Work Text:
It was a casual, somewhat decent day. They had gone to the Citadel in search for some kind of chemical Rick required for a project. Instead of risking their lives again to harvest the chemical themselves on the hazardous planet, they were grateful to be able to find some at the Citadel albeit for a hefty price. At least they got what they were looking for without risk of death.
While Rick was finishing up his business in the shop, Morty wandered off a ways to curiously gaze at all the stores, propaganda, posters and crowds that were ruthlessly scattered amongst the streets. Geez, he didn't know how other Mortys' didn't constantly get lost in this place.
On his way back to the shop he last saw his own Rick, Morty happened to gaze at a large, unkempt advertisement poster hanging up on a lonesome, dark wall and immediately halted in his tracks.
The advertisement was simple and basic, colored green, blue and yellow. A standard Rick was printed on the front holding onto a standard Morty, the both of them looking at each other with friendly joy, trust and love. Above them the captions read- "Learn to love your Morty with Rick's counseling for loving Mortys'!"
Morty blinked in shock, his mouth gaping as he searched around for more explanation or hints as to what the ad meant exactly. At the corner of the wall there sat a box filled with pamphlets'. Morty walked over and picked one up, seeing the same advertisement on the front and suspiciously going to open it.
"How's it going, fellow Rick? Are you one of the few Ricks' who loves their Morty? Are you having trouble with expressing your love for your Morty? Or maybe you don't love your Morty but wanna find a way how? Well here is a place that was made just for you! Come to Rick's counseling for loving Mortys' and we'll provide you with all the help you need to build a better relationship with your grandson."
Wow. A counsel where Ricks' help other Ricks' love their grandsons. That was... It was... It...
Morty didn't know what to think about it. A part of him was disappointed that such a counsel existed, but another part of him wasn't surprised at all- just... Neutral. Everyone had been over the whole shtick many times; Mortys' are just shields- blah, blah, blah. They were useless, dependent, cowardly and dumb, nothing much else to it. And all Ricks' took advantage of them.
Even his Rick.
Seeing this ad did raise a question though... Did his Rick love him? Some times it felt like he did, but most of the time it kind of didn't. Rick always degraded him, reminded him about how he was nothing more than a cloaking device, and purposely found ways to hurt him all the time. Was that seriously something you would consider as love?
Frowning, Morty mindlessly skimmed through the pamphlet and felt his stomach twist at a list of information in a section on the middle half of the page.
"Out of all the Mortys' in the Central Finite Curve, it has been estimated that only thirteen percent have lived to see their fourteenth birthday."
"Out of all the Ricks' we've asked, only six percent admitted to loving their Morty."
"Out of all the Mortys' we've asked, only thirty-two percent admitted to loving their Rick."
"Theoretically estimated, forty-three percent of Mortys' are suicidal."
"Theoretically estimated, ninety-one percent of Mortys' are depressed and/or have some form of mental illness."
"It has been physically estimated that twenty-four percent of Mortys' have committed suicide."
"Geez..." Morty whispered, a headache beginning to commence as a jab of discomfort and sadness took place inside his chest. This is how bad it was for Mortys'? He couldn't believe it. Did Ricks' truly hate them that much?
"I'm seriously getting s-sick and tired of seeing all these Ricks' with the undercuts. Like yeah, season six of Peaky Blinders was great, but do we really need to be taking it this far? Haha, hey? Since they like Tommy so much, why don't I-I whip them up some 'terminal tuberculoma' while they're at it too, huh?" His Rick came walking up from behind, chuckling as he carried a flask of chemical.
Morty couldn't stop frowning, his hands clenching tight around the pamphlet as he thought hard about what he had read. To him it seemed like no Rick loved their Morty. And judging by the condition of this advertisement and the pamphlets, he doubted hardly any Ricks' ever even thought about doing counseling.
And the fact that counseling like this had to exist in the first place...
"What the fuck?" Rick grimaced at the advertisement, "Ha, oh my God, a-are you shitting me right now? 'Counseling for loving Mortys'? Wh-what a fucking joke. Morty, y-you're an idiot if you think-"
"Y-yeah, I get it, Rick. This advertisement is meaningless- why the fuck would I ever think something this stupid could work?" Morty snapped with anger, crumbling up the pamphlet and throwing it to the ground, "And I'm a total idiot for ever even looking at it. A 'total' idiot. I get it. Can we go home now?"
"Geez," Rick cringed, watching as Morty stomped off in the opposite direction a bit, his back turned and his arms crossed, "What crawled up your ass and came out the other end?"
