Horsie hehe

You’re exhausted. The bed had felt far too exposed last night, so you dragged all of the blankets into the small closet instead. Unfortunately, the hard closet floor wasn’t exactly conducive to restful sleep. If anything, you feel worse than you did before sleeping - your mind dull and clouded with fear. Maybe that’s why you don’t notice Frank enter the room.

Frank moves slowly, setting two things down in front of you: a plate of food and a syringe. After a moment he speaks, “something wrong with the bed, doll?”

You answer his question with one of your own, “what’s up with the needle? You gonna drug me?”

“I don’t want to. It would be better for both of us if you just ate.”

You retreat further into the closet, “not hungry.”

Frank follows as you try to hide, keeping the distance between the two of you constant, “it’s been two days since you’ve eaten anything. You need to eat.”

“No.”

“No isn’t an option,” Frank sighs, “listen, darlin’, I’m givin’ you two choices. Either you start to eat willingly, or I’ll force you. There’s no way I’m lettin’ you starve yourself to death.”

God, even when Frank is threatening you, he’s so goddamn calm. Ever since you woke up here, he’s been talking to you like you’re the one who’s being unreasonable. It’s infuriating. No matter how much you scream and cry and fight against him, he just keeps talking to you like you’re a child.

“I’m not leavin’ without an answer, doll.”

Oh, that’s it. You’re tired and scared and you just Frank to do something - anything - other than his whole calm and controlled act. You reach for the one thing you haven’t tried yet, “I’m not gonna answer you, psycho.”

Frank stills, “what did you just call me?”

“I called you a fucking psychopath, Frank! You’re insane and I’m not going to play fucking house with you!”

That gets a reaction. Frank closes the distance between you in a moment, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him, “don’t you fucking say that! Not you!”

You jerk back, instinctively trying to shield yourself, “I-I’m sorry! I’ll eat!”

“Shit,” Frank lets go almost instantly, stepping away from you like he was burned , “I shouldn’t have done that, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

You sniffle, holding back tears, “wh-why are you doing this to me? Why…why can’t you just let me go?”

Frank sighs, “I’m sorry that I keep you in here. I know this doesn’t make any sense to you , but I promise this was necessary. You’re too pure and innocent. I’m scared this world will break you, like it…like it broke everyone else I cared about. I’m only protecting you…”

"What do you mean?"

As calm as he sounded, you knew he was seething deep down, as if you had betrayed him. You appreciated all his kind gestures. The gifts, the sweet good mornings, the little surprises. The deal-breaker though? It came when you found him stalking you more and more, your tolerance wearing thin.

"Huh? We're not breaking up."

It didn't take long for him to burst out into a fit of laughter like you had just told him the funniest joke. His large hand that once held your smaller ones with gentle warmth now seemed so cold as he slicked his bangs back, palm covering his eyes for a moment like he needed to process your words.

"I'm being serious," you tried standing your ground. You really wanted to be mature with this but your tone faltered just a bit, making your words come out like you were also doubting this yourself.

Immediately, he paused. That silence and his silhouette now stilled was enough to get your heart racing some more. Not out of love this time. Out of fear from knowing—or rather not knowing what he'll do next.

You didn't want to take your chances, speed walking towards the door of his apartment only to be yanked back harshly by your hoodie. What came after felt like some surreal dream. Struggles and arguments growing louder and louder until—

You ran off. Barely managing to do so in fact. Your only focus then was to get away from that psycho, shoes getting damp as you rushed across the growing puddles from the drizzle of rain. You mentally thanked the universe for the weather, safe enough for you to run off without getting caught in some storm or ending up sick. All you knew was that your ex just stood there emotionless in the rain, getting damp as he watched you leave.

That was it. At least, you thought so. You hoped so.

The last thing you expected though was for him to continue his obsessive stalking. In fact, it only seemed to grow worse after you broke up with him. You swore you caught him at the corner of your eyes but whenever you turned to check, there was no one. That was the first hint out of many others that came.

The final one? The one where he snatched you into some suspicious alleyway when you were just walking, his larger, brawny frame easily pinning you by the wall. Adrenaline kicked in but you remembered his words like it had just happened. All the desperate begging, the crazed expression, his panting like he had been chasing you, the "I'll stop, I swear!" And the "I'll forgive you if you come back."

As if he had any rights to say he's the one who'll be forgiving you.

And that only led to the temporary solution you had now. A restraining order.

The glass office window fogs with the cold November rain outside. You're the only one left in the building, fingers tapping at your keyboard. Down by the lobby elevators, the lights flicker once, then go still, and you don't notice the shadow through the crack in the door.

SAVING FILE...

The office computer setup whirs quietly in the dark of the room as you finally decided it was time to leave, stretching your arms out with a soft whine that squeaked out while doing so.

"You know you work better by me."

Your head flipped over to the source of the voice, flinching at the sudden break in silence. Immediately, you stood up in instincts. You could barely see the man's face, but your body knew better.

No fucking way.

"Get out. I have a restraining order," you cursed yourself for sounding so meek than you had intended to, but you couldn't blame yourself. In this situation, your adrenaline was shouting at you to do something. To move. To get away.

A low chuckle erupted from your ex, a little too quiet, hollow, like he's hidden some surprise. In one swift motion, he got off the doorframe he was leaning on, slowly walking towards you. Like a predator circling its prey.

"You think a piece of paper can keep you away from me?" Closer now, you could see that wide grin like he was trying not to laugh. As if this shit is funny. Behind that hollow smile, his eyes held a subtle craze in them. Instinctively, you moved backwards away from your computer, stumbling just a moment to grab a hold on something. Anything. The only thing keeping you two apart were the office desks as you refused to take your eyes off of this man.

Clack...

Clack...

Clack...

Slowly. Surely. Closer. The sound of his shoes echoed throughout the office, making it more noticeable how alone you are. He walked just as casually, circling past the desks to get to you. Just as he did, you moved away in a parallel mirror to him.

"You know I became like this because of you," he scoffed, running his hand across his face with an amused chuckle, almost like he was giggling. One that you used to find endearing.

"Don't..." Your voice came out far quieter than you wanted. "Don't come closer or I'll call the cops."

His smile twitched.

"You smiled at me."

Clack...

Another step.

"You held my hand."

Clack...

"You told me you loved me."

Another.

"And now suddenly I'm the crazy one?"

The distance between you shrank with every word. Not because he was walking any faster, but because there were only so many desks left to weave around. Your fingers blindly searched behind you. A stapler, a mug, a stack of files.

Nothing that would stop a man nearly twice your size.

"You need help," the words escaped before you could stop them, then, his expression froze. Silence settled over the office as he stood there like he needed to process those three words.

Your computer continued to hum away while the distant patter of rain against the windows. Even your own breathing sounded unbearably loud.

Then—

He laughed. Not loudly. Not manically either. Just one quiet breath of laughter through his nose before shaking his head.

"You still don't get it," his eyes softened for only a second, gaze on your smaller form as if just seeing you was enough to run a shiver up his spine.

"I don't need help. I need you."

Your stomach dropped.

There it was again, that certainty. The same certainty he had when he'd laughed at the breakup. The same certainty he'd shown in the alleyway. The same certainty that had walked straight past a restraining order and into your office.

To him, nothing had changed. You were still his and you remembered what he said that time. "Honey, a breakup is a mutual agreement between two people, and I don't agree with it. So, we're still together."

Another slow step.

Your back suddenly met something solid. The edge of the window. To him you had nowhere else to go and fuck he noticed. Of course he noticed. His smile widened ever so slightly, not a triumphant one, and not relieved.

Simply... pleased.

Like he'd finally caught up after an inconvenient game of hide-and-seek.

Fuck!!

Your body moved before you could think, rushing to the nearest safe spot before this freak could even lay a hand on you but fuck was he faster. What was once his slow walking now turned to a charge with a loud grunt, one of annoyance as he reached for you and pushed aside any obstacles, completely ignoring the mess.

CLICK

Panting, you backed away from the locked door with your ex on the other side, banging and kicking the thing. He wasn't just desperate—he was delusional.

"Open the FUCKING door."

.

.

.

The banging stopped.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come on... Please baby I'm so sorry. I swear, I fucking swear I'll be better. Just—fuck, please."

You could hardly even stabilise your breathing, hands clasped on your mouth, nearly hyperventilating at this situation. This is the shit you would've seen on the news or some book but it's actually happening to you. You reached for your phone to call the cops but—

Shit. Shit, shit, shit!! You left your damn phone on your desk outside with that psychopath. Before your mind could continue racing, a clenched fist slammed against the door again, yelling like he didn't just try to sway you out with that sweet voice earlier.

"I SWEAR to God if you don't come out now I'm going to rip the jaw out of ANYBODY who even talks to you."

BANG.

The door hinges weakened.

BANG.

The doorknob came loose.

BANG—

"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE."

You felt like sobbing now as you yelled with all your might, crouching down in a fetal position against the corner of a desk in this storage room. Your hands covered your eyes, refusing to acknowledge that this is even real. Too caught up on your current state, you never even realised that it went silent on the other side of the door.

"Hey, hey, look at me. Y/N? It's okay, it's just me."

You flinched at the sound of a woman, your teary eyes making it bleary to see as you backed away as far as you could. Your reaction gave enough information to the detective you had been acquainted with ever since the restraining order, and the last thing she wanted to do now was to interrogate your shaking self, panting as the tears that pricked the corner of your eyes finally fell.

Rubbing your face dry with your sleeve and blinking a few times, you got to see the commotion going in front of the storage room door.

"Ngh—"

Your ex struggling on the ground with several police officers detaining him, yet, he wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you.

As he stopped trying to fight back, he just smiled. He smiled at you, a small chuckle bursting out into a fit of laughter, maniacal and high-pitched despite the bruises around him from being tackled by a group of authorities. The detective remained by your side, one arm instinctively covering your body in a protective manner.

...

"Attention passengers. The train is now preparing to depart. Please stand clear of the closing doors."

It had been four days since that occured. You sat on the bench of the subway station, sighing to yourself from the buildup stress. Your hands fidgeted absentmindedly at the corner of your sleeves when your phone rang.

INCOMING CALL

Detective Kang Min-ji

"Hello?"

"Ms. Y/N? Good afternoon. I'd like you to keep an eye out for your ex please. I'm sorry but he's gone missing. We found his ankle bracelet on the road but please be sure that we're on a lookout for him. If anything happens, call us immediately."

The man with a black cap and hoodie. The man whose back is turned to you. The man wearing a mask. Is he here?

Suddenly, the subway station felt so much more hostile than when you got here. So many hidden faces, leaving you with just silhouettes to be paranoid of.

"Hello? Ms. Y/N?"

Grace knows the answer to that question, of course. Humans are incredibly social creatures, and apparently Rocky is not a suitable substitute for a living breathing human. He can practically feel the loneliness eating away at him, and the feeling is only made worse by the knowledge that he'll never see another human again.

At least he thought he wouldn't.

Grace's thoughts of loneliness are interrupted by Rocky's voice. He looks up to see his friend excitedly approaching him, "Rocky have gift for Grace!"

"What gift, buddy?" Grace doesn't see anything in Rocky's hands, so whatever he's giving him must not be here yet.

"Rocky have new human for Grace. Statement. Small human, pebble."

Grace makes a strangled sound, "wh-what?"

"Grace stupid? Question? Rocky bring new human today. New human live with Grace, make Grace better. Statement."

Grace frantically tries to process Rocky's words. Did Rocky kidnap someone? Wait...Rocky said 'pebble' - oh no! Did Rocky kidnap a child?! How? Where would he even find a human child in space? Grace stares at his friend in abject horror, "Rocky, you can't just give me a human! Where did you even find them? Did you kidnap them?"

"No. Statement. Eridians found other human in small ship, very sick. Bad, bad, bad. Bring them here to help. Eridians make new human better, make Grace better."

"Rocky, buddy..." Grace sighs, too frazzled to explain why Rocky can't just give Grace a living person, "nevermind. Does this new human have a name?"

"Yes! New human is y/n!"

༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

As Grace watches two Eridians carry you into the biodome, he realizes three things:

You're terrified - despite the superior strength of the Eridians, you're putting up a very good fight, kicking and screaming in a desperate attempt to free yourself.

You're very weak -you try to run when the Eridians finally let you go, but you barely make it a few feet before you collapse onto the sand.

You're not actually a child - Even taking into the account the ways in which your obvious state of prolonged starvation influenced your development, you still look to be late teens or early twenties at the youngest.

Grace looks down at the small stuffed animal he's holding - a gift from one of his student back on Earth that he brought to comfort you - and realizes that it's probably not going to do much.

Grace watches as you drag yourself into a sitting position, noticeably calming when you take in your surroundings. That's a good sign, right?

Grace approaches you very slowly, crouch down to be at your height, "hi, y/n. It’s so nice to meet you, my name is Grace."

You look up at him with confused eyes, mumbling, "why are you here? Why would I imagine someone that I've never met?"

Oh. That's not good.

Maybe he just misunderstood, "what do you mean, sweetheart? Why do you think you imagined me?"

You laugh, "because this is a hallucination, obviously."

Fudge. He didn't misunderstand. Grace repeats slowly, "this is a...hallucination?"

"Mhmm," you hum, "I don't mind though. This is a lot better than that room those demons had me in...or I guess have me in?" You pause before laughing again, flopping down backwards onto the sand and staring up at the sky, "or maybe I finally died and this is heaven. That would be amazing."

Demons? Heaven? Grace is way out of his depth here. Rocky clearly left out some critical information about the "new human." Grace stands, "I'll be right back, okay sweetheart? I have to talk to my friend real quick," Grace spots the stuffed animal in his hands and shoves it in your direction, hoping to distract you long enough to interrogate Rocky, "here, take this."

Once he's sure he's out of earshot, Grace hisses at Rocky, "what the hell happened to them? Why do they think they were held by demons? Why do they think they're dead?!"

"Rocky said that new human is sick. Statement."

"Rocky, this isn't just sick. This is...I don't even know what this is! I need you to tell me everything that happened before they were brought to the biodome."

"Eridians find small ship floating outside system. Statement. New human was inside ship. New human very sick, much sicker than Grace was."

Grace interrupts, "what do you mean by sick?"

“New human very scared of Eridians. Statement. Scream at them and call them word you mentioned, ‘demons.’ New human try to hurt self, Eridians have to take weapons away and put in safe room. Eridians can’t fix new human, so they bring them here to Grace. Grace fix new human.”

Grace closes his eyes with a long-suffering sigh, “Rocky, I can’t fix them. I’m not a doctor, I have no idea what to do.”

“Grace only human here. Grace need to fix.”

Grace leaves Rocky with a frustrated huff, returning to your side. He sits back down on the sand, smiling when he notices you playing with the stuffed animal. Maybe you’re younger than he originally thought. Grace softens his voice again, “sweetheart? Can you sit up for me? I need to talk to you.”

You sit up slowly, mumbling to yourself, “you’re really persistent, weird hallucination guy. Or weird angel? I still haven’t figured out the whole ‘am I dead’ thing….”

“Look, I know you probably don’t believe me, but I’m not a hallucination or an angel. I’m a normal human and you’re alive and well here with me.”

You shake your head, “that can’t be true. Why would those demons take me from my ship and bring me somewhere like this? That’s not how demons work.”

Wow, okay. You’re really confident in this demons thing. Are you super religious or something? “Those…those weren’t demons, sweetheart. They’re aliens called Eridians, and they’re actually very nice. They didn’t mean to scare you, they just wanted to bring you somewhere safe.”

“No, they were demons. They didn’t let me pray, which is what demons do,” before Grace can ask you what the heck you mean by that, you continue on, “unless the demon thing was also a hallucination? I guess I could still be on my ship. Or! Or - the demon thing was a hallucination and then I killed myself and now this isn’t a hallucination. It’s heaven.” You nod as if you’re confident that you’ve figured everything out.

Kill yourself? Why are you talking about that?! You’re so young! Grace can’t stop himself from reaching out to grab your hands, “sweetheart, do you…do you want to die?”

You tilt your head, “well, no ‘cause I’m already in heaven.”

“Right, but uh…if you weren’t in heaven, would you want to die? Did you want to…to kill yourself while you were on your ship?”

You nod, “yeah, I did. I was just too scared to do it, you know? The elders say God gets mad at you when you kill yourself. I don’t want God to be mad at me, I want to get into heaven,” you stare into the distance for a moment, your eyes hazy, “I tried anyways, though. Right before the demons showed up. I guess I…I guess I actually did it.”

Not good, not good, not good. What the heck is Grace supposed to do if the only thing keeping you from being suicidal is the belief that you’ve already killed yourself? What if you find out the truth and try again? You would leave him, just like everyone else. He would be alone again.

While Grace is having his own internal panic attack, you’re growing increasingly upset, “b-but wait. If I did kill myself, why did God let me come here? I was bad, I should be punished.”

Grace’s head shoots up and his grip on your hands tightens, “woah, hey, sweetheart. Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true, God has to be mad!”

Grace hesitates. He knows it’s not healthy to play into your delusion that you’re already dead, but what else is he supposed to do? He’s not a doctor, and even if he was, it’s not like he has access to any sort of psychiatric medications. If he told you the truth, you’d get upset and he wouldn’t be able to fix it. You would leave him. He can’t let that happen. He quickly reassures you, “God isn’t mad at you, y/n. He…he told me that he understands why you did that and he isn’t going to punish you.”

“Really?”

God, you sound so hopeful, “of course. God wants you to be happy and safe, that’s why…” Grace pauses. Some small part of him that still wants to be good is screaming at him to stop - he should tell you this isn’t heaven. He should help you recover. Unfortunately, a much larger part of him is screaming that he can’t be alone again. If you think God sent him, then you’ll stay. You clearly need his help and, well...doesn’t he deserve to have someone, after everything he went through? Grace takes a deep breath and buries the tiny voice screaming ‘no’ deep inside himself, “that’s why God brought you here to me. So I can take care of you. So we can be together.”

You’re used to the Punisher’s anger. The Punisher's anger is sharp, clinical. A well-honed blade wielded with devastating accuracy. The Punisher’s anger has a purpose and an output and while you may not like it, you know how to handle it.

Unfortunately, this is not the Punisher’s anger.

This is Frank Castle’s anger, and you absolutely cannot handle that.

Frank Castle’s anger is raw. exposed. A live wire sending of sparks of pain that land indiscriminately around him. Frank Castle's anger has no clear target, and it’s only a matter of time before everything goes up in flames.

Frank stares at you for a long moment, his eyes constantly flickering between your face and your bandaged wound. You can feel the tightness of the precise stitches holding you together, thin threads keeping you from bleeding out.

Frank’s voice is unsteady when he finally speaks, “you could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t?” You offer weakly, trying and failing to sit up. You don’t know how to react to Frank’s anger, so, foolishly, you default to deflection. You ignore the overwhelming fear you felt just hours before, attempting to play off your injuries, “besides, it’s just a stab wound. It’s not like I haven’t been stabbed before.”

You wince as soon as you're done speaking, instantly regretting your words. You can practically see the moment when Frank's anger finds a target: you. Frank stands so quickly that the chair he was sitting on falls backwards, filling the silence of the small room with a harsh clang, “Goddamnit, y/n! Take this seriously! You could’ve died and it would’ve been my fault!”

You freeze - is Frank seriously trying to blame himself for what happened to you? That’s a whole new level of misplaced responsibility, and frankly, it pisses you off. You scoff, “your fault? How could Matt’s girlfriend stabbing me possibly be your fault?”

“I let you leave,” Frank paces in front of you. He looks about ten seconds away from punching something, “I wasn’t there to protect you. It’s my fault.”

“You let me leave?” God, you’re starting to remember why you took Frank’s deal. You might’ve gotten stabbed at Matt’s place, but at least he treated you like an adult, “I’m my own goddamn person, Frank. I don’t need your permission and I don’t need your protection. Why can’t you just leave me alone?!”

You notice the shift right away. Frank stops pacing and just stares at you. His voice is mechanical when he speaks, “is that what you really want? For me to leave you alone? After I just saved your life?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You did not think that through, “I, uh…wait, Frank, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Too late, doll. Let’s see how well you do on your own,” Frank walks out of the room. The door closes behind him with the same finality as the entrance to a tomb.

You’d gotten so caught up in your newfound independence that you failed to notice the growing danger. The way Matt was gone more frequently and for longer periods of time. The way he would sometimes come home smelling of someone else’s perfume. The way he didn’t even bother to answer you when you asked him about it. You had made so many excuses for him, but the simple truth is that Frank was right. Matt was always going to put you second.

You swallow your pride and dial Frank’s number.

He picks up on the second ring, “where are you? Red’s place?” No need for pleasantries, he already knows why you’re calling.

“No, Clinton Church.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, don’t move.” You hear the sound of his truck starting before he ends the call. You shift positions and immediately regret it as pain shoots through your side. You just hope that your shitty bandaging holds up, you don’t want to get blood on the pews. Father Lanthom might not mind, but Sister Maggie definitely would.

You thank a god you don’t believe in that neither of them are here right now. You couldn’t hold yourself together if they started asking questions, and you’re terrified of what might happen if you unravel.

Time stretches into uncomfortable anticipation and you allow yourself moment of mourning for what you will soon lose. After a small eternity, the door to the chapel bangs open and Frank enters like a force of nature. His eyes go straight to you and his mouth sets into a thin line.

“…I can explain?” You offer weakly, well aware that you look terrible.

“Did Murdock do this?” Frank’s voice is far too controlled. You can practically hear the barely contained anger simmering beneath his words.

“No! No, Matt didn’t hurt me. His…well, his kinda sorta girlfriend did?” You pause before adding, “she had a sword,” as if that helps.

It doesn’t. Frank still looks pissed.

“Look, Frank, you can go murder Matt’s hot ninja girlfriend later. Right now I need someone who is slightly better at first aid than me to deal with all of this.” You gesture vaguely at your stomach and the blood that is rapidly seeping through your bandages.

“Shit. Of course darlin’ ‘m gonna pick you up, okay?”

You nod, allowing Frank to carry you out to his truck. You lean against the door as he drives, closing your eyes. Now that Frank’s here, your adrenaline is starting to wane. You feel so tired.

“Hey, doll, you can’t sleep yet. Gotta stay awake for me darlin’.”

You whine weakly, “tired,” closing your eyes again.

Frank shakes you, “no, darlin’. Please, show me those pretty eyes, come on. Can’t lose you too, doll. Can’t let you leave me.”

You force your eyes open and manage to remain conscious for the rest of the drive. Unfortunately, you can’t say the same for the trip into Frank’s safe house. Somewhere between the truck and the door, you fade into a comfortable blackness.

When you wake up, you’re greeted by exactly three things: a pissed off Frank Castle sitting at your bedside, a metal cuff around your ankle, and the vivid memory of the deal you made six long months ago…

“I’ll let you have your little adventure with Murdock, darlin’, but if you come back to me, you are never leaving again.”

You hit the wire at full speed, your momentum sending you flying into a small clearing. You lay there, exhausted and cold, and you’re hit with a tangled mess of conflicting instincts. You can almost hear them screaming in your mind: Safe. Stay. Predator. Run. Safe. Help. Hurt. Stay. Run.

You look around wildly, trying to figure out what is causing your instincts to go haywire. You’ve only ever felt this way around one person, but surely he wouldn’t be…

Oh.

Fuck.

Your father Sabertooth is here.

Your mind spins with questions. Why is he here? Why the hell would he care about you anymore? You’re not a threat to him. You escaped. You’re not with Weapon X anymore. He has no reason to hunt you down, and yet he did. Why?

Why won’t he leave you alone?

You’re too tired to run and too weak to fight - hell, you barely manage to drag yourself up from where you fell. You try to project some sort of threatening facade, even if it’s laughably hollow, letting out a low growl, “I know you’re there, asshole.”

Your father drops from a tree with inhuman grace - the bastard was always more cat than man. He gives you a cocky smirk and tosses something in your general direction, “it’s good to see you too, brat. Gotcha a little reunion gift.”

You catch whatever he threw at you automatically, staring down at it in confusion. It looks like an…MRE? Of all things? You’re pretty sure you’re in Canada right now so shouldn’t it be an IMP? You look back up at him and raise an eyebrow, sending a silent question his way: what the hell is this for?

He doesn’t answer. He just jerks his head in the direction of the package, “go on, eat.”

You scoff, “there is no way in hell I am eating anything that you give me,” you put the MRE down like it’s full of explosives. Knowing your father, it just might be.

He watches you like you’re prey, his eyes sharp and focused, “I can go kill something fresh if you’re worried about poison.”

You shake your head, “still not going to eat.” You clear your throat after a moment, “uh…thanks, though. I’m just gonna…” you gesture vaguely towards the woods and slowly turn around. You start walking, trying to ignore the primal fear you feel when you can no longer see him. Maybe if you just disengage calmly, he’ll let you go. It works on, like…bears or whatever, right? Maybe?

Yeah.

No.

You barely make it three steps before you hear a low growl behind you and feel your father grabbing your shoulders. He drags you back into the clearing, staring down at you intensely. If he wasn’t fucking Sabertooth, you’d say he looks almost concerned. He shakes you slightly, “look at you, you’re clearly starving. When was the last time you ate?”

You blink, genuinely unsure of the answer to that question, “I don’t know, a while. It doesn’t even matter, though, cause I’m not gonna eat.”

His grip tightens, “listen, I’m giving you two choices. Either you start eating willingly or I’ll force you. I’m not going to let you starve.”

You most definitely do not make an undignified squeak at his threat, holding up your hands in defeat, “fucking fine, asshole. Give me the food.”

He sets you down and hands you the MRE. Only after you’ve finished eating does he speak again, “you know, that’s not a very nice name to call your father, brat.”

“Well, maybe I would use a different name if you weren’t hunting me,” you glance towards the edge of the clearing again. Walking didn’t work, but now that you’ve eaten, you might be able to run.

Your father notices and shifts to block your path, “why would I do that? I need to bring you home.”

Home? What the hell is he talking about? You don’t have a home. The closest thing would be the facility, but there is no way you’re going back to Weapon X, “you’re not bringing me anywhere, creep. Just leave me alone.”

“Sorry, brat, can’t do that,” your father’s smile grows wider as he bares his fangs.

Fuck it. You’re just going to run. Some part of you knows that this won’t work, but you still have to try. You pick a direction and just go, fueled by sheer panic and the approximately 1500 calories the MRE gave you.

Your father is on you in seconds, moving with a blinding speed that speaks to both his size and his access to regular meals. He tackles you to the ground and sinks his teeth into your neck. You feel his toxins flooding your system, compounding on your already weakened state and making it impossible to resist him. You stare up at him desperately, trying to understand why this is happening to you. You stammer out, “p-please, d-don’t take me back there.”

In the moments before the toxin renders you unconscious, you swear some twisted form of affection appears in your father’s eyes. He speaks almost gently as he lifts you into his arms, “you’re mine. You don’t understand what’s going on right now, but when you wake up, try to remember that. Try to remember that I’m never going to leave you. Which means I’m never going to bring you back to them…”

“The last thing I’m trying to do is heal anyone,” you protested, grabbing the random piece of junk he’d gestured to. “Just… I don’t know. I want to try to make them happy, at least.”

Before he took his resonator from you, he pulled you closer by your outstretched hand, lifted you up and set you on top of his desk. “Fuck, I love it when you get what I need the first time. You know me so well.” He plucked the resonator from your hands and plugged it into something.

You frowned, swinging your feet as he resumed tinkering. “Are you listening?”

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, make ‘em happy.” He mumbled, consumed by his current project. “Real noble of you, honey.”

You sighed, pulling out your phone. You felt his eyes flicker to you every other second and before long, he let out a long sigh himself. He set down his tools and tech, turning his body to you and pushing your phone into your lap. “I’ll do the errands if you come with me.”

You brightened, your eyes flashing wide. “Really?”

He conceded a smile. “Sure, baby, yeah. Can’t— can’t leave my girl hanging, can I?”

[ ]

Rick trailed behind you as you walked through the aisles of Costco, watching as you dumped things into the cart he was pushing, according to the vision you had for this grand beach weekend. He’d never been one for mundane things, but nothing done with you was mundane. 

You’d really come into your own after the Citadel—he should’ve known that experience would change you for life. After your strong immediate reaction, he thought you’d spiral downwards; burrow down in your hatred, stew in your anger, close yourself off… which you did for a time, but soon abandoned those habits. He’d seen darkness linger over you only to fall away at your deliberate choice to try again. 

You were so soft these days; so sweet and understanding of his dumbass family because for some reason he couldn’t fathom, your experience didn’t make you callous at all—it actually made you more empathetic. You were so good with Morty and Summer. You’d been trying so hard with Beth and Jerry, he was almost pissed at them for not accepting your peace offerings sooner. He just wanted to see you put out of your misery.

He reminded himself he didn’t care about that shit. He’d told you it was futile but you didn’t want to listen, which you’d been doing more and more these days. In any case, he already had what he needed. If you wanted a beach weekend, no harm, no foul. 

The thought that plagued him at night was that you’d done something with your darkness, something that he was incapable of. It kind of scared him, but he was better at running from his feelings than anything else. The way things were was the perfect scenario for him.

“Wait, wait, wait— Omg! Rick, look.” You showed him a set of six water guns. “It’s the perfect amount.”

“Woah, crazy.” He said, because he didn’t know what the fuck to say. When was the last time he even went grocery shopping? He delegated all of that stuff to Summer. 

