I want to thank everyone for the awesome support I've gotten from the last chapter and the equally awesome fanart!
Seriously, guys, I love your fanart!
Also, HOLY HELL this chapter is almost 30 pages long on Google Docs and busting 10,000 words. This fic is officially 103 pages long and giving me an existential crisis. And Google Docs on that note, because my fic is so long it keeps glitching out GOOGLE FRICKIN DOCS and imma havta start a new document.
A big thanks to everyone who submitted fanart and my stalkers on Tumblr; YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING!
For my awesome beta theforevernight who says this chapters awesome, even though I don't think so, and to my cocreator theamazingjoker.
WARNING: EXTREMELY SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTER IN THIS CHAPTER!
Glitterfreeze
"It's a complicated world. People have a hard time finding each other and when they do…
they're scared to take the risk"
-Curiano
The dark expanse of space stretched above them; milky galaxies and stars shining brightly in the night sky without light pollution to hide them. It was a dark planet, still millions of years away from developing complex organisms. The grass was navy blue, soft and short beneath their feet as they walked. They weaved around deep luminescent pools of water, lit by the glowing fruits that spawned in them.
It was a unique little place, small and safe. No Federation, no face-eating plants, no risks…
Rick kicked a stray pebble into one of the pools, observing as it sputtered and fizzed like a bath bomb. It dissolved in seconds, leaving the bioluminescent fruits unscathed. He shoved his free hand into his lab coat, the other sloshing the liquid in his flask around. Rick appreciated the many evolutionary lines that the universe had to offer. He was a man of science, above all else.
Above a good father, grandparent, husband, or even as a basic guardian. Rick took a few swigs from his flask, checking the watches on his arm.
"Rick?" A tentative voice inquires from behind him.
He grunts back, and a few beats of silence pass.
Morty comes up from his side, glancing at the pool before shakily continuing. "Um… I-I got the fruit things you wanted." Morty bit his lip, his eyes glowing a bit from behind his goggles. He dropped a soaked backpack to the ground, heavy with goods. "Is this enough? Do you need me to get more or-"
He's dithering and Rick can't handle it. He can't handle anything tonight. Not after all the shit that had happened, and all the stress that had been drowning him. He wasn't sure if he was angrier at Morty for keeping a bombshell secret from him - along with many more he hadn't even scratched the surface of - or at himself for not figuring it out sooner, before the kid was an unresponsive mess on the garage floor.
"Shut up, Morty," Rick snaps. "J-Just leave them there. It's fine." He wasn't really here for the stupid fruits anyways. He wanted answers, and he was going to get them.
Morty opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more, but closed it just as quickly. Rick knew that Morty could feel how irritated he was, and he didn't want to push the envelope.
Rick headed off in a different direction, motioning for Morty to follow. The boy stuck close to Rick's side, eyeing the darkness that surrounded them. Morty twitched a bit, a shiver going through his body. It was new. The compulsory tick that surfaced immediately after Rick flushed the Xax'ic from his system. Rick could almost count the seconds between each twitching episode, filing away the information somewhere in his mind.
Forty-five seconds…
Morty's body jerked a bit, and he hung back a little farther, gripping his arm.
Forty-five seconds…
A small shudder, followed by the boy beginning to gnaw on the collar of his shirt.
Thirty-two seconds…
A leaf crunched underfoot and broke the cycle, causing the tick to go off short of the cycle.
Rick idly hoped that it wasn't an effect caused by the drugs; that the boy's nervous system hadn't been ruined over jack-shit. He slowed his walk so he could keep pace with Morty, staring at the boy from the corner of his eyes.
Morty's sleeves were pushed past his elbows so they wouldn't get wet while he fished the fruits from the water, the light from the pools highlighting his hands and arms. His fingers were a shocking white, newly bandaged, but sopping wet. Strips of cloth hung down as it peeled away from his skin, though Morty didn't seem to mind. The bruises littering his arms were exposed, deep black blotches that curled up to where his sleeves sat.
The luminescent blue light made them look much darker than before…
Rick shook the thought from his head, taking another long pull from his flask.
Forty-five seconds…
Morty twitched.
They trekked for a few minutes in silence, climbing up a steep embankment. Rick easily found footholds in loose rocks, catching thick leaves protruding from the dirt to haul himself up. Morty followed behind, albeit much slower. Even with his night-vision, he couldn't seem to magically find perfect handholds like Rick and it didn't help because the older man kept sending showers of soil and rocks into Morty's face.
Morty caught a vine, stripping it of leaves as he almost slipped back down the grassy mess. His feet scrabbled for hold, finally landing on some unstable stones. He could do this, it's just a muddy hill. Morty grunted as he managed to lift himself up to a small ledge. Just a little more, you're almost there.
Rick sent another shower of black dirt into Morty's face as he reached the top, dusting himself off. Morty coughed, attempting to wipe his goggles with one arm. "What the hell, Rick! You ass!" He spat, sliding back down the embankment after his footholds collapsed.
Morty landed hard, his knuckles burning and slick. Damn, he thought. Must of busted the scabs open. The once pristine bandages were now wet and muddy, which was a shame to Morty because they had only been applied an hour or so before. What a waste. Morty snorted, yelling up to Rick. "I-I want my fucking suit back, Rick! I can't get up this s-stupid cliff, and it's dark! T-There could be monsters! I could die!"
Rick looked down at him with a frown. "Stop whining like a baby, this planet doesn't even have vertebrates yet," he retorted.
Morty tore the ruined bandages off of his hands, wincing at the sticky blood smeared across his fists. "C-Can't I just wait down here with the backpack then? I mean, t-there's nothing else on this dumb planet anyways and it's not like I can run away. I-I mean, how big is this place? Five miles around?" He said purposefully.
