#sawyerwrites

In the stillness of his mornings, Rick couldn’t help but imagine the hands of his Morty decorating his flesh. It was easy to get lost in the idea of Morty’s phantom hands crawling over his greying skin, moving patterns over emerging goosebumps. He clung to the tenderness of Morty’s touch, fingertips pressing into the cotton sheets beneath him, Morty’s affectionate nothings mewling against his ears. Eventually, that tenderness felt forced, no longer having the power to keep Rick incapacitated in the bed.

His Morty wasn’t there, after all. He hadn’t been there for a long time.

Rick longed for a time when he would be greeted only by the cold presence of his empty apartment rather than the dusty cobwebs of his memory.

In an attempt to shake of the ghost of Morty’s embrace, Rick flicked on the lightswitch of his laboratory. The pink fetus-like experiments greeted him, aimlessly floating in their protective chambers. He smiled softly, pressing his fingers against the glass holding the creature closest to him. When he felt like this, it was best to throw himself into his experiments. They felt more like home than his imagination ever did.

The occasional solitude and sanctuary of his workshop was permeated with an unexpected presence. Rick pressed his hand against the back of his neck, tentatively brushing the short raising hairs that he found there. Whilst he had never personally experienced this, he had heard whisperings from the other Ricks and his suspicions were confirmed when he found himself blinking blearily at the sudden appearance of ethereal light from between the many glass containers.

Soon the light faded, and Rick was able to look upon the clothed figure that hovered before him. Although he was usually a level-headed man, - people as smart as Rick didn’t have the option to think loftily - Rick found his breath caught easily in his throat at the sight. He had thought this Morty was a rumour started by some lonely, drug-addled and hallucinating Rick clinging onto some form of spirituality that Rick-kind had long since abandoned.

Rick stepped closer to the being, reaching out his hand but refraining from touching. Scared to touch.

“M-Morty?” He curled the fingers of his outstretched hand into his palm, scowling. It wasn’t like it was his Morty. After all, it didn’t even look like him. Rather than his Morty’s wavy hair, this Morty sported a neat mohawk, and Rick certainly didn’t remember Morty’s hand shining with golden and silver metal.

The silence between them was eventually broken by the rumbling of Morty’s many voices and the whisperings beneath them.

“I felt you through many universes, C-193.”

Rick shuddered at the sensations of many voices pressing against his eardrums. Still, he folded his arms across his chest, as if unimpressed and sullen.

“Well maybe you should - should keep your feelings to yourself, ya’ know?”

Morty seemed to smile, and it hurt to watch.

“Ricks are all the same. No matter what dimension they’re from.” Morty seemed to hover forward, past the containers that separated them. Rick wanted to move backwards, yet something rooted him to the spot. Lifting his metallic hand, Morty pressed it against Rick’s shoulder.

For the first time in a while everything inside of Rick Sanchez was silent. While he was much too smart to believe in the existence of an almighty being, Rick imagined that this was the feeling that God would bring.

Rick sighed softly, turning his head away from the other, willing the moment of vulnerability to pass.

“You,” Morty seemed to pause here; apparently even seemingly Godly beings needed to consider their words carefully. The pause comforted Rick somewhat. “You should really just let go of the guilt, Rick. It’ll be… I mean, Morty’s gone and… things happened. Nobody can change that, so there’s no use in holding onto it.”

“But Morty, I,” Saying his name created an ache inside of him, but Morty’s hand soon smoothed it away with a quick comforting squeeze.

Morty pulled his hand away, leaving behind a vague imprint of serenity.

“You should just switch them off, Rick.” The slightly glowing being shifted his gaze towards the switch that would turn off the tanks’ life support systems. Rick frowned, stepping closer to the panel, lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

“So I just never see my Morty again?”

“You never would anyway. These aren’t your Morty and they never will be.”

“You’re,” For a moment Rick continued to frown before pressing his hand to the top of the lever, rolling his eyes. “I know you’re right, you- you fucking sanctimonious asshole.” Morty’s laugh seemed to come from underneath Rick’s skin, and the presence that Rick felt before slowly faded to nothing but the faint hum of a memory.

Applying pressure, the lever slowly lowered to it’s ‘off’ position. The whirring of machinery came to a slow stop.