You tossed the set into the cart. You continued to stroll down the aisle and Rick followed, committing the way your eyes scanned the shelves with that thoughtful pout on your lips. You were undeniably dangerous.

“Hey!” A girl he didn’t recognize ran up to you. “What a crazy coincidence!”

“Brynn, hiii!” You gasped and hugged her.

“You brought your sugar daddy out today, huh?” Brynn nodded to him. He remained silent. “Damn. Guess he only functions as a wallet.”

You pushed her playfully. “He’s slow to warm up. We’re shopping for our beach weekend.”

Brynn lit up. “That’s so cute! Wait… Good idea. I think I’ll steal that.”

“I’ll text you our Airbnb if you wanna pass by.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll call you? If I decide to…”

Your and Brynn’s pleasant chatter faded to the background. Rick’s fingers tapped the cart handlebar incessantly. Mundane was one thing; domestic was another. You were never supposed to leave his garage—this thing was never supposed to leave his garage. He suddenly felt claustrophobic, muted mental alarm bells ringing until Brynn walked away and it was you two again. 

“I think we’re good.” You sucked in a breath, joining him behind the cart. “Do you think they’ll be excited?”

He felt you weave your arm through his as he pushed the cart towards checkout and all his stress vanished. “So excited, baby,” he hummed and kissed your forehead. He was being overdramatic. 

[ ]

You were so nervous ahead of telling the Smiths about the trip. You’d checked Beth and the kids’ schedule and chose the most uneventful weekend. You booked and bought the Airbnb, got all the snacks, the activities, the whole nine yards—it’d seriously suck if they straight up rejected you.

Rick left you in your room after you showered to change into something comfortable. He found Beth, Jerry, and the kids loitering in the kitchen, waiting for instant pizza to heat up. 

“Hey, grandpa Rick.” Summer was the first to greet him. “You wanna wait for pizza with us?”

“Not at a—uuurp—ll,” he said, pulling the fridge open and pulling out a pack of beers. “Just wanna let you know, that— that the household ‘slut’ as Beth and Jer so nicely put it is stressing over planning a relaxing, fun beach getaway for you guys. Got a beach house and everything. Fuck if I know why, just putting that out there in the hopes– you know, to make you feel guilty. ‘Cause you guys fu–uuuurp—cking suck.”

“Are… You’re not lying, are you?” Jerry frowned. 

“Jerry, I don’t need to lie to make you feel bad. You do that on your own.” Rick cracked a can open and chugged it. 

“She rented a house? Seriously?” Beth questioned incredulously. She exchanged a long look with Jerry. Beth smacked her lips together. “She… didn’t have to do that, Dad. Why didn’t you stop her?”

“That’s your response? You really do suck.” Morty said. 

“Yeah.” Summer pulled out her phone, no doubt updating all her socials. “Anyway, did she say which beach? Omg, I have to pack and I only have one swimsuit. Shit. Mom, can I use your Amazon Prime?” 

“Don’t get too excited.” Beth warned her, crossing her arms and turning to Rick. “Dad, doesn’t this sound like… Oh, I don’t know. Lovebombing?”

“And Beth knows what lovebombing looks like,” Jerry joked only to be met with groans. 

“I just think it comes across as bribing us for our approval,” Beth put her hands up in surrender. 

“Beth, sweetie, I think you’re looking at it wrong. When was the last time anybody liked you two enough to do shit like this for you? Can you– D’you think you can put a date to it? The last time someone you weren’t related to gave a shit about you?” Rick tossed his empty can in the trash. “You got a pretentious streak that doesn’t sit right with most people. It’s also why you have the delusion that anyone needs your approval for anything.”

“Wow, okay. How about I’m your daughter and you should respect my opinion?” Beth shot back.

“Beth, Beth,” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “How– How abo—uuuurp—ut you cut everyone some slack and enjoy a free vacation? Anyway, you didn’t hear anything from me,” Rick said once he heard your door swing open. The family stood a little straighter when they heard your footsteps nearby, and watched you like deers in headlights when you hesitantly rounded the corner into the kitchen. 

You were immediately put off by their strained smiles, feeling like you’d lost before you even tried. Rick leaned against the countertop as he downed his third can. 

“Hi,” you started simply.

“Hi,” they all said in perfect unison. They immediately passed each other looks.  

Okay. “Um… So, I was thinking… since everyone’s schedule is clear this weekend, maybe we could all head down to the beach?” You asked, chewing on your lip as you awaited their answer. You felt the weight of Beth and Jerry’s stare especially and began to ramble, “It’s really nice out! I checked the weather.”

“She checked the weather, guys.” Rick echoed. 

“How thoughtful,” Beth began slowly. 

“Yeah, s– so thoughtful!” Morty grinned. 

“So… you guys in or…?” You asked.

“Yep! We’re so excited!” Jerry chuckled. “Right, Beth?”

“So excited.” She nodded.

“Yay, beach weekend!” Summer squealed, and they all went upstairs to start packing their bags, boisterous chatter following them up the stairs.

You exhaled in relief. Rick lifted his arm and you fell into his side, soaking up some much needed warmth. “See? Told you they’d be excited,” he mumured above you. “Le– Lemme hear it.”

“You were right,” you smiled at him. 

“Yeah.” He finished the sixth can and tossed it, grabbing the entire pizza from the oven and dragging you along with him into the garage, grinning like an idiot, as usual.

[ ]

The drive to the beach was long. Everyone was deep in their phones (or in Jerry’s case, his iPad), except for Rick, who had chosen to drive the family car rather than his spaceship. Beth sat in the passenger’s seat, having a hushed conversation with Rick that you could tell he wasn’t pleased with. Suddenly it all felt like a stupid idea. Suddenly you felt stupid. 

The thing between you and Rick was real, now; not a hypothetical thing you teased each other with from time to time. The rose colored glasses were gone the moment Beth found out. You weren’t Rick’s girl; you were a stranger in the Smith’s house, sleeping with the grandpa. What business did you have trying to budge into a family that didn’t want you? Apart from the fact that you wanted to be wanted, to belong, to be a part of something bigger than yourself, what reason did they have to accept you?

They were impressed by the Airbnb, at least. It was the best you could afford with all the recurring payments to your account, something Rick had set for you a while ago when he wanted you to accept that you didn’t need your old job anymore. 

The Smiths bolted around the modern beachouse, taking in the high ceilings, the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the veranda that overlooked the beachfront. They quickly dumped their stuff in rooms to claim them, and you could’ve sworn you saw Beth and Jerry laughing excitedly when walking into their section of the house. 

“You’re tense,” Rick said, startling you out of your thoughts. “I can’t even– I can’t even fathom why you’re doing all of this in the first place, but you’re at the fucking beach. Enjoy it for yourself. Besides, the ocean’s supposed to be healing or… or some bullshit like that.”

“Yeah, but apparently Beth is immune to those kinda things. I just want them to like me, too.” You sighed. 

“Too? What, you like them that much?” He rolled his eyes, stepping into the kitchen and rifling through the half-filled cupboards. 

You followed. “I like you and they love you, so… something, something, we should meet in the middle or— or close the circle, or…”

He snorted, pulling open a bag of chips. “I get what you mean, babe. Counterpoint: it should all be linear. Entanglements on one end and– and then family far, far, faaaarrrr away on the other side. Less– Less of a hassle that way, you know? Plus, more of you for me. Don’t wanna share if I don’t have to.”

You gave him an amused look. “Don’t tell me you’d get jealous of your own family.”

“Ohh, not jealous, baby. Never.” He hummed condescendingly. 

“Yeah, okay, big guy.” You rolled your eyes with a smile. Rick’s eyes flickered past you to the stairs where the rest of the family trotted down to the main floor, clad in swimwear. Morty and Summer raced to the bag with the waterguns, hands and feet flying to push the other to gain an advantage. 

Summer held up the water guns triumphantly. Morty tackled her in the next second. They tumbled to the ground with a thud, words blending together in their hurried argument. 

“What’s happening?” You asked them. You’d all gotten used to this behavior. 

Morty stood up indignantly, pointing at a very entertained Summer. “She– She stole ‘nd hid my phone! She said if I didn’t win, like, keep away or some other crap game, then she’d DM every girl in my grade—”

“—something super embarrassing. I haven’t decided yet.” Summer finished for him, tearing open the packaging. “Maybe I’ll focus on Jessica,” she teased, emphasizing every syllable of his crush’s name. 

“Summer!” Morty screeched in horror. “Just– Just gimme my phone back! Rick– Rick, tell her to give me my phone back!” 

“I’d do it if I cared, Morty,” Rick shrugged. 

“...three, four, five… six! There’s enough for all of us.” Summer hustled to the kitchen sink, filling each gun one by one. “Guys, daylight is fading. We need to make the most of beach weekend, okay? I need all of tomorrow to take nice pictures, and maybe even the day after.” Summer said, muttering more to herself than any of you. Her voice raised as she yelled for her mom and dad. “By the way, I don’t want Dad on my team. Let’s split up, girls vs. boys.”

Morty let out a belittling sound. “Rick on my team? Yeah, that’s– I’m okay with that. You’re going down, b– bi– you bitch.”

“Morty, don’t bother swearing if you’re gonna fuck it up like that.” Summer’s eyes then narrowed at her grandpa. “And no weapons or tech of any kind, grandpa. That’s the rules.”

“Lame.” Rick groaned. 

“He thinks so ‘cause he can’t use a gun without aim-assist,” you said, smiling sweetly at Rick. He glared at you.

“No fucking shot you use aim-assist, grandpa.” Summer gasped, looking over her shoulder. 

Rick bristled, churning satisfaction within you. “It’s a failsafe! A precaution for– for when I’m drunk. And I don’t actually use it.”

“That’s what they all say…” Summer sang, screwing the final water gun closed. 

Rick snatched the gun from her. “Oh, yeah? You’ll see how much grandpa needs aim-assist.”

Beth and Jerry joined the rest of you by the kitchen. Summer quickly explained her rules for her game: a beach ball would be placed between the two teams. To start the game, each team would run from their end of the field to grab the ball—whoever gets the ball first has to run to the other team’s end zone to score a point. The other team has to prevent them from doing so, steal the ball, and run to their enemy end zone. First to five points wins. 

Beth, you, and Summer on one team, and Rick, Morty, and Jerry on the other. You all made your way down to the beachfront. The sun was on its way down, sharp blues dissolving into beautiful yellows, oranges, and purples. Waves shushed you as you approached, but if you knew the family, things were about to get obnoxiously loud. 

“Okay, Mom, do you have a game plan?” Summer whispered as the girls team huddled on their end. 

Beth’s eyes flickered between you two. “Honey, are you sure you don’t want to just give your brother his phone back? This seems pretty extreme. There’s a perfectly good beach chair calling my name right now.”

“Omg, Mom, it’s not about that anymore. Live a little.” Summer whined. “I dumped and refilled our guns with saltwater while grandpa Rick was setting up the end zones. Aim for Morty and Dad’s eyes. Hopefully they’ll fumble and take grandpa down with them. If not, just… beat them up. The guns are lowkey kinda heavy enough to get some good hits in.”

Beth’s lips quirked up. “It’s always nice when I remember we’re related.”

“Can’t you, like—” Summer huffed, shifting her attention to you as her train of thought spun off its tracks. “Can’t you distract Rick? Where’s your sexy hot girl swimsuit?” She asked you.

You tried your hardest not to look at Beth. “I’m wearing it, but, uh… it’s under my coverup.”

“Well, get ready to use it.” Summer nodded with determination, a gesture both you and Beth mimicked. 

You three spread out along your end zone. The beach ball was burrowed in the sand between you and the boys, who were yapping on their side. The field was about five Smith car lengths long. 

“Are you losers ready?” Rick yelled over the rushing waves. 

You all voiced your confirmation and the game commenced. Beth and Summer shot out from your endzone. Rick immediately went after his granddaughter, shooting his water gun at her and missing. She laughed and taunted him as she weaved his shots while landing a few of her own. Beth and Jerry were the first to the ball but Jerry cowered at Beth’s strong approach. She scooped up the ball and started to run to the touchdown zone. By this point, she regained Rick’s attention, who barked orders at Morty and Jerry to stop her. When the two started after her, you primed your gun and sprayed Jerry in the face. He wailed and rubbed his eyes, earning strong words from a disappointed Rick. Morty blinked up at you and sprinted away. You didn’t have the heart to do the same to him—you just put him in a headlock before he could yank Beth off her trajectory. Beth slammed the ball into the boys’ endzone, spinning and whooping in celebration.

“Why’d I get stuck with these idiots?” Rick grumbled as he returned to the game field. He was dripping wet, unlike Summer. His eyes flickered between you and Beth. He came up to Beth and ruffled her hair. “Good– Good point, sport. Not that you had proper competition.”

Beth beamed up at him. You swore you saw stars in her eyes. 

“Wow, this may be the one and only time having a dick puts you at a disadvantage,” Summer mused. She pulled out Morty’s phone to his horror and typed away. The iconic swoosh sound sealed Morty’s fate. 

“Summer! You asshole! I’m– You better not have sent anything!” Morty screamed. You released him and he scrambled to regain his footing, pointing an accusatory finger in his sister’s face. 

“It’s not my fault you guys suck ass at keep away.” Summer shrugged, holding his phone out of reach. 

“Rick! Do something!” Morty pushed his grandpa, as if that would communicate his distress.

Rick groaned. “Okay, okay. We’ll play you for the phone. If you lose, you have to give your phone up. No photos for the– for the ‘gram for you.”

“The ‘gram?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Why am I being punished because Morty is a lame piece of shit that can’t even jump and steal back his phone?” Summer squeaked. 

You backed away from the screaming match to where Beth stood. She glanced at you sideways, and you didn’t find the indifference you were used to. She sighed. “Thanks for all this. You really didn’t have to.”

“Just wanted to treat everyone,” you said. “I know all of this is far from the ideal situation.”

Beth pursed her lips, putting her hands on her hips. “It’s— fuck. Look, it’s not not ideal, either. Just… complicated.” 

A glimmer of hope bloomed in your chest. You could do complicated.

“And you two– are you guys fucking sleeping? You idiots didn’t land any shots.” Rick insulted his team. 

“They’re following your example,” You called in their defense. 

His eyes met yours. A wide grin split your lips. You stepped back when you realized he was gearing up to chase you, breaking into a sprint the moment he did. Your laughter echoed through the air as you booked it away from him.

“You got a smart mouth on you— C’mere,” he snapped playfully and cut you off your path.

“Okay, wait– wait, wait–” You giggled as you dodged him, only for him to get an arm around your midsection and yank you back, up, and over his shoulder with a clear trajectory to the water. “Wait—! The water’s gonna be cold, Rick, wait—” You squirmed in his arms, trying your hardest to twist and fall away. 

“Gotta pay the piper, princess,” Rick said. You could hear the smug little grin in his tone. 

Over the next hour, Rick, Morty, and Summer were caught in a vicious competition—best of five. With Beth’s help and Jerry dragging his team down, Summer came out on top. Every round loss was a text she got to send. She dropped Morty’s phone back in his hands once all was said and done, skipping triumphantly to the beach house knowing she wouldn’t miss this photo opportunity. Morty scrolled through all of his chats for damage control. Beth and Jerry offered weak, empty comfort as the three followed Summer into the house. 

The sun kissed the horizon. Deep purples and reds overtook the softer yellows and pinks. The push and pull of waves lulled you deep into the pits of your exhaustion, and the soft breeze felt like a blanket wrapping around you. You started for bed when Rick tugged your wrist back. 

“Drink with me,” he said. 

Of course you agreed. He moved a single lounge chair down to the beach, reclining on its clothed surface and cracking open a bottle. You straddled his hips and snatched the bottle from him, chugging as much as you were able in one go. He distracted himself with your coverup, fingers breaching the hem of it. He pulled it up and peeked at your swimsuit underneath, humming in appreciation. “Hiding from me?”

“No,” you hummed, feeling the warmth travel down your throat into your stomach. It didn’t take long for your head to feel light and airy. 

“Feels like it,” he muttered, taking his turn with the bottle. “Like– like you’re just here for my grandkids.”

“Thought you said you wouldn’t get jealous of your family,” you said, laughing softly when he rolled his eyes and waved you off. “They’re just a bonus, silly.”

“You’re not cold?” He ran his hands up your arms, feeling around for ocean water that he would’ve dumped on you. Finding none, he continued, “Al– Also, I missed all my shots on purpose just to be clear.”

A knowing smile grew on your face. “I know. You’re a good grandpa 20% of the time.”

“Wow, high— high praise,” he gruffed. He finished the bottle and immediately grabbed another from the pile he lined up beside the lounge chair. 

“You think I could get my own room? Jerry should get his den back.” You enjoyed the way his expression darkened when you wiggled your coverup off; his eyes never left yours, yet somehow you felt like they crawled over your entire body. You never felt exposed; you felt seen. And being noticed was a nice, rare thing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, honey,” he said in a daze.

You slid off his lap and snuggled into his side, tracing lines up his bare chest. His warm, rough palms guided your thighs to tangle with his legs before he settled back with a gratified sigh. 

You’d come to know many different Ricks: Drunk + High Rick was the most gentle and sweetest version, Drunk Rick was a hit or miss, but with you there were more hits than misses, and High Rick was a clown show. Rick hadn’t been getting shitfaced drunk as often as before, but when he got to that level, he was astoundingly more affectionate. 

By the time night fell on the beach, he was out of his mind. His arms were firm around you, squeezing you closer as if wanting to smother you, or to smother himself with you. His lips brushed your shoulder, then neck, then jaw as he sank into your body. You two were irregular pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly. He drunkenly whispered, My perfect girl, being so sweet to me, hm? Need– need one of these beach weekends, just you and me, just– Just me and my girl.

Your eyes drooped, comforted by the sweet nothings tumbling off his lips. You believed him when he said everything was going to be fine. Despite everything, you believed him. 

[ ]

A particularly cool gust of wind shocked you out of your slumber. Your body groaned from the uncomfortable position you and Rick had fallen asleep in, but your senses quickly returned upon seeing the black, ominous ocean before you. 

You glanced up at the beach house. All the lights were off—it had to be well past midnight. You reached over Rick for your coverup, dusting it of sand and slipping it over your chilled skin. You secured his portal gun next, shooting a portal to your room and rolling Rick into the green swirl. 

When you fell through, Rick was already curled up on the bed. He didn’t bother to burrow into the sheets. You dusted the sand off him and the bed before draping a loose blanket over him. 

Thirst begged for your attention and you figured since you were already up, you could manage a trip to the kitchen before passing out. The vibrant room had a dullness to it under the moonlight, all greys, blacks, and blues. 

Beth was sitting on the ground when you arrived, knees to her chest. Most of the cabinets were ajar, and like Rick a couple hours ago, she was drinking bottle after bottle. Empty ones rolled around her. She noticed you once you got close enough. Her voice came slow and labored. “I drank all your shit.”

“Oh, that’s…” you cleared your throat, stooping to collect the empty bottles and toss them before anyone in this drug-addled, alcoholic family took a wrong step and cracked their head somewhere. “That’s okay, it was for you and Rick anyway.” 

At the mention of his name, Beth frowned. You could tell she was trying to fight her emotion, but her stoic expression broke within seconds, tears brewing on her waterline. Your mind stalled; you weren’t sure how to approach this at all. 

“Are you okay?” You asked. It seemed too shallow for the situation, so you followed up with, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just— ugh, stop being so nice,” she complained with a watery cough. She sat up and swiped her cheeks. “This… All this was easier when you were just a damsel in distress, so I could— when I was able to believe that my dad had done something good for the sake of doing it, not…” she breathed in deeply, tired, red eyes meeting yours. “You’re not here ‘cause you feel… I don’t know, indebted or—”

“No, that’s not it at all,” you quickly cut her off, sinking to her level and laying your feet out in front of you. “The times he’s saved me just about cover the times he screwed me over. I’m grateful, but… it takes more than that to stick around here.”

“And you… you feel more?” Beth asked.

“Mhm.” You didn’t have to think about it. “For you guys, too. I was in a really, really bad place, and being with your family made things seem normal. It helped, when Rick didn’t.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. “Normal.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You don’t think so?”

“I know not— I know so,” she hiccuped.

“Well… normal enough.” You smiled.

A weightless silence fell over you. Beth swirled the remnants of her drink in her glass as her knee swayed absentmindedly. 

“He’s been better,” she spoke up again. “Since… Since you’ve been fucking, I guess.”

Your eyes fell shut in embarrassment, heat blooming on your face. You wanted to say that it wasn’t only sex, but you still couldn’t coherently explain what Rick meant to you. 

“I just… You make him happy. And why wouldn’t I want him to be happy?” She laughed wryly. “I want him to be happy. Of course I do. I wanted to be the reason why, not– not some whore he picked up from a strip club.”

Your urge to sling back an insult was almost too powerful to ignore, but in a very much one-time show of emotional maturity, you absolved her of her comment. Maybe in her drunken stupor, she forgot who she was talking to and leaned into the fact that someone was listening. 

“Because I’m his daughter— he should act like it.” Fresh tears rolled down her face as she rifled around for a new bottle. “I just got him back, I— I deserve a chance more than anyone else, before anyone else. And between you and… and fucking Morty, you’re taking up all of his time. Fuck, he even went out of his way to take Jerry to an high-end alien hospital—”

“Beth, okay,” you interrupted her, shedding your acquiescent approach for a firm touch. “He’s not happy. He’s just less miserable, and us fucking does contribute, but he didn’t come home to get his dick wet, did he? Why’d he come home, Beth?”

She blinked. “‘Cause on some level you know if he was only here for Morty, he’d have left already, don’t you? Why stick around if he’s just gonna have to follow all your rules?” You continued. 

She was quiet for a moment. “Hm.” 

“There’s a lot of things he should be doing, you’re right, but I can’t really say anything about that except that it’s not your fault and… trying to rationalize someone as irrational as him is gonna make you lose your mind. I tried it.” You plucked the new bottle from her hand and popped it open, refilling her glass before sipping on the mouth of the bottle yourself. 

“It’s… You’re fine with him,” she mumbled. “I don’t understand why I can’t be.”

You licked the wine off your lips. ‘Cause I accept what he is, was your first thought. It didn’t seem right to say. 

Beth and Rick were the only ones that slept in the next day. You didn’t have much appetite for rest with everything on your mind. Summer made her way to the beach to get her photos, Morty hooked up his console to the TV, and Jerry went on a walk somewhere. After grabbing something to eat, you headed out to bask in some much needed sunlight. 

You spread your blanket along the sand, close enough to feel the cool mist waft off the ocean’s surface, and wedged an umbrella nearby for shade. All this weekend showed you so far was that you needed to get out of the house more often. Rick might’ve been joking, but it really was healing. It was busier today—lots of families and couples spread out along the sand, flocking around the occasional ice cream cart that passed by. 

Summer eventually crossed your path. Her bikini was a deep pink with cute bows at either side of her hips. She lit up upon seeing you. “You gotta help me.”

You tilted your head. She explained that nobody she came across so far took good photos and she was about to crash out. You agreed to help her, tossing off your coverup and tugging the straps of your bathing suit. You’d taken loads of photos for the girls at The Lounge; you were practically a pro at this. 

“Are you two sisters?” Someone asked. You and Summer both looked over with impassive expressions. 

“If you’re gonna use a shitty pickup line, at least use one that makes sense,” Summer rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” the guy came closer. His hair was bleached to oblivion, swim trunks hanging low on his waist. He was flanked by a few of his buddies. “I just couldn’t stop myself from trying to talk to you.”

Summer crossed her arms. “We’re trying to take pictures.”

“Yeah? You want one together?” The guy forcibly ripped the phone from your hands and pushed you towards Summer. Your protests fell on deaf ears. “Come on. We want to get those hot bods in one photo. It’s only right.”

You opened your mouth to tell him off, but before a single word escaped, the guy disintegrated into a pile of ash at your feet. 

You and Summer screamed, grabbing onto each other as you backed up. The cool touch of the crashing waves were the last thing on your mind when you noticed Rick approaching, the glare on his face weighted by the remnants of sleep. His bedhead was still evident and he still had the same shorts on, but he’d grabbed an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt before leaving the house.

The rest of the frat buddies barely got a chance to run before Rick’s aim found them, reducing them to ash. “Holy shit,” you whispered.

Rick stumbled up to you both, digging in his shorts’ pockets for a wad of cash. “Here, Summer, go and— go blow some money somewhere. Indulge in capitalism. And–” he gave her his gun. “There. Just in case.”

“Holy shit, fuck yeah,” Summer’s quest for the perfect photo was quickly overshadowed by her urge to splurge. “Thanks, grandpa Rick.”

“Uh-huh,” he waited for her to skip away happily before grabbing your hand. “Can’t go anywhere without getting into trouble, can you?” He pulled you back to your blanket, dropping a device on top of it. A tent spawned. He no less than threw you inside and zipped it up behind you both. “Wake up and find out you’ve gone out— what the fuck do you need alone time for?”

The beating sun made the tent glow around you, drenching you in whimsical, electric blue lighting. You sat down on your blanket, watching Rick angrily fiddle with the last bit of the zip track. “I tried to wake you up,” you said dumbly.

“Didn’t try hard enough, sweetheart,” he hissed, ragebaiting himself further by simply recalling what that guy had called you. “Fuck. I need to put a fucking deterrent in you some– somehow. This can’t keep happening. Everywhere you go, someone gets on you.” The irritation in his eyes softened as he crawled over you, eager hands squeezing your thighs, then hips, then tits. “I bet you’re having a good time at your grand beach getaway. We had a perfectly fine room but since you wanna walk out on me so bad, here’s juuust fine.”

You arched into his touch, eyes fluttering. Jealous and possessive. Two for two. A smile grew on your face. 

“Y– Y– You think this is funny?” Rick half-heartedly glared at you. 

“Yeah,” you teased. “Mr. Never-Jealous. It’s hilarious seeing you getting bothered over some community dick frat guys.” His eye twitched, hungover and tired brain trying to find a clever rebuttal and coming up empty. You rolled on top of him, pushing his shoulders down gently. “What were you gonna do, hm? Make me remember who I belong to or something?”

“Or something,” he muttered. His touch roamed up your body, sufficiently distracted by the way your swim suit accentuated the best parts of you. You bent over to kiss him. He responded instantly, fingers splaying over your waist to pull you closer.

“I remember fine,” you reassured him. “I can show you.”

He swallowed, eyes tracking you like an animal primed for hunting. “Y– Yeah?”

You tilted your head, committing this moment to memory. “You sound kinda nervous.”

“I’m not.” He rebutted a little too quickly. He reached up to hold you but your fingers gently circled his wrists and pushed them down to either side of his head. You were finally in a position to toy with him, and he was the one to walk right into it. 

You dragged your lips along the shell of his ear, your chest pushed up against his. “Are you gonna throw a fit every time I wander off without you?” You pressed your lips to the corner of his. You could feel how his arms twitched automatically, like being this close to you and not touching you was torture. “Hm. You must like me or something.”

His face was fixed into a half-lidded glare but when you propped yourself up again, shifting your weight to his lap, his eyes lost focus for a moment. 

What a pretty sight. You smiled. “I’m not hearing a no…” It was so satisfying to watch, especially after what he did to you the first night you got reacquainted. 

“N– fuck, not hearing a yes, either,” he shot back. 

“I think I got a pretty big one right here,” you teased, rolling your hips over his pulsing cock.

Rick’s fingers twitched beneath yours as his breath came in a short burst. He opened his mouth to spit out some quick, filthy remark—to regain the upper hand, somehow—but his tongue felt heavy, his hungover head spinning with a sudden, dizzying rush of blood. He wasn’t sure he even wanted the upper hand anymore. “Fuck,” he whispered. He’d been in control of everything for so long, he underestimated how thrilling it was to relinquish it.

The blue nylon dome around you two acted like a magnifier, trapping every drop of humid ocean air and radiating heat off your bodies. Your skin was slick against his, and every time you shifted your weight over his hips drove Rick out of his mind. You leaned over him, dragging your open mouth down the hot column of his throat, letting your teeth lightly graze his pulse point. Just teasing the fuck out of him and finding little resistance. 

You loosened your grip just enough to let your fingers interlock with his, pinning his hands flush against the soft sand beneath the blanket. The playful arrogance you’d built up softened slightly as you looked down at him—at the way his dark eyes flickered open just enough to track every shift in your expression.

“Aw, are you frustrated? Flip me over if you wanna. Or admit you like it down there,” You cooed teasingly. 

His defensive nature kicked up in full effect. He glared up at you, struggling against your grip. “Pretty sure I remember a pillow princess, princess. Y– You– Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

You smiled at the challenge. “You’re gonna find out.”

[ ]

Before you knew it, your time at the beach came to a close. You temporarily fucked the evil spirits out of Rick; he’d been walking around in a daze. You didn’t expect getting on top and riding him to oblivion would have such an effect on him but you found yourself craving to do it again. The man was pussydrunk. He even helped Jerry load the car. 

Summer was pleased to shove a crazy amount of shopping bags into the trunk as well, and on the ride home, she was scrolling through her camera roll and sighing dreamily at her successful photos. Morty had a bit of a tan going and even some sunburn from sitting in direct sun for hours while gaming. You fished some of your lotion from your bag and applied it through his winces. 

