Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Morty woke up, feeling determined. It’d been a while since he was meaning to ask Rick to go on his own adventure. No Rick, just Morty. It was a nice challenge, and – Morty slightly blushed – he wanted to have a specific adventure. Something akin to a planet inhabited by tall and curvy redheads. Or maybe to a dimension where Morty would be worshiped as a god. Arousal nested in his groin, and Morty put his hand on his half-hard cock, wondering whether he had time to jerk off very quickly. 

“Morty! Summer!” his mother shouted from downstairs, and Morty breathed out with disappointment.

Sure, he needed to get ready for school, but, on the other hand, the boy doubted Rick would let him off his hook. He must have already planned something for them. Right. In the midst of another adventure, Morty would ask his grandfather to let him explore other planets and dimensions on his own. Even if for once.

Morty dressed up and went downstairs, sniffing the pleasant smell of fried eggs and waffles.

“Hurry up, Morty!” Beth sounded displeased as she was filling a plate for him. “You’ll be late for school! And I’m being late already!”

Morty sat down and looked at Summer, who was taking her time, taking photos of her breakfast.

“Why don’t you say anything to Summer?” he protested.

The girl scoffed.

“My friends give me a ride. If you had any, you would also be covered,” she said, without even looking at him.

A heavy hand laid on his shoulder, and Morty looked back to see his grandfather.

“He doesn’t need any friends, Summer,” the old man said, sitting down next to Morty, “he has got his grandpa to get his back.”

Patting the boy on the shoulder, Rick looked at him.

“Am I right, kid?” he asked.

The boy nodded.

“Sure thing, Rick.”

Morty could see that content look on his grandfather’s face. Rick loved being right, and it was taken for granted – or granite, as Rick would say – that others would always agree with him.

“Beth, sweetie, pass me those eggs and bacon, will you?” 

Suddenly, his mother wasn’t hurrying to her job anymore. With a big, sincere smile, she was putting dishes in front of Rick. Scrambled eggs and bacon, waffles soaked in syrup, coffee, and orange juice. Jerry coughed and shook his newspaper.

“Thanks, dear.”

And Rick started eating. Meanwhile, somebody honked outside, and Summer jumped to her feet.

“That’s my ride!” she exclaimed happily and, grabbing her purse, left the room.

“That’s- that’s delicious, Beth!” said Rick, washing down the waffles with his coffee.

“I’m glad you liked it, dad!” she said happily and, looking at her watch, frowned.

“Well, I gotta go. See you, dad! Morty, have a good day at school.”

Jerry coughed one more time, and Beth leaned to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Bye, Jerry.”

They were left alone, all three of them.

“Sooo,” started Jerry, putting the newspaper away, “what are you up to today, Rick?”

With a thud, Rick put his cup on the table.

“I don’t have time for a casual chit-chat, J-urgh-erry.”

That said, Rick stood up and almost walked out of the room, stopping at the doorframe.

“Well?” he said with irritation.

Morty froze with a lifted fork and met his grandfather’s eyes.

“Are you waiting for a special invitation, Mo-houurr-ty?” he asked acidly.

“What?” asked both Morty and Jerry in unison.

“We are going on a quick adventure. Grandpa needs some schmördls for his new invention”.

“Shmurdls?” echoed Morty. “That doesn’t even sound like a real word. More l-like something you are mocking-”

Morty could see the impatience and irritation of his grandfather grow bigger.

“Well, if I wanted your exp-ur-t opinion on naming things, I would’ve asked. Now get your ass up. It’s in and out, twenty minutes’ adventure.”

His father said nothing, nor did he try to stop Rick. And Morty obeyed, leaving his unfinished meal and hopes to attend his school that day.

***

Schmördls turned out to be some kind of fruit, too tender and juicy to pick with a machine.

“They must be hand-picked, M-morty,” explained his grandfather. “But be sure to keep them intact!”

“Ouch!” Morty yanked his hand away as the neon pink liquid spilled on his skin.

It had been some time since he noticed that schmördls’ juice burnt and irritated flesh, but his grandfather promised him that it was nothing life-threatening. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time that Rick had lied to him…

“Why won’t you help me, Rick?” asked Morty, feeling already bone-tired.

These fruits were tricky to collect. They were growing on thorn-spiked low bushes that were hiding in the rock crevices. His hands, red and itching, were already covered with oozing wounds.

“They are too t-tender, Morty,” said Rick, leaning his back on the rock. “Their skin -ugh- breaks too easily.”

He gave his grandson a significant look.

“And your tiny fingers are just p-ur-fect for that shit.”

With a sigh, Morty went on.

“Shit, Morty,” said Rick after a long silence, clearly bored, “if you want to make it to school, you’d better hurry up.”

Fuck you, Rick!

He didn’t get to school that day.

Instead, he was sitting in his grandfather’s garage, dangling his legs and looking around. His hands were smeared with a cooling ointment. Rick told him to sit still for half an hour, letting the medicine work, and Morty did just that. Meanwhile, Rick put some of the fruit into a kind of hi-tec juice extractor. The machine’s lights flickered, and Rick leaned back in his chair.

“Well, Morty, you did a lousy job of getting to school, huh? You sh-shouldn’t have been fussing with schmördls for such a long time.”

“F-fuck that, Rick!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “L-look what happened to my- my hands!”

Rick gave him a cold, indifferent glance and shrugged.

“There’s nothing irr-ur-parably wrong with them.”

He fished his flask out of his pocket and took a hit out of it.

“Just let- let the balm set in.”

It was time to act. No. It was the time. Now or never. His grandfather must be feeling a pang of conscience, even if a slight one. That should be enough. Morty must act. He sat back and looked at his grandfather.

“Hey, Rick,” he started, his voice shaking slightly, “I’ve helped you a- a lot t-today, right?”

Rick’s eyes narrowed; he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Your help was mediocre at best, but we have what we’ve got.”

Fidgeting, Morty rubbed his hand nervously and winced as his pink, inflamed skin was still tender.

“I j-just want to ask you for a- for a f-favor.”

Morty didn’t like that skeptical look on his grandfather’s face.

“I want to go on a solo adventure!” yelled Morty, his chest heaving.

Good. He did it. 

“You’ve got to choose every tenth adventure, Morty,” said Rick sarcastically. “Don’t you think that’s a decent bargain?”

Morty jumped to his feet and threw his hand out, pointing at Rick’s chest.

“I’m s-s-s-skipping s-school because of you! I get in-injured because of you! And the only t-t-time I ask you for a f-favor, you’re t-telling me to fuck off!”

Rick took an aggressive step toward Morty.

“It’s not your place to demand anything, you little piece of shit!” spat Rick, glaring at his grandson. “I’ve given meaning to your pathetic existence! If it weren’t for me, you would be still living a hamster cycle you call life! Wake up, go to school, and jerk off into another day of a never-ending sequence of meaningless events!”

It hurt. Morty blinked away angry tears that were welling in his eyes. He thought they were Rick and Morty. Companions in adventures. Just Rick and him. Forever and forever hundred years. The best friends. And it turned out that Rick saw him as a sidekick, a supplement, a tool.

“Fuck you, Rick!” exclaimed Morty and stormed out of the garage.

***

He never went downstairs to watch TV together with the family even though his mother had knocked at his door and peered at his room, tentatively asking Morty if he was fine. 

Fine he was not. He had been sitting at his desk, staring at his textbook. It had been already two hours since he didn’t turn the page. At first, he was fuming, angry at his grandfather, who didn’t give a shit about him. Then Morty started sulking because, damn, it hurt! Of course, he knew that Rick was the biggest douchebag in the whole world. Fuck, in the whole multiverse! But Morty had been always hoping that Rick cared, even for a bit.

Morty gave a heavy sigh and rested his tired head on his crossed arms.

“Fuck you, Rick!” he said bitterly, his voice muffled.

Without realizing it, Morty dozed off.

***

“Hey, Morty, w-wake up, you dipshit!”

He woke up with a start and looked at his grandfather, looming over him.

“We-we -urrrrp- going to Shoney’s. Jerry, your dumbass dad, burned dinner.”

“I’m not hungry!” said Morty, his voice breaking.

For a long moment, Rick stood there, watching him closely.

“So, you’ve decided to play the victim here, huh?”

Rick’s cold attitude put a heavy weight on his chest, and Morty gave a ragged breath.

“I just- just don’t want to go, Rick!” he retorted, his voice strained with hysterics.

“G-great logic there, Morty!” snapped Rick. “Forgive me for not indulging the whims of an immature, unstable teenager!”

His posture became more aggressive, and Morty pushed himself against the back of the chair, desperately trying to look smaller. It would have made no sense. Rick had no pity for small, pathetic things.

“Or maybe I should’ve let you go,” he said, and Morty hated those spiteful intonations in his grandfather’s voice. “I could’ve been taking bets on how long you would last on your own. And the safest guess would be a second.”

Morty gasped and jerked as if being hit.

“D-do you get it, Morty?” Rick’s eyes had that dangerous flame of frenzy in them. “The moment you step into the portal by yourself, you are dead.”

And he spun on his heels, and stormed out of the room, leaving Morty with an all too familiar sense of a hole inside his chest, burning and aching.

***

Only after he heard the car drive away, did Morty let himself go downstairs to grab a sandwich. Ham and cheese, a glass of soda. Still, it didn’t seem to help improve his mood. So Morty drank another glass. Then another. He glanced at his mother’s wine bottle, but it was too risky. Not that he wanted to drink wine, after all. 

Glancing towards the garage, Morty thought of Rick, and the flame of anger rose anew in his chest. Fuming, Morty went to the garage, not really sure what he wanted to find there. Was he lying to himself? Could it be that he was secretly hoping to find-

Rick’s portal gun.

