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Morticia paced around her room. It was much like any other day. If she was thinking, then she would pace. It helped her mind get moving, and stay moving, like some kind of inertia. If the body is moving, then all of her moves with it. That was the logic behind it. What was she thinking about? What a great question. It was gnawing at her from the back of her mind, something that she couldn't push down.
Some time ago, Grandpa Rick had begun to take Morticia on adventures. These were usually dangerous and chaotic, but pretty damn fun. Morticia always enjoyed herself, even if at some point she felt like never going out with her grandpa ever again. Sometimes, tensions ran high and they cheated death just by a hair, and these adventures would make Morticia need several days to recover emotionally. However, the most recent one had her needing to recover for different reasons.
Rick found himself in a bind, needing some specific supplies and feeling too lazy to risk his life to get them. So, he took Morticia on a "supply run", without elaborating on where they were going. That was how Morticia found herself in the Citadel of Ricks for the first time. It was an impressive place, where hundreds of alternate versions of Rick came together and formed some kind of society. Morticia had known about the central finite curve, about the infinite alternate universes, and about all of these things that she encountered with Rick again and again. But she had never come across other versions of grandpa and herself, and never so many of them.
And something stuck with her that day, because she was not expecting almost every alternate version of herself to be boys. Every Rick had a "Morty", and an extremely small amount of Ricks had a "Morticia" or "Morti", with an "i". She had never considered herself more out of place than in that Citadel, surrounded by mirror versions of herself that did not reflect her at all. She was such a rarity, that every other Morty stared her up and down with looks that made her uncomfortable. Morticia thanked Rick for not taking too long in the supply run, as he simply stopped by a shop run by an alternate Rick, who sold supplies that most other Ricks get across the multiverse. It was basically a high-tech, sci-fi convenience store.
Back home, Morticia felt a tug in her heart. A sinking feeling of something stirring in her mind, some thought or concept coming to life.
She got home and immediately shut herself off in her room. Nobody really questioned it--they were used to her needing to recover from overstimulation on her own. (In fact, her grandpa Rick would later let her know that the autism and sensory issues not only run in the family, but in every alternate Rick and Morty, so her behavior never surprised him.)
In her room, she realized a few things, pacing around to try and organize her thoughts. She didn't particularly feel out of place in the Citadel because of "not being" a Morty. She actually felt like she was one of them. What made her feel icky was how the others treated her different, making her stick out like a sore thumb. Most Ricks didn't bat an eye at all the Morty variations, and therefore didn't care--a trait her grandpa also displayed--but every Morty, every single one of her kin would ogle at her like a zoo animal, a rarity, a statistical oddity. But she felt like she was just like them.
Then, she remembered a term she learned online. When browsing forums and blogs and social media in general, she came across terms that represented the LGBTQ+ community. Every June, especially, lots of the online spaces she frequented would post educational stuff to bring awareness to all the diversity in identities and orientations. She quickly googled a term that she had seen before, scared of being right about her own suspicions, but determined to find out.
"Transgender: term for someone that doesn't identify with the gender that's associated with their assigned sex at birth, but rather a different gender identity."
It had been days since that trip to the Citadel, and Morticia paced around again, this word bouncing around in her head, feeling so right but so, so scary. Such a big and broad concept, with such variety, that she just knew she could read every article, watch every video, and still not know every single identity out there. But she felt one of them resonate in her heart the most.
She paced around, deep in thought about what to do with all the information now in her muddled mind, with all this knowledge about transgender people, about the Ricks and the Mortys, and what that all truly means to her. Morticia was so deep in thought that she did not notice the light knocking at her bedroom door. And since she did not hear it, she jumped when Summer opened the door, letting herself in.
"Jeez, Summer! Can't you knock?!" Morticia yelled accusingly.
Summer scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I did! And besides, we're sisters, aren't we? Nothing in your room would surprise me." The redhead let herself in and made a beeline for Morticia's closet.
"R-Right…" Morticia sighed. She threw herself onto her bed, staring at the ceiling with a deep feeling of dread. The existential thoughts about her place in the infinite universe, and her identity as a single being, made her just a little dizzy.
Summer ignored her sibling's ongoing mental breakdown and inspected her closet. "I'm borrowing a blouse," She announced matter-of-factly.
Morticia groaned, not caring about the clothes. Even though Summer and mom went shopping with her regularly, she did not wear most of her clothes. Summer ended up buying shirts she liked but leaving them in Morticia's closet, as an excuse for mom to buy more.
"Jeez, Morti, you know, you should wear some of your nicer clothes more often… you'd look so pretty in all of these," Summer gushed as she saw blouse after blouse, dress after dress, which looked very nice in her eyes. "Of course, never as pretty as me." She joked, turning to her sister with a smirk.
But the look on Summer's face fell when she saw Morti silently lying in bed, legs hanging off the edge, staring at the ceiling with a face so overwhelmed that she might as well have been staring at the entire visible universe.
Summer sighed and kept looking for a shirt to wear out with her friends next weekend. She eventually settled on a pretty blouse and hung it over her shoulder. Then, she headed to Morticia's bed and laid down next to her.
