#soft rick

Morty felt his palms sweat as he went to that damn world again. He looked around. He hated it. He hated seeing everyone mourn their "king" did they even know what kind of sick fuck he was? Why did Morty even let Rick drag him here? Why did he have to be a puppet? Why couldn't he just think for himself for once in his goddamn life? Rick was right. He really was just a piece of shit. He kept seeing Rick sneak glances in his direction. Did he really think Morty wouldn't notice? How stupid did he think Morty was? Rick said "You sure you're ok being here?" Morty crossed his arms "Will my answer matter either way? You won't care. You just need your human camouflage." Rick jolted "Jesus Morty, who pissed in your cheerios this morning?" Morty rolled his eyes "Just shut up Rick." And Rick did. He finally did something Morty wanted for the first time in his entire goddamn life. In the 6 years they've known each other, he only did something Morty wanted now. What an amazing grandpa. Morty scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Then Morty stopped in his tracks when he saw a statue of Mr. Jellybean. A million thoughts were running through his head. He breathed heavily and quickly started hyperventilating. Rick stopped, looked back at Morty, and quickly ran back to Morty, leaning down to his eye level as his voice softened "Morty?" Morty felt tears form. Rick reached his hand out "Morty are you ok...?" Rick's voice became drowned out. Tears started streaming down his cheeks, the flashbacks hitting him like a slap to the face as he muttered under his breath "N- no...no...no....no....no....no..." He remembered Mr. Jellybean slamming his head into the sink and saying "Stop fighting me! Just let this happen." His chest rose and fell as his heart was beating so fast, Morty thought it might explode. He roughly grabbed his hair. He couldn't stop remembering it. He remembered Mr. Jellybean shoving him onto the toilet "Stop being such a fucking tease you sweet little twat!" Morty started roughly pulling his hair, desperate to stop reliving it, he started muttering under his breath "Please...no....I-I don't...I don't want this....stop...please...."

He felt something touch his shoulders, then he heard a voice cut through "MORTY!" He remembered the way Mr. Jellybean messaged his shoulders and he pushed the person, roughly, to the ground "DON'T TOUCH ME!" He saw that he just pushed Rick to the ground.

After finishing her lesson with Daryl, Hannah realized there was only one thing she wanted to do. She desperately wanted to tell Carl about it. She didn't want to brag to him or make him feel bad for not showing her himself, instead, she just wanted to share something with him. Hannah thought back to the day earlier, how she had tried to muster the courage to see him. It seemed like such a delicate thing to her, visiting him. She had never seen him as vulnerable as he was on that gurney. She hated seeing him like that. From where she was standing, Hannah could see the Grimes house. It had a still, sullen feeling to it. Carl didn't deserve to be holed up there, by himself most likely. Even if he didn't want it, he deserved company.

Hannah once again found herself outside of Carl's house, hands pressed against the wood of the door. After a final moment of contemplation and a deep sigh, Hannah knocked gently on the door, only loud enough for the first floor to hear. She had wanted it to be louder, not knowing if Carl was the only one home, but it proved to be just enough when the door was pulled inward. Rick stood just a few feet in front of Hannah, his eyes tired. Hannah hadn't spoken to him since Carl was hurt. She didn't know what to say.

"Hi, Hannah," Rick spoke with a soft smile on his lips. He pulled the door farther, an invitation to enter. Though, Hannah continued to stand just outside the threshold. If she went in, there was no going back.

"Hi, Rick," She said, finally allowing herself into the house. She had never been inside Carl's home, only being able to see it through the window on the night of Rick's trial. It was just as she expected though, the furniture seemingly untouched, a few photo's pinned to the wall, and a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on the counter.

Hannah stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of where to go. Rick moved back to where he had been before she nocked, sitting at the counter eating his sandwich.

"Can I get you anything?," He asked across the room, food still in his mouth. This prompted Hannah to move closer, now standing in the kitchen with him.

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure? We've got some fresh strawberries," Rick seemed to know that she hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. She didn't want to intrude, but she could see that he wanted her to. He wanted to do something for somebody.

"Um," Hannah thought, "Yeah, okay. Thank you."

Rick immediately stood and made his way to the fridge. While he pulled out a small container of strawberries, Hannah sat in the chair, her arms resting on the cool table.

"Here," Rick handed her a small white bowl filled practically to the brim with strawberries. Hannah smiled.

"We had to get rid of 'em anyway," Rick said as he sat down, seeing her face.

The two sat quietly as they ate their food. The strawberries were a little mushy and she could tell they had been in the fridge for a while, but Hannah appreciated it nonetheless.

"Thank you for helping me the other day," Hannah said as she ate, not quite looking Rick in the eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after I fell asleep in the infirmary, I woke up on the couch. I just, I appreciate you doing that for me,"

Rick put his sandwich down on the plate in front of him, looking at her.

"Of course, Hannah,"

After each finishing their food, Hannah offered to clean the dishes for Rick, though he immediately refused.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind," She said.

"It's fine, I promise," Rick chuckled softly at her need to help. He took the plate from in front of her and brought it to the sink, only dropping it in. He turned back, his hands resting on the countertop. There was a short silence.

"You should talk to him," he spoke, almost randomly.

"What?" Hannah asked.

"Carl, he doesn't really talk to me anymore, but I think you should try," Rick clarified.

The admission shocked Hannah. She could see the worry that had been set on his face since that night. He was desperate now.