Rick lowered himself to sit on the ledge, pulling his flask out of his lab coat. "No, you can't stay down there. The fruits were just an added bonus, the real reason we're here is up this cliff," Rick snarled, taking a long swig before continuing. "A-And, I never said that there weren't man-eating plants out here, Morty. So ya better hurry your ass up."
A stab of electricity shot up Morty's spine, causing him to snap back so he could stare into the darkness surrounding him. He immediately threw himself into climbing, digging his fingers deep inside the soil to gain traction. "R-Rick! Don't leave me!" Morty anchored himself up, his feet kicking at the empty air. "I changed my mind! Please don't leave me in the dark," Morty yelled after him, quickly scrabbling to the top of the bank.
Rick grabbed his wrists as he reached the ledge, lifting Morty the rest of the way. "Chill, Morty. I was ju-just fucking with ya," he huffed. He dropped Morty to the ground and he tore the boy's goggles off.
Morty gasped, out of breath. His fingers stung from the dirt he'd basically ground into his wounds. "That wasn't funny, Rick!" I hope they don't get infected… is the water here toxic? He should ask the old man… Morty blinked, his eyes adjusting to the familiar darkness.
"Of course it wasn't, your stupidity isn't funny, Morty, just really sad," Rick said condescendingly. Morty glared at his back as the man dunked his goggles into a pool of glowing water.
Morty twitched as he got up, stalking over to wash his hands off. He dropped to his knees next to Rick, roughly scrubbing at the dirty wounds. Morty noticed how the man paused, his eyes going to Morty's bloody hands and up his bruised arms. He suddenly felt self-conscious, drawing back and pulling his long sleeves past his fingers.
Rick gave him a long, empty stare.
Morty ground his teeth as he felt the sudden urge to push Rick over, or punch him, or scream at him. Instead, he just ripped the goggles from Rick's hands, snarling at him with sharpened teeth. "I. Want. My. Suit. NOW!" Morty yelled in Rick's face.
The pitying look was gone in an instant, replaced with irritation. "Ya got three seconds to get outta my face, Morty, or you - you're - I'm gonna throw you back down that fucking cliff. Because you're not getting that asinine bunny suit back."
Morty drew back, his head a mess of contradictions. "Why are you so - so ANNOYING! What do you want from me!" He dug his fingers into his hair, pacing around the clearing frantically. "Everything you say and do is so confusing! Can't you just-" Morty cut himself off with a scream of frustration, kicking a nearby tree.
Rick sat down on a rock, taking a swig from his flask. "Can't I just what, Morty? Give you your suit back, leave ya all by yourself?" The man shook his head, taking another pull. "O-Or hit you? Would that make things easier? If I slapped you around like your old Rick?"
Morty jumped up and grabbed a low branch on the tree, putting all him weight into the limb until he heard sharp cracks. "Why are you acting like this? Y-You're acting like I did something to you," he winced, the branch snapping off in his hands. "I just want some answers! I want to know what I'm supposed to do! I need someone to tell me what to do! You're just, vague and confusing, and I-"
Morty beat the trunk of the tree with the branch, feeling his knuckles burn. "I-I don't know what I want! I need Xax'ic! I need to feel numb again!" The wood snapped in half, crumbling in his hands. Morty jumped up to another branch, intent on ripping it apart.
He twitched violently as Rick lifted him from behind, yanking him off of the tree. Morty kicked, his feet unable to reach the ground. "Okay, little buddy. Calm your shit, I want the same things you do," Rick placated, lowering Morty.
"W-What do you mean?" Morty twitched again, the man's hands still under his arms to keep him from lashing out. Whether it be at the tree, or Rick himself.
"Look… I want answers, you want answers," Rick said, letting go of Morty. "Th-That's why we're here." He let go of Morty, going to dig in some bushes farther away from the ledge.
Morty stared as Rick pulled a cooler across the ground, hidden away in the leaves. "I-I came here while you were taking your good old time in the shower and stashed some goodies," Rick clarified, opening the container. He dug through an assortment of junk food, alcohol, and ice, finally finding a generic soda. Rick threw the can towards Morty, grabbing a bottle of alien beer for himself. Morty caught it with one hand, the other gripping his lenses.
Rick sat down on a rock, setting his glass down next to him as he dug around in his lab coat. "I wanna make a bet. A wager of sorts if ya - you wanna be fancy," he belched, removing a small, metal ball from his pocket. "You, might wanna put your goggles on, ya know, of you don't wanna go blind," Rick advised, hurling the metal piece toward the ground.
The lenses were barely over Morty's eyes when the bit burst into a roaring fire, crackling and sputtering violently. Morty, growled at Rick, sitting on a dried-out log on the opposite side of the flames. "I don't want to play. I don't want to bet. And I don't want to talk to you," Morty said, pouring the soda out on the ground. "I just want my suit back."
"What? Are you scared of losing to a Rick?" The man snorted, taking a swig from his bottle. "Anyways, we gotta go get some shit from a mall or something. Beth got rid of all my Morty's clothes and anything else that he owned after he died, and you can't just wear my old band merch. It's all too big for ya, and there's only one pair of pants that I could find," Rick explained.
"You need shoes, a toothbrush, and other crap I don't have," He grumbled, swirling the liquid in his bottle.
Morty crossed his legs, pulling the hanging sole of his shoe and allowing it to snap back. Rick was right, they weren't going to last much longer like this. It wouldn't do for them if he tripped over his pants while they were running from someone. He felt around in his pant pocket for a sliver of plastic, frowning at the card when he pulled it out.
Distract yourself.
"What does that have to do with the bet thing?" Morty asked, frowning at the card he'd gotten from Micheals. It was dull and had lost it's glow, toxic swirls of color covering the advertisement. When Rick put him in the shower, the water must have ruined it. Morty tossed it into the fire with a sigh, watching the spurt of purple that erupted from the burning plastic.
"You win, and I'll let ya get whatever you want at the place we go," Rick bargained. "Within limits, of course. No masks, weapons, or random shit that you're gonna get just to annoy me."
