Work Text:
“Roger that.”
Shoot to kill. Not an uncommon command coming from Rick, but this time, Morty was relieved to hear it. He hated Evil Morty, and he especially hated the way he was flaunting around the relationship he suddenly had with Rick. A Rick that wasn’t even his.
It didn’t matter, though. The ship was a diversion, and no matter how many times they shot, Evil Morty kept creeping closer. Rick was right, of course. He was pissed.
”Ooh, he looks mad,” Morty taunted after Evil Morty shot Gene. Distantly, he recalled what Rick had mentioned earlier. 20 seconds.
”You like that, Morty? He built a bunker dimension just for me,” Evil Morty grinned, sure of himself.
“I don’t have to lie here,” Rick butted in, “I built it for a bunch of reasons.”
“You’re not special, pal.” And there it was again, the bitterness in his voice that never seemed to dissipate when he was talking to Evil Morty. It was no secret that Morty was jealous, that he hated how close Evil Morty had gotten to his Rick, and it was no secret that Evil Morty was exploiting that fact at every opportunity.
What Morty didn’t know, and what Evil Morty could never forget, was that Rick was just as possessive of Morty as Morty was of him.
This thought occurred to Evil Morty just as Rick moved to aim his gun. He barely refrained from baring his teeth.
”I don’t need to be.”
Rick shot. Of course, he’d known the bullet would never reach its target. The shot was mostly to put an end to the pointless bickering between the two versions of his grandson. Despite this, Rick was still caught by surprise when Evil Morty appeared behind them, forcefully knocking Morty to the side. The kid was shoved several feet away, knocked off his feet and landing on his stomach. Rick could tell he was already forming bruises. He took the time to wince. Immediately, he realized his error, as Evil Morty was quick to put himself between Rick and his grandson.
Rage bubbled inside Rick as he realized Evil Morty was weaponizing Morty because he knew Rick cared. He wasn’t supposed to. Everybody knew it. Ricks notoriously didn’t give a damn about Mortys, used them like tools and abused them like animals. Rick Prime hadn’t even cared about the little shit, and as much as Rick loathed to admit it, that was technically his Morty.
But Rick did care. Out of an infinite number of Ricks, out of the infinite number of Mortys who had shitty enough luck to end up with a bad one, Rick C-137 was the outlier. He had always been different than the rest. The only one to turn down Rick Prime. The only one to kill him, the only one besides him to actually invent portal travel. Him, the Rickest living Rick, infamous for being particularly cold-hearted and always a step above the rest of his kind, cared about his Morty. His Morty. Out of all of the friends and family he’d replaced, he’d never once bailed on his grandson. He was the only living Prime left, maybe the only living person from his original dimension at all, and had always been the only one worth a damn. Really, the damn kid had been the only reason Rick had stayed in that dimension at all, after realizing the man he was after wasn’t going to come back.
Morty was nothing but a liability, that much was true. But it was only because Rick actually gave a shit about what happened to him. It was an indisputable, exploitable fact. And Evil Morty was exploiting it.
“You’re going to watch me kill him,” Evil Morty spat, and turned to bolt towards Morty, who was barely getting to his feet. Rick lunged after him, missing only barely and giving chase.
“What- woah, Rick!” Morty yelled as Evil Morty reached him, shooting a panicked look towards his grandfather. Evil Morty wasted no time, dragging him up by his shirt and pointing a gun directly to his heart. Instinctively, Morty put his hands up, going limp in his counterparts arm. Rick froze as well as Evil Morty shot him a withering glare, the message clear: try me. The nanomesh suit was meant for long distance attacks. It wouldn’t hold up against a gun fired directly next to it.
”For fuck’s sake,” Rick began, trying desperately to figure out what the fuck he does now. Obviously, he can’t shoot him. Even if he managed to get past the fucking force field, the little shit would just shoot Morty. He frantically went down the list of every weapon he had on him. He had the net, which he suspected wasn’t strong enough to actually kill Evil Morty, but should be enough to break the forcefield. Even if it wasn’t, it’d give him enough time to get Morty out of the way. The issue was actually using it without Morty getting murdered in the process.
”What, you upset that Grandpa outsmarted you? Or w-was it the photo? Hey, plenty of species would pay good money to get a glimpse of this ass,” Rick said, careful not to move. One wrong gesture and, well.
“Don’t try to play this off, Rick,” Evil Morty dragged out his name like a slur. In some cultures, it was. “Everybody knows how much you bend to the will of your family. Sure, you had a few replacements. A couple new Beths, a few new Summers. Probably ten different Jerrys,” Evil Morty shrugged. Up until now, he hadn’t said very much. Now though, the little fucker wouldn’t shut up. God, Rick hated a cocky Morty. They loved monologuing.
