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"You're gonna be just like me. It's a genetic disease."
That's what Rick said as he chugged flask after flask of alcohol.
But Morty's mind immediately interpreted that statement in an entirely different way. If he was going to turn out just like Rick, if it was genetic, that meant he was going to be just like.....
.....Rick Prime.
And that was an extremely terrifying thought.
It was no secret that Morty had repressed rage, that he had his own moments of cold and calculated decision-making, that he could easily fuck other people's lives up by making the smallest wrong choices. He'd proven multiple times that he had the potential to be a cold-blooded killer and, if alcoholism was genetic, did that mean Prime's bloodlust and psychopathy was also genetic?
Whose to say that it wouldn't get worse as he became older?
Rick seemed to notice the shift in his expression from disgust into horror because he froze as he pulled another flask out. "Geez, relax, Morty. I'm just fucking with you."
"Y-yeah, you're right. I... I j-j-just-" Morty let out a forced laugh, but it sounded painfully fake, even to his own ears. He couldn't think of anything to say and as he watched Rick's eyes narrow, he looked down at the cracked floor of the garage. "Yeah."
Rick had no idea what caused the sudden unexplainable moodiness in his grandson. He'd been fucking around, messing with Morty who was clearly uncomfortable watching him drink, but at some point he'd clearly crossed a line with Morty.
What that line was exactly? Rick had no fucking clue.
"The fuck is wrong with you?"
"Nothing." To say Morty was freaked out was an understatement and he didn't want Rick pushing any further. That was not a conversation Morty wanted to have with him. He turned around, planning to hide in his room for the rest of the night, but a hand grabbed his wrist before he could even take a single step.
"Come on, Morty. Stop being-"
Morty was quick to snatch his arm out of Rick's grasp and, without even thinking about it, shoved Rick away from him. "Just fuck off, Rick!"
"Woah, hey! The hell is your problem?" Rick's eyes widened at the furious expression and tone Morty had and it seemed his grandson hadn't meant for it to come out as rudely as it had because his expression immediately became ashamed and he began stuttering out quiet apologies. "Morty, buddy. What's going on with you?"
"Nothing."
Rick didn't buy that answer one bit. Morty's reply had been far too immediate and panicked to be true. Normally he'd just be an asshole about it until Morty finally broke and complained to him, but Rick had an uneasy feeling and something was telling him that he needed to tread carefully around whatever it was that was bothering his grandson. "Come on, little Junebug. Talk to me."
Morty's expression changed ever so slightly, shifting almost imperceptibly from anger towards anxiety, and Rick knew he'd been right about being gentle in his approach.
"It's.... it's nothing."
"Morty, if it's bothering you this much, it's clearly not nothing. If I did or said something that upset you, you can tell me."
Morty really didn't want to have this conversation. He knew Rick didn't like being reminded that Morty was related to his ex-nemesis, but he rarely got to hear his grandpa sound so concerned and Morty was always weak to that gentle affection. "I know.... I know you said I'm gonna be "just like you". B-b-but..... but what if I'm not? What if.... what if I end up just like him?"
Rick's blood ran cold as he realized who exactly Morty was talking about.
Rick Prime.
Rick now regretted what he'd said. He'd just meant to tease his grandson, but Morty had clearly been seriously considering the kind of person he might grow up to be. Which was actually a very Morty thing for him to do and something Rick should have fucking realized before he opened his big mouth. "Don't be stupid, Morty. You aren't going to turn out like Rick Prime."
"How can you even know that? He and I are already similar enough." There were no guarantees how Morty would turn out, especially if, God forbid, Rick died or eventually decided he wanted to leave. What if the chip in Morty's neck failed? He could easily become a serial killing psychopath, just like his original grandfather.
"No, you aren't."
"Good, then look me in the eyes and say it. Say I won't end up like Rick Prime." Morty stared directly at Rick, waiting for him to do it, but Rick was now looking everywhere but him. "Ha, you can't fucking do it, can you? Because you don't know for sure."
As triumphant as Morty sounded, he was feeling the exact opposite. If Rick couldn't admit it, then what hope did Morty truly have? That was damn near confirmation that he was going to end up like his original grandfather. "Oh, g-god."
"Morty, don't blow this out of proportion. It didn't mean anything."
"If it didn't mean anything, then why can't you say it?!" Morty hated how desperate he sounded and he turned away to hide the tears of frustration that were welling up in his eyes.
As much as Rick didn't want to admit it, there was always a very miniscule chance that Morty could potentially end up like his biological grandfather. He was Beth's child, after all, and his daughter definitely had psychopathic tendencies. They'd certainly lessened as the years went on, but they were still there and he'd seen those same tendencies in Morty more than once.