"Are you sure?" Hannah asked.

Rick wiped his hands across his pants and nodded, giving Hannah a soft, sad smile.

"He likes you, Hannah. I can tell."

---

Hannah had never been in Carl's room. It was odd, seeing as he'd been in hers. It's not like either one of them explicitly said she couldn't be in his room, but he also never offered. However, now Hannah wished she had been there before. Now did not seem like the time to go barging in.

As she walked up the stairs, Hannah took notice of more pictures pinned on the wall. None of the pictures had frames, but each one was tacked into the wall with a push pin. Most of the heads were red or white, but one, holding up a photo of a family, was pinned with a purple tack. Hannah didn't want to snoop, but she knew Carl was in the photo. She had to see it. After quickly checking to see that Rick couldn't see her, Hannah stepped closer to the picture. Now she could see that, similar to her own photo, there were three people: A much younger Rick than the one standing in the kitchen, his beard less scruffy and his eyes brighter; a young boy who Hannah immediately knew was Carl by the hat on his head, the same one he always wore; and a woman who's shoulder Rick has his hand lazily draped over. Hannah looked closer at the woman. She had dark brown hair, not much longer than her own, and a wide, bright smile. Hannah had wondered before about Carl's mother, but it was clear now who she was. She looked just like Carl, Hannah thought. It made her happy to see him like this. This is what he deserved, a nice family, in a nice house, with only smiles on their faces. Never ever blood.

Hannah pulled herself away from the picture. If she didn't talk to Carl now, she was sure she never would. Finding herself in the hallway, Hannah wasn't sure which room was actually his. There were three doors, all exactly the same. None of them had any indication of a child, a young boy, living there. That is until Hannah realized that only one was shut. All of the doors in the hall were at least held slightly open, but the one on the far end was shut completely.

Going up to the door, Hannah let herself knock just slightly. She tried to listen into the room but heard nothing. She knocked again, a little louder this time.

"Dad, it's open!" Carl yelled out from inside. Hannah gasped slightly. She hadn't heard his voice in what felt like forever. It was nice to hear his voice, she thought.

Hesitantly, Hannah reached for the doorknob, turning it as if it was glass. When she stepped in she was met with Carl on his bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, a comic book in his hands. His head was low, his long hair covering the injuries that Hannah knew were there.

"Um, hey Carl," At this, Carl's head snapped up, realizing who had nocked. Now Hannah could see his full face. There was a bandage on his face, much neater than the one she had seen that night. Just as quickly as he had looked up, though, Carl put his head right back into his book. He said nothing.

This was a horrible idea, Hannah thought. Of course he hated her, it was her friend who shot him. She was the one who had started their fight. She was too weak to stop Ron. Of course he hated her. Hannah didn't know where to start. Should she tell him she was sorry? Should she just leave? Why wouldn't he just look at her again?

"Carl? How are you doing?" Hannah cringed at the sound of her voice. It was too soft, too uncertain. Carl didn't respond. "I, uh, I was hanging out with Daryl earlier," She paused, waiting for a reaction, anything, "He, uh, he showed me how to use his bow. It was pretty cool," Carl still said nothing. Now the words began to flow, "It was pretty heavy, you know," Hannah chuckled softly, nervously, "But he, uh, showed me how to hold it and how to load it and all that. And I shot a few apples too." Hannah stopped herself from ranting further, "You would've liked it," She finished quietly. Carl still only looked at his book, not even turning the pages. His jaw was clenched and Hannah could see that his brows were furrowed slightly.

She didn't know what pushed her to do it, what forced her body to move, but Hannah found herself walking towards the bed. Carl didn't move as she sat at the foot of his bed, just as he had the night he came to comfort her. Hannah pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. She could feel Carl's eyes on her now, but she didn't look back. She couldn't.

"I'm really sorry about what happened, Carl," Hannah began to speak again, just above a whisper, "He-- I didn't think he would do that. I didn't think he could." Over the years, Hannah knew Ron had grown angry, but she didn't blame him. But now, she could see the extent of his hurt. Of course, it had shown itself before, back on her porch when he'd yelled at her, but she didn't want to see it then. Maybe, Hannah thought, if she had noticed it then, she could have stopped this. Maybe none of this would have happened.

Hannah jumps slightly when a comic book lands at her side. It had whipped past her right ear and was now laying open on the floor in front of her. Hannah moved to look back at Carl who now held nothing in his hands. He has a small smile on his face, almost mischievous.

"It's not like you shot me."

Hannah gaped a little at this before letting out a shocked chuckle.

"I guess not," was all she could say. Hannah stood from her spot on the ground. The two looked at each for a moment before Hannah saw Carl move over on his bed. It was an invitation that Hannah gladly took. She crawled carefully onto his bed and sat the same as she had on the floor, now with her back against his wall and her shoulder brushing his. Hannah looked at Carl who only picked at his fingers. He didn't know what to say either. But Hannah could tell there was something he wanted to let out.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Hannah spoke, "If you're up for it, I mean. You don't have to."

Carl scratched his face before saying, "Yeah, okay."

Hannah smiled, standing from the bed. Carl followed behind her.

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Hi Lovelies!! We love some pining and angst don't we?? I really enjoyed writing this chapter and the next one will be a continuation so get ready! I hope you all liked it!!

Isn't Rick so sweet sometimes. What do we think about what he said to Hannah???