It was lying there, on the counter as if Rick had left it on purpose. Morty looked around nervously, fearing it might be a trap. But Rick didn’t appear so Morty took a tentative step toward the device and took it cautiously in his hands.

And suddenly he had made up his mind. He can prove it to Rick! Morty would be fine on his own. A quick solo adventure. Five minutes tops. Just to show Rick who was right.

So, he chose the location, just the way Rick used to do it, only Morty had no idea where he was going. Not that it was important. In and out. Really quickly.

A glowing green portal emerged, and Morty felt a thrill of encountering something new overflow his senses. He braced himself and took a step forward.

As if the time had slowed down, he saw another Morty, wide-eyed and astonished. Another version of him took him by the hand and pulled him forward. In the meantime, his doppelganger jumped into the closing portal. And Morty, shocked and scared, driven by the momentum, fell down right onto his portal gun. Rick’s portal gun!

“Oh geez!” exclaimed Morty, sitting up, and took the device in his hands.

It was broken.

Chapter Text

Morty looked around, his heart leaping out of his chest. He was in his grandfather’s garage, that’s for sure. Stumbling, Morty clutched the desk, desperately trying not to lose his balance. He felt lightheaded and scared. Still, curiosity taking the best of him, Morty decided to explore the place.

It was a generic Smiths’ house, so he could easily find his way. One thing that bugged him, however, was how empty it was. Where might his family be? Were they also dead in that dimension? Morty shuddered and tentatively opened the fridge. The variety of fresh fruit and vegetables allayed his fears. Nervously looking around, he took an apple and peered huntedly into the darkness of the living room.

Could… Could Rick be somewhere around?

He didn’t want to know the answer to his question. Instead, Morty ran upstairs and leaped into his room, closing the door shut. Only in the doubtful security of his own room, he could take a breath and eat that apple. It was a big red one. So glossy, so appetizing. With a crunch, Morty took a bite, choking on the sweet and tangy juice.

It was a familiar place. Morty used to live in the same room. Still, it wasn’t the room that made Morty feel anxious but the things that were outside. In desperate need of comfort, he wrapped a blanket around his shaking body and closed his eyes. Morty wasn’t proud of what he had done. He had fucked up the other Morty, hadn’t he? Morty could bet that his life in that nice house with a stuffed fridge was way better than his own. Still, there was a possibility that he was mistaken. Could that version of Rick be worse? Was it even possible to be worse than that man?

Morty never noticed when he fell asleep. Only a warm and tender touch on his shoulder made him woke up with a start.

“Ahh!” he cried, slapping the hand away.

“Morty,” a too familiar voice made his heart ache, “honey, are you alright?”

He froze, not trusting his ears.

“Mom!”

Morty threw himself in his mother’s arms and started crying.

“Moooom!” he wept.

“Oh, honey…” Beth gave him a tight hug. “Is it because of your grandfather?”

She might have noticed him tense because Beth went on.

“You don’t have to hold a grudge against him. Your grandfather was also upset about whatever happened.”

Morty wiped his nose and gave her a slight nod.

“You know how he is,” she comforted him, stroking his back. “He might have said something in the heat of the moment and now regrets it, but he is being too stubborn to admit it.”

Morty said nothing. His mother was talking about a complete stranger, not the Rick he knew. 

“Just promise me to let him make up to you, okay?”

Once again, he nodded, and Beth smiled at him, wiping his tears with her fingers.

“Good night, Morty,” she said and gave him a peck on his forehead.

“Good night, mom.”

After Beth had left, Morty kept feeling warm and fuzzy. He was so tired and sleepy but, nevertheless, tried his best to stay awake. He wanted to prolong that feeling of comfort and happiness, never letting it dissolve into the following day. Moreover, Morty was afraid of confronting that version of Rick, plain and simple. Even if he weren’t the monster his Rick was, he would know it. The very moment he saw Morty, he would be able to tell that he was a fraud. And he would send him back.

His heart being in the vice grip of sadness; he cried himself to sleep.

***

“Morty! Summer! Don’t test my patience!”

Morty didn’t hurry to open his eyes as he wanted that beautiful dream to last forever. The dream where he once again had his family. Morty couldn’t even tell for how long he slept without seeing any dreams. He prohibited himself either to think or fantasize about the life he once had.

And now there he was. Too alert to fake sleeping, he opened his eyes and freshened up. It was time to meet his family.

As he got downstairs, all his family members were already sitting at the table, having their breakfast.

“Dad…” Morty gasped, looking at Jerry who was reading a newspaper. “Summer…”

They couldn’t hear him for so weak his voice was, but Rick, nevertheless, turned to look at him. And suddenly Morty was paralyzed by his heavy glare.

Oh man, somebody, save me…

And then Rick shifted a chair, gesturing for Morty to sit down.

“You alright?” he asked.

Morty nodded and looked at the plate his mother put in front of him. The pancakes smelt so good that they made his mouth water. Even if for a brief moment, all fears were forgotten, and Morty started eating.

“Oh jeez,” he moaned. “Mom, the pancakes are great!”

He never saw the weird looks Rick and Summer gave him. Even Jerry folded the newspaper and glanced at his son.

“Are you feeling right, Morty?”

When the boy stiffened, Jerry hurried up to explain himself.

“Uhm… Your mother told me that you’ve caught the bug the other day. That’s why you didn’t go out with us, right?”

Morty said nothing, poking at his pancake.

“R-right…” said Rick instead. “Will you join me in the garage after the br-urp-eakfast, M-morty?”

He panicked, not knowing what to do, or what to say when Beth saved him.

“He needs to go to school, dad,” she said in a kind, but firm voice.

“What have I told about school?” asked Rick, pointing at Beth with his fork.

“It’s a waste of time,” answered Summer, sounding bored.

“And what I said,” Beth’s voice got deeper, “was that you can take Morty on your adventures as long as it doesn’t interfere with his studying!”

Rick threw his arms in a mock defeat.

“Alright, your house, your r-urp- rules. I’ll be in the garage.”

And he stood up and went out of the dining room, leaving Morty with his heart pounding.

***

Morty was happy to be back to school. He was smiling at Jessica; he was happy to see his mates and teachers. 

“Hey, Morty!” he heard Jessica’s sweet voice right next to him.

Closing his locker with a thud, he smiled even bigger.

“Hi, Jessica!” 

His heart was overflown with warmness. He hadn’t seen Jessica for ages! Her hair was as red as ember. Just the way he remembered it. Its fire had been his safe place for a long time. Whenever he closed his eyes, he would see its stunning beauty, would recall that sweet, gentle smell of her floral perfume.

“Are you coming in, Morty?” the voice of his teacher yanked Morty out of his daydreaming.

“See you later, Jessica,” he said.

A simple goodbye. Still, the words of farewell rolled so bitterly off his tongue as Morty didn’t believe himself that they would meet again.

Back in his class, it was so familiar and, at the same time, so foreign. 

Morty was glad that he could enjoy a piece of his usual life, even if for a bit. It was so thrilling to be once again a part of normal life that Morty did, in fact, pay attention. 

Mr. Goldenfold was as pleased with Mort as he was surprised. 

Morty got two A’s that day, and, damn, he was excited! He could be having a life here! A real, average life. He could have, but he knew he wouldn’t.

On his way back home, his mood was spoiling. The Unavoidable was looming over him – Rick was waiting for him in the garage. Of course, Morty could try to keep away from him, but there was no way of hiding from Rick. Any version of him. He would hunt him down, and even if Morty wasn’t sure of what Rick might do to him – hand him back to that Rick or kill him on spot, Morty knew nothing good was there for him.

He walked into the garage as a prisoner sentenced to execution. Dead man walking. His eyes were downcast as he approached Rick who was repairing some kind of mechanism.

“Ah, Morty,” said his grandfather, taking off his goggles to look at the boy. “Let me ask you a question real quick.”

Morty raised his shoulders as if bracing for a blow but still didn’t dare to look at Rick.

“Did you, by any chance, take my -urrrp- portal gun?”

“No…” responded Morty, his voice hollow.

Not that it was a lie. It wasn’t him who took it.

Rick said nothing, and then Morty dared to look up at him. His grandfather was studying him with his cold, calculating eyes. His arms crossed on his chest; Rick seemed to take his time.

“And if let’s say, we watch yesterday’s security footage, huh?”

Morty tensed and hugged himself. He knew Rick had a camera in his garage, and he could guess what they might see on the recording. 

“Okay,” said Rick and turned the screen so that Morty could also see it, “let’s- let's watch then.”

Panicking, Morty took a step back.

“I- you don’t need me here, Rick,” he said, “I’ll be in my- in my room. I need to- I have an essay to write.”

Rick was staring at him.

“The essay can wait,” he said and caught him by the wrist. “Keep your grandpa company, will you?”

That was such a familiar gesture. Cold. Intimidating. Morty felt blood in his veins freeze, and he got still, embracing his fate.

Rick started the video, then rewound it until there was Morty on the screen. Morty taking the portal gun. Morty opening a portal and stepping in to step out in the next moment without Rick’s gun.

The grip on his wrist tightened, and Morty winced in pain.

“Who are you?” Rick’s voice was low and dangerous. “Name your dimension, you motherfucker!”

Gasping, Morty tugged his arm to get himself free but failed. Rick was so close, so dangerously close, that Morty could feel his hot, alcohol breath on his face. 

“What’s your aim?!” shouted Rick.

“Grandpa…” breathed Morty out, “let me go, you’re hurting m-me.”

“Cut the crap, you piece of shit! Who sent you? Who sent you?!”