Morty looked at the plastic curling into itself, melting into a small pile of goop. "What if I don't want anything. What are you getting out of this?"
Rick stretched, his leg bouncing with energy. "Even if ya don't want anything, you get the satisfaction of beating a Rick," the man challenged. "And, we are both getting something outta this game," Rick said, pausing to drink. "Answers."
Morty felt his heart beat fast at the proposition. Answers? He really wanted answers… and to win against a Rick. "What are the rules?"
"Finallllly," Rick moaned, rolling his shoulders. "We take turns asking questions, you can choose to answer or pass, whoever answers the most questions wins. Simple."
"Unlimited passes?" Morty inquired, getting up to dig around in the cooler.
"If ya wanna lose…"
Rick was on his second bottle of beer before either of them began. His leg bounced as he continued to time Morty's twitching fits. He had to admit that he was excited. He had so many questions to ask, and a limited window of time. If he came in too hard, Morty would quit before he could get anything. It would be a complicated game of chance, playing on his observation skills and how far he could get to the boundaries without crossing them.
Morty threw a marshmallow into the fire, watching it go up in blue flames. "Are you gonna ask a question, old man?"
The boy was trying to act unfazed, but Rick could see the anxiety radiating off of his body. How the twitching became more visible, how he chewed on the sleeves of his shirt, like a coiled spring waiting to snap. Morty tossed another marshmallow into the fire.
Pyromaniac…
"How long were you with your Rick," he asked watching Morty closely.
"Two years," Morty deadpanned, hurling more marshmallows into the fire. "How long were you with your Morty?" He asked without missing a beat.
Rick took a few gulps from his bottle. "One year," he said tonelessly. "Why were you with your Rick anyway? Ricks usually crash with their Beths, or live at the Citadel. We don't do babysitting unless we have to."
"I don't want to talk about it," Morty said, hugging his knees.
Rick leaned back, groaning. "Is that a pass?"
"No." Morty replied, a far-off look in his eyes. Rick waited, a few minutes of silence passing between them. "My Rick - I mean my mom… I don't know?"
He gave Rick a pleading look, resting his chin on his knees. "We lived in a nightmare dimension. It was dark, all the time, and there were monsters everywhere. My mom tried her best because my dad died before I was even born. She taught me how to take care of myself, but she didn't have time for me."
"A lot of Beths don't have time for their Mortys," Rick hummed. "So what? Did you run away with your Rick like some angsty teen, thinking you'd go on cool adventures and shit?" There was a bitterness in his voice that made Morty cringe.
"No!" Morty screeched, jumping up from his seat. "I-I would never do that to her or Summer! It was all your fault!" He pointed at Rick. "You ruined everything!"
Rick rolled his eyes. "I'm not a psychic, Morty, ya gotta be a little more descriptive."
"My mom thought that I couldn't handle living in the dark," Morty said, dropping back down to the log. "My sister, she came out perfect. She could stand her ground against any monster, and she took care of me when my mom was struggling to keep us alive. My mom was the only doctor in our town, and people got mauled all the time. She had to balance the community, and getting food, and raising us."
"No matter how hard I tried, I was still weak and tiny compared to the other kids. And that scared my mom. She thought that I was gonna die like my dad," Morty mumbled. "Then you came back…"
"Oh," Rick breathed, hooks digging into his stomach. He knew where this was going. He finished off his bottle, throwing it over the cliff and listening to the smash of glass.
"You - You promised! You promised to take care of me! You told my mom about all these wonderful worlds were there weren't any monsters, a-and all kinds of other bullshit to get her to do what you wanted!" Morty shouted, waving his arms. "And she believed you! She thought that you were going to give me another chance at a life!"
Morty sniffled, digging his fingers into the bruises on his arms. "S-She gave me to you cause she loved me, and I went, even though I knew how awful you really were. I went because I couldn't bare to tell her th-that - to ruin the pedestal she put you on. I-If she knew…"
"Do you want to go back?" Rick asked.
"N-No. I went because I was a burden." Morty stared into the fire, the glow gleaming off of his goggles. "Because of me, my sister had to be a mom, and my mom had to worry and work twice as much. T-They were right. I can't handle monsters or the dark, and I couldn't make it without Summer by my side. I-I used to have nightmares about being ripped apart, and then my mom would find me and blame herself. And if I could go back now, my mom would know what you did to me, and I'd probably die sooner or later anyways."
Morty seemed to pull himself together, taking a deep, steadying breath. "She couldn't handle it. Knowing the shit I went through, and then my inevitable death… it would kill her." There was a pause. "He lied," Morty insisted.
"I know," Rick sighed. "We tend to do that a lot."
"W-Was your Morty like me?" He asked quietly.
"No," Rick growled. "Other than the name and being a pain in the ass, you guys could be night and day. Never ask me again."
Morty crumpled up the empty marshmallow bag, dropping it into the fire. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
Rick disregarded his apology, opting to ask another question. "So, is the twitching normal? Or is it like a side-effect of the drug I should be worried about?"
The boy perked up a bit at the break in tension. "I've had it for most of my life. My mom thought that it was because of my anxiety. Something to do with the stress? We didn't really have anyone to figure out why I had the tick though, but it wasn't hurting me so I just lived with it until..." Morty trailed off, and Rick waved for him to elaborate.
"The twitching made my Rick angry," Morty said. "It's one of the reasons he gave me the Xax'ic. It stopped the twitching and got rid of the other stuff." He opened a soda after staring at it's label for a while.
"Other stuff? Is there something I'm missing here?" Rick scoffed, opening a bottle of hard liquor. He'd probably have to portal home tonight and pick his ship up when he wouldn't kill them both via asteroid.
