Author's Note: Last chapter. Pretty heartbreaking stuff. This particular chapter was inspired by the song Ashes of Eden by Breaking Benjamin. Hope you enjoy the chapter. But you might wanna bring tissues.

Rick slowly paced to the chair by his workbench and sank down. His life was better without him? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Rick felt confused. Morty was traumatized by all of their adventures? He didn't show it. He guessed his grandson was just a good liar. Good at hiding it, like he was.

Rick pushed it from his mind. Again, the kid was probably just being a baby, like usual. Everything would be back to normal in an hour. Rick scooted his chair to more easily reach his alcohol stash under his workbench. He cracked open the cooler to find only empty glass bottles preserved in a bed of ice.

"Fuck me," Rick cursed to himself. The portal gun he hurriedly fashioned to save Morty was a piece of crap, so he tossed it after they got home. Rick had no other way of getting booze.

He decided to ride it out. He grabbed the contraption he was working on before the disastrous adventure with one hand and a screwdriver with the other. The device was pyramid shaped with a flat top. Rick was working on a hologram type apparatus that could record messages.

The more Rick tried to busy himself with the device, the more he kept thinking about what Morty said. It wouldn't leave his mind. The thoughts about his grandson's words were driving him crazy.

Why was he worrying so much about this? Everything would be fine later, he yelled at himself. Rick willed his brain to repress the thoughts. He began to more aggresively work on his new invention.

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That night, Rick only felt worse. The rest of the family went out for dinner. Rick decided to reject the invitation and ate alone.

Again, Rick stuffed the thoughts and feelings deep inside of himself after he trudged back to the garage. He shoved the device he was tinkering with to the side. That wasn't working to numb his pain.

Rick wasn't used to being sober for this long. His mind was like a dry forest, his recent trauma lightning that struck a brittle tree. The flames of self directed rage and resentment licked at his psyche, lighting up Rick's body with a hot anger.

Why was this so damn important? The scientist couldn't seem to drown out this trivial worry. What the hell was wrong with him? What the hell was wrong with Morty? Why the hell would he steal from him? Why did he lose his shit now?

"Morty," Rick growled under his breath, trying in vain to restrain his bubbling temper. "Why is he such a fucking idiot?" Rick's voice rose to normal volume. He felt like an idiot talking to himself, but he disreguarded it. "Why didn't he just tell me? Why didn't he object? Why didn't he fight like usual?"

Rick's words turned into wispy sounds as he fought against his emotions to speak more. "Why didn't I see it? Why was I so stupid? Why am I so selfish?"

Rick planted his elbows on his workbench and threw his head into his hands. A burning despair pervaded Rick's being. He hated having to deal with such strong emotions. Rick had no way of obtaining any booze, either. He was stuck with his stupid feelings.

His mixture of rage and depression drove him to shove his invention off of the workbench. He wanted that failed distraction out of his sight. It reminded him of how incompetent he was.

Afterwards, Rick regained control of himself and stared at the apparatus tilted on the ground. That was dumb, he thought to himself. The flames of despair were extinguished by the sharp sting of guilt.

Rick screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to ride out the first wave of shame. It always grew duller afterwards. Rick knew that much about guilt after carrying it around in his heart for so long.

However, it didn't this time. With no alcohol to numb the signals, Rick's emotions were crying out to be heard. Pulses of guilt surged through his lanky body, mostly his legs.

His empowered feelings told Rick one thing. He had failed his grandson. He failed Morty. His only friend, the only person who would really put up with him, and albeitedly, understand him, was broken. Because of him.

Rick's shame evolved into a cloud of depression that enveloped him. He lost all of his energy, letting his arms simply hang off of the chair.

Unity's note popped into Rick's head. He couldn't change. She was right. He couldn't change. His brain was a broken record with that statement. Rick felt his throat close up and the corners of his eyes prick with unshed tears. He tried to sniffle as quietly as possible and quickly swiped his eyes to banish the tears. He wasn't going to cry over this.

That promise furthered Unity's words. He was never really able to cry. Another example on how he couldn't change.

With every passing second, Rick slipper further into the dark pit of self loathing he was all to familiar with. He felt suffocated by the hopelessness, even finding physically breathing a little bit harder than normal.

Morty said his life was better without him. He can't change. Morty's life really was better without him. Rick doomed his future. He couldn't do anything with his life when Rick was slowly taking it over. Rick ruined Morty's life.

But not just Morty was better off without him. Everyone was. All Rick did was cheat, lie, steal, kill, destroy. All without a second glance. His emerging humanity was finally punishing him. Rick concluded that the world was better off without him.

Rick reached into a drawer by his workbench and pulled out a small silver pistol. He dragged his finger along the smooth, cool exterior, mock examining it. He checked inside the chamber. One bullet, just like he left it.

Rick's hands uncontrollably trembled as he rose the gun to his open mouth and placed it inside. He felt as if his trigger finger was drained of strength. a small voice in his head whispered to him. Don't let go, don't let go. don't let go.

The voice persuaded Rick to place the gun down on the workbench. He was rapidly blinking tears out of his eyes. The miniscule encouragement he had before swiftly vanished, leaving him with his thoughts once again.

Everyone eventually dies anyway. What does it matter if it's now for him? At least he got to take his own life. Rick tried to convince himself that was the reasoning behind his actions, but his body knew the truth. Rick was going to do it to set his loved ones free. To set Morty free.

Rick reached for the video device he slammed to the ground earlier and clicked it on. A red light signaled that it was recording.

"If you're watching this, it means that I kicked the can." Rick began. He spoke his final words into the device, actually finding some spare alcohol in his flask during the recording, which unfortnately, didn't do much to numb his pain.

Rick turned off the device, grabbed a pad of yellow sticky notes and a black ink pen from the corner of his workbench, and scrawled "To the Smith Family" on it. He stuck the message onto the front of the recorder and set it exactly in the middle of his workbench, not sure why he wanted it so precise.

Rick picked up the gun again and just as shakily as before brought it into his mouth. Tears were streaming down his face as he strugged to apply the necessary pressure in his trigger finger to shoot.

Rick swallowed his fear. Everyone does it at some point. Everyone deserves better than you.

Rick managed to choke out the words "Shine until there's nothing left but you." He slowly pulled the trigger of the pistol in his mouth, splattering blood everywhere and stealing what was left of Rick's life.

Author's Note: Want to know what happens next or what Rick's full message was? Go read Rick's Death, the sequel to this story.