Morty jerked and using all his strength, managed to yank his arm out of Rick’s grip.

He saw Rick ready to launch at him and turned sharply toward the door.

“Mom!” he cried, using Beth as his last hope. “Moooom!”

Rick stood still, and Morty ran out of the garage.

Chapter Text

Morty was on his hands and knees. He was shaking violently, looking at the broken portal gun.

“No…” he whispered frantically, “no-no-no-no!”

The green, toxic fluid was leaking onto the floor, and Morty shifted so that he would get sitted with his back leaning against the cold wall. Only then he looked around, studying his surroundings.

He wasn’t in the garage, nor was he in his room. That place slightly resembled Rick’s basement, but where his grandfather’s fortress of solitude was hi-tech and advanced, that place was gloomy and sinister. 

“Oh man…” sighed Morty and got to his feet, leaning onto the wall for support.

That Morty tricked him! Why then? What was the purpose? He didn’t know where Morty was coming from. It could be a Buttworld or a Blender Dimension. His alter-ego wouldn’t know where the portal could get him. Still, the small room resembled a cell Rick used to keep some interdimensional most-wanted criminals. It hinted at the possibility that it was a place worse than uncertain fate. 

There was nothing else for him to do. Morty had to find that version of Rick and explain to him what had happened. He would definitely want to have his Morty back, right? Right?..

Bracing himself for an unpleasant talk, he approached the door and put his hand on the doorknob.

It was locked.

A very, very bad feeling overcame Morty. He was in the cell, as far as he could see, and now he knew that not only he was there, but he was also locked. The situation went snowballing out of control. Panicking, Morty was pulling the door handle and pounding on the door.

“Let me out!” he screamed.

For better or for worse, no one came.

Morty waited at the door. Then he started pacing around the room, studying windowless walls. As he got tired, he lowered himself onto the narrow bed that was the only piece of furniture the cell had. 

He still couldn’t believe he got himself in that kind of situation. Where was he? Did someone kidnap Morty in that dimension to get back at Rick?

Lying down, Morty closed his eyes and prayed for his grandfather to find him.

“I’ll always listen to Rick,” he promised as he was begging the universe for salvation. “I’ll pay attention at school and help around the house. I’ll tell Jessica that I like her…”

As he was counting down all the things he would do if he got another chance, Morty fell asleep without realizing it.

***

Morty was shaken roughly into wakefulness.

“Where did you get the gun, you piece of shit?”

Overcome with terror, he was staring at the exact copy of his grandfather.

“Rick…” he gasped.

“Did you steal it from me, t-ur-rd?”

Gripping his grandfather’s arms, Morty tried to free himself from his hold when he suddenly got slapped across the face.

“What do you think you’re doing, dipshit?!” 

Rick shook him hard.

“Do you want me to cut your fucking hands off?”

Morty knew he could. Every Rick knew about the infinite Morties. He was nothing special. One of the endless amounts. Morty could only hope that the original Morty of that Rick was a bit more special than others. If not, he was screwed.

“Put your fucking hands down!”

Letting go of Rick’s arms, Morty got pushed hard on the bed. He gasped and for a moment closed his eyes. When he opened them once again, Rick was standing beside his bed, studying the portal gun that he had in his hands.

“Who- whose gun is it? It’s not registered in the Citadel.” 

Morty pulled his legs to his chest and hugged his knees.

“It’s- it’s mine.”

The next moment there was Rick’s heavy glare on him.

“What did you say, dipshit?” he asked and took a step toward Morty. “Your gun? Who do you think you are?”

His grandfather leaned over Morty and grabbed his hair, pulling Morty’s head back. With his neck exposed, the boy felt too vulnerable, his face contorted with fear and pain.

“I mean it’s my- my grandpa’s. It’s Rick C-137.” 

Rick’s grip eased a bit. He studied his grandson’s face for a while and then chuckled.

“Sure thing, kid,” he mocked.

His voice stuttered, and Morty hurried to explain himself.

“I’ve taken my- my grandpa’s gun to go on a s-solo adventure and opened a portal to this place. There was- another Morty. We- we swapped places, so he m-must be with R- my grandpa.”

His voice turned pleading.

“Please, Rick, let’s go to my dimension and get your Morty back.”

Suddenly, Rick let his hair go and, taking a step back, crossed his arms.

“I don’t -urrrp- care,” he said. “A M-morty is a Morty. You’ve got your dumbass brain waves; I’ve got myself a shield. That’s -urrrp- enough for me.”

And he went out of the room, locking the door.

Why?

Morty brought his trembling hands to his face and rubbed it with force.

Would Rick find him?

Would Rick even search for him?

With a painful heaviness on his chest, Morty lay down and soon fell asleep.

***

“W-ugh- wake up, turd!”

Opening his eyes, Morty moved from one nightmare into the other. The tall figure was looming over him, emanating threat and danger. It was in Morty to flee, to escape, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t Rick’s equal.

“I need -urrrp- you to get the Isotope-322. S-so, get a grab, and let’s head out.”

Following Rick’s glare, Morty saw a sandwich and a can of soda on a small crate at the foot of the bed. Fortunately, Rick didn’t stay to watch him eat. He said Morty had five minutes to get ready and went out of the cell, closing the door.

Very slowly, as though his limbs were twice as heavy as in his dimension, Morty shifted closer to the food and took hold of a plain ham and cheese sandwich. He had no worries that Rick might add something to his food or poison him because Morty knew – Rick didn’t have to go to any lengths to make Morty do something. Morty was his sidekick. His pawn. His tool. 

With a heavy sigh, Morty took a bite and started chewing, never stopping to actually enjoy the flavor. The soda was alright. It was sweet and bubbly and refreshing. 

“Are you r-ready, dipshit?” Rick’s voice yanked him from his thoughts.

Morty nodded and put the empty can aside.

“Okay, Rick,” he said, trying to get on Rick’s good side. “As you say, Rick.”

The man laughed, looking at him, but there was nothing good and kind in his cold laughter. He sounded so arrogant and self-righteous that it made Morty’s blood run cold.

“Haha, I like you even better than the pr-urrrp-evious one. Not that you are of any difference to me.”

Rick opened a portal and grabbed Morty’s wrist to step into the neon green abyss.

***

“Geez!” cried Morty, running across the scorched desert for a rock to hide. “It’s like a Mad Max! Oh, fucking shit, it’s a Mad Max all over again! Fuck!”

He hid in the small cave, clutching that isotope that Rick wanted so much. Morty could remember going on the same adventure with his Rick and his Summer. When their parents were on a break. Or divorce. Or whatever. Morty could only wonder if they would hang around in the post-apocalyptic setting.

“Ah, there -urgh- there you are, fuckface!”

Morty shuddered and looked at his grandfather who was stretching his hand out.

“What are you -urrrrp- waiting for? A fairy godmother to bestow upon you a- a ball gown and a pair of glass slippers?”

With those words, Rick yanked the stone away from Morty and, grabbing him by the wrist, pulled the boy toward a newly opened portal.

They stepped into the room where Morty was, what it seemed, a prisoner. He sat on the bed and looked at his grandfather who hid the isotope in one of his inner pockets.

“You did good, Morty,” he praised, and he sounded so content and pleased that Morty got up the courage to get back to their previous conversation.

“Uhh, Rick…”

His grandfather approached him and sat down beside him.

“Please, Rick, let’s get to my dimension and return your Morty. And I’ll stay where I belong.”

He dared to look at Rick who was watching him closely.

“And where do you belong, M-ur-orty?” he asked, his voice low. 

“Uhh…”

Morty blushed, feeling his grandfather’s hand laid on his shoulder to give it a rub. He was feeling embarrassed. His own grandfather wasn’t an affectionate type, and being touched by an unfamiliar Rick felt even weirder.

“R-rick?” he stuttered, and then Rick moved even closer to cover his lips with his own.

The one and only thought was throbbing in his head.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

No way it could be happening to him.

Rick’s grip shifted to the back of Morty’s neck, getting tighter. The old man forced his tongue in Morty’s mouth and swirled it, feeling him from inside. The burning fear surged up in Morty’s chest, and he threw his arms out to push Rick back.

“No, Rick, no!” he gasped, his face contorted with pain.

“Shhh, Morty,” cooed Rick, his voice mocking, “it’s alr-urg-ight, baby-boy. Grandpa’s gonna take care of you.”

He froze in his grandfather’s arms. While he was caressing him, covering his neck with pecks, Morty stood still, terrified even to breathe.

“Is it your- your first time, sweetie?”

Morty was shivering. It was all his grandfather, his Rick, on his mind. 

Please, save me, please, please, please…

His grandfather dropped him on the bed, covering his shaking body with his firm one. His cool hand rolled Morty’s shirt up and caressed Morty’s flat chest.

“Please…”

Rick pinched his nipple to hardness and rolled it between his thumb and index finger. When Morty gasped, his mouth was instantly covered with Rick’s dry chapped lips.

“You’re so sensitive, Morty,” he breathed out and kissed the sweet spot beneath his ear.

“What- what are you doing, R-rick?”

He heard the old man chuckle.

“You’re one hundred percent virgin, Morty,” Rick mocked, “if you haven’t still figured it out.”

Hot tears welled in his eyes, and Morty shivered when Rick’s cold hand slithered like a snake under his pants to grab his limp cock. Morty wept and dared to take the last ace up his sleeve.

“Please, grandpa, don’t hurt me…”

He felt Rick freeze. 

And then he smiled, but there was nothing kind in that smile. His eyes shone with lust as he caressed the boy’s chest.

“Say it again,” he ordered, his voice raspy.

Morty was on the verge of tears. 

Could Rick be turned on by his shaking voice?

