[Author's note: warning for suicidal themes]

"R-rick?" Morty asked, tapping tentatively at the glass of the ramshackle spaceship. He glanced back toward the Mystery Shack, where Dipper and Mabel were watching from the front door with some concern. He waved at them, hoping that Rick's sudden outburst hadn't frightened them too badly.

There were scuffs in the gravel driveway where their feet had scrambled for traction.

The door of the ship opened a half inch. "Fuck off," a voice rasped quietly, before the door shut once more. A few strands of blue-grey hair could be seen fluttering through the windshield, though the pilot's seat was empty.

"Rick, you're acting really str- really weird."

There was no response.

"Um... are you okay?"

A breeze rustled the pine needles above Morty. In his periphery, he saw Stan emerge from the shack, place a hand on each of the twins' shoulders, and shepherd them inside. Soos was nowhere to be seen. It was unbearably quiet.

"Can I come in?"

Rick remained silent, but after a few moments Morty heard the telltale click of the door handle. He gripped the cool edge of the metal panel and opened it.

His grandfather sat on the floor, knees pulled up toward his chest. He patted the surface next to him, sliding over to the other side of the cramped ship. Morty's eyebrows raised, but he squeezed himself into the tight space under the steering while and closed the door behind him.

"There's something I gotta tell you," Rick muttered, not meeting his grandson's gaze. "You're not gonna like it."

"Okay?"

"Look... Morty..." Rick pulled out his flask. He took a long draught from it, wiped his lips, and took a breath. Morty frowned. "Um. I don't really know how to say this. But Beth... uh, your mom. She. Um." He swallowed.

"What happened?" Morty's voice rose in pitch. "Rick!"

Rick covered his eyes with his hand. "She's dead, kiddo. I'm sorry."

"W-what?" Morty felt a vacuum open inside his chest.

Rick opened his eyes, gazing at the boy. "I know she wasn't your real mother. But she thought she was. And-"

"Bullshit."

"I mean, I know we buried her real Morty, but you can't deny that-"

"Bullshit! She isn't dead."

"Mort-"

"I saw her. Right before we left. She was fine. She was having a glass of wine."

"Mort."

"I don't believe you."

Rick looked hurt. "It's the truth."

Morty made a strangled sound. "No!" He bit down on his knuckle. "Prove it," he mumbled. "If it's the truth then prove it."

"I... can't," Rick said. He took another sip from his flask. It burned against his too-tight throat, and he coughed.

"There has to be proof!"

"Sometimes the truth hurts more than the alternative."

Morty whined, curling himself even tighter into the space between the seat and the wheel. Rick reached out toward him with a shaky hand, but the boy swatted it away.

"No! You know what? I-if you won't prove to me that she's dead, then I'll prove to you that she's a-a-alive!"

"Morty..."

The kid was faster than Rick had anticipated. Before he knew what was happening, Morty leaned forward and snatched the portal gun from his exposed pocket.

"Morty!" Rick roared in warning. He scrambled forward, but Morty was gone in an instant, swallowed up by a spiral of green that winked itself out of existence before the old man could follow.

"No!" Rick punched the door of the ship. The clang of skin on metal reverberated against the otherwise still air of the forest.

When he emerged from the ship a couple of hours later, his knuckles were still wet with blood.

"Are you gonna mope out here all night?" a high-pitched voice asked from somewhere to his left. He cursed, nearly dropping his flask. Stan's great-niece walked up, gravel crunching under her feet.

Rick didn't turn around. A warm breeze drifted out of the pit, tousling his hair. He stared into the sinfully black cavern, trying to make out the bottom. If he had looked up, he would have seen a rich purple sky above him.

"Maybe. You're gonna give an old man a heart attack, sneaking up like that. It's Mabel, right?"

"Yep," she replied smugly. "Mabel Pines, best sneak in Gravity Falls."

"Shouldn't you be sleeping or something?"

"Nah. Did you and Grunkle Stan used to be boyfriends?"

Rick choked on his liquor.

"'Cause I don't wanna pry," Mabel continued, "but Stan's been acting weird today, all sweaty and flustered, and he usually only gets like that when there's a lady he likes close by – not that I'm saying you're a lady – but I think that maybe-"

"Okay, okay, my god," Rick stammered, cutting her off. "You have no filter, do you?"

"I'm just curious." She kicked a rock. It tumbled away into the dark hole, hitting the side a couple of times before disappearing forever. Rick couldn't hear it hit the bottom, but then again, his ears were as old as the rest of him.

"It isn't bottomless," she added. "Not really."

"They usually aren't," Rick grumbled, eyeing the wooden picket sign - 'bottomless pit' - with distaste.

"Are you going to jump?" she asked curiously. She didn't seem concerned.

