Chapter Text
Alright, time to get to actually writing this thing. Once again, I am writing later in the day because I was putting this off, and getting all my thoughts organized, but I’m ready now.
I remember being assigned my first Rick as a pretty empty feeling, I looked around to see my classmates feel some strong emotion, or at least, claiming to. Whether they felt fear, or excitement, or perhaps sad at the prospect of leaving behind all the friends they made through their time at the academy, I found myself unable to relate. I felt empty, not in a bad way, just simply felt nothing. This was something I knew was going to happen, it was what I was made to do. Sure, the idea of fulfilling one's purpose tends to be exciting for many, but I knew that this purpose wasn’t either simple or noble: In a way, it's the worst of both worlds. Yet, I wasn’t dreading it, getting out of the academy and assigned meant purpose, possibly family, finally I wouldn’t be a random clone, but would gain an identity through my new life and my new Rick.
I don’t remember my first Rick’s dimension number, I’ve never been good at remembering numbers, and I especially struggle remembering it when I’ve met so many Ricks with so many different numbers. There wasn’t much that stuck out about this Rick, except for the fact that he was terribly depressed, even by Rick standards, he was depressed past self hatred and past anger. I’m going to call him Lazy Rick for the sake of convenience, it's much shorter than Depressed Rick and Depressed Rick is a bit of an oxymoron. But I hope I’m making it clear his actions were past laziness, it astounds me to this day he had enough strength to fill out the paperwork to be assigned a Morty, let alone get out of bed to pick me up from the academy.
Lazy Rick gave it to me straight the moment he picked me up, he told me “look, I- I’m not gonna take you on any ‘classic Rick and Morty adventures’ or whatever crap they teach you in that stupid school, I just need you to pretend to be this Morty, typical Morty, your already given memories should do fine, alright? I’ve been staying at the Smiths because I- I’m too busy being a genius to bother with housing, but hearing them whine after that damn Morty got hit by a damn bus or- or car or whatever is driving me crazy… And you know, I- I need the mindwaves or the government is gonna be up my ass… so… so I just need you to pretend to be this family's Morty, okay? Don’t even bother telling them the truth, they all think you have brain damage from that accident so no one will believe you, okay? This- this is a miracle in disguise, you won’t be- be having to worry about me, I’m gonna stay in the garage, you can live your teenage life kissing girls and- and watching Youtube reaction videos or whatever, so… You’re welcome.”
All that came out of me was a confused little “okay.” I wasn’t expecting such a long rehearsed speech the moment we met, I suppose in typical optimistic and naive Morty fashion, I expected at least a “hi I’m Rick from dimension so and so” or what not. The Rick took this as a confirmation, and before I could think further, grabbed my hand and dragged me through a portal to my new home, his grip uncharacteristically light, in hindsight, he was likely simply too mentally exhausted to feign anger, but I took this as a sign of companionship back then.
I’ll be honest with you, if there’s anyone reading this to be honest with, it was a nice week, perhaps one of the best I’ve had with a Rick in my life looking back on it. No longer did I just remember the high school and home life of a random Morty somewhere throughout the cosmos, but I finally got to live it myself. Even better, it was without the bullying and neglect: Everyone thought I got into that accident and got brain damage so they all were extra nice to me, even paying me more mind now that they realized they could lose me, or rather, Morty. Lazy Rick was true to his word as well, I hardly saw him as he spent almost every moment of his life locked in the garage, and he never left the house or wanted to talk to me or anybody.
Don’t get me wrong, I, especially back then, had qualms about taking the place of a dead boy then taking his life, family, and friends. On top of that, I still felt alone deep down, the only person who knew the truth about who I really was was Lazy Rick and he hadn’t talked to me in full sentences or really at all since I moved in. It was a life most Mortys would kill for, I have enough experience to know that now. At the time, though, I took this for granted.
I’d have a phase every so often where I’d keep trying to tell everyone I wasn’t ‘their’ Morty before giving up and deciding it would be a better use of my time to try and use this as a chance to get close to this universe's Jessica, but Summer knew. Summer would always give me this look when I said it. Unlike Beth she saw Rick for what he was, and unlike Jerry she was willing to accept the idea even though it challenged her view on the world. Summer never spoke up if she thought this, she’d seem to process the information before deciding against saying anything at all, possibly learning better than to try to interfere a long time ago.