And then Rick put his hand on his throat and squeezed it.

“Say it!”

Digging his fingers into his grandfather’s forearm, Morty tried to get himself free. There was a vicious fire in Rick’s eyes, and Morty got as scared as he had never been before.

“Grandpa…” he breathed out.

Rick’s expression changed slightly. The grip on Morty’s neck eased, and Rick’s hand slid down his chest, brushing Morty’s hard nipples.

“Yes, baby,” cooed the man, caressing his cock. “Let grandpa take care of you.”

Morty shuddered and closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Morty was sitting on the bed in his room, looking at the closed door. It wasn’t locked. There was no point in locking doors. No lock could keep Rick from entering. For what it’s worth, he could open a portal and appear right in the middle. To say Morty was scared was to say nothing. He was terrified. All night long, he stayed alert, not being able to relax and get a wink. Rick knew he was a fraud, and it was a question of time before his grandfather decided to put an end to it.

Rick never came that night. Nor did he come in the morning, so Morty threw his books into his bag and ran downstairs.

“Morty? Breakfast!” he heard his mother saying.

“I’m being l-late,” he yelled, “I’ll grab something on my way.”

From a corner of his eye, he could see Rick there, having breakfast, watching him.

He would be safe at school. Rick wouldn’t kill him there. At the driveway, however, Morty stopped to give it a thought. Wouldn’t he? Or would he? He imagined he heard the front door open and moved off, running to the school.

***

It had been a few hours since the lessons were over; still, Morty was sitting in the empty classroom, staring blankly at his textbook. He was thinking over that whole mess he got himself into. Of course, Morty was afraid of what Rick might do, but he couldn’t lie to himself – there was no way to escape the smartest man in the universe.

He should confront him. On his own terms. Maybe he could negotiate his way through. So, Morty took a big breath and headed home.

The house was empty, or it seemed empty. His mother was at work; his father might be having another job interview. Summer must be hanging out with her friends, and Rick must be-

Morty opened the door to the garage to see his grandfather leaning back in the chair with a kind of augmented reality glasses on.

“Are you done with hiding under your mom’s skirt?”

Shuddering, Morty, however, stood still.

And then Rick took his glasses off and glanced at his grandson.

“Were- were you looking for him?” asked Morty, still standing at the doorway.

Rick’s eyes narrowed.

“Spit it out!” the old man let irritation seep into his voice.

Morty shrugged and took a few tentative steps toward Rick.

“I have come to offer you a deal.”

He saw his grandfather quirk a brow.

“I’ll tell you everything I know, and you won’t harm me and will help me get back home.”

Rick crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed.

“And what makes you think I need your services?”

The way his grandfather was still sitting and having that conversation with him was uplifting. If he didn’t need his intel, he would be already putting Morty in the crosshairs.

“I can do it myself as I always do,” Rick went on, sounding smug.

Shrugging, Morty took another step toward Rick.

“I know,” he agreed. “But it would cost you time, and you- you don’t like wasting it.”

For a long moment, Rick said nothing, but then his posture eased a bit.

“Shoot,” he said and nodded toward the empty stool beside him.

“Uhm…” Morty took a seat, leaving some distance between himself and his grandfather. “I was in- in my room,” he was stuttering more than usual, recalling what his grandfather had done to him, “when suddenly a- a portal opened, and a Morty, uh, your Morty stepped out-”

“That’s bullshit!” Rick jumped to his feet and pointed at Morty; his stance aggressive.

Shrinking in fear, Morty tried to seem as tiny as possible. Perhaps Rick would take pity on him.

“And you know why it is a bull crap, Moorty?” his grandfather accentuated his name on purpose. “You can’t see through the portal! You would never know what’s on the other side! No one would be that stupid to step into the unknown.”

Morty shuddered. Rick took a big step toward him, looming over his grandson.

“Tell the truth or you’ll regret it!”

Morty curled in on himself even more.

“S-stop it, R-rick!” the boy breathed out. “You are m-making me uncomfortable.”

“Cut it out, dipass!” shouted Rick and grabbed his upper arms. “Tell me the truth!”

And then Morty froze. His eyes wide with terror, he gave Rick a blank stare and muttered,

“Please, grandpa-”

Rick grimaced and tugged the boy.

“Move,” he ordered, pulling him toward the chamber underneath the garage.

“Noo!” cried Morty hysterically, digging in his heels. 

“I’ll extract your memory and watch it if you are reluctant to talk.”

No… No way he was going back down there.

Unable to resist Rick, Morty fell on the floor. Would Rick drag him? Or kick him? Or beat him into submission?

With a look of irritation on his face, Rick turned to give the boy on the floor a glare. 

“Stand. Up.”

Morty refused to obey. 

“I’ve t-told you the truth!” he sobbed. “Please, d-don’t take m-me there…”

He never saw his grandfather roll his eyes. Rick gave him a tug.

“Fine,” he said, “get up.”

It was his grandfather’s voice, the way it sounded – soft and concerned, that made Morty stand up and let himself be eased into his chair.

“So, let’s get it straight,” said Rick, leaning on the desk, “you’ve seen the portal with a Morty stepping out, and then you went into it before it closed. Right?” 

Morty nodded timidly.

“Were you taken hostage?”

The boy nodded once again.

“Do you know who did it?”

“Yeah…” whispered Morty.

“So?” his grandfather was losing his patience.

“Rick…”

***

It was a full-scale interrogation that left Morty completely spent. Rick still looked a bit suspicious, but, nevertheless, didn’t make a move to hurt Morty.

“So, you don’t know the dimension, right?”

Morty shook his head and gave a tired sigh.

“I was- was always kept in the cell- unless he n-needed me for a- an- adventure or whatever.”

Shutting his eyes, Morty rubbed his face. He was so bone-tired.

“Those fucking Mortyless bastards!” Morty suddenly heard right beside him and jerked away from where Rick was supposed to be.

Opening his eyes, Morty could see his grandfather holding out a can of soda for him.

“Th-thanks,” stuttered Morty and took it.

He liked soda. It was sweet and bubbly and gave him comfort. Morty wished there were a weighted blanket over his shoulders so that he could really relax and feel safe. He hadn’t felt safe for ages. Not that he could. Not around Rick.

“What’s y-uur -urrrp- your original dimension?”

“X-336,” he said softly, sipping his coke.

Rick nodded.

“Fine.”

He heard Rick sitting down and starting to type. With a sigh, Morty put the can aside and hugged himself.

“He m-must have replaced me-”

The typing ceased, and Morty went on.

“My- my grandpa… He might have found a replacement in the Citadel.”

Morty sucked air shakily through his mouth.

“Do you want me to find him?”

Shocked, Morty trained his eyes on the straight back of his grandfather.

Did he? Did he want it? The only thing Morty was sure about – he was damn scared. Scared that his grandfather never cared Morty got kidnapped in the Citadel. Scared he had found another Morty. Scared that Rick wouldn’t care, and Morty would land in another cell.

“Let’s first find your Morty, okay?”

His grandfather might have given the slightest nod because Morty wasn’t sure he actually saw it. Still, the typing continued, and it was a relief. 

Morty let himself relax a bit. He leaned on the back of his chair, his legs dangling. Rick was still typing, and Morty decided it was safe to ask. 

“Uh… R-rick…”

The typing paused.

“And what dimension are you from?”

Rick remained silent for a long moment, and Morty was already regretting asking that stupid question.

“C-137,” came a hoarse reply, and the time itself had stopped.

No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no…

No way he got himself under the Rick C-137 rule!

He heard about him in the Citadel. Tales of cold-blooded murder and death. He was the smartest man in the universe. The Rickest Rick. The Rogue. The Death itself. He bore no pity, leaving enemies slain, planets destroyed, universes demolished in his wake. He was the Evil. It was a life far worse than his previous one. To be at the mercy of the fucked-up God!

Without realizing it, Morty jumped to his feet; his chair fell with a sickening noise in the silence of the garage. Rick turned to look at him, and Morty froze in fear.

“P-p-please,” he staggered, “can I- can I go back to- to my r-room?”

He could feel Rick’s cold glare studying him, analyzing him, but then the old man just waved him off.

“You can go,” Rick said generously, “I’ll call you when I need you here.”

Morty managed to give a nod and walk out of the garage. Only when he was out of Rick’s reaching distance, did the boy let himself succumb to panic and run upstairs as if his life depended on it. Closing the door shut, Morty leaned on it heavily, his face perspiring. He was panting. He heard too many tales about Rick C-137 in the Citadel; and even if half of them were true, he was screwed. Fucked. Doomed.

Was there anyone who could save him?

Sliding down the wall, Morty sat on the floor and hid his face in his trembling hands. Why was he so fucked? Morty thought of the people who could save him. His mom. Of course, she loved him, but she cherished Rick! Summer. Of course, she was his sister, but she was also his grandpa’s second favorite, and, well, it must have flattered her endlessly, leaving him with the last option – his dad. Sure, his dad was wary of confronting Rick, but right now, Morty no longer believed there was anyone in the whole world capable of confronting Rick. He just needed a person. A person he could confide to. A human being he could be with. Just another person. His dad.

Weeping, Morty rubbed his eyes and went out of his room. He hoped he could find his father in his study room. Was it even a study room? Since Jerry neither studied nor worked, it was something more akin to a man cave room. Whatever.

Morty was relieved to find his dad there. Alone. He was playing with his coins, humming something cheerful.

“Son?” he said, raising his eyes from the coins, his face lit up with recognition.

“Dad…” said Morty, and even he hated the way his voice sounded hollow ad broken.

“Is it-” Jerry sat up straight, putting his treasure away, “Rick? Has he done something to you?”