"Not with you watching," he replied, a little annoyed.

"You wouldn't die. Well... not from falling. Falling never killed anyone." She took a step toward the hole, as if to prove her point.

"No, but grievous bodily harm due to hitting the ground from a long way up might. Hypothetically." He took another swig.

Mabel giggled. "Hypothetically," she agreed. "Did Morty run away?"

Rick sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment. "How did you kn- figure it out?"

"You told him about his mom, right?"

The scientist dug his nails into the flesh of his palm. "Did Stan tell you?"

"He said she died, but he didn't say anything else. He seemed kind of angry."

Rick scowled, but nodded. "Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah, Morty ran away."

"We can call the police if you want."

Rick shook his head. "Interdimensional interdiction isn't a road you want to go down. Not even for family."

"So you lost your daughter and your grandson, and now you want to jump into a bottomless pit."

"Maybe. Haven't decided."

"It's a good escape," Mabel said, taking another step toward the edge of the pit. "Jumping, I mean."

"That's the plan," Rick said, eyeing her carefully. She was getting uncomfortably close to falling in. "Now why don't you go back inside? Don't you have like, TV to watch? Or something?"

"Nah. This is much more interesting." She took another step closer. "It's safe. Trust me."

"Mabel!" Rick stood, swaying. "Get ba- get away from that ledge."

"Trust me," she repeated with a wink. She turned her back to the pit and leaned, arms extended outward. She hung in midair for an interminably long second before disappearing into the gaping mouth of the pit.

"Mabel!" Rick shrieked. He watched in horror as she fell, back-first, into the cavern. Without stopping to think about it, he dove in after her.

A rush of air whipped past, causing his lab coat to flap behind him as he flew into the black hole. He instinctively streamlined his body, flattening himself to gain speed. Within seconds, he had grabbed the hem of Mabel's knit sweater. He yanked her close to his chest with one arm, reaching for his portal gun with his other hand.

The gun was gone.

Of course the gun was gone.

Morty had stolen the gun.

They were going to die.

Bile rose to the back of Rick's throat. "Oh shit," he whispered. "Shit shit shit shit-"

Mabel was laughing at him. "Rick," she shouted. The wind ripped her words from the air almost as they were spoken. "Rick, we're fine. Look."

They tumbled through space, the blackness so absolute that Rick couldn't gauge how far away the walls were. They continued to fall.

And they fell.

And they fell.

Rick squeezed Mabel a little harder than was strictly necessary, his fingers digging into her side. His legs flailed, sending the two of them into a sloppy helix.

"F-f-fuck," he squeaked, shivering uncontrollably. "Y-you can't be s-serious."

"Of course I'm serious, silly!" Mabel squirmed as she tried to find a more comfortable position against the man's bony chest.

"It's an actual b-bottomless p-p-p-uh, purgatory."

Mabel settled with her head tucked against his collarbone. "I prefer 'refuge' myself. And I told you, it isn't bottomless."

Rick swallowed painfully. "What, um." He licked his lips, trying to control his stutter. "What do you mean?"

"It'll spit us back out in, oh, twenty minutes or so."

"I... don't understand."

"I don't either! But it's a nice break. Sometimes." She wrapped her arms around Rick's skinny frame, somewhat dismayed when her wrists met somewhere in the middle of his back. He made no move to reciprocate the gesture, but did not loosen his grip on her sweater.

"So you're saying..."

"You wouldn't have died."

The only sound was that of the warm wind rushing past. Rick didn't say anything for a long time.

"Fuck," he whimpered after about a minute. His voice cracked. "Fuck."

"Anyway," Mabel said calmly, "I thought you could use a hug."

One of Ricks' hands flew to his hair, ripping at the pewter strands. He let go of Mabel. He placed his other hand in his mouth, bit down hard, and screamed.

Mabel grimaced, tightening her hold on the old man. Their spiraling gradually slowed until they were falling in a straight line, though it was beginning to feel considerably less like falling at this point.

"I'm sorry," she offered kindly.

Rick sobbed loudly, unable to do much else. His hands froze into useless, shaking claws, ravaging his face and scalp without even trying. Tears floated upward from his cheeks.

Mabel squeezed him tighter.

Somehow, time passed.

Rick felt himself falling in the wrong direction. His backside hit something hard. Mabel detached herself from his chest rather abruptly.

"Damn it, Sanchez," Stanley's voice whispered from behind him before he felt himself lifted into the air once more, albeit much more gently. "Go to bed, Mabel," the voice vibrated against Rick's side, intending to be heard now. "And quit playing in that stupid pit!"

"Yes, Grunkle Stan," Mabel's soft voice responded. A small hand patted Rick's hair once. Then it was gone.

Rick wept quietly. His eyes hurt.

The next morning, he woke in a bed.