Eventually I succumbed to my guilt, or I don't know if I’d call it guilt, it was this primal fear or dread, the idea of being a fraud so thoroughly ate at me, sure, I finally had the affection from a family like I craved and a life of my own rather than being just another Morty, but it wasn’t mine, it was coveted. There was only one person who could love me as me and not for who they thought I was, and it was Lazy Rick. After a week of working up the nerve, I knocked on the garage, and he opened the door. He stared at me with this bored and dead expression, we both knew what I was going to say and I knew he knew.
“Don’t- don't bother even telling me, kiddo, I already know” he said, already groaning at the inconvenience, his use of the word kiddo making me perk up for a moment like a dog begging for attention. After Rick massaged his temples, he seemed to see right through me. I won’t forget the look in his eyes, they looked devoid of life, like a walking corpse. “Listen, don’t worry. It’ll be over soon” he added at the end, and I backed up in fear, worried this meant he was going to kill me.
“What?” I asked, confused, and before I could ask more, he slammed the door in my face. I stared at the door for a long time, just processing the interaction before I had to ask myself whether I should try to get in to ask him what he meant, or simply leave him be. I decided to leave him alone in the end, and I walked up the stairs.
The next day was Friday, it was just like every day before then, I went to school, Beth and Jerry were overly nice, and Rick didn’t show up to breakfast, typical.
Then Rick wasn’t at dinner, either. Beth hated to try to bother him, but she said he hadn’t come out for lunch, either. She gave me a plate and told me to knock on the door and try to get him to get something to eat. He’d listen to me, supposedly.
So I did as told, I knocked on the door, and I got no answer even after much waiting. I tried the doorknob just to say I did, and surprisingly, it opened. I pushed the door and saw red before anything else, then I truly saw it.
Rick dead, gun still in his limp hand, blood and brain decorating the wall in splatters. I heard the plate I was holding shatter, and felt a broken plate on my foot, as well as the food that once sat on the plate for a man now dead in front of me. I stared once again for a long time, but this time, I’m not sure what I was thinking. Perhaps I hadn’t thought about anything at all.
Beth eventually walked over after hearing the plate shatter, and then she screamed. Something to the same effect happened to Jerry and Summer.
The thought made me feel guilty, but once I stopped feeling bad for Lazy Rick all I could ask was what would become of me. Would I be stuck as a fraud in this home that was not mine? Lazy Rick was my only hope, the only one who knew my secret, even if he never talked to me, I was alone without him.
In hindsight, even now, I seem to hold some sort of irrational attachment. I mean, why did I give him an alias? Why call him “Lazy Rick” and not just Rick? There's only one Rick in this story, why bother giving him a special nickname? The only reason could be that I just wanted to call him something that didn’t group him in with every other Rick. I don’t know his dimension number, or much about him at all, but I guess I wish I did, I wish I could humanize him for you, and for me. I wanted that bond with him, I cherished the rare moments of kindness. Then, in a blink of an eye, with no warning, he was gone.
I should’ve known, I thought. He said it would “be over soon.” He clearly meant I wouldn’t have to be his Morty anymore because he’d be dead. I’d be assigned somewhere else, perhaps somewhere I could feel less like a fraud. This realization killed me, not only did that mean I could’ve stopped him, it meant the Citadel was going to get me, taking me away from the Smiths, taking their son away from them a second time. It would be revealed I stole the life of their dead little boy.
I’ll try to describe the scene but it’s all blurry and it happened awfully fast, in a way, it already was going fast. Jerry puked on the floor and immediately ran off, meanwhile Beth and Summer seemed frozen like me. Beth, surprisingly quiet, went off to drink before even going near the body, and Summer put her hand on my shoulder. Summer looked wide eyed and emotionless, and quietly asked if this meant I would be leaving, too. I stared back, I couldn’t speak, and she took that as a “yes.”
There was a commotion for a while in the house, meanwhile me and Summer stayed quiet until a Citadel employee entered. Beth ran at the sound of the portal, thinking or hoping it was her father, but of course, it wasn’t, it was the man who would finally take her son for good.
I wonder sometimes if I could’ve stayed there if I asked, but when my true identity was revealed to the Smiths, they went quiet. At the time, I took this as disgust at me, but now I wonder if it was merely shock, perhaps I could’ve stayed, maybe I would have been welcomed. But no one stood up for me when they took me away, and perhaps that’s proof enough I was never truly their son.