It was then that Rick felt his own curiosity peak, and he was glancing back up at the scratched advertisement on the wall. "Learn to love your Morty with Rick's counseling for loving Mortys'!"
Seeing the flimsy stack of worn pamphlets, Rick swiftly reached out, grabbed one and slid it in his coat pocket. Then he used his portal gun and lead him and his grumpy grandson back home. Morty didn't say much for a while after that, and Rick had to wonder if it was because of what was inside the pamphlet.
Later that evening in his lonesome, Rick read through the advertisement and understood what it was that had Morty so upset throughout the day. The percentages and estimations were accurate, he admitted, but he worried that his grandson had gotten the wrong idea from it.
Yeah, most Ricks' didn't care about their Mortys', but that didn't mean that 'he' didn't care. He loved Morty, he just... He just had a hard time showing it. See, love was... Well... Love is complicated for Rick, ok. He didn't really know how to express himself when it came down to love.
And it's not to say that Rick didn't love Morty because he 'did'. He loved his grandson more than anything in the entire universe. He would literally do anything to keep him safe, including sacrificing his own life. Morty was his beloved, adorable, funny, irritating ray of sunshine. He kept Rick grounded and stable and made every adventure an absolute wonder even if they weren't always perfect.
"Are you having trouble with expressing your love for your Morty?" Was the sentence in the summary that hit Rick the hardest because, honestly, he did struggle with showing his love for his grandson.
He struggled with a lot of things when it came down to their relationship.
Morty's reaction to him responding to the advertisement earlier today was proof enough that he was hardened to Rick's cruel, degrading behavior, and didn't expect anything positive from him. In fact, ever since the whole government prison shamble, Morty had been more self-guarded, more critical, independent and mature.
It was harder to hurt him nowadays.
And the fact that Rick had ever desired hurting him to begin with made him suddenly realize just how bad of a grandfather he truly was.
The more Rick studied all of the percentages and estimations listed on the pamphlet, the more he began to worry about his own Morty. Based on these theories and calculations, he couldn't help but to wonder if his Morty was depressed or suicidal. Did... Did he even love him?
"Theoretically estimated, seventy-five percent of Mortys' only admit to loving their Rick out of fear."
Rick frowned in shame, his brow slanting inwardly in dejection. Did his Morty only pretend to love him out of fear?
In a small, square fold in the back page of the pamphlet lie a submerged piece of paper. Rick carefully pulled it out and learned that it was a 'sign up' sheet for the counseling. He read over the information while mindlessly searching around his workbench for a pen.
Then he set to work filling out the many questions.
"What is your dimension?"
'C-137'
"Do you love your current Morty?"
'yes'
"Is your current Morty from a different dimension?"
'Yes'
"If you answered (yes) in the previous question, please write down which dimension your current Morty is originally from."
'N/A'
"If your current Morty is from a different dimension, please explain what happened to your original Morty."
'Never had one.'
"Does your current Morty have any mental illnesses that you are aware of?"
'N/A'
"Have you ever told your current Morty that you love them?"
'N/A'
"How would you rate the condition of your relationship?"
'Unstable'
"Does your current Morty love you?"
'N/A'
"Please provide a goal down below explaining what you hope to accomplish by joining this counseling."
'I wanna do better for my Morty.'
Filling out additional information, reading the policies, instructions and directions, Rick signed the contract on the back and prepared his portal gun for travel. He would be going to dimension J19-Zeta-7.
Why did that dimension sound oddly familiar?
Whenever Rick arrived at the dimension, he was shocked to learn that the Smith house didn't exist, nor the Smith family for that matter. Glancing back over the directions on the sign-up sheet, he saw that the house he was supposed to go to was most Ricks' formal home. The Sanchez house.
Going through another portal, Rick casually whistled as he walked up to the front door and knocked goofily on it's surface. Whichever Rick this was, they better not have anything smart to say or so help him...
As soon as the door opened, Rick was met with one straight and one cross eye, a set of buck teeth, and a very outdated bowl cut hairdue. "Y-you?" He jerked in a double take, "You're the one who runs the counsel?"
"O-o-oh hi there, fellow Rick," J19-Zeta-7 Rick greeted politely although there was a detectable outline of nervousness to his tone, "If you're talking about Rick's Counsel For Loving Mortys', then yeah, that's me. I-I run the counsel, b-but so does Princess Rick and DAR-59 Rick."