Morty drank some soda, a curious expression on his face. "I'm a person, Rick. No matter how much you try to pretend I'm not," he said. "I was your shield, just as I am now. You wouldn't even have me if I couldn't protect you from the Federation. My Rick wanted the shield part, without the living thing part. I got hungry, and tired, and scared. The Xax'ic mellowed me out. If I took it, I wouldn't have to eat or sleep or feel. It got rid of the inconveniences."
"You're right, Morty. I don't give a damn about you, or your fucking problems. I wish you weren't a person, cause then I wouldn't have to deal with all this shit," he said harshly. . Wow, he didn't think he could hate himself anymore than he already did. But why was he angry? Everything Morty said was true. The main reason he was even in Rick's custody was because of his shielding capabilities. Rick hurled his half-empty bottle at a tree, the glass exploding in a shower.
The kid glared at him from across the fire, taking another sip from his soda before dumping it out like the previous one.
"But you are. You're a person, a kid at that. Which means I'm responsible for ya when your parents aren't around." Rick closed his eyes thinking hard. "I need you to stay alive so that I can stay alive. Because I'm a sleazy old man that cares more about himself than the fates of entire solar systems. And keeping you alive doesn't mean pumping you full of drugs until you don't know your own name."
Morty opened another soda just so he could dump it out like the rest, studying the fizz and how it mixed with the other brands. "You're weird."
"Is that a question?" Rick asked, feeling drained.
"W-Why do you act like you care? You say that you don't, but I know what 'Not Caring' is. MY grandpa didn't care," Morty snapped, trying to fit pieces of some sort of puzzle together. "Why do you talk to me? You don't have to. Things could just be like before, when I followed my Rick and didn't ask questions. Why can't we just be like that?" He said in a rush, trying to get all of his ideas out.
"Pass," Rick hissed.
Morty stood up, crushing the can in his hand. "That's not fair!" He accused.
"Too bad," Rick mumbled, opening a can decorated with alien symbols. "What? You should be happy. Hooray! You're winning!" He mocked, taking a swig from his new beer.
Morty crossed his arms, sitting down on the ground closer to the fire. "What are the burns on your neck from?" Rick asked, gauging Morty's reaction.
The angry pout disappeared immediately, replaced with a shocked, frightened expression. Rick watched the boy's mental state dissolve within seconds; the proud, rebellious killer changing back into that poor, abused boy. It was miraculous how the kid could flip between personalities so quickly, and then settle back into a neutral air.
Somewhat neutral. Rick thought as he watched Morty attempt to conceal his emotions, still jarred from the question. When he didn't reply, Rick pushed farther, hoping that the interrogation wouldn't break the fragile game they were playing. "I got a good look at them when I was flushing the Xax'ic from your system. Some of the burns are new, but most are on top of older scar tissue. So they came from something consistent - something regularly applied to your throat. It wasn't an accident or a one time deal either."
Damn. He hoped that his logic would keep the kid from trying to lie to his face, and wouldn't scare him away or cause him to lash out. But backing him into a corner was probably the only way he'd get answers… Rick thought to himself, wiping spit off of his face.
"Pass," Morty whispered after a long time. Rick groaned, reminding himself that he could still ask other important shit. Fine, he'd figure it out on his own.
"Aaaand now we're even, Morty," Rick clapped. "Ya - You better try harder of ya wanna win this shit. Do you really want to lose to a Rick?"
Morty scrunched his nose, picking up a stick near his feet and scribbling in the dirt with it. "Did you ever hurt your Morty?" He asked in a subdued tone, somewhat lethargic from the last question.
"Yes," Rick admitted, dark thoughts swirling in his head. Morty gave him a sad look, as if he was expecting a different answer. "W-What did you want me to say, Morty!? That I was a good grandfather? I slapped him, I pushed him down the stairs, and BIG surprise, I got him killed," He vented.
"I didn't mean like that," Morty broke through, concerned.
Rick pushed his own demons out of his mind. Calm down, you old fuck! You're gonna ruin everything! "Okay, okay…" He rubbed his face. "What did you mean, kid?"
"I - Nevermind, Rick," Morty said. He began drawing in the dirt again, sketching monsters from his own world. "It's your turn."
Fuck. He'd just missed a golden opportunity to explore Morty's abuse. And he'd lost it, for what? A blow to his ego? The kid hitting a sore spot? Rick brushed it off. "Why did you kill your Rick?"
"Pass," Morty said flatly, drawing another monster. "How did your Morty die?"
"Y-You're a smartass, you know that, Morty," Rick belched. "Pass," he huffed reluctantly.
"I want to win," Morty deadpanned, adding massive teeth to his lizard monster's gaping maw.
Rick started to count the seconds between Morty's twitches again, trying to disconnect himself from their game. If he let his emotions get in the way, he'd lose. "I was going to ask about the bruises and all the fucked up shit I know your Rick did to ya, but honestly, I think that would be a waste of time. I'm not going to throw my question away for something I already know, Morty."
"You don't know anything," Morty said over the fire, glaring at Rick.
Rick slipped off of his rock to sit on the ground, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Oh, I don't? Enlighten me then, Morty."
Morty didn't answer.
"That's what I thought," Rick scoffed. "So how about the drugs? I know you're not going to admit your Rick got you hooked, so have you ever overdosed?"
He could see the boy thinking, the cogs of his mind working to come up with a good answer. Deciding whether or not to even tell him the truth. A few minutes passed, and Rick waited patiently as Morty drew a plant creature alongside his growing number of abominations.
"Yes. I have," Morty said suddenly. "It was my fault." He scrunched up his face as he thought hard.
Rick looked out into the woods, taking a swig from his can. "Morty, you're a kid. You don't have the capacity to be at fault for this shit. You were with your Rick for what? Two years? That means you were twelve when you started shooting up. TWELVE, Morty!"
"It doesn't matter," Morty said, failing at a new monster sketch. "It was in the beginning, when I was first learning how to do it myself," he rationalized.
