Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster! I am going to destroy you with this chapter. By the end you won't know whether to hate Rick or love him.

"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."

Mahatma Gandhi

Anger and Forgiveness

Morty observed the interactions between the man dubbed 'Rick Sanchez', and the strange newcomers. Rick paced through the living room, then back into the kitchen, around the island counter, and finally repeated the process. All while waving his hands erratically, spewing irate explanations and cursing loudly. He liked to pretend that Rick wasn't really mad. Bad things happened when people got mad. Morty unconsciously mapped possible escape routes during the ranting, his body tense like a coiled spring. He was ready to run if things escalated. He had been conditioned to be passive, but submissiveness didn't mean that he was stupid. This time he wasn't going to be extorted and trapped.

The people who had came through the portal were like the characters in his cartoons, or the storybooks his mother used to read him. Though Morty couldn't remember any of the particular fantasies; they had all been washed away by the horrors of the past few years.

The first to come out of the portal was a person with enormous bird wings. The bird-man made him uncomfortable because he wouldn't stop staring. Morty didn't like the bird-man; how his eyes portrayed a sense of genius, of serenity. Morty could practically see the gears turning in the man's head. He was an expert at reading people, picking up on body language like a domesticated dog.

This man held himself in a nonthreatening way, that Morty could not explain. He hid how smart he really was for a reason. Hidden motives made Morty uneasy. The man knew things. Of what, Morty hadn't the slightest of clues.

Next was the cat creature. Morty wasn't sure what to make of him; a bipedal cat with a ratlike tail. This cat creature spoke like a person, trying to reason with Rick and allowing himself to become roped into Rick's conversation. Morty picked up on his body language rather quickly, unlike Rick and the bird-man.

The creature would constantly shift his eyes, making sure to be aware of his surroundings. He would glance between Morty and Rick, occasionally adding to the discussion. The average person wouldn't notice, but the creature would pause when he shifted his eyes. It was a minuscule detail, but it told Morty everything he needed to know. It paused as it looked at all the doors and the windows, taking in all the entrances and makeshift exits. The creature was jumpy, as if he was anticipating some sort of raid. Morty didn't see him as a threat, animals weren't malicious like humans.

Morty watched the trio with interest. They seemed to be friends with Rick, but not in the way Jerry was acquainted with his 'clients'. Both had dropped off conspicuous items on the coffee table; a sack made of some unknown animal pelt, and a stack of what appeared to be hastily folded clothes. Morty wasn't sure of the nature of the visit, items, or conversation, but he did try his hardest to understand. Rick was nice to him when he understood (though vaguely) what more food and later meant. He couldn't help yearning for a chance at more positive attention. Morty was so touch starved that he would take what he could get.

"Sooooooo, that's why I, I'm stuck on this miserable planet with this, this," he waved a little in Morty's direction, "charity commercial wannabe." Rick exhaled, raising his head. He didn't want to deal with this. He absolutely loathed the times when he was forced to explain himself. Rick liked keeping his thoughts and problems to himself. He was completely content when it came to keeping all of his emotions bottled up inside. Rick's fingers itched, he really needed a drink.

Squanchy was glancing between Rick and Morty; a worried expression painted across his face. Birdperson was just staring at Morty, face as blank as it always was. The silence was deafening, awkward, and uncomfortable. Rick couldn't bring himself to break the tension. Rick let out a sigh of relief when Birdperson finally finished his staring contest with Morty, redirecting his eyes to focus on him.

"He's like you." Birdperson recited carefully, as if he was articulating each word in an unfamiliar language. Rick froze."His eyes are just like yours. So much pain, masked with striking intellect. He's haunted, scarred, but very, very smart." Birdperson made sure to stay out of Rick's general area, waiting for his immanent meltdown.

Rick rounded on Birdperon. This cross-analyzing was sowing the seeds of thought. Of something linking him to this Morty. It rubbed him the wrong way, made him feel. He didn't like when people thought that they could understand. And here was Birdperson, his most trusted friend; telling him who he was. Birdperson had never tried to go against him. Ever."Are you serious!? This is a Morty we're talkin about. They're literally human shields! We have backup tickets at the Counsel, just in case we lose one. They're expendable, and the only reason I'm weighed down with this pathetic whelp, is because he's the only thing that can block my brain waves!" Birdperson stood his ground adding fuel to the flames, while Squanchy moved to stand in front of the cowering Morty – shielding him from the sight of Rick's tantrum.

