Rick's eyes fluttered open to see a tall rectangle of light in front of him that was even brighter than the lamp. Rick briefly pondered how he wasn't dead yet.

In the middle of the luminous block was a person shaped shadow that melded in with the other colors of the room in Rick's vision.

His eyes were about to close again when he snapped himself awake to hear when the person spoke. "Rick? Is that you? What happened?"

Rick tried to respond, but was too weak to even make a sound.

He heard the person march toward him, even graze his bullet wound, which sent a wave of searing pain through his lanky form.

Rick recoiled at any further touch from the stranger. "That doesn't look good." The person pulled out a phone and clicking was heard.

The last thing Rick remembered before becoming unconscious was the feeling of being in the air and the transition from hard ground to a soft bedding.

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Morty sat in his upscale dungeon cell, his new home, with his arms curled around his legs. He was trembling uncontrollably at the situation that just occured.

He thought it wouldn't happen again. It couldn't have. But it did. And worse. Morty felt completely numb, like his entire body was flash freezed. He couldn't scream or cry even if he tried, even though he probably should.

Morty thought about how he learned the repression. From Rick. He's also the one who left him to get hurt both times. But the teen couldn't feel resentment for his grandfather. He couldn't even feel the anxiety about his condition he held with him.

Morty wanted to feel something. He wanted, even desperately needed, an emotional reaction to his recent trauma. He needed a reminder he was still human, still alive.

Even though the dungeon was well built, Morty found a decent sized piece of cobblestone chipped off from the wall and used one of the jail bars to sharpen it.

This wasn't the first time he'd done this. This was his first method of coping. He knew where it would go, so no one would notice.

When there was a small hill of shaved stone on the ground, Morty decided it was good enough and began utilizing it for its intended purpose.

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Rick slowly awoke to, again, bright lights. But these lights were a more pure, heavenly light than in the garage. Rick also felt much stronger. He could shield his eyes from the brightness without too much difficulty. Maybe this was heaven. Maybe there was a God.

However, Rick's observation was proved wrong when a hospital room came into focus.

He heard a door open and a male in a doctor's jacket approached him. Rick tried to move his other arm, but had to tug on an IV to get it to go anywhere.

"Good, you're awake," The doctor said, retrieving a clipboard from the front of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like fucking shit," Rick lied. He didn't even really know why. He just wanted the doctor gone.

"Well, that would be common with the trauma you recieved." The doctor looked behind him at the door he entered from. "You do have visitors. Would you like to see them?"

"Not in the mood," Rick hissed. "Just give me the waiver so I can leave." He started to get breathless at the end of his sentence, proving he was still weak from the injury.

"I wouldn't advise you to do that, Mr. Sanchez," the doctor explained. "You have a serious injury that needs to be attended to, and if-"

"I don't care," Rick interrupted. "I'm gonna leave whether I sign your damn waiver or not."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Very well." He pulled a sheet from the clipboard he was holding and a pen from his jacket. Rick scribbled his name on the paper and shoved it back to the doctor. He stiffly removed the IV from Rick's arm and left the room.

Rick swung his legs over the bed and stepped out. Without whatever painkiller was in that IV, he felt much more sore, and the full reprecussions of his injury sunk in.

He instinctively placed his hand on the wound, which made contact with a soft cotton bandage. He remembered the "visitors". Fuck them. He just needed to get back to the garage, make another portal gun, and find Morty.

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Morty dropped the bloody stone on the ground, which landed with an echoing clack. He lied on the ground, staring into the darkness of his cell. Morty felt so weak, helpless. The king's words and actions kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

Arta burst in and stomped up to Morty's cell in her classic hostile fashion. "Get up. The king needs you again."

Morty felt stiff from fear. He willed his limbs to move, but they refused.

"Fine! Be that way!" She ripped the cell door open and yanked Morty out of his position. He still felt paralyzed from panic.

A loud bang could be heard from farther into the castle. Arta froze in her tracks when the squirrel squire darted in. "Princess! You can't go in, it's too dangerous!"

"Why not?" Arta asked.

"Someone just shot the king!" The servant exclaimed.

Morty was finally able to move. Loud footsteps pounded through the corridor, getting closer as they approached the dungeon.

Arta removed her grip on Morty and dashed out of the room behind the servant. Another loud bang, this time followed by a gruff grunt.

Weakness enveloped Morty when he saw Rick dash into the dungeon. Without saying a word,

his gtandfather aimed his portal gun at the wall, summoned a portal, and pushed Morty in.

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Morty stepped into the garage of his house, heavily breathing.

"That was pretty fucked, w-wasn't it Morty?" Rick said.

"Fucked!?" Morty yelled. "I could've been killed, Rick!"

"Jeez. Morty, relax. We do this all the time. Quit being a baby."

"Shut up Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "This was different. I..." Morty faltered.

"What, Morty?" Rick began. "W-What was so damn traumatizing that you just can't bear to say it?"

Morty clenched his fists and snapped his eyes shut to attempt to block the tears pooling in his eyes, despite a few leaking out. "I-I, uh, um,"

"Spit it out, Mortimer!" Rick shouted. He was pissed that Morty wasn't telling him anything. Too pissed to worry about his deteriorating relationship with his grandson.

"I got raped!" Morty blurted out. He sank to his knees and sobbed in his hands. "And before too! The first time..."

King Jellybean. He'd shot that bastard for a reason. Now some other fuckface did the same thing? It was probably that new king he also killed. How could he have been so stupid?

A slight heavy feeling made itself apparent in Rick's legs, banishing his anger. "Morty,"

"Save it Rick," Morty cried. "You won't help. I have to drink some nights just to make it through the nightmares."

A realization dawned on Rick. That's why he was sick that morning. Why his stash was light. Why he declined in the first place.

"I'm not going on any more adventures with you. My life was better without you." Morty shakily rose from his spot on the floor and exited the garage.