"Morty, stop staring at me like that. I'm gonna be OK, and you oughta get out of here and *Cough!* *Cough!* go to school." Rick said flatly.
"It's still dark out! And it's Saturday! It figures the one time you actually want to let me go be a normal kid and go to school, it's not even open, and, and…" Morty started to object. Then, something occurred to him, and, becoming almost frantic, he quickly switched to, "Holy shit, you never tell me to go to school! You're always talking about how it's a waste of time and not a place for smart people, and how you're doing me a favor every time you pull me out of there! Oh, man. You must be a lot sicker than I thought, Rick! Here, let me see. You feel warm. Like, you've definitely got a fever. At least, I'm pretty sure you do. But it doesn't seem bad enough for you to be hallucinating, or your brain melting, or…"
At this point, he had one hand pressed against Rick's forehead and the other on his right shoulder. A look of surprise crossed Rick's face when Morty first knelt down to check his temperature. That was a nice gesture, but now the boy was caught in a wave of worried rambling he couldn't stop. And frankly, Rick needed him to stop.
Grabbing Morty by the shoulders and shaking him, he said, "Morty, listen! Shut up and listen! *COUGH!* I am going to be fine, and you need to calm down. You're right about one thing, though. 'Go to school?' I am just as surprised as you are, not to mention disgusted, that I couldn't come up with something, anything better than that. I can see how that set off more alarm bells than the actual alarms from earlier. Listen close, Morty, because I will not repeat this, understood?"
"O-okay. Go ahead." Morty stammered, still holding onto his grandfather's shoulder.
Rick took a long swig from his flask, then continued, "I don't get sick often, Morty. It's been years since the last time. *Achoo!* Maybe decades? Hell if I know at this point. But when I do, it fucks me up bad, no matter how minor an illness it actually is. Even just a stupid cold like I have is enough to… Errr, I mean, like the Mimicking Disease is making me think I have, ummmm…" Struggling to keep his train of thought, Rick realized he'd let something slip that he hadn't meant to. He hoped Morty hadn't noticed, but the look on his grandson's face quickly dashed that hope. The concern was still there, but it was now mixed with annoyance and realization.
"Uh-huh. You don't say." Morty said, pushing past Rick to get a look at the computer screen displaying the test results. They were still there, clear as day: A strain of rhinovirus, often referred to as the common cold. Morty re-read the words several times to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was, then turned back to Rick and asked, "God dammit, Rick. Do you seriously just have a fucking cold?!"
Rick tried and failed to think of a new lie, and, coming up with nothing, nodded in response. As if emphasizing the fact, he sneezed loudly again. Both he and Morty sighed.
"Let me guess. Summer figured it out. Or was at least close to figuring it out. And that's why you sent her away?"
"Yep." Rick admitted, sounding defeated and wrapping his arms around himself. He was sure it wasn't usually this cold in the garage.
"Rick, isn't that dangerous? What if she gets in trouble?"
"Morty, r-relax. Nothing's going to happen to Summer, except being bored out of her mind for a few days running dull, lame-ass errands I've been putting off because I didn't want to bother with them. And she'll probably be super pissed off at me about it when she gets back. *Cough!* Trust me, nothing on that list is interesting enough to be dangerous. Your sister can take care of herself just fine, but to be on the safe side, I didn't send her anywhere crazy. Since, you know, I'm clearly not up to any rescue missions today." Rick explained, the annoyance in his congested voice palpable at that last part.
"Okay, I guess that makes sense. Sort of. And why did you want the rest of us to leave?" Morty asked, skeptical but willing to accept the explanation for now.
"You're really gonna make me say it? Fine. Your mom would have caught on before long, too. This whole thing is stupid, and I would've preferred if no one knew about it. So much for that. Not to mention, unlike what I was pretending to have, colds are very contagious. *Achoo!* The more time any of you spend around me, the more likely you'll get sick, too. Speaking of which, you should get lost, Morty. Go help your dad, or I dunno, maybe you go spend the day with Gene?" Rick grumbled, turning his back to Morty.
"What? No! Why would I want to go spend the day with Gene? Why is that your go-to today? Nevermind. Doesn't matter. I still don't fully understand why you thought it was better for us to believe you have some weird alien virus instead of an ordinary cold, but that doesn't matter right now, either. You're sick and somebody needs to take care of you. Mom would clearly be the best choice, but you made her go to the horse hospital five hours early. So now I have to do it." Morty sighed, tossing a blanket around Rick's shoulders.
"M-Morty, no. You don't have to do that. I don't need you getting yourself sick by hovering around me all day. And no offense, but what good are you actually hoping to *Cough!* accomplish? It's a stupid fucking cold. You're just gonna stand there watching me cough and sneeze out a bunch of phlegm until this thing's finally out of my system. That uhhh, doesn't exactly require an audience." Rick argued, inching away from Morty and pulling the blanket tighter around himself.