"Pfft, why am I not surprised?" Rick rolled his eyes, trying not to scan his brain for all the very sensible reasons behind why he shouldn't waste his time here right now, "A-a princess Rick? Just-wh-what kind of counsel are you running? A Disneyland theme park? Are you- are you gonna have us stare at water and sing a magical song until our hearts give in to the drug inducement of fairy-tale bullshit?"
"Uhh... No?" J19-Zeta-7 Rick rose his finger in nervous confusion, "Geez, I-I'm sorry if I gave you that impression, Rick. That's my bad. I-I'll try not to do it again."
Rick scoffed and rolled his eyes, ignoring the lingering pinches of guilt he felt brewing in his gut along with the screaming thoughts 'Man, am I douche for no reason some times.' "Talk about low self-esteem. H-here, I-I came to turn this in."
"Oh, so you're signing up for the counseling?" J19-Zeta-7 Rick smiled and took the paper, his one good eye gazing down to take in some of the answers. When he saw what dimension his new guest was from, his body tensed and his mouth gaped, "You're 'that' Rick?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm 'that' Rick. Wh-what's with the fifty-yard stare? Ar-are you trying to say that, because I'm regarded as the Rickest Rick, you won't accept me into your kiss-ass Morty counsel?" Rick crossed his arms, coming off as offended.
"N-n-no," J19-Zeta-7 Rick quickly stated in a panic, "Th-that's not what I meant at all. I-I'm just surprised."
It was then that J19-Zeta-7 Rick relaxed and smiled a real, genuine smile, his head bowing as he read back over the paper. "We hardly get sign-ups as it is, b-but to get the chance to have you here? I-it just surprised me is all, haha. You must really love your Morty, huh?"
Wow, this Rick was uncharacteristically nice. Wasn't there a rumor about him eating poop or something? Rick gave him a nonchalant lift of his brow and said grumpily, "Yeah, well, I wouldn't get too excited if I were you, Doofus Spock. I-I still don't know if this counseling is worth a shit or not."
"Well if you'd like to see how our counseling works, I-I can let you come in for an observation visit tomorrow- that's when group A has their next session." J19-Zeta-7 Rick rubbed his chin while looking through C-137 Rick's sign-up sheet, "And based on your answers here, I-I'd say group A is where you'd feel the most situated. A-at least that's what I hope would work out best for you."
When J19-Zeta-7 looked at him, Rick couldn't help but to find his outgoing behavior and consideration endearing in a different-Rick sort of way. Most Ricks' he knew were complete jerks and he hated them, but this Rick was alright, he guessed.
But like hell was he gonna show his approval.
"Yeah, yeah, that would be great. I-I'll try not to eat shit while I wait," Rick turned to leave, "Later, Doofus Spock."
"W-wait," J19-Zeta-7 Rick called, stammering lightly as he reached to the side and pulled out a box of wafers, "C-can I offer you a box? I made them myself."
"Th-they don't have shit in them, do they?" Rick grimaced in distrust, repulsed by the idea of eating poopy wafers.
"N-no," J19-Zeta-7 Rick frowned in sad frustration, "I-I don't know why everyone thinks I eat poop. I-I don't... I-I'm sorry I asked, Rick, I-I didn't mean to waste your time..."
"No, I-I'll take a box," Rick promptly lifted out his hand in curiosity and because he felt kind of like a douche for being mean. It's not everyday that you come across a cute, selfless Rick. Why not enjoy it while it lasts? "Thanks," He took the box and immediately shot himself a portal, "Bye."
"Bye C-137," J19-Zeta-7 Rick waved at him happily, "I hope you have a great evening."
Early the next day, Rick managed to wake up without a tragic hangover. Although he heavily preferred being drunk to dull the ache of reality, he had to silently admit that it was nice not waking up in misery every morning.
Having stayed up both anticipating and dreading this counseling, Rick made himself some coffee, ate breakfast with the family and abruptly told his grandson that he would be out for the morning on a self-prioritized trip. Thank goodness Morty didn't press too much for answers, and merely rolled with his exclamations'.
Rick lounged around in one of his many labs until the time was right. Then he shot a portal and returned to the J19-Zeta-7 dimension. Much like yesterday he walked up to the Sanchez residence and knocked on the door.
It didn't take but a minute before someone answered. "Oh-oh hey, C-137," J19-Zeta-7 Rick greeted with surprised yet enlightened enthusiasm, "I'm so glad you could make it. H-how are you feeling today? Are you having a good morning so far?"
