Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“R-RICK THEY’RE GONNA BLOW US UP ANY SECOND NOW RICK!!! W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FOR GOD’S SAKE KEEP DRIVING MORTY!”

A dilapidated flying vehicle was zooming through the thick foggy air as it’s garbage-bin engines caught fire, sending it spiraling through the complete and literal warzone occurring around it. Spaceships five times the size of the aforementioned vehicle barreled through the sky, sending beams of red and green light every which way in an attempt to destroy the smaller. A young, anxious, yet adrenaline-ridden teenager gripped the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to steer the hunk of metal, a look of complete fear and desperation written across his face. To the seat next to him was his grandfather, uncharacteristically in a panic as he fiddled desperately with a portal device.

“RICK!”

“HOLD ON A GODDAMN MINUTE!”

Rick was frantically shuffling through coordinates on his portal gun screen. It had enough charge for only one portal, so wherever they happened to land had to be somewhere safe, and somewhere with a portal gun charger. The optimal place would be his garage at his house…..but that wasn’t an option anymore. Luckily, Rick had saved several coordinates of places where he could crash for a bit, but as Rick searched, every coordinate saved on his gun flashed a large red X, signifying the coordinates were either no longer available, relocated, or not safe to enter.

SQUANCHY: Y-657 X
BIRDPERSON: T-837 X
UNITY: U-135 X
CITADEL: R-490 X

“God DAMMIT!” Rick punched the side of the spaceship in frustration.

Suddenly, a beam struck the side of the ship, sending both Rick and his grandson tumbling as the ship spun out of control and plummeted dangerously close to a toppling building.

“I-I-I C-CAN’T CONTROL IT ANYMORE RICK!”

One last coordinate showed up on the portal gun’s index, and Rick stared at it perilously. He hesitated, before slamming a button, opening the dome of the flying vehicle, and creating a portal on the wall of the rapidly approaching building. As the environment around them collapsed, Rick grabbed Morty as they were blown out of the ship and lauched through the portal.

As they flew through the sudden change of atmosphere; namely the absence of smoke and destruction, and the introduction of fresh, clean air and a scent of pine, they had nearly a few seconds to take in the change before making contact with the sturdy trunk of a pine tree very violently. Morty was knocked out almost immediately and, as they hit the ground, Rick needed a solid minute to recover from the impact.

Rick’s ears still rang from the sounds of explosions and beam-fire, but as it faded, the calming song of birds and locusts filled his ears. He looked around, noticing it was very dark. Probably around 2 AM from what he could deduct, yet still very peaceful. The breeze was soft and rippled through the trees, letting off a barely noticeable sound that both calmed and uneased him, as if he wasn’t welcome here.

He suddenly winced from an unknown sharp pain on his backside, and when he brought his hand toward his tailbone, he was cut by something very sharp. He yelped in pain and stood up arduously, examining what it was he had sat on. His face fell when he saw his portal gun destroyed, the bulb on the top reduced to an assortment of glass shards, a couple dripping with fresh blood.

“Shit….” Rick winced once again. Some shards must’ve been lodged in his backside from the impact with the tree. He felt for the shards and painfully wrenched them out until they were all out. Once the initial pain had dulled, Rick admit it felt much better, but his adrenaline was starting to wear thin and the reality of everything that had happened the past hour began to creep up on him.

“Nope.” He said to himself as he sat tenderly next to the unconscious Morty and took out his flask. He brought it to his lips, before squinting and shaking it downwards. Not a single drop fell out.

He sighed darkly, before noticing some lights quite close by through the trees. He made out a worn out shack…

“Bingo….” Rick stared at the shack a moment, seemingly hesitant to head that way, before standing, gathering the fragments of his gun, and shoving them in his lab pockets. He then slung Morty over his shoulder and limped over to the shack.

As he got closer and closer, he saw how much the shack had changed since he’d last been here. It had been called the Murder Hut first of all. Must’ve changed it when he realized how terrible a name that was, he grinned weakly to himself.

When he finally reached the door, he paused before knocking. This wasn’t going to be easy. He hadn’t seen Stanley in over ten years….maybe longer.

He brought his bloodied and cut hand to the door and knocked, gently at first. He waited a moment, before knocking again, a bit a louder this time. Finally, he heard the shuffling of slippers and the unlocking of several locks before the door swung open, revealing a tired looking old man in a stained tanktop and boxer shorts. His sleep-deprived eyes stared at Rick, uninterested for a moment, before suddenly snapping open in surprise.

“Hey uh….Lee….” Rick rubbed his neck with his free hand. “I-I know this is kinda sudden but, uh…..me and my grandson might need to crash here a few nights…”

Stan stared at Rick with wide eyes, blinking rapidly, before donning an uneasy look to his face.

“Sanchez…...I-”

“N-not right now Pines. I-I’ve had one hell of a day a-and this kid weighs more than like, if Orson Welles and John Goodman was mixed together with all the calories in a Big Mac or somethin’.” Rick ranted uncomfortably. “H-he ain’t light is what I’m saying.”

There was a long silence as the two old men looked into the other’s eyes with years of age and memory, before Stan exhaled audibly and opened the door all the way.

“There’s a couch in there.” Stan pointed in the direction of Ford’s old workroom, now Soos’. “And there’s a blanket in the closet.”

Rick gave Stan a thankful smirk and walked inside.

“Thank youuuuuuuu but you left out the alcohol cabinet. W-where’s that at bro?”

Stan stepped in front of Rick abruptly, giving him a stern look.

“Hold on Sanchez. My grand-niece and nephew are in the house….they’re twelve, and as long as they are in the house, no drinking without my supervision okay? I know how you get, and I don’t need those kids seein’ that.”

Rick squinted at Stan, before shrugging apathetically and regaining the tiredness in his eyes.

“Whatever. It’s your house.”

Stan was taken aback by the response, staring as Rick limped over to the room. Stan followed, and watched as he gently lay Morty on the couch and grab a blanket from the closet. As Rick placed the blanket over his grandson, Stan couldn’t help but notice something very off about Rick’s demeanor. Usually the scientist was batshit insane and all over the place, usually he would’ve pressed Stan for the alcohol, usually he would’ve been a giant asshole….

Usually he wouldn’t have come back…..

Something must be very wrong.

“Man take a picture, i-it’ll last longer.” Muttered Rick, crossing his arms and looking directly at Stan. Stan realized he had been staring and shook his head, faking a dismissive smile.

“Heh, uh sorry I’m…..are you ok?”

“A-And what gives you the impression that I’m not?” Rick said somewhat defensively, sitting on the edge of the couch fluffing a pillow.

“Well I mean, for starters, you’re waddling like you broke your ass in half, and secondly, ya didn’t threaten me with a laser gun thingy or somethin’ when I refused to tell you where the booze was.”

Rick gave a scoff and flashed a smirk. This eased Stan a little seeing Rick back to his mischievous side, even if for a moment.

“Well I mean, you-you’re not far off the mark with the broken ass thing.” Rick rubbed his tailbone painfully. “I don’t think I’ll need stitches……..sadly.” He raised his eyebrows mischievously at Stan a moment, before seeing Stan’s uncomfortable expression and looking away, continuing like it hadn’t happened.

“Yeah no stitches needed….but...it fuckin’ hurts like all hell.”

“What happened?” Stan questioned, growing serious and trying to hide his rising resentment with worry. “It’s been years Rick….and suddenly you just show up outta nowhere? Somethin’ bad must’ve happened for you to come back here after….” Stan stopped, not really wanting to bring up the last time they saw each other.

Rick didn’t answer right away, and instead frowned and focused intently on the pillow he had been fluffing. Stan waited impatiently for Rick to respond.

“Well?”

Rick gave a long sigh and scrunched up on the side of the couch, his long legs bunching up to avoid touching Morty.

“Look. I’m tired as fuck, I’m dead-ass sober, and I just had like-like one of the worst days of my life, alright? Cut me a break and let me sleep. We-we can talk more about this shit tomorrow.”

Stan gave a soft grunt, then rolled his eyes.

“Alright fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Screaming. Oh god the screaming. Where was it coming from? Explosions rang out everywhere, and the only thing going through his mind was “Morty” “Beth” “Summer” As innocent people exploded into pieces just inches from his feet, the only thing he could think of was getting his family the fuck out of there.

He remembered grabbing Morty so hard that he had dislocated his shoulder. He remembered watching his daughter screaming out for Summer. He remembered watching Jerry get captured by some aliens. Good riddance, but he had no time to celebrate the loss of his lame-brained son in law, his world was collapsing around him.

Through the blurred haze of adrenaline and fear, Rick had just barely missed pulling Beth and Summer into the flying vehicle before they dissolved into a particle mist of nothing.

There was no time to even mourn, and he remembered screaming “DON’T THINK ABOUT IT!” at the frozen Morty and at himself as he forced the door closed and Morty slammed the acceleration.

Rick shot up from the couch, sweating like he had just run a marathon. His fast, heavy breaths were giving him an oxygen high, and without thinking he desperately tore off his lab coat in search of his flask. He dumped the contents of his coat out in a feverish hunt, before cursing loudly, remembering that it had been empty. Eyes not even taking in his surroundings through his nightmare-induced frenzy, he mindlessly grabbed a ray gun he had shoved in his inside pocket during the attack. His mind didn’t process that the gun was shoved against his temple until he heard the all-too familiar voice of Stan through the wooden door of the room.

“Breakfast’s almost ready! Made your favorite, Stancakes!”

Rick’s mind had suddenly broken out of his frenzied haze and he blinked, slowly noticing the metal against his head and tossing the gun oddly to the floor. He stared at it a moment, catching his breath. A circular indent was already fading from his forehead and he rubbed it awkwardly, trying to take in where he was from his grogginess.

He remembered. He was in the Murder Hut…..er…..Mystery Shack. Stan let him crash here with Morty. Where was Morty? He glanced over to the place where he had lay the boy, only to see a folded up blanket in his place.

Good. He thought to himself. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see Morty yet, now that the initial panic of the catastrophe had passed. It would hurt too much, and Rick wanted to avoid any more pessimistic emotions if he could help it.

God, he was so sober he felt like he had a hangover…..

“Eh? You getting in here sometime today or will I have to give your breakfast to Waddles?” The gruff voice of Stan’s once more traveling to Rick’s ringing ears.

Rick didn’t know what the hell a “Waddles” was, but what he did know that he was hungrier than a starving animal, and the mere thought of food made his mouth water.

“Hold your goddamn horses Lee, I’m coming.”

He put on his labcoat slowly and rubbed his eyes tiredly as he staggered to the kitchen, kicking his gun behind some crap he had tossed out of his coat in his outburst. He’d clean it up later.

As he entered the kitchen, he was greeted with the delicious scent of pancakes and orange juice. Stan was at the stove, flipping pancakes on the frying pan and scatting joyfully to himself. There were two children, around twelve, sitting at the table and wolfing up pancakes while a pig happily ate up the spilled remnants. It was repulsively homely, and it made Rick somewhat sick to his stomach.

“Hey! In case you’re wonderin’ where that kid of yours is, he’s out on the porch. I already fed him.” Stan untied a ratty apron he was wearing and hung it on a hook by the stove.

“Coolsies.” Rick replied boredly.

As he sat down, both of the kids paused their animalistic scarfing of pancakes to look over the new person at the table. Even when Stan set a plate of pancakes and a heaping glass of juice in front of him, Rick’s eyes didn’t leave the kid’s. Rick couldn’t stand their youthful innocence that just REEKED from their eyes, and his bitter mind felt the compulsion to antagonize them. Maybe then they’d quit staring at him with those sickly sweet orbs of light that seemed to stare into his soul.

“Yo Lee, who’re these two ding-dongs?” Rick broke eye contact with the children and pushed his palm painfully to his head. “Shit, my head feels like a-like a fucking firetruck hit it. Got any Ibuprofen or Advil or something?”

“Language Rick!” Stan exclaimed protectively, angrily crossing his arms and ignoring Rick’s question. “Watch your language okay!? This is Dipper and Mabel, my grand-niece and nephew, I’m taking care of them over the summer.”

“Grunkle Stan?” Dipper questioned, placing his fork down and staring up at his great-uncle incredulously. “Who’s this guy? Is he that one kid’s…..Morty’s Grandpa or something?”

“This ‘guy’ is the smartest man in the multiverse kid.” Rick stated coldly with a mouth full of Stancakes. “Rick Sanchez? Lee ever tell you about me? No? Not at all? Fuckin’ typical. Where’s the Ibuprofen?”

“Sanchez can you please stop swearing in front of Dipper and Mabel?” Stan wore a large frown on his face.

“God ok WHATEVER Lee. When did you get so lame?” Rick took an obnoxiously loud sip from his orange juice. “All I wanted was some damn aspirin.”

Stan reached into a cabinet and almost chucked the bottle at Rick. “When I actually grew up Rick. You could learn somethin’ from that. And take TWO Sanchez!”

Rick had emptied five tablets into his hand and stopped at Stan’s objection, giving a loud sigh and after placing three back, took the aspirin.

The two men stared angrily at each other. Rick knew he was being an asshole, but he was grumpy, groggy, and still recovering from the nightmare that had woken him up. His tailbone wasn’t feeling any better either, and he had to shift uncomfortably on his seat to make sure it didn’t grow too unbearable.

All in all, Rick was in a rotten mood, and the cheerful atmosphere just made him even more miserable.

Dipper and Mabel suddenly found themselves in a very uncomfortable position, and Mabel decided to break the tension by taking out her sticker book.

“Hey! I know SOMETHING that will cheer you old guys up!” She chirped as she pasted two ‘Cheer up!’ stickers on each of their noses, enunciating each with a “Bop!” Rick’s frown deepened as he lazily peeled the sticker off his nose and tossed it on the table.

“Wow. Stickers. Were-were those scratch n sniff? Cause I-I could reaaaaaally smell the artificial chinese baby sweat pouring outta there….”

“Rick…” Stan warned. Mabel looked somewhat deflated as Dipper glared at the old man. Rick cut a piece of his pancake violently, relishing in the suddenly hostile atmosphere he had created.

“Oh I’M sorry so I-I’m not allowed to say the truth of things anymore huh? I’m-I’m supposed to just pretend to be a perfect person in front of kids now? You know-when did kids get so SOFT man...Jesus fuckin’ Christ. When I was kid NOTHING was held back from me and now-now you all judge me for dissing a fuckin’ scratch n’ sniff sticker? Why’s it even Scratch n’ sniff anyway?! It’s not like it’s a fuckin’ STRAWBERRY sticker or some shit! What smell would the words ‘Cheer up’ have anyway? God damn.”

“You know man…..you’re kinda a jerk, no offense.” Dipper stated curtly, feeling very defensive of his sister. Mabel was eating her pancakes slowly with her eyes somewhat downcast. Rick rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing his plate and glass.

“Whatever kid I can see when I’m not wanted. Go play Jenga with your sister or-or whatever I don’t care. I-I’ll eat in the other room where I’m not being death-glared to death. Bye.”

Rick left the room, before coming back seconds later and snatching the aspirin bottle. “I’m taking this.” He growled before leaving the room once more and slamming the door to his room.

Dipper and Mabel stared at their Grunkle, begging for an explanation. Stan gave a grunt and sat at the table across from them, where Rick had been sitting moments before.

