Morty stared at his grandfather for a long, silent moment, an action that some would consider invasive or awkward – and so it might be, even in his opinion, as he knew all of his quirks weren’t exactly average – listening to Rick’s words as well as watching every movement while he spoke them, attentive to any strange inflections or body language that he should have been aware of. This was a man he hated enough to take an attempt on his life, yet the strange aspect of forgiveness rung through his mind like a buzzing fly. Who was he? What position did he hold in regard to his own, seemingly only remaining family?
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard Rick ask him a phrase as a question before, not hesitate, let alone seem to be at a loss for what to say. With a slight tilt of his head he showed he was listening intently, clearly digesting everything that was said in his direction. Naturally, every word and behavior struck him with confusion while he digested them for what they were. For a moment, he mulled over his own vocabulary in his mind before he spoke aloud, as he’d learned to do.
“It has been a while, indeed,” he spoke precisely, but he couldn’t quite place the feeling that lied beneath those words. Time was an eternally lingering, yet farfetched concept, only bound by certain scientific laws such as aging and evolving, among a plethora of other constructs that depended on where and when they were, what time and space boundaries they existed within. A fair amount of time had passed, and his eidetic memory latched onto the calculation down to the minute, glancing away in a moment of feeling dismal over the matter.
He’d tried all his life to communicate with Rick, and now was his opportunity to do it the way he felt as though he needed to from the start.
“Thank you,” he said in appreciation to the aspect of looking better as he’d clearly made the attempt to clean up his act.
“I suppose I could say the same to you.” Rick’s differences were definitely visibly noticeable to him, but there was something about his change in his behavior that Morty appreciated. Perhaps it was the softness in his eyes, the way his facial expressions softened compared to the stone-cold glares he’d witnessed throughout his childhood, or the way his shoulders weren’t so stiff, cuing him to relax his own – whatever it was, he finally gave way to trying to adjust to them. It. Him. The person that had seen and experienced so much more than he could imagine, that had finally requested to see him and for nothing more than a dinner and a reunion far away from home, and thus their history; hopefully with no strings attached.
With his vision returning to Rick’s the suggestion of his age plucked at the corners of his lips with a feeling that was unfamiliar, and though the smile was slight, he was sure it would be noticeable even to Rick alone. Through his time weaving in and out of his own ego, sense of self, and everything around and in-between, he thought he owed it to himself to take pride in the fact he was older. Wiser, more experienced, as he’d learned his own hardships and thus changed his own outlook, something that helped him appreciate Rick’s attempts, as awkward and disoriented as they were.
“I sure am.” There were differences in Morty, as well, such as the fact he spoke with pride, but not a boosted ego of false beliefs and expectations; harsh realities and events had visited him in their time apart, and if Rick paid attention, he’d notice the slightest softer cadence in his voice, and the way he didn’t lift his chin with his posture as if he were above all others. He looked at Rick as if they were equal, as they were in flesh and blood, and so he thought the interaction deserved the same respect he’d been given.
“But I suppose it sounds a bit awkward on the tongue.” Another new fluctuation to his voice that indicated the hint towards a joke, though his tone was still mostly flat, the indication that he was still practicing acting outside of his typical mannerisms.
“Thank you for the gift, by the way.” Manners weren’t new to him, but the genuine honesty behind them was, and it showed in the way his jaw still twitched, threatening to bring back the stubborn tics of his stutter that he’d trained so hard to leave long forgotten.
“It has come well in handy.” Finally, his vision traveled down to look at the menu in front of him, quickly skimming the drinks as he immediately made a decision, opening the next fold to scan over the options with his usual incredible speed, finding what he’d wanted in the span of four seconds and another page-flip, returning it to its front cover before he set it back down again and returned his attention to Rick.
His heart raced and the air felt thinner as tension tightened the muscles throughout his body, but he mentally ruled out the anxiety, letting himself relax again before he spoke once more.
“My overall well-being has clearly fluctuated, but I am trying my best to do better now.” Trying was an indication that he wasn’t necessarily doing too much better compared to before, but it was evident he’d been putting forth the effort.
“Despite my attempts at isolation, those that mattered most still contacted me, including you. Now I have a dog nearly larger than I am, a pleasure that’s accompanied me since Christmas day. I still owe Bill a statement of gratitude, but perhaps you can pass along the message. I named him Hades, as something he might appreciate,” he continued, his eye softening while he fondly remembered his new animal companion waiting back home.
“My sister must have picked up on my personal interest in androids as she sent me one of her own creation, which has helped me immensely. Including the bike you gifted me, I’m not sure I could show enough gratitude for what has now become a rather fitting lifestyle for myself.” While his heart felt heavy, the weight seemed to lift at the pure sentiment of honesty alone.
“I have experienced great pains and many pleasures, maybe too many for someone my age. I suppose that is why I appreciate the aspect of adulthood, but I know I still have a long way to go.” Morty knew that Rick knew humankind never reached full biological adulthood until about 25, and the aspect of tracking years was but a cultural one; still, he was grateful that Rick noticed at all, let alone mentioned such a thing.
“What about you? Still living at the cabin, I assume?”
The change in Morty’s demeanour was obvious, and while Rick didn’t wish to make his Grandson feel like he was being scrutinised, he couldn’t help notice the changes in him; the boy was speaking more confidently yes, but even more importantly; he was communicating comfortably; there was no trace of grand standing, nor guardedness. Rick sensed an openness beyond mere formality, beyond the need to converse, no, this was different, as if Morty wanted to tell him about his life rather than simply feeling obliged to. The difference is stark and admittedly Rick is so taken aback that he can do nothing more than simply sit in silence, listening as Morty talks about so many different things seemingly all at once, clearly compelled to provide Rick with a summary of that which has been most important to him, pausing, it seems, only for breath.
“Hades…” The old man gradually repeats with a smile, slowing his pace to slow down Morty’s rate of thought, focussing on one thing at a time. “A good name for a dog, I will pass on your regards to Bill and your thanks.
Staring down at his menu, the old man can’t help but think about how quickly his Grandson has chosen something from it…at an almost inhuman speed - there was a time in his life when Rick believed indecision to be weakness and the old man can’t help but wonder if it is a behaviour he has passed on to the boy. Stubbing out his cigarette, he attempts to stub out the thought and instead re-focusses on Morty’s voice.
“Yes, I’m living at the cabin and like you, trying my best to be better, or some version of better at least…”
Waving over to the waitress for a coffee refill, he rubs his hand through his coarse beard as he considers Morty’s comment that he is looking better. “…turns out that drinking whiskey for breakfast, lunch and dinner for thirty years doesn’t keep you sane it just puts you on the path towards eventual organ failure…” He laughs mirthlessly as he shakes his head, wary of delving too much into their shared past.
“I’m recovering you could say…I’ve built a life for myself that’s worth living…my only regret was that it took this long for me to stop surviving and start living.”
He pauses as he stares at the boy while words he can’t say, stick hard and fast in his throat – it is not his only regret, no, he equally regrets all the times he failed to show his grandson the affection and warmth he most sorely deserved over the past 18 years. Should he say it now, it might sound insincere, regardless of his sincerity; he promised he wouldn’t himself he wouldn’t enter into this meeting with his usual intensity, lest he drive the conversation in a difficult direction.
“We’ve renovated the cabin and the grounds, we have a wild variety of crops and animals, stables…you should come visit sometime…there…there’s always a place for you there Morty, I want you to know that.”