Glapflap's third moon, we were still dealing with residual Federation forces back here on Bird World. Thanks to you, we had the firepower to defeat their last stronghold and the only option they had left was to retreat." Her voice broke momentarily, but she found the strength to continue. "As they fled, they set fire to our homes, and the island was razed to the ground. Many died and we were forced to leave our homes. Like you, I arrived as a refugee, but the northern flock accepted us all the same."

Rick attentively listened in silence; it was just another of the many stories he'd heard about the atrocities committed on Bird World.

"Why are they so intent on destroying us?" The bird woman's voice was hollow and her eyes were unfocused. "They will not stop until they have control of everything."

"P-pretty much..." Rick mumbled. "Sounds like my shit - what they did to you was in spite. You weren't even in their way." He paused as he finally looked up at her, his expression suppressed and near unreadable. "Why are you telling me this...?"

"Because my flock has treated me as family and I will pay it forward. You asked for my help in raising your grandson and my answer is yes." Gresharak's answer was just above a whisper. "For as long I live and breathe, I will do everything within my power to protect those who live here."

Rick's posture became stiff as a board; it was the answer he wanted, but he still didn't feel worthy of it. "M-Morty would have a good life here... it doesn't matter that he'd never be able to fly. If he ends up being like me, he'll find his own workarounds, a-and..." He swallowed a hard lump in his throat; he didn't want Morty to be anything like him.

A horrible thought suddenly penetrated his consciousness; if Morty was going to grow up to be like him, then maybe his brainwave pattern would become as traceable as his own as well.

"O-oh god... no..." Rick hugged himself around the middle; he had already been huddled up and couldn't bunch up tighter than he already was. The thought of Morty dooming himself to the same kind of life as him hurt to the core; he didn't want him to make the same mistakes, and he couldn't even steer him away from making them if he wasn't going to be around to see him grow up. Out of habit, he fumbled through his coat pockets, but now he couldn't even drink if he wanted to because he'd been stupid enough to throw his flask away.

The scientist was so distracted that he didn't hear the sound of ruffling feathers as they slowly extended out behind him. Suddenly, his vision was obscured by a blur of blues and teals; he was literally being sheltered by the underside of Gresharak's wing.

"Whatever happens, just know that your family is here for you, and that you do not have to suffer alone." The bird mother's voice was quiet and sincere as she wrapped her wing around him in the same way she would do to one of her hatchlings. "No matter where you go, you will always have a home here."

Perhaps it was because it wasn't a hug; Rick was so heavily guarded that he hadn't been able to accept one of those in a long time. Perhaps being enveloped in warmth and having his senses blocked out helped as well, and although it didn't quell the fears over his grandson, it was still enough to start calming him down again.

"The decision you make is your own." Gresharak told him in a reassuring voice.

The muffled voice under the wing finally uttered a small, pathetic declaration. "I-I don't want to die..."

Although pleased by the response, the bird mother said nothing; there was nothing else she needed to say and simply stood there until she was satisfied that the human was properly calm again. In another moment, she withdrew her wing and used it to launch herself several feet into the air, thrusting it downward again as she took off and flew away.

As Rick watched the feathered form disappear over the line of the trees, he finally got what he had wanted in the first place; to be alone and to have time to think. And although he now had an urgent desire to do some investigation into Morty's mind, he felt like he'd finally chosen something right for once.


By the time Rick felt ready enough to come back inside, he was met with the sight of Surgeon Rick engaged in an enthusiastic conversation with both Birdperson and Squanchy. Not only was he totally into it, but the other two seemed to be as well.

"Nah, that's what I'm sayin'... the drums might be the heartbeat, but the bass is the soul. People don't have souls, but music does. In fact where I come from, there's a whole music genre called that." Surgeon Rick became smug. "Look it up."

"Squanch me," Squanchy laughed as he cuffed him in the shoulder with a paw. "Now you're just bullshitting us!"

"No, really!" Surgeon Rick took out his portal gun. "Do you want me to go grab you an encyclopedia? I swear I'm not making this shit up."

"I have no reason to doubt the validity of his claims." Birdperson patiently dispensed his own opinion. "Here on Bird World we have a genre of music called," the sentence erupted into a string of trills and whistles.

Folding his arms across his chest, Rick moved to stand in the middle of the room; they'd certainly been busy during his time-out. "Well, you sure got over your differences quickly..." He shot a semi-serious glare in Surgeon Rick's direction. "Are you trying to steal my friends now?"

Squanchy sprang off the couch and bounded over to Rick. "Hey Sanchez, we're leaving in another week and I got a crazy idea. Why not take this guy with us and get the band back together? We can go back undercover, and heck... remember how you were always squanchin' on about needing a bassist? No-one's gonna know the difference between you and him. Think about how great it'd be!"

"You really think the Feds are stupid enough to fall for that shit again?" Rick narrowed his eyes at Surgeon Rick, glaring even harder. "Don't tell me you actually know how to play?"

"Buddy... please. Infinite realities and you think you're the only Rick who knows how to belt out a few strings? Keep dreaming over there." Surgeon Rick matched his expression. "I'm probably not as good as you, but I don't suck at it either. Who do you think owns the acoustic Fender guitar in your room? Thanks for not breaking it, by the way."