“So I guess you kids are wondering who the heck that guy was.”

Both Dipper and Mabel nodded and waited for Stan to answer.

“Well, uh…..he’s an old friend of mine…..like…..a really old friend of mine. A really old GOOD friend of mine….” Stan seemed to be slowly realizing his relationship with Rick with every word he added. “.....a really old good friend/ex of mine….”

“What? Really?!” Mabel seemed torn between squeeing and being outraged. “You DATED that guy?”

“Well, uh, can we not talk about that sweetie…?” Stan rubbed his neck. “Forget I said that. He’s an old friend of your Grunkle Stan’s, and yeah he’s kinda…..colorful….not gonna lie.”

“He’s a total jerk!” Dipper added. “How are you FRIENDS with that guy? He makes Robbie look like a saint!”

“Yeah yeah…” Stan gave an exasperated sigh and lay his head on his hand tiredly. “I dunno kiddo. There’s something about him I guess. He’s a great guy sometimes. SMART guy you know…really knows how to party too. Also there was the whole mad scientist bit that was a thing.”

“Mad scientist???” Dipper couldn’t help but loosen his anger and gawk at Stan. “Hold up, he’s a MAD SCIENTIST?! Like for real? Like the guys who make the death rays and stuff?!”

“I WANT A DEATH RAY!” Mabel squealed, a grin filling up half her face.

“Now that I think about it, he did look like that one time-traveler dude from ‘Back to the Future!’” Dipper remarked.

“Woah woah calm down kiddos.” Stan gave a small chuckle. “Yep death rays and all. In fact, he’s a dimension traveller. He’s got this portal gun thing that can make a portal to any dimension or whatever. Actually, it’s pretty weird now that I think about it.”

“ANY dimension!?” Both Mabel and Dipper exclaimed in unison.

“He could portal to a dimension where every word begins with an M!?” Mabel squeaked.

“Or a dimension where I’m an acclaimed adventurer!” Dipper seemed wistful.

“Or a dimension where unicorns rule the world!!!” Mabel jumped up excitedly.

Stan gave a laugh and ruffled the two kid’s hair playfully.

“You kids are somethin’ I’ll tell you.” Stan gave a grin.

“Do you think he could take US on a dimension adventure!?” Mabel squeaked. Dipper made an uncomfortable face and turned toward Mabel.

“Uh Mabel, I wouldn’t really feel comfortable with that Rick guy…..”

Stan shrugged. “I dunno kiddo... Dipper has a right to be iffy about it….I’ve had my fill of weird adventures with Rick. It takes a lot outta ya that’s for sure.”

Stan saw the sparkles in Mabel’s eyes and gave a defeated sigh.

“Ok…..fine...I’m sure it would be ok…..I know he seems a little….much but trust me he’s a lotta’ fun when he’s in a good mood. Plus I’m sure he’d be a bit tamer around his grandson. At least, I hope so…..” Stan seemed uneasy. “I’ll make sure Rick knows the rules of taking you two out adventuring.”

“C’mon Dipper! This is a chance of a lifetime!” Mabel begged Dipper. “We can deal with Grunkle Rick for one adventure! I’m sure he’s a great guy! Grunkle Stan wouldn’t care for him that much if he wasn’t a good guy right!?”

Stan choked on the glass of orange juice he was sipping.

“Grunkle Rick?” Stan spluttered. Mabel gave Stan a huge grin.

Dipper seemed to be deep in thought, before a loud crash was heard from the room Rick was currently in. Everyone jumped, and Stan rubbed his temple in exasperation.

“Why don’t you kids let your Grunkle Stan talk to Rick for a while….Maybe you can go talk to that kid outside. He looks like a good kid.”

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, before giving a nod and heading out to the porch.

XXXXXXXXX

As Stan stormed into the room and saw Rick, his anger from earlier instantly faded away.

Rick was slouched over the couch, eyes half-lidded and staring at nothing in particular with a blank look to his face. His pancakes were half-eaten and placed on the ground, and he couldn’t help but notice a bunch of random sciency garbage strewn about everywhere…..one of which being a poorly hidden ray gun, and another being a flask that had been flung across the room, making a slight indent in the wall where it had hit. That must’ve been the crash he and the kids had heard. His heart dropped to his chest when he saw the aspirin bottle spilled all over the ground by Rick’s feet, but he was relieved that there were still enough on the ground that Rick couldn’t have taken any more than three. Thank god. Stan’s eyes wandered back to Rick, who hadn’t even noticed Stan had even come in.

Stan was worried. He knew that a quiet Rick was not a good Rick, and Stan suddenly felt a compulsion to hug the man and tell him that whatever had happened to him, it would be ok.

Now Stan would’ve never admitted that, and he was still angry, but he was starting to grow concerned.

“Uh…..hey.”

As soon as Stan spoke, Rick his eyes darted alertly to Stan’s, before relaxing and returning to his blank expression.

“Yo.”

“So uh…..you alright buddy?” Stan gently sat on the edge of the couch, still far enough away from Rick to be comfortable.

“And once again I ask…..what gives you the impression that I’m not…?” Rick asked tiredly, turning his head away from Stan coldly.

“Obviously you’re upset. If you weren’t upset you wouldn’t be snappin’ at those kids and then coming in here to mope.” Rick groaned, sliding backwards against the couch’s back like a little kid.

“Ughhhh...Stan don’t you have anything better to do? Like conning random idiots into buying bobble-heads or whatever?”

“You promised we would talk today.” Stan said a little more forcefully than he liked. Rick cocked an eyebrow.

“I never promised to that….and besides there’s-there’s nothing to tell.”

“That’s a lie and you know it Rick.” Stan pressed, hoping for some sort of explanation. Rick gave a frustrated grunt and rubbed his eyes, wishing that Stan would just stop talking.

“Rick?”

“Christ Stan! Can you just leave me alone for a fucking minute?!” Rick snapped, still avoiding Stan’s gaze as he gestured wildly. “You’re not my fucking mother!”

“Rick I’m concerned!” Stan raised his voice. “Ok?! You dump me and leave for ten years and suddenly come back with a traumatized kid and a broken portal gun! You’d NEVER let that damn gun get broken!”

“For the love of GOD Stanley I didn’t DUMP you!’ Rick was growing annoyed. “And it’s none of your goddamned BUSINESS what happened to me ok!?”

There was a short silence, before Rick realized something and looked back at Stan with a quizzical expression on his face.

“A-And what do you mean a ‘traumatized’ kid? You talking about Morty?”

“That kid woke up at 5 in the morning, grabbed a plate of pancakes, and sat outside for 6 hours without even getting up to take a leak. You call that a stable frame of mind?” Stan was glad that he was getting this off his chest, he had been worried for that Morty kid since he’d seen his distant stare and heavy bags under his eyes as he walked into the kitchen that morning. “What did you DO to that poor kid?”

Rick paused. “He’s my little helper.”

Stan cocked his head curiously. “Oh? So you drag ‘im around the multiverse and use him to fulfil your galactic whatsamahoozit needs?! How much crap has that kid SEEN Rick?”

Stan seemed to have hit a berserk button, and Rick violently grabbed Stan’s collar, pulling him to his dangerous eyes.

“Don’t bring up that-that kid ok? I-I-I don’t even want you looking at him. H-He’s a smart-good kid ok?” Rick stuttered madly. “I-I-I-I-I don’t want you even like-like doing anything ok like-like…...” Stan pushed Rick off of him and scooted away slightly, off put by Rick’s reaction.

“Woah jeez ok I was just curious! Jeez! Don’t get your boxer’s in a twist!”

“Stan can you just go be stupid somewhere else?! You’re-you’re annoying me!” Rick drove his knuckles into his forehead, insinuating that his headache wasn’t getting any better despite the five aspirin.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened to drive your ass here Sanchez.” Stan set his jaw.

“God JESUS ok FINE you-you-you want to know what happened Lee?!” Rick sat up and gave Stan a stare that could’ve murdered a man. “You REALLY want to know what happened!? MY FUCKING PLANET BLEW UP! THE PLANET I WAS FUCKING BORN ON! WHERE I RAISED BETH! MY FUCKING PLANET! THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS BLEW IT UP! AND NOW I HAVE NO HOME AND MORTY JUST LOST HIS FUCKING MOTHER AND SISTER! I LOST MY FUCKING DAUGHTER STANLEY! THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED! HAPPY NOW?!”

Stan jolted backwards from Rick’s explosion, a fearful look spreading across his face. With the last words, Rick’s face shifted from anger, to pain, and he quickly looked away again.

“Son of a bitch.” Rick mumbled darkly, staring at his lap and trying to maintain his composure. There was a long silence, before Stan cleared his throat and spoke.

“.....well….I mean...aren’t there lots of dimensions like yours? Couldn’t you like, I don’t know, take over that one? Or something…?”

“You don’t understand Lee.” Rick was suddenly quiet. “This was the one I put my time into….Earth Dimension L-413…..Most Rick’s don’t keep their dimension number aligned as long as I have….you know? It’s-a bitch starting a whole new life in a whole new universe. I-I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I get it…” Stan replied, not really understanding but also not knowing what else to say. After another long silence, Stan fidgeted restlessly, remembering some not-so pleasant memories and desperately trying to find a way to approach the situation.

“Rick. Promise me you’re not…..that you’re gonna get through this.” Stan quietly said, noticing Rick giving a wince in understanding.

“Are you kidding me right now? We’re bringing THIS up?”

“How could I not? The last time we saw each other-”

“Oh PLEASE can we just stop fucking talking about LAST time?” Rick kicked a few aspirin tablets away from him. “OBVIOUSLY it’s a sore subject for both of us, so why in the hell do you keep bringing it up?”

“Because it NEEDS to be brought up Rick!” Stan shakingly watched as Rick returned to achingly rubbing his head. “You nearly killed yourself!”

“Will you SHUT UP about that!?” Rick yelled, slamming his palm against the seat. “I DIDN’T ok!? I’m still here and-and by GOD if I really wish I WASN’T right now with how you’re just making EVERY attempt to make me hate you!”

“You nearly KILLED yourself, before I STOPPED you, and then you exploded at me and shattered my goddamn heart into a million pieces before portal-gunning off for ten years! Of COURSE it’s a sore subject with me, and of COURSE it need to be addressed!”

Rick opened his mouth to answer, before losing any compulsion to yell any longer and slouching back against the back of the couch. There was a very melancholy silence that seemed to last far longer than it did.

“Just…..can you just promise me that one simple little thing?”

Rick didn’t answer, instead pinching the bridge of his nose sorely.

“Lee…”

“I’m serious Rick.” He said sternly. “I-I really don’t want to have to…..you know….” He fumbled with his words, trying to find a good way to word his thoughts. “I-I just…..don’t want to have’ta scrape your brains off’a my wall I guess is what I’m...trying to say.”

Once again, Rick didn’t answer, which wasn’t helping Stan’s worry one bit.

“Rick?”

“Why in the hell do you think I-I’d want to do something like that right now?”

“Because I know you.”

Rick looked at Stan with an unreadable expression, before sighing and leaning backward against the couch, crossing his arms. “Look, I didn’t crash here to be nagged at and worried over like a fucking child ok? Let-let me just recover a bit. Let me do my thing. I’ve gotten this far on my own bro. I don’t need you.”

Ouch, that really stung. Stan winced a bit. That statement had really hurt Stan. This was his best friend, his closest friend, telling him that he wasn’t needed. Stan considered leaving right then, but he was stubborn and he couldn’t accept Rick’s absolute disregard for his concern.

“Rick I-”

“Bye Stan.”

“Rick-”

“I said fuck off!” Rick barked. Stan realized that there was no use debating, and after hesitating a moment, scooped up the aspirin and the ray gun.

“Leave the fucking gun Stan.” Rick stood up aggressively.

“I’m not leavin’ you here with a gun until you promise that you’re not gonna off yourself.” Stan stated mutely. Rick seemed ready to tackle the man, before deciding against it. He was too tired and distracted.

“Ughhhh…..Fine whatever! Just give me my gun back.”

“I want to hear you say it Sanchez.” Stan crossed his arms stubbornly. Rick rolled his eyes.

“Fine! I-I ‘promise’ that I won’t make you clean my brains off the wall.” Rick carefully articulated, voice dripping with apathy. “N-Now give me my gun back motherfucker.”

Stan seemed unsatisfied, but tossed the gun back in distaste. He stared at Rick with a hint of sorrow and anger in his eyes, before heading out the door.

“I want you gone as soon as you finish that portal gun.” Stan’s voice cracked slightly. “And then I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Fine with me.” Rick spat, falling back down on the couch and scowling.

Stan slammed the door closed, and made his way to his office, where he quietly shut the door and slumped over his messy desk. He buried his face in his hands without crying, feeling almost as shattered as when his brother fell through the portal. It seemed like anyone he ever cared about, no matter how hard he tried, ended up hating him in the end.

“Why does this always happen…?”

Chapter Text

Dipper and Mabel had headed out to the porch, where they had spotted Morty sitting on the couch silently, staring off into the distance. They looked at each other nervously a moment, before seating themselves on the couch themselves and greeting the boy.

“Hey! I’m Dipper and this is my sister Mabel.”

“Hello!” Mabel swung her sweater sleeves in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re Morty right??”

Morty broke out of his daze and turned toward the two younger kids slowly, still seemingly deep in thought. He gave a polite smile.

“H-hey. Yeah I’m Morty.” Dipper fidgeted with the brim of his hat as he tried to find something to talk about.

“We just met your grandpa.” Dipper settled on, making a cuckoo sign with his fingers. “That guy’s a nutcase right?”

Morty shrugged. “Y-yeah tell me about it man. And I-I have to deal with him all time. He’s crazy.”

Mabel and Dipper were silently ecstatic that the strange boy was talking to them normally. They had feared that, because of how tired and distant he had looked, that he would’ve been a weirdo. He seemed pretty cool though, for now at least, especially with a Grandfather like Rick. He seemed to have a very distinct stutter, which they had also noticed in Rick, but it didn’t bother them too much.

“Yeah speaking of which, Grunkle Stan mentioned that you two go on dimension adventures? Is that true?” Dipper asked, trying to hold in his emerging excitement on the topic. Mabel had clearly given up on holding it in and was bouncing on the couch.

Morty’s smile faltered. “Yeah I-I mean we do that stuff like every day….pretty much every day you know? I-It’s not really as fun as-as you think it would be cause it’s like…..really traumatizing and stuff.”

“How?” Dipper was genuinely intrigued. “Wait so you can go to ANY dimension. INFINITE dimensions right?”

“Yeah that’s p-pretty much the idea behind dimension travelling…” Morty really didn’t want to think about anything that had to do with Rick right now. He wished the kids would just leave him be, so he could space out and forget about things for a little while longer before having to deal with whatever Rick decided they needed to do next.

The disaster from yesterday had hit Morty much differently than Rick. He wasn’t devastated or even that sad, which Morty thought was strange seeing as he was usually always on edge. Maybe, he thought to himself, he was worried so much about what WOULD happen, that when something terrible did finally happen, he felt as though he had nothing to worry or fret over left. Instead, he directed all his energy into trying not to think about it. That’s what Rick always said to do. And it was working, well almost.

