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

Author's Note: Just bare with me; everything comes together in time!

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When Morty woke, the bed was empty and Summer was gone, and with it her warmth, leaving goosebumps on his arms and an ache in his heart. Shivering in the half light that was struggling pathetically to filter through the curtains, Morty gathered his books and his notebooks, and tossed them into his bookbag.

Stealthily he crept down the hall, stopping at Rick's bedroom. Of course, Rick was out cold, dead to the world, and Morty cringed at the stench that was seeping out of the room. (Geeze-when was the last time his grandfather had taken a shower?) As quick as possible without making any noise, he made his way steadily over to Summer's door and knocked, twice, softly on the door.

No answer. Her door was locked, and if she was awake, he wouldn't be finding out any time soon; his sister was not a morning person as it was, and, especially today, Morty knew better than to push it. His heart sinking further, Morty headed downstairs to have breakfast by himself and get ready for school.

God, how he could use some of his mother's homemade pancakes right about now. At the thought of her, Morty pushed away the lump in his throat, and sat there silently, watching his cereal grow soggy. It didn't matter if there were other Moms and Dads in alternate timelines. He was in this timeline, and it still hurt….hurt more than Morty had ever thought imaginable, and his stomach ached with a seemingly bottomless sadness that threatened to devour him whole.

How did Rick do it, time and time again? Somehow, Rick could face his own mortality without a blink of the eye; could simply swoop down into a completely different timeline and look his own dead body in the face without any affect whatsoever, without a second thought. He could bury his own dead body and then go about his day as though nothing bad had even occured. Meanwhile, sometimes the empty soulless eyes of his own alternate's deceased body still made Morty quake and shiver, and he still had nightmares from time to time; he wasn't sure if he could do it again.

The bus would be coming in five minutes. Morty put his unfinished bowl of cereal in the sink and went to the end of his driveway, wondering if Rick or his sister would even care that he had left. He hoped that nobody had notified the school (though he couldn't imagine who would; Rick sure wouldn't care). All Morty wanted was to be was invisible, if just for a day, and forget about it all; just move from class to class, and ignore anyone if they talked to him. He was used to being a wallflower anyway. (Maybe though he'd talk to Jessica; no, he definitely wouldn't ignore Jessica.)

The bus came, and Morty got on. He sat far in the back and stared out the window, watching as everything flew magically by. Kids climbed all over the seats but it didn't matter if they stood on him, or climbed over him, or even sat on his head. All he had to do was get through the day alive. That was all he cared about. If he could get through the day alive, he could do anything; he'd already been proven time and time again, and even Rick had taught him in so many ways that "nothing was impossible".

So, Morty went to his classes but he didn't learn anything; he didn't know what the teacher was saying. He went to lunch but didn't eat; nothing appealed and he wasn't hungry. At the end of the day when the last bell finally rang, he ran out for the bus, but a car honking to his right got his attention.

Wait-what? It was Grandma and Grandpa Smith, in Grandpa Smith's old 1985 Cadillac Seville that he was so proud of and always kept in mint condition. There was Summer, already in the back, on her phone and not paying attention as usual. (What he hell!?) His grandparents on his father's side only visited on holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving. Those were always cheerful events. His grandparents did not look happy to see him; they looked sad and aged. Morty's stomach turned; he wanted to find a bathroom and throw up, but, instead, he trudged slowly over to the car. As he did, his grandparents parked and both got out. Morty's first instinct was to run; instead, he stood stock still.

"Grandmom? Grandpop! What, what are you doing here?" Morty squeaked.

"Oh, my baby…" His grandmother wrapped him immediately in her arms, and Morty could barely breath as she nearly suffocated him agains her bosom. "I'm so, so sorry, I'm so so sorry!" His grandmother was weeping against him as Morty struggled to gasp in air.

"Can't-can't-breath-gramma!" Morty somehow forced out between breaths.

"Joyce, let the boy go." His grandpa's stern voice interrupted the reunion, and Morty let a breath of relief escape as his grandmother finally released him from her grasp. "It's good to see you son…." Morty couldn't look his grandfather in the eyes as he spoke; Leanard Smith's eyes were glistening with tears, and Morty had never seen a grown man cry. "I'm….just sorry that it's under such….sad and tragic circumstances…"

"How did you-where did you-" Morty's eyes fell on Summer. Summer. She must have called them. Morty's heart flipped: did Rick know?

"Your sister called us about the news this morning," said Joyce breathlessly as she dabbed at her swollen red eyes. "We're here to pick you two up. You're going to stay with us for awhile."

Morty's eyes widened with horror, "But-but-but Rick-"

"Your grandfather will be just fine son." Leanard gently pat his grandson and motioned slowly towards the car. "Come on with us and we'll all go get some good food at the diner. We can talk about this all after a good hearty meal."

"No, I-it's-I can't just-" Morty blurted out, but for some reason, his legs wouldn't allow him to run, and he found himself being led into the car, and Summer shifted a bit as he got in, but kept her eyes frozen to her cell phone.

"It'll be okay Mortimer," Leanard spoke gravely. "Your grandmother and I have prepared ourselves for a time like this. Let us handle everything."

Morty felt a horrible sinking sensation then, and he wanted nothing more than to get out of the car, but it looked like his door was locked from inside, and his insides froze with fear. What was happening? What about all his stuff at home?

No. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't just leave Rick…..