"Yeah, yeah. I know all that. I also know if you're left to your own devices, you'll just sulk and probably not even bother to get off the floor all day. I'm not letting you do that today, Rick. Come on. Up." Morty insisted, grabbing Rick's arm and trying to pull him to his feet. Rick gave him a dirty look – his plan clearly was to stay sulking on the garage floor – but reluctantly let Morty help him up.
"Fine. I'm up. Now what, Dr. Morty?" he asked sarcastically, grabbing his already half-empty tissue box.
"Well, ummm… Aw geez, when was the last time we had to deal with, like, a normal human problem like this, huh?" Morty mumbled, realizing he had no plan.
Ignoring the smug look on Rick's face, he thought about it for a few seconds, then said, "I know. First, we need to get you into your actual bed to rest. Then, uhhh, I should see if we have medicine. For like, normal sicknesses. Not serums for regrowing body parts or antidotes for alien poisons. I mean, I know we have those things, but they won't help with this problem. Besides that… Well, I don't know, exactly. But that's a good start, so let's just do that for now."
"What-*COUGH!*-ever." Rick grumbled, scowling and sniffling as he let Morty lead him out of the garage.
"Good luck, Morty. Trust me, you are going to need it." the AI called after them. Rick flipped her off.
Meanwhile, Jerry was in the attic, surrounded by several medium-sized cardboard boxes.
"Okay, I know it's here somewhere. How were these organized again? Alphabetically or by release date?" he muttered, starting to go through one of the boxes of VHS tapes.
"Wait, why is El Hazard with Revolutionary Girl Utena? Those certainly wouldn't be next to each other alphabetically, and they were released in 1995 and 1997, respectively. Were Beth and I trying to organize these tapes by some kind of thematic connection, maybe? I could understand that for display purposes, but it seems a little silly for storage. Wait, that one random volume of Kimba the White Lion we own is in this box, too? What kind of theme were we going for, exactly? Unless…" Jerry said to himself, continuing to pull tapes out of the box.
Then, he had a realization and slapped himself in the forehead, loudly complaining, "Dammit, that's right! We couldn't agree on whether to sort by title or release year, so we just started tossing tapes in boxes all willy-nilly. Well, this is certainly going to delay me by at least a few hours." He looked around at the collection of boxes with a defeated expression for a few seconds, then stubbornly resumed going through the box in front of him.
"There. Isn't this better, Rick? It's too cold out in the garage. And lately you're always just passing out in there instead of ever bothering to go to bed. I mean, like more than you usually do. Might be why you got sick in the first place." Morty said, sitting Rick down at the foot of his cot.
"Are you fucking kidding me, Morty?! You don't actually get a cold from being cold. This isn't some 90's sitcom or S-Saturday morning cartoon! Please don't tell me that in the middle of feeling like I got hit by a garbage truck, I have to teach you elementary school shit like how viruses work, Morty! I swear to God, if the next thing you do is ask if I went outside with wet hair…" Rick raved, immediately jumping back up.
"Dude, calm down! It's not that serious. And I, I know how viruses work, okay? You caught a cold because you were near someone else who had one. Maybe they sneezed on you or something. Not because the garage is cold, and you keep passing out in there. Not that that's a good thing, either. But you're sick now because you were around some germs, not because of that." Morty stated, a little surprised by the outburst. Sure, Rick was short tempered, but he hadn't expected that to be such a hot button issue.
"S-sorry. Didn't mean to *Cough!* *Cough!* bite your head off there. It's just, I'm a scientist, Morty. I can't abide hearing nonsense like that, in this day and age, from someone who should know better. And ev-everyone should know better, but especially a member of my family." Rick sort of apologized. He grabbed the blanket, which had fallen when he jumped up.
"No, no. I get it. But you know, Rick, things like not sleeping right, or spending too much time in environments where it's cold and drafty, that can weaken your immune system. So even though, yeah, you can't actually get a cold from any of that without being exposed to some germs, it can make you more susceptible when you, ya know, are exposed to them." Morty couldn't resist pointing out. This earned him an "if looks could kill, he'd be dead in a second" glare from Rick, but surprisingly, no further arguments.
"Dammit, I think I like it better when you and your sister are stupid! Seriously, Summer saw through my act in like a second, and now I have to sit through a biology lesson slash lecture from you?! I want to be mad, and I am, but at the same time, I'm sorta impressed. Maybe even proud? Ugh, I really must have a fever." he complained instead, sitting back down and holding his head in both hands. Morty looked at him sympathetically.
"Hey. It's alright, Rick. I mean, that's your influence on us, right? So, ummm, you should be proud. But I guess I can see how that would be annoying… even if it's something you should be happy about? Maybe I don't understand, after all. But it doesn't matter. You just hang in there, and I'll be back in a few minutes with something to make you feel better. Why don't you uh, change into pajamas or something? You know, get more comfortable. I'll be right back, okay, Rick?" Morty said, giving Rick's knee a gentle tap before turning to leave.
A miserable murmur of "Uh-huh." followed by another series of coughs was what he got for an answer. Morty hurried off to look for medicine.