I hope everyone enjoys the newest chapter! Likes and reviews are appreciated. If you have any suggestion about what you want featured in this story, feel free to ask:)

"I can't promise to fix all of your problems, but I can promise that you won't face them all alone"

Curiano

Sobering Revelations

As Rick moved up the stairs, he wondered what he was getting himself into. Morty didn't make a sound, his body lighter than air in Rick's arms. What was he getting himself into? What Rick would give to backtrack and wait another five years in the warehouse. At this point it seemed like a better option than this. This Morty was broken and probably useless. What use would this Morty be if Rick had to haul him around through his escapades? This Morty would hinder his plans; set him back. Rick didn't like being held up. Rick had no patience.

Rick seriously contemplated going back to the Counsel of Ricks to request another Morty. But this Morty had to be dead to do that, and Rick decided that going and groveling before the Counsel was not worth another equally idiotic Morty. He pushed the thought out of his mind, looking down at the child in his arms. Wide, fearful eyes stared back at him. They seemed too wide to be real, a broken sense of innocence lighting the vast expanses.

What had this kid been through? Rick didn't want to think about it, but he didn't have the leverage to shift Morty enough to reach into his coat for his flask. Rick sighed as they reached the top of the stairs. The light allowing him to see the damage that was hidden by the murky darkness of the basement.

Morty was filthy. His body had a layer of dark grime that obscured all visible skin. He only wore a pair of dirty underwear, the smell of urine and human filth overwhelming. There were a few open wounds that were swirling with dirt. Rick was surprised that they weren't infected. He'd have to clean them out as soon as he had the time. Morty's hair was past his shoulders in a matted mop of caked-in mud. Rick would have to find some scissors to cut the mats out. Another bothersome chore. Morty was emaciated. Each rib sticking out, his hips protruding grotesquely. His arms and legs seemed thin enough to snap like twigs, his face gaunt like a skeleton's. Rick had no idea how this kid was still alive.

Rick reached the kitchen and sat Morty down on the floor gently. Although he would never admit it. He immediately reached for his flask to take a drink, only to find it empty. He must have finished it up in the basement. Rick cursed under his breath and moved to the fridge; Morty's eyes following his every move. Rick already knew that he had finished the last of the beer up earlier, but that wasn't what he was looking for. His eyes scanned the scantly filled shelves, until he decided on some milk. He glanced at the date and moved the gallon to the counter.

Rick then opened the overhead cabinets, searching for something suitable for Morty to drink from. He quickly discarded the idea of using an open-rimmed cup. He doubted that the kid could handle one without spilling the liquid everywhere. He didn't need another mess to clean up. He already had enough to deal with as it was.

Rick grunted as he slammed the cabinet door shut as hard as he could. Morty jumped and quietly curled in on himself, visibly shaking. Rick sighed and ran a hand down his face. How was he supposed to deal with this? Sure, he was much better than all the other Ricks, but he doubted he had the humanity needed to fix this mess. When he got his hands on Jerry, he was gonna make sure that he suffered in unimaginable ways. Rick smiled to himself, thinking of all the things he was gonna do to Jerry. Making a mental note of all the hellish planets he'd come across, he moved to the strainer that was set in the right half of the sink.

Inside the strainer was a transparent, red sports bottle. It had the logo 'Hungry for Apples?'. That was a stupid slogan, Rick mused. He unscrewed the lid and filled the bottle up halfway with the milk, the other half he watered down with the tap. Rick was careful with what he was to give Morty; too much could send him into caloric shock, or at least make him vomit. Rick was still not in the mood for a mess.

He hoped that the mixture was watered down enough. It should be. Rick had been to countless planets with starving inhabitants, so he sort of knew what to give when it came to a meal. 'Sort of' being the key phrase. Rick nonchalantly screwed the cap back on, making sure it was tight enough to prevent leaks.

Rick approached Morty, with the bottle held loosely in between his fingers. As he crouched to the kid's level, extending his arm to give him the bottle; Morty violently flinched away. Rick gave an annoyed groan. "Morty, you either take this bottle by choice, or I can hold you down and force you to drink it. Don't think I haven't done it before." It came out a lot softer than he meant, and Morty seemed to comprehend the tone. Morty uncovered his face that was buried within his hands, and hesitantly reached for the bottle. Rick rolled his eyes, his patience growing thinner as he became more sober, pushed the bottle into Morty's outstretched fingers. Using his other hand to press Morty's fingers securely around the bottle. Rick gave Morty a jerky nod.

They locked eyes for a second. Morty's eyes questioning and confused. Rick rose from his crouched position and headed for a nearby wall. Rick reached into his pocket to pull out his portal gun. He had to return to his warehouse to retrieve his space phone. Rick had people to call.

Morty watched as the strange man pulled out some sort of gun. It reminded him of the toys he would see scattered across the various lawns of the neighborhood a long time ago. He shook the memory from his head and observed curiously. The man seemed to fumble with the device for a minute, before he pointed it at the wall and pulled the trigger.

Morty gasped as a green portal erupted from the plain wall. The man must have heard him, because he turned back to look down on his form. The man had one eye quirked and a frown marring his face as he spoke. "Morty, ya better drink that shit. Have it allllllllll gone before I get back Morty. I don't really give a fuck whether or not you can understand me, but you better have it gone. Can't have a dead kid on my hands Morty. Not after all the effort I'm putting in to keep your sorry ass alive."

One moment the man was there, the next he had vanished through the portal. Leaving Morty alone in the house.