Rick was at the wheel again. Beth was in the passenger’s seat. There wasn’t any tension in their conversation as far as you could pick up. 

When you all pulled into the house, everyone retreated to their own spaces. You went into your room to tidy up—if Rick remembered his promise, he’d build your own space within the day. Jerry was more than happy to have his mancave back, and just like that, his opinion of you flipped. 

Rick handed you a chunky gun that was connected to a tablet. “It’s like the Sims. Design it here,” he gestured to the tablet, “and then fire the gun to make it real. G– Got it? You can attach your room to the garage and kitchen.”

“You’re not staying?” You tilted your head, catching Beth as she got back into the car. 

Rick jabbed a thumb at the driveway. “Me and the kid are heading out to Shoney’s.”

It took everything out of you not to smile. “Oh, okay. Have fun.”

He still read your expression like a book, squinting as he joined Beth in the car. They drove off, leaving you with your fully customizable room system. 

Designing your own space made you realize how indecisive you were. It took hours to ensure it was made to your liking because Rick made every little thing customizable, down to the baseboards. There were hundreds of furniture options, lighting options, and wallpaper options, but eventually you ended up with a space that you were so happy with. 

Summer and Morty made their way over upon hearing all the commotion. They were enamoured by your space, and even more so with the Sims tablet. You let them have free reign with it and they took turns manifesting additions for their own rooms. Of course Jerry also got in on it, getting a new 98” flat screen TV for free. His unemployed ass probably cried in his room after setting it up. 

Rick and Beth didn’t get home until much later. Beth was the first to find you. She poked her head into your new room, taking it in and nodding in approval. “Nice.”

You looked up from your phone. “Thanks.” 

“I, uh… I have a housewarming gift.” She said hesitantly, setting a bag on a nearby surface. 

You got up and rifled through the bag, pulling out a generic matching pajama set. Your smile was slow to spread through your momentary confusion.

“We all have one just like it,” she said. “I figured you should have one too, since… you know.”

Holy shit. “Thanks. Really.” You controlled your expression, hoping not to scare her off now that you knew that finally, finally, the entire family was okay with you again. 

“I shouldn’t let my dad get in the way of something good for the kids.” She shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Anyway, thanks for this weekend. Goodnight.”

“Night,” you called after her as she took her leave. Holy shit. 

You allowed him to string you along to his garage. His momentum was the only thing making you walk; had he let go of your hand, you’d have stood idle and probably crumpled against the nearest chair. He pressed a button and a flat table rose out of the garage floor. He let go of you to strip to his slacks and lay back on the surface, exposing the panel in his chest. 

You dragged your feet over to his side. It was way too early for any kind of hard thinking. 

“Here’s the deal—” he started. 

“Don’t you have some protocol or mini robots to sort through this mess?” You raised an eyebrow at the tangled cords in his chest cavity. “Wait, back up. Why do you have this in the first place? Where are your organs?”

“All very good questions, sweetheart. Love– love your curiosity. Not my concern though. If you don’t untangle this, I’m gonna explode.” He said calmly.

The declaration was like a bucket of cold water to your face. “What?!” 

“In…” A screen was projected from his wrist with a big, red countdown. “Three minutes.”

“Holy shit,” you whispered, not feeling the slightest bit tired anymore. You dove into the panel and threaded your fingers through the mess of wires, pulling them free as fast as possible. “You’re the worst.”

“You know, I don’t believe you anymore,” he grinned, folding his arms behind his head, as if you were lathering him up with sunscreen on a casual beach day.

“Believe it,” you mumbled. You yanked one cable especially hard, causing Rick to wince and lose his nonchalant demeanor. 

“You really need your sleep, huh?” He met your glare with a smile. “You’re doing so good, baby, look– look at those hands go, huh? Got some experience with those? What you’re used to s’probably sooo, so much bigger than these wires, am I right?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to focus,” your eyes flickered to the countdown. One minute left. You sucked in a breath. “Please, please, please—” you begged the last chunk of wires to be agreeable with your detangling. 

“Begging, now? You must like me or something,” he teased. 

Your face grew hot. He just loved holding that blatant confession over your head—barely went a day without mentioning it. 

“Oh– oh, we’re getting down to it. Oh, here we go, ten seconds left— oh, I really hope I don’t blow up, that— that would seriously suck—”

Your fingers flew through the last of the wires and detangled them fully before the clock hit zero. Simulated cheers and digital fireworks went off all around you but you were in no mood to enjoy them. “You’re okay now, right? You’re not gonna blow up?”

“Never was,” Rick groaned and stretched, sitting up and closing the chest panel. “They were itching and I didn’t want to sort it out, so.” He kissed your cheek. “You did good, though, tha– thank you sweetie.”

You stared at him as he pulled up scans on his computer to ensure all systems were still functional. Before you could yell at him, Morty stepped into the garage. You both spun to see him in his PJs, a set that you were fairly certain matched with his sister. Morty’s expectant eyes bounced between you and Rick, his expression falling every time he looked at you. 

“What?” Rick asked hastily. Morty’s frown deepened at his tone.  

“N– Nothing, I guess. Since you’re already occu– occupied.” Morty glared at the floor, leaving the way he came just as fast as he arrived. The house creaked as he stomped his way up the stairs back into his room, slamming the door shut. 

“Morty’s pissed off, Beth’s passive aggressive, Jerry’s… Jerry. Summer is the only one who doesn’t give a shit. The whole house is basically against me,” you said defeatedly. You sat on Rick’s workbench as he scrolled through his digital files. “I… I think I should move out.”

“Nope.” He said without raising his head. 

“They’re clearly uncomfortable with me being here, and being around you. I can hold my own, -ish… kinda. Your tech will do the heavy lifting anyway.” 

“I don’t care.”

“You should care. They’re your family.”

Rick slammed his fist on the table. “S– So– So, what? I get something good going for myself and because they feel put out, I have to give up to make them feel better? Fuck that.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Your brows knitted. “Just… Did you see his little face? He always looks like that these days. He’s just a baby.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “He’s fourteen.”

“He’s lonely, and he needs attention. I feel… I dunno, maternal about him, okay? He’s been nice to me and stood up to his parents on my behalf a few times. His own parents, Rick. I don’t wanna be the reason he feels sad.” You pouted, kicking your feet absently. 

“Fine, fine, fine,” Rick sighed, logging out of his computer and pushing his chair away from the workbench to look up at you. “We’ll a–uuurp—ll go on an adventure to– together.”

You threw your hands up. “You’re not hearing me. The whole point is for you to spend time with him, like you used to. You know, Rick and Morty, hundred years forever and ever.”

He huffed. “That’s not changing but nei–uuurp—ther is this,” he gestured between the two of you. Your spirits lifted at the sweet assertation. “He needs to get used to you, ‘cause you’re not going anywhere. They all need to get used to you, get– get their shit together.”

You turned the scenario over in your mind, every outcome coming out negative. “He’s just going to be agitated.”

“When he sees that you’re not Morty and he’s not you, he’ll come around. The kid really likes you, honey, don’t stress about it.” Rick stood and cupped your chin, tilting it up to kiss the anxiety out of you. He was always so good at that. “And don’t bring up that moving out shit again.”

[ ]

“Y– You sure you really need me here, Rick?” Morty’s arms were crossed and he sank far into the passenger seat. 

“Shut up, Morty, this is the fifth time you’ve asked that,” Rick took his eyes off the windshield to glare at his grandson. 

“Whatever,” Morty muttered, turning to the far window stubbornly. You and Rick exchanged a look through the rearview mirror. 

“If you’re gonna be a brat, we can go back home right now,” Rick threatened. “An– An– And you’ll be lucky to get the chance to… to scrape gum off the garage floor.”

“Oh, sure, Rick,” Morty said sarcastically. “You know, there’s nothing more I wanna do than clean gum off the floor. ‘Cause– ‘Cause that’s what I am, r– right? A gum cleaner?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rick’s aggravation came through his tone loud and clear, serving to activate more of Morty’s anger. 

He waved his hands around, gesturing to the three of you. “I– I’m talking about this! We– We– This was supposed to be our trip, just cruising around in space, you know… cruising around as Rick and Morty! But it’s not Rick and Morty, it’s Rick, her, and then Morty! Why am I even here?!” 

“Morty, relax,” You shifted to the edge of your seat to hold onto his shoulder sympathetically. 

He blinked and slumped back down. “L– Let’s just get this dumb adventure over with.”

A bug slapped against the windshield, startling all three of you. Rick tried to wipe it off the glass, but instead smeared its multicolored exterior all over it. Morty recoiled in disgust. 

“Guess I’m out of wiper fluid.” Rick surveyed the nearby planets. “One of these has to have some.”

He brought the ship down to the nearest planet, parking the car in the middle of a strip of wooden buildings, like a frontier settlement in the old days. The ship sent a plume of dust from the dirt road below. When it settled, a local approached the car.

Rick rolled down his window. “Hey, muchacho, does your planet have wiper fluid yet, or are you gonna freak out and start worshipping us?”

The guy looked fairly old. He was some sort of hybrid with fur for skin and puppy ears sticking out of his head. “The general store ought to have what you need.”

“Thanks.” Rick’s eyes searched the line of buildings for the general store while winding up the window. 

“Of course, you’ll be wanting to be gone from here by sundown.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Wait a minute. What? Why?” Rick’s full interest returned to the local. You craned your neck around Rick’s seat to get a better look at the guy as he explained about a festival that was going to happen that same night. He was smiling as he recounted the history of this festival, but an impending sense of doom started to set in.

“For millennia, our society has been free of crime and war, living in perfect peace—”

“Oh, oh, I know what this is! You’ve been able to sustain world peace because you have one night a year where you all run around robbing and murdering each other without consequence!” Rick cut in giddily. You and Morty sent an incredulous look his way. 

“That’s right.” The local chirped happily. 

“What?!” Morty exclaimed, the fear in his voice evident. 

“It’s like ‘The Purge,’ Morty. That movie, ‘The Purge?’” Rick explained. “You know, sometimes it’s called The Cleansing or The Red Time. There was this one world that called it just Murder Night. I– It’s a purge planet. They’re peaceful, and then, you know. They just purge.”

“Th– That’s horrible!” Morty reached over Rick to force the window all the way up. His fearful gaze swept their surroundings, every person passing by potentially a murderer. You were more concerned with the fleeting sunlight.

“Yeah.” Rick relented, but you knew his thoughts were on fire. “...You want to check it out?”

You and Morty sighed. You both knew it was coming.

You tried to stay out of their bickering to make it seem like this adventure was a Rick and Morty thing, not a Rick, ‘her’, and Morty thing, as Morty had so eloquently described it. Over the next hour, Rick replaced his wiper fluid and parked the car among the clouds to get a front row seat to the purging, much to Morty’s distaste. He argued that it was morally wrong and a horrible thing to get enjoyment from, but of course Rick didn’t really care. 

Morty gained the upper hand when he caught feelings for a helpless girl being cornered below, threatening to tell Beth about where Rick had brought him if he didn’t help her out. Rick reluctantly landed the ship to save the girl, ushering her into the ship for safety. Morty gave up the passenger seat to her, squishing into the backseat beside you. 

He tried to engage in conversation with Arthricia. You couldn’t take the second hand embarrassment anymore and leaned over the driver’s seat to have a hushed conversation. “I’m bored.”

“Makes two of us, sweetie.” Rick flipped open a handheld console, playing some generic video game. 

“Told you you should’ve left me home.”

“And force myself to listen to Morty’s version of flirting? No chance.”

“My nana!” Arthricia shrieked, shocking everyone out of the sense of safety that had settled inside the ship. All eyes looked over at her. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You just remembered your nana?”

“Shut up, she’s– she’s probably traumatized!” Morty turned on you, glaring venomously. 

You held your hands up in surrender, feeling a twinge in your heart at his quick outburst. Rick crossed his arms. “Holy shit, get over yourself, Morty. Ho– How are you talking to her like this?”

“Well, excuuuse me if I– if– if I don’t take you guys seriously! You– You don’t care about anyone else but yourselves! Somebody has to be the good guy here and– and it’s gonna be me!” Morty shoved Rick to the steering wheel. “Go, go, go!” 

Rick flew the ship to Arthricia’s nana’s house. “I don’t mean to– I don’t wanna get Morty’s balls in a twist, but haven’t you been through, like– I dunno, fifteen purges already? Wouldn’t nana become routine by this point?”

“I– Can you just help me save her?!” Arthricia pleaded desperately. 

“Fine, whatever.” Rick and Arthricia got out of the car, running over to the house to find her nana. Morty leaned over the center console in anticipation, laser focused on the house. 

“Morty, are you okay?” You took the opportunity to speak up and get to the root of the problem. 

Morty didn’t respond but his frown deepened. 

You continued against your better judgement. “I’m sorry if I’m ‘occupying’ your grandpa too much. I like you guys as much as I like him, and it’s never my intention to take him from you or from the family. You know that, right? ”

“Well, you are, s– so.” Morty snapped.

You didn’t know how to explain. You weren’t going to apologize for liking Rick, or him liking you—you’d gone through so much to get to this point, and you liked where you were. But you knew from the moment you stepped foot in the Smith household that everyone fiended for Rick’s approval and attention. It probably united them to have a common ‘enemy’—someone who’s not even family that captured the full intensity of Rick’s affection before any of them did. 

You pulled him back and held his shoulders firmly. He blinked up at you. “Morty, be so for real. Everyone knows it’s Rick and Morty. Your mom knows it, your dad knows it, your sister knows it. You see how they kinda get jealous of the relationship you have with Rick; Summer split time because of it. Because he came back to the family for you—because you’re his first adventure buddy before anyone else is, okay?”

“Not anymore.” Morty’s shoulders drooped, but he didn’t push you away. Progress.

You sighed. “Morty… Rick and I are getting used to each other. I’m new to him, he’s new to me. I saw you with Jessica—you were gonna allow Rick to rot in his Tiny Rick body if it meant getting closer to her.”

Morty’s face turned red. “Wh– What? Wh– What does that have to do with anything?” 

“I mean that you were gonna brush off your own family to get a chance with Jessica. You don’t think Rick would do the same, too? Not saying it’s right, but… The novelty of me will fade and it’ll go back to business as usual, I promise.”

Morty shook his head and pulled back from you. “It– it’s whatever.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “It’s not whatever. This is the most upset I’ve seen you the entire time I’ve been here.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, o– okay?!”  

You didn’t have the time to feel hurt—gunshots went off in nana’s house. Arthricia ran out with Rick’s gun. Morty’s breathing picked up beside you, eyes widening when Arthricia pointed the gun at the two of you.  

“Oh, crap, oh man! D– D– D- Did she just kill Rick?!” Morty whined. You climbed into the driver’s seat and locked the doors just as Arthricia pulled on the handle. She grunted in frustration and stepped back, aiming the gun again at your head. 

“Get out!” She yelled. “Get out now, or I’ll shoot you!” 

“Can’t hear you through the glass, bitch,” you ignored her, pressing some buttons on the dashboard. “Ship, can you purge this backstabbing piece of shit?”

“Affirmative,” the ship chirped. A machine gun emerged from the trunk, leering over the glass dome and pointing its barrel at Arthricia. Her grip on the gun slackened and fear flashed across her face. Morty screamed in protest, pulling on your arm urgently. 

“No, no, no you– you can’t kill her! No purging!”

“Morty, she’s gonna steal the ship and leave us behind, and then we’ll be the ones being purged.” You pushed him into the passenger’s seat. “She shot Rick! Let’s just get rid of her, grab Rick, and head home.”

“We– we’re the good guys, we’re better than them! Just– Would you put the giant gun away!” Morty wrestled with you for the controls. In the midst of all his interference, the machine gun retreated into the trunk but the doors also popped open in complete surrender. 

His eyes shot up at your deadpan expression sheepishly. 

“Get out of the flying machine!” Arthricia jabbed the gun into your arm. You and Morty tumbled out of the car, backing up slowly. She climbed inside and locked the doors, booting up the engine. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Y– You can’t leave us here! You’re killing us! You hear me? Come back!” Morty yelled to no avail as Arthricia clumsily piloted the ship towards the town. “Oh, man. We’re gonna get purged, aren’t we?”  

You rolled your eyes and hustled back to ‘nana’s’ house. Morty followed behind. “Rick!” He screamed upon seeing Rick bleeding out on the ground. You knelt at his side and pulled him to sit up, assessing the state of his wound—a clean shot through his liver. 

“Fucking Amish bitch shot me! She tried to purge me, Morty. You let your wiener do the walking, and now I’m dead, Morty!” He snarled, blood leaking from the shot wound in his abdomen. 

“Rick, she, uh…” Morty glanced at you guiltily. “She took the car.”

“You fucking kidding me, Morty?! She took my car and the gun—we’re like the rest of these assholes now. W– W– We’re gonna get purged, Morty.”

“That’s what I told him,” you muttered under your breath. You helped Rick up to his feet, acting as a crutch to get him out of the burning house. “I think I remember that healing juice you made me. Morty, you need to make it, okay?”

“Me? I don’t– No, you should do it, you’re the one that remembers!” Morty protested, jogging to catch up to you two. 

“I’m sorry but you’re useless with a gun, and Rick is bleeding out. I’ll tell you what to do.” You said firmly. 

“Uh– Why don’t we just use Rick’s portal gun?” 

“It’s in the car, dip-ass. Fuck, it hurts.” Rick whined and leaned into your shoulder. “It hurts so much. She got me right in the fucking liver. It’s the hardest-working liver in the galaxy, Morty, and now it has a hole in it. I hope she was worth it.”

“I was just trying to do right.” Morty pouted. 

“Yeah, well, that’s not really the theme of tonight’s party.” Rick nodded ahead of you where a crowd of bloodcrazed locals were approaching with stakes and clubs. “Heads up.”

“Take him, Morty.” You passed Rick over to Morty, stepping in front of the two of them. You hadn’t fought since the Citadel, but you trusted your instincts enough to brute force your way through this. 

“Wait! You’re gonna get purged!” Morty said frantically, looking up at Rick. “Help her, Rick!”

“I wanna, but somebody’s little sidequest got me shot in the liver. Should– Should I rub my liver hole on them, Morty? That’ll show them, won’t it?” Rick pulled you back by your shoulder. “And you, do you have a death wish or something? Let me—”

One murderer charged at you. Morty screamed and cowered behind you, dragging Rick back down with him, immune to Rick’s instructions. Your fight or flight kicked in, grabbing the man’s wrist to stop his swing and kicking him in the chest. He toppled back and left his sword in your hands. You used the blade to slice his limbs off before finally decapitating him. His blood splattered over you, and when his twitching finally stopped, you pulled back. 

“Damn.” Rick whistled behind you.

“Look at that, I still got it,” you smiled to yourself, flipping the bloodied sword between your hands. Leftover adrenaline pulsed through your body.

“Still?” Rick’s eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah,” you said.

“Wh- What’s that supposed to mean? Who’d you ‘get?’”

“You,” you answered. “A version of you, at the Citadel.”

The wheels turned behind Rick’s eyes. All he said was, “Nice,” with a dumb smile on his face. 

The four other murderers hesitated but probably found strength in numbers, rushing at you at once. When you ran at them with equal determination, their trajectory slowed, and you used their moment of hesitation to drive the sword clean through two of them, twisting and leaving them to bleed out. The other two switched up their tune and turned on their heel, running back the way they came.

“Okay, let’s find somewhere to hunker down.” You waved Morty through the pile of bodies. Morty whimpered as he slid through the blood, foot tapping one of the dismembered limbs. You flashed him an awkward smile. “You’re… you’re okay, honey, come on.”

“I hate this planet,” he cried, earning an annoyed sigh from Rick. 

You boarded the new house you found with any heavy crates and boards you could find. All the while, you were listing the ingredients and steps for Rick’s healing juice. 

“W– Wait, go back– What was the last step?” Morty asked hurriedly. 

“For fuck’s sake, just let me,” Rick groaned, painfully picking himself off the ground. 

“You shut up and call Summer to get whatever ‘game-changer’ you said we needed.” You glared at him, your stress levels rising to an all time high. You hoped Morty realized that though you were Rick’s girl, the last thing you wanted was to go on every single adventure Rick decided to entertain himself with. 

Rick cursed and pulled out a traditional phone, dialing Summer and immediately finding himself in an argument with Jerry. Once the house was purge-proofed to your satisfaction, you approached Morty’s table and assessed his progress. “This is good. Put that entire thing in the vial and you’re done.”

“O– Okay,” Morty snatched the ingredient you pointed to and dumped it into the serum. It hissed and sizzled. “Okay, I did it!”

“Good job, Morty,” you ruffled his head and finally, finally got a smile out of him. You grabbed the serum and knelt beside Rick, lifting his shirt and pouring the serum onto his wound. He choked and cursed when it set in, but like your leg, his skin was good as new within the minute.

He coughed and peeked at you through his pained expression. “Bet you’re— shit, bet you’re enjoying this, huh?”

“So much,” you confirmed, pulling him up. The three of you headed to a nearby lighthouse to set up a beacon for the package Summer was supposed to send Rick. The way there seemed clear as far as you could see—most of the people were lifeless on the ground, blood and weapons scattered throughout the meadow. 

“Just remember, if there’s people in there and they try to purge us, we gotta purge them first.” Rick said, eyeing Morty sternly. 

Morty narrowed his eyes up at Rick. “We’re not purging anyone, Rick, all right? W– Will you stop suggesting it?”

“Morty, if we’re gonna survive tonight, you’re gonna need to harness your repressed rage.”

“I don’t have any!” Morty insisted, earning a look from both you and Rick. 

“Spoken like a person with repressed rage,” Rick mumbled. 

You rang the lighthouse’s doorbell when you stepped onto the porch. An older local opened the door, thinly-framed glasses perched upon his nose. His eyes darted between you three. He sighed. 

“I take no part in the festival,” he said. “If you desire to kill me, I only ask you do it quickly.”

“We’re not too keen on the purge, either, sir. We were just hoping to get on the roof of your lighthouse so we can send a beacon to my sister on earth. It’s a different planet tha– that we need to get back to.”

The lighthouse keeper hummed in thought. It didn’t take very long. “I’ll let you use my lighthouse for shelter and beacon-sending… on the condition that you listen to my tale.” 

“Your…?” You tilted your head in confusion. 

Rick pushed past you, Morty, and the keeper, jabbing a thumb upstairs. “Deal. I’m gonna go to the roof and set things up. You guys listen to his tale.” 

You and Morty exchanged a look and sat with the keeper to hear this big tale of his. He brought out a giant stack of paper that was loosely bound, and started reading off a screenplay. You got comfortable on the couch and tried not to doze off. The keeper wasn’t as concerned with you as he was with Morty, whose expression he checked every five minutes. 

“Fade out. Title: ‘the end’... question mark?" The keeper flipped the last page and looked up expectantly.

“Wow.” Morty said blankly. He cleared his throat and eyed you out of the corner of his eye with a clear cry for help. “It’s... G– Good job… Yeah. Good job.”

“You didn’t laugh at the scene in the bar.”

“I… thought it was funny, but I wanted to hear the rest.”

“Do you have any thoughts? Notes?”

“No. I— I just enjoyed it. That’s my note— you know? Please– uh, please write more.” Morty flashed a big smile. 

The keeper was silent for a moment, studying Morty’s expression. “Hm. Seems a little insincere.” 

Even you were getting annoyed. With a sigh, you stood to your feet and crossed your arms. Morty scrambled to follow. “Okay, we listened to your tale. We’re gonna check on our beacon now.”

“Oh, you misunderstand me, miss! I was only trying to get the boy’s true thoughts. I want to improve my writing, you see.” The keeper stood, hugging his manuscript to his chest. 

You were about to push back again when Morty obliged his request. “All right. Well, um… I’m not a huge fan, personally, of the whole ‘three weeks earlier’ teaser thing. I feel like, you know, we should start our stories where they begin, not start them where they get interesting—”

“Get out.” The keeper’s tone flipped completely. He threw his script onto his chair and pointed at the door.

“What?” You and Morty said simultaneously. 

“I’m sick of this. You bang on my door, you beg me to help you, I share something personal with you, and you take a giant shit on it.”

Your bewilderment was painful to bear. “You just said—”

“Hey! Nobody asked you to speak, lady. You’re not even in my target audience.” The keeper interrupted, completely consumed by his offense. 

“Woah– uh, you can’t talk to her like that! Or– or me! We’re guests here!” Morty yelled, marching away from the keeper up the stairs. The keeper was hot on his tail, barking insults at him. You quickly followed behind them both, sensing tensions rising. 

“You’re not guests here anymore! I want you out!” The keeper shouted once you reached the top of the lighthouse. Rick spun around, clearly not expecting a fight to unfold with a local that seemed far removed from the planet’s purging traditions. “Take that thing down. Your grandson and this lady are shitty people. Leave now.”

“What did you do?” Rick narrowed his eyes at Morty. 

“I didn’t do anything! I listened to his entire screenplay—  tell– you tell him!” Morty spun to you for support. 

“It’s true. We both sat through it.” You confirmed. You peered over the local’s head and beyond Rick and Morty. The beacon seemed to be set up properly, at least. Hopefully whatever you needed to get out of there would be here before you had to seriously argue with this insecure freak. 

Speaking of, the keeper whirled on you accusingly. He sized you up and stepped into your space. “I’m sorry. You ‘sat through it?’”

“We sat through it,” you doubled down, tilting your head to deliberately provoke him. After the twenty minutes of redundancy you just sat through, the horrible night you had to fight through, and the prospect of getting home within the hour entirely uncertain, you were ready to pick a fight. Maybe it’d make you feel better. 

“Yeah, did you want us to weep with joy? It’s terrible!” Morty piled on, his voice rising. 

“Morty, shut up!” Rick’s eyes swung between you and Morty. “You guys were just supposed to smile and nod, how– how fucking hard could that possibly be?”

You and Morty both sent bad vibes in Rick’s direction. Of course Mr. ‘dump all the shitty work on everyone else’ had the breeziest time at the lighthouse. 

The keeper snarled and used his last power play. “That’s it– I’m taking down this beacon.” 

Morty scrambled to block the doorway. “Hey, that’s not fair! Just because you hate your own writing doesn’t make us bad people!” 

You pulled the keeper back by his shoulder to get him off of Morty and step around him, only for the keeper to find the backbone he’d been lacking all the years and push you down the stairs in anger. You didn’t even hear what stupid catchphrase he spat out—the motion was so swift that you offered no resistance when your foot slipped into a free fall. You tumbled down a few stairs with a pained scream until a thick, cold metal arm snapped tight around your body before your feet rolled over your head for a third time and stopped your sharp descent; the abrupt stop made your head jerk back and hit the edge of a step hard. 

Morty’s voice was muddy and faraway. Black dots dotted your vision before overtaking it completely. 

[ ]

“What the fuck?!” Rick yelled over Morty’s head, glaring at the lighthouse keeper. With Morty in the doorway and the keeper taking up the landing, he couldn’t even get a visual on you. Your scream came to a blunt end and he didn’t like that one bit. 

“Haha,” the keeper panted, the rush of his deed catching up to him. His smile grew. “Haha! I’m not petty or insecure! You want to walk all over me? Not in my lighthouse! See what happens to anyone who wants to shit on my shit!” 

Morty yelled out and surged forward, violently shoving the keeper down the stairs. No one to save him—he rolled and flopped all the way to the bottom, breaking and cracking bones with every few steps. He hit the ground at an odd angle and broke his neck. 

“You like that? You want me to cut to three weeks earlier when you were alive? Fuck– Fucking annoying piece of shit!” Morty called down the stairs to the keeper’s dead body. 

Rick retracted his metal arm with you in tow and quickly assessed your vitals. You were alive, just unconscious. His fingers worked their way through your hair to feel where you got hit. His frown was unmistakable when he brushed over the throbbing bump at the back of our skull. 

“She’s okay, right? Did– did she get purged?” Morty’s bravado momentarily took the backseat as he approached Rick’s side. “Holy shit–”

“Shut up, Morty, she’s not dead.” Rick said. He glanced at his grandson and quirked a smile. “You just purged that guy. Told you that you were suppressing something.” 

Morty didn’t respond, as if reminiscing about it. The beacon beeped, signalling his package was nearby. Rick attached you to his back like a backpack, fastening you snug against him, before he raced to grab up the package that crashed on the gallery deck—two superpowered exosuits that could take out every bloodlusted native on this planet. 

The minute Morty was clothed in impenetrable armor and equipped with a myriad of weapons, he went crazy—flying through the town and sending missiles at the locals without a second thought. Rick, for once, was surprised at how eager Morty was to take advantage of Purge rules where he was once so adamant at denouncing them. It freaked him out. Morty was never like this— never supposed to be like this. Being timid and a pushover was kind of the kid’s thing, and it was what made their thing work so well.

“Okay,” Rick put his hands on Morty’s shoulders, patting him. “You’re just shooting corpses.” Morty let another round of bullets fly on the piles of flesh at his feet. “Okay, buddy, that’s good. Good job. Time to go home.”

Morty panted wildly and shoved Rick off of him. “Screw you, Rick! I'll purge you, too, you old, rickety piece of crap! This has been a long time coming— you know what? Why don’t you take your new sidekick and fuck off?” 

“Sidekick’s kinda need to be conscious to be– to be useful, don’t they? You– do you see who’s conscious right now, Morty?” Rick snatched Morty’s wrist before he could get far. “Would you get the trigger happy out of your system already?”