“But you always get replacements, and even accommodate them. Try to make them happy. Or, if you fuck up bad enough, you find a whole new reality. Mortys, though? Only one. Only him,” he said, shaking Morty. His grandson, arms still frozen in the air, was staring holes into his head, like he was putting together a puzzle for the first time.
Rick did his best to roll his eyes. Obviously, Morty knew about the replacements, about ditching dimensions when things got too fucked up to bother trying to reverse them. It’s why they left the Prime dimension, and why they’d left the next five or six, too. But Rick did his best to never draw attention to the fact that he always brought Morty with. Every single time, even if it meant killing a different dimension’s Morty (before his noticed, of course), he never left without him.
“What’s so special about him, I wonder? Is it because he’s a particularly valuable Morty? Except, he isn’t, really. It’s not like anybody knows who he really is. His real Rick is dead. I would know, since I handed him to you on a silver platter,” Evil Morty chuckled, rolling his eyes. Rick suppressed the urge to shoot him. Morty, for his part, stayed uncharacteristically silent, his big eyes watching the scene play out before him.
“Or is it because you know he’s a Prime?”
“Fuck you. I don’t give a damn who his real Rick is, even if it was Prime-“
“But there’s no reason to keep his Morty, anyway, even if he was alive, right?” Evil Morty interrupted. “He didn’t give a damn about his Morty, just like every other Rick.” The bitterness that usually filled Morty’s words when talking about things like this was now evident in his counterpart. He shook Morty again. Rick was getting really sick of this.
“And yet you keep him anyway. So I wonder, whats-“
”Fuck you, you jealous, evil, smartass piece of shit!” Morty screeched suddenly, punching Evil Morty square in the face. With them being so close, his stupid forcefield could do nothing to protect him. It was enough to knock himself out of his grasp, but not enough to truly disorient his captor. Evil Morty yelled out, hastily aiming the gun in his hands and shooting.
“Morty, dodge-!,” Rick lurched forward, but it was too late. The bullet, which was actually a fucking bullet for some fucking reason instead of a laser, hit Morty a few inches from where his heart would be. He let out a strangled scream, blood already dripping from his mouth, and collapsed. The mesh suit went off, but Evil Morty was still far too close for it to have done much good. Punctured, the suit deactivated, leaving Morty vulnerable.
“FUCK! MORTY!” Rick screamed scrambling to reach his grandson. He’d landed on his back, and blood pooled around him, staining the bright yellow fabric of his shirt. Rick desperately checked his pulse, and breathed a small sigh of relief. Weak, but there. His breathing was shallow and bubbly. Most likely a punctured lung, if Rick had to guess, and he did because he was about to be very busy. Quickly, he ripped off the arm of his lab coat and tied it around Morty’s chest, trying to slow the bleeding. He shot up, whipping around to face the unlucky son of a bitch who’d just shot his grandson.
They stared at each other. He had about a minute, maybe less, before Morty’s condition got critical. He had to be quick. Evil Morty, seemingly realizing he had genuinely fucked up, was backing away. His face held no fear, no remorse, only genuine shock.
“You really do care about him,” Evil Morty mumbled, something close to astonishment in his voice. Rick didn’t care. He could barely breathe. He wasn’t even really moving on his own, only barely registering the mechanical augments springing from his back. Every bone, every inch of titanium in his body was screaming at him to kill the one who’d hurt his family. Kill the one who hurt his Morty. He screamed, wordless, painful, and made his move.
Evil Morty never stood a chance. Rick rushed forward, pointing every gun he had straight at the asshole’s heart, forcing him backwards several feet as his forcefield began to malfunction. Distracted, the boy lifted his hand to shoot. Rick took his chance, using his bottom arms to activate and swing the net. There was an explosion, and by the time the boy made it out, his forcefield was destroyed. He came out annoyed and coughing, and raised his arm to shoot. He missed, doing nothing but taking out the remains of his ship and thankfully making it nowhere near Morty. 20 seconds now, both before the cooldown was over and until Morty began to run out of time.
“I-I thought maybe it was all another one of your games. I thought maybe it really was that you liked the idea of owning Prime’s grandson, or even th-that- that maybe you were weaker than your enemies claimed. And that was something I could use. But I was wrong,” Evil Morty forced out, falling to the ground with how close Rick had gotten. “It’s just- it’s just him. Why him? H-how is- he’s not even your Morty!”