"For God's sake, Morty!" Rick shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "You shouldn't be learning how to do drugs! Especially from your grandpa! Even stupid people know that giving your grandkids drugs is wrong!"
Morty became frustrated with his drawing, crossing it out and tossing the branch into the fire. "My Rick usually measured it out for me when I first started," He said.
"So? Do you think that makes it any better, Morty?" Rick asked, hurling his empty can over the ledge.
"You don't understand," Morty insisted, a desperate tinge in his voice. "We were at a party on Birdworld, and Rick was busy so he just handed me the whole vile, and I thought I was supposed to take it all! I filled up the syringe and-"
He cut himself off stomping on his intricate drawings. "I got really sick, and I threw up a lot. Then I passed out in the corner, and I couldn't talk or scream for help. Everyone was partying and didn't realize I was there. I thought I was gonna die," Morty added.
"What happened?" Rick asked, trying to keep his rage from showing. The last thing he needed was to scare the kid away. Not in the middle of a story. He could go blow up a planet or something later. Maybe mess with the Zigereons. Mindfucking bastards…
"Birdperson saved me," Morty ended, scuffing out stray lines from his ruined monsters.
"Birdperson was always good for that," Rick commented, looking over at Morty. "Did you stay with BP a lot?"
"It's my turn," Morty reminded him, and Rick noticed that the kid's hands were shaking. "What's your favorite color?" He asked.
Rick was taken aback the question, and it took him a fraction of a second to realize that the kid is stalling. He's not even sure if Morty knows that this is a game anymore, or if it's something he thinks that he has to do. Not really to prove himself, but to avoid Rick's possible wrath. He shook the thoughts from his head. "I don't have one. I like white though, it's sterile. Clean."
Morty kicked up some dirt, looking around for more stuff to throw into the fire. "White isn't a color," he replied offhandedly.
"And blue isn't a color to a bunch of other aliens, Morty," Rick said, observing Morty as he started to rip branches off of the trees. "T-There's a fucking dimension where things are only black and white too, Morty, and we both know that you don't care about my favorite color, so let's just get this over with and go home."
Morty nodded, plucking leaves off of the branches he tore down. He sat down near the trunk, his back facing Rick. "W-We stayed with Birdperson a lot. He really tried, you know? Birdperson learned what humans eat, and set up a room just for me," Morty said, a small hitch in his voice.
"When things got really bad between Rick and I, he wasn't afraid to step in. I think he figured out that the Rick he knew wasn't the same as the R-Rick he'd become or something." Rick heard the snapping of wood, and assumed Morty was breaking the branch apart. "Squanchy eventually got involved too, and one day we just left and never came back."
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"BP's a good guy," Rick glanced at Morty.
"I know," Morty whined. "So, you have a Birdperson in this dimension?"
"Yeah. Have a Squanchy too. They're good wingmen. They set me straight when things get out of hand, but they let me do whatever the hell I want most of the time," Rick said, an empathetic undertone lacing his voice. "So, we already know about the drugs. Anything else I should know about? Alcohol?"
"Sometimes," Morty replied, stuffing some leaves in his mouth, seeming to forget about the game altogether. "Are these plants poisonous?"
Rick scrunched his brow. "You should have asked that before shoving them in your mouth, you fucking idiot… but no, they aren't. But I should ask why you're eating them when we have a cooler full of perfectly edible junk two feet away."
"My teeth are bothering me," Morty said, spitting out a mouthful of foliage. "I'm not going to eat them, just chew on them."
"That's fucking stupid," Rick echoed, grabbing a random bottle from the cooler. He didn't even read the label, popping it open and chugging half of the bottle. "What do ya mean by 'Sometimes?'"
"When we went to parties, my Rick would make me drink with him," Morty said nonchalantly. "I don't like beer, it tastes awful and it makes my head fuzzy. It makes it harder to protect myself."
"Protect yourself? From what?" Rick asked suspiciously. "I thought you left the nightmare dimension to get away from monsters?"
"Not monsters," Morty mumbled incoherently, putting more leaves into his mouth.
Fuck, he was withdrawing. Not good. Morty turns around to rest his back against the tree, and Rick can see the haunted look behind his goggles. His heart seizes a bit as an idea enters his mind, buzzing insistently. Shit, shit, shit. Please don't let this be what he thinks it is. Fuck, should he ask? Does he even want to know the answer? Some things are best left in the dark, right?
"Did your Rick ever-" shit this is so fucked up "-you know? Touch you?" He asked, despite his reservations. Red flags went up as he mentally kicked himself.
"Wha-?" Morty tilted his head, confused. "What do you-?" Morty's eyes widened as he realized what Rick was asking him. "NO! No! Gross!" He jumped up, covering his face. "Why would you EVER ask that! What the hell, Rick!?"
"Hey! I had to ask, kid! It's just as fucking weird for me!" Rick sputtered.
"Geeze! Why would you ever ask that!" Morty repeated, his face red.
"I'm getting all this hard shit outta the way, Morty, so the faster you give me answers, the faster we get home," Rick clarified, watching Morty collapse back under the tree. "I had to ask because of how you act around people, Morty. I see how you flinch everytime I touch ya, and how you panic around people in general. At the Citadel, in the tavern… normal kids don't act that way, Morty." He explained gently.
Morty hugged himself, a familiar tension in his shoulders. "Morty, if something happened, I need to know," Rick insisted, putting his bottle down.
Morty curled in on himself, turning away from Rick. "Once, an alien grabbed me in a stairwell. He got my clothes off, but I gutted him before he could do anything," he confirmed in a muffled jumble, his face buried in his knees. "Sometimes when I got drunk or high at parties, aliens would hurt me, but that doesn't count."
Rick felt around in his lab coat, removing another small, metallic sphere. He got up and tossed it in the fire, the flames dying in a puff of white smoke.