Morty was angry. He was angry at Rick, FURIOUS even, but hiding it quite well. Rick had gone way too far this time for redemption, and Morty didn’t want to ever see his psycho of a grandfather again. If he had never showed up, he would still be a normal, somewhat slow but innocent kid who would maybe grow up to be like his dad someday. Now, thanks to Rick, he’d seen too much to want that sort of life anymore. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he became like his dad, because he knew that it wasn’t a life he could live contently. Rick had warped him beyond repair, and now his dad didn’t even exist anymore…..

“Morty?”

Morty snapped out of his daze and raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dipper to ask him something. Morty felt a bit of his anger bubbling up, threatening to spill over onto these two kids. Morty blamed Rick for that too. These kids hadn’t done anything, and yet he could taste the cynicism and annoyance he had picked up from Rick just waiting to be expelled out of him. The thought of this only heightened his inner anger.

“Look um….this’ll sound like a weird question but, have you ever seen me before in another dimension? Like, some other version of me, maybe an acclaimed adventurer or cipher-hunter or something? Just...wondering..” Dipper was too overwhelmed with the amazing possibilities of what Morty could have seen in his travels to really notice Morty’s internal war with himself.

“Oh….uh….I dunno.” Morty pondered half-heartedly for a moment. “I-I guess I might’ve seen a version of myself wearing that blue tree hat somewhere…or somethin’. I-I don’t remember. I-I see a lot of crazy…..weird stuff all the time you know.”

“You’ve seen yourself?!” Mabel scooted closer to Morty, pressing for an answer.

“Y-yeah there’s like this whole Citadel thing that’s filled with me’s and Rick’s and different versions of us and stuff….it’s pretty crazy…” Morty thought for a moment. “Then I think some other version of Rick blew it up or something? R-Rick doesn’t like the Citadel a lot though. He-he thinks it’s stupid. He thinks everything is stupid.”

“Screw what your Grandpa thinks, he’s obviously a jerk.” Dipper comforted. “It sounds really cool to me!”

“Yeah! Maybe there’s a Citadel of Mabels. That would be the bessssst!”

Morty gave a small smile. He decided he liked these kids. They didn’t seem too much younger than he was, plus they seemed to look up to him. That made him feel a bit better.

“So can you fly a spaceship?!” Mabel questioned.

“Y-yeah I fly Rick’s car sometimes.” Morty rubbed his neck. “That’s kinda blown up now…..though.”

“What do you mean blown up?” Dipper seemed to grow slightly serious. “Is that why you guys decided to come here? Did your spaceship blow up?”

Morty flinched slightly, looking away from the kids, He pondered over whether he should tell them why they had suddenly showed up, seeing as he really didn’t know WHERE he was or who these people were, but he decided it would help to get the events of the past day off of his chest.

“Uh…...w-well some aliens blew up our version of Earth…I think….it got blown up….so-so Rick portalled us here, I dunno why. Our gun ran out of charge I think, so you know, maybe he came here cause there’s a portal gun charger or something.”

“Grunkle Stan told us that your grandpa and him were really good friends.” Dipper thought a moment. “Maybe that’s why he decided to come here?”

“If-if that guy was that good of a friend to Rick, I-I would’ve thought he’d like, tell me about him and stuff…” Morty sighed. “I mean…..he’s introduced me to all his weird alien friends and everything you know? Or-or maybe he didn’t want me knowing about you guys because he-he was just being a dick or something….”

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, before turning back with concerned polite expressions.

“Well, I’m sure Grunkle Stan wouldn’t mind if you stayed for a while. He said that he’d talk to your Grandpa about maybe taking all of us on an adventure together, so you know maybe we could be friends and hang out and stuff.” Dipper gave a comforting smile.

“I-I don’t think you two understand.” Morty seemed to be growing somewhat panicky. “A-adventures with Rick aren’t fun, ok? T-They’re crazy and-and scary and disturbing. I-I once had to go to a dimension where these mutated…..goo monsters ate babies and vomited babies like…..on my head you know? And Rick went there to harvest the baby intestines and eat them because a-apparently they were like a fast-acting viagra type….thing. And-and he wanted them so he could have sex with this alien who was literally a…..well….it’s-it’s not…..it’s not cool. It’s plain…...DISTURBING and-and gives me nightmares and stuff. I-I just don’t want you two…..like….getting scarred by Rick like I have so-so don’t let him scar you I guess and-and don’t go on adventures with him if you can help it.”

Dipper and Mabel didn’t understand half of the things Morty had said, but they really didn’t want to know. Judging by Morty’s face, they could tell that Rick had really messed this kid up, and Dipper’s inner hatred of Rick grew even more. What kind of guy DOES that to his grandson?

“Well…..what if you just asked your grandpa if you could use his portal gun and have an adventure with just the three of us?” Dipper questioned. As much as he wanted to present himself as a chill, mellow guy to this obviously very experienced sci-fi sidekick, on the inside he was squealing almost as much as he would if he had ever met the author of the journals. Between this and his growing concern for the older boy, his insides were a jumble of emotions and he was having a hell of a time trying to hide it all so he would seem ‘cool’.

“Yeah! Then we could see the awesome, NOT wacko dimensions! Like Unicorn Town!” Mabel’s leg was bouncing as the two younger children stared expectantly at Morty. Mabel herself was just hyped up to see cool dimensions.

“I-I don’t think that’s a very good idea…..He-he’s really possessive. He’d just yell at me.” Morty thought a moment. He had never had an actual adventure without Rick before. Maybe it would be fun. “But…..we could maybe…..take it? When he’s not looking? But we’d have to find the charger first….”

“Maybe Grunkle Stan has it somewhere in his office! He has tons of weird stuff in there!” Mabel chirped.

“Yeah! We could sneak into his office while Grunkle Stan’s asleep, find the charger, snatch up your Grandpa’s portal gun, and then go on an epic adventure!” Dipper was way too excited to think through what the consequences of being caught would be. “Stan always watches TV around the same time every night. We could be in and out of there, and then you could keep your grandpa occupied while I get the gun!”

The thought of interacting with Rick right now gave Morty the willies. “Um…..do you think you could distract Rick while I get the gun? I-I don’t really think I’m ready to talk to him yet….it’s complicated.”

“Yeah sure! I can do it!” Mabel lept up heroically. “Mabel Pines! Expert distractor!”

“We’re going on an adventure!!” Dipper cheered as he and Mabel shared a high five.

“Oh wait!” Mabel’s face fell. “I’m having a sleepover with Candy and Grenda tonight...I won’t be able to go adventuring with you guys…”

“It’s ok Mabel. Morty and I can go tonight just to test things out, and then tomorrow we’ll get the gun again. That way everything works out.” Dipper patted his sister’s shoulder lovingly. “Don’t worry we’ll make sure you get to see Unicorn Town or whatever.”

“Ok! Thanks Dipper!” Mabel’s smile returned. Morty gave a smile himself and stood up.

“Y-yeah that sounds like a...good time. I-I think that’ll be fun. Just-you know….be prepared I guess….it’s a crazy and chaotic place out there….”

“We will!” The twins stood up as well, and Dipper gave Morty a friendly smile. “Hey do you want to watch cartoons with us? The shack’s been closed for repairs so we have the whole day to kill.”

“Yeah! Usually ‘The Baffling Babyman’ is on around this time!” Mabel stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Is he a baby? Or is he a man? We may never know….”

“That sounds great! I-I can’t remember the last time I watched normal cartoons….I-I usually watch interdimensional TV….It’s pretty cool but….there’s something about just watching normal TV you know?”

“Yeah! C’mon let’s get some snacks and sodas!” Dipper opened the door for everyone and made sure to lock the door before they headed into the kitchen.

Morty admitted, these kids had definitely cheered him up, and as they sat down in the living room with a bag of Chipackerz and watched mindless television for hours, Morty felt more normal than he had felt in almost two years.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rick didn’t step a foot out of his room until about six o’clock. Stan had ordered take-out Chinese for the kids and himself, which they were eating at the kitchen table, and Rick had entered the room quietly and swiftly. He immediately made his way to a locked cabinet, shot a strange device at it, unlocking it, and took out a massive bottle of whiskey without saying a single word. Stan stood up angrily, positioning himself to stop Rick from taking the bottle, but Rick merely stepped past him and headed back into his room.

A wave of silence passed through the room, as Stan watched Rick leave and sat down again, giving a defeated sigh. None of them had made any attempt to interact with Rick since that morning, and it was as if mentioning him ruined any chance of a stress-free conversation. Morty, however, couldn’t help noticing how tired Rick looked in the very short moment that he had seen him. It was bizarre seeing Rick that way, and it almost made Morty want to come in and check on him.

Almost.

“Hey Grunkle Stan.” Dipper said as he fiddled with his chopsticks. “Morty and I went hiking through the woods for a little bit and I showed him the bottomless pit. We threw rocks and sticks in there and tried to aim them so they would hit trees and squirrels and all that junk.”

Dipper and Morty looked at each other happily, easing the tension in the room. The two boys had really bonded over the past seven or so hours, and Mabel was eagerly waiting for the doorbell ring that would signify the presence of Grenda and Candy.

“That’s great kiddo.” Stan gave a sincere smile as he sipped a cup of coffee. “It’s pretty amazin’ that you two get along as well as you do.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. Mabel ejected from her seat and lept to the door, opening it and greeting her friends happily.

Stan gave a chuckle and placed his mug on the table. As Stan made his way over to the living room to watch his evening television, Mabel gave the two boys a passing wink before leading the girls to the room Rick was staying in. Soon, they heard Rick shouting profanities and the girls laughing maniacally.

Now was the time. Dipper nodded at Morty, and they quietly tip-toed their way to Stan’s office. They had to find the charger rather quickly. Mabel wouldn’t hold Rick for long. Luckily, Dipper had remembered seeing a greenish sciency thing that had been out of place in one of Grunkle Stan’s boxes.

Once they entered, Dipper instantly went over to an unlabeled cardboard box in one of the corners. As Dipper sifted through several magazines with bathing-suit clad women on the cover, Dipper finally found a charger, and something else as well.

“Morty! Isn’t this a portal gun!?” Dipper asked in awe, holding up a gun that looked similar to Rick’s but with very slight differences.

“Huh?” Morty looked up from one of the magazines he had quickly picked up and ogled. “H-hey yeah! B-but why would Rick leave a portal gun here? W-we better just get Rick’s instead. It’s probably safer….”

Just then, the fury filled voice of Rick filled the shack.

“YOU FUCKING SKANKS I’M TRYING TO FIX MY GODDAMNED PORTAL GUN!.”

Dipper raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said the portal gun just needed to be charged?”

A realization suddenly dawned on Morty. “O-oh maybe the gun got damaged when we fell out of the portal….That would explain why we haven’t left yet….”

Dipper held up the older model. “We could use this one. We might want to test it to see if it works or something.”

Morty shivered. “Y-yeah. Once I saw a Morty melt into a skeleton because the portal gun he had had bad fluid in it….ever since then I’ve been kinda anxious about using portal guns I-I’m not familiar with you know?”

“What if we tested the portal by tossing something through it? Like an apple or something. That way if it melts or disintegrates we know not to mess around with it…”

Morty thought a moment. “Yeah that would work….I-I think.”

Dipper gave the gun over to Morty, who looked at the gun a moment before dialing some coordinates.

“Anywhere you wanna go Dipper?” Morty asked. Dipper opened his mouth, them paused, fumbling to find an answer.

“Gosh I’ve been too preoccupied with being ABLE to go anywhere I want in the multiverse, that I never even really thought about WHERE I’d want to go….”

Morty looked around the office, and spotted a small flyer that had the picture of an Axolotl on it. It had the words, “WIN A FREE AXOLOTL!” and it was obviously from some sort of fair or carnival.

“H-hey do you like Axolotls?”

Dipper shrugged. “Grunkle Stan has one, but it doesn’t do anything. It just kinda sits around all day….it doesn’t even have a name…”

Morty gave a large grin. “Well do you want to visit the dimension where Axolotls are hyper-intelligent and-and rule the world? J-Just throwing out ideas here. Maybe we could keep one as a pet and name it or something….I-I’ve always wanted a pet of my own. I had a dog but…..he kinda turned into a robot.”

“Heck yeah!” Dipper gave a fist pump, and didn’t question the whole ‘robot-dog’ comment. “Let’s do it man!”

Morty seemed to be doing some calculating, before typing in a few numbers and pulling the trigger after pointing the gun at the wall. A large green portal formed and the two boys looked at each other like they had just won the lottery.

“Ok! Now to test it.” Dipper found a rubber ball somewhere in the office and tossed the ball gently into the portal. It passed through with no problem, and the two boys high fived each other.

“Alright! Dip-Dip and Morty adventure! Dip and Morty a hundred years! Dip and Morty adventures-dot com. 100 years, Dip and Morty!”

Dipper snorted. “That’s dumb, what’s that?”

Morty’s face pinkened with embarrassment. “Oh uh…..just-just a dumb thing Rick used to say, except like I changed it a little.” Morty waved toward the portal. “Come on let’s go.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

After chasing off the girls and locking the door tightly, Rick gently sat on the couch and swept back his hair nervously. He had already drank over half of his bottle of whiskey, and was starting to becoming inebriated. He didn’t regret it one bit, and as he took another large swig from the bottle. he was growing increasingly happy that he had remembered where the cabinet was after all these years, and that he was able to throw together that makeshift lock-unlocker.

As he sat there on the now messy and slightly stained couch, his mind kept drifting back to some not-so pleasant thoughts. All he wanted to do was get out of this damn cheerful homely place and get wasted at some shitty alien pub somewhere. He wanted to murder something. He wanted to get stoned to all hell and forget everything…….

He wanted his daughter back.

It was even worse than back then, when he had left his family for twenty years. At least then there was hope that he could someday come back to them. But now everything that he had worked so hard to protect was gone, and now, why bother?

A very faint part of Rick’s slowly deteriorating mind whispered “Morty.” Morty was all that remained of his world…..and yet he was too much of a pussy to even look at the kid anymore.

The kid hated him. He knew that and he didn’t blame him. He hated himself too.

Rick quite suddenly socked himself in the jaw, hard, nearly causing his bottle to drop from his hand. He exclaimed in pain, taking a minute to spit out a bit of blood and massage his jaw.

He both needed and deserved that, and the adrenaline stemming from the shock of the impact and the quickly dulling pain put him at ease for a few minutes. Sure, it wasn’t a bar fight, but it was the best he could do with what he had.

“God I-I’m fucked up.” Rick laughed darkly, finishing his bottle, before stumbling over to the door, unlocking it, and drunkenly making his way to the living room to pick a fight with one of the greatest boxers he’d ever had the pleasure of beating the shit out of.

Chapter Text

“You parked your CAR……………..on my SANDWICH…….!”

A wave of cheesy sitcom laughter sounded from the television, and Stan gave a soft chuckle. He was completely content, clad in his tanktop and boxer shorts, lazily sipping a Pitt cola on his favorite chair. He loved moments like this, zoning out to bad sitcoms while completely letting the stresses of the world float away. It was moments like this that he felt completely at peace. There were no police to swindle, no conartistry, no craziness. Just him, a can of soda, and the television set was all he needed to feel happy…..

Suddenly, something violently pushed Stan and his chair over sideways, sending Stan tumbling to the floor and knocking over a lamp, sending it crashing to the ground and expelling several sharp glass shards. Stan painfully held his head, which had smacked against the floor in the sudden attack. He got to his feet clumsily, not even understanding where or what the hostile force was, and instinctively blocked a fist that had come at him out of nowhere.

