Disclaimer: I don't own "Rick and Morty".

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A shrill alarm snapped Morty awake, just as the first rays of light were streaming in through the window. At first, all he could think about was how hungry he was, and how exhausted he felt. Then, as his mind began to clear, scenes from the night before began to filter in….and Morty felt his throat run dry as he recalled how….crazy, how out of control Rick had been…

His heart began to beat, wildly, almost thumping itself out of his chest.

Morty hugged his knees to his chest, shivering slightly, but it wasn't from the draft of cool morning air. It was because he was alone-alone-which meant Rick was gone, and to where, Morty had not a clue. Perhaps he would come back at any second and hurt him again. Morty tried to gulp back his fear but his stomach flipped in spite of himself. He was downright petrified, and bewildered, and didn't know what to do next.

The whole thing felt like a nightmare-had it even really happened?-Morty had never experienced anything like it before in his life. He simply ccouldn't understand it. What had gotten into his grandfather, to make him act that way? Morty tried to push the vision of his grandfather's cold and threatening eyes as he bore them down into Morty's soul. Morty could only imagine what had caused this unpresidented change, but he knew none of the reasons were good. He'd never thought Rick would ever hurt him, especially not that way, and it had hurt not just physically, but deep in the very marrow of his bones, at the very core of his soul. Even though Rick was an ass a lot of the time, Morty loved his grandfather...and he thought he'd gotten to know Rick enough to trust him, completely-even trust him with his life. Now, Rick-for reasons he couldn't fathom-was acting like a complete stranger-like he was a complete stranger….as though he didn't know Morty at all, or didn't trust him, or thought-Morty couldn't understand it-like he was an enemy towards him.

The very thought of it brought unbidden tears to Morty's eyes, but he squeezed his eyes tight to keep them at bay. He was going to have to figure something out, and he'd have to do it like a man-by using his head, instead of like he usually did, with his heart. Rick didn't rely on his feelings to solve problems, Morty knew; that wasn't his style. This time, Morty was going to try to follow his lead-because for reasons beyond his comprehension, Rick wasn't being Rick, so he would have to be Rick for him.

All this thinking, however, had caused him to lose his appetite. He knew he'd have to make an appearance at the breakfast table even so (he didn't want anyone to worry) so he reluctantly slid from the bed and dragged his feet out the door and down the hall to the dining room, where he knew his family would be waiting.

And they were just like he expected-sitting there around the table-but they weren't waiting. Everyone was already digging into their food.

And Morty's heart nearly skipped a beat-because there, sitting at the table, was Rick-eating breakfast and drinking orange juice, just like any other day.

Morty froze; his stomach dropped to his toes, and he felt his blood run cold.

"Mort?" his father greeted him pleasantly without looking up from the morning paper. "Finally come to join the family? Come on over and take a seat."

It took a few moments before Morty could move and for the pins and needles to subside. When they did, he passed by Rick without looking him in the eye and reluctantly joined the rest of the family as his father had requested.

A plate full of freshly cooked scrambled eggs and sausage waited for him, a feast for his eyes, but his stomach protested immediately just at the sight of them.

"Honey?" His mother's voice filtered in with gratingly sweet concern. "Aren't you going to have any….? I made eggs and sausage-it's your favorite, right?"

"S-sorry Mom-I-I uh…" Morty's face flushed bright crimson as he pushed the food around with his fork. "I kinda have a, a stomach ache, um…" His eyes traveled slowly over to Rick, who was continuing to eat without interruption, seemingly not concerned one bit with Morty's lack of appetite. Morty couldn't take his eyes off the man, and after a second or two, Rick's eyes lifted and met his grandson's, suddenly realizing that he was being watched.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Rick snapped with a defensive glower as Morty continued to stare, and when Morty flinched as though he'd been slapped, Rick dropped his fork to the table with alarm. "Jesus h. Christ Morty-" Rick hissed as he leaned over the table, "you-you're looking at me like I've got three, three heads or something! What, what the hell's gotten into you-"

"Maybe he's staring at that gigantic wart on your nose, Grandpa Rick," Summer interrupted with a calm smirk on her face as she continued to type away on her cell phone.

Rick shot her a look of complete and utter disgust. "Nobody asked you Summer!" was his automatic retort before turning back to glare again at Morty. "You better spit it out Mortimer," he declared flatly as Morty stared down at his untouched food, his face beet red with embarrassment, "because you're making my fucking skin crawl on all fours, grow a tailbone and run away screaming!"

"It's, it's nothing-just, just f-f-forget it!" To his mother's astonishment, Morty promptly pushed the plate away and distanced himself at once from the table.

"Honey what about your food!" his mother called with unrestricted panic filling her voice, as Morty ran from the room.

"I-I'm gonna be late-I'll eat at school!" Morty lied.

He was actually relieved that it was Thursday, because he'd be in school all day, distracted with class work, and later, he'd hole himself up in his room, and try to forget that Rick even existed, and hope that somehow he'd managed to come back to reality, and that the whole crazy thing had been just one weird long dream.