Neither or them said anything for a long time, and Morty knew that he should have just kept quiet. He got caught up in the competition, even though he didn't really want to win it towards the end. It just felt so good to have someone to… listen to him, for the first time in years. Sure, he'd told his grandfather about aliens who'd gotten handsy, or hurt him in various ways, but it never went anywhere. The most he had gotten out of it was reprimands for being so fucking stupid or a cuff on the head.
The blackened pit left by the fire smoked for a while, gooey puddles of melted plastic smoldering longer than the rest. Rick still sat across from him, alternating between staring at him or at the mess of stinking grass. Morty stole occasional glances at the man, watching his sobriety slip away. Morty's nerves grated with each burp, drool beginning to drip from Rick's chin.
He just wanted to go home. He didn't care about having clothes or a toothbrush; not if it meant that he had to spend more time tiptoeing around Rick. Morty sighed, slowly whittling a stick with a dull stone. He spat out some remaining leaf residue, the pungent flavor sticking to his tongue. Morty wished that he hadn't dumped out all of the sodas, that he wasn't so compulsive.
Rick eventually got up, swaying a bit as he collected half a dozen bottles that had been scattered around their small campsite. He mumbled under his breath the entire time, nearly falling over as he opened the cooler to drop the empty containers in. Morty twitched as glass shattered, followed by Rick cursing to himself.
He straightened up as best that he could while inebriated, dusting off his lab coat and pulling out his flask. Rick shook it, popping open the cap. "Y-You know, MoOOOUURty," he belched, taking a swig. "I-It was - wasn't your fault. Do-Don't ever think that, little buddy," Rick slurred drunkenly.
Morty's arms itched with phantom pains, nonexistent needle tracks still haunting him. "I-I don't know what you're talking about, Rick," he said slowly. Morty got to his feet, tapping the sharpened stick against his leg. "Can we just go home? Y-You're really drunk, Rick, and if monsters come, I don't have my suit or my claws or my knife," Morty rambled nervously, feeling the darkness begin to seep into his bones.
Rick stumbled through the cooling ashes on the ground and Morty matched the man's steps, backing away. His grandfather never had control when he got too drunk. If Morty was in the way, he'd get slapped or pushed, so he had quickly learned to clear a path when his Rick got completely shitfaced. "I-I mean, where was your Rick? He should have beeeeeen there, Morty. Y-You can't be expected to - he was supposed to make sure you were okay, Morty," Rick belched, rubbing his face.
Morty gripped the branch tightly, feeling the bark dig into his palm. "It doesn't matter," he stated bluntly. "I-It was my responsibility to protect myself. If I can't fight attackers off, then that's my own fault."
Morty backed up against a tree, and Rick lunged forward. The man grabbed his shoulders tightly, shaking him. "F-For fuck's sake, Morty! You - you're a kid! Y-Y-You're not supposed to have to protect yourself! Those fucking alien perverts should know better, Morty! Y-You can't consent to shit," Rick went on, his voice rising.
Most of Rick's weight was pressing Morty against the tree, and he guessed that the man would collapse if it wasn't for Morty holding him up. "G-Get off, Rick! Stop touching me!" He snapped, using his free arm to push Rick's face away. "There's no such thing as consent! People do what they want, and if you can't stop them-"
"That's the most backwards thing I've ever heard in my life, Morty!" Rick growled, his speech becoming much more coherent. "A-An adult should never lay a goddamn hand on a kid! I don't care i-if they're drunk o-or high, you don't ever touch kids! Even with adults, everyone has to consent, Morty!"
"W-Well, I guess that I just didn't do it right then!" Morty shouted at Rick, shoving him back. "I'm sorry that I didn't think to say, 'Please don't tear my shirt off in a seclu-secluded hallway,' or 'Hey, Mr. Alien guys, please don't put cigars out on my chest' while I was crying or high on a couch soaked with piss!" His eyes burned with tears as he stabbed the stick into the dirt as he lost control over his emotions.
Rick gave him that stupid, stupid pitying stare and Morty couldn't hold in the anger that bubbled in his chest. It mixed with shame and made him sick. So, so sick.
"I'm sorry, kid. I shoulda been there, I shouldn't have let that happen to ya, Morty, because you're worth something. Y-You matter," Rick told him with a sad expression.
"SORRY DOESN'T FIX THINGS!" Morty screamed, his voice cracking horribly. "Bad things happen to me all the time and no one cares! I'm not worth caring about! Y-You're just trying to manipulate me into being your perfect little pet! But it won't work!" He hiccuped, stabbing the stick into the ground again.
The drunken haze was gone in an instant, a serious look overtaking Rick's face. "Wha-What about if this shit happened to your sister, Morty. Would it be different then?" he said coldly, tilting his head.
"DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT!" Morty's thin grasp on sanity snapped, the urge to hurt, to kill, flooding his mind.
"So it's not the same!? It can't be two ways, Morty! You can't pick and choose morals like-like candy!" Rick antagonized, bracing himself for Morty's inevitable outburst.
"S-Shut up!" Morty darted forward, slamming into Rick.
They both tumbled down to the grass, Rick immediately grabbing ahold of Morty's hair. The man's reaction time was stunted by the amount of alcohol he consumed, and Morty relished the look in Rick's eyes when the man realized that he had fucked up. Morty managed to rip himself away from Rick's hold, the man taking a chunk of hair with him.
Morty utilized all of his strength, using both hand to force the sharpened stick past Rick's defenses. The man barely had time to direct the weapon away from his exposed throat, wood digging into the flesh of his shoulder instead. Rick didn't scream, but he did grunt in pain as he grappled for Morty's arms.
The man used his legs as leverage, flipping Morty over and twisting the kid's arm behind his back. "Ow - fucking dammit, Morty! Y-You little bitch!" Rick hissed, digging into Morty's arm.
"Please, Rick! You're gonna break my arm!" Morty cried out in pain as Rick used his free hand to rip Morty's goggles off.