It took Morty all his strength to shake his head.

“Did he-” Jerry studied him with his worried eyes, “let you get hurt?”

Morty bit his lip, holding tears back. Even his father didn’t think Rick himself might hurt Morty. So, instead of ruining the world for him, Morty just threw himself at him and hugged him tightly.

“Daaad,” he sobbed. “Dad…”

He felt his father hug him back and give him a reassuring pat. It had been a while since Morty felt that good.

Chapter Text

Morty was lying on his narrow bed, fatigued and tired. After their last adventure, Rick must have gotten sated and forgotten about his existence whatsoever. Morty didn’t get food or water. And whereas he could drink from the tap in a small adjacent restroom, the food… Well, it was a problem. There was no food in there. From his lessons at school, Morty could vaguely remember that a person can last a month or so without food, so he braced himself. There was one advantage to the whole neglect part. He was free of Rick. 

He should think. He had to! But it was too difficult when Morty was so tired and famished. He needed some sugar. A bar of small chocolate. Or even a can of soda. He gulped, swallowing his thick saliva when suddenly the door opened.

“Wake up, dipshit,” said Rick, and Morty shuddered. 

Suddenly, the room was filled with the best scent ever – it smelt so deliciously of fries that it made Morty’s mouth water and his stomach growl with pain. Slowly, he sat up on his bed and looked at his grandfather. Was he going to torment him? 

Rick scoffed and threw a brown bag at him.

“Hurry up and eat.”

Taking hold of the bag, Morty tentatively opened it and saw a burger, a bag of fries, and a cup of soda. His hands shaking, he hastily unfolded the wrapping and dug his teeth into the burger. Oh, it was heaven! The best meal Morty had ever had. He was chewing hastily, the fear that Rick might take away the food taking the best of him. With a burger eaten and his first hunger sated, Morty became more aware of his surroundings. Rick never left the room. He was leaning onto the opposite wall, a flask in his hand. He was watching Morty eat, and it made his stomach churn.

Still, his grandfather never made an attempt to take his food away, and Morty started eating his fries, dipping them into the barbecue sauce. It was sweet and tangy, and Morty loved every bit of it! He took a big cup of soda and took a sip. It was so refreshing and sweet and bubbly on the tongue! Just the way he needed it!

Being almost through, Morty contemplated whether he should thank Rick. Maybe if he did, Rick would feed him next time. So, putting the empty bag away, he looked at Rick, who was taking a hit out of his flask, and said,

“Thanks, grandpa…”

“Y-urrp- you are welcome,” Rick burped and, hiding his flask, went closer to the door.

“Now, I want you to take a shit and wash up y-urgh-our ass. Grandpa needs your help in the Citadel. You have thirty minutes.”

That said, he went out of the room, leaving Morty scared and shaking.

***

Morty was waiting for his grandfather, sitting on his bed. He did as he was told, and not for a minute, he stopped crying. He knew it would be something horrible if Rick wanted him to be clean there. His head was pounding because of long crying, but the pain of waiting for the unknown was even more acute. And then Rick returned, carrying a bag in his hand, and Morty sobbed in fear.

“W-what’s with that look?” said Rick, approaching the bed. “Cut it out, turd! I don’t want to look at your ugly crying face!”

Shivering, Morty rubbed his face with force, wiping off the traces of tears.

“Oh-okay, R-rick,” he stuttered.

His grandfather nodded, his anger abating.

“Fine. Now try and pay attention, ding-dong. I need to get some shit to the Citadel unnoticed. They wouldn’t search you so we are putting it inside your ass.”

“What?!” gasped Morty.

Rick rolled his eyes.

“I’ll n-never believe that you were with the C-137 and have never carried anything inside your butt,” he said scornfully.

Well, he had a point. Morty had done it for his grandfather, but it didn’t go right. And it hurt like hell! With that version of his grandfather, Morty was sure it would hurt even more. He might even die of shock or something.

“Take off your pants,” ordered Rick.

Sobbing, Morty obliged and tugged down his pants.

“You’re dumb as they come,” said Rick, looking at his shivering form. “Take off your underwear, idiot.”

Morty couldn’t stop his tears as he undressed and eased down on the bed, on his hands and knees as Rick had instructed. He was shaking as if constantly electrocuted. He couldn’t see Rick, so it had sharpened his other senses. Morty could hear the bed squeak as Rick sat down beside him. His body warmth burned his bare skin, and Morty jerked.

“Relax, dipshit,” Rick said; irritation clear in his voice. 

He could hear Rick put on latex gloves, and then one hand took hold of his hip, steadying him. And then it was so cold and slick and disgusting! 

“Aahh!” he gasped and hid his face in the pillow, getting down on his elbows.

“Shh,” cooed Rick. “It’s lube, that’s all. I believe you are familiar with it,” Rick’s voice was cold and mocking.  

And then Morty felt pressure against his butthole. Almost immediately he tensed up and got a grunt from Rick’s part that made his muscles clench even more.

“Just- just relax, Morty,” said the old man. “Don’t struggle.”

Morty took a ragged breath when Rick added,

“It won’t hurt, I promise.”

There was a bitter-sour taste in his mouth as if he would throw up. It hurt already! His whole body literally opposed the idea of his grandfather assaulting him. But there was nothing to do with it, was there?

When he managed to relax his muscles a little, Rick started scissoring him, and Morty pressed a hand to his mouth not to gag.

Rick gave him a warning before stuffing his ass.

“Here it goes,” he said, and Morty bit his lip.

If he didn’t think about it, it wasn’t that different from that time Morty had done it himself. One thing was, however, different. Rick used a lot of lube to grease its way. It was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t painful. Still, even the plain thought that it was his grandfather, who did that to him was too unsettling.

A slap on his empty bottom cut off his daydreaming.

“Good to go,” said Rick, stepping aside. “Dress up, and let’s g-urrrp-o.”

It was a challenge to stand up, and Morty clumsily rolled off the bed, feeling an unwelcome pressure. Under Rick’s watchful eye, Morty hurried to get dressed and stepped into the opened portal right after his grandfather.

***

The Creepy Morty sign gave him noir vibes. It was already dark, even though Morty had no idea what time it was. The neon sign gave his skin a pink and blue hue, and Morty was hypnotized by the texture of this color. It was warm and grainy. He wished he could wrap himself with it and close his eyes, never thinking of-

“Look alive,” said Rick and put his hand on Morty’s back, pushing him toward the entrance.

It was hot and loud inside. The club was filled with Mortys. There were also some occasional Ricks, enjoying clumsy striptease dances.

“Heeey,” one Morty approached them, “wanna lap dance? There are discounts for Ricks.”

The old man chuckled and gave Morty a tug.

“Thanks, bud, but I have my- my own lap dancer.”

Morty started shaking, but Rick seemed not to notice it. Or perhaps he didn’t care. He dragged him to a secluded booth where another Rick was sitting.

“Did you br-uurrrp-ing it?”

Rick shoved Morty to sit down and followed suit.

“Yep,” he said. 

Their conversation was interrupted by a Waiter Morty.

“What can I get you, guys?”

“The strongest you -urrrp- have,” said another Rick, and soon they were served three glasses of brown liquid with ice in it.

“Fuck, that’s- that’s watered down,” said his Rick and gave Morty a significant look.

“You can drink, dipass,” said the old man, and Morty couldn’t know whether it was a suggestion or an order.

So, he took a glass with his trembling hands and sniffed it. On the periphery of his vision, the other Rick was pouring liquor from his flask into the glass.

“W-ugh-ter on rocks, fuck,” Rick cursed and glanced at Morty.

The drink was too hard for him – Morty could tell it from its strong smell. But Rick was looking at him, so Morty could do nothing but comply. He took a sip, and the liquor burnt his palate, making him want to spit it out. Morty didn’t dare. He swallowed the drink instead, wincing as the burning liquid went down his throat.

The other Rick laughed. 

“Such a brave little guy,” he mocked. 

“Yeah,” smirked his Rick and patted his thigh.

“Lie down there, Morty,” he instructed, “on your belly, little guy.”

Morty started panicking. What could Rick want? What would he do? Rick’s look got heavier, and Morty quickly took another gulp of his drink to win himself some time. The other Rick's laughter grew even colder, and his Rick gave his thigh another impatient pat. And Morty complied, laying down on Rick’s lap. He could feel his grandfather tug his pants and underwear down.

“Spread y-urrrp-our legs, Morty.”

He did just that, and then there were Rick’s fingers inside, taking hold of the smuggled goods. He tugged it, and Morty skipped a breath. It was painfully slow, and Morty bit his lip because he liked it and hated himself for it. It was a vaguely pleasant feeling, like tingling. Morty felt so funny that he squirmed, and it led to him rubbing himself against Rick’s thigh. With horror, Morty realized he was getting half-hard, and there seemed to be no end to Rick’s torturing him.

“Please, Rick,” he gasped, and the old man chuckled.

“Do not wanna hurt you, baby boy.” 

Finally, it was over. Rick gave him a smack, letting Morty sit up. From a corner of his eye, he could see Ricks exchanging something purple and sparkling for money. Zipping his pants, Morty took hold of the glass. As his hands were shaking, he spilled some liquor on his shirt, but there was still enough to get a few sips. He needed it. He wanted to be somewhere else. He closed his eyes and thought of his safe place. One could have guessed, it would be a deep forest or a sparkling lake or Jessica’s bedroom, but the truth surprised even Morty himself. It was their car. Their space car. Rick was steering the wheel, and Morty was nodding off, his sleepy eyes glued to the endlessness of the space.

And then he felt Rick’s cold hands on him. 

“Come ’ere, buddy,” Rick’s voice was deceivably kind. “Sit on grandpa’s lap.”