“It’s be– because I’m expendable, right? ‘Cause– ‘Cause– ‘Cause you can dump allll your shit on me and go on about your day?”

“No you fucking idiot, it’s because I put so much effort into getting your parents to let you come on adventures that it’d be the biggest fucking mistake to let that all go to waste. Morty, do you think I want to go through the hassle of making her do all the meaningless shit that you do? Nobody’s quite as spineless. We all good and square? G– Good.” Rick’s grip tightened around Morty’s wrist as he took off to the skies and pulled him along with him, ignoring any further protests. 

[ ]

Your eyes fluttered open, staring up at the stars whizzing by through the glass of Rick’s ship. You had been tucked in the backseat, sheets fluffed up all around you. Curtains separated the driver’s area and the back, allowing you the darkness to rest. You sat up slowly, peering through the curtains to see Rick tapping his fingers on the center console with his other hand hanging off the steering wheel. 

Morty was resting across from you, stirring in his sleep. You recalled the last events you remembered clearly, questions burning your tongue. 

A beep made Rick look down at the dash. He cursed and descended to a nearby planet, storming out of the car and slamming the door shut. A series of clicks told you that you were safely locked inside. Rick walked off to an alien gas station and almost instantly got sidetracked by all the snacks shelved inside.

Morty blinked awake when the ship shook after Rick’s rough exit. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Are we home…?”

“No,” you answered gently. You didn’t want to force a conversation like you’d done the last time. 

Morty stretched his arms over his head. “You– You okay? You’re not, like, brain damaged or anything, right? Rick said you’d hit your head pretty hard.”

You hummed, rubbing the back of your head and feeling the swollen point of impact. “It’s aching, but that’s about it. Hopefully no brain damage,” you joked.

“I… I pushed the guy. I purged him. Pushed him down the stairs and he…” Morty gulped. “Died.” 

“Oh. Uh… thanks, Morty. Wouldn’t expect that from you, being all anti-purge and all.” You smiled. “Did you feel good about it at least?”

“I did, yeah, when it happened. Now, it’s like— it’s like how was I able to do that, you know? I think I was just angry. Rick said I had repr– suppressed rage or something, so. I think he knocked me out to stop me from going crazy.” Morty mumbled. You nodded and looked out the window to pass the time when he spoke up again. “I’m– um… I’m sorry.”

Your focus snapped back to him. “What?”

“You know, for… for being mean to you.” He said, physically shrinking into his corner.

You softened. “You don’t have to be sorry, Morty. You weren’t being mean to me. I get it. The last thing I want is to take your grandpa from you, or Beth, or Summer. Or– Or Jerry…? I guess? I’d get a little territorial too if some random came into my family and started to monopolize someone.”

“But– But you’re not random. We know you. You can’t take him away if you’re one of us, I guess. You’re like— you actually listen to me, and you hang out with Summer, and you take care of Mom and Dad’s house and stuff, so… It’s stupid.” Morty’s expression turned downcast. “It’s like every time I try to talk to anybody, they act like they’re– like a literal piece of shit is trying to talk to them. Rick does that less than everyone else, kinda. And if he has you then he doesn’t need me and if he doesn’t need me, then– then my parents are right. I have no friends and I can just be left behind to die whenever, at any time, you know?” He laughed it off nervously. 

“It’s not stupid,” you insisted. It was usually easy to ignore how broken the Smith family was as a unit when you knew how broken they were as individuals. Beth had her drinking, Jerry had his general uselessness, Summer struggled with feeling unimportant or inadequate, and Morty had a laundry list of trauma you were sure he wasn’t even aware of. Hearing Morty say it in his words nearly immobilized you, but you weren’t exactly surprised he was carrying this with him. You felt so bad that you didn’t even have any profound words to string together; you wanted to offer comfort as soon as possible. “Your family needs you, especially your grandpa. No one would leave you behind, certainly not– certainly not to die. Rick would never.”

He shrugged and laid back against the ship. 

“Half of the reason I’ve adjusted is because you’d been there to tell me how to cope. That shouldn’t be on you, but you went out of your way to help me anyway. I’d have drank myself to death otherwise.” You reminded him. “You’re my little buddy, too, okay? If you’re ever feeling like that, you can come to me. We’re in this Rick thing together.” You offered your pinky. “Are we good?”

He perked up, smiling. He hooked his pinky around yours in a promise. “We– We’re good. Does this make you, like, step— step-grandma, or—?”

“Omg, no,” you said quickly with a laugh, pulling back and settling against the pillows behind you. “No way. Don’t let that stick. Pretty sure Summer would run with that if she heard it.”

[ ]

That night, Rick came into your room a little after 2AM. You didn’t know that he’d listen to the ship’s playback after you and Morty went back to your rooms for the night, and he didn’t plan on telling you. It was good you were around to coddle Morty’s angst. The kid needed that sort of thing. He heard the faith you’d placed in him—a little optimistic, especially after what you’d been through, but that was what made the declaration that much sweeter. He sat with the dangerous feeling you’d instilled in him until he needed to be beside you again. He needed that sort of thing.

He climbed under the sheets and felt around your head again, pleased to find the swelling of your bump had gone down. You shifted as he got comfortable, turning around in his arms and nudging into his side. His arm came around to rest around your shoulder. 

“You okay?” You mumbled sleepily. He was sure you wouldn’t even register what he’d say.

He hummed affirmatively. “The Morty problem should be– should be fixed after the day we had. ”

He felt you frown against his skin. “Morty’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rick rolled his eyes. It was rational to assume that if you were soft on him, you’d be soft with the rest of the family. He’d have to mentally prepare for all the guilting you’d partake in, and how easy it’d be to bend him to your will for his family’s sake if you wanted to. Morty had learned how to do so recently and he fell for it every time. Now that you and him were in some sort of alliance, he could only imagine what boring activities he'd be made to do in the near future... He guessed he could make little concessions here and there to keep his adventure buddy and his girl happy enough to avoid complaints.

At his acceptance, you snuggled closer. “Don’t wanna go on any adventures for a while,” you said.

He huffed a short laugh. That was his and Morty’s gig, anyway.

Your heart fluttered, skin taking on a feverish temperature. He felt the shift, ego churning as he got confirmation he was doing something right for you after doing a lot wrong. “I hate that you went outta your way to— to fuckin’ doll up for that random piece of shit—”

“Rick,” you laughed, bright and soft, at how disgusted he sounded. “I was horny, okay? And you haven’t been exactly available, have you? I’ll put the set on for you if you want it so bad.”

“Nah, I’ll get something for you.” Rick hummed. Then, after a moment, “Throw the old ones away.”

You rolled your eyes. “Careful. You’re dangerously close to being a sugar daddy.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, huh?” Rick leaned back to catch your eyes. You tilted your head innocently, and a snide smile grew on his lips. “Nothing happens in this house without me knowing, sweetheart. Not even your off-the-books booty call to your stripper friend to encourage underage drinking. That’s a crime, you know, y— you’re a criminal.”

“Add it to the list,” you teased. You wondered if he knew that you’d killed one of his alternates in your escape from Paradise. Not that he’d care.

“‘Got myself something of a sugar daddy. He’s got just the cutest family.’” He recalled, mocking your voice and earning a jab to his side. 

“I meant everyone except you, by the way.” 

“Three out of four of them got their genes from me, by the way.”

You sucked in a breath. “I dunno, I think Jerry had more hand in Morty and Summer than you did.”

“Don’t I know it.” Rick grumbled under his breath. “Those poor, poor kids.”

You sat up and turned in his arms, an exasperated grin on your face. “Your so-called strong genes weren’t enough to save them. Put out barely a generation later, how’s that make you feel?” You mimed holding a mic to his lips. 

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.” He grabbed your wrist and tugged it over his shoulder, coaxing you into his lap. You straddled his hips without protest and his hands came to rest on your thighs. “Summer’s promising, at least. Kinda.”

You hummed in approval. “Morty has his moments, too. Don’t roll your eyes, he does.” You pushed your luck a little, cupping his face and turning it to both sides. Rick was surprisingly amenable, letting you touch and manhandle him as you pleased. “Last time you were in here, I choked you out.”

He laughed hoarsely. “I remember the ‘threatening to stab me with a glass bottle’ a liiiitle bit more. Y– Y– You know what? I think the choking made up for it.”

“Dirty old man.” You scrunched your nose, to his amusement. “Rick… I’m different from the others, too, right?”

“Huh?” Rick narrowed his eyes up at you.

“Different, like… I’m not programmed to like you no matter what?”

“Like me?” He grinned, hands creeping up your sides. 

“Focus.” You fought to maintain your stern expression. 

He scoffed, falling away from you. “D’y– Do you think that I’d—?”

“You did put your tech in me,” you reminded him. 

He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, pursing his lips. “It doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Citadel’s got some split-brain, Jekyll and Hyde ass procedure and the stuff I put in you makes whatever they do null and– basically null and void.”

“Basically?” You squinted.

“Fi–uuurp—ne, entirely.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re not programmed, you’re not influenced, you’re just you.”

“Hmm. Okay.” You put his hands back on your waist before sliding your own up to his shoulders. He folded his knees up behind you, drawing you closer. His eyes flickered all over your features, sticking over your lips. 

“Are we– are we good?” He swallowed, leaning in. 

“Mhm.” You drifted closer. 

Your nose bumped his and he tilted his head, slotting his lips to yours. You readily returned his hungry kiss, feeling warmth pool in your stomach when he groaned low and soft, just for you to hear. Your eyes fluttered as he pulled you in needily by the small of your back, splaying his fingers over your tailbone— he handled you so confidently, like he knew how you wanted to feel before you did. 

“Rick,” you mumbled against him. Your legs itched to squeeze around his hips and satisfy the ache between them. 

“I know,” He pulled your lower lip between his teeth, allowing you to finally breathe for the first time since he claimed your lips. Your hands found themselves buried in his hair, pulling at the roots. He moved his focus to the smooth skin of your neck next, kissing down the curve of your shoulder. “Fuck, I needed this— wanted it since that stupid cowboy planet. You’re running hot, baby, how long you been holding out on me?”

You swallowed a shuddering breath as his thumbs breached the waistband of your shorts. Your hips canted forward instinctively and you hid your face in his neck. His quiet laugh made your skin burn hot, though as he grabbed your ass and dragged your hips along for you, whatever embarrassment you felt was quickly forgotten. 

“So pent up you gonna get off in my lap?” Rick teased, breath fanning your ear. He was all talk—you could feel him growing underneath your thin shorts, coaxing you into a slow, heady grind. His sharp inhale brought a lazy smile to your lips. “Yeah. That fuckboy you had was gonna be a—fucking waste of your time.” He held your hips down as you rocked teasingly against him, shifting his hips up to match your movements. 

“Mm… You sure?” You hummed, pressing a delicate kiss to his neck. “‘Cause you’re getting about as far as he did.”

“Oh— oh, there she is. Found your voice, baby?” Rick shot back. 

His warmth left you as he toppled you off his lap onto your back. Your thoughts buffered, a cold flash striking your chest as you considered the possibility of being left there, feeling like that. For a moment, all you could see was his shadow looming over you. The cool mattress sheets provided little relief for your heated skin—the craving long neglected only started to wane when Rick grabbed your knees and split them around his hips, nudging his erection against your heat with just the right amount of pressure to send your nerves buzzing with excitement. 

“Hm? Don’t tell me you lost it again.” He grinned as he observed your moon-soaked expression. With one hand, he eased you into an arch. He shrugged off his lab coat, balling it up and stuffing it under your lower back. 

“Fuck—” your voice failed you. He looked light, but the weight of Rick’s hips made you starkly aware of how empty you were. “Fuck you,” you manaded to huff weakly, grasping at his arms.

“I’m gonna. Gonna make you feel s’good,” he murmured against your lips, stealing another dizzying kiss. “Don’t you worry, you’re gonna get– Rick’s gonna give you what you need, baby.”

[ ]

Morty tapped his fingers together awkwardly. “So… no adventures today? Y– Y– You’re not gonna pull me out of school and tell me to eat something that looks like shit?”

“No.” Rick sighed, furrowing his brow. He dropped his tools onto his workbench and turned in his chair to his grandson. “What, do you want me to—”

“No! No, just, you know. Just asking.” Morty interjected. 

Rick shrugged. “We had some bi–uuurp—g, big adventures last month, y’know? Your mom and dad– I mean, you probably need to catch up on your dumb homework or whatever so they’re not on my ass about that.”

“Ri– Right, yeah, okay.” Morty’s eyes narrowed. He looked around suspiciously, waiting for alien goo to squirt out of the cracks or to take one wrong step and be trapped by overcomplicated technology and for Rick to laugh at the end of it all and say, are you stupid, Morty? You really think you’re getting away? Adventure time, babyyy!

But Rick just turned back to his circuit board without another word. Morty hesitantly made his way out, walking backwards to keep an eye on Rick. As if sensing bullshit, Rick glared over his shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing? J– Just– Would you just leave if you want to leave? And shut the door properly this time!”

Morty hustled out of the garage and slammed the door shut. You passed through the kitchen at the same time. 

“Hey, Morty.” Your brows knitted as you took in his bewildered expression. “You okay?”

“Y– Yeah, uh– you notice anything different with Rick? He’s been… he hasn’t wanted me to go on an adventure in, like, weeks.” Morty explained, walking up to the kitchen counter. 

“Oh! Um…” You ducked behind the fridge door and grabbed a can of pop. “Maybe he’s otherwise occupied?”

“Uh-huh, sure. Li– Like Rick would ever be happy with just being occu– with—” Morty clicked his tongue. “You get what I mean! He’s never occupied!” 

You bit back a smile, popping the can open. “Maybe he found a good pastime, then.”

“What’cha talking about?” Summer chirped from behind you. You jumped in surprise, an opportunity that Summer took advantage of; she plucked the can from your hands and took it as her own. “Hey, did you and Rick stop beefing?”

“Yeah, we came to an understanding.” You gave her a look, smile growing. “Thanks to your meddling, of course.”

Summer grinned and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “What can I say? I’m basically a therapist. You’re totally glowing, by the way.”

“I don’t know about that,” you giggled, getting yourself another can of pop and sliding one over to Morty. 

He pouted as he fiddled with the pull tab. “It’s just weird.”

“Maybe, but it’s not like you like going on adventures with Rick, anyway.” You asked, eyes widening when Morty’s expression turned sheepish. “You do? After all your complaining—”

“H– Hey, I complain for good reason, okay? He’s– Rick’s fucking insane!” Morty protested desperately, pointing a finger over at you. 

“Wha–uuurp— What’s all this commotion?” Rick emerged from the garage. He put his hands in his lab coat pockets. “I can hear your dumb squeaky voice over my chainsaw.”

“Someone’s missing adventures with grandpa…” Summer sang teasingly. Morty stood up on the stool and held his soda over his head, threatening to throw it at her. “Morty, getting defensive is just proving my point.”

“Well, well, well, look how the tables tu—uuurp— look how the tables turned.” Rick rubbed his hands together. “Glad you’re finally in on the program, Morty. I gotta bunch of stuff I’ve been putting off, since, you know…” His eyes met yours. “It’s important to get your rest in.”

“You know, that’s– that’s really nice of you, Rick.” Morty smiled up at him. “But—”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s head out. Fuck school and fuck your homework! You don’t need ‘em anyways.” Rick dragged Morty off the stool and into the garage. Summer’s shoulders drooped; she could tease all she wanted, but she wanted to go on adventures with grandpa just as bad, a wish that often went unfulfilled. 

You cleared your throat, making Rick pause in his tracks. He held your gaze as you subtly glanced at Summer. He groaned and threw his head back, glaring up at the ceiling. After a moment, he pushed Morty through the garage door and held it open. “You coming, Summer?”

Summer quite literally brightened up. A precious grin bloomed over her face. “Really? What are we gonna do? Raid something? Blow something up? Raid something and blow something up?”

“We’re gonna watch a movie.” Rick deadpanned.

“Oh. Fun.” Summer followed her brother into the garage, who was busy informing her about the Ball Fondlers franchise and the premise of the newest movie. 

Rick watched them load into his ship, closing the garage door enough to hide the two of you from their sight. “I don’t do adventures with—”

“You do now.” You said gently, crossing the room to his side and pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

“No—uuurp– promises.” Rick grumbled and stormed into the garage. You heard the ship take off not a minute later. 

You smiled to yourself, turning around. Your heart dropped to your ass when you were met with Beth’s shocked face. When the fuck did she enter the room? Heat blossomed over your cheeks as you realized what she must’ve seen. “Oh! Uh... Beth, I—”

“No! It’s okay. It’s your business.” She swiped a wine bottle from the cabinet and swiftly turned around. 

You wilted, feeling awkward. “Beth, let me explain—”

“No need! You’re both grown adults!” She cut you off hurriedly, disappearing upstairs. 

Shit. A heavy, unsolved weight settled on you, exacerbated by how awkward you felt. You might be Rick’s girl, but Beth was his daughter, first. You could only imagine how she felt. Not that she gave you an opportunity to answer the questions she undoubtedly had.

You glanced down at your unopened soda can. You were going to need something stronger.

[ ]

The Citadel might as well have not happened. If you weren’t in Rick’s space, he was in yours. If you weren’t touching him, he was touching you. If you weren’t talking, he was rambling on and on about a scientific theory you couldn’t bother to remember the name of, checking in every other minute like, you listening, honey? Pay attention, this is where– this is the good part. You’re a smart girl, here’s– how about you say it back to me? One piece of clothing off for everything you get wrong. Sound fun?

The family was a little freaked out by the shift in Rick’s demeanor, walking on eggshells as if any moment he might turn back into the drunk asshole they knew him to be. Even Jerry got through a half-assed conversation with him without being the butt of a joke. He was still a bitch and an asshole, but he was also sweet, sometimes. He’d taken Summer and Morty out for a movie and ice cream with no ulterior motive other than to hang out. His adventures didn’t always serve him, now; every now and then, he allowed himself to just have fun with his grandkids. 

If he wanted any rest at all, he’d find himself in your bed. He was gentle with you, a real sweet-talker. You give him what he wanted—to feel wanted, needed, like he’s earned you, because he had. Though he’d never put a name to it, he likes how he feels when he’s with you. He… liked you.

“You’re breathing weird.” Rick said drowsily. 

Your eyes peeled open. It had to be 7AM or something, and your body made sure you knew how much it didn’t agree with the time when you sat up and stretched. Rick’s arm was still tucked under the pudge of your stomach, holding fast onto your hip. 

“Beth knows.” You sighed. 

“So?”

“So? Your daughter, who’s older than me, knows that we’re… And you said you brought me in out of the goodness of your heart— I mean nobody believed you, but you still said it.” You glared down at his peaceful face. “Don’t you think that’s weird to her?”

“I’ll start being considerate of her feelings when she gives up her deplorable taste in men.” Rick said. 

You swung your legs off the bed and got dressed. You collected Rick’s clothes off the floor and tossed them on top of him. “Change.”

Rick groaned, batting his clothes aside. “I don’t have any empathy to care when you freak out about things I don’t give a shit about.”

“All the people I’ve been with and I’ve never had this problem… I guess it’s ‘cause I’ve never cared about their stupid families.” You mused to yourself. 

“We–uuurp—ll, get used to it, sweetie. I dunno why you’d choose those sorry shits to care about, but I’m defintely not one to talk,” he sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. “Ho– Hold on, wait— Who else? Why’d you– why’d you– why say it like you have a whole list? You know I get pissed when you bring other people up. Not ‘cause I care, just… you know. Why?”

“Shut up and let’s go get breakfast. Wait— actually, you go first then I’ll come after.” You fixed your face in your mirror. 

“Stop it,” Rick stood and came up behind you. “This isn’t fucking high school, and I’m– I’m– I’m not hiding from anyone. Have you seen their marriage? They’re the last people you should be concerned about. And Beth knows daddy’s got game. It just so happens that it’s in her face this time. No biggie.” 

Your eyes followed him in the mirror’s reflection. “No biggie? It freaks me out! I feel like she’s thinking of ways to kill me or– or something violent whenever she looks at me.” 

Rick snorted, shaking his head once. “You’re probably not wrong.”

You whirled on him, dead serious. “Rick.” 

He laughed at your fearful expression. “Kidding, sweetheart, m’kidding. Seriously, forget about them.”

“But—”

“Forget about them. Just– Say, ‘yes, Rick, I’ll stop caring about stupid shit.’ Here, le— lemme help you,” Rick took your chin between his fingers and forced you to nod. Your eyes tracked him as your head bobbed up and down, watching his coy smile grow in real time. “Was that so hard?” He crooned and squished your cheeks together, pulling you closer by your face; your hands flew to his wrists to stabilize your stumble. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your puckered lips, during which his hands dropped to your jaw, grip unyielding. You abandoned your worries as you pulled him closer.

Making out with Rick had to be one of your favorite things. It was better than any drink or drug, and yet you always felt high after he had his way with you. There was something so intimate about getting off on each other’s bodies before anything came off; panting into each other’s mouth, kissing until it became all teeth and tongue, and grinding and humping like fucking teenagers until the desire became unbearable, and there was no other conclusion than to rip each other’s clothes off and get that much closer. 

His hands always wandered—you weren’t sure there was an inch of your body he hadn’t touched or squeezed—and always found a way to contort you into the most vulnerable positions. He liked having you on display for him, and kissing you until you went dumb let him see you in his favorite state: writhing, breathless, and whiny. 

Rick’s hand slid down your back to grip the underside of your thighs, lifting you up so he could fall back onto the couch with you in his lap. You were learning that was his favorite place to have you. His adjusted his hips to support you more comfortably, spreading his legs so you can sink closer to his—

“Hey, I don’t know if you heard, but breakfast is ready.” Beth knocked and immediately barged in without waiting for an answer. “Oh.”

You practically launched yourself off Rick, backing away and tripping onto the bed in the process. You cleared your throat and offered a loopy smile. “Hi– um… Morning, Beth.” 

Beth stood idle in the doorway, gripping the doorknob a touch too tight to be normal. Her eyes swung between you and her father in blatant distaste. 

Rick’s half-lidded eyes communicated his frustration, throwing his head back against the couch in defeat. “Wh– What? Did I forget to teach you to wait after you knock?”

You swore you saw Beth’s eyes twitch. “Fuck you, dad. It’s my house. Breakfast. Now.”  She slammed the door shut behind her. 

You buried your face in your hands. “She hates me.”

“Maybe.” Rick rose to his feet. “Better keep those pretty eyes peeled. Y– You’ll never know when she’ll take you out for good.”

You searched his expression for any indication of him being serious, and you thought you found one or two until his eyes creased. You whacked his shoulder as you passed him. “Jerk.”

Leave it to the Smiths to arrive at vampires for casual breakfast conversation. 

“Grandpa Rick, couldn't you, like, use your superknowledge to turn yourself into a teenager and come to our school and help us hunt the vampire down?” Summer asked hopefully. 

You smiled encouragingly at her, doing everything in your power to avoid looking at Beth. Sitting beside Rick had never felt like a big problem until today. 

“Um— wow.” Morty scoffed. 

“Yeah, pretty specific pitch, Summer. I probably could turn myself into a teenager and hang out in the zit-covered, hormone-addled, low-stakes assworld that is high school. But here's my reverse-ask—” Rick leaned forward. “Why in the fuck would I ever do that, ever? And how dare you even ask me that? And why aren't you more ashamed of yourself?”

Summer frowned and looked at Jerry. “Dad?”

“Be ashamed of yourself, sweetie.” Jerry didn’t look up from his tablet, a content smile on his face. 

“Ignore your grandpa, Summer. He gets cranky when he hasn’t had his bottle,” You said in an effort to save her feelings.

“Or when I get cockblocked.” Rick muttered under his breath, to your horror. 

“When y– when you get what? Huh?” Morty spluttered. Rick waved him off and you breathed a subtle sigh of relief. 

Beth came around the corner, affronted. “Jerry! I can’t believe you just said that to our daughter!”

“Huh? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention!” Jerry set down his tablet, only now taking in the baffled expressions from those around him. 

“To a conversation about vampires?” Beth countered suspiciously, her tone itself a challenge. She sat down across from him.

“Clearly, I didn't know it was about vampires because I wasn't paying attention. Which you would know if you ever paid attention to me!” 

“Oh, here we go, right to the victim role.” Beth laughed dismissively, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. 

You and Rick exchanged a look. You exhaled softly, massaging your temples. 

“Did you have something to say, slut?” Beth snapped at you, eyes wild.

“Woah.” You physically reacted, eyes widening in shock. 

“Beth, uncalled for.” Rick said, unimpressed, which only seemed to piss her off more. 

“Yeah, mom, just– just ‘cause she worked at a strip club doesn’t mean she’s a slut! That’s– that’s not very– you know, that’s some kind of wrong!” Morty defended you valiantly. 

“Slut-shaming,” Summer helped him out. Morty nodded behind her. “You’re totally being a bitch right now. Stereotyping is so not cool.”

“See? Am I a victim, Beth, or am I married to a mean, unfair monster that always hurts everyone?” Jerry asked triumphantly. 

Beth let out a barely subdued scream of frustration. Rick gritted his teeth and slammed his fists on the table. “For fuck’s sake! Will you fix your marriage or get a divorce already?!” 

Silence reigned over the dining table. Jerry and Beth looked at each other sheepishly. 

“We tried a couples' therapist.” Jerry began. 

“That's Earth therapy. You might as well ask a horse to fix a merry-go-round. I mean, he'll try his best, but mostly, he's just gonna get horrified. I know about a place off-planet with a 100% success rate.” Rick pointed his fork between the two of them. 

“Well…” Beth tapped her fingers against the table. “We want to make it work, if we can. It's just—”

“Then it's settled. No need to pack.” Rick reached over and grabbed Beth’s arm, dragging her around the table. He grabbed Jerry with his free hand, dragging them both out the room. “Let's go, go, go, go!”

You, Summer, and Morty barely had time to react. The garage door opened and closed, Rick’s ship booting up and taking off minutes later. You rubbed the back of your neck, turning the last interaction you had with Beth over in your mind. 

“Do you think Mom and Dad are– you know. Do you think they’re gonna get a divorce?” Morty asked his sister.

Summer pushed away from the table and stood. “I think it's okay to dream, Morty. Anyway, I'm gonna go make some wooden stakes.” 

Morty sighed, playing with the food on his plate absentmindedly. “You– You’re okay, right?”

“Don’t worry about me, Morty.” You finished your breakfast. You ruffled Morty’s head when you passed by to clear the table. 

You dropped the kids to school in their parents’ absence. Rick came back half an hour later, unwilling to explain where Beth and Jerry were. He looked seriously drained. You were washing some dishes when he wandered into the kitchen. 

“See what I mean?” You tossed him a look over your shoulder. He leaned back against the counter, watching you. “Beth’s territorial. I bet she’d give up Jerry if it meant keeping you.”

“Which means nothing.” Rick unscrewed his flask and gulped half of it down.

“Which means a lot, because those two don’t know how to live without each other.” You shot back. You hung the last dish to dry and wiped your hands on the random apron you found, turning off the tap. You turned to face Rick, who was, of course, already staring you down. “You’re just that important.”

“Ugh, I’d have stayed over there if I– if– if– if I wanted therapy. Which I don’t want, ever, just– just to be clear.” Rick pocketed his flask. “En– Enough about them. We got interrupted.”

You pulled the apron off and hung it up. “I’m freaked out, and not in the good way.”

He grinned. “I can fix that.” 

You giggled and held him back at an arm’s length. “I’m just gonna be thinking about your daughter.”

Rick disengaged from you entirely. “Gross.”

“Yeah, exactly. Until you fix that, Summer’s offer stands.” You turned on your heel and retreated to your room. 

You assumed he went to sulk in his garage. Hours passed and you muddied your worries with constant noise, flipping between TV shows, TikTok, Youtube, etc, etc. Whatever therapy place Rick dropped them off should address whatever Beth had going on, right? You figured your optimism would be punished soon enough. 

The time came around to pick the kids up, but even that distraction was stolen from you. Stepping out of your room to a party with adolescent drug-seeking high school students was not remotely on your radar. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything like the not-party you had while Beth and Jerry were away months back—there weren’t as many people, a reasonable amount of snacks and punch that you hoped wasn’t spiked. 

You made your way to the living room where everyone was gathered only to see a miniature version of Rick strumming a guitar and singing about being old and dying. As if the red flags raised in your mind were telepathically communicated to Summer, she passed you an awkward look. 

She left her date to pull you aside. “Did you hear the song?” 

“Yes, but—” You glanced over at Tiny Rick. “What’s going on with him? Why does he—?”

“He put his brain in a teenager clone and I think he’s, like, all sad and angsty. Like, ‘help me, I’m going to die?’ That’s a clear sign if I’ve ever seen one.” Summer frowned.

You blinked. “I… I can try to convince him to get back in his proper body.”

“No, it’s okay. This is on me. I think I can get through to him, teenager to teenager.” Summer puffed up her chest slightly. You could see the gears turning in her head already, and you knew better than to stop that train once it started. 

“Yeah, you go save your grandpa.” You said. Summer smiled and approached the party. You followed her, eyes lingering over Tiny Rick. Apparently he needs it.

[ ]

The following day was relatively quiet with the kids occupied with Tiny Rick. You wandered into his garage to visit the Rick you knew. He was suspended in a vat of blue fluid, hair waving left and right as he swayed. 

