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

Author's Note: Only a couple more chapters to go. I was worried with this chapter about keeping Rick in character...hope I've done a descent enough job? (Please let me know! Feedback is always helpful and encouraging to me as a writer.) I can't believe this story has gone on for as long as it has. I generally write my stories starting out with a general idea, but not knowing where they will go. I'm pretty sure where this one is going to end now. It's been one intense long crazy journey..and I Hope that you've all enjoyed the ride!

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"...are...you going to be...okay now?" the young woman asked.

They were sitting side by side together on the curb.

Much to his amazement, the young woman hadn't left: the same young woman who had appeared, it seemed, from out of nowhere, and stopped him from the unthinkable, was watching him cautiously as he abruptly pulled away from her harsh gaze, swiping angrily at tears from his eyes that he wasn't even aware were still there.

She was watching him closely, way too close, and it made him want to either scream or, at the same time, all at once just jump right out of his skin. In all honesty, he wanted to pretend she wasn't there at all, because he'd just broken down in front of a complete stranger, and her pointed stares felt like slaps of accusation instead of innocent, concerned questions. He couldn't even look her in the face. (How could he? He'd just completely fallen apart, sobbed his heart out in her arms, and he didn't even know her name.)

If only she knew the kind of person I was, he thought bitterly, she wouldn't come anywhere near me. If only she knew that this universe is the way it is because of me...that my daughter and granddaughter are dead because of me...she would turn away and run.

Rick's eyes blurred as he tried desperately to focus on the ground in front of him. The moments ticked by, and he thought of Morty sitting back in the fort, alone, doing nothing. He thought of Jerry digging his own daughter's grave in the backyard. He thought of Abradolf Lincler, Krompombulous Michael and King Jellybean. He somehow managed to fight back the rising taste of bile down his throat.

"Mister?" The young woman was poking him with her finger, prodding him. When he didn't respond, she persisted: "I'm not leaving until you tell me you're okay."

"Fine," he snapped back coldly, "I'm okay-okay? You did the 'good sameritan', I'm still alive, so don't worry your little head-you're off the hook, and you can go." With that he pushed himself abruptly to his feet, and turned to go.

"Wait!" She was shouting with urgency at his back, and he froze at once in his tracks, turning back towards her in spite of himself.

What the fuck did she want? Couldn't she just leave him alone, let him go back to grieve privately-more accurately, just completely forget that this ever happened in the first place?

She was standing but a few feet away from him, watching him with a sagging disappointment. "You're just gonna...go?"

"Like I said," he huffed, "We're, we're good here, okay? I'm not worth your time, kid. I'm outta here." Without another word he quickly swung about, silently begging the tears to stay put, he couldn't bear any more embarrassment than he'd already experienced that day.

"Look-I-I just wanted to know...your name..." The words trailed off into an awkward silence, and once again he stopped, and turned back around to face her.

This time, he looked at her-really looked at her. She was looking back at him with what appeared to be, much to his surprise, a genuine sense of complete and utter defeat. Her eyes were glistening with tears, practically mirroring his own, and almost (could it be possible?) as equally exhausted. There was an unspoken question there, begging him to answer it. For the first time in a long time, Rick Sanchez didn't know what to say.

When the silence continued and they both just kept standing there, he was forced to speak the first thought that came to his mind.

"Why does my name matter to you at all?"

This time, it was she who looked sharply away. "I...guess...I just want to know...who it is...that I saved," she said in a voice so low that he had to strain to hear her.

Rick snorted bitterly with a shake of his head. "Who said you even saved anyone?" With that he turned and started to walk briskly away in the opposite direction.

"My name is Jenna." The shout stopped him once again. Her words were like a rope that had snagged dangerously around his throat, threatening to pull him back into a swamp filled with quicksand. Frozen in place, Rick felt his heart sink. He knew this wasn't just going to go away. Her stubbornness was impressive; he knew she wasn't going to just let this go.

Suddenly he felt her hand pulling at his, and her fingers were wrapped around his own. "Please," she said in a halting, yet ever urgent-perhaps even more so-voice, "tell me yours."

Shit. "Look..." Rick quickly retracted his hand and backed away, trying not to stumble over himself in the process. "...I don't travel in pairs, kid." He spoke to the horizon as he talked, knowing he was probably breaking her heart as he did so, but he didn't have the strength or the heart to care. "I'm the kind who just goes it alone. Believe me," he added softly, "it's better that way." Again, he tried to shake the image of Morty sitting alone out of his head.

"...But-you're-the only other human I've met...since..." To his surprise she was starting to sniffle. This woman who had managed to take him down single-handedly, stop himself from pulling the trigger and belted him one in the eye, seemed almost like a child, suddenly so small and helpless, and he couldn't help but look at her then.

She was shaking and had both hands over her eyes.

"Kid-hey, kid. Just, just look right over here at me."

"I'm not a kid!" she shouted at him fiercely with frustration through her tears, "Stop calling me that-my name is Jenna-and I'm twenty years old!"

Jenna. Why did that name sound so familiar? He didn't know, nor had he ever known, anyone with the name 'Jenna'.

"Okay-jeeze-cool it will you? Fine!" He held up his hands in a truce. "Just, just listen to me alright, will you?" He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but somehow, he couldn't stop himself. "Listen up," Rick said as he grabbed her arm and drew her towards him, just inches away from his face. She had stopped crying (finally) and looked at him, questioningly, the anger seemingly disappeared. "Listen to me," said Rick, "carefully."

She was, and he continued, forcing himself to look her in the eyes, declaring softly, "we're not the only ones still here."