And Morty let himself be guided to ride Rick with his back to the other Rick.

“That’s- that’s my lil’ lap dancer,” smirked the old man, and Morty cringed from the heavy smell of liquor and lust.

Rick’s hands caressed his back.

“Dance for me, baby,” he cooed.

Morty bit his lip and held his breath, doing his best not to burst into tears. He put his arms around Rick’s neck for support and moved his hips a bit.

“Yeah…” breathed Rick out, and Morty shuddered when the warmth touched his neck.

He closed his eyes shut and prayed for his grandfather to be searching for him. He was in the Citadel, and he could be traced. If only Rick hadn’t given up on him.

Please…

Chapter Text

It was a usual morning. Still, the mood was different. They were sitting all together at the dining table, having their breakfast. With his father at the head at the table, Morty could see the heavy glares he would throw at Rick, who was eating his scrambled eggs and bacon, seemingly unaware of being the center of Jerry’s attention.

“You’ll be late for school,” sing-songed Beth, notes of irritation recognizable in her voice. “Hurry up!”

“Argh!” 

With annoyance, Summer stood up, her chair almost falling; and stormed out of the room, followed by Beth.

“I don’t like your attitude, Summer!” his mother’s voice was dying out as she apparently confronted Summer somewhere in the hall.

“Uh…” Morty shifted uneasily in his chair, “I m-must be going.”

Without looking at him, Rick wiped his lips and put the plate aside.

“Could you hold on a minute, Rick?” 

Morty felt his heart sink. That couldn’t be happening to him! As if in slow motion, he saw Rick glare at his father and then shift his look to Morty. Their eyes met, and though Rick’s expression was unreadable, Morty leaned back as if getting burnt.

“What do you want, Jerry?” he asked, his eyes shifting to his father. 

Rick crossed his arms, looking at the man impatiently. Jerry cleared his throat, and Morty could see how uncomfortable and uneasy his father was, but that look of determination on his face promised no good.

“You can go, Morty,” he said, “or you’ll miss the bus.”

As if a drowning man clutched at a lifeline, Morty grasped the possibility to flee from Rick. The Rickest Rick of them all. Everything in his expression screamed danger. Still, as soon as his chair gave even a little squeak, Morty heard his grandfather’s cold voice.

“Stay.”

He couldn’t disobey Rick’s order, so he did just that, his head hung low, his eyes on the plate.

Morty heard an awkward ‘ahem’ at his side, and Jerry went on with his plan.

“The other day, Morty seemed a bit… upset.”

His father paused, clearly waiting for a response from Rick, but the old man remained silent.

“It must have been too straining for him to catch up with your… things.”

Stealing a glance at Rick, Morty saw that his grandfather remained unperturbed. The pause grew too long.

“And?” Rick’s voice was even, but, even without any modulations, it sounded like a threat.

Jerry coughed nervously. Morty could bet his father would better back off, but it might be the presence of his son that prevented him from doing so.

“Could you give him a break, Rick?”

And then Rick leaned back in the chair and reached for the glass of orange juice.

“Well, you’re the boss, Jerry,” he said, mockingly drawling on his father’s name, and took a sip of the juice. “I’ll be sure to go easy on him.”

“Good!”

When Morty dared to take his eyes off his plate, he saw his father’s self-satisfied smile and looked at his grandfather. The old man’s eyes narrowed, and Morty gulped nervously. It was bad! He was sure that Rick wouldn’t like being told on.

Deep in his thought, he never noticed his father leave. 

“I’ll need your hand later, you little snitch.”

Morty shuddered and looked at his grandfather, who was sitting across from him.

“Meet me in the garage in an h-urgh-our.”

And then Rick raised to his feet and left the room. Morty was alone. With a gasp, Morty hid his face in his hands and closed his eyes. What could his grandfather mean? What would he do to him? 

Hiding behind a doubtful shield of the door to his room, Morty was driving himself to panic. He was so afraid of Rick! That man, and that man alone, was capable of making Morty beg for the sweet salvation of death. He didn’t want to confront Rick. Neither could Morty disobey his direct order to come and meet him in the garage. What should he do? What could he do?

The idea of his grandfather dragging him downstairs scared him the most, so Morty braced himself and left the room.

***

“What took you -urp- so- so long?” asked Rick as soon as Morty entered the garage. “Were you busy ratting on me again ?”

Morty gave a dry sob and rubbed his eyes. Of course, Rick wouldn’t let it slide. He would punish him, that’s for sure. There was no point in justifying himself. Rick would never believe him. Morty just had to take it. Maybe he would be able to find his way around Rick C-137?

“Do me a solid and pay attention for once,” said Rick with irritation and showed Morty a long deep red crystal.

“We need crimson ones,” he brought crystal closer to Morty’s eyes. “Crimson, Morty. A purplish deep red color. Do you follow?”

His eyes watering, Morty nodded. Crimson. They needed crimson ones.

“Not pink, not violet, not transparent, for God’s sake! Crimson.”

Morty was nodding, trying his best not to burst into tears. Then Rick stepped away and put the crystal down.

“It’s time for a quiz,” he said and crossed his arms, leaning on the desk. “What color crystals do we need?”

Hardly had Morty opened his mouth to give his answer when Rick shook his finger at him.

“Uh-uh,” said Rick. “It’s a quiz, dipshit, not a -urrp- question. Focus!”

Swallowing a sob, Morty nodded once again.

“Let’s start over. ‘What color crystals do we need?’”

Rick paused, looking at Morty, but the boy remained silent, and Rick proceeded.

“A. Pink. B. Violet. C. Crimson. D. Transparent.”

He paused once again, and Morty stuttered,

“C-crimson?”

Rick’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Are you asking me?”

Morty put his palm on the left upper arm and rubbed his skin in a futile attempt to calm himself.

“N-no?..”

Rick rolled his eyes.

“Fine!” he spat and opened a portal. “It’ll do. Go in.” 

Sighing heavily, Morty stepped into the portal, followed by his grandfather. He just had to go through it.

***

Morty was breathing heavily, ducking under the crossfire. He thought they would be excavating those crystals or mining them or digging them out of some alien creatures’ shit. Instead, they were supposed to steal them. He closed his eyes, hiding behind the flipped metal desk, and remained like that until the sound of shooting died out.

“Get out,” ordered Rick.

Of course, he would win. Very carefully, clutching the crystals closer to his chest, Morty stood up and approached his grandfather. Rick’s look turned into a glare.

What?

What could he have done wrong?

Taking an aggressive step forward, Rick slapped the crystals out of Morty’s hands.

“Rick…” gasped Morty, watching sparkling red shards scattering all over the floor.

“Are you colorblind, you dumb little piece of shit?”

Morty was shaking, staring at the red fragments of crystals.

“Is it crimson, dipshit? Answer me!”

“Noooo…” sobbed Morty, failing to see the difference.

“What color is it?”

The sobbing turned into full-scale crying.

“It’s ruby, idiot.”

Desperately trying to stop his tears as Morty was sure they would annoy Rick, he mumbled his apologies.

“S-sorry, Rick,” he pleaded, “I am so- so s-sorry.”

“You’d better be,” spat Rick and went forward. “Because it would be you to enter the maintenance room through the ventilation, get the crystals, and go back.”

Rick could’ve opened the portal. He could’ve done it all by himself. Rick just wanted Morty to suffer; it was certain. Nevertheless, he said nothing and let Rick give him a boost so that he could climb into the opened ventilation shaft. 

It was chilly in the air shaft, but Morty felt hot. His face perspired; he was fighting a fainting fit. What if he got stuck? Would Rick leave him? Morty was sure he would. He wasn’t his original Morty, right? 

The sight of the grid in front of him made Morty focus. He gathered all his strength to beat it out. Jumping down, Morty could immediately spot the glowing deep red crystals. Crimson crystals, corrected Morty himself. 

Pulling them closer to his chest, Morty rushed to the door, happy that the crystals even were in the room. Too bad there were not only crystals. He heard the crack of the laser gun only after his leg had gotten burnt. With a cry of pain, he fell, turning his body in his fall to keep the crystals safe.

There was a gunfight, but Morty couldn’t focus on the sounds. The sharp pain was setting his consciousness ablaze, but one thought kept him awake. Rick ordered him to bring the crystals. 

Silence filled the room. Then he heard light steps which were getting louder. Somebody knelt beside him, and even if Morty hadn’t known who could have been the only person breaking off each and every battle, he could feel the looming presence of Rick.

“Are they- are they c-crimson, R-rick?” he stuttered without opening his eyes.

He felt the crystals pulled out of his grip.

“They are.”

He heard the portal open. So, Rick would leave him after all, wouldn’t he?

“Hang in there,” said Rick.

His leg was a pulsating nerve, screaming in agony. Did he still have a leg? He wanted to check it, but Morty was sure that as soon as he had taken a glimpse of it, the pain would become ten times stronger. But then the portal opened again, and Rick knelt beside him.

“Relax, it will be fine,” Rick said, and his voice sounded convincing enough for Morty to open his eyes and give his leg a look. It was deep red all over the torn skin and muscles. 

Crimson , Morty corrected himself.

He saw Rick open a vial containing a glowing light-bluish liquid and pour it on the wound. For a brief moment, Morty wondered if it was acid and if another round of torture was awaiting him.

But then the pain left him so suddenly that an overwhelming feeling of relief made Morty gasp and close his eyes. It was so good, and cool, and soothing. It even smelt nice of mint and freshness.

“Aah…” gasped Morty, enjoying his moment of peace.

“Are you okay, buddy?”

He felt Rick’s hand on his shoulder, and for once in a long time, Morty didn’t feel disgusted. He nodded as Rick slid his arms underneath his limp body.