Rick narrowed his eyes moving to tear Birdperson's baseless speculation to shreds. "This is the first time you've ever even met a Morty, I've been dealing with their damn whining for a year now! And I can tell you one thing – above all else – Morty's ARE. NOT. SMART. All of them are just as stupid and pissy as the last." He seemed to calm himself a bit before continuing with his tirade. "They're all the same, only this wretch is just a little more worse for wear. Got the shit-end of a crap deal..." He groaned, apparently burning himself out.

Squanchy decided to moderate the disagreement by changing the subject. "Soooooo," he drew the word out, to help center his friend's attention. He clasped his hands together as Rick and Birdperson's trance was broken. "What do you really know about what happened here? Like I'm not tying to step on your toes Rick, but to what to extent do you know about what happened to this kid?" Squanchy had moved to Morty sometime during the argument, and was now holding the boy's head, smelling his hair. Morty was sitting at Squanchy's feet, calmly playing with Squanchy's tail as he attempting to avoid everyone's attention. Rick cringed. "What, whatever you're doing right now is realllllly freaking me out Squanchy. It would be nice if you stopped touching my grandson. Like, like, right now."

Squanchy raised his arms up in mock defeat. "I was getting a better scent off of him. I thought I smelled something off, but I didn't wanna go throwing accusations around." His eyes shifted around for a moment. "The scent was almost drowned out by all of the stink, but," Squanchy paused, as if trying to find the proper words to satiate Rick, "But in short, h-he smells like sex."

Rick held himself up against the counter with one arm, his other traveling up to massage the bridge of his nose. It was a harsh blow to the gut, but Rick wasn't completely caught off guard. If Jerry could lock his son up and allow him to deteriorate to the condition he was in now, he wouldn't put him past sexual assault.

Rick leveled his sight at the picture that stretched out before him. Squanchy standing off to the side, while Morty was sitting and running his hands up and down Squanchy's tail. Morty's face was relaxed; more relaxed than any other time today. More relaxed than with Rick. He was at ease with Squanchy's presence, and that made something hot boil up in Rick's stomach. Jealousy.

Rick knew it wasn't the time to be caught up on something so trivial. Hell, he'd found out his grandson was being raped. But It made emotion stir in Rick, someone Morty had only met minutes ago, was safer to Morty than the man that had been taking care of him all day. Rick reached into his lab coat and pulled out his flask. Popping the cap, he took a long swig. He needed to kill all the feeling away. It was for the best that Morty didn't trust him. It would make things easier in the long run.

"Squancy, Birdperson." Rick looked between his two friends. "Thanks for all the stuff, but I need some time to think. You, you guys are aweOOUUGHHsome." He nodded to Birdperson, eyes locking. "Truce?"

Birdperson bowed his head, "All is forgiven Rick. The past is the past, may we not dwell on it." His conformation rectified Rick's frayed nerves.

After Birdperson and Squanchy went back to their collective worlds, Rick and Morty were left alone in the living room. Morty was sitting on the cherry-wood floor, toying with the tendrils of the white rug. However, Rick was deep in thought. He would occasionally catch sight of Morty's eyes, trying to figure out what his friend had seen in the boy. All that he could see in those unnaturally wide orbs was baser instincts and fear.

He took a swig from his flask, his mind buzzing pleasantly. Maybe it was more of Birdperson's philosophical mumbo-jumbo. His nonsense talk. Rick chalked it up to being nothing more than that. Rick believed that if he couldn't comprehend or explain it, it didn't exist in the first place. He was the smartest person in multiple universes after all.

Dark thoughts began to flood Rick's consciousness. Horrible ideas that would halt all of the feelings in their tracks. Permanently. This Morty is a train-wreck. How was he supposed to fix this? This kid was so damaged... it may be in the best interests of both of them to put the kid outta his misery. He'd killed plenty of people; so frequently, that it was now second nature to him. What made this Morty any different? More emotion swelled up in his chest, and he took another sip from his flask. Getting rid of this Morty would stop all these unwanted feelings.