He knew he couldn't admit that out loud though. If he thought Morty was upset now, his grandson would go fucking ballistic if Rick said anything. He'd been backed into a metaphorical corner and he decided he was just going to have to lie his way out of it, for the sake of Morty's sanity. He stared right into Morty's tear filled eyes and kept his face as expressionless as he could. "You are not going to end up like Rick Prime, Junebug."
Morty studied his expression, trying to find any signs of deceit, but Rick did seem to actually believe what he was saying and Morty couldn't deny that it instantly made him feel better. Maybe Rick was right and he was just blowing this out of proportion. "You promise you won't let me?"
There was no guarantee he'd be able to keep that promise. He'd obviously do his best, doing things to prevent those psychopathic tendencies like the chip he'd put in Morty's neck, but he could only do so much. Rick probably shouldn't have promised, but he loved Morty and didn't want his grandson worrying about this anymore than he already was. "I promise."
"Okay." Morty wasn't entirely sure if he believed Rick, but the panic that'd been threatening to overwhelm him had receded, so he simply took a deep breath and nodded.
"Are you.... good?" He could never be certain if and when Morty had actually stopped obsessing over something. It was something his grandson was extremely good at lying about.
Morty was definitely still worried, but his panic was nowhere near as bad at it had been. "Yeah. Sorry for.... f-for freaking out on you."
~
Morty was standing in a pitch black void and, when he turned in a full circle, darkness was the only thing that greeted him.
"You're gonna be just like me, Morty."
He tilted his head back to see Rick standing behind him and he jerked away with a startled yelp. He was suddenly aware of a heavy weight in his left hand and he raised it to find a bottle of vodka in it. He dropped the bottle, flinching at the sound of it shattering at his feet, and quickly backed away from it.
"No, I don't want this!" His head snapped back up to look at Rick, but his grandpa had disappeared and Morty was all alone in the dark void once more. "Rick? Rick, where are you?!"
"You're gonna be just like me, Morty."
Rick's voice repeated that same phrase once more, coming from behind Morty, but something about it sounded off. Without even having to look, Morty knew why it sounded different, knew who he'd find when he turned around.
Despite every fiber in his body screaming at him to not turn around, he couldn't stop himself and horror filled him as he found himself face to face with Rick Prime. He rapidly backpedaled away, knowing exactly how dangerous Prime was and the damage he was capable of inflicting.
"No, I won't. I will never be like you."
Prime chuckled darkly at that. "You already are, Morty."
There was a dripping sound filling the void of the silence and Morty looked down to find himself standing in a massive pool of crimson liquid. It also coated his hands and stained his previously clean clothes.
Blood.
Blood that was coming from his family members.
Summer, Jerry, Beth, Space Beth.
They all lay dead around him, blooding seeping from various injuries, and when Morty looked at his hands again, he was now holding a plasma gun in one of them. "No! Nononono! I.... I w-w-would never....."
"Oh, but you did, Morty." Prime smiled down at him, a genuine proud smile, and it was much more frightening then his usual smug smirk. "Look at you, Grandpa's little psychopath. I'm so proud of you."
"Morty?"
He knew that voice and he turned to see Rick standing at the edge of the blood puddle. The expression on his face was a mix of horror, heartbreak, and betrayal. "Morty, what have you done? How could you do this?!"
"I-I.... I didn't. It wasn't me! IT WASN'T ME!"
"Finish it, Morty." Rick Prime stepped up behind him and tightly gripped Morty's shoulders. "Kill him."
"NO! I..... I c-c-can't." Morty couldn't stop the tears from spilling over as he stared across the carnage at Rick. Despite his protest, his body seemed to move on its own, against his will, and he watched in horror as he pointed the plasma gun at Rick. Why wasn't Rick stopping him? Why wasn't he running? Why was he just standing there?
"I was right. You are going to be just like him. It's a genetic disease."
Morty pulled the trigger and the defeaning bang of the gun firing is what finally ripped him out of the nightmare. Morty woke up screaming and he frantically wiped his hands off on his shirt, trying to get rid of the blood of his family. When he looked down, he couldn't see any blood on his hands or his clothes, but he swore he could still smell it.
His door was suddenly thrown open and Rick rushed in, flipping the light switch and filling the room with an unexpected brightness. His eyes immediately landed on Morty, curled up in his bed and gasping for air. Rick kept his voice soft and he moved slowly as he reached out for Morty, but his grandson immediately jerked away. "Morty. Junebug?"
"Don't..... d-d-don't.... don't touch me." Morty could easily imagine that genuine smile Rick Prime gave him, his voice proudly Morty calling him that dreaded nickname. He tried to reason with himself that it was Rick standing in front of him.
He knew Rick.
