Chapter Text
"And guess what happened then?" Summer drawled smugly with that distinct tone that said she wanted to show off.
Space Beth poked at her salad, expression indifferent. "Let me guess, you did another 'Die Hard'." She said with fake energy.
"Hell yeah!"
Rick snorted at his granddaughter's enthusiasm. "For real, though. I mean you shot that kid-eating one- he had a self-reflection episode- thank fuck we missed it-"
"Thank god, yeah!" She laughed. "But you had to be there to actually like, see me in action and stuff."
The scientist shook his head. "I've already seen both Die Hard and you in action, so pass."
"Ugh," She rolled her eyes, back to her food. "I should've just left you and Morty to get shot playing Roy with that thin laser thing." She grumbled.
"Is that what happened?" Beth raised an eyebrow, holding her signature glass of wine, but she barely sipped from it. "You two playing videogames while Summer covered you from terrorists?"
Rick scrunched up his nose, fingers drumming on the table. "Sweetie, Morty was stuck in the game and I had to get him out before his consciousness died in the machine. I think that's a little different."
"And where is Morty now?" Jerry popped in, sounding fairly concerned.
Rick's desire to yell at him died when he couldn't find the answer to that question. "Shit, where is Morty?" He looked at Morty's empty seat.
"Honestly, I don't blame you for forgetting about him." Summer casually twirled her fork around her fingers. "He was acting so off and quiet on the way back, he just excused himself and went to bed."
"He excused himself?" Rick's bite stopped midair. " Is he living in season one or something?"
The ginger merely shrugged. "I dunno, said he was tired."
The man absent-mindedly hummed. "Eh, good for him."
"Have any plans for the night?" Summer chirped. "I'm still hyped. I could go for an adrenaline rush."
The idea felt a bit far away to him. "Nah, I don't feel like doing much. I think I'll just turn in early." Came out of his mouth before he could fully process it. Half of the table turned to give him an odd look.
And Rick was almost as surprised as they were. The phrase 'turn in early' had turned into some sort of a code for an 'I want to be alone and locked in the garage and no one should dare interrupt me' message.
Before he could come up with something else, Summer held up her hands in surrender. "I'm not touching that, grandpa Rick. Hey, moms. Do you wanna go do something rad?" She turned toward the Beths instead.
Space Beth hummed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I think I have some time to kill before I have to get back…"
Rick barely heard Beth and Summer cheer for her, walking to the garage. He already felt exhausted.
Normally, Morty'd be there to scoff at him for being kicked off the 'space adventure' team. He took every chance to get back at Rick, he thought with a fond snort, locking the garage door. Might as well.
Some bottles and one half drunk Rick later, the man started to stare at the door for some reason.
His head throbbed with a headache he shouldn't have been having. Scrunching up his nose, he chugged at his forth bottle of liquor, letting it wash over his pain.
It didn't, though. It only worsened, pounding through his skull, making him groan in pain.
Another fucking day of pretending to be invincible while dying inside, he dryly patted himself on the back. Yay for him.
A small part of him wanted to forget about the entire ordeal, his past, and move on with whatever was left of his wasted life. Go on more adventures, show more affection to the Beths, maybe. Spend some time with his newfound, but maybe not so new family. If he was feeling generous, maybe even throw Jerry a bone. And well, maybe, finally and freely accept Morty as the big part of his life- as he always was.
Rick swore, counting the empty bottles next to him. "How much did I have?" He drawled to himself with narrowed eyes, finding the answer to be 'a lot'. Having cut down on the alcohol recently, he felt nauseous to almost an unbearable degree.
The pounding in his head was still there, like something struggling frantically to break free from his brain and Rick couldn't blame the thing. He'd run too if he could.
A sweet voice kept whispering sweeter and bitter nothings in his ear. Not due to his inebriation, but all day and maybe all week long. Getting thrown back to home was a terrible way to rip open old wounds, however unintentional it was. And he felt rather guilty about his neighbors. He might not have been ready to move on, but that didn't mean to make everyone suffer with him.
And that voice- her voice, his sweet Diane…
"Stop." He drunkenly hissed to himself. "Stop thinking."