Rick looked down on his grandson, his hand fingering the disintegrater gun in his pocket. All he had to do was set the weapon on high and take the shot. It would be a quick, painless death. Morty wouldn't have to live a painful existence like he did. He wouldn't have to live with the awful memories of the past. He'd be doin' the kid a favor, he reasoned. An attempt to justify the action. To pacify all the alarms going off in his head.

Rick slipped his invention from his pocket, quietly adjusting the dial to the highest level. There wouldn't be much left of the kid afterwards, only ashes. Just the way Rick wanted. No cleanup, no regrets, no more feelings. He could go to the Counsel of Ricks when it was all said and done, and try to apply for a new Morty. The idea of asking them for help seeming less monumental as things progressed.

Rick aimed the gun at Morty while he was picking at the white cloth. Morty was unaware of what was about to happen, what his grandfather was about to do to him. Rick cocked the weapon, and his finger ghosted across the trigger.

Morty stilled at the sound of the gun being cocked, and lifted his head to look at his savior. Rick faltered, his resolve wavering. Morty's eyes were full of innocence and life. The will to live shining brightly in his irises. Rick lowered the gun, giving a loud groan. His hand coming up to rub his eyes. He tried to cover up his weakness with a warped sense of logic. He couldn't just kill this Morty, he'd already put too much of his valuable time and effort into saving him. Yeah, that's why he chose not to destroy him.

No other sentimental emotions were holding him back. Emotions made people weak. They were for the ignorant people who refused to accept the way things really were. The universe was a cold, dark, lonely place, and weaker beings needed each other to feel as if they were somehow important. When in all actuality, they meant nothing. Though the cruelest reality was that if Morty had not looked up at Rick in that moment in time, in that brief second, he would be dead. A pile of black ash to be scattered on the wind.

Rick began to head towards the bathroom, gesturing for Morty to follow. The gun slipped back into his lab coat. He tilted his head back, making sure the kid got the memo; Morty lifted himself up from the floor, wobbling as he righted himself on two legs. He resembled a baby deer taking it's first steps into an unforgiving world.

Morty followed silently, Rick ready to catch him if he fell. Though Rick would never admit that he was looking out for the kid. "Come, come on Morty, you, your getting a bath Morty. Ya, you smell like ass, and I can't handle it right now. Like, like you could prOOUUGHHbably win a contest. Set a new world record." He emptied his flask.

Morty sat in the corner as Rick went about filling the tub. Rick poured some sweet smelling bath beads into the water, they colored the liquid a light pink with bubbles. He then proceeded to remove his lab coat and long-sleeved shirt, to keep them dry. He draped them carelessly over the rack centered above the toilet.

Rick glanced at Morty who was curled up tightly, deciding that he needed to remove the mats from his grandson's hair before he went further. Rick sauntered over to the bathroom cabinet, opening the double doors in search for something useful. He gathered a tube of disinfectant cream, a roll of bandages, some medical tape, a sea-foam green towel, an unopened bottle of shampoo, a bottle of body wash, and a pair of silver scissors in his arms.

Rick unexpectantly opened his arms, allowing all the materials to drop to the floor. He only bent down to retrieve the towel and scissors, which he placed on the toilet seat. He turned to get Morty. "AlriOOUUGHHght Morty," He crouched down to the kid's level, hoisting Morty up to his feet. "Grandpa's gonna give you a, a bath. Fix you alllllllllllllll up Morty." Just as Rick's fingers gripped the worn hem of Morty's stained underwear, Morty let out a shrill, inhuman scream.

Rick was so stunned by the sudden shriek, he was unprepared for when Morty violently flung himself over Rick's shoulder in an escape attempt. Rick was shocked out of his stupor, his arms wrapping around Morty's hips as the boy scrambled for something to grab, some purchase to wriggle himself out of the man's grip. He clawed at Rick's white undershirt, screeching the entire time.