In his excitement, Squanchy bounded back across the room, clearly wound up by the places his thoughts were taking him. "Think of the possibilities! Reunion tours and reconnecting with our old contacts," his expression turned predatory, "and all the tail we can squanch?"

Rick's expression was openly annoyed. "No."

Squanchy's face immediately fell in disappointment. "Why not?"

"Because NO, that's why! We've already had this conversation and my answer hasn't changed." Rick scowled back at him. "Besides... the Gromflomites can track me down anywhere across the universe. It's better for everyone if I'm not even here."

"You keep saying that, but I do not understand, Rick." Birdperson informed him. "Please explain yourself."

"He's actually not wrong," Surgeon Rick answered this time instead. "It's in our biology. Our brains make us fucking amazing, but it's like a gift and a curse. Ricks are a prime target for being attacked, stolen, murdered, and whatever other bullshit you can think of. We've kinda got it real bad out there."

Birdperson did not seem pleased with the answer.

"I'm done," Rick bluntly declared, sounding more like an overtired child than anything else. "I don't wanna be here anymore."

Surgeon Rick slowly pushed himself to his feet, finding it much easier to stand this time. "Then go, buddy. I'm only here because you asked me to come."

"Good," Rick spoke the words unkindly to Birdperson as he took out his portal gun. "Bye."

"Rick," Birdperson took two hasty steps towards him. "Come back often and keep us informed. In spite of your opinion regarding the situation developing here, I would still like to hear from you as the status of your health is rather concerning to me."

"W-whatever... I'm taking this." Rick snatched up the holo-projector and fired a portal at the wall opposite him; the last thing he wanted was to talk about himself again for a long time. "Come on, Morty... let's hit it."

Morty clumsily stepped in front of his grandfather and curiously peered at the swirling portal before him. Although he was definitely getting braver, he still wasn't quite ready to step into it yet.

Rick rolled his eyes and extended a foot to nudge him the rest of the way through. "Hurry the fuck up," he shot a glare in Surgeon Rick's direction. "Are you coming, o-or what?"

Surgeon Rick sighed; while he understood Rick's bad mood, he didn't want to leave on such a sour note. "Hey." He moved to stand in front of Birdperson and extended a closed fist out towards him.

Birdperson's attention was fixed on his hand, not knowing what to do with it. After a moment of silence, he tentatively mimicked the action, figuring it was some kind of human cultural thing.

Surgeon Rick responded with a wide grin and gently bumped his knuckles against Birdperson's. "I'll make sure he keeps you updated. Otherwise I'll kick his ass, yo! You guys are awesome." He stepped towards the portal. "Later, fuckers!"

Birdperson was left staring at the wall after the portal disintegrated in their departure; the friendliness of the human gesture wasn't lost on him, but it was still strange.


December 1st, 9:30pm, Local Ship Time, 2001
Unnamed Nebula, Space
'Verdant Harbinger', Dimension Q-316


"Yo, wait up!"

Rick gritted his teeth as he briskly moved away from the portal hub; all he wanted to do was retreat. He scowled down at the holo-projector in his hands, deeply troubled by what it had displayed earlier - he wanted answers.

"Are you deaf? I said wait the fuck up!"

Rick rolled his eyes and kept going, but it was Morty's demanding cries that finally slowed him down again.

"Hey, man... don't make me run, OK?" Surgeon Rick finally caught up in an awkward limp. "Look, I know shit is complicated with you right now, but you didn't have to leave your friends behind like that."

"Really?" Rick finally came to a halt and turned around to glare back at the other. "That's why you stopped me? To tell me off about how I treat people?"

"Yeah... no." Surgeon Rick paused. "Well, that is kinda shitty, but whatever. Point is, I get it. I finally worked out what makes you so interested in hanging around those guys."

"Huh?" Rick raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean?" He ignored the tiny pair of hands tugging on his pant-leg.

"When I first read up on you, I was like... what?" Surgeon Rick shrugged to emphasize his statement. "What business does a Rick have hanging out with backwards, tree-dwelling, hippie bird people? There wasn't anything to gain from them. They don't have technology like we do and everything is built out of wood. It's like they're stuck in the medieval ages, but with trees and shit."

Rick's expression returned to a deep scowl as he finally gave into Morty's demand and picked him up. "Make yourself useful and hold onto this for me." He stuffed the holo-projector into the little boy's open hands, then glanced back at the surgeon. "I hope you're not going where I think you are with this. I-I don't want your criticism."

"No, that's just it," Surgeon Rick went on, "I was gonna do that until I actually met them. I'm saying I get it - I totally understand why you hang around with them, dude. They were pissed at first, but they let it go once they worked out I wasn't gonna hurt them. And the way they treat each other is like... they're objectively better than people in every way."

Rick turned around and continued on his way. "They certainly are."

"Don't take that kinda shit for granted, dude." Surgeon Rick bluntly stated. "It sounds like you got unfinished business there still. Are you gonna go back?"

"Maybe," Rick replied as he glared at the holo-projector, then at Morty. "But there's some other stuff I gotta do first."