He’d never let you fiddle with his work stuff if he was around. You took the opportunity to pull out your box and reconnect with all the things he made for you. You smiled once you pulled out the manicure machine, brushing your thumb over the blue and pink heart detailing he built into the exterior. You sat in his chair and activated, giving your nails a much needed refresh. They were shaped, blue, and glossy within minutes. 

You were about to pull out more stuff when the garage door burst open. You spun around to see Tiny Rick panting heavily. He stormed inside and picked an axe up from the shelf. 

“Rick, what are you doing…?” You asked nervously.

“Tiny Rick. It’s Tiny Rick!” He yelled, enraged. Tiny Rick’s glare refocused on Rick’s real body. “Say goodnight, old man.” He roared as he charged towards the vat, axe primed and ready to make a killing blow. 

“Stop, wait!” You screamed and ran between him and the vat. 

Tiny Rick stumbled to a halt, chest heaving. He pointed at you with the axe angrily. “Would you— would you get the fuck out of the way?! I’m not here for you!” 

“You’re not killing Rick, Tiny Rick.” You said sternly, crossing your arms. 

“What’s– You’re young! He’s old and so, so close to death! You’re gonna die too one day, you don’t think– never crosses your mind what’ll happen if he kicks the bucket before you?” 

“Yeah, well—” You glanced to the side, scrambling for a retort. “I don’t think Rick’s capable of dying. And I like him old.”

“I didn’t want it to come for this,” he said solemnly, “because some part of me loves you—”

You were startled out of your vigilance. “Wait.” 

“—but I don’t give a fuck about that old man’s feeling right now! I’ll never go– I’m never going back! And if you wanna stand with him so bad, you can die with him!” He let out a battle cry and lunged at you, axe ready to hack one of your limbs off. 

You ducked and used his momentum to throw him to the other side of the garage. He crashed through a few vials and boxes before he was back on his feet again with murderous intent. On his second run, the kids burst through the door and tackled him to the ground. Morty held him down as Summer kicked away his axe. 

“Summer, you bitch!” Tiny Rick fervently wrestled against Morty, breaking free and stepping back from the three of you. 

“Don't talk to her that way! She's your granddaughter!” Morty exclaimed, balling his fists at his side. 

“I don't need a granddaughter!”

“She's my sister! And if Tiny Rick is gonna be an asshole to my sister, then, you know, y— y— you may as well be old again.”

“You think you're tough, huh, Morty? What are you gonna do?” Tiny Rick provoked Morty, pushing his shoulders in challenge. “I'm Tiny Rick. I'm the coolest kid in your school. How are you gonna just make me do whatever you say, huh?”

Morty took a few deep breaths to build up his courage before squaring up. “I'm gonna do what real Rick would do if he was here— I'm gonna kick your ass!” He launched himself at Tiny Rick, climbing on his back and putting him in a headlock. “Rick, I know you're in there! I know you're trying to get out!”

They both grunted as Morty flattened Tiny Rick to the garage floor. 

“That's it, Morty! Hold him down!” Summer knelt in front of him and pushed earbuds into Tiny Rick’s ears, blasting Elliot Smith. You stood there dumbly, incapacitated by the absurdity of it all as Tiny Rick came around. 

“Morty, Summer! It’s me, Rick!” Tiny Rick—or rather, regular Rick—said. 

“H– How do we get you back into your body?” Morty said urgently, getting off of Rick. 

Rick propped himself up on all fours, tears falling down his cheeks. Your interest was piqued—you knew he was guarded, but just how much unaddressed trauma and feelings did he keep buried away that one day as a teenager and some indie folk music was enough to bring him to this state of disarray?

“Okay, listen carefully. There's a set of diodes on the vat's control panel, a blue one and a red one.” He sniffled. “What kind of world is this? I didn't ask to be born. I need you to connect the blue one to my left temple and the red one to why doesn't anyone really like me?”

Your lips pulled into a frown as Summer scolded him. “Focus, grandpa!”

“Just– Just put the stupid wires on my head! I hate being a teenager!” Rick yelled hoarsely. Summer ran around the garage to get the things Rick said he needed, attaching the wires to either side of his temple. The machine hummed as it powered up and the three of you looked expectantly at the real Rick in the vat. With a sharp buzz, the vat broke and Rick dropped to his knees. 

“Ugh,” He groaned, weakly propping himself up. Morty came to his side to help him to his feet. 

“Pants!” Summer screamed and averted her eyes. 

“Thanks, kids. You figured it out. Well– Summer did.” Rick dislodged himself from Morty’s side and put his hands on his hips, glaring down at him. “Kind of weird that you were that willing to sell my existence out for some trim, Morty.”

“Pants!” Summer yelled again, to no success. 

You laughed softly, a stupid smile lingering on your face. Yeah. You guess you did love this family. 

“But listen, I forgive you both because you know what? I learned something important today… The teenage mind is its own worst enemy. Oh, I also learned this.” Rick pulled a lever, grabbing the discarded axe and hefting it over his shoulder. The room lowered deeper into the ground like an elevator, revealing a completely different setting. Vats of Ricks of all ages were lined up before you. “Operation Phoenix is not the fallback I thought it would be. I guess it's back to the drawing board.”

Rick’s grin was manic as he swung his axe through each, butchering his clones into eyes and limbs, until the floor was soaked with blood. You didn’t know what to think when his violent display made you feel something, especially since his grandkids were shrieking in fear beside you. 

“Grandpa's back, baby!” Rick fell to his knees, soaking his arms and chest with blood as he brought his axe down on the last of Operation Phoenix. A crazed laugh accompanied the shiiinnggg of his axe. “Grandpa's—” He paused in his tracks when his phone rang. He checked his notifications, uncaring of the blood smearing his device. “Oh, man, I gotta pick up your parents. They have been blowin' me up.”

He stood and gripped his axe with both hands. “One last swing for the road!” He cut a leg in half, amused by his grandkids’ shrill, terrified cries. His eyes locked with yours as he walked back over to you three, dropping the axe. “C’mere, baby,” he cupped your face and kissed you, slanting his mouth hungrily against yours. “Fuck, I missed you.”

He didn’t care that Morty and Summer were appalled onlookers, and honestly, neither did you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, freshly done nails digging into his bare skin. He moaned against your mouth and backed you into the workbench behind you, sweeping the contents onto the floor and pinning you against its surface. 

“Wh– What the fuck, Rick?” Morty gasped. “When the heck did you guys— Is this what you've been doing all month?”

Rick laughed. “Y- Yeah, Morty, got the sweetest little hobby these days.”

“Gross! Holy shit, grandpa, get a fucking room!” Summer stomped her foot, frustrated by the lack of decorum and lack of clothing. 

“This is basically my room, kids, take a hike. Gotta– you got two days outta me. I got shit to take care of,” Rick pressed a button and a stairwell appeared out of the wall. He watched them grumble and complain as they climbed out of the sublevel. He brought your leg over his hip, grinning down at you. 

“What?” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but you were too enamored to care. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your neck. “Being a teenager is the worst. So sad and angry all the time, ‘nd so, so horny, baby, s’the worst.”

“Rick, I—” Your breath stuttered when his hands snaked under your shirt and unclasped your bra. “I like you. You know that, right?”

He gave you an odd look. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay.” You hummed, another concern stopping you from fully relaxing. “You need to pick up Beth and Jerry.”

“They can wait.” He said matter-of-factly.

You grabbed his shoulders to shake some sense into him. “They’re gonna be waiting hours before I’m done with you. You go get them and come back. No interruptions?”

“No interruptions.” Rick agreed immediately. He pulled the lever and brought you both back up to the main garage. He swiped his pants and hopped in his ship, blasting off faster than you’d ever seen him fly. 

You peeled yourself off the workbench, waddling over to the bathroom and being so, so thankful that Summer and Morty were nowhere to be seen. At this rate, you didn’t know how you’d be able to face anyone in this house. 

“Morty, what the fuck are you doing in my room…?” Summer didn’t need to open her eyes to know it was her brother. She shoved him back and turned over. 

“You need– Summer, wake up.”

“I am up.” She groaned. “Ugh, I hate you. It’s like 2AM.”

“You need to ask Rick to go on a– a– on an adventure tomorrow. Okay? And you have to get you-know-who to come along too,” Morty explained. 

“Morty, nobody is awake enough to hear you whispering right now. You can say her name.”

“Sh– You shut up, Summer! J– Just do it, okay? She won’t go on— If it’s just a regular Rick and Morty adventure, she won’t come and Rick won’t just let her tag along, either, so we need to force it.”

Summer propped herself up on her elbow and rubbed her eyes. “All I’m hearing is I get to go on an adventure with grandpa and play matchmaker. I’m in.”

[ ]

That’s how you found yourself in Rick’s UFO. The only other time you’d been inside was when he picked you up from The Lounge and brought you to the house the first time—almost a year ago. The real reason why was unknown to you, of course. The kids weren’t forthcoming about their intentions. 

You sat in the backseat with Morty as a hippie song played on the radio. Though you and Rick had definitely jumped over the biggest problem strangling your complex dynamic, uncertainty still lingered between you. The hate didn’t magically disappear—the remnants of it still boiled within you, watered down into a sustained sense of betrayal. 

He drew you in and drove you away all at once. Your head and heart were at war with each other. On one hand, he was a walking red flag that you knew you couldn’t rely on. On the other, you and him just… fit.

You didn’t know if things could be like they were in the past, and that’s what deterred you the most. He proved to be irresponsible with your trust. You had nothing left to give him. 

It was as if your conversation in uncertainty never happened. You and Rick hadn’t followed up with each other after it, but when he saw you in the living room, he’d stick around. If he used the dining table as an impromptu workspace, you’d ask him about what he was doing. 

Polite. It was all so painfully polite. Sterile. Like two opposite ends of a magnet that drew close but never snapped together. 

A beep broke you out of your thoughts. “Oh yeah, distress beacon!” Rick cheered, bringing the coordinates up.

“You’re excited about that?” Morty asked. 

“The first rule of space travel, kids—always check out distress beacons. Nine out of ten times it's a ship full of dead aliens and a bunch of free shit!” Rick tossed a grin over his shoulder and sped up, bolting through space to the marked location on his GPS.

The ship sending out the distress signal was completely wrecked. It didn’t have many things on board—all systems were dark, the walls were dark and ashy, like a gunfight had transpired. If the condition of the cabin was any indication, you were walking amongst the losing team. Not much treasure to loot, but Rick still drew a symbol that would get the authorities off his trail. 

A door opened behind you. You all spun around in shock, a half dozen blue aliens rushing out with relieved smiles, clothed in two-toned green space suits. Yellow-tipped antennae portruded from their heads, framing their faces like a crown. 

Rick quickly hid his spray can behind his back. “Oh! You’re alive! That’s… great.”

“Can you help us?” The only woman asked hurriedly. “Our planet was taken over by some kind of… some kind of entity! It absorbed the minds of our people!”

Oh…. Yeah, that didn’t sound like something you wanted to deal with. You stepped back behind Rick, the picture of nonchalance as usual, and the kids retreated behind you. His arms crossed as he listened to their case. 

“We didn't notice until it was too late. The people it takes over, they look like your friends, your family, your leaders, but they're not… themselves any more. They're part of it.” One of the men explained.

“And how do you know it didn't get on the ship with you? Those two ding-dongs seem pretty calm about the whole thing.” Rick pointed to two of the aliens hanging around in the background. 

You all stared at them for a moment. They blinked slowly, sweat beading on their foreheads. With a scream, they pounced on their friends, yanking their heads back and throwing up into their mouths. 

Summer exclaimed in disgust and hopped back against the wall. You turned your eyes away and took a deep breath to suppress the building nausea. You finally peeked when the screaming and commotion stopped. Confusion settled into your features when you saw them all standing the exact same way with the exact same expression on their faces. 

“Hello, Rick. Long time no see.” They said in unison. 

Your nose scrunched at their tone. It sounded coy, sweet, and knowing, like there was history.

“Unity?” Rick’s jaw dropped. 

Your face remained tense. You rarely saw Rick caught off guard—in fact, you’ve never seen him so surprised.

Rick scratched the back of his neck nervously. The action alone piqued your interest further—Rick? Nervous? “Uh, these are my grandkids, Summer and Morty. Summer, Morty, this is, uh— this is Unity. We sort of used to… date.”

Oh.

Your gaze collided with Rick’s, both of your expressions unreadable. 

The ride down to the planet was mostly silent, save for Rick and Unity’s quiet conversation. He didn’t seem very relaxed. You wondered if they ended on good terms. Did it break up with him? Or did he break up with it? How long ago did this happen?

Summer looked around at the zombified individuals around her, her distaste palpable. 

“You okay?” You whispered. 

She huffed. “No. This was supposed to be our trip with grandpa. This body-stealing bitch is—”

“Woah, woah,” you laughed softly, missing Rick’s glimpse over his shoulder at you. “They seem to be on good terms.” 

“They’re not supposed to be. This makes it so much harder to—” She cut herself off when Morty glared over at her urgently. “Whatever. Who’s on good terms with their ex, anyway?”

The ship landed on the planet, a platform extending from the blast doors soon after. Rick was the first to disembark. “Quite an operation you got here, Une. You're a whole planet now huh?”

Civilians spoke up one by one as you passed them. “After we broke up, I spent some time wandering through space. I found this world, where I was better able to focus on my passion for unification.”

You stopped before a woman who looked like the leader of the collective, clothed in a purple suit jacket and black skirt. This form was blue like all the rest, its skin tone bringing out the purple in its hair. 

“You mean stealing peoples’ bodies?” Summer snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Summer, rude.” Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why don't you kids run off and play with Unity while Unity and I do some catching up.”

“Rick, you haven’t introduced me to this one,” Unity in its presidential form approached you with a smile. 

Rick’s eyes went wide. “Oh, uh– yeah. That’s… She’s my—”

“Babysitter.” You answered on his behalf with a tight-lipped smile. You were regretting coming along on this adventure with each passing second, a sentiment the kids seemed to share if their unimpressed expressions were any indication. 

“Oh! Well, you don’t have to do that while you’re here. You’re a guest! I’ll keep the kids safe, out of trouble… you know. Occupied!” Unity beamed, glancing over your faces for any signs of rejection. When it found none, four aliens came up to Summer and Morty. 

“W– Wait! Rick, aren't these people going to barf into our mouths and absorb us?” Morty cowered behind you to avoid the aliens coming to take them away. 

Unity chuckled and put its hands on its hips. “You're all guests here on my planet. You're free to be yourselves. I've never been good at… disappointing Rick.”

There was that tone again. Your eyes flickered between it and Rick, heat bubbling low and deep within you. You felt silly for feeling that way, and you weren’t even sure what way you felt.

Summer and Morty’s shared look went unnoticed, both of them internally panicking, their plan now out of their control. Summer put a hand on your shoulder, clearly aware of your discomfort. “Um, grandpa Rick, I think we should go—”

“It’s okay, Summer. You kids should go and explore.” You swallowed whatever you were feeling, avoiding Rick’s attentive eyes like the plague. 

Unity’s bright expression faltered. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly. You’d been so excited to explore outer space, once. “No, no. I’d love a… a tour, maybe? If—”

“Yes!” Unity chirped, clapping its hands together. “I would love to show you all around. In fact, I have a person just for that!” 

A female tour guide emerged from the crowd and greeted you and the kids, pulling you all away from Rick. A little peace and quiet was just what you needed. 

Morty and Summer chose to rest on top and watch their faces get carved into a mountain. Rick may not have played a big part in their upbringing, but his vanity seemed to be genetic. 

You split from them to wander around the spotless streets. The tour guide was silent, as if operating on autopilot, but to be fair, there wasn’t much to look at. The planet was perfect… too perfect. 

The tour guide buffered for a moment before life was breathed back into her. “How did you come to know Rick?” 

“Uh…” You said dumbly, not expecting any dialogue between you and Tour Guide Unity. “I care for his grandkids.”

Unity’s eyes lowered, a bashful smile spreading on its lips, like you’d confirmed something it knew about him. “He said he changed. I want to believe him, but… can you tell me? How he’s been?”

The hope in its eyes deepened the pit in your stomach. A month ago, you’d have used this opportunity to ruin something Rick clearly treasured, to hurt him the way he hurt you. But you found you were devoid of that desire. “He’s… Rick’s fun. He’s a fun guy, takes his grandkids on all sorts of adventures, especially Morty. He can be rough and mean sometimes, but he tries.”

“Yeah?” Unity brightened. 

“Yeah.” You inhaled sharply. These conflicting emotions were eating you alive, and having to see Unity and Rick together was not helping. “You know where Rick’s at? I think I’m ready to get back home.”

The tour guide’s shoulders fell slightly. “What, already? Are you uncomfortable? We can find somewhere to get you off your feet, if you want.” 

You smiled apologetically. “Your planet is great, Unity, don’t take this the wrong way. I haven’t been feeling the best lately and was kinda dragged out here, so… I just want to get back.”

“Well…” Unity nodded slowly, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Rick’s, uh… He’s— we’re—”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, but you maintained your unbothered expression. You held up a hand to stop its attempt to stall. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, I just need his portal gun.”

Unity hesitantly led you to a giant arena. Massive cheers billowed over its high walls, all chanting, Rick! Rick! Rick! You doubled down on your earlier assumption. 

By the time you reached the entrance to the stadium, hundreds of assimilated filtered out. They were dressed as any casual civilian was but they were undeniably high out of their minds. They stumbled around, throwing up and tweaking out on the gravel. 

“What happened here?” You mumbled, stepping over an unconscious man. 

“Hard party, hard drugs. The usual with Rick,” the tour guide said. 

Rick used two assimilated as crutches to stumble out of the stadium. He was wearing a sombrero of all things, and somehow in the past few hours, grew a mustache so long it curled at the ends. 

“What’re you doing here?” Rick waddled over to you and no less toppled over into your arms. You pushed him upright, getting bumped by his wide sombrero in the process. He smelled like booze and drugs, but then again, when did he not?

Waves of memories of slumming it in his garage late at night came rushing back. You took a step away from him and cleared your throat. “I just came for your portal gun. I wanna go home.” 

“No. You’re staying.” His nose scrunched in distaste. 

“No, I’m going.” You mentally prepared yourself for the rings you’d have to jump through to get him focused enough to do this for you. “Rick?”

His eyes lifted past you as a ship descended behind you. Identical humanoid men descended the ramp, cloaked up in dark capes. 

“That’s Beta-Seven, a neighboring hivemind. Our planets maintain a practical relationship to exchange vital resources, so be nice,” Unity pulled Rick in line. He reluctantly straightened up. 

“Unity,” Beta-Seven smiled. Its eyes narrowed as it swept over you and Rick. “Is it a bad time? Are all present lifeforms assimilated?”

“Beta-Seven, these are my single-minded guests, Rick and his grandkids’ babysitter.” Unity explained with a polite smile. You forgot that’s what you labeled yourself as. Hearing it said back to you made your blood boil. 

Beta-Seven’s demeanor changed entirely. His half-hearted attempt to maintain the polite introduction didn’t go unnoticed. Your little walk allowed you the time to realize that it wasn’t jealousy you were feeling—you didn’t have Rick to fear losing him. He wasn’t yours at all, though somewhere along the line you’d believed that was the case. It was envy for the closeness and understanding that he had with Unity. The same envy you knew Beta-Seven was feeling for Rick, because of Unity. 

Rick and Unity were deep in a conversation about some complex crystal compound. Beta-Seven’s lips were furrowed in a deep pout. Is that what you looked like when you first understood what was going on? 

“Hey,” you approached him. You desperately needed a distraction. “What’s your planet like?”

It took Beta-Seven a moment to tear his focus from Unity. “Perfect. Identical lifeforms all working in perfect harmony. Very efficient.”

You hummed, nodding to the pod he came in. “Do you have little ships with Beta-Sevens locked and loaded to drop to deliver messages?”

It cracked a smile. “Maybe. Do you want to see how it works? How, uh… how my ship works? I can tell you now, my weapons systems are something to write home about.”

“You’d let me see? I’m not really looking to be assimilated.” You crossed your arms playfully. 

“I suppose I can make an exception in this case.” It put a hand on your back and guided you closer to his ship. The dozens of Beta-Sevens parted around you to clear a path, all looking over at Unity. It wasn’t hiding its true motives, but you didn’t care. 

“Woah, hey,” Rick yanked you back. He spun you behind him and jabbed a finger at Beta-Seven. “Y– You can invade this planet all you like, buddy, but me and my people— we– we’re not up for grabs.”

“No?” Beta-Seven challenged all-too-gleefully. 

“No.” Suddenly, his portal gun appeared in his hands. He turned to you over his shoulder. “You– you wanted to go home, didn’t you?”

“It’s okay, I think I found something else to pass the time,” you reasoned as you slid past him back to Beta-Seven. “Beta-Seven was gonna show me around its ship and take me through its weapons systems. I think it’ll last ‘til you’ve finished catching up with Unity, and it’d be better to all go home together, anyway.” 

“Weapons systems…?” Rick’s jaw clenched and his glare narrowed. He assessed Beta-Seven’s vessel and barked a laugh. “Please. You’ve seen my weapons systems. Y– You’re not gonna find any others better than mine.”

“She’ll never know until she looks, will she?” Beta-Seven put a hand on your shoulder. 

“...Ri–uuurp—ght.” Rick snapped through gritted teeth. 

“Unity said be nice, remember? Have fun with your drugs.” You waved before taking your leave with Beta-Seven. 

Once the spaceship doors closed behind you, you and Beta-Seven broke away from each other, dropping the act. Its ship was dark, gloomy, and minimalistic. There were no windows, but there were a collection of screens down the hallway, which were the only things providing any sort of light. 

Beta-Seven smiled sympathetically. “Rick Sanchez is yours, isn’t he?”

You put your hands on your hips as you paced. “No. Is Unity yours?”

“No.” It admitted. “I hate feeling this way. I should want to assimalte Unity and its entire planet. I can tell you’re the same—you have the same look I see on my lifeforms when I think about Unity.” 

“That makes two of us.” You mumbled. “Is it always like that? I wouldn’t take Unity for a party animal.”

“It was like that a long time ago. I worry about Unity. It’s made so much progress on its planet. But this single-minded disease shows up and suddenly, it’s missing meetings and making drugs, blowing up cities…” Beta-Seven drew in a slow breath. 

You pursed your lips. “You’d probably be better off not worrying about Unity. You’d probably be better off running far away. You’d probably expand quicker.”

“I know.” Beta-Seven shrugged. “But you understand why I won’t.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. You were both trapped by people that were bad for you (you more so than Beta-Seven—Unity seemed pretty nice) and simultaneously trapped by the inescapable feeling of wanting them. “I do.”

[ ]

Rick felt like he was having déjà vu. Being here on Unity’s planet, surrounded by bass-boosted music, smoke, drugs, and alcohol was like the party he had almost seven months ago, and he felt just as stupid and just as empty as he did back then. 

He was going in circles and he was fed up with it. If you thought you were going to outdo him in avoidance or passive agressivity, you were wrong. He more or less spilled his guts out to you and you still weren’t budging. He might have let you set the terms up until now but at this point, he knew they were shit. The fact of the matter was that you were his and he was tired of fighting that. Since when did he play by anyone else’s rules than his own?

Seeing Morty and Summer pissed him off. He had the mind to feel bad, but not the will to act on it. The last thing he needed was them to come at him from their moral high ground, telling him that he should leave Unity be and come home with them. Where did they find the balls to tell him what to do? When did he stop being that untouchable mystical man they blindly obeyed? Was it because he hung out with them intentionally for six months? He made a mental note to never do that again. 

“You and Unity are like... like... leggings and mid-calf boots. You think you're great together but you're just bringing out the worst in each other!” Rick couldn’t be bothered to debunk whatever poorly-conceived comparison Summer had for him. 

“Oh, boy, Summer. Well put. Why don't we see what Unity thinks?” He turned to get an assimilated to back him up, but Summer butt in before he could get the support.

“Fuck what Unity thinks! Respectfully.” Summer crossed her arms. “You should be worried about someone else.”

“Yeah, Rick— uh, there’s someone else that you have a thing with, right? Y– Y– You want to stop all the near-death experiences and, I dunno… set– settle down for a bit?” Morty smiled hopefully. 

“Settle– settle down? What the fuck are you talking about?” Rick threw his bottle to the ground and charged through the shards towards Morty.

“Reeeal subtle, Morty.” Summer rolled her eyes.

“H– hey, I was just tryna help!” 

“Bi—uuurp–g Rick doesn’t need your stupid help,” Rick groaned, turning his grandkids swiftly and putting a portal in front of them. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Just— we all know you guys are beefing!” Summer exclaimed, resisting his push. “But I know she loves you, like we all do, just like you love us. So you need to fix it. Okay, grandpa Rick? That starts with leaving Unity and coming home with us.”

“What? Dumb.” Rick scoffed, even though he paused over the thought that you liked him. “Bye.”

“Ugh,” you fanned the air around you as you entered the room. Rick’s shoulders grew tense. “What’s going on?”

“We were just about to go home.” Summer retorted, taking a couple steps towards the idle portal. “Right grandpa?”

“What were you up to?” Rick asked, completely distracted, much to the kids’ annoyance. “Huh? Beta– fucking Beta-Seven kept you nice and warm?”

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, walking over to Summer and Morty. “Home sounds great.” 

He grabbed your arm and forced you to look him in the eyes. “What’d you do with Beta-Seven?”

“What’d you do with Unity?” You stared back, wrenching your arm from his grip. He didn’t respond, but the air around him was charged, like any wrong move would make him blow. Unity’s assimilated looked concerned, and maybe it realized that Rick hadn’t changed much at all. 

You sighed. “It showed me around and taught me how to use some of the controls. He had some good wine, too—we had some of that. Are you coming home or not?”

No response. Surprise, surprise. 

“Come on, guys. Rick’s got unfinished business to deal with.” You held his gaze until you turned around. 

[ ]

Another three hours passed before Rick made it back home. No sombrero, no mustache, no over-the-top costume. The minute he entered the living room, Beth gave him an ultimatum which he accepted without protest—strike one. Summer asked about Unity, who he condemned so casually, he might as well have not spent the entire day with it—strike two. He didn’t so much as glance at you—strike three. 

“I’ll be in the garage if you need me,” he said. Strike four. Rick would never leave the option open to come into his space. It was always, I’m working on something, if you bother me I’ll strand you somewhere or something to that effect. If you didn’t know any better—and you knew better—he was asking to be checked on, unintentionally or not.

You weren’t sure what could’ve happened since you and the kids left, but Rick was different. Bad different. Knowing Rick was like knowing yourself, and his expression told you that he was done coping. He was tired, for once, of himself. From there, it didn’t take much internal debate to gather up the willpower to follow him. 

You heard chemical reactions unfolding before you even opened the door. The sunset drenched the cool-toned garage into something just shy of welcoming. It’d only been a few weeks since you’d been inside and not much progress was made. In fact, it was in worse condition than ever. 

“Rick?” You closed the door behind you.

He was sitting down when you looked over. He threw a red lightbulb over his shoulder. It shattered a few feet away from you. You tiptoed through the debris. You didn’t even know what you were going to say to him. He just had to sorta redeem himself, didn’t he? Hating him was far easier than…whatever this was. 

A low whirr made you glance up. He lined his head up with some laser—his baby blue hair lost its hue as red light glowed around him. Dread shot through your gut—you assumed the worst and rushed in, pulling his chair back. The laser fired and missed his temple by a few inches. “Holy shit.” 

Rick struggled to hold himself upright. The blank man you saw in the living room was gone, his dead eyes overshadowed by the most sorrowful frown you’ve seen to date. You lowered your voice as you asked, “Rick? Were you going to…?” 

“Why do you care?” He muttered. 

You sucked in a sharp, irritated breath. It was like him to use your line against you. “Were you?” 

“Why do you care?” He tugged himself closer to his desk, away from where you cornered him. He wiped his eyes and swiped at his nose. “You don’t care. Made that pre–uuurp—pretty clear today.”

“I–” You huffed in disbelief. “I don’t want you to die, are you kidding?”

“Did I really fuck up that bad?” He turned in his chair to look up at you, leaning against the backrest with his long legs sprawling across the floor. “Huh? Di– Did I fuck up so bad you felt the need to satisfy yourself with Beta-Seven’s shitty, low-grade, 18th century weapons systems? I– I could make its entire matrix with a box of scraps and a dead fucking battery. I could do that shit in my fucking sleep.”

“I don’t— What? I don’t doubt you could do that.” You whispered. You hadn’t expected your distraction to work so well on him. The absurdity of his jealousy lit a fire within you. 

“So why?!” He yelled, shooting up to his feet, the force of it sending his chair into the desk behind him. You took an involuntary step back as he began to close the distance between you. “I gave you an out. Why would you go off with that piece of shit? To– to– to spite me? To show how you like eeeeverybody except for me? Th– That you’ll tolerate every entity just not the one standing right in front of you? Huh? Is that how we’re playing this?”

“No!” You retorted. “Rick, you saved me but you also gave me up! How the fuck am I supposed to feel?” 

He seethed quietly as he paced around you. “I got even with you. I gave you my collar. What more do you want from me? Do you still hate me?”

You glanced to the side. “No, but… I put all my trust in you and you screwed me over because… I don’t know. You felt a little scared? A little unsure? What’s gonna happen the next time Rick decides I’m not worth his time anymore?” 

