Chapter Text
It was a humid afternoon, and you decided you’ve done enough waiting. With one last glance out the window of your room, out at the alien architecture that’d overrun the city you once called home, you shot the portal gun given to you by the intruding Rick from a few weeks back.
You were home alone at the time, and assumed that you were just fine to lose yourself in a world that wasn’t completely pointless… Just a few hours wouldn’t hurt, would they? Wait, but what if someone came home and found that you were gone? What if you get trapped there and can’t leave? You shake your head, because you know you’re stalling, and push yourself through the green membrane of the portal.
The room you step into is identical to the one you just came out of, albeit with a little more dust and a lot less clothes thrown about. You chalked it up to whatever reason Rick had come to your dimension in the first place- and honestly assumed the worst of the Morty who resided here.
You take your time, opening the door slowly, darting your head out to make sure no one was there to spot you immediately. You felt like you were trespassing, despite the fact that you knew that this was your home. Well- not yours, but… Whatever, you’re done lingering on the small things. One thing mattered right now, and that was the significance of this particular dimension-- aside from Rick still being in your life.
You padded your way down the stairs as softly as possible, trying your damnedest to not alert anyone else who might be in the house of your intrusion. As you get closer to the front door, you can very clearly hear the casual chatter of the television, accompanied by the soft voices of your family discussing something at the kitchen table. A lump pushes its way into your throat, and you’re frozen in place, listening.
“B-But he’s been gone for three weeks, Dad, what makes you so sure he’s even alive?!” Beth’s voice is strained, and cracks horribly as she exclaims. You feel guilt snake its way into your stomach, and you think you’re going to be sick. You know they’re talking about you-- well, not you, but… It makes you feel horrible all the same.
“Sweetie, I-I… I know. I-I-I know it’s hard to… To think that he’s safe, let alone a-” Rick burps. “Alive. B-But I can tell you w-without a shred of doubt that he’s going to come through that door any minute, j-just fine.” Rick’s voice is wavering too, which is incredibly uncommon in your experiences with the man; but then you remember, that isn’t Rick. He’s just another one of them. Who knows what kind of personality differences this dimension could have? What number is it anyway? You know that you’re coming out of Earth dimension C-117, your Rick repeated it almost to no end when making exchanges or dealing with the counsel.
You let out a very quiet and shaking sigh, taking the last few steps especially carefully. You round the corner, and find yourself being stared down with eyes that are red with tears and heavy with lack of sleep. Your mother, father, and sister all completely floored by your sudden appearance- while Rick simply seems surprised.
“M-Morty…?” Summer’s voice rings out, hallow and frightened. Her expression reminding you very strongly of the time she managed to completely ruin a dimension’s ice cream- eyes wide and lifeless, and mouth dipping into a very distressed frown. You tentatively rub your arm, rather nervous with everyone’s eyes on you for so long. You’re sure they’re just trying to convince themselves they’re not actually insane and fabricating your existence as some kind of harsh coping mechanism.
“Y-Y-Yeah…?” You squeak, voice cracking with anxiety. Your stomach is doing horrible flips and twisting in ways you were positive aren’t actually possible… You’re frightened that they’ll see through you immediately, and that they’ll know that you’re not actually their Morty, just another one of the many that dot the multiverse without purpose. Because, really, that’s all you are; you’re just another Rickless Morty who is desperate for the thrills that came with being a Morty.
Everyone but Rick jumps up from their position at the table, and rushes in to hug you. The group hug is bone crushing, yet comforting all the same. Your mother is sobbing and spouting ‘I love you’s and ‘Don’t ever leave again’, while your father and sister are perfectly content with just having you close. It’s… Jarring. You’re not used to receiving so much affection from your family. This dimension must really be an offshoot, huh?
“We thought you were…” Your father chokes out, obviously overcome by emotion. Everything in that moment feels so wrong yet so right- the attention you’ve craved, the love you’ve desired… Yet you know it isn’t your love. You’re stealing another Morty’s family, another version of yourself who could possibly be out there still… Alone…
It really tears you apart.
After a long few hours of your family practically throwing themselves at your feet, you finally get some breathing room with Rick. The two of you have settled on the couch, sitting about a foot apart, watching a dumb show about a bunch of kids stuck in a world for dogs. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding, chest tightening with the panic of being alone with your grandfather again.
You steal glances his way, taking in the subtle differences in his features compared to your original dimension’s Rick. Your Rick… You’ve been trying to follow his advice and simply not think about it, but you can’t bring yourself to ignore him when someone identical to him is in the room- sitting right next to you.