Trusted Rick.
But his nightmare was still fresh in his mind and he couldn't stop picturing the proud smile Rick Prime had given him.
"So proud of you. Grandpa's little psychopath."
Morty's breath was coming too fast and he couldn't get it under control. He clutched at his chest, feeling his shirt scrunch beneath his fingers, but the motion didn't ease the panic that was threatening to suffocate him.
"Morty, buddy. You need to breathe."
"I.... I d-didn't mean.... mean to. I would.... would n-n-never kill them!"
Rick had no idea what Morty was babbling about and he slowly reached out for Morty again. However, his fingers brushing against Morty's arm only seemed to set him off further and his grandson violently jerked away with a shriek.
"STOP!" Morty scrambled backwards, until his back hit the wall, and wrapped his arms around himself. He was hyperventilating now, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps and Morty was beginning to feel lightheaded.
He'd murdered his family.
He'd murdered Rick.
He was just like Rick Prime.
Morty began screaming again.
Rick didn't waste anymore time. He lunged forward, grabbing Morty even as he tried to scramble away.
"PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE YOU! I DIDNT WANT TO KILL MY FAMILY!"
Rick froze at that as he realized what Morty's nightmare must have been about. He grabbed a syringe from one of his labcoat pockets and didn't hesitate to jab the needle into Morty's arm, immediately injecting an anesthetic into him.
The tension instantly bled out of Morty's body and he collapsed in Rick's arms, his unfocused eyes fluttering shut. He muttered out a few more weak protests, but the drug worked quickly and sent him into a peaceful sleep.
"Shhhh, it's alright, Junebug. Grandpa's here."
~
Rick didn't go back to sleep that night.
Instead, he took Morty down to sixth level of the sub-basement, where the clinic was, and set his grandson up in one of the beds. He retrieved a chair and sat at the side of the bed, content to simply watch the rise and fall of Morty's chest as his grandson peacefully slept. Morty was still laying motionless in the clinic bed, in the drug-aided sleep Rick had forced him in to.
It had been fucking terrifying watching Morty spiral into a panic attack. His anxiety had gotten bad enough for auditory and visual distortions to start because Morty had clearly thought he was Rick Prime. When the screaming started, he'd been quick to sedate Morty and his grandson had been out cold since then.
Without even realizing it, Rick had pulled his flask out of his labcoat and, as soon as he realized what he had done, he quickly hurled it across the room.
That is what had started this whole thing.
Rick felt horrible. He'd just been doing a bit, but Morty had taken it seriously and Rick had unintentionally planted seeds of doubt and insecurity in his grandson.
His head snapped up when he heard the sheets shifting and Rick patiently waited as Morty slowly began to wake up.
There was confusion in his expression as his eyes fluttered open and it was clear he had no idea where he was, but his panicked expression relaxed when his eyes met Rick's.
"Hey, buddy."
"Rick? Are we in the sub-basement? Did you bring me to the clinic?" Morty tried to remember how exactly he'd ended up there. He'd been asleep in his room, had a horrifying nightmare, and had a panic attack when he'd finally woken up. Rick had been in his room, trying to comfort him. Morty couldn't remember anything after that and he had to assume Rick was the reason behind that.
"You dreamt about him, didn't you?" Morty refused to look at him, knowing exactly who Rick was talking about even without saying his name, and that was all the confirmation Rick needed. "I'm sorry, Morty. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was just messing around."
"I killed them."
Rick wasn't entirely sure who Morty was talking about, but he hadn't forgotten his grandson's terrified shout from earlier.
"I DIDNT WANT TO KILL MY FAMILY!"
He stayed silent, hoping Morty would elaborate, and thankfully he did.
"I killed the whole family. Rick Prime..... he was there and he looked so fucking proud. And then you showed up." Morty let out a choked sob as he remembered the look of heartbreak and betrayal on Rick's face as he realized what Morty had done. "I killed you too."
"You wouldn't actually do that, Morty." That statement didn't seem to comfort him at all and he looked both terrified and angry as he finally met Rick's gaze.
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do." His words were firm, but he kept his voice gentle. "I know you, Junebug. You'd do anything to protect your family, even at the cost of your own life. Whatever you dreamt about, you would never, in a million fucking years, actually do it. That's not the kind of person you are. You are the most kind hearted and caring person I've ever known, Morty. That is who you are."
Morty hadn't even realized he'd been crying until a thumb gently wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks.
"You could never turn into him. You are a better person than he ever was."
That filled Morty with hope and he hesitantly met Rick's gaze. There was no anger or disappointment, like he'd been expecting, only pride and love. "Do you really mean that, Rick?"
"Yes, I do. And I will say it as many times as you need me to, Junebug."