“Stop fucking saying that,” Rick spit, venom in his tone. With that, he shot the little bastard straight in the heart. Shoot to kill. There was a gasp, a bubble of blood, and a small thud as Evil Morty’s arms collapsed. Rick took a few seconds to stare at this version of his grandson. He’d killed a thousand Mortys, both directly and indirectly. He’d never once cared about or regretted a single one of them. And despite what both of the Mortys bleeding out at the moment seemed to have thought, that was still true.
With that, the panic set back in, and he ran back towards Morty.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Morty. Don’t bleed out on me. Not like this, not here, please, fuck,” Rick babbled out, unsure if Morty could even hear him or not. He hoped not. He kept whispering anything soothing he could think of as he gathered up the boy in his arms, pressing his face into his chest. Despite Rick’s attempts, he’d lost a lot of blood, and was visibly pale. Thank fuck he actually brought the house with him instead of just taking Morty. Unfortunately, the house was on lockdown, and the only way in was the front door in case Evil Morty was stupid enough to go inside. He kicked the door in, and immediately had to dodge a frying pan.
”Shit, get him! Wait- Dad? Oh my god, what happened to Morty?” Beth screamed, and Rick could tell she was already crying. He didn’t stop. He’s only slightly ashamed to admit that he didn’t even care. All that mattered was the boy in his arms. He shoved past the panicked shouting and confusion, not saying a word. He finally, finally made it to his garage, swiping everything off of his workbench to make room for Morty.
“Rick, what the fuck happened? Is Morty okay?” Summer.
”Does he fucking look okay to you? Get out,” Rick snapped. He didn’t have time to deal with their bullshit as he untied the piece of lab coat that was now stained completely red.
“But-“
“I said GET OUT, I’m trying to save his fucking life,” Rick yelled, whipping around to face the three morons crowding at the door. He walked towards them and shoved Summer backwards, forcing both of her parents to move back to accommodate her.
”Garage, family therapy mode. Get me my surgical tools and the Morty blood bags,” Rick muttered, focusing on making sure he was clean enough for what he was about to do. He was a scientist, not a goddamn doctor, but he was also the smartest man in the fucking universe and had removed bullets thousands of times by now. He could do it one more time. His hands shook anyway. Thank fuck the kid was already out cold.
He had to remove the bullet first and foremost. He grabbed his surgical tweezers, trying his best to steady his hand. Fuck, fuck. He needed to calm down. This was taking too long, and he normally never got like this, even when it was Morty he was patching up. Hell, this wasn’t even the first gun wound he’d repaired.
It’s because Evil Morty could’ve actually killed him.
Shut the fuck up.
He sticks the tweezers in. The bullet definitely reached his lungs, as deep as it went. Unfortunately, the suit probably only made the process worse, as it slowed the shot down enough not to pierce all the way through the boy’s body. It took Rick a minute or two, but he finally removed the small piece of metal. Yellow, because of course it fucking was.
Finally, he was able to stitch the poor boy back up and get blood pumping back into his veins. The gun wound was, thankfully, the only major wound Morty acquired, and the bruises were easy to take care of using some alien soothing balm he picked up from fuck-knows where.
All that was left to do now was wait.
“Fuck- ow. Fuck. Rick?”
Rick jumped up from where he’d been sitting across the room, waiting for Morty. Sheer relief flooded his system. Morty seemed aware enough to at least call for Rick. It had been about four hours now, and he still hadn’t let any of the others into the room, despite their best efforts to break in.
“Oh, thank fuck. H-Hey, hey there, little buddy. How are you uh- how you doing?” Morty groaned, sitting up. He wobbled, and Rick’s arms automatically shot out to steady him. Morty’s eyes flicked to his grandfather’s hovering hands, and stared blankly for a second.
“Damn, you’re already being too nice. W-what happened? Oh shit, Evil Morty! Is he-“ Morty scrambled to get up, only to hiss in pain. Rick shot forward again to hold him steady.
”Whoa now, easy. Everything is fine. It’s over. He- uh. He shot you and I… killed him,” Rick forced out, almost sheepishly. Morty’s head shot up to look at him, but Rick refused to make eye contact. If he made eye contact, Morty would know. He’d know exactly how much this whole ordeal had fucked Rick up, would know exactly how weak his grandfather really was. Exactly how much-
”You killed him? Are you- like, sure? Holy shit. I mean, good riddance but…” Morty trailed off. Rick steeled himself and finally grew the balls to look at him again.
”Does anything hurt? And don’t bullshit me, you know what I mean. Does anything hurt more than it should,” Rick said, getting ahead of the snark Morty was surely already forming in his head. Morty smirked.
