Rick was driving them somewhere in the ship, but Morty didn't know where. His hands were so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles had turned white, and he was hunched forward in his seat as he drove. It must have been an hour before Morty decided to say anything.

"W-where are we going, Rick?" Morty asked, causing Rick to jump. Not only was he not used to hearing Morty's voice, but he had been so focused on the endless space ahead of him that he had completely zoned out. Plus, he was so fucking wasted right now and his thoughts were a jumbled mess.

"I-I-I-I don't know, Morty." He slurred, not even sparing the boy a glance. "I-I don't know how to explain y-you coming back to life to your mom, Morty. So it's j-just Rick and Morty a-a-and their a-bBrRRRrpP-adventures... indefinitely."

Morty was giving him a worried look unlike he'd ever given to him before. "Rick..." He said, tone matching his expression.

"What?" Rick said, still refusing to look over. He had no clue where the hell they were going, and he had no idea how to handle this situation.

"H-how long has it been?" The words came out hushed, and timid.

" 'Bout a year..." The scientists muttered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening even more than before. He was starting to shake slightly.

There was silence for a moment as Morty mauled over that information.

A year.

He had been dead for a whole fucking year. A fucking year. And somehow he was still here. He found it frustrating how... how well he felt. He didn't feel sore, or in pain. Hell, he didn't even feel weak. Sure, he was kinda tired, and his stomach was bunching up into all kinds of knots, but that was purely from his anxiety. His body was perfectly intact, working like he hadn't even died in the first place.

But now even more questions were resurfacing. "I-is this a temporary thing?!" He felt himself become tense, more anxiety grabbing ahold of him. "Is—is—is this— how long does it last?! How did you do this, Rick?! What did you do?! How?! How?! How and why?!" He was starting to hyperventilate at this point, he knew. A panic attack at the very edge, waiting to take over. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe! there wasn't enough room in the fucking spaceship! He couldn't breathe!

Rick looked over at Morty, seeing the absolute fear in his expression and he pulled the breaks, the spaceship floating still amid the seemingly infinite space around them. "H-Hey, hey— buddy, you gotta—gotta chill, alright?" He tried to comfort him, unbuckling his seat belt so he could reach out for the teen.

Morty backed away from him, flattening himself against the door. His heart was pounding again, threatening to leap from his chest. He felt like it was going to explode. It was going to fucking explode, and he'd be dead again. He was going to fucking die. "No no nonononononono." He echoed the word, his breathing going far to quick. He was becoming lightheaded, and he was starting to see tunnel vision. "IdontwanttodieRickIdontwanttodie." He began sobbing, fat wet tears flowing down his pale cheeks.

Rick crawled out of his seat and onto Morty's, grabbing him by his wrists and looking him in the eyes. "Morty, calm down." He said, trying, and failing to sound stern. He unwillingly sounded panicked. "C'mon, breathe!" He said, sucking in one breath of his own as if to demonstrate.

Morty followed his action, sucking in a large breath. He held it until Rick exhaled, and he exhaled as well. His lungs were burning as he protested the compulsive need to start hyperventilating again, but he refused it, focusing solely on Rick. The feeling of his hands wrapped around his wrists, the smell of alcohol wafting off of him. His sharp blue eyes filled with care and worry. The sound of his voice, telling him to calm down. It was the only thing in this moment that could keep him grounded, even though they were ironically in the middle of space, where gravity means nothing. But in that moment, Rick was his gravity.

They both breathed together for a while as Rick encouraged him on, telling him that everything was fine. He told him that everything was going to be okay— that Morty was okay, they were okay. Nothing bad was going to happen.

Morty leaned forward, his head crashing into Rick's chest. He was still shaking and crying, but at least he wasn't hyperventilating anymore. Rick wrapped his arms around him, holding him closer to his chest. "Y-you're okay, Morty." He whispered softly into his brown curls. "You're alive."

The teen sobbed into him, holding on tightly to the labels of his lab coat.

TBC