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September 19th. 8:32 AM, hungover, and rushing to the hospital. Rick Sanchez is hurriedly running into the Labor and Delivery wing, anticipating the birth of his second grandchild. His head whips around frantically, which fucking room was Beth in? Suddenly, he hears a low male mumbling followed by shrieking inflamed with agitation and rage.
“That’s my girl,” He smiles to himself before interrogating a nearby nurse about the patient in the suspected room. Once satisfied with the current information, he lets up on the poor man.
Not wanting to overwhelm his daughter, he paces outside the delivery room. He sees his first grandchild down the hall with a nurse, her demeanor starkly irregular and downright disturbing to see. Worried, Rick sits next to her.
“Is Mommy okay?” Her eyes well up, and tears fall onto her cat-themed pajama pants.
“Oh, absolutely, Sum-Sum!” Rick lifts her onto his lap, “It’ll take a hell of a lot more than this to hurt your mom.”
September 19th at 10:44 AM, Beth safely delivers her baby. The nurse Rick had interrogated lets Summer run into the room to see her mother and new sibling. After a few moments, his son-in-law approaches him.
“Wanna meet your grandson?”
Grandson. I have a grandson. Rick subconsciously nods and stands. His knees buckle and he composes himself before entering Beth’s room. The doors open and he’s met with the sight of his daughter looking exhausted, and yet so radiant with joy. Her blond hair, tired eyes, and softly worn smile make her look like her mother. She holds a bundle of soft blankets in her arms. That’s him. My grandson.
Rick kneels next to his daughter’s bed. She tucks the blanket down off her son’s head, revealing him to the world.
“Say hi to Grandpa, Mortimer,” Beth coos.
“Mortimer?”
“Morty for short.”
He chuckles. Richard and Mortimer, huh?
Rick stands up and pulls a stool close, still wanting to be near his daughter and grandson.
“Would you like to hold him?”
He stopped. This wasn't like holding Summer. This was different. This was Morty.
“Um, sure,” His voice comes out hushed and low. Beth hands her son to Rick. He delicately holds his grandson in his hands, his arms instinctively moving to cradle him.
Morty blinks and sees his Grandpa’s eyes for the first time. They’re overwhelmed with pride and love. His lip shakes while he cries. His hand gently strokes Morty’s head, and he softly laughs. Morty lets out a sigh of contentment and falls back asleep. Morty Smith. My grandson. My boy. I’ll teach you everything I know. I’ll take you to every universe. Show you the best parts of life and protect you from the worst. For 100 years. For forever, Morty.
Rick burps himself awake, his throat quickly becoming bitter with acid. He wipes away his tears and then tries to soothe the oncoming headache he has. With blurry vision, he examines his surroundings, specifically the empty bottles of wine and family photo albums. He groans when he sees the baby picture of Morty in his hand.
Rick sighs disappointedly and tosses the picture on top of the albums, “Fuck.”