“What the HELL?!” Stan shouted in confusion, trying to ignore the pain starting to sear against his decrepit back. He raised his fists protectively, unsure of what he was protecting himself from, before finally recognising the psychotic, drunken grin of Rick Sanchez directly in front of him. He was holding one of the glass shards from the lamp, and was clad only in his lab coat and pants. Dried vomit coated Rick’s chest and chin as he neared toward Stan threateningly.

“Rick!? Are you INSANE!?” Stan shouted, before being shoved backward by the man and falling on his ass harshly. “OW!”

Stan looked up, seeing the lanky figure of his friend towering over him dangerously. He felt a pang of fear ring through him as he saw the glass shard in Rick’s hand. They had had their fair share of fights in the past, most of them pretty closely matched, but there was something different about this time. Something behind Rick’s droopy, smashed eyes and the way he gripped that piece of glass that scared the shit out of Stan. Something, dangerous.

Rick grabbed Stan’s tanktop collar and yanked the man to his face, causing Stan to choke from the force. The overwhelming smell of whiskey flooded his nostrils, sending signals to Stan’s adrenaline riddled brain that Rick had drunk way more than just that one bottle.

“Leeeeee.” Rick slurred, still grinning maniacally. Stan’s instincts from years in the past seemed to finally kick in, and Stan clocked Rick straight in the jaw, hitting an ugly bruise that he hadn’t seen earlier that day. Rick let out a sort of strangled noise as he let go of both Stan and the glass shard and gripped his jaw in agony.

“Rick what-what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Stan panted, massaging his neck. “Are you trying to KILL me?!”

Rick tackled the other man and they both fell to the ground, Rick pinning the man down and reeling his arm up to punch the man back. Stan caught the fist before it hit his face and twisted Rick’s wrist badly, resulting in Rick howling out in pain and getting a few elbow jabs into Stan’s face. One of the jabs smashed against Stan’s nose, which was now spurting blood all over his tanktop.

“Jesus FUCK!” Stan swore, not caring about his ‘child-friendly filter’ anymore and desperately trying to wrestle the skinnier man off of him in this crazy, chaotic, nonsense that was a fight. Stan was getting way too old for this, and his back was absolutely killing him as he attempted to avoid Rick’s onslaught of blows.

After being hit quite a few times, one being an especially painful one to the eye, Stan finally was able to shove the man off of him and without hesitation, grabbed the man’s neck. His hands were so large and Rick’s neck so skinny that they nearly wrapped all away around it, and Rick’s pinkened eyes bulged out of his head as he realized he was being strangled. After a terrifying few seconds of Rick trying to struggle out of the hold, Rick aggressively tapped the ground as if to say “I give, I give!” And Stan let go, falling backwards onto his butt.

The two men caught their breaths, Rick still lying on his back. After a few uneasily quiet minutes of recovery, Stan finally had enough oxygen to choke out, “What…….in God’s name….do you think you were doing…..Rick…..”

The mania in Rick’s eyes seemed completely gone, and although he was still drunk out of his mind, Stan noticed a flash of regret zip past the man’s eyes.

Stan wiped his nose with the back of his hand, creating an ugly smear of red blood on his hand that he looked at a moment. God it had been years since he had been clocked THAT hard….and he sure hadn’t missed it. He could already feel his right eye swelling up.

“L-Lee……” Stan perked his ears at the wavering voice of Rick, still limply staring at the ceiling with a dopily regretful expression on his face. Stan gave a long sigh, standing up and walking over to the drunken man. He looked down at him, and was surprised to see Rick’s face crumple into sobs, before he rolled over to his side and retched green slime onto the floor.

Hoo boy…...Rick really was wasted wasn’t he. There was no use in trying to talk to him in this state. He’d just forget it the next morning.

“Oh crap, oh crap uh….” Stan looked around awkwardly a moment, before bending over and picking the man up, placing Rick’s arm around his shoulder and half-carrying him, half guiding him out of the room. “Let’s get you to bed buddy….c’mon let’s go.”

“Y-Y-You’re a-a-a good g-guy…...great guy…..b-bro you-you know…..I-I-I don’t….I-I don’t….” Rick stammered, still sobbing uglily and burying his tear and vomit soaked face into Stan’s tanktop. Stan awkwardly pat the man’s head, his eyes staring at the floor uncomfortably as he plodded to the room.

“That’s good….that’s good. C’mon let’s try to walk to your room. Work with me here.”

Rick had slumped against Stan’s shoulder, refusing to walk back into his room, which they were now standing outside of. Stan gave an irritated sigh, before heaving the stubborn man over his shoulder a little too easily and stumbling inside as Rick drooled obstinately all over Stan’s back. He tossed Rick on the now completely trashed couch and watched apathetically as Rick grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his face painfully.

“L-Lee ‘m sorry I-I-I didn’ wanna…..didn’ wanna feel…..I didn’ wanna do-do it myself…’nymore *HIC* …….f-fuckin Muhammed Ali-lookin’ motherfucker…better to….do me in…b-better you than f-fuckin’ me....tryin’ to protect you and…...y-you fuckin’......n-never wanna see me again or nothin’......”

Stan had zero idea what Rick was rambling on about in his nonsensical stream of incessant gibberish, and so he chose not to respond. He began to head for the door, before feeling the weak grip of Rick’s grimy hand on the hem of his tanktop.

“W-wait…….” Rick shoved the pillow of his face and stared at Stan with wide eyes, like a child’s. It creeped Stan the hell out, but he figured it had to be something important to Rick’s wrecked mind.

“What Rick?” Stan asked tiredly, feeling achy and totally ready to sleep off the chaos of the night.

“D-Don’t leave…..just yet….’m…..” Rick seemed almost frightened. “I-I-I wanna…….’m…..promise…..I wanna keep it…...stay please….until I-I sleep….sleeping...until I’m asleep.”

Stan’s mouth slightly opened, more out of confusion than concern, trying to piece together what Rick was trying to say.

“What?”

“Please Lee…..” Rick begged. Stan guessed what Rick had meant, and sat gently next to him, trying to ignore the fact he was sitting on some unknown liquid that could be spilled whiskey, vomit, piss, or all of the above.

“I’m here Rick. You don’t have’ta worry.”

A huge smile filled up Rick’s face, and he closed his eyes peacefully.

“T-t-thanks.”

Stan sat next to Rick for about ten minutes, before he seemed to have fallen asleep. Stan couldn’t help looking at the man as he slept, his mouth somewhat ajar and drooling ugily. Although Rick wasn’t a very beautiful sleeper, he looked at peace for the first time since he had crashed here. Stan gave a weak smile, and stood up to leave. As he left the room, he had faintly heard Rick say something in his sleep.

“......Morty….”

Stan gave it no thought and carefully shut the door, locking it from the outside so that Rick wouldn’t try to interact with the kids while in this state. He sighed in relief, and made his way to the bathroom. When he entered, he checked himself in the mirror to see the damage Rick had caused.

“Jumpin’ Jackalopes….” Stan muttered as he saw his already swelling up face. Rick must’ve hit him harder than he remembered. Luckily, the majority wasn’t too bad, except his eye, which would DEFINITELY be an ugly shiner tomorrow.

“Meh….” Stan waved his hand at himself and shuffled off to the living room, where he cleaned up the mess Rick had caused, and man, was it a big one.

He had to push the chair back up to where it had been, as well as scrub the quickly drying vomit from the carpet.

He was dumping the glass shards from his lamp into the trash when he saw Mabel standing in the doorway, wearing a curious expression on her face.

“Oh uh…..hi sweetie! Why aren’t’cha with your friends upstairs?”

“I heard some weird crashing and some yelling….sooooo I was just making sure nobody had died or Gideon hadn’t broken out of jail…..” Mabel’s head was cocked like a puppy. “.....are you ok Grunkle Stan? Why’s your eye like, all janked up?”

Stan stammered a minute, trying to find an excuse that wouldn’t raise any more questions.

“Oh well uh…...Mabel….I….”

“Did that Rick guy hurt you?!” Mabel realized, suddenly feeling guilty. It was her fault for making him angry! Maybe if she hadn’t interrupted him while he was working, Stan wouldn’t have gotten hurt! “Was it….my fault?!”

“No no no! Honey!” Stan swooped over to Mabel and gave her a hug. “Your Grunkle’s fine! Don’t worry ‘bout me! We just had….a little arguement I’m a-ok! Rick’s just going through a lot right now sweetie alright?”

“But-but….” Mabel buried her face in Stan’s chest. “If-if he hurt you then….then why are you still friends with him? I don’t understand! He hurt you Grunkle Stan!”

Stan tried to find something to say, before patting the young girl’s hair gently and giving a sincere smile.

“When you get older Mabel…...friendships get a little more complicated. You’ll have fights with the people you love the most……” Stan paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. “And sometimes, you’ll almost hate each other. Especially if you’ve known someone your whole life…and especially if the person you love is troubled, like Rick is….”

“But Grunkle Stan…..” Mabel lifted her head up to look at him.

“Rick just lost his family sweetie…he hasn’t had a greatest life and he does have some very bad problems…..but you can’t judge someone based on how they act at their worst….ya can’t kick ‘em while they’re down is what I’m sayin’.”

“But…..he’s done NOTHING but just…..be a terrible person since he’s been here! I-I even talked to Morty and even HE said that he doesn’t like him!”

“Mabel honey.” Stan thought carefully about his next words. “Rick has saved my life before…..And I’ve saved his….I don’t want to get into that now, but we go back a long, long way. We’ve been through the best and the worst together, and this is one of the ‘worst’ times...but….” Stan looked sternly into Mabel’s eyes. “If he ever does ANYTHING to hurt you kids, I will kick him out so fast he’ll see stars.”

The seriousness lightened up just as soon as it began, and the old man gave Mabel a mischievous smile.

“And I’ll let you in on a secret…...your Grunkle Stan kicked his butt.”

Mabel gave a weak grin and slugged Stan lightly on the shoulder.

“Awwww I knew that! Grunkle Stan always wins a fight!”

Stan chuckled and gently pushed Mabel off of him.

“Sure do, you little gremlin. Alright go have fun with your little friends. I’m sure they’re waitin’ on you.”

“Aye aye Captain Stan!” Mabel saluted and bolted off.

Stan gave a tired sigh and rubbed his swollen eye, glad he had avoided that whole mess. As he sat on his chair, his mind ran on full power. The last thing he needed was Mabel getting involved in Rick’s hurricane of problems that Stan himself didn’t know exactly how to deal with. She was too pure and innocent, Dipper too.

His mind ticked on and on, finding a way to fix this mess of a situation he had gotten himself in, before eventually succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Holy CRAP!”

Dipper and Morty had stepped out of the portal and marveled at the change in scenery. The sky was a mute pinkish, the type of color you would see in the early morning. Tiny yet beautiful lime rivers stretched in every direction, about the width of a phone book, and bountiful enough to be considered an abundance, but not too much to hinder the two boy’s movements. As they looked around a bit more, they were overjoyed to see hundreds of axolotls, wading through the rivers.

“But wait, Morty.” Dipper turned toward Morty in awe. “These axolotls are huge! Like, the size of a chihuahua! And-and these ones are terrestrial! I thought axolotls couldn’t breathe on land!”

“Infinite universes, infinite possibilities.” Morty gave a huge grin. So THIS was what it was like to have a curious wide-eyed sidekick. He could kinda see the appeal of it now. “Including a universe where axolotls can breathe on land, are the perfect size of an ordinary housepet, and are extremely intelligent.”

Dipper gave a small wave at one of the passing axolotl, who looked up at Dipper with it’s blank axolotl face and gave a tiny nod. Dipper gawked at the salamander as it waddled off.

“Did you see that!?” Dipper grabbed Morty excitedly by the shoulders. “He NODDED at me!”

“C’mon, l-let’s go and-and pick one out so we can take him home and stuff. D-don’t even trip.” Morty said coolly as he bent over and gave one of the small creatures a high five. “I’m friends with a couple of these guys, m-maybe one of them would like’ta come with us and be our pet!”

“You’re friends with axolotls?!” Dipper couldn’t wrap his mind around this. He had seen some crazy stuff since he’d been to Gravity Falls, but being FRIENDS with a giant axolotl definitely took one of the cakes.

“Oh yeah! Atoke actually saved Rick and I from a man-eating sea-worm once, and-and they helped out with this big war that Rick fought in once I think.” Morty shrugged like it was the most uninteresting thing in the world. “I think Atoke has a son who wanted to visit Earth. Maybe we’ll ask him.”

“Atoke?” Dipper’s eyes went to a few younger looking axolotls who were splashing each other with the green water, rolling around in a hilarious fashion. Despite being intelligent, they tended to maintain a consistent neutral expression, to the point that it made Dipper snort as the salamanders rolled around with a straight poker face.

“Yep. C’mon let’s go to town and see if we can find him.”

The two boys waded their way through the tiny rivers before reaching a collection of buildings that ranged from buildings slightly taller than Morty to “skyscrapers” about as tall as a street pole. There were tiny sidewalks that axolotls plodded on from building to building, and basically everything that a standard city would have except axolotl sized.

Morty led Dipper over to one of the Morty-sized buildings, where he gently tapped the roof and waited. After a few moments, an axolotl waddled out of the building and looked up at Morty expressionless.

“Hey Atoke! W-what’s up my-my pal, my chum. Epitoky still bringing in the ladies? Y-Your son’s quite the-the girl….talker if I remember correctly. Kids haha right?”

Atoke stared at Morty, before make some sort of weird gesture with his limbs. Dipper stared at Morty, who seemed to be understanding what Atoke was gesturing.

“Oh uh we’re doing great….just great you know. Rick and I are hangin’ out with some people you know? It’s great. Nothing’s goin’ on you know? Boring life stuff.”

Atoke continued to gesture.

“Oh well my-my friend and I wanted to ask Epitoky if he’d like to, you know, hang with us and stuff. On Earth. Like-like just see the place and everything.”

Atoke stopped gesturing for a moment, before waving his arms once and plodding back inside. Morty frowned and turned back toward Dipper.

“Aw jeez, guess we gotta find someone else. Epitoky’s in some hot water I-I guess.”

“That’s alright.” Dipper was a bit flabbergasted by how Morty understood the nonsensical arm waves of the axolotl. “Literally makes no difference to me. They’re all the same.”

“That’s speciesist Dipper.” Morty narrowed his eyes. “First rule of interdimensional travel, you-you can’t judge an alien on their appearance….or an axolotl by how unique or similar they look to each other.”

Dipper rubbed his neck uncomfortably at Morty’s sudden wavering of a serious voice. He could kind of understand where Stan was coming from now. Despite interdimensional travel being cool, he felt very out of place here. Morty seemed to know a lot more about everything than he did, which made sense but didn’t do anything to quench Dipper’s uneasiness.

“Uhhh ok….you lead the way man.”

Morty and Dipper walked the streets of the small city together, watching the thousands of axolotls doing typical city things like running food stands, playing a trumpet for change, and selling newspapers. Suddenly, Morty turned through an alley, squeezing through with some difficulty. Dipper followed him, and they found themselves in a concrete area surrounded by buildings, like a hidden parking lot. The buildings were covered in strange graffiti, which looked like a mixture of english and some strange symbol language.

