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

Author's Note: I know this chap is short, just bare with me! :) Please review, it helps keep my muse motivated!

When Rick finally woke, a whole day had gone by and it was night again, leaving him wondering if he had slept at all; he didn't feel rested. "UGH!" He stirred in the bed and the room spun; his stomach turned, and his head ached something horrible. The events of the previous evening rushed by in a blur. Rick snuck a look at the alarm clock on his rickety night stand: 7:30. Which meant he'd slept all day, because he'd gone to bed the previous night around 8pm; he'd been sober enough to somehow know that.

Getting up felt like climbing Mount Everest, but somehow he managed to pull himself to a standing position and stumble out into the hall in the dark. "Mmmorty?" Rick slurred, peering down the dark hallway. The kid was usually still up at this time, but there was no light on; he'd probably crashed after school, Rick figured as he staggered his way down the hall.

The night light that Morty typically left on was off, and Morty's bedroom was empty. Curiously, Summer's room was equally quiet, and there was no sliver of light peeking from under the door. The house was eerily quiet; much too quiet for a Monday night. Usually the kids were watching TV with Jerry around this time, and Beth, if she didn't have a later shift, was in the kitchen making dinner.

Beth. Rick halted in the hallway, struggling to breath against the wheezing sound his chest was making, sucking in the drool that was pooling on his chin, trying to steady himself against the wall and the pounding ache in his head. He would have to make his own dinner tonight, and the kids'. They were probably hungry by now. They'd have to be satisfied with a Jerry-style meal (microwavable dinners). Rick hated to cook.

He had to drag himself to the stairwell and made his way down slowly, decending into further...darkness? Where was everybody? The living room was dark, as was the kitchen. It felt like a tomb.

"Morty?" Rick flicked the kitchen light on as he headed to the garage. He peered in: no Morty. Was this a joke? Were the kids pulling some kind of a prank on him? Morty never went out in the evenings unless it was with him. If they were pulling a joke, Rick was impressed; he must have taught them well.

Rick reached in and grabbed a beer, chugging heavily as he stood in the harsh light of the empty kitchen. Suddenly he was starving. He moved for the cabinet, but the light blinking on the answering machine caught his eye, and then he saw it: a letter that was on the counter right beside the answering machine.

Immediately Rick snatched up the letter and tried to ignore his growling stomach as his eyes scanned the page:

Grandpa Rick,

Morty and I are at Grandma and Grampa Smith's, and we will be living here now. We can't stay with you. Please don't try to come after us. I am sorry.

~Summer

By the time Rick had finished the letter, he was shaking with rage and his hands were practically ripping the piece of paper apart. Sorry!? She was Sorry!? That dirty blonde bitch, she had always hated him, and now she was taking Morty away from him! How would he go on any adventures without his Morty shield? How dare she leave him for Jerry's parents, of all people! And Morty hadn't resisted? He'd just gone along with it? Rick couldn't believe it; he'd thought Morty would have at least tried to escape the situation, but there was no letter from Morty.

He could barely think straight when he pressed the Play button on the answering machine. Rick slumped into the nearest chair, suddenly exhausted, listening to Leonard's voice brutally calm voice assault his ears: "Um...Rick, this is Leonard's Smith….We tried to call you, and Summer told us you were sleeping, and we, well, we didn't want to disturb you...we will be looking after the kids for a bit, um…..they wanted to see us, and, you know how hard this is for all of us…"

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and felt his stomach churn, but he kept listening:

"...Now, I don't mean to be rude, but, well...these kids," Leanard went on, "these kids need some...stability in their lives...someone who is going to be awake when they get home, to help with their homework..and...they need a female in their lives as well…I'd suggest you...take a break for awhile, and get yourself sober, because, well...I hate to say this Rick, and I don't mean you any disrespect, but...if you don't help yourself, there's no way you can be these kids' gaurdian. They need an adult in their lives, Rick...and from what I hear, you haven't really been fitting the role…"

Rick had heard enough at this point, and before Leonard's could finish he'd yanked the machine from its socket, the wires fizzing and then going silent, and Rick stood with the palms of his hands pressed deep onto the countertop, his eyes stinging with a burning sensation he'd never felt before. Can't see...can't see...gotta wash my face...can't see. He stumbled to the sink and flushed his face with water, soaking his shirt, but he didn't care. What the fucking hell. Who the hell did that man think he was? What exactly had Summer been saying about him? Why did he even care?

He didn't, that's what; because Rick was going to get those kids back, regardless of what the stupid Smiths thought-and he was going to do it his way. It was the ONLY way.