"Pfft, ask questions like that all the time and you'll end up m-more bald than me," Rick rolled his eyes and shoved his way into the house, his lips drooping and eyes going wide at what he saw.
The J19-Zeta-7 Sanchez house was indeed unique much like the Rick from this reality was. Scattered over the walls were dozens of motivational quotes and pictures of different Ricks' looking happy with their Morty. There were even protests such as-
"Mortys' are more than just shields".
"There is nothing Ricks' should love more than their family".
"Hug your Morty. They deserve it".
"That's one way to make a statement," Rick mumbled, suddenly wishing he had brought his flask.
"Why, is this our newest patient?" Came the polite, enchanting call of another Rick.
Rick looked over and felt his jaw tighten in disbelief. Yesterday whenever J19-Zeta-7 Rick said that there was a 'Princess Rick' counselor, he really hadn't been joking.
There, standing tall in a light blue, poofy dress and heels was a Rick that looked like a princess. He had long, curly hair, a golden crown and even a wand with a star at the end that he carried around in his gloved hand.
"Oh my God... My eyes," Rick went to rub his eyelids as if they were sore or melting from visual abuse, muttering under his breath, "What am I doing here?"
"It sure is," J19-Zeta-7 Rick smiled big, "This is C-137."
"Well it's lovely to meet you, C-137," The Princess Rick bowed respectfully, "I must say, we weren't expecting to see you of all Ricks' here, but we're happy to have you. Your Morty must be so lucky."
Rick blew raspberries at the overwhelming politeness that polluted this Rick palace of Morty enchantment. Deep down inside his chest he wanted to say that his Morty wasn't really all that lucky. These Ricks' should honestly pity how unfortunate his Morty was to have him as a grandfather, but that's why he was here.
To do better.
"Yeah, whatever. Can we just get th-this thing started, or what? Wh-what are we-urrp waiting for? My blessing?" Rick pressed, wanting to go home but also wanting to see how efficiently this counseling worked.
As if non-offended by his rudeness, the Princess Rick smiled and did a little gesture with his wand, "Certainly. Hold still please."
"What? Why?" Rick was only able to see the wand the Princess Rick carried glow dark blue for a second before suddenly he teleported in a blink of an eye, his bottom resting comfortably on a cushioned surface.
Fluttering his eyes in the aftershock, Rick gazed around and noted that he was in the living room sitting on a couch. How had that Rick done that? Some kind of science-made magic? He kinked his brow, impressed, and then proceeded to take in the room.
There were two other Ricks' in here with him. The one sitting at the opposite end of the couch had short, spiky hair that was covered by a ballcap hat, and he wore blue jeans, a plaid button-up, a dirty denim jacket, and cowboy boots; a redneck Rick. The second Rick sat in the armchair and looked exactly the same as C-137 Rick, the only difference being that he wore a white shirt instead of a blue one.
The redneck Rick gave him half a curious glance before resuming his stance leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him and his focus on the table.
If Rick didn't know any better, he would say sir redneck seemed... Depressed.
"So what are you here for?" Asked the Rick with the white shirt.
Rick gazed around as if the answer was blatantly obvious, "Uh, my grandson. I-is there supposed to be any other reason?"
"No, there's not 'supposed' to be, but I've seen enough Ricks' slink themselves in here either to try to blow the place up or eat all the free food," White shirt Rick explained with an annoyed, suspicious edge to his tone as he eyed their new member thoroughly, "I-it gets pretty fucking old if you ask me."
"Well don't go sticking any thorns up my ass, pal," Rick snapped, irritated that he was being put underneath the spotlight of false assumptions, but that aside, he did learn a few things.
White shirt Rick must come here often or has been a part of the counseling for a long time if he's witnessed other Ricks' come and go that frequently. The biggest advantage about him is that he had experience. Enough experience to cause Rick to wonder aloud, "You've been here a while, so tell me: d-does this counseling work worth a shit or-or am I wasting my time?"
"I guess it all depends on how shitty of a person you are," The white shirt Rick threw out there as if it were obvious he believed C-137 wouldn't cut it here.
Rick glared, biting his lip. This Rick was really getting on his nerves. Just as he braced himself to bark back, the redneck spoke up.
"It ain't a hard thing to grasp," He said, his accent heavily southern, "If ya truly wanna do better for your Morty, then this is the place for ya. However, if ya don't wanna do better for em, then you should probably leave. It ain't more simple than that."
Geez. Rick blinked while staring at the redneck Rick, noticing how he never once looked away from the table. Even the way he spoke was- it was heavy, tired and earnest as if he were passionate yet helpless at the same time. What was his story?
