Rick groaned upon realizing he was still alive. Then he froze. He was in a bed. How had he gotten there? He opened his eyes hesitantly, preparing for the worst-case scenario. Upon seeing that he was in a hospital (best one in the universe), he groaned again. So he had failed.

"Good morning, Rick," came a voice from his right.

Rick rolled over to face his grandson, Morty. He was wearing a gray hoodie and looked completely disheveled like he hadn't slept all night. "Where'd that hoodie come from?" Rick asked.

"Well, you sicked up all your sleeping pills onto my shirt," Morty snapped.

Shit.

Rick winced as last night's events came back to him. "Sorry you had to see that," he apologized. "Lezz jusss go home now," he slurred.

"You're not going anywhere until the doctor clears you," Morty said firmly.

"Bullshit I'm not," Rick grunted, searching for his portal gun.

"You won't find your portal gun," Morty said, clearly annoyed.

"What'd you do with it?" Rick asked gruffly.

Morty held up his hands. It was then that Rick noticed Morty was still holding his note. "Relax. I left it at home."

Rick sighed and rolled back onto his back. Morty stood and walked over to him. He threw the piece of paper down on his chest and angrily asked, "Remember this?"

He took the wrinkled note in his hands and noticed the tear stains on it. But Rick hadn't been crying when he wrote the note. That meant Morty must have been crying over it. A pang of guilt hit him right in the stomach. Morty wasn't supposed to get hurt.

"M-m-morty," he stuttered. "Why're youEURGH sad?"

Morty glared down at him and scoffed. "Why am I sad?" he asked. "Seriously?"

"You weren't supposed to get hurt," Rick stated plainly. "Don't shed any tears over grandpa-"

"Shut up!" Morty screamed. "Don't tell me what not to do! You tried- you t-tried to-" he broke into sobs.

Every limb hurt, but Rick pushed himself up into a sitting position and pulled Morty into a hug. "I'm sorry," he said softly, rubbing soothing circles on Morty's back. That was all he could say. Morty cried harder, burying his face into the sleeve of his hoodie.

When he had cried himself out, Morty looked down at his grandpa. "Why'd you do it?" he asked.

"I didn't think I mattered anymore," he admitted. "I was losing you to your schooling, and I just missed you so bad that I- I couldn't go on without you."

Morty sighed and sat down on the bed. He wrapped his arms tightly around his grandpa. "You're not losing me," he said. "You're never gonna lose me. Admittedly, I've been a bit busy, but Rick, I live for our adventures. It just wouldn't be the same if I got some random Rick to replace you. It's you I need."

"Ok," Rick said, acknowledging his grandson. "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again."

"Do you promise?" Morty asked through his tears, and Rick felt his heart breaking all over again. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. He had hurt Morty, and that was the one thing he was never supposed to do.

"I promise," he said.

"Good," Morty replied. "Because if you leave me, I'll be alone. I can't be alone, Rick."

Rick sighed. The boy only had one friend, and despite the family therapy four years ago, things weren't great between his parents, and he didn't have his sister around anymore.

"I'm not leaving you, kiddo. Not yet anyways. Grandpa's really sorry, please don't cry Morty."

Morty sniffled and wiped his face on his hoodie sleeve. "You're gonna be ok, right?"

"Yeah, Morty," he responded. "Grandpa's gonna be just fine."

Morty had stepped out into the lobby to get a glass of water when he saw Liz entering the hospital. Her familiar green hair was tied up in a bun, and her eyes had bags under them, probably from flying all night. He ran up to her, and the two embraced tightly. "How are you doing?" Liz asked.

"I've had better days," Morty replied.

"So tell me, what happened?" Liz asked, pulling away. Her eyes were full of concern.

"I got home and the whole house stank. I found him in the garage. He-" his voice broke at this point "-had swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills and vodka. I woke him up, and he threw up all over me. Lucky for him, that means he didn't have to get his stomach pumped."

"That's awful," Liz replied. "Did he say why he did it?"

A tear escaped Morty's eye as his voice wobbled. "It's my fault."

"Hey," Liz said softly, pulling him into another hug. "It is not your fault."

"I-i-i've been so busy with schoolwork, and- and Rick thought he was loosing me, and I-" Morty broke into a sob.

Liz rubbed his back gently. "It's not your fault," she repeated. "Hell, you saved his life by waking him up. Who knows what could have happened if it weren't for you being there exactly when he needed you?"

"I wasn't there when he needed me," Morty argued. "That's why he did it."

Liz sighed and pulled away. "Look, Morty, you're going to have to forgive yourself for being busy." Morty looked down at the floor to avoid eye contact. "Can you do that?"

"No," Morty answered honestly. "I of all people should know what it's like. Hell, I tried the same thing just four years ago."

"And Rick was there exactly when you needed him," Liz interrupted.

"Yeah," Morty responded with a sniffle.

"And now, you're gonna do the same for him. You're not alone in this, okay Morty? I'm gonna be right by your side the whole time."

"Thanks," Morty responded. He wiped his eyes on his hoodie sleeve. "Do we admit him to the psych ward?" he asked.

"Well, we can't force him to stay against his will," Liz responded.

"I was forced to stay here against my will," Morty complained.

"You were a kid," Liz explained. "There's a difference. Besides, I don't think the psych ward's what he needs."

"Then what does he need?" Morty asked.

"He needs you, Morty."