Chapter Text
He didn’t save her.
He didn’t even try.
Prime Rick watched as other versions of himself broke apart for her.
Rick from T-22 built an entire time loop just to keep Diane for four more minutes.
Rick from X-39 erased his own memory just to fall in love again.
Rick from F-9 died without pulling the trigger.
He looked at them like foolish children playing in the sand as the nuclear storm rolled in.
And he did what adults do when childish games get in the way of strategy.
He activated the Omega Protocol.
It didn’t hurt.
It wasn’t monstrous.
It wasn’t tragic.
It was right.
The workshop felt quieter than usual.
Not because of the sounds — but because of the thoughts. Prime Rick didn’t like noisy thoughts.
He preferred precision:
clear formulas, finished schematics, direct solutions.
In front of him stood the device he’d been building for seven years.
In every microchip — echoes of her voice.
In every copper circuit — the trace of something he had once almost felt.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t tremble. Didn’t even exhale.
He simply walked up and entered the command:
> DELETE D-object from all temporal layers.
Trace by emotional signature.
Erase 27 instances. Priority: manual termination.
And he said, almost casually, like reading a grocery list:
— Nineteen are still breathing.
Five — already dead.
Three — alive and in the way.
…Their Ricks chose love.
I chose completion.
The screen flickered.
Faces began to vanish, like static fading from an old TV.
Diane with freckles.
Diane with tired eyes.
Diane, laughing.
Diane, saying—
“You’re still human.”
That one — the last one — was the last to disappear.
Prime Rick didn’t flinch.
He simply closed the panel.
Turned around.
And walked out.
Quietly. Calmly. As if deleting a folder from a desktop.
A folder named “Residual.”
Only near the exit, his boot brushed against a metal box.
It fell, thudding dully against the concrete.
An old label slid off:
> D. The First Variable.
He didn’t look down.
He didn’t stop.
He knew: give a glitch time — and it becomes regret.
And regret is for those who still believe choice matters.
Somewhere, in the corner of a uranium universe, a monitor blinked.
For a split second, an error flickered in the code. Not fatal. Just a delay.
Just… one of the Dianes was still out there.
His Diane.