“That’s not going to happen.” 

“I can’t trust you, though, can I?”

He let out a ragged, desperate sound, and stepped even closer. Before you could think of avoiding him, his large hands clamped shut around your wrists. His grip wasn’t bruising, but absolute, anchoring you to him. Up close, the heat and intoxicating scent radiated off of him, making him impossible to fight.  “No, no, no, I don’t care if you– if y– if you trust me or not. Let’s— I’m done doing this with you. It’s going back to how it was.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not how it works.”

“It works how I say it works.” With a swift, sweeping motion, Rick collected his chair and fell back into it. He reached out fast enough to yank you closer and pull you into his lap. He swallowed your resistance until you fell limp on top of him, knees tucked to the side. “It was a stupid lapse of judgement ‘nd it’s never gonna happen again.” His hands rested on your hips, squeezing like he was refamiliarizing himself with you once again, and he rested his forehead against your chest. “I fight with everyone else, sweetheart, don’t make me fight with you. I want whatever you have for me, w– wha– whatever we got going on. Give– give it back to me.”

Your heart skipped and heat seared your face. “Rick—” 

“‘Cause– ‘cause— ‘cause I am a different Rick and you are my girl. The sweetest girl in the whole– in the whole galaxy.” He hugged your midsection, pressing his cheek against your skin. Definitely emotional. 

“Okay. You’re drunk or high, or both.” You muttered, peeling his arms off of you. 

“S’the only way I can get– can—uuurp—get through the day without blowing my brains out. Cut me some slack,” Rick gripped you tighter. You steadied yourself with hands to his shoulders. “You think I don’t understand what’s going on in that pretty head of yours? I sabotaged myself. Is that what you want to hear? You sidelined me, but I did that. Happy?”

Your eyes shot up to the ceiling. That is what you wanted to hear. Your walls were thinning by the second, threatening to topple over as your fingers slid up the column of his neck and tangled in the messy strands of blue hair. “What happened with Unity?”

“The usual. Didn’t fuck any of it, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he mumbled, visibly relaxing as you slowly came around. 

Heat picked at your neck. “Woah, I— no, I don’t care about that.”

“Y– You sure?” There was a smile in his voice now. “Saw your face. My– my girl mad at me ‘nd still getting territorial—looks good on you.”

“No, that’s not—” You cut yourself off with a short laugh. “I’m not your girl.”

“This isn’t— It’s not up for discussion,” Rick slurred, head growing heavy as his high caught up to him. “The stupid fight is over. You’re over it, I’m over it. I– I’m putting my foot down. Yeah.” 

You let out a long, slow sigh, the last bits of your anger and bitterness dissolving alongside the sunset. “Rick.”

“Don’t leave.” He mumbled into your skin, barely audible. His fingers clutched the fabric of your clothes before slackening. “You can’t.”

You kept your fingers in his hair, leaning your cheek against his head and hugging him tight. “I’m not leaving,” you reassured him gently. 

Rick paused as he leaned against the counter you were reaching over, as if he hadn’t expected you to respond. “Yeah, you’re clearly no—uuurp—t take– taking care of yourself.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he made sure to enunciate that declaration. “Morty ‘nd Summer kick up a fuss every now and then. They think I made you like this. It– it– it impedes my fun.”

You huffed a wry laugh. “Did you tell them they’re right?”

“No, because they’re not.”

“Sure, you can also blame the curtains in my room for why I can’t sleep.” You rolled your eyes.

He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “C– can you just eat something other than chips and cookies s– s- so they stop bugging me about this dumb shit?”

You didn’t realize Summer and Morty cared about stuff like being healthy considering their lifestyle and habits, but you knew they saw you as another person in their boat; someone that could share the craziness that came with being around Rick. Your bond had become an unspoken alliance, and you were touched that they even cared about you in that way. 

You ignored Rick this time, grabbing a bag of chips anyway and leaving without a second thought. 

He caught your wrist and pulled you back, leering over you with that aloof look he’s known for. “Look, I know you’re throwing your cute little temper tantrum right now, but just ‘cause you decided to hate me doesn’t mean I’m not in charge here.”

“Yeah, sure,” your expression was amused. “I’m young, I’ll tell the kids I’ll survive.”

“Not—uuurp—not good enough, sweetheart.” Rick’s grip tightened around your wrist. “It’d look weird to Beth and Jerry if you were unnaturally weak when they came back, a– and I’m not tryna hear them blame me for— or question me for hours straight for something that’s your fault.”

You held his stare for a moment. “Get me food, then.”

Rick gritted his teeth, head tilting as he considered beig acquiescent to your demand. He let your hand go with a scoff and brushed past you, disappearing around the corner. You heard the sound of a portal manifesting and closing a few seconds later. 

Huh. You hadn’t expected him to be so easily convinced, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, you were pleasantly surprised. If he had gone to get you food, that is. You didn’t put a fakeout past him. 

Rick returned ten minutes later with a colorful takeout bag in hand. He shoved it into your chest as soon as he emerged from the green backdrop. “Eat, or I swear I’ll– I’ll fuckin’ forcefeed you myself.”

You glared at him as he left you behind in the kitchen, storming off to who knows where. The bag was warm and heavy. Saliva pooled in your mouth at its heavenly aroma and for the first time in a while, you rushed to the table to fill the pit in your stomach. The thought that Rick was tricking you somehow with shit food didn’t even cross your mind—that was how hungry you were. You flipped open the takeout box and feasted your eyes upon a heap of…

You didn’t even know what you were looking at. You sniffed the steam coming from the box, the great smell failing to align aesthetically with the blob of goop and mush, no clear indication of what the hell it was. You nibbled at it and sighed contentedly. The tiny bite packed the most flavor you’ve ever gotten from any plate of food, ever. It was good. Tasted like something sentimentally familiar and something unknown all at once. 

You ate it all, feeling held by a warmth from within. Blood rushed to your gut, making you slow and sleepy. The only thing you dreaded was having to cozy up in your bright room with that window allowing the sun to burn holes into your bed. You knew you’d just toss and turn and wallow in discomfort for a couple hours before giving up and doomscrolling. 

Still, you trudged over to your room anyway, and… it was completely dark. 

The metallic scent of tools lingered in the air. Peering over at the window, you saw blackout boards where glass once was. 

You observed it like its existence was something revolutionary. It kinda was, considering the only person who could’ve done it. 

It irked you, but your body appreciated it more than you did. You slept for days.

[ ]

Six months later, the kids decided to unfreeze time and made their final preparations. Rick had a few warnings before he made time flow again, chief among them being to not touch anyone. Morty and Summer couldn’t hide their fearful expressions as their parents burst into the house, demanding answers for a ‘negative image,’ as Rick called it. He quickly got rid of the problem by sending them out for ice cream with a whopping five hundred dollars. 

Summer and Morty trailed after Rick like little ducklings and you took that as your cue to break from them and save yourself from whatever petty argument they’d find themselves in. You didn’t get far—-Summer and Morty’s bickering reached a fever pitch and you felt a shift in the air. Rick raced into the garage with urgency and you felt inclined to follow. 

“What’s happening?” You asked as you stepped into the garage, eyes darting between a very panicked Morty and— no, was it a panicked Summer? You felt pulled by two perceptions of a simultaneous reality. 

“Summer and Morty made us uncertain!” Rick slammed his fist on his worktable. “Our time is fractured. You two somehow created a feedback loop of uncertainty that's split our reality into two equally possible impossibilities. W– We’re entirely hypothetical.”

“I– I thought there were infinite timelines!” Morty said.

“We’re not on any timeline, dummy.” He opened the garage door to pitch black surroundings, cats floating aimlessly as far as you could see. “This is why you don’t freeze time, guys. It’s incredibly irresponsible.”

“And you did it so you could clean the house after a party.” Morty rolled his eyes. Or– he didn’t? Double vision came and went everytime the kids spoke up. 

Summer and Morty continued to argue over each other and you could see Rick losing patience in real time. It was odd, being back in Rick’s garage. A lot had changed. More mess, explosion burns littered all over the walls, takeout containers like the one he’d brought for you months ago discarded all over the floor, and…

You discreetly strolled across the room to get a better glimpse of a box peeking out from a stack of unfurled blueprints. It had no label, just a heart doodled in the corner. You raised the prints and saw all the machines Rick had made for you packed inside: the manicure machine, automatic hairstyler, a massager that can adapt to any sleeping or sitting position—everything was in there. You had honeslty expected him to destroy it all.

“Stay where I can see you,” Rick pulled you in line with his grandkids, making a point to avoid your eyes. He held up a glowing pink crystal. “Since this time crystal exists in both possibilities, and since it's impossible that I didn't nail this, I'm probably about to press this button in both possibilities at exactly the same time.”

Morty’s or Summer’s (one of the two) brows furrowed. “How do you know you’re gonna—?”

“Whatever you’re asking, the answer is I’m amazing. And awaaaayyy we go!” Boop! Rick pressed the button and Morty and Summer glitched around you, phasing in and out of their place at your sides, screaming in agony. 

You ducked away from them, backing up and watching Morty phase into Summer, and Summer into Morty, over and over again. “Rick!” 

“Oh, shit.” Rick deactiviated his contraption and everything returned to normal. Realities separated once more, and you were no closer to a solution.

You put your hands on the kids’ shoulder, eyes whipping between them with concern. “Are you two—?”

“No, they’re not okay! They’re the opposite of okay!” Rick interrupted you, his shoulders tensed. “What the hell is wrong with you two!? I— I me— I mean you four!?”

“That was painful,” Summer frowned, her eyes downcast.

“Good! M’glad it was painful.” His focus briefly flickered to your horrified expression and wrote it off within the same moment. “I saw you, you two are all over the place! W– Wh– What the hell do you two have to be so uncertain about?”

You crossed your arms. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Rick sucked in a slow, careful breath before he addressed you. “Is what obvious?”

“They’re clearly uncertain because of you, fucking piece of shit. Wanna be in your good graces so bad, they’ve forgotten you’ve only been around for… what, a year? Certainly not enough time for you to care about anyone, not even your own family.”

Rick bit his tongue. His eyes swung between Morty and Summer. “Y– You both wanna be Grandpa's favorite, huh? Is that it?” He rolled his eyes, guiding Morty to sit at his right and Summer to his left. “Now listen, I know the two of you are very different from each other in a lot of ways, but you have to understand that as far as Grandpa's concerned, you're both pieces of shit.”

Their faces fell. Your glare deepened.

Rick didn’t give a shit, as expected, and doubled down. “Yeah, I— Look, I can prove it mathematically. This has been a long time coming, anyway.” He pulled a whiteboard out from its place against the wall, popping caps off markers and scribbling away. 

[ ] 

Half an hour later, Rick was nearing the end of his grand presentation, a topic he shouldn’t have been so enthusiastic to speak on.

Rick dropped the whiteboard markers back onto the ledge. “So in conclusion, you're both equally mercurial, overly sensitive, clingy hysterical bird brained homunculi. And I honestly can't tell the two of you half the time because I don't go by height or age, I go by amount of pain in my ass, which makes you both identical.”

Ugh. You shook your head in disgust. Love for his family was the only aspect of Rick’s character that you didn’t doubt in your fallout, because you thought you knew how much he cared… in his own way, at least. But apparently you were wrong about that small concession, too.

Rick was about to boot up his merging device again when he caught your expression. It was scalding, like you were berating him with the look in your eyes alone. It pissed him off a little, knowing that something he did was reaffirming whatever thoughts you had of him, and one thing he did not like was proving anyone else right at his expense. 

“W– What?” He snapped, glaring at you over the kids’ heads. “Lemme guess, you got something to add.” 

You shrugged and looked away.

Rick’s eyes narrowed further. He wished time was still frozen for him so he could pick apart every micro-expression you’ve let slip through your facade. Were you angry, still? Were you exasperated? Disappointed? 

The timeline split into four. 

You and Rick locked eyes. 

“That– That wasn’t me!” Morty protested hurriedly. Summer jumped on in her defense seconds later with, “Well, it wasn’t me, either!”

“Shut up,” Rick mumbled to them, unable to look away from you. 

You knew he was the one to split the timeline. You could make out his thinking face from a mile away. What did he have to think about, if he out of you all was the most certain? 

He finally tore his attention from you and fiddled with his tech instead. 

You studied him closely. He sought your approval often, or at least whenever the opportunity presented itself, always under the guise of looking for a fight to entertain himself or to ragebait you into submission. Why was he so hung up about this, anyway? Going back to life before you shouldn’t be so hard for him—he probably had a hundred years of it already, or however old he was. Was he that determined to get back into your good graces? 

And… did you feel sympathetic towards his efforts? No. No, you didn’t. Right?

The timeline split into eight.

“Fuck,” you whispered, clutching your head.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Rick gathered everybody into a line. “Lemme just come out and say it: you’re all pieces of shit to me and I think it’s no secret that I’m a piece of shit to you, too. Okay? We all nice and certain?” Rick waited for no answers before pressing the button.

You all held your breath in anticipation, but… it didn’t work.

Rick glanced up. He sucked in a sharp gasp and his eyes went wide. “Those sons of a bitches are gonna kill me!” He bulldozed past the three of you, practically launching himself onto his workbench and scrambling for parts. “Diabolical, unfeeling sociopaths—”

Your mounting fear drove you to speak. “Rick, what’s—?” 

“D– Do– Don’t you get it?! The other Ricks aren’t trying to merge us anymore. They think they can save his own skin by using the crystal to kill the rest of us. He– He probably figures it's easier to eliminate the other possibilities rather than merge them.” He loaded a gun and chuckled a bit to himself, which had your eyebrows furrowing. “I have to admit, it's been in the back of my mind too. The difference is I would never do it, until now…” He looked up conspiratorially. 

“Rick, what the hell are you doing?” Morty clutched his head as his grandfather stalked into the middle of the room with his finger on the trigger, glaring at the ceiling. 

Rick aimed the gun up and let a few bullets loose. You, Summer, and Morty screamed, sheltering your heads as Rick went fucking haywire, leaping across the room to dodge nonexistent projectiles. 

“I’m saving our lives! After they take me out, who– who d’you think they’re coming after?” Rick snapped. 

A bullet whizzed by and—CRACK!—dented Rick’s work desk. Morty’s scream was raw as he hopped away, backing up to the opposite side of the room.

“Y– You see that? Huh? Believe me now?” He stormed over and shoved Summer beside her brother, and then both of them closer to the floor. He backed up into you, causing you to stumble into the trajectory of a bullet that whizzed by. It tore a line through your thigh on its way to the ground. 

“Rick!” You screamed, cradling your leg as blood soaked through your clothes. Fuck, it burned. The wound was a few inches long, a centimeter deep. “You fucking asshole!”

He spun and dropped his gaze to your injury, his eyes flashing with surprise. “...Shit. Why were you standing behind me?”

“Why was I-–?” Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “How about you look where you’re going? Your grandkids are in the room and you’re shooting around without any second thoughts?!”

“The other versions of me—”

“No, it’s just you. You’re the one with the gun.” Your leg screamed in protest but you locked the pain to the back of your mind. You stepped closer to him; he took it as a challenge and squared up to you, glowering at you down the bridge of his nose. “No more bullets flying,” you noticed. “The others must’ve killed their versions of me, too.”

“Killed? It’s only a scratch.” He gestured to your thigh off-handedly. “I’m not a fucking monster.”

“No? You don’t do much to prove otherwise.” You tilted your head, pleasure bursting through your veins when you saw his eye twitch. 

Rick seethed, clenching his fists. “What is with you? Hm? You want grandpa’s attention, too, baby? S’that why you keep acting out?” 

“I…” Heat spread across your face and the only thought that crossed your mind was how stupid you must've looked in that moment. Words died on your tongue; so much time went by without him taking your bait, you had forgotten how to scrap with him. 

“Thou—uuurp—ght so.” He grabbed your arm and tugged you to his workbench and forced you into his chair. 

“Wait, no, that’s not—” You tried to push him away but ended up biting back the hiss of pain. “I don’t—”  

“I don’t want to hear it anymore. Fucking sick of your shit, d’you know that? ‘nd I– I don’t share any blood with you so Beth and Jerry won’t mind if I throw you out into the void and be done with your whining for good.” Rick knelt before you, using one arm as a lapbar to pin your hips to the chair while his free hand examined your wound. A mechanical arm extended from his back and rifled through the messy shelves to pull out a first aid kit.

You huffed and pushed Rick away with your good foot. “I don’t want your help.”

“You don’t? You– You wanna keep bleeding all over my floor? That sounds better than what I’m offering, thanklessly, might I add?” Rick raised his eyebrow, warm fingers circling your ankle. It was the first he’d touched you in a long time. Memories clouded the present. Fond memories.

You shook yourself out of the fog. “I can wrap it myself.” You rose to your feet and made a play for the first aid kit. Rick shot up after you to grab your shoulders and yank you back down, caging you with his arms once you were seated. Morty and Summer exchanged looks from where they huddled in the corner. 

“Just let me do this,” Rick said lowly. 

“Why do you care?” You asked in all seriousness. He didn’t answer. He opened the first aid kit and picked out the antiseptic and gauze like you had said nothing, but you bent to catch his eye. “Weren’t you the one saying you were gonna throw me to my death?”

He groaned, “Obviously, I… didn’t mean that.”

“How am I supposed to know what you do mean and what you don’t?”

“‘Cause it’s none of your bu–uuurp—siness,” Rick’s eyes constricted. “I don’t owe you that shit.”

“You owe it to me if you said you meant it.” You retorted. Rick stared at you for a lengthy moment, his gears, bells, and whistles ramping up to full, anger-powered capacity. 

“For– F– For fuck’s sake! It's been months! Months! Get over it!” Rick’s voice was steadily rising. “What d’you want me to do, sweetheart? Please enlighten me with your rose-colored vision for how to solve something I’ve already done and don’t regret! W– W- Want me to go back in time and– and take it all back? I don’t do time travel!”

You took the gauze from him, pointing at him accusingly. “I want you to admit you made a mistake.”

“I don’t make mistakes,” he said distastefully, like the concept of the word itself left a bad residue in his mouth. 

“Then, I’m right about you.” You cocked an eyebrow.

“No, you’re not. You can’t— You don’t know me.”

“I know enough about you.” You began slowly. “Like how you abandon the people you say you’re going to protect. Leave them for a fate worse than death like it’s just another day to you. Is that what happened in C-137?”

Something washed over Rick’s expression. The warmth of the garage drained along with any hope for compromise in his eyes. He looked agitated until he channeled that energy into pacing, fingers laced behind his neck. 

Morty spoke up, eyes bouncing between you and his grandpa. “Um… how about– you know, what let’s– let’s focus back on getting out of here. Rick?”

“Yeah, don’t we have a time limit?” Summer added on after Morty egged her on.

Rick was in his own world. “You’re a big girl now, are– aren’t you? Travel the multiverse and think you know shit? You don’t. I didn’t abandon you, fucking hypersensitive freak.”

A wry laugh bubbled off your lips. “That’s exactly what you did.”

“No, I—”

“Yes, it’s what you did, Rick, and you’re the only one in denial about it.”

He whirled on you with a vicious anger you hadn’t seen since you drunkenly stumbled into his lab the first time. He was screaming at you, but his voice faded to the background when you caught the kids moving, charging at the two of you with fists curled around spare parts. Your brows furrowed just as you realized they were coming at you with malicious intent. You didn’t have the bandwidth to react, and with a CLUNK you were out cold. 

[ ]

“Didn’t you do first aid?”

“I cheated, Morty, who do you think I am?”

You jolted awake as a cloth constricted around your thigh. You sucked in a sharp breath, pulling your knee to your chest. 

“Sorry,” Summer mumbled. 

How long had you been… were you in a cage? You peered out at Summer and Morty behind bars. They really caged you like you were an animal. 

Unhappy grumbling behind you made your head turn. Rick rubbed his head and sat up at your side. “What is this?” He deadpanned, assessing the kids’ cage. 

“W– We— You guys were fighting, so we put you in here.” Morty explained, tapping his fingers together nervously. “T– To calm down, you know?”

“And fix this,” Summer gestured vaguely to your wound. “The more I look at it, the more I want to barf.”

Rick’s eyes met yours before you both turned your glares away from each other. You filled your mind with every detail of the garage door to distract yourself from the man next to you and the throbbing pain. 

“R– Rick, come on.” Morty pleaded softly.

Rick sighed roughly. “Can I…?”

You folded your arms, but shifted your eyes back to him. The tension and frustration between you and Rick had dissipated. You were hurting. He was… him. Hurting too, you guessed. You just wanted this time situation to be fixed up so you could return to your room. 

“Give me something to work with here.” Rick said, unnaturally soft. 

You swallowed your stubborn reflex. “You can,” you said.

Rick’s hands gripped the underside of your wounded thigh and pulled it closer, draping it over his lap. You held onto the closest bar to steady yourself as he dragged you to his side across the concrete in turn. His fingers, calloused by hard labor and dry to a point that raised concern, caught on your soft skin, which was cool but quickly heating up under his touch. This was embarrassing, yet comforting all at once. Unwanted, but wanted. Familiar. 

Rick took the gauze from Morty’s outstretched hand. He unwrapped Summer’s amateur patch job and tossed the bloodied cloth to the side. He pulled a long strip off the roll next and got to wrapping, weaving tight layers over your cut to keep pressure on it. Minutes later, it was all tied up. The throbbing had dulled to light pulses. 

Rick didn’t move your leg from his lap—didn’t even move his hand from your leg. You didn’t exactly pull back, either. The thought crossed your mind but unlike before, you didn’t have an inescapable urge to be far from him. Besides, the warmth of his hand soothed the sting.

“I’m not a threat anymore, okay?” Rick told his grandkids. 

“You tried to kill yourself!” Morty jabbed a finger at Rick through the bars. 

“It was self defense! Myself tried to kill me first! I’ll prove that I’m good now. Listen–uuurp—I’ll call myself and it'll probably go to voice mail since, you know, I'm calling myself.” He pulled his phone out and dialed himself. The call rang for a minute before the voicemail message played out. “D– Don’t fall for the first part, it’s a bit.”

“Hello, Rick here. Just kidding, haha! You just got Ricked. You've reached Rick's voicemail, you know what to do.” 

Dork.

The voicemail tone beeped. Rick leaned back as he spoke into the mic. “Hey Rick, it's Rick. Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. Sorry if I– you know, if I shot your girl. One of you shot mine, too, but no hard feelings. She’s all patched up now. Anyways, take it easy.” He ended the call, instantly receiving a slew of notifications. “See? I'm blowing up. A bunch of new voicemails.” He played a few, all exact duplicates of his own message. “You get the idea—uuurp—we're all cool now.”

Summer and Morty exchanged suspicious looks. “Well… we’re still not letting you out.” Summer folded her arms. 

Rick rolled his eyes. “Fine.” Tools protruded from his arms and found the weak spots of the cage. It collapsed around you both. He blocked the top of it from falling on top of you and tossed it aside. 

“If you could get out the whole time, why didn’t you?” Morty asked, following Rick as he crossed the garage to his workbench. 

“‘Cause I waited ‘til I was certain.” Rick rifled through rows and rows of drawers. “Shit. We’re breaking down. Half of my shit isn’t even in here. We don’t have long until— ‘til the garage is destroyed and we’re all floating out there with Schrödinger's cats.” He pulled out a glass and flicked it with his fingers, unsettling the liquid within. “Good job, Sum–uuurp—mer, good job, Morty. You really did it this time.”

The kids exploded in their defense. Rick returned to where you still sat on the ground while they argued over each other, peeling back your gauze. You inched away from him with a shuddered breath. “What– what are you doing?” With your wraps loose, gravity let the edges of your wound sag apart, sparking a fresh wave of pain. 

Rick hooked his hand under your knee, tilting your thigh up slightly for inspection. His tired eyes flickered to yours. “When I gave you weird shit before, were they ever not helpful or—”

“Don’t patronize me, not right now,” you cut him off with a wince. 

He tongued his cheek, his chest rising as he choked down whatever smartass remark he had on standby. “It’s gonna soothe your pain until we get back and I get you something better. S’gonna make you feel funny, though.”

You tilted your head in confusion the moment he poured the serum into your open wound. Your spine snapped straight, eyes flying open. “Fuck—!”

“Shhh, I know, I know,” he hummed, tossing the glass to the ground unceremoniously and re-wrapping your gauze. 

“You said it was soothing,” you hissed through tears. The aforementioned ‘soothing’ serum sizzled into your flesh, bringing you back to how it felt when the bullet tore through your skin ten times over. To what end? You didn’t know. Nothing about this was funny. “You’re the worst.”

“Heard that one before. Back to squ– back to square one, huh?” Rick stood without another word, returning to the problem at hand—returning to your proper timeline. You phased in and out of lucidity and slumped against the bookshelf behind you, consciousness slipping from your grasp. Once the pain was too much to handle at once, your brain finally took the hint and shut down.

[ ]

Everything was shaking. Your body was suspended mid-air until it was brought back against the ground, cracking the concrete.

“What the…” you blinked the sleep from your eyes. 

“She’s— Rick! She’s awake!”

“Huh? Oh.” 

“You’re okay! Oh, man, we– we– w- uh, you scared us for a second there.” Morty carefully hopped on solid ground over to you, helping you to your feet. 

“Us?” Rick glared at Morty from the corner of his eye. 

You were still in the garage. Well—what was left of it. The walls had crumbled to nothing and the floor beneath you was turning brittle as well. There was a brown splotch in the corner, like someone had thrown a bucket of paint all over Rick’s counter—you didn’t even want to know. 

How long were you out of it? You glanced down. Your cut had sealed itself, leaving behind a millimeter of depth that would have taken days to achieve. The pain was minimal. Manageable, even. You stood at your full height without an issue. 

“She can put her own collar on, now.” Rick tugged your wrist out and slapped a cool, silver collar into your palm. 

“Collar?” You scrunched your nose. 

“Lo– long story, uh— we managed to get home thanks to the time police, but they were going to arrest us ‘cause Rick stole a time crystal. And we didn’t wanna go to jail, obviously, so… so Rick beat him to death and now we’re going to use these collars he gave us to merge the realities again and go back home.” Morty rattled off.

“We went home? And– and we’re back here, now?”

“Like I said, long story,” he sighed. 

Your brain was still foggy, but you caught up with the situation quickly. Brown splotch in the corner—that must’ve been the time officer. You turned the collar over. It looked like it just clicked shut, simple and easy. Home was within reach. 

Rick hovered over his workbench, Summer at his side. His deft fingers worked on her collar, fixing it, you assumed, before he gave it back to her. “Now, we’re really out of time. Ironic, huh?” He nodded to Summer. He didn’t have to tell her twice. She put her collar on the minute she had it in her hands again and she was gone in a flash of light, back to the realm of certainty. 

You and Rick waited for Morty to do the same. He put the collar on, but he didn’t disappear like Summer did. He took it off and put it on again at least twice more without any results. You felt the panic rising off of him. 

“Morty... just snap it shut. Do you need me to close it?” You asked him. Cracks split the ground beneath your feet and snapped off into the space below; you quickly stepped back to avoid falling through the growing hole. Across from you, Rick was focused on Morty, his expression caught between frustration and concern. 

“I’m trying, it—” Morty’s breath came in short puffs. “The latch is broken! It won't latch closed around my neck!”

Rick gritted his teeth. “What are you talking about? It's not broken, Morty, I fixed it, just put it on!”

“I can’t, it’s– it’s- it’s broken!” Morty’s voice was hoarse. His hands trembled around his collar, the red light glaring back at him.

“Here, take mine, Morty.” You thrusted your collar towards him. The idea that you’d never return home was the last thing to cross your mind when you made the decision to give up your one-way ticket back to certainty. You couldn’t stand to see him like this. In all of this, in the absurdity that comes with Rick’s world, the kids shouldn’t have to suffer for things out of their control. It came naturally; an instinct that overpowered your self-preservation.  

Morty’s eyes snapped up to you in shock. For a moment, he considered it—you saw the hesitation in his expression. But he was surprisingly noble and blubbered, “No, no, I can’t!” 

A whisper of a smile tugged at your lips. “It’ll be okay,” you said gently. 

“Give it here, Morty, I’ll fix it. You can both keep your collars.” Rick was quick to defuse Morty’s raving anxiety. Morty exhaled slowly as he made his way through the debris towards Rick. He made one wrong step and dropped straight through the floor. He screamed and caught onto the edge with his free hand. 

Both you and Rick lunged forward to grab him. Your hand fisted into the collar of Morty’s shirt, providing a foothold when the area he was holding onto broke away into the abyss. His weight nearly tipped you over, and he certainly didn’t do you any favors when he started to flail and grasp at your forearm. Rick dove past you to pull him up and onto solid ground. 

Morty gasped, clutching his chest as though his heart had stopped beating. “I’m– I’m alive!” 

He’s okay. Your heartbeat flooded your ears, so loud that you couldn’t even hear what Rick and Morty were talking about until a few seconds had passed. 

“Where’s your collar, Morty, I’ll fix it!” Rick grabbed Morty’s arms and shook him with urgency. “Where— just give it to me!” 

“I– I– oh, man, I dropped it!” Morty clutched his head. 

Your stomach dropped. “Morty…”

Rick blinked. The garage continued to disintegrate around you. His eyes darted between his collar and Morty, and without hesitation, he moved to fasten his own collar around Morty’s neck. 

