Chapter 2 is up and running! Thank you all for the lovely reviews! I'm so happy to see such positive reception and eagerness for more!

Don't own a damn thing of Rick and Morty. Ain't it tragic.

The phone ringing grated on Rick's ears like auditory sandpaper. He'd barely collapsed into his lumpy and uncomfortable bed a half hour ago.

Rolling over, he shuddered at the feeling of his sweat-coated sheets against his shirtless skin (why the hell didn't Birdperson have A/C anyway?) and moaned at the sudden pounding of an oncoming hangover headache worsened by the unwelcome aural stimulation of the phone, the moan turning into a groan when he saw the time. Who the fuck would be calling at 4:30 in the goddamn morning?

Oh well, who gave a shit…he needed to answer it and tell whoever was calling to fuck off, he didn't appreciate being roused by a phone call at such an ungodly hour and he was sure Birdperson wouldn't either. If he was even home, that is; five years after allowing Rick to move in with him, the hybrid creature was becoming more and more inclined to crash other places if he knew Rick was out drinking himself into a stupor, a frequent occurrence. Rick never knew exactly why; they'd been friends for so many years, Birdperson knew about Rick's demons all too well. After a while Rick reasoned that just because Birdperson knew, that didn't mean he wanted to be around it. It made Rick feel like a douchebag college roommate, but any trace of guilt tended to dissipate after a few shots of vodka.

Rick fumbled for the phone, finally managing to grasp it after slapping the nightstand twice and smacking his knuckles once. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he picked up the receiver.

Angry response forgotten, the hungover man drawled a simple but exhausted, "Hello?"

There was a pause. Then, "Dad?"

Rick was instantly awake.

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

He'd dreamed about this so many times, his daughter calling. They'd have the liveliest conversations and Rick always took so much comfort in hearing her voice. The dreams always ended with Beth asking when he was coming back. Rick always woke up before he could answer her. He didn't have an answer anyway.

When he'd left his phone number with her the last time he saw her, he'd expected a phone call almost immediately. He'd felt so guilty about leaving without saying goodbye (again) that he didn't even care if all she wanted to know was when he was coming home. Even if he didn't have an answer, he just wanted to hear her voice and let her know that he was okay.

One year passed, then another. The call never came. The silence grew unbearably deafening.

Five years on, and he'd accepted it. A small part of him had tried to convince himself that she was better off without him. She had a husband and two amazing kids; what did she need her dad for? She'd basically replaced him with another family at this point.

But Rick really hoped he wasn't dreaming now. He swallowed. "Beth?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me. I need to tell you something."

Rick wasn't sure what to say next. This was the closest contact he'd had with his daughter in half a decade, he didn't want to mess it up.

"O-Oh yeah?" he said casually, propping himself up on the bed with his elbow.

"I'm pregnant again."

Rick's stomach dropped. He definitely wasn't dreaming.

Pregnant. Again?

A slew of potential reactions circulated through Rick's mind. God fucking dammit, that fucker Jerry knocked his daughter up for the third time. Was this intentional? Weren't they happy with the two they already had? Did she just find out, or was she already 8 months along and about to burst at the seams? Did she want him to come home when she was ready to pop out the kid? He wasn't sure what kind of position he would be in to come home whenever that was going to happen.

Recognizing the too-long pause for a reaction, Rick internally slapped himself and chose to layer on happiness over all of the anger, confusion, worry, and stress. Beth sounded happy, and hey, one more grandbaby might be kind of nice.

"Oh! Th-th-that's, that's great sweetie!" he replied jovially, wincing when he heard himself. He sounded so fake.

Thankfully, Beth didn't seem to notice. As Rick listened to her ramble on: ("…I only just found out yesterday…this wasn't a planned thing, but we swear this will be our last one…Summer wants a girl, Morty actually doesn't have a preference, he's just excited to be a big brother and he doesn't want to be the youngest anymore…") it gave him more time to process the news. And formulate an appropriate response for what he knew was coming ne-

"So do you think you can be here when the baby comes?"

Shit. He didn't think fast enough.

Because he really didn't know. The baby wouldn't be here for months, and with the tumultuous life he led, he really had no idea where he would be months from now. While there was more than a good chance he'd still be enjoying free room and board from his best friend, there was also a possibility that he would be on some distant planet or remote galaxy on the run from the Galactic Federation…or outside the home of Unity, his old flame, trying to win it back for at the very least a one-night stand…or at the mercy of the Council of Ricks for Rick-related crimes he didn't commit…or just blackout drunk in a bar somewhere.

Rick massaged his temple with his free hand, all this contemplation wasn't doing his migraine any favors. Turning his daughter down always broke his heart as much as it did hers. "Sweetie, I just don't know if I can-"

"Dad," Beth interrupted, an uncertain-sounding firmness in her voice.

Rick clammed up. He had a feeling this conversation was going to end much differently than he had anticipated.

Beth took a deep breath and continued. "I really want you to be here for this. I completely understand you not being here when Summer was born. I do. It was a tough time for all of us and I know you didn't want to contribute to the tension." Rick knew she was sugarcoating that; if he had been present for Summer's birth, he would have torn Jerry a new one, then torn his head off.

Beth shakily sighed. "But you know how traumatic it was when I had Morty. I needed you to be here in our time of need and you weren't."

Rick's chest tightened. He really didn't want to be reminded of that. He had been living with Unity, in hiding from the Federation, when Morty was born. In his own self-centeredness, he had very little contact with his daughter at that time and therefore didn't know much about his newborn grandson. Beth had told him the whole story when he had visited; Morty was premature and was born not breathing. He had spent weeks in the NICU and miraculously came home unscathed, with no eye problems, brain damage, or any other medical issues common in preemies.

Beth pushed through the awful memories. "I don't know what the future holds. I don't know what's going to happen over the course of the next nine months, and I know you don't either. But what I do know is that this is going to be my last baby and your last grandchild. This is your final chance to share such an incredible moment with us, and if things…don't go according to plan, I want you to be here to get through it with us. Summer and Morty ask me every week when you're coming back, and I want to be able to tell them that you'll be here when the baby is born, so they can have their new baby brother or sister and their grandpa to look forward to."

Rick sat back against the wall. None of what his daughter had just said was meant to attack him, but somehow it was just the verbal beatdown he needed.

Reality had just punched him dead in the face. He had two amazing grandkids that he had missed out on from the beginning, and he was about to have one more. One more and that was it. His absolute very last chance to redeem himself to his daughter. He knew that if he didn't show up for this, she would never forgive him.

He knew he had been making excuses for far too long. The next nine months may have been unclear and potentially fraught with danger and hardship, but no intergalactic government, no hiding place, no yearning for sexual release, no threats from a self-hating congress, no enticing alcoholic beverage, and no hostility towards a bitter son-in-law would keep Rick Sanchez from seeing his youngest grandchild.

With all of the sincerity he could summon, Rick answered…

"I'll try, baby. I'll really try."

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