"Are you done?" Morticia asked with hint of annoyance. "Just take y-your stupid shirt and leave."
Summer rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'll leave." But she made no move to indicate her intention to leave. Instead, she waited for her little sister to say something. As the silence dragged on and on, minute after minute of only Morticia's anxious breathing, made Summer just a little impatient. She spoke up again. "So… what's up?"
"Huh?" Morticia turned to her sister in confusion.
"Cut the crap, Mort. You're my sister. I know when something is on your mind. You could tell me what it is before you burn a circle into the carpet by like, pacing around all day."
Morticia sighed. She looked back to the ceiling and swung one of her legs anxiously back and forth.
"Is it about the clothes?" Summer pressed on.
"It's not about the clothes, Summer!" she snapped. "I don't care what clothes you take from my closet. I don't wear them anyways."
"Right. And like…" Summer paused for a moment, trying to measure her words. "Why don't you wear them?"
"Because I ha-hate them!" Morticia blurted out. Her arms reached out in front of her in a frantic gesture. "You and mom only make me buy clothes th-that you like! And then you pretend they're m-mine, so they sit here, gathering dust in the closet, until you come in to wear them."
"Well… why don't we take you shopping for clothes you do like?" Summer suggested gently.
Morticia shook her head and groaned. She covered her face with one of her arms, the other resting on her abdomen. "It's… not that s-simple."
Summer nodded, staying silent for a second. She knew it was more than just clothes that was causing her sister so much distress. After waiting a little longer, she tried again. "Care to elaborate?"
Morticia rolled her eyes and sat up, crossing her arms. "No."
Summer sat up as well, mirroring her sister's crossed arms. "Come on. If you got something eating you up inside, it's better to, like, let it out. Just between us, at least? Sister talk…"
Morticia looked away, feeling guilty all of a sudden. But she felt like at least, if she told one person, it was a start at unraveling the tangled mess in her head. "I'm not… I'm not y-your sister."
Summer tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean? I saw mom and dad bring you home as a baby. I changed your diapers once, too, y'know? Of course you're my-"
"No, Summer you d-don't get it!" Morticia snapped. She stood up and paced again, trying desperately to keep her nervous energy inside. "I can't be your sister! I just went out with Rick to a city where there's so many alternate versions of me and him! And y-you know what? Every single one of them was a boy." She sighed, stopping the pacing to hug her torso. "And… I think I mi-might be one too. A boy, I mean."
Summer sat there, blinking until her face lit up with realization. She smiled fondly, sighing. "So… you're a boy? Did I hear you right?"
Morti nods.
Summer gets up and brings her sibling in for a hug. This was something rare, as Summer and Morti never really showed each other affection. Sure, they could occasionally watch a movie together without fighting, or sometimes text each other memes, and maybe even ask for advice from each other once in a blue moon. But hugs? Not really their thing. But there was a first for everything.
When Summer pulls away, she smiles and asks a question. "What would you like me to call you?"
"You know… You and Rick are the only ones who call me Morti. I'd like to keep that. But Morty, with a y, you know?"
"Sure, Morty." Summer takes a step back and looks at her brother up and down, hands on her hips. "You need a makeover. Or like, the boy version of a makeover."
Morty reaches for the long curls of his hair, self-conscious about it. "Um… can you cut my hair?"
"Sure! I'll bring some scissors."
"Wait!" Morty grabbed Summer's wrist as she turned around. "I-I'm glad you're okay with this. But what about mom and dad? Won't they freak out? Do they even know t-trans people exist?"
Summer rolled her eyes. She slowly slid off Morty's hand from her wrist and chuckled. "Of course they know. And if they don't, we'll just teach them. You can tell them whenever you feel ready for it, and I'll cover for you. A haircut can just be a haircut, right?" She winked. Morty smiled. "Besides, when you do feel ready to tell them, I'll totally be there backing you up. I am NOT about to let our parents be transphobic!"
Morty laughs, feeling lighter already. This is probably the closest he's ever felt with his sister in ages. "Thanks, Summer." He wipes a tear from his eye.
"Of course. You're still an annoying little bastard, but hey, isn't every little brother like that?"
They both shared a laugh as they walked across the hallway to Summer's room.
"I guess you're right," Morty conceded. He sat down at the chair of his sister's vanity, facing the mirror.
Summer came up behind him with ponytails and scissors, tying up the hair into sections and pretending she knew more about hairdressing than she actually did.
"So… does grandpa know?" Summer asked before taking the first snip.
"Not yet… I-I mean, he might. But I haven't said anything y-yet," Morty replied, a new anxiety rippling up in his chest.
Summer began to cut carefully, focused on the task at hand. "Well, when you tell him, let me know. Grandpa can be a dick, but if he's too much of a dick, I'm telling mom."
Morty chuckled again. He had never felt more welcome in his own family, in his own body, than in this moment right now--scissors in his hair, Summer's hands holding it steady, and a relief so light that he felt he could fly.