That sparked something within you. Fuck it. You beat Rick to it, batting his hand away and snapping your collar around Morty’s neck. He disappeared in the next second. 

You were okay with this. You were okay with this. 

“What—” Rick’s hands closed around nothing once Morty returned to certainty. His wild eyes found yours. “I could’ve fixed it!” 

“Fix what, genius? He dropped his collar!” You shot back, flattening your back against the wall as the hole grew bigger. “I saved you the choice between yourself and your grandson.”

“It’s not– It wasn’t a choice I needed to make in the first place!”

“Rick,” your eyes squeezed shut. You were really going to die here. You were okay with this. “Just shhh. Your collar’s still working, right?” 

He didn’t answer you, his collar lying idle in his hand. 

“Rick?” You whimpered as the more of the ground withered away. The heel of your foot slipped into the emptiness below as available space reduced to a sliver you couldn’t comfortably sit on. “Fuck,” you whispered. Dying was worse than you’d imagined. Slow and unmerciful.

“Shit, shit, shit—” You shuffled to the side without success; the ground underneath you finally gave way. With a throat-scarring shriek, you tumbled downwards, spinning aimlessly through space.

I’m okay with this, I’m okay with this, I’m— Tears bubbled off your waterline and were lost to the stars around you. You couldn’t see anything; couldn’t grab anything to steady yourself. There was absolutely nothing around you. Nobody around you. Lights blurred as pressure built behind your skull, second only to the soul-crushing defeat of being utterly alone until you starved to death—

Your breath stuttered in your chest as you were yanked out of your literal spiral. You’d recognize Rick’s touch in any situation, certainly as he pulled you close as you fell. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his found your waist, legs tangling as you both slowly floated farther away from the garage. 

“Rick, you…” you whispered. He had his own working collar but he came after you. Everything you harbored against him mattered less and less and less; you were just glad you weren’t alone. 

“I’m here,” Rick squeezed you tight. He was searching your expression for something.

Your eyes fluttered shut, comforted. “You were, um… You were going to give Morty your collar.” 

“So were you. You actually gave Morty your collar.”

“I did it so you didn’t have to choose between yourself and him. To avoid this,” you vaguely gestured to your current situation. “You were fine throwing me into space a while ago.”

His expression pinched and he sucked in a labored breath. “I told you, I didn’t mean that. I’m– I’m not a monster.”

You frowned, his words planting a seed of guilt in your heart. “I know, I’m sorry.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him. You felt him relax, his long sigh fanning over your shoulder as he reciprocated. 

“Don’t– Don’t apologize.” He mumbled against your skin. “You’re not wrong. About– you know… any of it. You have this stupid way of ruining the gimmick I have– that I have for myself, and I had the chance to get rid of you, so I did. Tried to, at least. It didn’t last very long, y– as you know. ”

“You're being surprisingly open,” you remarked. 

“I mean, I'm about to die, so. Anyway.” He pursed his lips. "This makes us even.” 

Even? “What are you…?” You trailed off until you felt something cool press on the back of your neck. You slapped his hand away. “Rick! I gave mine up specifically so—”

“For the love of– Can you just give me a break and let me do this? Why– Why don’t you ever let me do things for you?” 

Your eyes narrowed. The fuck was he talking about? “Morty and Summer—”

He waved you off. “Morty and Summer like you.”

“And they love you!” You retorted matter-of-factly. “It’s the whole reason they broke time in the first place!”

Rick gathered your wrists with one hand and held them down against your protests. 

“What…” You swallowed thickly. “What am I supposed to tell them?” 

He lined the collar up with your neck. He looked pained, as though he couldn’t believe he was giving up his life for yours, but he managed to shrug indifferently. “Tell them what happened. That I saved you, like I… like I maybe should’ve done the first time.” 

His stare bore into yours. Shit. You hated this situation. Why did he have to redeem himself just enough when you would never see him again? 

“Rick, wait—” 

He snapped the collar shut. He faded into the void as you were sucked through time and space. 

[ ]

You crumpled to the garage floor. Morty and Summer were at your side instantly. 

“You’re okay, I thought you— why— why’d you take so long?” Morty asked first. 

Summer glanced around, her brows creasing in worry. “Where’s grandpa Rick?” 

“He’s…” gone. This would’ve been so much easier to declare months ago, when you were sure you wanted Rick dead and out of your life. Now… you were questioning it all. You were questioning why you even felt sympathy to begin with, when you knew in your heart of hearts that he wouldn’t and couldn’t change.

But what you saw today wasn’t an illusion, and what you felt didn’t feel wrong, either.

Minutes must have passed before you noticed Morty and Summer peering at you in anticipation. 

You took a deep breath and collected yourself. “He’s—”

Something buzzed at your left. 

“Here! He’s here!” Summer gasped, spinning around. “Grandpa Rick!”

What? You lifted your head. Summer embraced her grandfather as if… as if he… 

No. Not ‘as if.’ He really was here. Rick was standing above you with a functional, green collar fastened at his neck. Someway, somehow, definitely real, and definitely here. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you stood. The kids clamored around him, asking him a billion and one questions, but you needed no explanation. If anyone could get out of that situation, Rick would be the one to do it. Chance worked in his favor and you didn’t find yourself mad about it—the emotion rushing over you beat your instinct to write this off as anything less than extraordinary. 

He didn’t leave you behind this time. This makes us even, he’d said.

Rick’s grin was unmistakable. He was beaming like he couldn’t believe he made it back, his breath coming in short puffs. High on adrenaline, that was for sure. “One dot, baby!” He pulled out a computer, showing the screen off triumphantly. One dot, one timeline. 

You four deflated with sweet, sweet relief, knowing you were on solid ground and never leaving anytime soon, thanks to the time collars. Rick started to do a happy dance and the kids joined in, too, all of them blabbering in disbelief that they had turned that awful situation around in their favor.

Rick ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled slowly. He couldn’t believe he’d floated far enough and within reach of the collar Morty had dropped. It was… It had to be a miracle. 

His eyes finally found yours over the kids’ heads, their excited chatter fading into the background. You were smiling at him; for a moment, he was taken back to the days you made a home of his garage and saw a glimpse of the girl you’d been pre-Citadel. Fuck, he missed you. He didn’t like it, but he did. 

Instead of looking away when he watched you, as you’d made a habit of doing all these months, your head tilted, heavy with something unspoken. 

His heart thudded in his chest, no adrenaline required. That was the first genuine smile he’d seen on your face in a long, long time. A real smile for him. He drank in the sight of the long-lost light in your eyes and allowed it to consume his every thought without resistance, and immediately knew he was done for. Rick had to face something he’d been unfamiliar with for decades—hope.

“Summer, you can't throw a party! Remember what mom said?” Morty whined, chasing after her. You and Rick glared at each other before you followed him inside. 

“Yeah, if anything gets messed up, you and grandpa Rick get punished. I’m a free woman.” She said matter-of-factly with a grin. She was grabbing crackers from the cupboards and lining them up. Were those supposed to be party snacks? You suppressed an amused smile. It was obvious that this was her first party. 

Morty threw his hands up in exasperation, looking at you for support. 

You shrugged. “Think about it, Morty. A party could be good for you. You wouldn’t have to deal with Rick and his adventures.”

“Well— I mean, yeah, but—” Morty’s focus diverted once Rick entered the kitchen with a tray of some fancy looking food. You moved to the opposite side of the kitchen. 

“So you’re on board, then?” Summer brightened and turned to you with a hopeful look. “Yes! You worked in a super cool club. Please, please, please help me throw this party.”

“No!” Morty fumed. “Rick, tell Summer she can’t have a party.” 

“Summer, you can’t have a party.” Rick droned. “Because I’m—uuurp—having a party, biiitch!”

You rolled your eyes as Morty started to spiral. “Listen, I think the three of us could just–you know, have a nice time just hanging out, and doing a little bonding and—”

“Screw that.” Summer put her hands on her hips. “This is my chance to gain some footing with the cool kids.”

“That's why you party? Boy, you really are seventeen.” Rick grumbled over his tray. 

You tuned their bickering out and gave Morty a sympathetic look. “Hey, whatever these two get into, just come into my room if you want some peace and quiet, okay?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking out for us?” Morty complained.

“The best way I can look out for you is to hunker down while Rick does whatever it is he does and hope he knocks himself out sooner than later.” 

Morty glanced at Summer and Rick before storming off, muttering to himself. He zipped upstairs and slammed his door closed while you retreated to your room. 

[ ]

Hours later, the party raged on beyond your door. You had locked it after seeing the quality of people (and non-people) flooding the house. Summer kept some weird friends and Rick, well… his friends were a reflection of him: chaotic, messy, incredibly horny. 

It’d been a week or so since the Citadel incident. You and Rick didn’t speak to each other unless it was an insult of some sort. You hadn’t stepped foot in his garage, and he barely came into your space anymore, no matter how drunk or high he was. 

Your mind tormented you every night. Rick’s touch, though it happened ages ago, still remained in the back of your mind. He was so gentle with you back then. He would be amenable to your requests, talk genuinely with you, he’d carry you to bed if you went too far down a bottle… He held you by the saloon. You missed that. Late at night, you’d find yourself sorrowful because of it. You paired every memory of Rick with a harsh reminder that you hated him, but it didn’t really work. Rick wasn’t doing much better, or so you heard from Morty’s ramblings. He was rash, excessively violent, and a phenomenal asshole to everyone he encountered. 

Someone burst through your door and shocked you out of thought—a bird looking guy and one of Summer’s classmates, drunk as shit, already started to pull each other’s clothes off. You got up and pointed to the hallway. “Nope. This place is off limits, sorry.” 

They groaned, still sucking face. Your warning went through one ear and out the other, but at least they tried to turn around. You sighed and guided them out your door, closing it behind you. Just your luck, you ran into Rick the moment you stepped foot out of your sanctuary. 

He glared at you over the rim of his bottle. Your stare was blank as you shoved the pair into his chest. “Take your friend.”

“Hey, Birdperson’s go—uuurp—t some bad luck these days and you’re making it worse. You’re making it worse, you know that? You– you don’t want him to get laid? You want him to be alone and sad forever?” He pushed Birdperson and his beau aside just to lay into you. You were noticing he’d take any little opportunity to speak to you, if only to make you feel bad.

You shoved past him into the living room. You weren’t going to feel guilty for something like that. Get a room that wasn’t yours, how about that?

The fumes coming from the living room perked you up. What a complete mess. So many people lingering around, snacks and cups in hand, music blasting over any conversation—the house was torn up. I’m sorry, Beth… Rick better have had a plan to fix everything. 

You stepped over stains and spills to grab a snack from the kitchen—if there was even anything edible left. Summer practically jumped on your back, causing you to yelp in surprise. 

“OMG, you’re finally here. We’re running out booze and that’s the whole reason most of my friends came here anyway—”

You sighed tiredly. “Summer…”

“You’re cool, they’ll like you! I need to be popular and this is my chance, please help me! You’re my only hope. Grandpa’s friends are taking the spotlight!” She wailed. 

You gave her a sideways look and frowned. Your beef with Rick would’ve been easier if you weren’t so fond of the kids. Summer was the typical teenage girl but there were moments she reminded you of Rick, in a way. She was much more tolerable than he was, and for some reason, idolized your line of work. 

“Gimme your phone.” 

“You still haven’t bought a new one?” She tilted her head and dropped her phone into your palm. 

“I’m procrastinating on that.” You mumbled and dialed a number before bringing the phone to your ear. Summer grinned excitedly when she heard the call go through. You spoke first. “Heyyy. Yeah, I know it’s been a while. Mhm. No, I quit a couple months back. Got myself something of a sugar daddy. No, no, it’s not a sex thing. Yes, I promise! Hmm… You’re so right, I do need to get laid. But anyway, he’s got the cutest family. Wanna come over? The kids are throwing a party and they need some— yeah, exactly. Can you help my girl out and bring some over for all of us? We can catch up.” 

Summer watched you expectantly and you reassured her with a soft smile. “That’s fine,” you continued. “Okay, great! I’ve been missing you, it’s gonna be so fun. Mhm. Okay, see you.”

“Well?” Summer whispered when you dropped the call. 

“A coworker of mine is gonna come over.” You explained and handed her the phone. “She’s gonna bring snacks, drinks, other, uh… stuff, that maybe you shouldn’t partake in. She’ll be here in ten and credit you with replenishing stock, of course.”

Summer squealed and jumped into your arms. “You’re such a lifesaver!”

You laughed and hugged her back. You weren’t too hot on this party thing a few minutes ago, but with your friend coming over, you had some hope for the night. It’d be nice to finally see some familiar faces, as much as you liked the Smith family… minus Sanchez. 

You hung around the living room for a while, taking in all the different aliens Rick had invited. The high schoolers were getting on surprisingly well with them. There was a clock, an orange racoon looking thing, and a humanoid gear box. Your quiet observation broke when you heard thundering knocks on the front door. 

The party turned to the new arrivals as there had been a lull in the attendees for a while. Summer was right; things were reaching a standstill. With their interest piqued, students closed in around the entryway. You and Summer rushed over to the door and you shoved her forward to open it for her audience. You couldn’t conceal your excited smile once she threw the door open and three people filtered in with boxes of bottles and snacks. 

“Is this Summer’s place?” Your closest friend, Brynn, walked in, glammed up like a Bratz doll. She was older than you by a few years and naturally became a role model to you. She was always the most confident of your shiftmates, always butted in when things got weird between clients, and always looked out for the younger ones. “We heard there was a party and wanted to drop in.”

Summer’s eyes were practically shining as she nodded. “Yep, this is my party!” 

“Perfect, sugar.” Brynn nodded to the two behind her. They looked as though they’d been barhopping before coming down because they were all dressed like they were meant to be Pinterest photos. She was with her boyfriend, who looked much older than her, and another guy you didn’t recognize. 

“Holy shit, Summer, you’re amazing!” Someone in the crowd screamed as they saw all the loot being hauled inside. Cheers and similar praises made Summer puff her chest as she walked alongside the two guys into the living room, where they laid all the drinks and snacks out. 

“Brynn!” You exclaimed happily once people started to leave the hallway. “I’m so happy to see you, you wouldn’t believe.” 

“Hi, angelface.” Brynn hummed, giving you a social kiss. “You got a cute place here.” 

“Who the fuck are these guys?” Rick rasped behind you, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Your body immediately emblazoned with indications of your annoyance. Was he ever not where you were?

Brynn gave you an unimpressed look. “Oh, is this your—?”

“Yes.” You cut her off hurriedly, ignoring the weird look you got from Rick. “I’ll explain everything.  I’ve got so much to tell you.”

“Me too,” Brynn grinned mischeviously. “But lemme start with this: I brought a guy for you, just in case you were interested. Thought it’d solve your dry spell.”

You glanced over your shoulder to get a look at the guy she was referring to, but all you could focus on was Rick narrowing his eyes down at you as he drank. 

“What?” You snapped indignantly and pushed him back into the living room chaos. “Go back to your party, Rick, and I’ll go to mine.”

“With pleasure.” He huffed with a roll of his eyes, snatching his arm away from you and disappearing into the crowd. Somewhere between him walking away and the questionable noises coming from the garage, a buzz went off and the house was teleported to some alien planet. 

You paid it no mind and fumed in place. You wanted to rip that smug little righteous look off his dumb face. Brynn was suprisingly cool about the whole thing.

She came up to your side with a thoughtful hum. “Y’all are fucking, aren’t you? That has gotta be the most tension I’ve witnessed in a while.”

“What? No.” You said firmly, leading her into your room and closing the door behind you. You both dropped onto the couch. 

“So you aren’t fucking, but you really want to.” She deadpanned.

“What?! No!” You retorted, heat peppering your skin. “He’s the worst. The only good things about him are his money and his grandkids. I hate the rest of him.”

She laughed brightly. “Sure, sure.”

“I’m being dead serious.”

“Oh, I know. That’s how the hottest relationships start, though. That’s how my thing with my boyfriend started. But if you’re really sure about it, link up with the guy I brought along. He’s friends with my man and new at The Lounge—a bouncer. Think you’d like him.” She perked up like she remembered something and grabbed at one of the boxes she brought. “I also brought the clothes you left in the locker room, by the way. Figured you’d miss them.”

She pulled out some of the high quality lingerie sets gifted to you on behalf of your employers. Oh, you missed these. They were the nicest things you had owned. “Aww, Brynn… that’s so kind of you, thanks.”

As if on cue, the guys entered the room. Brynn introduced you to both of them, scooting over so her pick of the night could settle beside you. He was cute, respectful… he smelled good. Yeah, you wouldn’t mind getting laid tonight. 

[ ]

Rick quickly realized he wasn’t getting over shit.

It’d been a little over a week since he resolved to forget about you. It was easy at first, but now that time had chipped away at his stubborn anger, he was struggling big time. He only needed to outlast you, and he was sure you were going to cave before he did. Then everything could go back to normal without any effort on his part. 

“Rick, are you not enjoying the party anymore?” Birdperson asked, glowing from his entanglement with Tammy. Rick gripped his drink tightly. It was like the stupid saloon all over again; the only thing he could make out were your giggles behind your door, and the dummy making you laugh with his dumb jokes. 

“Don—uuurp—don’t worry about– about me, BP.” Rick muttered and closed his lips around his glass. He needed to lose himself in some crystals but of course, Morty was taking his sweet time out there. 

“You are awfully fixated on that door over there.”

Rick immediately turned his head away from your room. “Would you– would you relax?”

“Is that the girl—”

“Yes! Give it a rest!” Rick snapped, grabbing a bottle from a passerby and downing it in one go. 

Birdperson hummed monotonously. “Rick, I would encourage you to be open about your feelings to this girl. I did so with Tammy, and now we are in a long-term relationship.”

“Yeah? Good for you, buddy.” Rick waved him off. His brain was swimming, but he needed more distractions. “Where the fuck is Morty?” 

“Rick, I got them! I got the crystals!” Morty hustled into the living room, panting. 

“F–uuuurp—inally. You did it, Morty.” Rick snatched the bag from him and sat on the couch. He pulled out a credit card. 

“Rick, there's something you need to know. I couldn't have done it without Lincoler. He said that he was really sorry and that he loves you like a father. He only wanted you to accept him, and—-”

“Morty, don’t worry. He didn't die in vain ‘caues he got these crystals.” Rick cut up the crystals with his card and expertly snorted it. He felt high instantly, a pleasant shudder running down his body. When he looked up, his eyes turned blue. “And these babies just saved this lame-ass party!” His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He couldn’t hear you anymore. Good.

“What the hell?” Morty whispered to himself in disbelief. He couldn’t fathom that he was the most responsible person here. 

Or—no, he wasn’t. He had one other person he could trust. While Rick was lost in his impromptu dance break, Morty snatched the remaining crystals and ran into your room. 

“Uh.” Morty froze when he saw you and your friends. Thankfully, there wasn’t much to see, but the weight in the air felt like he was walking in on something. 

“Morty,” You smiled and waved him inside. You left your friends to converse on the couch and approached him. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“You gotta stop, Rick, he—” Morty’s eyes kept trailing back to your very attractive friends behind you. “Um, I– I hope I didn’t ruin anything—”

“No, you’re good. I mean, it was getting good between me and my new boy toy, but I’m gonna get laid no matter what tonight. What’s that?” You nodded to the bag. 

He shoved it into your arms roughly and dusted his hands of it, as if they were illegal goods he was being chased down for. “It’s stupid fucking crystals! Rick’s going crazy out there. I just– I wanna go home!” 

“Okay, okay,” you consoled him, crouching to his level. “Morty, you go out there and you tell him exactly how you feel, okay? You put your foot down. He won’t listen to me—not anymore. So you tell him you wanna go home and ruin his party if it comes to that, alright?”

Morty sniffed as he lifted his head. “Uh… you know what? Y– yeah. I’m done with all of this. Fuck Rick and– and fuck Summer, too!” He turned and stalked out of your room with determination. 

Shortly after, you heard a screaming match between Morty and Rick. Then a chorus of boos. You cringed, feeling bad for the kid but knowing he was too pissed off to care about his social image at the moment. 

You peeked inside the bag at the glowing pink crystals then glanced over to your friends. “Wanna try them?”

“I’d love to, angel, but I think I’m gonna head home. I’ve got a shift in, like, two hours.” Brynn rose to her feet and her boyfriend followed. You walked over to a window and glanced outside just as a foreign alien planet phased back into Earth. Rick sure worked fast. 

“Yeah, okay. Thank you for coming, I…” You smiled gratefully at her. “I really needed this.” 

“Aww…” Brynn embraced you tightly. “Keep in touch. I’m serious.”

You laughed and promised to do so. They walked out along with most of the other party guests, leaving you and your boy toy behind. 

“People still talk about you all the time at work,” he said as you dropped onto the cushions beside him. He put an arm behind you. 

“Yeah? What’d they say?”

“That you were the hottest in the uniforms.”

Your eyes drifted to the clothes Brynn dropped off. “Is that so?”

[ ]

Morty fluttered about the house, dragging a trash bag behind him. Rick couldn’t be bothered with whatever he was going on about, he was just so tired and heavy and desperate for relief that a day or two of hard partying didn’t give him. 

The part of him that he guarded himself from—his irrational attachments—was getting difficult to suppress. He wanted to feel like he’d earn your company, like he’d earn being wanted and needed by you, because he wouldn’t be able to accept the good you do in his life otherwise. But not at the expense of his own ego and pride—never at their expense. Apologizing was something he didn’t do, ever. So if you could just hurry up and get over whatever you were mad about, that’d be great. 

Rick was about to pass out until he heard your name. 

“She’s still with some guy,” Morty told Birdperson. It was a struggle to piece the words together—his brain was mush. “We don’t have to clean up in her room, I– when I looked, it was pretty tidy.”

Rick rose up off the couch like Frankenstein coming to life. You were cozying up with some new guy? Replacing him, when he was still hung up on you? You didn’t get to do that to him before he did it to you. 

“Rick, where are you—?! If you’re getting up, it’d– it’d better be to help clean!” Morty screamed after him. “Mom and Dad are….”

Rick crashed into the walls as he lugged one foot in front of the other towards you. Morty’s voice faded to the background when he heard soft noises behind your doors, and they only fueled the fire consuming his mind. He burst through your door without a second thought, brandishing his gun at the man under you.

“Rick?” You exclaimed, shocked at the intrusion. You froze in the guy’s lap and his hands stopped descending your body. Rick’s jaw clicked at the sight and he sauntered closer, aiming the gun at the guy. 

“Party’s over,” he hissed. “Get the fuck out.”

“Is this the grandpa?” The guy looked up at you, unperturbed by Rick’s threat. Instead, he tightened hold around you, and fuck, Rick could see your plush thighs dent as if they were welcoming this idiot’s fingers home. You were clothed in something so delicate and soft, wrapping around you like a gift, under the hands of someone that wasn’t him. And that was all he could think about—-that it wasn’t him.

“Just go,” you whispered to your boy toy, noting something different in Rick’s eye.

“And let this old man boss me around? I don’t think so.” The guy chuckled snarkily, shoving you off of his lap to square up against Rick. You hit the ground with an offended noise. 

Rick’s gaze followed you, one eye twitching. Why did he even come in here? He couldn’t think straight. He wanted to make sure you were still hurting like he was, and the first part about that was ensuring you remained alone. 

“What, are you gonna shoot me with that toy gun?” The guy taunted, immune to your disbelieving look. 

Was this guy stupid? Your head turned to Rick, warning bells ringing loud and clear. He wasn’t speaking none of the bullshit he usually does; he was tracking the guy like a predator would their prey. The look in his eye set you ablaze in a way your boy toy wasn’t capable of achieving. Fuck.

You quickly got up and put yourself between the two of them. “This isn’t unnecessary.” You turned to your boy toy with a stern look. “Please, go.”

He scoffed. “Weren’t you just telling me how you hated this guy and—”

BANG! 

A shot went off. It would have hit the guy clean in the face had you not gripped Rick’s wrist and raised his hand to the ceiling. 

“Are you fucking insane?!” You screamed, whirling on Rick and shoving him back. You wrenched the gun from his hand. He just glared at you. “Rick?!”

“Wh… what?” He slurred.

“You…” You trailed off, biting your cheek in irritation. Your boy toy was rendered immobile by his near death experience and when you yelled at him to leave for the nth time, he skeddaled out of the vicinity. 

“You could’ve killed him!” You yelled at Rick once you were alone.

“Mhm, wanted to. Wanted to blow his fucking brains out…” Rick walked back into the coffee table and tripped over it, collapsing to the ground. You sighed and hooked your arm under his, heaving him upright against the wall. “C’mere,” he whispered and grabbed at your indecent nightgown. 

You bat his hands away. They were so warm on your burning skin; you felt unfinished. You were so sure you were going to get laid tonight but then again, when did anything work in your favor recently? “Shut up, I’m not helping you because I’m good with you again. You ruined something good here, do you know that? You ruin everything. Pulling this psycho shit—” you cut yourself off with a frustrated groan and stood up to pace.

Your vitriol went in one ear and out the other. Rick triumphantly watched you search for something to fill the sudden emptiness now that your flavor of the week had been scared off—what a coward, by the way—and finally, both of you were in a bad place. Maybe you’d see that in the life you’d been thrust into, he was the only one to understand. You couldn’t find what he could give you anywhere else, and you’d be stupid to avoid him. 

You, on the other hand, needed a distraction from the ache between your legs and the tug inside your heart. Your eyes drifted to the crystals in the corner. Bingo. 

You dropped to your knees in front of the coffee table and grabbed the bag, knocking it with the base of his gun. The crystals clinked together majestically once they were all ground into a fine dust, like some fairy twinkle sound from a movie. You poured probably half the bag onto the surface and snorted it line after line. 

Your head burst—ecstasy grabbed you by the throat and then released you. The next breath you took in felt like heaven, but the feelings you had didn’t leave you. None of them did; instead, they amplified into something unbearable. The anger, the lonliness, the emptiness, the desire, all wrapped up into something you couldn’t swallow and bury deep within you. It stuck in your throat and threatened to spill out your eyes.

Your whimper made Rick glance up in his stupor, and he hobbled over to where you sat. “How– how much’d you take?” he mumbled, glancing inside the bag. His eyes widened slightly. “Way too much,” he answered his own question and tilted your chin up so he could see your face, thumb swiping some of the crystals from where they stuck to your lips. Your eyes were unfocused, shivering like a blizzard wind had just rolled through the window. 

Focus slowly but surely returned to your eyes. Tears brimmed on your waterline as you shifted beneath him, sniffling to keep your soft cries tucked away in your chest. “Rick,” you mumbled, fingers curling around the gun. 

“Yeah?” He leaned forward. He hoped being high would make you come around. 

“I’m going crazy. I’m– I’m losing my mind.” Your chest rose and fell rapidly; the onset of a panic attack. 

Weird start, but sure. His brows furrowed as he rubbed your back soothingly.

You continued, “You make me miserable, I— I hate you and… but I hate myself more… I just want everything to go back to how it used to be.” 

Okay, now he was getting somewhere. “Re– rea—uuurp—lly? Me too, baby, you just have to say you’re sorry—”

Rick’s manipulative schemes came to an abrupt end when you pressed the gun to your forehead and closed your eyes in relief. He sucked in a sharp breath as he forcibly yanked your wrist back, letting the shot you fired make its mark on the ceiling. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered, the flush of adrenaline still making its way through his body. He had half a mind to cuss you out, but the insults that sat on his tongue refused to fly. 

He despised how looking at you was like looking into a mirror. Why would you do something like that? That was something he’d do. And why should he take care of you if it would teach him how to take care of himself? He didn’t want to be near anything close to healing. His bewilderment made him go still and stupid beside you. 

A moment passed by before he finally pulled the gun from you. At least, he tried to. “Come on, sweetie, give it up.” You stubbornly refused, glaring at him while keeping your iron grip on the gun. He ducked to your level with a sigh. “Look, I get it, okay? I get why… why you’re upset, and this isn’t a fucking apology. Just… be here and be mad.” He’d never be able to be this nice sober, so despite how pathetic he felt, he was relieved he had something in his system to make it all easier. It was what you needed most in this moment.

Your fingers unfurled from the gun and he holstered it on his belt in the next second, making a mental note to keep an eye on you for any risk you posed to your own well-being. 

“You’re the worst,” you mumbled. 

He pursed his lips. Then, “I know.”

Defeated sobs wracked through your body. The high was gone as fast as it came, and it came down hard. And Rick just… watched you cry. 

“Rick, get the— oh.” Morty burst in the room, pausing upon seeing you. “What the heck, Rick!? What’d you do?”

Too many answers for that question. 

Summer wormed her way by Morty with a device in hand. “Grandpa Rick, Mom and Dad are coming up the street.” She studied you closely, an uncomfortable hum leaving her throat. “...Is she okay?”

“Uh-huh, just fine. This– this is good, Summer. Good job.” He took the time device from her and activated it. A pulse spread through the room. “There. All our problems are solved.”

“What’d it do?”

“Go see for yourself.” He nodded to the door and both kids ran outside. Rick got up to follow them, only realizing he was still holding your wrists when he took one step too far and tugged on your unconscious body. 

You were knocked out but still shivering; Kalaxian crystals did that to regular human systems. Rick couldn’t take his eyes away from the pretty tears that dribbled down your cheeks. 