”…No. W-well, obviously I’m a little sore, but I don’t think I’m- like, dying anymore,” Morty said, holding up his arms and kicking his legs. Rick raised a brow.
”Who the hell told you you were dying?” He asked. Fuck, for the thousandth fucking time today.
“You’re being too nice to me. Y-you were waiting for me to wake up, and- and the the garage is in family therapy mode, and…” Morty trailed off again, thinking. His expression got serious.
”You… picked me up. I was barely conscious, and for a second I thought I was hallucinating. B-but I wasn’t, was I? You begged me not to bleed out. Not to die. Y-you said please,” Morty said quietly, looking down at his lap. Subtlety, his shoulders began to shake. God damn it. It was silent for a moment as Rick tried to think of what to say. Morty beat him to it.
”I-i-it must’ve been real, because you said please. I would never- my subconscious isn’t that hopeful. But if- if what Evil Morty s-said was true- then- ” Morty hiccuped, wiping desperately at his face. “If w-what he said was true then- then you only care that I’m from the Prime dimension.” Rick could hear the wetness in his voice. He let out a heavy sigh, and tried not to be devastated when Morty flinched.
“Morty…” Rick said, sitting down heavily on his workbench chair. He rubbed his face, trying his best to hold it together.
”Are- are you going to g-get tired of me now that Prime- n-now that- now that he’s dead?” Morty stumbled, unable to find words for emotions and concepts larger than himself. Rick sighed again.
”Morty, do you remember when I told you that the Rickest Rick needed to have the Mortiest Morty?”
A nod.
”I lied. Which, you sh-should have- probably figured out by now, Morty. Because I was never the Rickest Rick. Well, not then, anyway. But I wasn’t lying about you, Morty. You- you’re the real fucking deal. The central finite curve revolves around your original dimension, it revolves around you. Think about it, Morty. Of all the infinite universes, of the unfathomable amount of Ricks and Mortys, you are the most yourself.” Rick paused, letting Morty process before he kept going. The dumbass would probably jump to conclusions.
”B-but-“ There we go. “But- that doesn’t really have anything to do with now. If- if the only reason you chose me is because of him, t-then why stick around? Now you’re making it sound like it’s because I’m- like… authentic, or something. I d-don’t understand,” Morty mumbled, trying his best to curl in on himself without aggravating his wound.
”No, Morty. My point is… that none of it ever mattered. As far as Ricks go, a Morty is property, which makes you mine, and they all know better than to touch my shit. Except… my Beth died as a child. I never- you aren’t-“ but he is. He always was. Rick struggled to find the right words. “Morty C-137 never existed,” he finally settled on. He couldn’t bear to look at the boy now openly staring at him.
“I didn’t have a Morty, until you. I started in your dimension looking for Prime. That much is true. He’s the only reason I ended up there in the first place. But after I realized he wasn’t coming… I could never bring myself to leave. It wasn’t because of Beth, and it wasn’t because of what I’d done to my own dimension, despite what I told myself back then.”
“Rick… I- I didn’t realize…” Morty tried, hopelessly, to wrap his head around what his grandfather was implying. Because there’s just no way. Never, in all of the years Morty has known the man, has he ever soberly admitted that he cared in any capacity. And even when he was drunk, there was always random shit he said that made his intentions unclear. There was a pause, as Rick steeled himself to finally spit out what had always, always been true.
“It was because of you, Morty. Everything, all of this fucking mess with the Citadel, with Evil Morty, with what happened in Prime, it never would’ve happened if I’d never- gotten attached to you. But I did, Morty. I did. I care about your mom, and your sister. And I try to keep these versions of them safe and alive. But you, Morty?”
”I don’t think I’d survive if something ever happened to you, Junebug.”
And there it was. That nickname. Junebug. Rick called Morty a lot of names. Most of them derogatory. But Morty could count on one hand the amount of times the real, actual Rick called him Junebug. (That one time RickBot said it didn’t count.) One occasion was Morty’s earliest memory, though he doubts Rick knows he remembers that. Regardless, no matter how drunk, how high, or how many lies Rick has told Morty through his teeth, the man was always being genuine when he used that name.
And it was this that made Morty cry again.
“Shit- Is there something wrong with your wound? Don’t tell me you split it open already,” Rick sighed, standing up to check over the stitches. Morty batted him away.
“N-no I- I just… I love you, Grandpa Rick,” Morty laughed through his tears, looking up at his grandfather. Rick paused and stared at him for a second. The silence almost made Morty doubt himself.
”…I love you too, Morty. 100 years.”
“…Rick?”
”What?”
”Are you going to let them in? They’ve been banging on the door this whole time.”
”…Fuck.”