“Hold on,” Rick said and scooped Morty up. 

More out of habit, Morty threw his arm around Rick’s neck and pressed his cheek against the hard shoulder. Perhaps, he was too tired to get scared because there was no fear as Rick stepped into the portal.

Chapter Text

Morty thought that after satisfying his lust, Rick would leave him alone. Still, Morty woke up in his narrow bed to the appetizing smell of junk food. Slowly sitting up in his bed, he winced. It wasn’t pain that he felt down there. More of an unpleasant ache that didn’t let Morty pretend it had been all a dream. Nightmare. He hid his face in his trembling hands and rubbed it with force. It had been too long since he was abducted. His grandfather must have used that one free Morty voucher. It was a bitter thought that made Morty sob, but then he slapped himself on the face and reached for the brown bag. He couldn’t let himself lose hope. It was all he had! His hope and his trust in his grandfather were the only things that kept him going. With a determined nod, Morty fished out a cheeseburger and a can of soda. The burger was still warm, and instead of feeling good about it, Morty felt his blood freeze. Rick was there. He was watching Morty sleep. What else was he doing? Swallowing hard, Morty shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking of it. The boy took a bite and leaned onto the cold wall.

Having finished his burger and drink, Morty once again reached for the bag. The wise thing would be to save the food for later, but when had he made the right decisions? He was a prisoner in an unknown place somewhere in the whole multiverse that proved his point. So, Morty took the fries that had already turned soggy and a dipping sauce. The food was his only joy, and Morty did need a hit.

Morty spent the day fearing and awaiting Rick to enter and take him on another torturous adventure. Rick never came. Nor did Morty get the food. He checked the brown bag one more time and shook out a few dried fries. Popping them into his mouth, Morty laid down and put a blanket over his head. It was his mantra – the words he would repeat again and again. 

Please, let Rick save me. I’ll always listen to him. I’ll study better. I will be so good. Please, please…

Morty didn’t know who he was praying to; nevertheless, he did. He fervently prayed to whoever was listening to him for salvation.

Please…

He fell asleep with tears and hope.

***

“Nngh…”

Morty opened his eyes to find himself in the warm darkness. Hot musty breath, reeking of alcohol and danger, was burning his neck. With fear and disgust, did he realize that he was naked, and a scorching hot arm crossed his bare chest. His grandfather was also undressed.

Feeling dry lips on his neck, Morty stiffened, bracing himself for what was to come.

“Ah.”

Morty could guess a smile on those thin lips still kissing his neck.

“So, you’re awake,” his grandfather said. “Good.”

Good?

Morty hid a sob behind a hysterical muffled laugh. There was nothing good in store for him. Only pain and torture.

Rick chuckled.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he mocked and caressed Morty’s chest, pinching his nipples.

Panicking, Morty wondered if he could do anything to stop Rick.

“Rick…” he pleaded. “Please…”

He heard his grandfather groan.

“Yes, baby,” he said huskily, “beg me to touch you.”

To touch him?

That was the last thing Morty wanted.

Take your fucking hands off me! Leave me alone, you sick fuck!

He never dared to say it. Instead, he sobbed and put his hand on his grandfather’s arm, giving it a slight tug to pry it off. And then Rick breathed out and moved closer, letting his hand slip down.

“I like your attitude, baby,” he moaned and licked Morty’s ear. “So good and eager for your grandpa.”

His hot palm covered Morty’s limp cock and rubbed it. Meanwhile, Rick was licking and sucking his earlobe. 

“Open your legs for your grandpa, will you, baby?”

What? 

Morty’s mind raced. What… what could Rick mean? Why should he spread his legs? Still, he had nothing to do but obey. Though Rick’s voice sounded sweet and gentle, Morty knew it was just a façade. If Morty failed to do what Rick wanted, the old man must show his true colors. And death would be his pipe dream. So, Morty obeyed and tentatively bent one leg, opening up. 

That very moment something disgustingly cold and slick covered his inner thighs. He gasped, shuddering, and Rick shifted closer.

“Shhh,” he soothed, “there’s nothing to be afraid of, sweetie. It’s lube.”

Morty felt a surge of panic. 

Oh, no!

So, it was it. It was going to happen. His grandfather would rape him. Not his grandfather, Rick, Morty corrected himself. He shouldn’t forget that it wasn’t his grandfather. It was an ugly distorted version of him that made Morty sick.

Rick’s hand slid down Morty’s thigh in a mock semblance of caress. He gave his thigh a push, prompting him to close his legs. Morty didn’t understand what was happening. He was lying on his side, sickening wetness spreading between his thighs, when he felt Rick’s cock, sliding between his legs.

“Relax, baby,” he breathed out, and Morty shivered either from a strong alcohol smell or disgust. “No need to worry. Let grandpa take care of you.”

Morty wanted to scream, fight the offender, flee as far away as possible. He did want to act, but he couldn’t. In every dimension there was, Morty wasn’t able to outsmart or overpower Rick. 

The disgusting wet sound of cock moving between his thighs made Morty want to cover his ears with his hands. His hand twitched, and as if sensing his intention, Rick went on licking his ear.

“I like your ears, sweetie,” he said softly, his voice lustful. “They’re cute, and…” he bit Morty’s earlobe, chuckling at his gasp, “so sensitive.”

Praying to all the gods, and men, and the universe itself, Morty wished Rick would finish soon and wouldn’t rape him. 

“Beg me.”

All of a sudden, Rick’s voice sounded cold, though still husky.

“Please, Rick…” pleaded Morty.

His grandfather’s hand tightened around his upper arm.

“Wrong,” he spat, but, in a second, his voice turned gentle again. “Well,” Rick rubbed his arm, “I’m forgetting that you are dumb as fuck.”

He bucked his hips and chuckled as Morty gasped.

“Repeat after me, ‘please, grandpa, touch my tiny cocklet.’”

It was too much. Morty started crying, sobbing quietly.

“Say it.”

It was a threat, and Morty knew it.

“P-please, grandpa,” he stuttered, “p-please touch me.”

Rick bit him, making it painful.

“Touch my tiny cocklet,” corrected Rick.

Biting his lip to concentrate on the thing he had to do, Morty said,

“Please, grandpa, touch m-my tiny- tiny cocklet...”

Rick’s breathing picked up, his thrusts more frequent and forceful. His hand covered Morty’s limp cock, and Rick started rubbing it as if Morty had a vagina. 

“Tell me how much you like it.”

Even being an always-horny teenager, Morty hated every second of it. The darkness was hot and humid; Rick’s breath foul, his touches disgusting. Morty felt so dirty, so stomach-churning awful. Still, he knew he needed to recollect himself.

“Yes, grandpa,” he breathed out, “that’s so- so good. You make me f-feel so good… down there.”

The sound of Rick breathing, his disgusting hands all over his body, made Morty nauseated. One minute more, and he would lose it. He would definitely lose it! 

Suddenly, Rick pressed himself into Morty; his grip around the boy tightened, and then a sickening stickiness mixed with the moisture on Morty’s thighs. He sobbed quietly.

Rick had been embracing him for a too long time before finally standing up.

“Do you want something special?” he asked casually, and the rustling of clothes gave Morty a hint that Rick must be getting dressed. 

Pulling his knees to his chest, Morty closed his eyes, praying for Rick to finally leave him alone. The rustling died out, but Morty could still feel the heat radiating from Rick’s body. He was waiting for Morty to reply.

“A cheeseburger would do,” Morty responded, his voice barely audible.

“Fine,” Rick said curtly, and then his palm covered Morty’s hip. 

The boy tensed, awaiting Rick’s actions, but the bed creaked, and soon Morty was left alone.

Finally.

Now he could let himself yield to grief. Hugging himself, he cried out and wept, his whole body shaking with fear and pain. It had been too long already. Rick, his grandfather, had forgotten him. He had left him here to die. Just as his original family was left in the Cronenberged Dimension to face their fate, Morty was abandoned here, at the sick pervert’s mercy. And the worst thing was that there was nobody to blame but Morty.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

The last words his grandfather had told him were ringing in his ears.

“The moment you step into the portal by yourself, you are dead.”

He was dead. Used, hurt, broken.

With no hope.

He was dead because his prospects were inevitable and inescapable.

Morty could hear his grandfather’s voice in his head as he was saying those hurtful words. He sounded so arrogant, so spiteful. As if Morty had been a stranger to him.

The boy sobbed and rubbed his eyes. He used to be so naïve, so dumb, as Rick would put it! He thought that infinite Ricks and Mortys meant they had a special bond to span within time and space. He was so wrong. It only meant that Rick had an endless stock of spare parts for his favorite camouflaging tool.

Morty sniffed and wiped his nose, then tears.

He couldn’t rely on his delusions any longer. It was time to act.

So, he stood up and went into the bathroom to wash away the traces of that awful encounter. There was no washcloth, only a tiny piece of soap, but Morty was determined to put it to good use. He scrubbed his body, each square inch that suffered those disgusting touches and foul breath. 

As he went out of the bathroom, his body was pink from rubbing, his neck adorned with fresh scrapes. The first thing that Morty saw was a brown bag in its usual place, a small plastic crate at the foot of the bed. Relieved not to find Rick in the room, Morty took a sit and fished a cheeseburger and a can of soda out of the bag.

Despite the previous horror, he was hungry. Unwrapping the burger, Morty took a bite and chewed hastily. Then he washed it down with soda and contemplated having the fries, as well. Giving it a thought, however, Morty decided against it. He wiped his hands on his pants and looked at the locked door.

With no one to save him, Morty had to take matters into his own hands.

He was responsible for his fate.