He’d expected you to come back around by now. He didn’t like being under others’ mercy, and what’s worse is that you weren’t doing this to him on purpose. You had no idea how starved he was for your presence, and that made his attachment to you all the more embarrassing and loathesome. 

For how intense you reacted to him in C-137, and no matter what you told yourself or what he told himself, you belonged to him. The minute he saw you serving drinks in The Lounge, you were his. You were in this sorry state because of him, because of what he did to the other people he claimed belonged to him. He didn’t mean to do it; he just did. It was just who he was, and his family accepted that and made infinite compromises so he didn’t have to change. He thought you’d be the same… in a way you were, for a time. But you weren’t budging on this front and he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Rick needed you to need him again. He wanted you to want him. 

He should have left you there on the ground without a care. It’d have meant that he wasn’t wrong doing so at the Citdael.  

…But he didn’t. It was small and you probably wouldn’t care much about it if you were conscious, but it was more for him than you, anyway. He sat back down at your side, providing a buffer between the couch and the floor if you tipped over. 

Rick raised his eyes to the ceiling. Staying was easy. His drunken mind wished he had done it when it mattered.

Her response was a few tones and whirrs for a few seconds. You perked up when you heard a familiar startup sound. “The Citadel’s Sweetheart Initiative was first proposed twenty years ago when there was a successful relationship between a version of you and a Rick. It went so well that every Rick was looking for a you, but the Council didn’t want to attract another omega device incident. They quickly monopolized access to versions of you. It was convenient, as there was a need to incentivize big business Ricks to keep their industries on-world. Eventually, it was used as a reward for working-class Ricks with exceptional performance data. Organic sweethearts were relocated from their dimension to the Citadel, fitted with a chip that would separate their pampered life from their working life, the latter of which is always wiped from memory and reset for new clients. They believe they’ve won paradise through a lottery…”

The information being fed to you wasn’t sending you into a crisis like it did the first time you encountered the concept. You sipped the wine as she went on, like she was narrating a Wikipedia page on the Ricks’ so-called Sweetheart Initiative: The Citadel only keeps a few of you in circulation to promote the exclusivity of the program. They tried cloning you once so they wouldn’t have to go out of their way to capture and reprogram you, but people started to complain that the cloned yous didn’t feel authentic. So on, so forth.

They were all losers so incapable of genuine human connection that they had to manufacture the only relationship that had ever worked for them. That was your takeaway.

“I– I– Is that a sat– satisfactory answer, honey?”

“So satisfactory, Diane, thank you.” You mumbled. Her sweet-talking tone had returned after her spiel, and your distaste for all Rick-related things deepened.

“Somebody’s coming!” Diane sang. You sat up straight, your mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario.

“Where’s my—” you stumbled off the couch. They found you already? “Where’s my gun?”

“Probably in your la– laun– laundry!”

Right. You sped into the bathroom and rifled through the clothes on the ground for the gun you stole off that Rick—primed it once you got it. You hoped the bloodlust you had in the Citadel would return if one of those stupid officer Ricks walked through the front door.

You crept to the entryway and flattened your back against the wall, waiting. Memories of your fight came rushing back and your breath caught in your chest. Were you even capable of something like that again? You thought so. You hoped so?

It took a while for you to register the knock. You heard your name come from somewhere far off—the door creaked open, and a Rick poked through.

“Stop!” You yelled, whirling around and pointing the gun between his eyes. “I’m not going back to that place!”

“Woah! Woah, woah, woah!” Rick’s hands immediately flew up in surrender. “Wh– wh– what’s with this warm welcome? Hello, I’ve come to rescue you!”

“Sure,” you drove the metal deeper into his skin, walking him back outside and kicking the door shut behind you. “Just– I don’t want to fucking see you again! Any of you! Go back home!”

“This is my home, you— are those my clothes?” Rick blinked at your outfit.

You pulled back the hammer, your finger hovering over the trigger.

“Woah— holy shit, calm down! You look good in them!” He said hurriedly, backing away. “In fact, you look so good in them, you should keep them!”

“I was going to anyway, bitch.” BANG! A shot went off.

Rick dropped to the ground the millisecond you pulled the trigger. Before your eyes could track him, he tackled you to the ground by your waist and pinned your wrists beside your head. Concrete picked at your skin while your gun slid across it, out of reach, and though you squirmed under him, Rick didn’t budge.

“When did you grow some balls? It’s me, dumbass!” Rick’s grip on you tightened.

You spat in his face. You couldn’t tell if he was yours. Something in the back of your mind told you he was and the more you thought about it, you knew he was. But you couldn’t tell anymore and that bothered you. You can't believe you liked him at one point. “Get off of me.”

He reached into his coat for his portal gun, eyes narrowing. “You know what? If– If I wasn’t so mad, I’d be so turned on right now. Actually– I think I am.”

You stared at him in utter bewilderment. “...You’re disgusting.”

“You don’t need to tell me, sweetheart. Now, be nice and still for me.” He huffed a short laugh. The hard concrete gave way underneath you and green invaded your periphery. You were not going anywhere if it wasn’t on your terms.

You kneed him in the gut and took his moment of off-balance to flip out from his hold and send him through the portal he put underneath you both. You rolled away as it closed behind him. Phew.

You dusted the gravel from your body as you stood and collected your gun. There were a few scrapes to attend to, but all in all, you were still in good condition. Was that your Rick? You were distrustful of them all, and it clouded your recognition. The others didn’t have your location, so this one had to be yours. 

Whatever. A problem for tomorrow, or never. The neighborhood was quiet again, and you hoped it stayed that way

You stepped back into the house only to get put in a headlock and thrown backwards into a portal. “Hey—!”

“Yeah, how you like that, huh?” Rick grinned against your ear. You both tumbled onto your couch-bed, the portal to relative freedom closing above you.

“Get off!” You elbowed him in his stomach and he recoiled from you with a pained groan. You slipped off his lap and stumbled away from him. The room looked the same—exactly as you remembered it. This was home for sure.

“Geez, why do I even bother with you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he recovered his bearings.

Home was what you wanted; you just wanted it different. On time, by Rick, like he promised he was going to do. You found it funny that he only came after you once you left the Citadel, and that was the place you needed saving from.

His face lit a match to the fire in your belly. You snatched a wine bottle from the ground and broke it on the coffee table. His surprised exclamation didn’t deter you from lunging at him with the intention of driving the sharp end of the bottle into his skin.

“Shit— Fuck! What is wrong with you?!” He yelled as you tumbled on top of him. He twisted your hands awkwardly, causing you to wince and drop the broken bottle. He made the mistake of letting up his grip—you shoved his hands under the weight of your knees and circled your hands around his neck instead.

He tried to flail underneath you, voice raw as he cursed you out. “You idiot, I’m trying— I was—”

“You left me,” you whispered over him. “You promised me and I trusted you and you left me. For days.”

“Needed…” He gasped, eyes fluttering. “Needed to wait for the right time—”

“Bullshit. You forgot about me. You were debating leaving me behind, weren’t you? You were seeing how it’d be like if I wasn’t around anymore. Bet you had some real peace and quiet, huh? Did you like it?”

He glared up at you; his silence told you everything.

“They did something to me.” You continued, pressing closer. He grunted as you put more pressure on your hands and tried to buck you off of him, with no success. “The girls were talking about some brain chip.”

“Didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“The chip… Fuck—”

You released him, watching life come back to his face. He greedily swallowed air. He wormed his hands free but you pinned them down, new strength driven by your anger. “Talk.”

“You’re— you’re really doing yourself a disservice with—fuck,” he coughed, throwing his head back against the mattress. “You don’t know how much I like this shit.”

You seethed. Did he take anything seriously? “I’m not in the mood for games, Rick.”

“Are you sure you’re mine? You’re so assertive and— and, you know. Not a scared little crybaby. My girl actually likes getting all close and personal—”

“I’m not your girl.”

“Yeah, sure.” He laughed hoarsely. “Th– They didn’t do anything to you. Nothing that matters. Whatever they did or didn’t do has no effect on you, thanks to me, by the way. I– I– I put countermeasures on you the night before they came to— to protect you from tampering.”

You shut your eyes to regulate the hell you were feeling right now. He put his tech in you while you were sleeping. You felt so stupid and helpless, as helpless as you did the first night he saved you.

Rick shifted under you, a slow smile growing on his lips. “Yeah, you get it now, don’t you? You’re mad at me—get in li–uuurp—ne. You’re– You’re like the rest of the family; all big and tough, but at the end of the day, I’m the one that got you home. You need me, I’m the only one capable of protecting you, blah, blah, blah. The usual shtick. Do we really have to go over this again? And— and– and you’re soooo lucky Morty is obsessed with you, otherwise I’d have hauled your ass back to the Citadel after this stunt you pulled. Who pulls a fucking gun on the person rescuing them? W– When I decide to save you is my business.”

All you could do was stare.

You climbed off of him and curled your knees to your chest. Breathe, you reminded yourself. You were the one choking Rick, but the deep breath you took felt like the first one in forever.

You had mulled this moment over the entire time you were trapped in C-137. What would you say to him after everything you’ve learned and been through? I hate you. I wish you were dead, I wish I had killed you instead of that random Rick. I wish you had never talked to me. I wish I had never talked to you.

But now that you were here, all the ideas you had seemed insufficient. There was nothing you could possibly do or say to communicate how devastated you felt. How alone, how scared, how angry you were—-are, at him. He wouldn’t get it. He doesn’t care. His little speech made that crystal clear. Whoever he was the days leading up to your kidnapping was a fond memory. 

Rick sat up with a soft wince beside you. He slid to the edge of the bed where you had situated yourself and glanced over. “What?” He was agitated by your silence. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? ‘Cause I’m not. Far from it, actually. While you were in fucking paradise, I was busy making sure I wasn’t subjected to torture for a crime I didn’t even commit!”

You said nothing.

“What?” He snapped, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to face him.

“I…” You trailed off in thought, noting his expectant look past his annoyance. “I just… I don’t even know. I thought you were different.”

He opened his mouth to retort. Nothing came out.

You sighed and stood, dragging your feet out of your room with no further protest coming from him; no snarky comment or savior-esque speech. The weight on your chest felt just like it did in your first days here, and you knew instantly that you were back to square one.

“Hey, y– you– you’re okay!” Morty’s face lit up when he saw you. At least he was here to lift your spirits. You smiled and hugged him, squeezing tighter when you heard Rick leave your room right behind you. He gave Morty a dirty look as he passed by into the kitchen. “W– What’s his problem?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Morty.” You sighed, defeated. “It’s just you and me with that piece of shit, huh?”

Morty’s little laugh was overshadowed by dishes clattering violently in the kitchen and the fridge slamming shut. Rick rounded the corner, his finger already pointed accusingly at Morty. “You know the only reason his– You know Morty’s only nice to you ‘cause you’re the closest thing he has to female attention that isn’t his mom or sister, right?”

“Rick! What the– why would you say that?!” Morty screeched in horror.

“Don’t listen to him, Morty.” You glared over the boy’s head at Rick. “You’re surprisingly well-adjusted for… considering what you’re up against. I don’t mind giving you attention.”

Rick scoffed and rolled his eyes, disappearing back into the kitchen. Morty’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I– I– uh, look, I’m sorry if I—”

“S’okay, Morty.” You pat his head with a sweet smile that he readily returned. “TV?”

[ ]

Rick had the overwhelming urge to do some damage. To himself, to others, to the boxes of scraps sitting on his table—anything would do. His body was warm with the memory of yours on top of him and with his all-consuming frustration. Mostly frustration, or so he told himself.

Your laughter penetrated the garage and he had to will himself against storming in there and yelling at you to shut up. For both of you to shut up—where did Morty get off undermining him?

Were you seriously angry with him for saving you? You weren’t supposed to be picky about when or how. You weren’t even supposed to be aware about any of the multiversal shit going on beyond the crumbs he gave you. It was all a mess, wasn’t it? In the span of a week, you changed from something he could keep on the line to something he didn’t know if he could control anymore. You’d moved past being scared shitless to… whatever you were now. Quick to act. A little bit violent. Anti-Rick. He hated the fact that he was hung up on the last quality more than any of the others.

He expected it to go so differently—you’d see him at the door and be like oh, Rick! I was so scared omg they weren’t like you at all, they were stupid and simple but you’re so smart and complex and that’s why I need you so bad, please take me home and make sure they never ever take me away again! You’re the only one I can bear being around, please protect me! You know, like every single time he came to your rescue in one way or another before the recent run-in with the Citadel. It was rare he felt embarrassed, and he didn’t like it.

He dropped into his chair and idly fiddled with nuts and bolts. There was something about having someone other Ricks wanted without having to go through the due process to get her. He always knew he was better than them, and your attachment to him proved it. He didn’t need a memory chip or a perfect setting—you took him as he was. He was that good of a Rick.   

But there was something better about someone seeing the terrible reality and still choosing to stick by him. It fueled his ego whenever he thought about it. You, knowing that people like him trafficked you for companionship, clung to him like he was your saving grace in the midst of all of it. He remembered how you were in the early days; you refused to leave his side out of fear. He, Rick Sanchez, the smartest and most miserable man in the galaxy, was someone’s sense of peace. Imagine that. The Rickest Rick with the Mortiest Morty and the you-est you. That was how it was supposed to be.

I thought you were different. What kind of statement is that? He was different. He was the most different Rick out of all the dumber versions of him out there. He didn’t like liking people so much; all it ever did was come around and bite him in the ass. So what if he was debating leaving you behind? It would’ve been better for him. In any case, the fact that you grouped him up with all the others pissed him off.

His body felt like it was buzzing and he didn’t get started on drinking yet. Every train of thought ended with you, you, and you. He tried to hate every memory—he hated how your defiance of the Citadel made him feel, how you confiscated a weapon and portal gun in the process… oh, and he certainly loathed the way you made yourself at home in a new random dimension with ease, and especially how you pointed that gun at him so brazenly. How you outsmarted him into his own portal was near the top of the list, maybe just under how you choked him.

He needed to stop thinking about you. He was starting to have a problem.

The chatter in the living room died down. You were telling Morty to go to bed and not to worry about clearing up. Rick spun in his chair at the sound of Morty hiking up the stairs. He should say something to correct this. Things needed to go back to the way they were so he didn’t have to sit with this feeling… like someone stole from him. Like he was craving something he’d never have.

He peeked at you from behind the garage door. You were curled up on the couch with Jerry’s laptop, doomscrolling or shopping or… something. Your head turned and he shut the garage door with a quickness.

Nah. People came, people left. You weren’t any different. He’d get over it.

You were staring at yourself. Not you—a version of you.

“She’s shutting down.”

“Give her a minute.”

Your eyes darted left and right. More yous came into focus, all peering down at you with curiosity. They were wrapped in robes, as if they were going into a spa. With the humidity of the greenhouse, it was fitting. It might as well have been a sauna. There wasn’t a trace of contempt in their expressions. Not one note of sadness.

Your eyes drifted past their heads. Beyond the glass were towers and a few ships whizzing by. Oh, this was it. You were back at the Citadel. You were captive, right? You were taken by the officers and… Rick and Morty were also arrested.

Your brows scrunched. Wouldn’t they have erased your memory before throwing you in with the rest of the lot?

You only realized that you were in a robe, too, when you sat up. There was a bracelet on your wrist, welded to your exact proportions with no clasp in sight. You shook the fog from your head. You certainly remembered everything and you didn’t think—no, you knew the Ricks wouldn’t compromise on that vital step. It’s what their program relied on.

“Are you okay?” Your alternate asked again. She stooped at your side. “It's been a rough journey, hasn't it?” 

You didn’t want to speak to them. Your Rick would be coming for you. Getting attached to any of them would make pretending that everything was okay a lot harder. What if they liked the same things you liked? You’d be reminded that they liked those things and couldn’t do them when you did it. Was Morty meeting his alternates for the first time, too? Would he have the same issues? You could feel his coping strategy becoming less useful in real time. You needed to get out of here.

You patted your pockets.

The alternate at your side gave you a sympathetic smile. “No phones allowed in here! It’s a detox zone. Phones don’t allow you to relax.”

“We haven’t gotten a new winner in forever.” Another you said brightly. Winner?

You didn’t speak.

“She’s shy.”

“Remember when you first arrived? You were the same way.”

Pleasant chatter erupted as your novelty faded. Breath returned to your lungs then, and you shakily drew yourself to your feet and retreated to a corner. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Rick would bust in here guns blazing, grab you, and the portal away. It was really simple when you thought about it—so simple that it just had to happen.

You tightened the robe’s wings around your body. All you could do was wait.

The greenhouse really was a pleasant place now that you had a better view of it. A false paradise for these poor girls. It was a waiting zone before someone called on them. Did they truly believe they were in a legitimate spa? Did any of them even look up? It’d be very tedious to mind-wipe each sweetheart every time a Rick was done with her. And wouldn’t they all witness each other going and coming?

Too many questions. You turned to the wall. Ignorance was bliss and you were trying your hardest to preserve it.

“Hey.”

For fuck’s sake. You sighed roughly.

“I remember when I first came here. I thought it was scary, too.” A new alternate shuffled behind you, leaning back against the wall. This one, shockingly, didn’t look like you at all. You made the mistake of stealing a glance. Once you did, you couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big change to get used to but think about it. The lottery just set you up for life. You never have to worry about money ever again. You get my own place, your own community, and pampering for life. It’s a pretty good deal, you’ll see.”

What the fuck was she talking about? You shouldn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss, but your curiosity was just that much stronger.

“You, uh…” You cleared your throat. Your voice was weak, as though you were finding it for the first time in forever. “How’d you learn about the lottery?”

“Oh, easy. It was being advertised… somewhere. Can’t really remember. But it was like, ‘forget your worries forever’ or something like that. I know for sure it was offering some futuristic tech thing to absolve whatever was going wrong in my life. And if we’re anything alike,” she bumped into your side playfully, “you know how hard we had it. No family, no friends, a shitty job and an even shittier landlord. Life sucked.”

You smiled a little. You could relate to that.

“I entered and won, got brought here. I thought it was a long shot, but it was so worth it. We still have to work, but we don’t even have to remember that!” She laughed like it was the most amazing thing in the world.

Your smile faltered. “Don’t have to remember?”

She giggled and tapped her head. “Chip in the brain separates work life from this life. So whatever our work troubles are, we’ll never have to bear them again. Our job is just to enjoy life right in here. Like we deserve, right?”

No. No one deserved this, no matter how bad their job was back home. This had to be way, way worse.

You felt like throwing up. Her expression fell slightly when you didn’t respond right away.

“Right,” you chirped quickly.

She immediately brightened. “Don’t be shy, okay? We’re all in this together.” She skipped off back into the main area.

You should’ve kept your mouth shut. You regretted every time you asked for answers. Ignorance was bliss and you feared you’d never find bliss again. Did they put a chip in your brain? If you stepped outside of this paradise, would you be wired to find a Rick or something? That had to be the ‘work.’ And what about the fact that you all looked alike? Was that something they ignored as well?

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Fuck Rick. You needed to get out of here before you lost your mind. You didn't go through all that shit just to succumb to the system in the end. 

There were two things you needed. An exit from the greenhouse and a portal gun. Ricks were roaming all over the Citadel, each with their own portal gun. It shouldn’t be hard to swipe one if you got the chance, especially if they thought you were ‘working.’

You stewed in your corner. Suddenly, everything around you was stupid. It was all a cage for the unfortunate bird these monsters found pretty.

You hated Rick Sanchez.

You pushed off the wall and strolled along the perimeter. It’d be stupid to ask anyone—that’d raise some red flags. Why would anyone want to leave paradise?

A moment went by and a thought popped into your head: the greenhouse was made of glass. You just had to decide if you were that crazy. One look down at the ships regularly flying below solidified your choice. You needed to recognize who you really were to these Ricks. They treated you like shit but you were important to them nonetheless. They went to great lengths to bring you here, so they wouldn’t kill you. You were a challenge for them to solve, not a nuisance to kill off.

Okay. You were really doing it. You made sure there was good enough traffic coming as you took big steps back and aimed your trajectory to the edge of the nearest window panel. You heard glass was weaker near the corners and you hoped it wasn’t some bullshit.

In the next second, you surged forward, legs pumping as fast as your legs would take you. You folded your arms around your face as you hit the glass. It broke and you tipped over into the manufactured air of the Citadel’s dome.

You didn’t spare a thought for your small victory, or for the screams of terror that came from your alternates above. The minute you tasted the outside air, the bracelet (thought it might be more accurate to call it an arrest monitor) fizzled on your skin and shocked you. You hissed and rolled it down your hand. It burned, but not any worse than the fucking shock. You weren't birds to them; you were dogs.

You landed on a spaceship with a thud. Adrenaline made any pain nonexistent.

You caught the eye of the Rick behind the wheel, noting his surprise. He was already slowing down, thank goodness. You knelt in front of his windshield and smacked it weakly. “Help,” you croaked. 

His windshield popped open at your request. Before he could ask what the hell was happening, you lunged for his side and pulled his gun from his belt and shot him five times in the chest. His Morty screamed in horror beside you.

You paused for a minute, surprised by your own quickness to kill. Did this make you a murderer? You were catching on to your own anger, and it occurred to you that you didn’t care. You really didn't give a fuck if he died.

You pushed his body into the back and took his place in the driver’s seat.

“Sorry, Morty,” you said genuinely. He was also a pawn in this stupid game and you meant no harm to him. “I’m really sorry, honey. What’s your dimension code?” You pocketed the gun and fished around for the Rick’s portal gun, the blood on your hands going unregistered.

He was shaking. “U–uhm… umm… I think—”

Sirens wailed above you. “Park the vehicle and come out with your hands up, sweetie. No harm, no foul if you come home,” they announced over their loudspeakers. Their police cars trailed above yours with a spotlight fixed over your stolen vehicle. They weren't quick to strike at you—their mistake.

“Uh– we should park somewhere or– o– or we’ll get arrested!” He whined.

Your eyes scanned the dashboard of the ship. Nearly identical to your Rick’s ship, and you used that to your advantage. You shut the top and stepped on the gas. The ship teetered off its course and crashed into a nearby building. “Oh, fuck,” you cursed. The controls were more sensitive than you thought they'd be.

“Hey! Why the fuck is—” The officer on the megaphone cut himself off and yelled commands to his partners. Their ships revved to life as they sped after you.

Fear settled into your gut. You expected this, but in the moment, you were struggling against shutting down and blanking. Your grip on the wheel tightened, the pain of your skin twisting shocking you back to reality. “Morty, there was a Council hearing, right? Where’s the Rick and Morty that were brought in, are they still in there?” You hated Ricks, but yours showed you he was an exception. You didn’t hate him.

“They— uh, they left. It was a bi– it was a big thing, but they cleared their name, like… um, a few days ago?”

Days. Forget that you were out of it for days, your Rick left you behind for days. Your heart dropped. “So they’ve been gone.”

“Yeah, they—”

“Okay, shut up, I don’t—” You inhaled sharply. That fucking piece of shit. You hated Rick Sanchez. “I’m sorry, thank you for telling me.”

“... You’re welcome?”

Your foot slammed onto the gas, cutting through the buildings in your way and leaving behind a perfect, flying saucer-shaped hole in every one of them. The officers were kicking up a fuss on your bumper, but one glance at the rearview mirror showed you they didn’t activate any weapons. You wanted to laugh. None at all, like they expected you to give up your silly chase. It was probably fun for them, those sick assholes.

“Morty, what’s your dimension code?” You asked again. You kept a hand on the wheel while you gripped the portal gun with renewed purpose. The Morty quickly rattled off letters and numbers. You saw your Rick do this more times than you could count, and you input his answer with ease. You shot the portal onto the backseat and nodded to him. “Go.” He was quick to obey you, and the portal closed behind him.

It was just you and the dead Rick on the ship. You stared at the portal gun and it struck you—you didn’t know what your code was.

“Come on, come on,” you whispered to yourself, racking through every crevice of your brain for something that would reveal your dimension code to you. C-137 was the only thing rising above the noise. Rick C-137. That had to be an identifier.

It was the only thing you had at this point. Your fingers flew over the portal gun and you shot the portal on the passenger seat and promptly climbed through.

You dropped into the Smiths’ garage. Holy shit, it worked. You were hopefully far from the Citadel and without a portal gun left behind, any record of what dimension you escaped to was out of their hands.

Your palms gathered the oil and dust from the concrete floor as you pushed your chest off the floor. The familiarity of everything made tears brew along your waterline. He promised. You might have been stupid to believe him, but you made it home anyway.

You became aware of the unnaturally organized workbench, the … giant blueprint on the wall, the neatly packed shelves and drawers.

This was not the Smiths’ garage.

Fuck. If you were right and C-137 was a dimension identifier, that meant that your dimension wasn’t your Rick’s home dimension. This one was. Now that you thought about it, he did mention something about moving between dimensions when he first met you. But it was so unlike him. It was well-ordered and looked like every invention followed a streamlined workflow. Blueprints were rolled neatly and tucked away in the corner. Back home, Rick’s ideas just spawned and he dealt with them there and then.

The adrenaline was wearing off. You were starving. Walking around the bench, you almost tripped on the dip in the floor. It looked like something had crashed there or exploded. Whatever it was, Rick survived it.

A step further and you bumped into a button hanging from the ceiling. A holographic scene came to life, one with two Ricks. It happened so fast, you didn’t even catch what they said.

“Rick, is that you?”

You froze in your tracks. Someone else was in the house. A woman who clearly knew Rick, and if you put two and two together, it was either a mother, girlfriend or a wife. She sounded young, though.

“Did you find our daughter’s killer?”

What?

You felt like you were intruding on something you were never meant to know, but morbid curiosity drew you further into the house. “Sorry, I’m not Rick. Just a friend of his, we… work together?”

“Oh! It’s a wonder he made any friends after killing his family!” When you didn’t respond, she continued. “I’m sorry, dear! It was hardly his fault. I’m p– p– programmed to remind that old man of everything he did wrong!”

“Oh” was all you said.

This was all a mind fuck. A robot voice to remind him that he killed his family? He loved Beth. At least, you thought he did. You didn't know what to think now, but you were sure the Rick you knew wasn’t capable of killing his daughter. Then again, you thought he wouldn’t leave you behind, and here you were.

You had your fill of questions and answers for the day.

“I came here by accident.” You started slowly. “I’m starving. Is there food or…?”

“S– s– sorry, honey! Just alcohol, and it’s locked away!”

Of course.

The robe you had was scuffed and disgusting. The soft fabric was now crusted with dirt and blood. Shit. You had blood on your hands. You… killed someone. You were angry. It made sense then. You knew you did what you had to do, but as the blinding rage subsided, your proper conscience returned to bug you according to your morals. It still made sense, it still felt good, but… it unnerved you. You unnerved yourself.

“Shower and clothes?” You asked next.

You were directed to the bathroom. The house was musty. Dust floated through the air and infiltrated your lungs against your best efforts. You were almost reconsidering using the bathroom.

“So, tell me! How do you know my honey bear?”

“Uhh…” you trailed off. You didn’t expect to have a conversation with an AI while having a shower. You hoped it didn’t have some sort of visual on you while you were naked under the water. “He rescued me. Once.”

“Oh, good for him! He did it for someone, at least!”

You winced. What happened here? “How… how do you know him?”

“He’s my husband, si– si– silly girl!” The voice sang. “Or he was! He stood by while I was murdered, so I guess he's nobody's husband anymore!”

You shouldn’t have asked. You should not have asked. This was horrible; you understood nothing. And you didn’t want to know anything anymore. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t apologize! It’s only one man’s fault. There are clothes in the bedroom!”

You hated Rick Sanchez and the crazy world he lived in, and you hated him even more for bringing you into it.

[ ]

“Can we please go get her?” Morty whined.

Rick rolled his eyes. Morty was a far more annoying loiterer than you ever were. “I told you, Morty, we—”

“I– I– I don’t give a shit about your reason, Rick! You can handle a simple rescue, ca– can’t you?”

“We just got off the Council’s watchlist, and– and you wanna go back and give them a real reason to fucking arrest us?” Rick snarled, pushing his grandson out of his garage. “Ge–uuurp—get out.”

Morty put his foot down and held the door open. “No. I won’t– I won’t do adventures unless she comes back!”

“Morty,” Rick groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, buddy, come here.” He brought his grandson to a cluttered corner. He swiped pages and tools away in search of a screen. “I’ve been tracking her all this time. For the– for the past few days she hasn’t moved an inch from the waiting zone– where the fuck is it?” He snapped and, in one big swipe, cleared the countertop of all the shit he’d thrown there.

“Here,” he grabbed a screen, not bothering to look at it before he showed Morty. “She’s just fine. When they least expect it and when they aren’t so eager to be on my ass, we’ll go get her. Is– is that okay with you, oh great leader?”

“Uh, Rick?” Morty frowned. “It’s not showing her in the Citadel.”

Rick turned the screen back to him, his blood going cold when he saw your location.

Morty shifted nervously, put off by Rick’s unnatural silence. “R– Rick?”

“Shut up, Morty. I’ll– I’m taking care of it, okay? You win.” Rick threw the tablet away, muttering curses to himself as he got his hands on his portal gun.

He hesitated to shoot a gateway.

Morty’s brows knitted, confused by Rick’s odd behavior. Since when did he think before jumping into any sort of portal?

“Fuck.” He whispered. He shot the portal and disappeared through it.