Morty didn't mind being alone anymore. Loneliness was better than being in the company of someone, who may or may not want to hurt him. Morty didn't like when he couldn't determine someones intentions. He would rather know if someone was going to outright hurt him, than leaving it up to chance.

He tried to figure out what was going on. Jerry was usually here by this time of the day to feed him. But he hadn't shown up. The strange man did, stealing him away from the basement. Morty idly wondered if the man was a police officer. He couldn't really remember what a police officer was, but he did recall that he had screamed himself hoarse a long time ago, when he was first trapped inside the basement, for a police officer to take him away.

Morty stared down at the bottle. It was filled with milk; he had watched the man take the gallon from the fridge and fill it. He couldn't remember what milk tasted like, but a little nostalgia was present in the back of his mind. Morty thought that he used to like milk in the before time. Before he went to live in the basement. He brought the red bottle to his lips and sucked at the tip.

Morty decided that milk was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Rick searched through piles, upon piles of junk; cursing to high heaven the entire time. Where the hell did he put that damned phone? Rick was irritation was borderline rage. He was becoming sober and it was pushing his psych deeper into the darkness. After flipping a particularly expensive invention into a puddle of water, Rick finally spotted his phone. It was lying innocently on his workbench. Rick tilted his head back and let out a loud yell of frustration.

How could being sober make him any less coordinated than when he was drunk off his ass? Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Maybe it was the condition of the kid that was making him so antsy. Morty was at death's door, singing Christmas carols. He stomped up to the bench and snatched the phone, dialing one of the many numbers he had committed to memory.

The receiver rang a few times, Rick's foot impatiently tapping the floor. Come on, come on, come on. The rings on the other line gave way to Birdperson's voice. "Hello, this is Birdperson speaking," Rick sighed in relief.

"Yeah, Birdpeson. This is Rick, I have a little favor to ask you." He paused, awaiting Birdperson's response.

"Greetings Rick. I hope you've been doing well. How may I be of service?" Birdperson always understood. He never asked questions or judged Rick. Never told him what to do.

"Birdperson, I need you to listen carefully. I have a situation on Earth, Coordinates 33612412300100. It's nothing major, but I need you to get me some clothes from one of your nephews or nieces. Anything that would fit a six-year old. Maybe even five. I promise I'll pay you back as soon as you get here." Rick concluded.

"Anything Rick. Birdperson is indebted to se-"

"I know, I know... all that ancient bull-crap that sounds really cool the first dozen or so times. But you, you know that it gets old reeeeeeeeeal fast." Rick interjected. "Just try to hurry up."

Rick hung up then set his mind on contacting Squanchy.

After hanging up with Squanchy, Rick all but fell into his old swivel chair. He stared at the ceiling for a while, trying to sort out his tumultuous thoughts. The space heater was giving off pleasant waves of warmth, helping ease the tension in Rick's body. Morty would be fine on his own for a while. He doubted Jerry would return to the house that day. The thought of Jerry caused anger to coil in Rick's gut.

Rick thought of Morty's injuries, his frail body, and his overall well-being. It made unpleasant waves rock the forefront of his mind. Rick needed a drink. He felt along the table for his bottle of hard liquor, not really paying attention to the movements; his eyes still focused on the ceiling. Rick's fingers finally came across the cool glass of the liquor bottle. His hand grasped the neck of the bottle as he brought it to his face. He watched the amber liquid swirl around the confines of the container.

Rick popped the cap of his flask, filling it to the brim with the mind-numbing elixir. He filed the flask away inside of his coat, bringing the bottle to his mouth. He paused. He needed to figure out what he was to do next. What was he supposed to do with a mentally damaged child, when he was just as fucked up?

Rick left the liquor on his desk, opening a portal back to the house. This was perhaps the first time in Rick's life that he chose someone over his alcohol. Even if Rick didn't realize he had just opened himself up to a new realm of possibilities. That this small decision would separate him from every other Rick in existence. Unlike the others, he had a chance now. A chance to be something more. To be better.

When Rick arrived back at the house, he strolled into the kitchen. Morty was still sitting in the same spot where Rick had left him. Morty looked up at Rick, acknowledging his return. "Look Morty," He scratched the back of his neck. "I have some people coming over, they're bringing some clothes over. Gonna help fix you up." Rick huffed when Morty held up the empty bottle, his eyes pleading.

"Yeah Morty, ya did a good job finishing that milk. A real good job Morty." Rick pulled the bottle from Morty's loose grip. Morty's eyes travelled back to the fridge, then back to the bottle. Oh. "Morty, I know you want more, but you, you'll make yourself sick. How bout' after we get ya, you all fixed up, I'll make you something a lot tastier than milk Morty." A spark of recognition lit Morty's eyes. He nodded vigorously.

"Good, Morty. You, Your doing great." Rick ran his hand through Morty's matted hair, before straightening himself and moving to the living room. Morty followed suite, creeping after Rick on all fours. Just as they were about to cross into the next room, a green portal opened up in the wall. Morty sat back on his bottom and Rick watched with rapt attention as Birdperson stepped into the kitchen.

Just as the portal closed, another one formed in it's place. Squanchy jumped though, the portal snapping shut for a final time. Squanchy waltzed forward, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. "Rick Sanchez, it's been way too long!"

I know things are a little slow right now, but it takes awhile for things to pick up. If your wondering why Rick's not randomly burping throughout the story, I have a perfect explanation. If you watch the show really closely, Rick doesn't burp as mush when he's sober. Really, if you don't believe me, look it up. A big thanks to all my commentors, you're the reasons why this chapter came out so early!