Rick was finally able to pull the kid down off his shoulder, his hand closing over Morty's mouth in a futile motion to quite the loud ringing bursting his eardrums. All was quiet for half a second, before everything tumbled into a downward spiral. "Goddammit Morty, ya, you need to calm do – FUCK!" he ripped his hand from Morty's mouth, blood welling up from a nasty bite.

Morty used this distraction as an opportunity to lurch over Rick's shoulder a second time. Patience had whittled away, and Rick snarled as he reached up to fist Morty's tangled mess of hair. "Ya, YOU LITTLE SHIT! All I've been tryin' ta do a, all GODDAMN day is help your ungrateful ass! And you piss it all away for notOOUUGHHing!"

He hauled the boy off of him by his hair, throwing him down as hard as he could to the floor. Morty landed on his side, curling into a slight ball. Silent tears sliding down his face, only to splatter on the tiles. Rick stood over Morty, completely unsympathetic. He didn't feel bad in the least, in Rick's twisted mind, Morty had brought the retaliation upon himself.

Rick wracked his mind for a reason why the little bastard would react so negatively. Morty was mostly silent and well behaved during the entirety of Rick's interactions. In fact, this was the first vocalization the kid had made all day. Why the sudden change in behavior? Rick towered over Morty, his hands in his pockets. Morty's body now shook with the force of his sobs, locked in a tight fetal position.

Rick moaned, face-palming as he finally came to the obvious conclusion. The kid had been raped for God knows how long, and then a strange old man – one he had only known for hours – gets half naked with him and tries to take off his underwear. Rick didn't blame the kid, but still lacked remorse for his actions.

"Hu, hey kid." Rick crouched down once again, rocking on the balls of his feet. "C'mon, we, we gotta get ya, you cleaned up. I, I'll let you keep your underwear on for now, if ya don, don't bite me no more." Rick let air filter through his nose as Morty's cries grew harder with Rick's close proximity. Rick finally gave in and pulled his grandson into a tight embrace.

Morty's body gave a few harsh spasms as Rick held him. Eventually the sobs subsided, and Rick pushed Morty back by his shoulders. His face was red and puffy, but he had finished his crying. Rick gave a gentle shove, dislodging the boy from his lap. Morty resumed his position on the floor, waiting for Rick's next move.

Rick picked up the scissors and went to the large shower nestled in the back of the room. Opening the glass door wide, he reached up to grab the disconnecting shower-head. There was a tiled seat in the shower, that Rick lowered himself to. He warmed the water up and beckoned Morty over with a point of his finger. Morty hesitantly crawled to Rick, like an animal slinking to it's owner for certain punishment.

Rick made sure Morty was planted firmly between his legs before dousing the kid's head with the nozzle. Morty trembled, unable to stop a few whimpers of trepidation. Dark clumps of mud dropped from Morty's head, as whorls of filth were washed down the drain. When Rick finished wetting Morty's head, he used the scissors to give Morty a sloppy haircut.

Rick took the metal grate out of the floor to allow the largest of the dirty clumps to run down the drain, the rest following suite. Haircuts were not Rick's forte, but he'd done a moderate job. Well, at least he thought so. Morty's hair was an uneven jungle, longer strips of hair intermingling with shorter ones. The overall length was just past Morty's ears, his bangs sweeping low enough to touch his eyebrows.

Rick left Morty in the shower to drop the scissors into the sink and retrieve the shampoo. He scrubbed Morty's head, the foam turning gray from years of filth. He rinsed it out and repeated the process until the new bottle of shampoo was empty. Morty's torso had streaks of skin peeking through the grime now, but Rick felt that it was going to be a battle if he wanted to scrub the kid's body.

Rick exited the shower to see what the kid would do if left to his own devices. He sat down on the toilet lid after setting the towel down next to the tub. Would the kid just sit there doing nothing, or would he try to explore? Rick didn't have to wait long for the answer, as Morty got back up on two legs, using the shower seat as a support.

Morty looked to Rick for guidance on what to do, and Rick jerked his thumb at the tub before settling his elbows on his knees. Allowing his arms to hang limply between his parted legs. Morty slowly made his way to the bath, only looking back at Rick once as he reached the edge of the tub. Rick gave him a bored nod, rolling his eyes in irritation.