"No I'm not, you baby! Jesus, Morty! I have a spear sticking out of my shoulder, ya little shit!" Rick let go of him, pocketing the goggles.
Morty fell on his face while trying to stand, grabbing a stone. He rolled over, throwing it at Rick as the man pulled the stick from his shoulder.
It hit Rick in the face, sending the man into a cursing fit.
"Quit it, Morty!" Rick shouted, his shoulder bleeding a bit.
Morty frowned at the small circle of blood. The stick hadn't gone very deep, only penetrating the surface of his skin.
Rick stepped toward him and dread crawled up Morty's chest. He scooted back, and Rick scoffed at him. "We're done here, Morty. I-I don't wanna get into anymore shit tonight," He sighed, backing Morty up into a log.
Rick offered his hand, bending down to Morty's level as he spoke. "I-I just want you to understand that what happened to you was wrong, Morty."
Morty flinched away, twitching uncontrollably. "Well, I don't, so what do you want me to say?"
Disappointment flashed in Rick's eyes, and he frowned. "You know what, Morty? I'm not gonna stand here all night trying to explain why you're wrong. I don't want to talk about it anymore, and I definitely don't want to think about it anymore. We got a super store to burglarize, so let's go," Rick said in a disinterested voice, snatching Morty's wrist and pulling the boy to his feet.
He removed his portal gun from his lab coat, opening a portal and tugging Morty along. "Honestly, I expected more from you," Rick ended.
A led weight settled in Morty's stomach, and he wasn't sure why it felt so wrong.
Morty followed Rick blindly through the store, blinking rapidly as his eyes attempted to adjust to the light. His vision swam, unable to see anything but a white blur. He was completely blind without his goggles. Vulnerable… Anxiety and fear clawed at his heart, and he tried to dig his heels into the linoleum multiple times.
"W-Would you stop dragging your feet, ya little fuck," Rick snapped ahead of him.
Morty almost tripped as they ventured onto a carpeted surface, tightening his grip on Rick's hand. "G-Give my goggles back, Rick! I can't see!"
"That's the point, Morty. You lost your privileges when ya tried to impale me with a stick," Rick said bitterly, abruptly halting and causing Morty to bump into him. "Now, would you let go of my hand? I know you're scared but I didn't think you'd be that desperate for attention," he mocked.
Morty jerked his hand out of Rick's, and the man laughed at him. He felt the brush of clothes against his body, and he guessed that they had made it to the desired isle. Morty heard Rick shuffle around, pawing through the hanging shirts. As he moved farther away, Morty was forced to grab the edge of Rick's lab coat so he wouldn't get left behind.
"Morty, what kinds clothes do ya want? Because we aren't coming back here if you don't like what I pick out," Rick explained.
"I don't know, my Rick usually just came back with stuff," Morty replied.
A few dull memories swirled in his head. Whenever his clothes were damaged beyond repair, replacements were never new, and his Rick definitely never asked him what he wanted. Morty guessed that his grandfather got most of his clothes out of donation bins or even the trash. He'd learned to improvise more often than not; using sharpies to draw his own designs that took away from the conspicuous stains or the huge sizes.
Morty shook the thoughts from his head, thinking hard about what he would want.
No one ever asked him before...
"Come on, Morty," Rick drawled. "As long as it's not yellow, you can have it."
Morty knew that Rick didn't want yellow clothes because of his original Morty, and decided not to call the man out on it. They'd had enough drama for a lifetime.
"Long sleeves, dark colors," Morty settled on shortly, pausing as he briefly thought of what else he might need. "Can I have some jackets, Rick?"
"Coming right up, kid," Rick grunted, throwing clothes into a basket.
Suddenly, something pulled on the back of his jeans. Morty's heart seized in his throat, and he couldn't stop a shriek of terror from leaving his mouth. He swung around, breaking his attackers hold and shoving them back into a rack of shirts. All he could feel in that moment was panic; that he was completely helpless. No weapons, no sight, no way of defending himself.
Morty reeled, attempting to bolt, when something grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him off of his feet.
"It's just me, Morty," Rick assured, and Morty stilled. "I-I was just checking your pant size, it's okay, just calm down. I can't have ya blindly running around an alien super store."
Morty pressed heavily against Rick, digging a hand into his coat. "I want to go back to the house," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Dammit, you're gonna fuck everything up and Rick will leave you. Fucking baby. He's getting you shit and this is how you repay him?
Morty jerked back as Rick slid his goggles back onto his face. "Look, Morty. We're going to hafta talk about some of the fucked up shit that happened to ya sometime, but I'm gonna let it go for now, which is really fucking hard for me to do," he grimaced, handing Morty his own basket from a nearby rack.
"Now," Rick said as Morty looked around the empty store, his sight restored. "While I get your clothes, I want you to go and get your underwear, toothbrush, and whatever other shit you need."
"By myself?" Morty asked in a small voice, frantically scoping out the area.
"Are you scared?" Rick quirked his brow, taking a pull from his flask. "By the way, you won the bet, so grab some junk you'd like while you're at it. Just don't take all night," he continued, trying to act like it wasn't a big deal.
Morty didn't question his win, but he did scurry away from Rick to save himself from more embarrassment.
"No knives, masks, or other weapons!" Rick yelled after Morty. "Meet me by the food court when you're done!"
The garage was cold, signalling the beginning of the end of summer. The dull, orange sunrise peeked through the small rectangular windows of the garage door, bathing the room in a peaceful, picturesque light that belonged in some home-and-garden magazine. It was one of those quiet moments that stuck with people when they thought back on their life. A special, lazy air that seemed to be more prominent than exciting adventures or thrilling accomplishments.
At least it felt that way to Rick, as he was in a sentimental mood that morning.
