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

Author's Note: Some chapters will be shorter than others; doesn't mean that if they are, they will be less significant... As a writer I have to end on a note where it feels right. Thanks to everyone who's still reading, reviewing and favoriting this story: it helps keep me motivated! I appreciate all of your feedback, and special thanks to "romeocitychicag" for always providing excellent constructive criticism!

The 'Guardian' was dead. This much was certain.

And it was by his own hand. A self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Rick stared blinking down at the man whose face was all he'd ever known, for as far back as he could remember. It had never been a handsome face, that face; it was scarred and grotesque, and always devoid of empathy. The blood that had since gushed from the wound was starting to coagulate and thus harden, and the smell of rotting flesh was beginning to fill the room.

He stared at the dead body and looked down at himself.

There were tracks of blood smeared on the floor left from his own two shoes.

A wave of nausea overcame him and he fell to the floor, vomiting on the already stained white tile floor. He retched several times until there was nothing left, and then, he forced himself to look again at the body: the 'Guardian's'. HIS 'Gaurdian'. The one who had given him shelter, took him in from the cold when nobody else had wanted him. What had driven the man to insanity? Rick could only imagine, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

What was he going to do now? If there was any way of outside contact, the 'Gaurdian' had never let on, and Rick couldn't ever recall seeing a contacting device of any kind. (Even if he could, who would he call? He didn't know anybody outside of the lab.) He'd also never disposed of a body and-as pathetic as it sounded-didn't know in the least where to begin. It seemed only right that the 'Gaurdian' should have a proper burial of some kind….but that meant that he'd have to drag the body out of the lab and find some solid ground to dig a hole in, which meant...he'd have to go….

Out.

The only way to go "Out" was by way of the 'Gaurdian's' own portal gun, which was to "never be touched" except by the 'Gaurdian' himself. Now, for the first time in Rick's life, he would be able to use the device he'd only dreamt of for so long of using himself. Now, for the first time, he had free reign of the lab and all of its equipment: except what would he do with it, now that the 'Gaurdian' was gone? The computers and other machines that surrounded him from all corners of the emaculately clean room continued their incessent beeping and humming. The portal gun was nowhere to be seen.

Rick sat where he was and stared blankly at the body, wrestling desperately against his desire to run. He could leave right now if he wanted to; what was really keeping him here now? Nothing-the 'Gaurdian' was dead. What was beyond the lab? He'd always wanted to know, but the 'Gaurdian' would never talk about it. (For all he knew, it could be another lab….endless rooms within rooms in a chamber of time that never ended.)

Rick rested his head down on his arms. His skin felt flush, almost feverish, and suddenly all he wanted to do was sleep.

Psst!

The sound made Rick jump and swirl around: a voice? Was that a voice?

Psst-Psst!

Rick jumped to a standing position and turned in a complete full circle.

It couldn't be a voice. Was he losing his mind?

Psst-kid! Hey KID!

Rick froze at the words. They were no longer possible rodent noises. This was a full sentence in his native tongue. "Wh-who's th-th-there?" Rick stammered. His own voice made him wince; he'd always spoken in a stutter for as long as he could remember. It was probably why he and the 'Gaurdian' rarely ever talked.

KID-over here! Hey! KID!

Rick's stomach dropped as the voice persisted-was he hearing things? Or was there actually someone else in the room? He couldn't imagine how; he could see the expanse of the lab from every angle, and there couldn't possibly be-

"Wh-who are you?" Rick demanded of the voice as he swung all about in all directions, trying to locate the source. "I-I-I-I've got a-a-a- gun," he shouted in as threatening a voice as he could muster, "a-a-and I'll shoot!"

No you won't, kid.

"H-h-how the h-hell do you know!" How could a voice that didn't exist make him so incredibly angry?

I'm harmless kid. Trust me.

"W-why would I?" Rick squeaked. He hoped whoever-or whatever-owned the voice couldn't see how much he was shaking.

I'm locked up in here kid. Couldn't hurt you if I tried. But I wouldn't want to. No need.

"W-who the hell are you!" Rick shouted. He couldn't remember ever being so mad and the sound of his voice rising took even him by surprise.

I'm on your side kid. I've been locked up for years in here, just like you.

"Y-y-you're a rotten f-f-f-ucking liar!" Rick forced the words through clenched teeth.

Wish I was a 'Liar', kid. Look up here if you don't believe me.

Against his better judgment, Rick found himself staring straight up at the ceiling. How he'd never seen it before was something that would haunt him for some time to come: there was a hole in the ceiling separated from below only with a sheet of wire mesh. To his horror, Rick could see two eyes peering down at him from above. Pins and needles overwhelmed his body but Rick could only keep his eyes trained on the stranger in the ceiling.

"W...wh...who….?" Rick couldn't finish the sentence.

"Name's Squanchy," the stranger answered promptly with delight before he had to ask. "Squanch to meet you-you don't have to tell me yours."