“Right there. A stray.” Morty pointed to an axolotl laying on top of a tiny dumpster, looking quite depressed for having such a blank expression.

Morty walked over and picked the salamander up, holding him by the arms as he brought it to his face and stared at it. The axolotl looked away semi-sadly, giving a slight wave of his arm.

“This one’s an orphan. I-I’d say about our age in axolotl years. Doesn’t even have a name, the poor fella.” Morty placed him down and gave him a small pat on the head. Dipper adjusted his hat unconsciously, secretly trying to make a good first impression.

“Well, we could make him our pet. That way he has a home and food and all that stuff.” Dipper noticed the axolotl looking at him, and he gave a gentle smile. “He seems nice.”

“T-That’s the plan. We-We need to give him a name first though.” Morty thought. “Axolotl names here usually deal with weird, obscure biology things…..it’s a weird thing that happens in this dimension.”

“What about Pickles?” Dipper suggested, feeling proud with his input. “Cause he’s like…..slimy and smells like vinegar.”

Morty opened his mouth to shut down the idea, before closing it and giving an dorky smile.

“Um…..I like it! I’m sure Pickles here wants to get out of axolotl culture anyway so-so maybe choosing a foreign name is a good idea.”

Pickles seemed to like his new name and his vaguely depressed looking blank expression turned into a vaguely happy blank expression. Dipper picked Pickles up by his arms and chuckled as he attempted to crawl up his arm.

“Man he’s heavier than I thought he would be.” Dipper took off his hat and placed it over Pickles, who pawed at it curiously.

“Yeah, about the weight of an Earth chihuahua.” Morty took the portal gun on of his pants pocket. “Alright let’s-let’s head home before Rick bites my head off. He-he doesn’t like when I go out adventuring without him.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dipper looked around a moment. “I’m kinda overwhelmed already. We should probably take all this dimension stuff kinda slowly.”

“Heh yeah. Wish Rick did the same for me.” Morty fiddled with the dial on the gun. “First adventure he took me on? Was eaten and digested by a giant monster alien. Only survived cause Rick had a serum that turned back the process of digestion. Pieces of my organs kept falling out for weeks after that….”

“......Jeez…” Dipper watched as Morty shot a portal into the side of the building and, after a short pause, looked toward Morty in concern. “Hey uh…..are you…..ok?”

Morty lowered the portal gun and looked toward Dipper tiredly. He paused a moment, before answering. “It’s best not to ask questions. L-let’s go.”

Morty stepped through the portal, and after placing Pickles on his shoulder, Dipper followed suit.

When the two boys returned, the office was just as they had left it. The portal disappeared behind them and Morty quickly stuffed the gun back into Stan’s box.

“There, it’s like it never happened.” Morty gave a thumbs up. “Dipper and Morty adventure.”

“Dipper and Morty adventure.” Dipper gave a thumbs up back, giving a large smile and looking around the room. “How long were we in axolotl land?”

“About two hours m-maybe. I-I’m not too good with time.”

“Fair enough.” Dipper opened the door and walked out in the hallway. “Hey uh…..by the way…..you can sleep with Mabel and I tonight. I mean….it’ll probably be chaotic in there because her friends are over but….if you don’t want to sleep with your grandpa, that’s an option.”

Morty gave a sincere grin of gratitude. “Hey thanks Dipper. I had fun today. Hopefully this’ll be more than a one time thing.”

“Yeah.” Dipper led Morty up to the attic, where the sound of chattering girls grew louder. When Dipper opened the door, both the boys were greeted with a barrelful of glitter being launched in their faces.

“INTRUDERS MUST BE GLITTER-A-FIED!!!” Mabel screamed happily, also coated head to toe in pink glitter. Candy was hanging upside down from the ceiling while Grenda was punching a wall in excitement.

“Who is this new boy?” Candy questioned, dangling from the ceiling. Morty vigorously wiped glitter off of his body before laughing oddly.

“That’s Morty! He’s staying here for a few days.” Mabel answered, shooting a confetti gun up at Candy. “POW!”

“Hey Mabel. Morty’s sleeping up here tonight so it’s gonna be kinda cramped up here.” Dipper informed as he coughed out glitter and patted his hair. “Also you do realize we’re going to be cleaning glitter out of this room for the rest of the summer right?”

“Pshhhh I know that.” Mabel waved her arm. “And YES SLEEPOVER!”

“SLEEPOVER! SLEEPOVER!” The girls chanted as Mabel noticed the axolotl on Dipper’s shoulder, who had been hit by the blast of glitter and was softly coughing and shaking his head to get it off. “IS THAT A LIZARD!?”

“Axolotl, and yes.” Dipper took Pickles off his shoulder and held him up. “This is Pickles. He’s a super intelligent giant Axolotl we adopted from the dimension where axolotls rule the world!”

“SHUT UP!” Mabel shoved her face in Pickles’. “He’s so CUTE! And his face is so derpy!”

Pickles sneezed glitter with the arrival of Mabel’s face, and Dipper placed him back on his shoulder. “I think you’re freaking him out Mabel.”

“I AM NOT HE LOVES ME!”

The twins bantered for a little while, while Candy and Grenda played some strange board game, Candy hanging from the ceiling the whole time. Morty made his way over to Dipper’s bed, where he sighed and thought. He would try speaking to Rick tomorrow. After all, he seemed like he was in pretty bad shape and, as much as Morty was angry at him, he WAS his grandpa.

He spent the next few hours reciting what he was going to say to Rick the next morning, before realizing everyone else had fallen asleep, and plopping himself on a spare sleeping bag. He lay there, Pickles curled up on his chest, and eventually fell asleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, the children all woke up early and ran down to the kitchen, expecting Stan to be cooking breakfast. Pickles settled on Dipper’s shoulder, giving very minute yawns that made quiet squeaking sounds that resulted in several “Awwwwwww”s from the girls. As they reached the kitchen Dipper was surprised to see noone in the kitchen, odd seeing as Stan was usually very rigorous with his routine.

“He fell asleep on the chair in the living room.” Mabel told Dipper, uncharacteristically serious. “I think something weird was going on last night.”

Morty and Dipper quickly made their way to the living room, where they spotted Stan sleeping contently on the couch. Something seemed off though. There was a off-colored stain on the carpet Dipper hadn’t seen before, and Stan….

“Holy crap, his eye!” Dipper exclaimed in a whisper. Stan’s eyes slightly opened, and he blinked tiredly before spotting the two boys and jolting up, not-so-subtly covering his black eye up with one of his hands.

“H-hey kiddo! It’s a bit early en’t it?!” Stan stammered, giving a way too wide smile.

“It’s 8 o’clock Grunkle Stan.” Dipper crossed his arms in a concerned fashion. “What happened to your eye?”

Morty squinted in concern, before piecing something together and slowly growing angry.

“It was Rick wasn’t it?!” Morty raised his voice scarily, causing Dipper to look at Morty in surprise.

Stan seemed too tired to come up with and excuse, and instead removed his hand and rubbed his nose.

“Oy….It ain’t the big a deal. We had a little scuffle sure, but he just got drunk and it ended up fine so calm down kid….”

“That son of a BITCH!” Morty swore, storming out of the room to the surprise of both Stan and Dipper.

“Morty! Wait-” Dipper tried to go after him, before Stan grabbed his arm and shook his head.

“This isn’t our business kid. Leave him be.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rick was rudely awoken by a huge BANG that shook in his room. Morty had slammed the door open and was now standing in the doorway with a furious look to his eyes. This was the least of Rick’s immediate problems however, seeing as he had a hangover worse than if twenty anvils had been dropped on his head.

“RICK!” Morty yelled, forcing Rick to sit up and focus his eyes a moment.

“Guh…..uh….wha...t? Morty? Give-give your grandpa a-a minute. Jesus…” Rick clumsily reached for a handful of aspirin tablets that were still littered all over the floor. He popped them and flopped painfully back on the couch. “Fuck man…..that one was rough….”

“RICK I-I-I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!” Morty slammed the door shut behind him, induced a small flinch from Rick as he cocked an eyebrow at Morty.

“W-what’s got you all riled up?” Rick asked, curious as to what had set Morty off this time.

“MR. PINES LET YOU INTO THIS HOUSE, COOKED YOU FOOD, PUT UP WITH ALL YOUR BULLSHIT, AND HOW DO YOU REPAY HIM?!” Morty was on the verge of breaking something. “YOU BEAT HIM UP! YOU-YOU GAVE HIM A BLACK FUCKING EYE RICK!”

Rick quickly sat up and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I did what now?”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!” Morty repeated. “HE’S YOUR FRIEND! H-HE HAS TWELVE YEAR OLD KIDS IN THE HOUSE! WHY ARE YOU SO INSISTENT ON RUINING THE LIFE OF EVERYONE YOU COME INTO CONTACT WITH! MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Woah woah Morty! Calm down….” Rick tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. He had beat up Stan? I mean it was possible. He DID have quite a bit to drink last night…..was Stan alright? His mind was racing too fast to come up with anything that helped identify the situation. “I-I don’t remember anything that happened last night….I-I was pretty shitfaced not gonna lie….”

“TYPICAL you know!? FUCKING typical!” Morty waved his arms wildly. “You always think ‘Oh well-well even if I do terrible shit to people who care about me, they’ll still put up with me! I can traumatize my grandson every day of his life, and he’ll still be ok with everything! Maybe I’ll beat up my BEST FRIEND while drunk out of my mind, but it’s ok because I WON’T REMEMBER IT! MAYBE I’LL-I’LL GET MY ENTIRE PLANET BLOWN UP! BUT MY GRANDSON WILL BE FINE YOU KNOW! IT’S NOT LIKE HIS ENTIRE FAMILY GOT KILLED RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM!’ YOU KNOW WHAT RICK!? I’M DONE WITH THIS SHIT! I’M DONE!”

Morty threw the door open and stormed out, resulting in Rick falling off the couch and stumbling after him. He didn’t want Morty doing anything stupid. He almost never got THIS angry at Rick.

“Morty wait!”

Morty barged into Stan’s office, where he grabbed the portal gun from the night before and dialed something. Dipper had ran in, having released himself from Stan’s grasp and checking out what was going on, while Rick leaned against the doorway painfully. He noticed the gun and his eyes widened.

“I-Is that a portal gun!?” Morty quickly shot a portal in the wall and grabbed an utterly bewildered Dipper’s arm as he jumped in. “MORTY YOU FUCKING-”

The portal disappeared right as Morty, Dipper, and Pickles jumped through. Rick fell to his knees, clutching at his hair in desperation.

“GODDAMMIT!” He yelled out, causing Stan and Mabel to run in to check out the situation.

“Rick what happened?” Stan asked worriedly. “Where’s Dipper?”

“Why didn’t you TELL me you had a fucking portal gun!?” Rick shouted, glaring at Stan. “Morty fucking TOOK it! He took the kid with the hat! That fucking BRAT!”

“WHAT!?” Stan’s face exploded with fear. “HE TOOK DIPPER!?”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A PORTAL GUN STAN?!” Rick shouted, pointing a finger harshly at Stan. “WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE ONE!? Y-YOU’D BETTER HAVE A GOOD FUCKING ANSWER FOR THIS ONE!”

“You left it here last time Rick!” Stan’s voice wavered in fear for both his own safety and his maniacal worry for Dipper. “I completely forgot about it! I shoved it under some crap hoping you might come back for it, but you never did! And after ten years I forgot I even had it! I SWEAR I’m not lying to you!”

“Grunkle Stan!?” Mabel’s voice was finally heard throughout the confusion, and Stan’s attention went directly toward her.

“Mabel, do you have any idea how Morty could’ve known about the portal gun in my office? This is really important sweetie, did he say anything about it? Anything at all?”

Mabel pursed her lips, frightened by the intense stares coming from everyone in the room, before guiltily looking down.

“Last night Dipper and Morty went adventuring….” Mabel swallowed trying not to cry. “That’s why we ran in on Grunkle Rick…...to distract him so that they could take his portal gun….I’m so sorry Grunkle Stan!”

“I’ll deal with your punishment in a little bit Mabel….” Stan said quietly, strangely stern, looking toward Rick, who had finally met his eyes and slightly faltered at the sight of Stan’s injuries. “What now Rick? How do you propose we get my nephew back?”

Rick’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had arrived, and he sat tiredly on the ground, rubbing his temple in frustration.

“Well…..at this point we have two outcomes….either Morty and that kid with the hat come back after Morty’s cooled his shit a little bit, or-or they don’t come back and I have to track them down and/or replace them….the second option meaning I need to fix my portal gun A.S.A.P….”

“Well, you better go do that right now then.” Stan walked over to a drawer by his desk and pulled out an old cigar box. Mabel guiltily plodded away as Stan pulled out a stale cigar and lit it up. There was a long bout of silence, as Rick stared at the place the portal had been and Stan smoked his cigar.

“....I thought you gave up smoking…..” Rick finally piped up, asking really only to disturb the uncomfortable silence that was obviously directed at him. He was really being high-roaded the past few days and Rick was getting hit hard with all the negativity being thrown at him.

Stan didn’t answer, concentrating on his cigar while Rick got the message and slowly stood up, making his way out the door. Before he left sight however, he stopped and spoke.

“I uh…...I’m sorry…...for whatever I did last night….and for drinking…..and all that I guess….”

“Get my nephew back, and then maybe I’ll forgive you Sanchez….”

Rick gave a nod and walked out of the office, leaving Stan to his cigar. He made his way to his room, where he gently shut the door and looked around the place.

It was an absolute pit. He’d only been here for two days and he’d already Ricked the whole place up. He glanced over at the table he had placed all of his portal gun parts on. He had been fiddling with it on and off all day yesterday, but there was no way that he could have it working safely without proper fluid. If Morty and Dipper didn’t come back on their own, he was royally screwed.

He sat himself in the middle of the couch, staring at the cluttered floor absent-mindedly. He was still recovering from his hangover, and some pains all over his body that he assumed was from the fight he’d had with Stan last night.

His emotional state was absolutely wrecked from the past few days. He’d lost everyone he’d ever cared about, even Stan, and now he couldn’t even portal to another dimension where everything was back to normal again. He tried drowning everything in alcohol, but that only made things worse. He had no option except to hope that maybe Morty would come back with the portal gun…..and it was tearing him apart that he had no control over that. That it was highly probable that Morty despised him so much, that he would abandon him here.

His eyes wandered to the ray gun that he had strategically placed on top of the file cabinet by the couch. He stared at it blankly for a moment, strongly considering offing himself right now. As much as he wanted to, he had to keep his promise to the only man who ever really understood him…..even though now he probably wouldn’t even care. Rick had to be patient.

Rick noticed just then that he wasn’t wearing a shirt under his lab coat, and rolled his eyes at himself. He grabbed his grody blue shirt, damp with unknown liquid and reeled back at the smell. It smelled like day old vomit and a wet dog were soaked in whiskey and left out in the rain all night, he thought comically to himself as he put it on anyway.

He replayed Stan and his conversation from the day before through his mind as he cleaned up the room, making sure everything was just like it was when he first arrived. After he finished, he grabbed a small notebook and pencil from his replenished lab coat and sat at the table where his portal gun parts had been. He wrote something, before tearing the paper out of the notebook and setting it on the table, grabbing his gun gingerly from the top of the file cabinet, stuffing it in his coat pocket, and leaving the room without looking back.