"Hey fellow Ricks'. Are you ready to get started?" J19-Zeta-7 came walking into the room with a platter of plastic cups. He sat the platter on the table and handed each member a cup.
Rick took a cup with a twist of his nose as he stared down at the contents. Kool-aid. They were serving kool-aid? Well, he guessed that's what he probably should expect from this kid friendly atmosphere. And he didn't entirely hate kool-aid anyways...
"You said it'd get better," Redneck Rick said out of the blue, setting his cup down on the table milliseconds after he received it, and he gave J19-Zeta-7 Rick a serious look, "It's been three weeks. Nothin's got better. What the hell else am I supposed to do?"
"Calm down, Texan," Princess Rick's enchanting voice gently demanded, "We will discuss your issue in a moment. First I would like to welcome and introduce our newest member C-137. Like you he desires to do better for his Morty, but today he is merely here for observation."
"Welcome to the family, C-137," J19-Zeta-7 Rick lifted his arms out in a welcoming gesture to their newest member, his face crossed with a big, joyful smile, "We sure hope you're able to find everything you need here at Rick's counseling for loving Mortys'."
"Yay, yippee, I'm so happy to be here," Rick half-heartedly cheered.
"Are you sure this dudes not just some abusive dud just waiting to run out on us?" White shirt Rick asked.
J19-Zeta-7 gave him a reassuring look, "That's for the counsel to decide, 89-99. Please work on focusing on yourself while you're here. Leave the worrying to us."
"Well said, J19," Princess Rick and J19-Zeta-7 both sat down in separate chairs in front of the coffee table, "Now, is everyone comfortable?"
"What do you think?" Huffed the redneck Rick.
"I understand that you are still grieving, Texan," Princess Rick informed, officially beginning the counseling, "Is there anything you would like to say?"
"What else can I say?" Redneck Rick's voice was rough, spent and dry, his eyes noticeably reddish and watery as he lifted his head for the first time, his jaw tight and teeth chewing his lip, "I done said everything I had to say. Nothin's worked. And-and you... You said it'd work."
"Please elaborate on what hasn't worked? Are you referring to the counseling or your Morty?" Princess Rick asked.
"B-both, I reckon," Redneck Rick kept shaking his head as if he were anxious or emotionally strung out, "It's been three weeks an-and I still can't... I-I-I-just... Every time I look at em, I still can't see- a-all I see is 'my' Morty."
Redneck Rick buried his face in his hands, his fingers roughly rubbing over his eyes, "I-I know he's gone, b-b-but I-I just can't..."
"You're still having trouble letting him go," Princess Rick nodded calmly, "It's natural to grieve. Everyone has their own limit. Maybe you haven't reached yours yet?"
"Then when?" Redneck Rick ground out through tightened teeth, obviously trying to fight against crying, "When will I, as you put it, 'reach my limit'? Because if it's gonna be a damn while, then it ain't fair to the Morty I do got."
"Well, that's for you to figure out on your own," Princess Rick said, "We can't verify when exactly you'll be able to move on. What you've been through, Texan- it's a lot, and you have much to recover from."
"Have you tried bonding anymore with your new Morty?" J19-Zeta-7 Rick asked, pushing the tissues on the table closer to the emotional Rick.
"Can't," Redneck Rick sniffed while aggressively grabbing a tissue, "Every time I try, I-I just... Can't. It-it just feels wrong, you know? He ain't my real Morty, an-and I just... Can't. I just can't. I don't know what else to do."
"The only thing you can do is be patient, Texan," Princess Rick spoke softly, "You're still grieving, and I'm sure that you also haven't forgiven yourself either-"
"And I never will," Redneck Rick cut him off, sounding more certain than he had this entire session, "Never."
"By any chance have you tried speaking to your new Morty about it?" J19-Zeta-7 asked, explaining, "Communication is one of the most important parts of all relationships. If-if you can talk to him and tell him what you've been through, then I'm sure he'll understand. H-he might even help you."
"Nah, he wouldn't do that. He'd hate me," Redneck Rick mumbled.
"Don't you think that perhaps he believes 'you' hate 'him'? Connect the dots, Texan. Look at what you are doing," Princess Rick pointed out in a more serious tone, "You lost your first Morty by what you claimed to be a 'lack of commitment'. Well that's the same thing you're doing here with this Morty. A repeat."