Rick rocked back in his chair, taking occasional swigs from his flask. He'd begun to liquidize the fruit that they had collected earlier that night, going back for the ship and materials after he had sobered up a bit. It was a rocky ride home, the interior of the ship radiating in awkwardness that he couldn't even begin to explain.
After Morty came back with a basket full of worthless shit, neither of them had the guts to confront each other with the things that were discussed at the campsite.
Honestly, he didn't think that he'd ever be ready to talk about the shit that he'd learned that night. Rick thought, taking a pull from his flask. None of it was right. The things that Morty's Rick let happen to him, and the things that he had done to the kid himself. The boy was scarred in ways that he couldn't even comprehend, or even begin to fathom.
Yet, - despite his every instinct screaming for him to get out while he could - he was tasked with trying to glue the pieces back together.
Because he doubted that any other Rick in all the infinite universes would actually try to if he dropped him back off at the Citadel and bailed.
Rick scooped up one of the jars of purple goop sitting on his workbench, eyeing the liquid as it's luminescent properties faded. To be completely honest, he couldn't even remember why he wanted the shit in the first place. With everything that went down on that fucking planet, his grand scheme of things had shifted considerably.
He rubbed his eyes, another sleepless night weighing down on him, because he just couldn't risk falling asleep with a murderous Morty breathing down his neck. Rick stood up and opened an overhead cabinet, stocking the shelves with the jars until he could remember what he needed the glowing substance for.
Probably drugs. He guessed, but decided that he would find another use if that was the case. Rick looked over at Morty, collapsing back into his swivel chair. After Morty had fallen asleep, he'd taken a trip to his room with a garbage bag, clearing out every illegal substance he had tucked away in his dresser, though he would never admit it.
The boy was lying halfway on his side, his head cushioned with his hands. Art supplies littered the garage floor, and Rick had been fairly careful not to step on them when navigating the room throughout the night. A few glowsticks were cracked and scattered around Morty's body in a sloppy circle, as if they would ward off monsters that happened to meander by.
Out of all the things in an alien super store with anything the universe had to offer, the kid had taken a trip down the arts and crafts isle. He could have gotten everything here on Earth for twenty dollars. Rick sighed, taking one last swig from his flask before getting up; his back cracking horribly.
He tucked the container back into his lab coat, collecting the chalk, crayons, and papers in an effort to organize his workspace. Rick relaxed at the monotonous activity, tucking the utensils back into their proper boxes and stacking drawings on the edge of his desk. He paused to look at a few of them in the dim light out of curiosity, most depicting monsters or mutilated animals that made Rick question why he ever wanted to get another Morty.
There were a few diamonds in the rough that reinstated his decision, bringing him back to the reality of this Morty's age and reason for being like he was. A victim of circumstance. Rick frowned at the less serious pictures of space and lost planets, sometimes even trees or flowers. The kid was a talented painter in landscaping, yet his depictions of living (or dead) creatures took a cartoonish, exaggerated tone.
Rick quickly finished, not feeling up to dissecting the reason behind a fourteen year-old's scribbles.
Morty rolled onto his back, revealing a plastic-handled paint brush sticking out of his mouth. Rick rolled his eyes and crouched down to snatch the drool covered tool from the kid's mouth before he managed to choke to death and ruin all their progress.
Is that what we're calling it now? Progress? Not digging for answers and getting in too deep? Rick shook the thought from his mind, his gaze lingering on Morty's sharp teeth, reminding him how deadly the boy actually was. Trained from birth to kill monsters, and then moving on to people after going to live alongside his Rick.
His remaining family would be back in a few hours, and he was going to have to monitor this killer so that they wouldn't be added to the boy's extensive track record.
God, what had he gotten himself into?
Rick threw the ruined brush into his garbage bin, pacing. This was a trainwreck waiting to happen. Maybe he could just do them both a favor and put the kid outta his misery before he grew up and became as jaded and cynical as himself. Rick's fingers itched for a gun, and before he knew it, he'd opened a draw full of weapons; the laser pistol catching his eye and fitting perfectly in his palm.
He looked down at Morty as the boy curled into a tight ball, soft breaths accompanying a few restless twitches. How in God's name was he gonna fix this? A kid that suffered unimaginable abuse, sexual molestation, drug addiction, and who murdered people. It would be better for everyone this way. Rick reasoned, quietly cocking the gun. He could just tell the family that he had taken the kid back, they would forgive him, and he could wallow on Earth for the rest of his miserable existence.
Rick looked at his new Morty, sleeping fitfully; paranoid of the dangers that awaited him in his time of weakness, suspicious of everyone's intentions and motives. More like him than he wanted to admit.
Rick tried to raise the gun, his hand shaking. Come on Rick, you've blown up planets, murdered innocent people, and allies you've trusted with your life. This kid's just another drop in the bucket, another victim of the uncaring universe. You've only known him for a few days anyways… he's not like...
Rick unloaded the gun, throwing it into the open drawer and adding a newly stolen baby lock to it to discourage Morty. He'd have to Mortyproof the entire house. He thought frantically, his heart still pounding in his chest as he tried to pretend that nothing just happened. It would be funny to watch Jerry bumble around, getting pissed over not being competent enough to figure out baby locks. He laughed to himself - a bitter, insincere sound that resembled a sob.
Suddenly, the world became too much for him to handle, and he bent over his workbench with his face buried in his arms.
He missed his grandson.
Review, like and favorite for more! If you have any questions about the story, don't be afraid to pop by my PM or tumblr. I go by the same account name and try to answer and reply to everyone. Also, I tend to post sneak peeks and in depth stuff on my tumblr, so don't miss out.
I am now taking requests for oneshots concerning Rick and Morty to help with writers block and to stay fresh. Send me a message if you want a specific story written, or have a prompt. Rules are no pairings or incest, and I have the right to deny any idea I'm uncomfortable with. Pocket mortys has a lot of potential and I'd love to hear what Ricks and mortys you can come up with!
PaigeK9, signing off!