The note said:

“You won’t need to scrape my brains off of the wall, so I kept my promise. Thought you would have been a bit more smart seeing as you’re supposed to be a conartist. I wish I hadn’t fucked everything up and if it means anything, I’m sorry. Hopefully another version of me won’t try to bother you when I’m gone. Bye Stanley. -Rick”

Chapter Text

It was a dark room, dimly lit with only a red lamp on a table where a Rick sat. His expression was stern, more professional than an average Rick, and he wore a freshly ironed suit with a red tie. In front of him were three Mortys, dressed identically to the Rick. They each had slight differences to each other, one having a small spray of freckles on his worried faced, another with a consistent blank look to his, and the last having a wide evil grin that could make a supervillain blush, along with a small scar around his eye.

“We’ve had the rubble of Earth L-413 scanned for its Rick and Morty….but we can’t find any remnants. Apparently they escaped.” Recited the Morty with the blank expression. He had almost a robotic sort of voice, calm and void of any emotion. The Rick in front of them frowned deeply.

“Find them. We can’t let Rick L-413 stick around….not with the information he has. Chaotic Morty, look around the Citadel, maybe he’s hiding among us. That’s what I’d do….and he is me.”

“Sure thing boss.” Spat the evil looking one, giving a sarcastic salute before leaving.

“Neutral Morty, take Lawful Morty with you to the Council and see if they can track L-413 down. We have an…….agreement with them as you know, so they won’t try to arrest you two.”

Neutral Morty nodded and guided Lawful Morty along with him as they left the room. They had to find this Rick at any cost, or else the Citadel would be in grave danger.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Dipper had been yanked through the portal with such force that he tumbled forward, splashing face-first into a large rain puddle. He spluttered a moment, getting to his feet and reorienting himself with his new, strange surroundings.

It was raining hard, about 11 o’clock at night from what he could deduce, and Dipper was already soaking wet. Pickles attempted to shield himself from the pouring rain by hiding under Dipper’s vest, to no avail. As he looked around, he found himself in a very high-tech, yet unkept urban area with different versions of Morty everywhere he looked. Hip-hop music was blasting from a Morty’s boombox in an alleyway, while others skateboarded, smoked strange paper rolls, and other actions that Dipper couldn’t quite make out. It smelled terrible, and the dampness of the air around him made him very antsy.

“Welcome to Mortytown.” Said the familiar tired voice of the Morty he was traveling with. “The part of the Citadel we Mortys are shoved off to when we aren’t wanted.”

Dipper stared at the countless Mortys all around him, slowly accustoming himself to the concept of different versions of his friend. Pickles seemed freaked out as well, hiding himself under Dipper’s vest.

“Morty…..why did you drag me here?!” Dipper was finally oriented enough to understand the severity of what Morty had done. “You do realize your grandpa saw us right?! Stan’s going to flip out!”

“C’mon let’s go somewhere.” Morty replied curtly, grabbing Dipper by the arm and pulling him a little too harshly to a shady looking place nearby with neon lights that spelled out “The Creepy Morty.”

Upon entering, Dipper was hit by a wave of overwhelmingly new and strange smells. Many seemed to be wafting from several Morty’s in the corner of the building holding strange tube things and smoking them. In the middle of the area, Mortys dressed in costumes were dancing strangely for other Mortys who seemed to be ogling them. Morty continued to drag Dipper over to a bar, where he motioned for Dipper to sit after taking a seat himself.

“Bartender!” Morty called out, raising a finger to a Bartender Morty cleaning glasses behind the counter. Bartender Morty raised a brow at Morty, waiting for him to order.

“I-I’d like a strong glass of cranberry juice please…...and-and Dipper over here will just take a water.”

The Bartender Morty poured the juice into a shot glass and slid it over to Morty, who took the shot and placed it down tiredly.

Dipper was too busy taking in the chaos of the place. There was an arcade area...except the games all revolved around chance type games like slots and blackjack…..a gambling area. He swallowed nervously at the revelation, and watched uncomfortably as a Morty with a blue shirt kept repeatedly pulling a lever on a machine. His eyes were wide and maniacal as he grew more and more obsessed with winning the more he pulled, like he was entranced by the machine and nothing else was around him.

“Uh…….Morty……” Dipper looked back toward his Morty, who had taken another cranberry juice shot. “….what are we doing here? I’m kinda weirded out….”

“I need information.” Morty looked toward Bartender Morty, who at those words quirked his eyebrows curiously.

“Information?” Bartender Morty leaned against the counter. “What kind of information? I assume it has to be something important seeing as you’ve got a Dipper with you. That’s not something you see everyday here in this part of the multiverse.”

“Well, I guess I’m not your everyday Morty then.” Morty replied somewhat defensively, sipping his glass. The bartender gave Dipper his water, and Dipper looked at it a moment, reeling in his thoughts.

“.......so there are other Mortys who are friends with me? Like is that a common thing?”

“The term ‘common’ is relative.” Bartender Morty placed his elbows on the counter, looking at Dipper sternly. He had the same voice as his Morty, except his stutter was repressed and he spoke in an articulate fashion. He also looked the same, despite wearing a bartender outfit with a purple bowtie. “Compared to other factors in the central finite curve, you two knowing each other is pretty rare actually.”

“.....what...?” Dipper blinked in utter confusion as Morty placed his juice glass on the counter. Pickles had peeked from under Dipper’s vest, seemingly listening to the conversation as well.

“D-Dipper’s super new to the whole dimension traveling stuff, so like…..I don’t think he understands all that stuff. We do cause Rick rambles on and on about it but….”

“Oh alright. I understand.” Bartender Morty gave a chuckle and began cleaning glasses as he talked. “Well seeing as you’ve gone so far as-as to take him out to Mortytown, I might as well tell him the basics. Spare you the trouble of him asking you a buncha questions.”

“Hey….” Dipper’s eyes hid under his hat in slight embarrassment. It was strange being treated as if he was an object here and not a special individual. He felt an unwelcome feeling of existential insignificance creeping up on him, as well as the persistent need to shield his eyes from other Mortys in the bar. They freaked him out.

“I mean if you wanna….I don’t mind. Can I have another glass?” Morty asked, spinning his glass impatiently. Bartender Morty filled it up and began talking.

“Alright so, you know there’s infinite realities right? Infinite dimensions and everything?”

“Yeah I guess so.” Dipper fidgeted with his hat. “I mean….I know that hypothetically there’s infinite possibilities and junk….like no end…..but then again I mean, how do you measure something being rare? I mean if there’s infinite realities wouldn’t there be infinite versions of Morty and I being friends or something?”

“You’re a smart guy.” Bartender Morty grinned. “Yeah you’re right….but you're missing one thing. You’re not taking into account the infinite realities that we cannot access.”

“Excuse me, what now?” Dipper loved analyzing confusing things, but his brain was already cartwheeling all over the place.

“You see, Rick’s portal gun is revolutionary. I mean, no other living organism in the central finite curve has created anything quite as mind-blowing as it. However, as revolutionary as it may be, it’s damn near impossible to create anything that has the ability to encapsulate INFINITY. So, what Rick and the versions of himself in the same area of the multiverse settled on, was to program their guns to access only certain parts of the infinity, thus creating a finite field to travel in.”

“I’m sorry, what? I don’t really understand….” Dipper said sadly. “It’s confusing…..how do they choose which parts to include? And like…..I dunno….”

Bartender Morty thought a moment, before taking out a pen and a napkin and drawing a line on it.

“Alright, so this is a stretch, but imagine this line is infinity ok? It goes on forever and all that crap.” Dipper nodded, and Bartender Morty drew two dots rather close to each other on the line. “And imagine that the space between these two dots are all of the infinite universes that include Rick. You with me?”

“I think so….” Both Dipper and Pickles focused intently on the line.

“Alright. So let’s say we zoom in on this tiny part of infinity where all the Ricks are.” Bartender Morty flipped the napkin over and drew an almost identical line to the one on the other side. “And this one goes on forever and ever too, except the whole line has different versions of Rick. Now, this is when it gets kind of hard to follow ok?”

“Ok.” Dipper sipped on his water intently as Morty turned his attention to the other Mortys in the bar.

“Say, figuratively, that there is one Rick that decides that he is the ‘Rickest Rick’ for lack of a better term.”

He drew a dot in the middle of the line.

“So that would mean he is the ‘Prime Rick’, or the exact middle of the infinite Rickverses. He is the Rick that every other version of himself is based around. The closer to the dot, or the closer a Rick is to being the Prime Rick, the more similar he will be to the Prime Rick. On the flipside, the farther away from the dot, the less alike they will be.”

Bartender Morty drew two more dots on either side of the middle one.

“This area right here is called the ‘Central Finite Curve’, which is a finite area where the Ricks are relatively similar to the established ‘Prime Rick’. Anything outside of this area can include anything from Ricks so different from the ‘Prime Rick’ that they almost cannot be considered Ricks, to Ricks on uninhabitable planes of existences, to Ricks that lead totally different lives and lifestyles, and much, much more. Basically Ricks that don’t fit the status quo of a ‘Rick’.”

It took Dipper a few run-throughs to understand, but it seemed to finally click with him.

“So…..how does that tie in with this reality? And Morty’s Rick? Where are we on the line……?” Dipper asked, brain starting to hurt from all this dimension nonsense.

“Well….” Bartender Morty crumpled up the napkin and tossed it aside. “The Rick that created our citadel, or the Prime Rick of our specific curve, was a Rick with spiky blue hair, labcoat, etc etc. Our small little slice of the Rickverse is based around that version of a Rick. Since a Morty and Rick from this version of the Citadel came to you specifically, that means that whatever universe you’re from is somewhere on the curve. That make sense?”

“I guess…..” Dipper looked around him at all the different Mortys. He reeled back at a few strange ones, such as a skeleton Morty and a fish Morty. “What about them? Aren’t they a bit too weird for this citadel?”

“They aren’t ‘weird’ enough to not be considered Mortys.” The Bartender Morty adjusted his bowtie. “You can still clearly tell that they’re Mortys right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then they’re on the curve. See what I’m getting at? Now just because many Rick’s are similar here in the citadel, that doesn’t mean there are trillions upon trillions of Ricks on the curve that aren’t a part of the citadel or even documented. The council tries to document every Rick and Morty on the curve, but that’s tedious work and you’re always going to miss a few million.”

“Y-Yeah so my Rick hates the citadel, but he’s still documented and everything.” Morty returned to the conversation. “My Rick’s pretty close to the Prime Rick of this curve I think….and I’m really close to the Prime Morty. I-It’s really not as complicated as he made it out to be.”

“I think I sorta understand now…..” Dipper gave a weak smile. “So….in this curve, me and Morty being friends is rare?”

“Yeah. Probability is a big factor in determining curves too. Like you can have a Rick that looks and acts exactly like the Prime Rick of this curve, but because of a bunch of different factors of his personal life differ from the Prime Rick, he isn’t a part of the curve.” Bartender Morty continued. “For instance, Prime Rick wasn’t friends with a Stan. I assume your Rick was, so already your Rick has a major factor separating him from the Prime Rick. Only about 3% of the Ricks in this curve are friends with a Stan.”

“This is new information to me. “Morty replied curiously. “I-I didn’t even know Mr. Pines existed until recently. I-I always thought we were really close to the middle? But I guess you know more than me”

Dipper looked at Morty curiously. “What do you mean?

“I’ve been around Dipper.” Bartender Morty answered. “I’ve worked at the Citadel for years….and I’m also involved with the Council AND the Citadel Mafia…..” Bartender Morty looked around suspiciously. “As I was saying before, the probability of a Rick being friends with a Stan, and all of the factors playing into your exact existence Dipper, well…...it’s rare to say the least.”

“Huh….” Morty, Pickles, and Dipper glanced at each other.

A wave of silence passed between the three, before Bartender Morty cleared his throat and changed the topic.

“So, you said you needed information?”

Morty peered at the other curiously.

“Yeah. You think we could go somewhere a bit more private? I-it’s kinda serious.”

Bartender Morty nodded and did a double take, before motioning the two boys to a door that said “Employees only.”

“In here. I’m the only one on staff today, so it should be barren as hell.” He said, opening the door and shooing the two inside.

They found themselves in a cramped room with a small, torn apart couch and a cooler with nothing inside but ice. Bartender Morty shut and locked the door, before grabbing an ice cube from the cooler and popping it in his mouth, crossing his arms expectantly.

“So? Hit me.”

Dipper surveyed Morty’s expression, which was very difficult to read. Was this why he had brought Dipper here? To ask for something?

“Do you know anything about Earth L-413?” Morty said, slightly monotone. Bartender Morty raised a brow. Nobody noticed Pickles crawling off of Dipper and into the cooler.

“What do I look like? A Rick? I-I don’t know the exact credentials of every single dimension bro.”

“It was destroyed. Completely blown up.” Morty added.

Bartender Morty’s expression showed confusion for a moment, before fear danced along his face and he leaned toward the two, speaking in a panicked whisper.

“Your planet was blown up?”

Morty seemed alarmed at Bartender Morty’s sudden shift in tone.

“Yeah?”

“By who?” Bartender Morty pressed.

“I-I don’t know some ZicZackians came down and blew the whole thing up for some reason…..Even Rick seemed taken off guard….we don’t even have ZicZackians in our universe. I-It’s strange you know?”

Bartender Morty’s eyes shifted uncomfortably, as if he didn’t want to say anything, before he opened his mouth.

“Look. I may know who blew up your Earth and why…...but….it’s pretty heavy stuff, and you have to swear that you won’t go after these people. They are way out of the league of your everyday Morty….and if you go after them……..millions of Ricks and Mortys could die…...”

“I-I told you, Bartender.” Morty sat on the couch, ears perked to listen to what he had to say. “I’m not your everyday Morty. N-Now tell me, who are the bastards that killed my family?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rick walked silently through the shack, mind racing and his hands buried deep in his pockets. In his pockets, he felt for his gun, secretly gripping it and gaining a sick sort of comfort. It would be over soon, he thought to himself as he plodded through the hallway. Just gotta get out of this goddamned shack first.

He had reached the gift shop, and was nearly at the door when he heard the all-too familiar voice of his friend quietly behind him.

“Where are you going?”

Rick didn’t look back. He already knew that Stan was stationed by the door looking toward him, and instead he focused his attention downward.

“For a walk.” Rick replied coldly. He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it slightly.

“A walk where?” Stan asked again, a hint of nervousness laced within his stern tone.

“Outside.” Rick prepared to open the door. He wished Stan would just leave him be. Hearing him speak in that timid, hurt tone just made him want to disappear more.

“Look Rick…..I made some coffee…..” Rick could almost hear the expression on Stan’s face. The stern yet obviously worried expression he would always wear when Rick had fucked up. He’d seen that expression so many times, he could even hear it. God, he hated that expression. “I thought….maybe we could sit and talk for a little. Just a little.”

Rick continued to stare at the door in front of him for a moment, before letting go of the doorknob and turning around, a blank look to his face.

“Lee I’m fine. I don’t need you breathing down my damn neck all the time….You said it yourself that you want me gone. So I’m going……...on a walk.”