Morty stared down into the water, before sinking to his knees and dunking his arms deep into the bath. Rick watched him, amused by the small smile on Morty's face. While Morty was enjoying the warm water, Rick exited the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. He hoped the kid might take off the pair of soiled underwear if left alone, with no prying eyes to pervert him.

Rick went to living room, and sunk into the soft couch. He went through all of the clothes his friends had graciously donated. Some of Squanchy's clothes would fit Morty, but the majority were much too small. Birdperson had dropped off his youngest niece and nephew's cast-offs. Rick threw anything pink or that resembled a dress in the 'reject pile' off to his right.

Rick made two trips to drop his most reasonable picks of the clothes inside the drawers of the master bedroom. He'd decided to let Morty have the largest bedroom, mainly because the master bedroom had an adjoining bathroom. Rick doubted Morty would be able to stumble through the house in the middle of the night, searching for the only other bathroom in the house. The kid might not even make it that far, he could be too scared of his shadow to leave the room, choosing to wet himself rather than take a risk. Rick did not want to deal with that. These days Rick didn't want to deal with a lot of things.

Rick selected the first articles of clothing from the tops of the stacks; not really bothering to analyze the items. He cracked open the bathroom door, finding Morty in the tub, washing his arms with a sponge. The kid was too preoccupied to realize Rick was checking in on him, so he quietly left the clothes on the floor directly in front of the door. As Rick tugged the door shut, he noticed the dirty underwear lying discarded on the tiles.

Rick waited in the hallway by the door, until he heard the bathwater draining. He knocked lightly. "Morty, I, it's grandpa. I, I'm gonna be comin' in Morty. So, ya know, don't freak oOOUUGHHut." Rick opened the door and spotted Morty standing in the middle of the bathroom. He was wearing the white boxer shorts Rick had dropped off, and twisting the black tank in his hands nervously.

Rick entered the room, and carefully removed the tank from Morty's hands. Angry red welts and open sores were more visible now. Morty's hips and neck dotted with dark purple and yellowish bruises. When he got his hands on the sick fucks who did this. "It, it's okay Morty. Grandpa Rick's gonna fix your cuts up Morty. The, then you can puOOUUGHHt the shirt on."

He rubbed the anti-bacterial cream on all of the wounds, relieved that none of them needed stitches. Rick was a messy at stitches, he'd given himself numerous ones on his many adventures. None of them had healed well. He wiped his hands on a rag, then wrapped Morty up with the roll of bandages. He tore the medical tape with his teeth, and secured the wrap tightly. Next he slid the top over Morty's head, laughing a little when he saw the tank he had inadvertently chosen.

In bright white letters, his old band name, - The Flesh Curtains – was spelled out. Morty was a little alarmed at the laugh, but followed Rick out of the bathroom.

They entered the kitchen and Rick immediately began digging through the pantry, searching for something Morty could eat. Morty stood in the archway, playing with the hem of his shirt. He found a bag of rice under a shelf stocked with pet food. He didn't pay much attention to the implications that the cans had lain out before him. He left the rice on the counter and went to the fridge to find other items.

He was only able to find a jar of beef gravy and a lone salt shaker. There was a rice cooker on the counter, making things all the more convenient. He was pulling a small saucepan from a cabinet, when he started a one-sided conversation. "So, Morty, how bout' some rice and gravy for dinner. Not, not very luxurious, but it, it'll get –" He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as things clicked together.

Morty was standing at the pantry, a can of dog food held in his hands. He was fiddling with the tab. Jerry didn't have a dog, Morty was his dog... not even good enough for human food. It explained the random pet food perfectly. Unbridled rage lit in the pits of Rick's stomach, his self-control snapping like a rubber band that was pulled taut. His teeth clenched painfully and his hands shook with anger.

He strode over to Morty, ripping the can from the child's hands and hurling it at the far wall. Morty sensed what was going to happen, and bolted from the kitchen. "JERRY, WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU! I, I'M GONNA GOUGE OUT YOUR EYES AND SHOVE THEM SO FAR UP YOUR ASS, THAT YOU'LL BE ABLE TO SEE ME CASTRATING YOU WHILE YOU BEG FOR MERCY!"