He was the only person he could rely on.

The mission was impossible, but there was nothing left to do. 

Morty had to outsmart Rick.

Chapter Text

Back to his usual life, Morty enjoyed every day, surrounded by his mates and teachers. Lessons didn't bore him; his classmates weren’t faceless strangers. It was life. Simple and wonderful. Plain and vibrating. That day, however, was his first free day, an early start of the weekend, and it was a pleasant change of pace. Still in his bed, Morty stretched his arms out and smiled. The sun was shining brightly; the birds were chirping. It was a pleasant, warm day, and Morty, for once, was feeling content and peaceful. Right! He could be happy in that dimension. If only Rick C-137 somehow disappeared. Overcome by a sudden feeling of guilt, Morty mentally corrected himself – not necessarily die or get killed. Just leave that family and go live in the Citadel. Or on another planet. In another dimension. Just as far from here as possible.

With a grunt, Morty snuggled into the blanket and closed his eyes. Those few days were perfect. He liked it so much to have his family back. Turning to his side, Morty wondered how long the illusion of having a normal life would last.

He jerked at the sound of his door flung open.

“Get your ass up, dipshit.”

Sighing, Morty sat in his bed to look at his grandfather, looming at the door.

“It’s Saturday morning, Rick,” he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. “I’m not going anywhere.”

In two large steps, Rick approached the bed and pulled the blanket off the boy. Morty shivered and curled in on himself.

“When did you get so cocky, asshole?” he breathed out, hunching over a trembling boy, and Morty jerked, disgusted by a tell-tale stench of vodka. “Your job is to do what I say!”

When Morty thought that Rick would give him some time to get ready, the old man yanked him to his feet. Stumbling, Morty hardly managed not to fall. He gasped and saw an open portal.

“Let me get dressed, Rick, geez!”

And then Rick leaned over him, his warm, alcohol-stinking breath on Morty’s face.

“I’ve spotted him. They are in the Citadel.”

It was the end.

***

The Citadel of Ricks was just as Morty remembered. It was hi-tech, impressive, and scary, just the way Rick was.

The streets were overflowing with Ricks and Mortys, and Morty couldn’t but think that every second of the boys might have ended up with a monster. He looked at Rick C-137 and shuddered. Maybe each and every one of Morty was doomed.

“You, wait here,” said Rick, giving him a push.

No! Morty remembered how dangerous and twisted Ricks in the Citadel could be. No, no!

“Can I go with you!” he pleaded, grabbing Rick’s hand.

Apparently, Rick wasn’t in the mood for discussion. He pulled away and gave Morty a pointed look.

“You stay and wait.”

An imperative. An order.

That said, he went away to disappear behind a heavy, armored door. With a sigh, Morty looked around nervously and stepped into the back alley. The fewer people saw him, the better. He had to keep low.

***

He had been waiting, kicking a soda can for quite a long time, when a heavy palm landed on his shoulder. With a start, Morty turned to look at his grandfather.

“Are you lost, little buddy?”

A sudden realization burned him, making Morty wish to flee.

It wasn’t Rick C-137!

Another Rick approached him from behind, his lips curled into the ugliest smile.

“It’s a dangerous place to be all alone, buddy,” the second Rick breathed out.

Morty bit his lip and rubbed his forearm nervously.

“I‘m- I‘m waiting for my Rick.”

Something lit in the depth of the pale blue eyes.

“Right, right, your Rick. I’ve just seen him. He said something popped out and asked us to take you to the safe place.”

Morty gulped, not buying any of the shit the man was giving him. He needed to fight back, to run to save himself.

But then something made him freeze on the spot.

“Let grandpa take care of you.”

“Let grandpa take care of you.”

A dry hand creeping over his private parts.

“Let grandpa take care of you.”

A wet kiss on his mouth. Strange? How come Rick’s lips were always chapped, but the kiss was so disgustingly wet?

“Let grandpa take care of you.”

A disgusting, slimy feeling inside. The assault brutal, even though it didn't actually hurt.

A hand on his shoulder; a foul breath on his face, Morty could do nothing but follow Rick. As he always did.

He let the old man put his arm around his shoulders and guide him towards the unknown. A sticky dread, a prickling at his nape, made his blood run cold. Each step was taking him away from the dream he made himself believe in. From his mom. From his dad. From Summer. From school and Jessica. From a simple yet tempting life.

Please. Please. Just another day. Please.

“Where do you think you are going, fucker?” a low rumbling voice.

Bracing himself for a fate even worse, Morty dared to look at the man. His stern looks, his eyes shining with malice left no place for doubt.

It was the Rouge.

“Hey, man, mind your own business, will ya?”

A high-pitched sci-fi sound of a blaster coming to life overflowed Morty's ears. He shut his eyes tightly and started counting.

One Mississippi

Two Mississippi

Three M-

“Move!”

His skin was still bearing another's Rick warmth when the Rouge put his hand on Morty's trembling shoulder.

“Go.”

And Morty went. At first, guided by Rick, he just followed the old man. Then Morty opened his eyes but never dared to look at the man. He just went along until his eyes fell upon a neon-green substance.

“R-Rick?”

When Morty found it in himself to look up at the man, he saw that his lips were pursed into a tight line, his eyes facing forward.

“We missed him. That fucker…”

And Morty stepped into the portal, saying silent thanks over and over for another day of his normal life.

He knew he was doomed, but it was so nice to wrap that sweet lie around his heart. He was going back home.

***

“A hot lasagna made from scratch!” pitched Jerry, demonstrating a steaming casserole.

“Looking good!” said Beth as she poured herself a glass of Cabernet.

“What’s the occasion?” barked Rick, sounding and looking gloomy. Morty could almost feel a dark purple aura forming around the man.

“Just a family dinner, Rick,” explained Jerry matter-of-factly. «There is no need to be a prick about it.”

Rick scoffed.

“Pass me your plate, Morty,” said Jerry, and as the boy offered his plate, Jerry put a huge piece of lasagna on it.

It was cheesy and hot and all-in-all perfect. His stomach rumbling with hunger, Morty took a fork but waited patiently for his father to fill other plates. Beth gave him a funny look.

“Why aren’t you eating, Morty?”

Overcome with a sudden uneasiness, he stuttered,

“Well, I’m... ah...”

Right across the table, something dangerous stirred.

“Waiting for praying before the meal, Morty?”

The boy gulped and shifted closer to Summer.

“Rick!”

“Dad!”

He guessed that behavior might be out of character for Morty C-137, and Morty hurried to get it right. He looked at his plate, gave the lasagna a try, and couldn't contain his excitement. It was honestly the most perfect lasagna he had ever eaten.

“Yum, dad!” he exclaimed.

“Ew, Morty, chew before speaking. Urgh!”

Jerry looked pleased with himself, Beth was enjoying her wine and lasagna, and Summer texted on her phone, absentmindedly taking a mouthful once and again. The only person radiating hostility was Rick. His bleary eyes bloodshot; he was scrutinizing Morty as if he were the reason, they had missed his captor.

He shifted even closer to Summer and refused to look at Rick. He wouldn’t be spoiling his last dinner with his family. No way.

***

After dinner, Morty was relieved to find Rick returning to his garage. It was a perfect chance to take a step forward and enjoy his peaceful life a bit more. With that thought in his head, he joined Summer in the living room. It was a nice change of pace after that awful experience in the Citadel. A peaceful and relaxing time with his family. A nice game of pretend.

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Summer was flipping through the channels until she must have found something suiting her taste. Something strange. Something off.

“Why-” stuttered Morty, alarmed. “Why- why does he have ants in his eyes?”

Summer gave him an irritated glance.

“There are- ants,” Morty gulped heavily, “in his eyes.”

He couldn’t believe it was really happening. Was it CGI or what?

That time, Summer gave him a full-scale puzzled look.

“It’s the interdimensional cable, Morty,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing.

Or was it?

Perhaps his question was so off that she started to figure it out. Her look turned heavier, more suspicious, the silence between them pregnant.

“What you doing? Watching some TV?”

Summer huffed an irritated sigh.

“Oh God, dad!”

“We’re watching the interdimensional cable,” hurried to answer Morty, scooting over for his dad to sit down. “Good old interdimensional cable, ha-ha,” he laughed nervously, feeling an uneasy itch right at his neckline.

Rolling her eyes, Summer returned to flipping through the channels.

There was a content smile on his dad’s lips as he drawled,

“Leave that one, Summer.”

In an amicable silence, they watched a B movie from another dimension. A buff protagonist was defeating one villain after another with the grace of a ballet dancer. It seemed so possible, so easy. Morty wished he could be as confident as that guy. Then he would solve all his problems and stay with his family. Dad. Summer. They were sitting so close that Morty could feel their heat seeping into his body. Wrapped in that warmth, lulled by a low murmur of the TV, Morty never noticed to have fallen asleep.

Awakening from his slumber was more like surfacing from the ocean depth. He jerked awake, gasped for a breath, and rubbed his eyes, trying to get his bearings. His left side was cold - his dad might have left, but his right side was still warmed up by Summer’s heat. He turned to look at her and froze.

Bathed in a bluish light, Rick was sitting right beside him. His stern expression, magnified by the cold TV light, made Morty’s hair stand on end. His first urge to flee was stopped by Rick’s low grating voice.

“I want you to know,” he said as he turned to face Morty, and his hot vodka breath made Morty’s blood run cold. “I have found that Rick.”

His captor. His torturer. His fate decider.

Overcome with dread, Morty braced himself for the inevitable end of his peaceful life when Rick went on,

“Rick X-336. He has gotten himself a new Morty.”

Not only his peaceful life but his whole existence was shattered to pieces.