“I was angry Rick just…..” Stan gave an exasperated sigh. “Sit down for coffee with me…..it’ll take five minutes.”

Rick stared at Stan for a solid thirty seconds, before groaning and walking back towards him, pushing him aside to get to the kitchen. Stan followed, silently relieved.

The two men sat across from each other on the table, both with untouched cups of coffee in front of them. They sat there unspeaking for a while, before Rick ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and broke the silence.

“S-so, we’re here. Why aren’t you talking? W-wasn’t that the whole fucking point of this?”

“What happened Rick?” Stan asked, finally burying his anger and nervousness enough to ask. “Things were so good between us for years…..and now you’re nearly as bad as you were back in your twenties. You were HAPPY Rick…..”

Rick didn’t answer, focusing his attention on his coffee mug.

“It had always been Rick and Stan…..I’d help you with your crazy adventures, and you’d help me with all my conartistry bullshit. I took you in when you had nowhere else to go. You helped me try to bring my brother back. You had a beautiful wife and daughter…..I had a successful business…..what happened to us Sanchez?”

Rick mumbled something.

“What?” Stan asked.

“I was never happy Lee…..” Rick repeated, tracing his finger against the cup handle. “I mean….I was happy...but-but I was never really….HAPPY, you know?”

“But things were so good until your wife left you…..” Stan sighed, taking a sip from his mug. “I mean, when I first met you, you were messed up…..but you got better. And now it’s as if all that progress you made on yourself disappeared as soon as Diane left….You never even told me what happened.”

“It isn’t all about fucking Diane.” Rick growled angrily. “It-it was better for both of us. Don’t bring her into whatever the hell’s wrong with me. Cause she isn’t the problem here.”

“Then what is?” Stan was trying to weasel Rick to tell him what was going on in his head. He was always good at getting people to tell him things, and Rick was no exception. “Rick? What
the problem?”

“It’s been five minutes. Can I go now?” Rick glared up, clearly wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Rick.” Stan warned, his voice giving away his frustration.

“I don’t have any goddamn fluid for my portal gun and-and my grandson just fucking stole the other one you apparently had, ok!? I’m STUCK here! Morty hates me, my daughter’s dead, my planet’s gone, and you want ME fucking gone! Of course I feel shitty Stan, wouldn’t you?!”

Stan’s brow raised in concern. “You don’t have any fluid?”

“I have nowhere else to go. Can’t you see? There’s not even another Rick in this universe so I can’t even fucking just build a spaceship and meet that motherfucker. I’m stuck here unless Morty comes back, and as far as I know, he’s so pissed at me, he wouldn’t.”

“Can’t you just make some fluid?” Stan asked, voice giving away his sudden worry.

“Do you know how fucking complex making safe portal gun fluid is? I-I get mine from the Citadel because it’s made from Ricks who make it every goddamn day.”

“But what about Dipper?” Stan’s voice wavered, fright apparent in his tone. Guilt clouded Rick’s features, and he covered his eyes with a shaky hand.

“I’m sorry about your nephew Lee…...but unless Morty comes back I don’t know what to tell you….”

“What will I tell Mabel?” Stan seemed to finally realize that Dipper might not be coming back, and he desperately tried to keep himself together. “What….what would I tell her Rick?”

“That’s not my problem Stan.” Rick stood up and made his way to the door. “For what it’s worth…..I’m sorry I fucked things up again. I really am. I’m going for a walk.”

Stan made no attempt to stop Rick from leaving, and as he heard the gift shop door slam closed, he couldn’t hold back his tears. He covered his face in fear that someone was watching, and quietly wept, unsure of what to do anymore. All he had was the slim hope that Morty would return with his nephew, but even that seemed too hopeful now. As he cried at the kitchen table, he wondered what his life would be like if he had never met Rick….

Maybe it would’ve been better.

XXXXXXXXXXX

“What if I told you that your Rick has the ability to wipe out every single Rick in the central finite curve with a single liquid.”

With Bartender Morty’s words, both Dipper and Morty’s face were overtaken with fear.

“.....what?” Morty breathed.

“Only .01% of the Ricks have this technology……it’s absolutely astounding. It’s a liquid that, when consumed by an organism who is promptly killed shortly after, it wipes out every single one of itself in every conceivable reality in a curve.”

Dipper and Morty grew silent, before Morty stammered nervously.

“But…..why is this a big deal? Rick wouldn’t…..he wouldn’t be stupid enough to DRINK it? I-I don’t see the problem here……”

“How well do you know your Rick, Morty?” Bartender Morty laced his hands together, preparing for a very difficult conversation. Morty thought feverishly a moment, before a realization dawned on his face.

“.....no…..he wouldn’t….he isn’t…..”

“Morty, your grandfather having this liquid is dangerous…...and that’s an understatement. I don’t think you understand…..EVERY Rick in the central finite curve would just blink from existence.”

Dipper was very confused at what was going on, and why Morty seemed to be having a mental breakdown next to him. “I’m sorry…..but I don’t think I understand why this is an issue like Morty….I guess does….”

“Think a moment Dipper…..I understand you don’t know Rick very well….but why do you think someone having this ability would be dangerous? Especially someone as unstable and, frankly, as important as Rick is.”

Dipper puzzled over this a while, as Morty gently lay a hand over his mouth in difficult consideration. Dipper thought, before he blinked in understanding.

“...oh.”

“Most Ricks are not very emotionally stable. Many hide it better than others, but just the mere existence of this liquid is a sign that the Rick’s higher up should be taking action.”

“So…..they blew up my planet…..to stop Rick from killing himself….himselves…..?” Morty phrased as a question, but already knew the answer.

“....wow…” Dipper fidgeted with his hat uncomfortably. “That’s…..really heavy….”

“But my Rick’s still alive.” Morty looked up at Bartender Morty. “And….he’s not doing very well.”

“I heard a report that the liquid from your planet was destroyed, however…since you aren’t with your grandfather right now, the Ricks will be able to track him easily and kill him to make sure he doesn’t whip up another batch…..unless there is another brain wave stabilizer around him.” Bartender Morty seemed in deep thought. “Stan….your Rick is safe because he has a Stan.”

Now it was Dipper’s turn to be surprised. “Grunkle Stan?!”

“Yes. See Mortys and Ricks have a special bond, because their brain waves compliment each other and hide them from trackers. Stan must be another one, which would explain why they haven’t found him yet.”

“This is…..a lot to take in.” Morty shook his head. “So…..the ones who blew up my planet…..it was the Council of Ricks?”

“In ordinance with the Citadel Mafia.” Bartender Morty popped another ice cube. “The Mafia paid some ZicZackians to do their dirty work so they wouldn’t be held accountable for a mass-murder of Ricks. Pretty smart actually. They’ve been killing Ricks and Mortys for a long time.”

“W-where are they located?” Morty asked, determination in his voice. “I need to speak with them. They don’t have to….to blow up planets. Maybe if-if they let us Mortys know about it, we could talk to our Ricks about it…..”

“I’m not going to tell you where the Mafia is stationed Morty…” Bartender Morty sternly stared into his eyes. “They are the most powerful organization in the Citadel…..they could kill you before you even knew they were coming. They’re ruthless.”

“Morty…..we should listen to him.” Dipper wrung his hands nervously as Pickles left the cooler and settled back on Dipper’s shoulder, oblivious to the conversation they had just had. “I-I don’t want to be caught up in this. I want to go back to the shack. Stan’s probably worried sick about me…”

“Come on Dipper.” Morty grabbed his arm and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on the way out. Bartender Morty stared at the door a while, before sighing and walking back to his station.

As he grabbed a glass from the shelf, he heard a Morty voice sound from behind him.

“A glass of tequila please.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t serve alcohol to Mortys. It’s against the Citadel law.” Bartender Morty said flatly as he turned around and gaped. Sitting at the counter was a hardened looking Morty, wearing a finely-pressed black suit with a blood red tie. He had a shit-eating smirk on his face, and a noticeable scar curved around the outside of his left eye.

It was Chaotic Morty, one of the three pawns of Mafia Rick, and the most dangerous Morty on the Citadel.

“Chaotic…...it’s been a while.”

“Who was that Morty who walked out of that room Bart?” Chaotic Morty tilted his head curiously, and evil grin stretching across his face. “Had a Dipper…..you don’t see that everyday.”

“Don’t call me Bart….I’m not a-a Simpsons character…..” Bartender Morty reached under the counter and secretly poured a shot of tequila, which he gave hesitantly to Chaotic Morty. He took the shot and leaned against the counter.

“Don’t dodge my question.” He said.

“He was a friend. Stopped by because his Rick dropped them off here. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Hm.” Chaotic Morty’s eyes bored into Bartender Morty’s, before giving a chuckle and dropping his voice to a frightening pitch.

“Maybe wanna rethink your answer, punk?”

Bartender Morty’s heart dropped to his stomach in fear. Chaotic Morty wasn’t someone to toy around with, even if they were close partners.

“He asked…..” Bartender Morty swallowed, flexing his fingers nervously. “....about the Russian Roulette games that I host here….and about how to get Dipper home….that’s it I swear….”

Chaotic Morty shifted expressions and seemed a bit less threatening. He raised his empty glass in thanks.

“Well now. That wasn’t so hard. Now that the unpleasantries are out of the way, how’s about we get out of here and get something to drink? Oh wait…..we’re already at a bar…..”

“You do realize that I’m not into other Mortys, right?” Bartender Morty embraced the sudden change of topic.

“That’s what they all say.” Chaotic Morty leaned forward flirtatiously. Bartender Morty rolled his eyes.

“Gross….”

Chaotic Morty laughed and leaned back. “Haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

“Nope. Want another drink?” Bartender Morty said with a smart smile.

“You know I do, Bart.”

Chapter Text

Grenda and Candy had left quickly after the incident with Dipper and Morty, figuring that whatever had happened was a family matter that they probably shouldn’t be involved in. Mabel was alone in her room in silent terror, nearly puking from the absolute uncertainty that worried her down to a stump. Waddles was nuzzled in her lap as she sat on the bed, feeding off of her anxiousness and trying to relieve the stress a bit with small snorts and snuffles. Mabel appreciated the gesture from her pig, but she was too preoccupied with her overwhelming guilt at the moment to reciprocate. Usually Dipper was the anxious one, but now Dipper could be in serious danger, and it was all because of her. If she had just told Rick or Stan about their plan, it all could’ve been avoided.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a large growl from her stomach. She rubbed her gut painfully, realizing that she hadn’t had any breakfast that morning and she was in danger of missing lunch as well.

She wiped her wet eyes on the sleeve of her bright pink sweater and hopped off of her bed, looking forlornly at the absurd amount of glitter and confetti around the room from last night. The sight was another punch to the gut. Just last night she had been so excited about the glitter war, and now it all just seemed like a bunch of work to clean up.

She slowly tip-toed down the stairs in fear she would run into Stan. She knew that he was angry at her, and she prefered to avoid him until Rick brought Dipper and Morty back, or at least until Stan had cooled down a bit.

She was almost to the kitchen when the sound of a door slamming made her jump. She hid behind a plant, realizing that it was way too small for her to successfully hide behind and instead, carried it with her to give her a weird sort of courage as she shuffled into the kitchen. She looked around timidly, before yipping as she saw Stan sitting at the table with his face covered by his hands.

She attempted to hide behind the refrigerator, instead sending the plant clattering to the ground and knocking a few other things over in the process. Stan quickly darted upwards and their eyes met. Mabel was expecting her Grunkle’s eyes to be angry, but instead they were puffy and red.

“Grunkle Stan?” She cautiously stepped away from the refrigerator. “Are you crying?”

Stan quickly broke eye contact and rubbed his eyes vigorously, attempting to hide his distraught state of mind.

“N-no i just had uh….coffee in my eye! Heh heh….uh…” He seemed to realize he wasn’t fooling anybody and gave a long sigh. “I’m fine kiddo. Just worried about your brother is all.”

“He’ll be fine!” Mabel hid her massive concern with a toothy grin. That’s how she always dealt with serious situations, with massive amounts of optimism to try to make everything seem ok. “Morty’s a good guy and Dipper can take care of himself, I mean, he beat up a giant robot thing before! He’s a tough guy!”

Stan faked a relieved smile and tousled the girl’s hair.

“Yeah you’re right. He’s a tough kid.”

Mabel nodded gleefully, before resorting back to her innocently curious frown. It seemed like something else was troubling her Grunkle, and she would be darned if she didn’t try to help make him feel better. She was a ray of optimism that would shine upon her Grunkle’s broken heart…..or soul…..or whatever metaphorical idea Stan had that needed fixing.

“How’s Grunkle Rick?” Mabel asked curiously. Stan made no movement at the question, and instead glanced out the window worriedly.

“To tell you the truth Mabel, not too good.” Stan answered. Mabel cocked her head like a puppy awaiting a treat. Stan seemed to realize how pessimistic that sounded and waved his arms passively. “Oh but it’s not that bad! It’s alright! I just have a lot of my mind right now.”

“Did he hurt you again?” She pressed, her voice wavering a bit more serious. The question took Stan by surprise and shook his head.

“No no no, that’s not what’s going on. It’s not about that sweetie it’s….complicated stuff.”

“Like what?” Mabel pressed. She might’ve been a very optimistic and kind person, but if this Rick guy was hurting her Grunkle, she wouldn’t stand for that.

“I’d rather not talk about it right now.” Stan rubbed his nose, wanting to change the subject.

“Are you still in love with him?” Mabel asked with a straight face. Stan pretended to have a violent coughing fit at that question.

“Mabel COUGH why don’t you go hang out with Wendy or something and let me COUGH deal with my own problems COUGH.”

Mabel’s eyes lit up and she gave a squeal. It was a welcome lift in the conversation. Maybe if she made a big deal over this, it would distract everyone from their troubles. All she knew was that she REALLY needed a distraction right now.

“Oh my gosh YOU ARE!”

“Mabel.” Stan rubbed his temple is exasperation. “That’s the least of my worries right now alright? Let’s focus on the more urgent matters right now, like Dipper getting home.”

“A lovesick soul still longing for his previous true love! It’s straight out of a storybook!” Mabel was barely listening. “You gotta tell him! I gotta tell him! Where is he!? Is he in his room!?”

“No Mabel.” She was already gone, and Stan gave a light chuckle. How could that kid stay so positive during such a stressful time? It was a mystery to Stan. He kept glancing out the window as he waited for Mabel to come back, knowing that she would be returning very soon considering Rick wasn’t there.

He took one last sip of his now lukewarm coffee and set it by the side of the table. He gave a small smile, before he heard the distraught cry of Mabel from Rick’s room.

“GRUNKLE STAN!?”

Within five seconds, Stan was in Rick’s room where he saw Mabel holding a small piece of paper with Rick’s handwriting on it. Within ten seconds, Stan was out the door with that same piece of paper in his hand, Mabel following closely behind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“MORTY WILL YOU LET GO OF ME!?”

Morty and Dipper were several blocks away from “The Creepy Morty” when Dipper finally had enough. He ripped his arm from Morty’s iron grip so harshly that Pickles yipped in fright and hopped off of Dipper entirely, positioning himself behind Dipper in a defensive position as he alertly watched the two boys glare angrily at each other.

“You had better take us back to the shack RIGHT NOW, or else I’m going to ask some other Morty to take me home!” Dipper said with a certain finality to his voice. He wouldn’t take another minute of this from Morty; he KNEW that by this point Mabel and Stan would be flipping out, and he NEEDED to be home.