Rick gripped the top of the pantry with both of his hands, and with a grunt, he slammed it forwards into the floor. Cans of cat food and dog food bouncing across the woodwork. Rick yelled, his hands pulling at his hair. He couldn't do this! It was too much! In the span of a day he'd learned of his daughter's death, his grandson's abuse, got into a fight with his most trusted friend, and taken on the mantel of guardianship!

Rick was unable to handle the reality of the situation. He had pushed it to the back of his mind all day, but now it was emerging all at once. So Rick did the only thing he knew how to do, the only thing that would ease his fractured psych. He pulled out his portal gun, and left.

Hours later, Rick was sitting alone in his warehouse, drinking all the pain away. His world tilted dangerously on it's axis, before righting itself. Rick finished another bottle, tossing the glass bottle somewhere behind him. The glass shattered, spreading sharp shards across its radius. Rick passed out.

He awoke to a terrible hangover splitting his head in two. Rick took some pills that were sitting on his desk to take the edge off. He cracked open his eyes to look at a digital clock centered on a nearby folding chair. It read, 12:03 in neon green letters. He forced himself to stand, his legs like jelly. Memories of the previous evening rushing back.

Rick groaned when he realized he had to go back and feed Morty. The kid couldn't afford to miss anymore meals. Well, he couldn't have fucked things up any more than he had, even if he wanted to. He opened a portal back to earth.

When he arrived back, he dropped a small robot in the kitchen. Rick had taken apart his disintegrater gun to manufacture the thing. It zoomed around the general vicinity, incinerating each individual can of pet food. Rick lifted the pantry up, sliding it back against the wall. He called for Morty, even though he was already aware that the kid wasn't going to give up his hiding place. It was worth a shot. He shrugged and went about cooking dinner.

Rick prepared the rice and heated up the gravy on the stove. He made sure to water it down so Morty wouldn't get sick. The mess had been cleaned up while he was cooking, and the robot deactivated. Rick scooped some rice into two plastic bowls, salting and drizzling gravy on the portions. He shoved a metal spoon in his rice, and a plastic child's spoon into Morty's.

Rick was about to mount his search for Morty, when he spied him peaking around the island counter. He had apparently been attracted by the smell of food. Rick pushed Morty's bowl in his direction, and Morty snatched it from Rick's hand. He went back to hiding behind the counter. Rick didn't apologize for his outburst, he never apologized for anything.

Rick ate at the table, looking in at Morty every once and a while. When Morty finished his food, he licked the bottom of the bowl, before hiding better behind the counter. It was eerily silent. Rick finished eating soon after Morty and went to see what the child was doing. As he rounded the corner of the island, he almost tripped over Morty's sleeping form.

Rick bent down to pick up Morty and carry him to his room, only stopping to fill Morty's bottle half-way with a little of the milk mixture, shifting the boy on his hip as he did so. He pushed the bedroom door open with his shoulder, and tucked Morty into the bed. Rick stopped to stare at his grandson. All the pain and fear absent from his sleeping face; it was almost like he was a normal kid. Almost.

Rick pressed the bottle into Morty's fingers, and switched the starry lamp on before he left. The blue stars rotating around the dark room. Rick, for the first time in eternity, felt ashamed. How could Morty ever forgive me?

Morty was awake the moment Rick lifted him from the floor. He was half-asleep, but was partially aware of what was going on. He opened his tired eyes to gape at the bright blue stars, sucking at the bottle of milk Rick had left him. After all those hellish years, someone had finally come for him. Morty had already forgiven Rick's actions. He was too happy to hold a grudge against his savior.

Morty was elated. His chest was vibrating with thrums of joy. This had been the best day of his life! Though Morty didn't trust Rick, and probably never would, he already loved him more than life itself. This man gave him food, and clothes, and was nice to him. He hadn't tried to do bad things to him when he bathed, and he hadn't sold him like his father had.

Even if it had been less than a full day since their fated meeting, Morty had placed every ounce of hope he had left in this strange man. He had someone he could believe in for the first time in years. If only Rick knew that he meant the world to this boy. There were a lot of 'ifs' in the world.

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