You remember the first time Rick took you to the citadel- it was such an unnerving situation for you, but you couldn’t help but soak it in. It was jury duty, you remember very clearly. Rick of dimension C-137 was in for some horrible strain of pun named murders. The concept was horrifying to you- how could someone… Kill themselves like that? You remember watching in shock as he assaulted one of the officers and shot the other, making his way out of the utopia without a shred of remorse for the versions of himself he just brutally murdered.
It really made you rethink just what Ricks were like.
Ugh, you shake your head. Lingering on your Rick made your head spin and your chest ache for so many reasons it was impossible to count. You take another careful glance at the man to your side and think about it for just a moment; would he have done the same?
“Staring isn’t exactly polite M-Morty.”
You jump, surprised by his sudden vocalization of something that wasn’t related to the dumb show that you two were absently watching. You thought you were being subtle, but, you suppose it’s hard to gauge your own social ability when you haven’t really spoken to anyone in months. You let out a shaky sigh, words coming to mind but mouth not quite cooperating in putting them into the air.
“I-I-I… I was… C-Can we talk, R-R-Rick?” The name flows off of your tongue in a way that makes you cringe. You haven’t said his name out loud since the night this doppleganger burst into your home and raided your liquor cabinet. It feels so strange to be talking to a man who you watched walk away from your life; granted, it was a different timeline.
“Shoot, kid.” He says, voice sounding much more sincere than what you’re accustomed too. It’s disarming to say the least. Your Rick was always cold, but with an undertone of sincerity that you always treasured, though you’d never verbalize your appreciation of it. This Rick however, had it on full display, seemingly ready to shower you in compliments and encouragement. It made your heart pound and your stomach flip- you didn’t know how you felt about it, really.
“Wh…” Your words are escaping you, and you take your time to mutter through a few ways you’d like to start the sentence, all of which falling flat as they’re banged against your own self doubt and anxiety. Eventually you manage to stutter out, “Why me…?”
He chuckles warmly, the sound only somewhat foreign to your ears. You’ve heard your Rick laugh like this, but it was never that casual, it was always mocking or followed by a crude insult. The fact that he didn’t accompany his acknowledgment with anything that would blow your self confidence apart made you smile. You didn’t really think that you’d be romanticizing how little you believed you were being judged, but here you are, doing exactly that.
“Your dimension was close to mine. What’re you from again? C-C-C-120 or somethin’?” He spits, rather void of emotion. It was like he was stating a fact, not discussing how he managed to burst into your home in the dead of night. “Yeah. I-I knew it was late there, so I took my opportunity. I was outta booze and needed a drink. C-Coulda been any Morty, really.”
“S-So… Huh…” Is all you manage to choke out, overcome with a wave of disappointment. You don’t quite know when or why you got the idea through your head that you were special to this Rick, and he had chosen to come to you on purpose. It still cuts deeper than you would have liked, and that’s not exactly pleasant when your mind is already in a horrible tizzy about the whole situation at hand.
The two of you sit in silence for another twenty or thirty minutes while you think about anything and everything that’s been thrust in front of you in the past few hours. You’re horribly guilty, yet so incredibly happy about it all. Your family here loves you, and Rick here is caring and not in fucking jail. God you miss your Rick-- but why? Why would you miss him when… When you can just replace him with someone who obviously appreciates you much more?
You shake your head, closing your eyes tightly. This is all wrong. This isn’t your family. It never was. You sigh, and push yourself off the couch, catching a glance at a wall clock that firmly displays the time 8:32 as it ticks. You assume it’s current, as the world outside seems a little dark for it to be a spring afternoon. You make up a lie about going to bed, and spit it at Rick, who obviously knows better, and replies with a “come back any time”.
You pass by a couple members of the family on your way back upstairs, who all give you praise and encourage you to sleep as much as you need to. It makes your head hurt too badly, and by the time you finally make it to your room, you want to puke. With no thought behind the action, you open another portal, and step through.
The clock on your nightstand reads 12:37, and you wonder if anyone even noticed your absence. The idea that your own family didn’t care that you were gone leaves a pit in your already overactive stomach. However, you can hear the desperate screams of your mother in the other room- they’re obviously directed at your father. Your headache drives you into bed, as you kick off your shoes and pants with an exasperated sigh.
...Maybe one more trip to the other dimension won't hurt you.