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The first time, Rick jumped over their fence during a cold night, out of simple curiosity, he found himself standing in their backyard. He simply intended to know, superficially, how the family of his nemesis really worked. The anxiety about being caught and having to explain himself that had been steadily running through him for the last hours was no longer under his control. He initially expected to see Beth, to witness what his daughter would have grown into if she were still with him, even as he knew it would probably be heavy on his heart.
And it was, for as long as Rick creepily stared at Beth's sleeping face, he could only notice more and more the way in which every single one of his daughter's features had developed to portray an incredibly coherent and beautiful mix of his own and the ones his beloved wife carried through her life. The scene before him, as mellow as presented, was a grotesque shock, and the strength he had promised to have seemed to quickly fade away, leaving him weak and nauseous.
Rick couldn't even gather the courage to stay in their room for any longer, for the time being, deciding to ignore completely the man who was lying next to Beth, coming back to the backyard in an attempt to avoid disturbing their domesticity by accident. He just sat down on the dirt in silence, over the damp grass that stained his pants. For the next twenty minutes, everything he needed to do was to focus on the consuming chill of the dark. That's about how long it took the reputedly tough man to recover from such a simple picture.
As he regained his will to know, he finally decided to check on the kids he had heard so much about. He continued with summer, quickly examining the looks and state of the resting toddler, wondering about her unusual hair color for a moment. He couldn't help himself but to grin at the messy softness of the little girl curled into her bed, resting peacefully. She was reminiscing of diane to him too, but it was different, her expression wasn't as fragile as he expected, and for once, he wished he could belong with them.
Still smiling, Rick quietly walked to Morty's room, the baby boy calmly napping in his crib, the light from the streetlamps dimly lighting the beige room and allowing him to examine the figure under the covers. However, he couldn't quite manage to see the kid's face, so after questioning himself for a moment, he settled on carefully approaching to turn his small body to a position where he could appreciate him correctly.
To Rick's surprise, Morty wasn't asleep, just quiet, instead, he found his big, dark brown eyes staring up at him dreamily and in wonder as he stood at the edge of the crib. He didn't cry or coo, instead, his grabby hands reached up, as if trying to touch his grandfather, maybe to even pull at his clothes. Rick was in awe of the lack of reaction the curious child showed, but he reached back, his much larger hand coming to wrap around Morty's tiny one.
The boy's action instantly reminded him of his own child when she was little, the instinct to take care of his grandson settling profoundly in his being, for a moment, the grief is finally pushed aside after a very long time, replaced by a need to nurture he hadn't felt in decades. He reached down, almost excited, picking Morty up and cradling him close to his chest, his eyes glazing over with tears. Morty was just a baby, like any other, but to him, the kid was now one of the most precious creatures he had ever seen, and he was willing to protect him for as long as he could.
That night, he simply sat on the room's chair, holding Morty against his chest as he shushed him gently, occasionally ruffling his thin, short hair or caressing his chubby cheeks. He talked to him for hours, simply whispering to the unaware child about his life, his inventions, and his family. When the boy started to fuss over tiredness, the only thing Rick could do was to sing to him the same lullabies he did to his Beth, trying to lull Morty back to sleep before tucking him back into the warmth of his crib.
He couldn't deny he was moved anymore, and as he left, he knew he would be back, over and over again, only to see Morty, to be able to hold him a few more times before he had grown too big and too aware to stay silent about his recurrent presence. The baby had, in only one night, become the only comfort in Rick's life, the only other reason for his existence besides his unstoppable and hurtful hunt for revenge.
Now he would routinely portal to a nearby alley, about a block away. Maybe at the start, he didn't care this much, he would simply excuse himself by saying he was curious about their looks and life instead of truly invested, but as time passed, he felt the need to begin keeping them safe, monitoring the neighborhood regularly, silently but thoroughly, to make sure it was a secure and unthreatening community for the family to live in, for the kids to grow up in.
Through the next years, Rick would always try to deny, mostly to himself since no one else was aware, how much affection he held for the boy and how deeply he cared for all of them now. It's almost like he had adopted them, and though he often felt shame of how far his feelings would go for a family that never belonged to him, it all felt like a part of his revenge too, his selfish plans to steal them from the man who took his own didn't feel completely wrong but now comforting, an event he felt excited for.
However, Rick's plans were never quite so serious, he only daydreamed about moving with them for many years. Until the day when he desperately needed help and shelter came, he never truly considered landing on their lawn, he never let himself act on his desire to once again have a home. He couldn't imagine allowing himself to stay and be cared for, the thought alone was frightening and humiliating. But despite his reticency, the hour came, and suddenly, he was there.
When Rick looked at Morty's eyes again, he was mesmerized. He had seen the boy grow into the teenager he had become, but he hadn't had the chance to observe him so clearly. And he knew, right away, that Morty recognized him as well, that deep in his subconscious, he could tell they had already met. That Rick was there even before he figured out what people were, that his voice and his scent were heavily ingrained in his grandson's mind and skin.
Morty felt it too, in how offputtingly familiar they acted around each other, in how uncomfortably close they got in a short time. Morty could notice it was all plainly a reunion, especially from the way he could trust his now present grandfather, from the casual touch that felt so intensely soothing. From Rick's voice relaxing him regardless of the urgency he spoke with, and the smell of alcohol and sweat that came from him didn't feel awful but like a balm.
They were both meant to be together, as Rick had yearned for since the very start of morty's existence.