Morty, on the other hand, had a cold look on his face as he turned to face Dipper.

“That would be a terrible idea you know….terrible idea….I mean you-you don’t even know your own dimension number.”

Dipper swallowed, his anxiety growing with the realization that Morty really WAS the only thing guiding him through the mess of dimension traveling. That didn’t die back his anger however, instead upping his desperation to return home ten-fold.

“Morty please. I’m done with adventures ok?! You made your point! It is crazy and chaotic and disturbing! I just want to go home alright?! Ok?!”

“Dipper come on! Stop being such a...a-a wimp ok!? This is NOTHING compared to what Rick put ME through!” Morty snapped harshly. Morty’s head was so clouded with anger and vengefulness, that all the built up cynicism that he had adopted from Rick over the past year was in immediate danger of spilling out.

“Please Morty. You’re freaking me out man ok?” Dipper pointed at Pickles, who was still looking back and forth with wide eyes. “You’re even freaking PICKLES out! And he’s a SALAMANDER!”

“He’s a super-intelligent AXOLOTL!” Morty barked. “He’s upset because…...he’s just upset because we’re yelling at each other!”

“He’s upset because you want to go get MURDERED by a bunch of mobsters with crazy sci-fi guns and spaceships and bombs that can explode entire planets!” Dipper yelled back. “Do you even realize how absurd that sounds!?”

“Y-You’re such a BABY Dipper!” Morty exploded. “You know, this is important to me! And-and all you want is to just go home and play with your fucking sister because...because nothing matters to you! NOTHING matters to you! You don’t care that these Ricks and these Mortys blew up my planet! You-you just care about your stupid Great Uncle or-or something! You haven’t done anything but-but complain this whole time! You’re more ANNOYING than a fucking swarm of mosquitos, and it physically HURTS to hear you complain and wail when we haven’t even done anything REMOTELY terrifying!”

There was a dreadfully dangerous silence, as Dipper backed away fearfully from a quickly regretful Morty. Morty looked down at his hands in shock.

“Oh my god, I’ve turned into a Rick.”

Dipper swallowed nervously, before quickly picking up a frightened Pickles and pulling him to his chest.

“Take us home. Now.” Dipper demanded, having great difficulty suppressing the shakiness in his voice.

Morty sat on a nearby bench to gather his racing thoughts. He sat there in silence for a long time, long enough for the situation to die down slightly, and long enough for Dipper to gain enough sympathy and courage to sit down next to his friend.

“I didn’t mean…..I just…..I’m sorry…” Morty took his portal gun out and fiddled with the dial, before making a portal and putting the gun back in his pocket. Dipper gave a relieved sigh at the sight, standing up and making his way over. Before he went through, he turned back toward Morty and gave a questioning gesture.

“Aren’t you coming?” He asked.

“I’ve got to finish what I started.” Morty replied, eyes downcast. “I-It was unfair of me to take you along. I guess in a sick way, I liked how it felt to be the Rick for a change….even though he’s a total dick.”

“Morty…” Dipper sighed and sat back on the bench. “I don’t know what Rick did to you or whatever, but running around here trying to kill some Al Capone versions of you isn’t going to fix anything. If anything, it’s making you into the thing you are trying so hard to get rid of. I guess…”

“It’s not that…” Morty interrupted, a frown deepening in his face. “I-I just wanted to prove myself. To prove to Rick….to myself….that I didn’t need him. That I could be the main character of my own story, and not just a sidekick…..a sidekick that’s dragged around to whatever weird random thing the main character decides they want to do.” Morty waved to the portal. “Go home Dipper. You don’t need to be my sidekick, but I-I gotta do this. I gotta.”

Dipper gazed longingly toward the portal. Mabel and Stan were probably worried sick about him….but Morty….he could get killed out here. If he went in there to assure his family back home that they were ok….they wouldn’t let him go back through the portal.

He had made his decision.

“I do need to be your sidekick.” Dipper gave Morty a small smile. “Every hero needs a sidekick right? And I’m not just your sidekick, I’m your friend. And if you’re going to take down an entire Mafia, well by gosh I’m gonna be there.”

Morty looked up at Dipper in surprise, before giving a genuine smile as the portal blipped from existence.

“Ok.” Was all Morty said. Pickles hopped onto Morty’s shoulder and gave him a small lick on the cheek. The boys laughed, before standing up and moving forward toward the next stop in their journey.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was it. This was the moment.

Rick had sat next to some tree in the forest, far enough away from the Shack to not be seen or heard, but close enough for his ashes to be found after a few hours of searching; that is if the wind didn’t blow them away. It was pretty breezy out. As he sat, his mind was an absolute blank, as if he didn’t even have enough energy to think anymore.

He looked around lazily, noticing basic shapes and colors but not the actual objects. Was that collection of green mush a bush or a trash bin? He didn’t know and didn’t care, and in his blissful apathy he took his gun out and set it on his lap.

The only thing he regretted about doing this was that he didn’t have the proper ingredients to make his “suicide-helmet” so to speak….the “suicide-helmet” being a beaker of yellow fluid that was slightly better tasting than piss. Not to be confused with his actual suicide helmet of course, but that had been blown up on his version of Earth, along with everything else he owned.

He regretted not being able to wipe himself out completely, but at least there’d be one less Rick around in the multiverse.

He gave a long, drawn out sigh as he snatched the gun from his lap and shoved it against his head, really not wanting to make things longer than they should. He was killing himself, not playing Romeo in a Shakespearean play.

He closed his eyes, pressing the button that readied the disintegrator, and gladly prepared himself for oblivion.

Rick suddenly felt himself being tackled by some sort of small person, while at the same exact time wrestling with some larger figure over the gun that was supposed to have burnt him to a crisp. The small figure was covering his eyes, and a collection of profanities and the sound of a small girl screaming totally blocked out his hearing. After an absolutely chaotic ten seconds, Rick felt the gun get ripped from his hand and the noises stopped, leaving Rick blinded on his back with only the sound of his own heavy breathing echoing against an unknown soft fabric.

The smaller figure finally got off of him, and his eyes were flooded with sunlight. He made no movement, remaining where he lay as the raspy breathing of three people slowly died down. As his jumbled mind put pieces together, he seemed to finally realized what had happened.

“Stan…?” Rick coughed, focusing on the sunlight above him as he tried to get over the shock of the moment. What he heard wasn’t the voice of Stanley, but the voice of the small girl who was now apparently hugging him.

“It’s ok…..it’s ok Grunkle Rick…..it’s ok….” He heard her choke out, and as he finally pulled his thoughts together, he realized that this girl sounded just like Beth. He had made Beth cry.

And that’s when Rick himself started to cry. Every negative thing that had been building up inside of him poured out in gallons; his planet exploding, Beth and Summer being disintegrated right in front of him, Morty leaving and taking Stan’s nephew with him, the hopelessness that had been coursing through him endlessly ever since he arrived. All of it came spouting out like waterfalls, and it made Rick feel even more miserable as he was not one to cry. He never was. Even through the hardest of times he would suck it in, and bury it all in alcohol and apathy. He was supposed to not care.

He heard some shuffling as he wept, and he found himself sitting up, a large arm around his shoulder and the smell of coffee, stale cigars, and graham crackers overwhelming his senses. It was Stan. The small girl clinging onto his lab coat, that wasn’t Beth….that was Stan’s niece. Rick covered his eyes with one hand as he cried, shamefully trying to hide the tears that just wouldn’t stop.

“I-I-I….” RIck stuttered, attempting to make an excuse as to why he was crying. “I’m not….I’m not…….”

“There there….it’s alright buddy. It’s alright.” Stan coaxed, frigid to the situation as he protectively drew Rick closer to him as he continued to implode from emotion.

“Jesus.” Rick rubbed his eyes roughly with his sleeve and attempted to break contact with the two Pines’. “This is dumb.”

Stan and Mabel gave each other a glance as Rick was able to squirm uncomfortably out of their grasp and walked several feet away from them before stopping. His eyes were still red and puffy as he shakingly pulled out a cigarette. He fumbled through his pockets a moment, before pulling out a lighter and lighting the cigarette, taking a long nervous drag as he avoided the gaze of the two people still sitting by the tree. Stan watched Rick attentively, noticing how adamant he was on hiding his emotions even after they had just stopped him from committing suicide.

It was just like the last time they had seen each other, Stan thought to himself, except instead of hiding his anguish, he had taken it all out on Stan himself.

“You’re just a useless HACK Stanley! A HACK! Maybe your parents had the right idea when they kicked you out of the house! Your brother had every right to leave you out there to die! EVERY right! All-all you do is FUCK UP and ruin people’s lives with your presence! The only reason I decided to stick with you for so fucking long, is because you were so goddamned stupid, you made me look even SMARTER! And LOOK where that got me! THAT’S what I REALLY think about you! Asshole! Go drown yourself in the river. Maybe then you won’t ruin anyone else’s life!”

The words Rick had said to him that awful, awful night still echoed through his mind more often than he wished, even if Rick had been blinded by rage and drugs when he said those things. He was ashamed to admit, after Rick had exploded and left Stan there in despair, that he actually had seriously considered honoring Rick’s request that night. He hadn’t, thankfully, remembering with a welcome feeling of hope that he still had a brother he could make amends to.

Stan had wondered what had gone so terribly wrong since he had returned to see him ten years ago, that he would go from being his closest friend to saying those things out of nowhere.

Looking at Rick now, he saw no anger in his eyes. Only tiredness and defeat, as if life itself had hollowed him out inside out. It was then when Rick dropped the cigarette and snuffed it out with the heel of his shoe, turning back toward his wide-eyed saviours and shoving his hands in his pockets meekly.

He was just about to say something, before a green portal opened up directly behind Rick, causing Rick to reel backward in surprise and instinctively whip out some strange taser-weapon.

A Morty had walked out of the portal, paying no mind to Rick’s weapon being shoved five inches from his face. He raised his hands, showing to Rick that he was unarmed.

“I’m not here to hurt you Rick L-413. I’m here to help.”

Both Stan and Mabel’s jaw hung agape as Rick cocked his brow and slightly lowered his taser, reverting to his usual demeanor almost absurdly fast.

“Hey…..aren’t you that shady bartender from that one garbage strip-club in Mortytown?”

Bartender Morty gave a double take behind him, closing the portal and shoving a portal gun in his apron. Rick eyed the gun desperately, noting that if this meeting didn’t go well, at least he could bum the gun off of him. A slight glimmer of hope and his normal confidence trickled through his mind.

“The one and the same.” Bartender Morty itched his nose uncomfortably. “Look Rick, I could be in SERIOUS trouble if the people I work for found out I was here. I don’t usually deal with Ricks myself. They make me uneasy.”

“Well fuck you too.” Rick ceased pointing his taser at the Morty and instead crossed his arms with a degree of nonchalance. “What is it that’s so important to tell me?”

“I just spoke to your Morty.” When Bartender Morty said these words, Rick’s aura of coolness that surrounded him suddenly faded away.

“What!? Where the hell did he go?! Is he alright?!” Rick then looked away, gritting his teeth. “N-not that I care. It’s a lot of work getting a new Morty, just making sure I don’t hav’ta spend a whole day looking for another one.”

“Right.” Bartender Morty gave a smug smirk. “Look, both your Morty and the Dipper he brought along are fine, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to say that with full confidence. Morty’s pretty pissed off.”

“Yeah….” Rick rolled his eyes, hiding his sudden guilt remarkably well. “I sorta shit him off. That’s why he ran off-”

“He’s not pissed at you, man.” Bartender Morty interrupted, fidgeting restlessly with his bowtie. “Listen, he’s getting tangled up in some real underground Citadel stuff that he shouldn’t be getting into. I shouldn’t have told him who destroyed your planet.”

Rick seemed surprised by Morty’s words, before subduing into confused shock at the last comment.

“You know the motherfuckers who blew up Earth Dimension L-413?” Rick questioned.

“I really don’t want to explain the whole step-by-step reasoning of your planet exploding again...so let me just make it simple. Yes I do, and Morty’s going to go find them. And believe me when I say that it’s not going to go well.”

Rick didn’t know what to say. Morty had left to find the beings who destroyed their planet? Rick was under the impression that he left so that Rick would be abandoned here. He suddenly felt very stupid.

“Um….hi Mabel here.” Mabel had crept up slowly next to Rick. “What the heck is going on!? Why are you wearing weird clothes Morty!? And where’s Dipper?!”

Bartender Morty turned his attention toward Mabel.

“I’m not your Morty. There’s infinite versions of me. I have no clue who you are.”

“Ignore her….” Rick said, rudely stepping in front of the small girl. The outraged voice of Mabel cut in with a small “Hey!” as both Rick and Morty proceeded to ignore her.

“Now what the hell do you mean by ‘it won’t go well’?” Rick asked, brow furrowing.

“I’m going to just cut to the chase here, he’s going after Mafia Rick.”

Rick’s face fell. “Holy shit. That IS bad.”

“Exactly.” Bartender Morty pulled the portal gun back out again. “Now if you don’t mind I really need to be going. I hadn’t meant to stay for this long but it would’ve been a dick move if I hadn’t at least warned you. Maybe now you can at least try to stop him from doing something stupid.”

“Hold on.” Rick said. “Morty took my only working portal gun. As humiliating as it sounds, I’m kiiiinda stuck here. Do you think I can come back with you?”

“Rick! We have things that we need to discuss here first!” Stan piped up. “You can’t just disappear off to nowhere again!”

“Lee fuck off! I thought you wanted your nephew back!” Rick yelled at Stan.

“Of COURSE I do!” Stan yelled back defensively.

“Your Stan’s right Rick.” Morty dug around in his apron. “It wouldn’t be a good idea to come back with me. It would be suspicious for a Morty to bring a Rick back with him, especially someone infamous around the citadel like me.” He tossed a glass jar of a green liquid at Rick, who caught it and looked at it in shock.

“Portal gun fluid?” Rick asked more in disbelief than in questioning.

“Yeah. Fluid’s the one thing an average Rick has trouble making right? Figured it would be easier to lift an extra jar of fluid than an entire portal gun.” Morty gave a small salute with his fingers as he opened up a portal. “Good luck on getting your Morty back.”

And just as quickly as he arrived, he was gone.

The was a long bout of silence that followed, until Rick shook his head and carried the jar under his arm, walking back toward the shack. “Well then, l-let’s get to it huh?”

“Aren’t we going to talk about what just happened Rick?” Stan asked pointedly, growing rather grumpy from the emotional whiplash that had just taken place.

“Yeah, an alternate version of Morty came through a portal to give me fluid and tell me that my version of Morty and your grand-nephew were at the Citadel trying to kill off the Citadel Mafia, what’s there to talk about?” Rick replied boredly.

“Not THAT! The thing BEFORE that!” Stan was at the tipping point of his frustration.

“Noooooope.” Rick snapped his fingers impatiently. “Come on, time is money, and I know you-you like, fetishize money so, let’s go.”

Stan groaned, plodding after Rick as Mabel scuttled beside him, pleased to see the melancholy attitude suddenly dissipate, but noticing the irritation apparent on her Grunkle’s face.
She heard him mutter “Asshole.” under his breath as they headed back toward the Mystery Shack.