C-137 Rick had barely sipped on his kool-aid, his mind was so intensively focused on this conversation. He had no idea what redneck Rick had been through, but it sounded bizarre, and with the way he moved and talked, Rick knew that he was being genuine. That and some of his perspectives were reaching out to him some how, making him feel weirdly understood, reassured and... Less alone.
"I hadn't thought of that..." Redneck Rick rubbed his forehead, shifting this way and that, restless, "Maybe I should just return him. I-I think it's obvious I ain't cut out being a grandfather."
"You got this Morty because you wanted to do better. Yes, you made a mistake the first time, but you swore it wouldn't happen again," Princess Rick exclaimed, "And you've already done so well. You've quit drinking, you've held back on the science, and you've stopped self-harming, and you did it all for that Morty. If you give up now then you'll be giving up on them both."
There was a long moment of silence before redneck Rick spoke again, his hands clasped together on his knees as he gently swayed around, his voice a defeated mumble, "Maybe givin' ups' what's best for em? I could return em easy peasy, and he-he could get himself a real grandpa- one that'll do him right."
"That's true, Texan," J19-Zeta-7 agreed, his eyes slanting with light sadness, "But what if you return him and he doesn't go to a Rick who treats him right? Not to sound rude, but not all Ricks' are as caring as you are, and there's a significant possibility that your Morty could end up with one of them. Knowing you... I don't think that's something you'd want to happen."
C-137 Rick thoroughly observed the redneck Rick. From what he could put together, he had lost his first Morty, had gotten himself another one and was now having trouble bonding with him. He was depressed too, struggling with guilt, doubt and insecurities. But he was 'trying'.
And that's something Rick greatly appreciated.
Despite the pain, the anger and the hatred, redneck Rick was still trying to be a true, loving grandpa to his Morty. He was suffering a dramatic loss and was pushing through it without alcohol, self-harm or even science-which was every Ricks' greatest coping mechanism. He was also here at the counseling service, so it was more than apparent that he was trying.
Another reason why this was reaching out to Rick so much was because it told him that he wasn't alone. He wasn't the only Rick out there who had lost family. He wasn't the only Rick who screwed up. He wasn't the only Rick who self-harmed. And he wasn't the only Rick who loved their grandson and wanted to do better for them.
"I... I guess you're right," Redneck Rick shook his head and finally took a drink of his own kool-aid. He mindlessly gestured to the Rick beside him, "How's the hassle on your end?"
"Well... It's a hassle," White shirt Rick answered with a sarcastic laugh, and then he began marching into his own story.
For the remainder of the morning white shirt Rick spoke about his own problems and struggles and how he was dealing with them. Apparently his Morty had accidentally killed the rest of their family by unleashing gas he didn't know was poisonous, and now they were all that was left. And white shirt Rick did love his grandson despite the casualties, but his Morty was having trouble forgiving himself and was on the dangerous verge of self-harm.
Both Princess Rick and J19-Zeta-7 Rick offered motivation and encouragement, accepting all positive and negative aspects like champions with a level of patience that was admirable.
As time went by, C-137 Rick began to understand why he was put in this group. Both these other two Ricks' had lost family and were human enough to feel the impact of it, and now they were trying to discover ways to do better for what they had left. While Rick liked to consider his own situation a bit more complicated and unorthodox, he really believed that this might actually be the place for him.
"I think that's it for this visit. C-137, is there anything you would like to say?" J19-Zeta-7 Rick asked, offering Rick a happy smile.
"N-no thanks. I think I've heard enough artery-clogging, motivational bullshit for the last three hours." Rick stood up and stretched his back, quickly turning around and making way for the exit, "See you sad dimwits next round."
Rick hurriedly returned back to his own dimension, crashing to the chair in his garage and staring up at the ceiling. What he experienced today... It really reached out to him.
You know, he never really considered it- the fact that there were other Ricks' who had feelings, who were depressed, sensitive and lonely, and who actually cared about their family. He always felt like he was the only one who ever tried to make a difference as a grandfather, but today he had just gotten bona-fide proof that that wasn't true.
Rick thought about the redneck Rick and how much he was currently struggling with his own situation. He lost his original Morty. How? What happened? Did he get killed during an adventure? Why did he blame himself so badly? And why did he rush to get a new Morty so fast? What was his story?
Maybe it was something they could talk about over a drink? Rick didn't know very many people who struggled with trauma as much as he did, but if he could communicate with redneck Rick and form some sort of critical understanding with him, then maybe he could finally open up about his own painful story.
And maybe... Maybe he really could do better for his Morty.