Her smile, her kind eyes, soothing, comforting, heavenly voice. "Rick, honey, have any new leads on finding our daughter's killer?"
Rick hit himself on the forehead with his palm, multiple times. The tone echoed in his hollow brain, judging him without really judging him. She made him self conscious about his misery and he knew it. That was what the AI was for.
"Why are you checking the rooms, Sweetie-pie? You know you can never reach me. I'm just here to haunt you!"
Giving up on controlling his thought, Rick slumped on the floor, groaning out in inability to do anything.
"… Are you giving up on us, Dirty Bear? But you love us…"
"I do-don't know what else to do, Diane." A disheveled Rick burped, stumbling across the garage, crushing maps and pages under his feet.
"You're leaving me, Rick."
"You're not even real." Shakily whispered a drunken Rick Sanchez, hands planted on the workbench. "Time for plan B, Diane. Give me the coordination."
"You mean waiting for the Rick to come to you? Not half bad for a miserable drunk. Are you going to kill his family too, baby?"
"Yeah." Rick checked his pocket for a gun. "Eye for an eye." But he sounded uncertain.
"You don't sound so sure." Fake Diane caught it too.
Rick gritted out, typing in what he saw in the mini hologram displayed before him. "I am."
But Rick never killed the Prime family. He ended up living with them. He probably should've tended to his emotional hang ups before crashing into their garage, because the moment he laid his eyes on a teary eyed Beth Smith, all his plans about murder were wiped out of his mind.
Trying to ignore his blurry vision, Rick threw his head back in a long gulp. The door did not budge.
Rick ended up passing out on the floor, but Morty never came through that door with a scowl to bring him to his senses. Interrupt and pull him out of his head like he normally did.
And that next morning, he suffered the consequences, a headache aiming to kill.
That routine continued to repeat itself every night.
Rick felt like he had gone right back to square one.
He didn't even know where Morty was half of the time. The boy went to school every day, Rick dragged him out of there. They did a 9/11 (Morty did less participating and more wordless standing), they came back and the day was over.
If he tried to put it into words, everything was smooth and perfect.
Everything was perfect, except himself. He felt like the tight leash on his mind was loosening, thoughts and threats spilling out.
How on hell had he managed them so far, once in a while he incredulously stared into the mirror and questioned. What kept him in check before? What kept him from being devoured by the haunted voices chasing him, ringing in his ears? It wasn't like anything had changed.
Running a hand through his messy hair, Rick climbed up the stairs. What he thought didn't change much. As long as he-
"Oof!"
Deep in thought, Rick didn't notice he was taking strides until he bumped into someone. Coming back to the present, he blinked at the sight of Morty looking at him nervously, previously held books now scattered across the hallway. "Oh, hey Mort."
Morty's irregular breathing made him raise an eyebrow. "S-sorry, Rick. I-I wasn't looking where I was going."
"I literally ran into you." Rick rolled his eyes, waving him off. "What's with the books? Nerd much?" He nudged him in the side with a snort.
"O-oh, no. I was… uh, taking some of my math for mom. T-to check if I did them right." Morty scratched his arm like he wanted to peel the skin off, avoiding his eyes. "I mean I thought you'd be busy, so…"
"What?" Rick scoffed, words sounding ridiculous to him. "Wait, are you actually taking the school thing seriously?"
Morty raised his confused expression, neck craning to the side. "If you think I shouldn't go, that's fine. I-I can tell Mom I wanna go on more adventures."
The genius opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it once more. "Uh, sure. That'd be-" Perfect "-alright."
The boy simply nodded. "Then I'll be in my room if you need me, Rick."
The duo spent a moment blinking at each other.
"Well?"
"Well what, Morty?" Rick copied Morty's tilted head.
While Morty's attention was on him, he was cracking his fingers. "Can I go?"
A frown tainted Rick's face. "I- we- of- of course you can go. Go where?"
"My room?" Morty pointed backward with his thumb, even more baffled.
"Yeah." The gears in Rick's brain refused to move. "Go." Morty walked away with one last nod.
Just like that, perfect. It was perfect and it was disturbing.